Resident Badass of Fox Co.
Reputation: “That guy’s a badass”
Current Rank: Corporal
Starting Rank: Trooper
Fighting Ability (FA): 9
Non-Fighting Ability (NFA): 5
ARMOR? Y (Mauler)
|Hand-to-Hand (Power Glove)||1d10||N/A||N/A|
- Humans are humans
KIT, MEDALS and NOTES
Trooper Harrison Jones
You’re a rough and tumble kind of guy, and it’s no wonder you ended up enlisting. No matter how much the recruiting Sergeant tried to scare the pants off of you, you couldn’t help thinking how much more badass you’d actually be with a sweet war wound. Take one a few campaigns in and you could have war stories enough for the rest of your life, plus your right to vote. More than anything else it was them telling you that you weren’t good enough to make the cut that spurned you to try for it.
By the time you got to training, you’d been placed with MI, meaning you had no other major knowledge or skills which you could contribute to the military aside from pulling triggers. But that was fine with you.
The chat with the placement officer probably went well enough, him asking some complicated questions about science or your employment experience at first, with some questions about what kind of pets you used to own and quickly concluding that you were fairly useless as anything other than a grunt. He probably took his time after that, telling you about some of his own wartime experiences in the Navy before swiftly assigning you to the MI. “Don’t feel too bad,” they always say, “the Mobile Infantry is the Army, after all.”
You’d heard that training was tough but nothing, not even your huge collection of war holovids, prepared you for boot camp. You trained at Camp John J. Pershing, and it was without question a terrible, dehumanizing experience at first, where neither your instructors nor your fellow soldiers seemed to give a damn about you. You’re still not entirely sure how you managed to not flunk out, but sheer stubbornness kept you going. As time went on and you endured the rough physical training, deliberately cruel treatments, hard work details and so on, you found that there became a grudging respect for you from your fellow recruits and your trainers. Only later did you realize that you had a relatively short 10-week boot camp, you among several thousand others being activated as part of a wartime “rush batch” of soldiers. The final phase of training was being dropped alone for a week and a half in the Rocky Mountains, naked, without any simple tools. In the process you killed a pack of mountain wolves ready to dine on you with your bare goddamn hands. You’re not sure how you survived that either, but you must have learned something since you graduated and got your Trooper’s bar on your uniform.
That was about six months ago. You continued to wait several weeks at your training camp, Camp John J. Pershing until being shipped out to L5 Orbital Station and boarding your new and current home, the Federation troop carrier Dick Winters. You’re assigned to an outfit known as Penny’s Pathfinders; Company F, Second Regiment, Fourth Mobile Infantry Division. Yours is part of the Third Platoon, consisting mostly of new soldiers. The Dick Winters is Fox Company’s home, and your regiment (stretched across several other troop carriers) is known generally as the Deuce-Four. You are one of a number of replacements requested as Fox Company suffered nearly 30% casualties in counter-insurgency operations on Capella, part of an extended 6-year war of which you were only vaguely aware of while living on Terra being a high school punk. Now the danger of being hurt or killed seems somewhat more real to you. You kind of know one of your fellow platoon mates from training, but it’s up to you whether you formed any kind of serious friendship with them previously. That would be Lou Masterson; it is known that he was some kind of washed up former football star on Terra. Then there’s Corporal Cobalt Glawson, who’s kind of an ignorant xenophobe who’s always talking about how superior the human race supposedly is. And of course there’s the Sarge, who actually is fairly reserved and thus far has treated you like a human being – a far cry from the training Sergeants. You figure the Corporal and the Sergeant at least must have seen combat as they wouldn’t promote a Trooper who hadn’t.
The ship was abuzz with talk of a tough and dangerous mission that the Company was about to be sent on as the Dick Winters left the station. The details of that mission will be the contents of another message sent prior to your first mission.