The Marshal

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The Marshal last won the day on June 29 2016

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About The Marshal

  • Birthday 05/13/93

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  1. OOC I loved GMTC in its first location, it was the best thing I'd ever seen in years, IC I thought it was of ill thought to make us such a large target, and I told you exactly what would happen, Jimmy! I miss it. I got so many more firefights under my belt from that few weeks.
  2. But I don't see myself in any of these!
  3. Accurate. If memory serves correctly, I walked in whilst he was still being tortured extensively after ten minutes had passed and put two .45's in his head and walked away, stating 'It's done.' They then proceeded to desecrate the body and string it up by a tree. I think.
  4. *John came over the airwaves, sounding dark as he growled into the radio, his baritone causing the speakers to pop a bit.* "Your boy died to our worst fighter. Go home, there's nothing good for you in this." *He looked at the polaroid in his hand, of the mark on the back of their dead friend's hands.* "I honestly hope you have enough sense to run."
    • Hollows
    • The Marshal



    Goddamn it, you read me like a fucking book dude.

    1. The Marshal

      The Marshal

      I know you a little too well lol

  5. *He depresses his PTT as he looks over his rifle, drowning at the small bit of damage he'd just caused. His tone of voice was absentminded.* "Yeah... Alright. Let me know if you need me. By the way, Axel was looking for you earlier. Wanted to talk."
  6. *He depresses the PTT* "Just gonna say this straight before Hollows makes a long winded explanation that comes off on the bad side of the bed, Hollows, action figure soap man, isn't whatever Remnant thing you're talking about. He's a regulator, they run the prison."
  7. *John hits his PTT as he takes the steps down from the lodge's second story, glancing up at the two closed doors above. It was pretty apparent from his lack of equipment he'd just woken up, not wearing his armor or duty belt, his pistol tucked into the appendix of his waistband* "Hope. You're welcome. You need anything further, you let me know, and I wish you the best of luck with your daughter and her welfare." *He said, walking over to the counter, reaching over and around it with a grunt, snagging an MRE from underneath and whipping it out and over the bar, tossing it onto the table.* "Axel is just trying to look out for the best interests of the group. Don't take it personally. Not saying I agree with it, I'm not much into turning people out on their own myself. But it's probably best for you that you moved on. We wouldn't want you to be caught up in whatever this is with Moody and Louie." "Lima Charlie, Gremlin, We'll see you soon. Actual is already on location."
  8. *John composed himself while he stood on the castle watch, staring absentmindedly at the waters and the land beyond. He went to depress the PTT on his radio after some debate, but it made a noise and he heard Simon talking instead. Seconds after Simon spoke, he hit the PTT without much though, changing what he had intended on saying completely.* "Yeah, you got it. Listening to this is making my head hurt anyway. They want to talk, it'll be on equal terms, not whatever this is."
  9. *John looked over at Diane at the table across from him, hearing the chatter on her radio, hearing talk about islands being mentioned. He motioned with his hand while he swallowed his mouthful of stew, setting his bowl aside with his other hand.* "Mmm, Hey," He said, clearing his throat. "What frequency is that?" He asked, and she showed him her LED readout. He took out his own radio, punching the digits into the radio, then depressing the PTT. "So this is the people that were behind... what was it?" He pulls the paper map from his jacket, reading the childlike handwriting. "Operation: Cut Tigers Balls... with 'Z's instead of 'S's? How very creative... Where did that come from? And what was this one, for the prison island? Operation: Lobotomize Giraffe?"
  10. The island was quiet as he stood on the watch platform in the castle ruins, glancing down at the water every now and then to see any black specks moving about in the ocean. There were none. He frowned, tilting his hat back as he rubbed his temples. The events of the last few days had not fared well for his mind, frustrated beyond explanation at the ignorance and arrogance of some people willing to spill blood and cost lives because someone hurt their feelings with words. It was because of their very willingness to do such things that John thought so little of them. He respected the Irishman a lot more when he'd come to camp to speak peacefully months before, but at the end of GMTC he'd lost most of that as the man showed his true colors of being a coward that tries to flex his muscles on people who don't have a fighting bone in their body. Men like them didn’t understand any other way. So they had two choices, make them understand and compromise, or go at it until only one stood. And despite John’s track record… He didn’t feel much like fighting. That need for bloodshed had drained itself from him as of late. He’d looked inwardly on himself a bit more these last few months, decided he’d not liked what he saw… What others saw. He decided not to dwell on it any more for now, as the sheer thought of such made him feel like he was losing brain cells. He moved off the platform, stepping down the rickety stairs. He'd have to look into fixing them a bit. It had been some years since he'd attempted any sort of carpentry work, but the skill never really left and stairs were something he'd done before, when the basement steps in his sister's house had rotted through from water damage and her piece of shit excuse of a husband was too lazy to do anything about it. That was around the time they divorced, and he was glad for it. As he stepped down the road, he glanced down the hill to see Diane walking along the beach line talking to Derek. He noticed she’d been talking to him a lot recently, and when he passed it was always something about clothes. He smiled a bit, amused at how some things never changed. But the amusement faded as he thought about exactly how much had changed. Her brand he’d helped to burn from her body, that thing that had marked her as property… It reminded him that this entire time he’d been here… She’d been a slave. He thought back. Their paths had been so different over the years after the separation. When she’d been captured and made to submit to such a horrible fate… he’d been at the settlement. The camp out West of here that he’d recovered at in the beginning… He’d not thought about it much lately. He tilted his head as he recalled the place, a far cry from what was possible here… “Hey, let’s get those ammo cans unloaded and catalogued!” John yelled across the courtyard at the men dressed out in MARPAT gaggled around a Humvee with it’s hood compartment open. One of the men, sitting in the back driver side seat with his legs hanging out the open door, hopped out, waving at John. He had Lieutenant bars on his uniform. “Waters! Jennings said we don’t have any more space in the armory.” Cody Johnson said, trotting up. “He said the shelves can’t take that much weight.” He finished as he came shoulder to shoulder with John. “Well, if there was ever anybody to know about too much weight…” John said absentmindedly as he scribbled down something on his clipboard, earning a chuckle from Cody is response to the joke of Quartermaster Corporal Carl Jennings’ above average size. “Alright, well, count out how much there is, stack it on a pallet, and have your guys shrink wrap it in plastic, we’ll find a place for it somewhere.” “Yeah, yeah, you got it.” Johnson said, almost dismissively. “Hey, you seen the new addition that Andrea got on the construction crew?” John glanced at Cody for a second, a knowing look on his face. “Let me guess, you’re eyeing the female engineer that got pulled from Miroslavl?” He asked, earning an enthusiastic nod from the LT. “C’mon, Cody, already? You’re still in hot water with Darja for that one night stand you promised wouldn’t be a one night stand.” “Hey, man, she’s crazy! Besides, this girl’s got the rack to match the back!” He said, making his hands into a frame motion, bending his knees like he was being blown away by strong winds or something, then leaning forward and grabbing John by the shoulders, shaking him vigorously. “Come on, Waters! She’s got a frieeeeend!” He said, dragging the last word out in an almost sing song voice. John hit him with the clipboard in the shoulder, drawing a yelp of surprise as Cody pulled away. “And she’s undoubtedly fifteen years my junior, no thanks.” “John! What do they say? Age is just a social construct? I mean…” He paused, looking John over. “Shit, man, you’re still old as dirt-” “Fuck you!” John whipped out with a laugh. “But hey, you’re still a pretty good looking guy! If I went the other way, I’d hit that.” He said, making humping motions in the air. “Son, you’d be taking it, not giving shit. But whatever you gotta tell yourself to feel like the Alpha here, sure.” John said with a chuckle, deciding to play along with the Marine. “Oh, shit, he’s a giver!” Johnson yelled loudly, earning another hit with the clipboard, and a fake ‘ow’ from the LT. “But for real, come on, be my wing man!” “I’ll pass, Cody, thanks.” John said. “Man, you just don’t want to bang some chick that’s got more energy than you do!” Johnson said, treading back to the Humvee with his guys. “No, trust me, I have the energy!” He yelled back. “I’m just not getting labeled as a cradle robber!” Johnson made a arms spread wide gesture at his fellow Marines around the Humvee, of whom were all listening now to the exchange. “Hey Waters, don’t take your jacket off anytime soon!” He yelled, earning a confused look from John. Cody then waved his hand in a winding motion. “You know, it’s gotta be pretty fucking drafty up there on that high horse of yours!” He yelled, earning hoots and screams from the other Marines, roaring in laughter. John flipped them all the bird as he moved from the vehicle courtyard into the main part of the settlement area, filing into the crowd of people that had gathered around in the market area… John looked back to the tents where everyone else was gathered around a fire. He smelled the scent of cooking fish, likely some people were cooking up Buddy’s fresh haul from the day. Not many things impressed him these days, but that kids dedication and skill to his trade was something that never ceased to amaze him. As he walked up, he noticed Diane and Derek Graceland had moved up to the firelight while he’d been zoned out in his own mind. He touched the back of Diane’s elbow as he slid past her on the way to one of the tents, earning a slightly startled look that turned to a smile and a greeting. He nodded at her, leaving her to finish her clothing conversation with Graceland...
  11. "Whatever you have to say to feel like the big man. I'm not here to fight. Take that as you will. Lives would be lost on both ends, so lets not and say we did."
  12. "Oh no, somebody said mean things, time to go get endless people killed! Stay home." He snorted.
  13. *John leans back under cover from the rain against the wooden paneling of the house, a small dribbling of water dripping on top of the brim of his hat as he listens to the conversation unfold.* "John Moody... You're barking threats to the wrong people here. Our business isn't yours, and you don't want it to be. I like to think of the last times we spoke it was a decent dialog. I don't care what you're doing these days, or what you're trying to achieve. Others with more influence have tried the same thing, we just want to be left alone. So leave it alone. You want to fight the... redcoats, I guess you are calling them? Then you go do that. Away from us. You have over Two-Hundred-and-Fifty Square Kilometers of land to go and 'conquer', leave the six over the water alone." *He pauses, getting up with a grunt as he moves to take cover in one of the tents, the sound of a fistfight may be heard in the background along with some laughter.* "I'm not going to deliver any threats or promises, Moody. You already know how that goes. " *He grunts.* "Oh, yeah, and Solace? That wasn't Moody, that was that retarded Irish guy."
  14. *John listened to the airwaves for a few minutes while he re-wrapped the bandages on his hand, taking a moment to inspect the deep canine bite before covering it up with the clean wrappings. He frowned at all the threats and dick-waving he was hearing, shaking his head. He'd never understand why people spewed so much hatred against someone with promises to kill them for instances of mere inconvenience. He stood from his spot in his room, moving down the corridor, looking into the other room to see Diane curled up with a blanket on the floor where she'd gone to sleep the night prior. He usually did rise before her, so this was no surprise. He raised the radio up as he descended the steps.* "Doctor Pisces... it's good to hear your voice again, some people were asking about you a week back... Not sure if you recall who this is, our last meeting was not a long one. If you need a place to sit out the assholes for awhile, though, say the word."