Lance Corporal Jacob Antone was detached to a Marine company that had a base in Chernarus, detahced with the "Fighting" 4th Division. It was an American base, Just like so many other countries have one. No fighting, no firefights, just sent to be stationed there, constant drills and patrols with not much else to do. As the outbreak started to grow and grow on the ever dwindling base, Jacob decided that he wasn't going to die alone in some barracks or guard tower, he was going to live his life as he sees fit. If it simply means stopping at a campfire to swap stories or trade goods, to armed escorts for groups who wish not to fight, Jacob plans to make Chernarus as best as it can be. While not well equipped or had the more advanced training as his peers did, he knows his way around weaponry and well versed in recon and patrols. Jacob will bring the fight to the outbreak and those who threaten what little time he may have left, until the outbreak is too much to handle. He hopes to find a group who is beneficial to the safety of this country, and make a home there. The "Lone Wolf" mindset is now starting to take its toll. The last thing Jacob wants is trouble, but if trouble finds him, he'll make sure to keep himself, and any companions hes befriended along the way, safe as possible. Even if it means having to take the life of one to save the lives of many.
10-31-19, Concussion and bullet graze on left arm
Oct 2019: Taking The Gloves Off.
My travels and the people I met seemed pretty sincere. They were all very generous and kindhearted folk. From the two women in Staroye to the brothers in Stary Sobor, I enjoyed my travels. But my eyes weren't open to this. Not until I stepped foot into Vybor. It was at that time I came across a shop, ran by a gentleman named Martinez Lopez. His friends were just as kind. Jackson, Yuri, and Colton.
These guys weren't just surviving and living. They were LIVING. They were doing what they had to do. Sadly, we were attacked. Anarchy, some rebel group, I don't know. Fuck all this "living from house to house" bullshit. They taught me their true ways of life. Was I hesitant? Absolutely. Did I have to get my hands dirty? Fuckin A. It all started with that doctor and his fuckin' attitude. Doc by the name of McKenzie Miller. By the time we were done with him, he had each arm carved in with initials by a tac knife, a "Chelsea Grin" carved into his mouth, and a cigarette burn in the middle of his forehead. Now he belongs to us.
This is the day my Black Rose blossomed.
Chapter 2, November 2019: From Hell And Back Again.
Figure i'd keep writing in my journal. Only way to keep me sane. All the Black Roses are dead, except for myself and Noah Russo, who i was fortunate enough to see a few times. Jackson and Yuri committed suicide over the radio, they made sure all of fucking Chernarus heard it. That crack of the bullet piercing his skull...I can't get it out of my fucking head. Shit haunts me. At least I was able to figure out which bunker they did it in. Was able to bury them both under a tree on top of a hill overlooking Zelenogersk. I've been with the Grizzlies ever since the Vybor attacks. Recently as of late, I've become Acting Boss of the group, recruiting and helping any of our friends and allies in need. If it wasn't for Thomas Everett and Ray Knox, my right hand men, being in this position would've made me lose my mind. We have a lovely place we're living at, too. Much better than Olsha. I was also finally able to meet Georgia Banks, and told her what had happened after Jackson's last radio transmission. We buried the helmet he gave me when I got initiated into the Roses right next to where she lives. That way, if Zelenogersk is too dangerous to travel to their grave markers, at least she can step right outside where the helmet is, if she ever wants to talk to him.
Winters coming, and my men are prepping for it. I guess I should get off my ass and help with the rest of the walls.