Marvin was a nice boy growing up, always was nice to everyone but was always awkward meeting new people. Once you got past the awkwardness, he would be your best friend. Always caring for his friends, family, nothing more was important to him. Betraying his trust in a friendship was one of the worst things you could ever do to offend Marvin. Marvin did not care if kids called him names, pushed him around, it was when you stabbed him in the back, that's what cut him deep. All though Marvin loved his friends and family, he did love being alone too. He would create stories in his head to keep himself calm and collected, it's what kept him so true to himself.
Moving past his younger years, Marvin was 20 years old when the outbreak happened. All those friends he spent years with drinking, playing video games, or just casually going out for a drive.. gone. His family.. gone. Marvin was all alone left to defend himself. Not being able to stay where all these memories are, Marvin decided it was time to start moving, and move he did. Learning how to shoot a gun, learning how to hunt, build, connect with others, it was all something he knew he had to do. His same awkwardness is still there to this day, but not at all for the same reasons. People are not what they used to be Marvin learned. Marvin had to adapt. To blend in to what was around him. Staying with bandits to be able to eat, lying to others just so he could survive. He is not proud of what he has done, but it got him this far. Having to do the most disgusting things to get by... it made Marvin sick. But what could he do? He couldn't blow his cover and risk his own life and possibly the life of others to come. When Marvin sees the right time to strike and turn the tables, he does it flawlessly. In a way, it is very hypocritical of him, yet very poetic. He turns the things he hates done to him into weapons against others.
Marvin has killed other people to survive. Marvin had to do it, it was either them or him, and every time he will choose himself. From having to defend himself from bandits raiding his own camp, to crazy trigger happy cannibals, Marvin has done what needed to be done. Is he proud of it? In a way, yes. He watches himself do these things, almost like out of body. It's crazy to himself that he is doing what he is doing. "Killing an other human? Is that even like me to do that? Who have I become?" A survivor. Marvin has become a survivor.
A couple years have passed and Marvin has come to terms with needing to take off his mask. You cannot survive any longer by yourself in a world like this. You need to keep going, and you need to hope to find something. He's heard stories from smaller camps of big communities, where they clothe you, feed you, and defend you. Some called it myths, others said to have been there themselves. It was exactly what Marvin needed. Marvin thought his skills for surviving could be an asset to these so called communities. It was time to stop being a lone wolf. It was time to start feeling human again. Could these stories be true? Marvin HAD to believe it was. It was the last strand of hope he had.