Marcus was a history buff, he loved history especially his own history. Grandfather had been an Englishman who moved to Poland for a culture changed and married a beautiful Polish woman, his Grandmother. During the Second World War his family disapproved of the removal of Jews, his Grandmother being a Jew by heritage but a Christian by faith she was still destined to be captured and killed, as the German Army began to push into Poland they fled to Ukraine. It was short-lived as Ukraine began to collaborate with the Axis, his Grandparents caught wind of this and fled across the Sea of Azov and through other countries to reach the small, unknown country of Chernarus under the protection of the USSR. It was their that his Father would be born and once the war was over they moved once more to Australia, as his Grandfather was an Englishman is as fairly easy to obtain a visa for his family. 40 years later and Marcus Aleksy Davidson was born.
Marcus grew up on tales of the war, Poland and Chernarus by his Grandfather, he told him of the beautiful rolling green hills and vast forests of Chernarus. When his Grandfather passed he vowed that he would take his Grandfather back to Chernarus to scatter his ashes. After two months of waiting to receive a passport he booked his flight and left for Chernarus. He was blown away by the old architecture and just as his Grandfather had told him, the green rolling hills and beautiful forests of deep greens, crimsons and orange. Marcus stayed in the International Hotel in Chernogorsk, he travelled up to the town of Kamensk and climbed the tallest mountain to the peak. After admiring the view he scattered the ashes.
The next day the town of Kamensk was on shut down, heightened security and all. News broadcasts and theorist alike wondering what was happening there, Marcus had a funny little feeling about the facility. The days the continued reports worsened, a strain of some virus was putting many in hospital. Some people were saying the soldiers and civilians were seen being very aggressive with some biting other people. People began fleeing to the main towns, the International Hotel was completely full. South Zagoria was almost completely destroyed, people leaving in mass on small boats and cargo vessels, some legally, others illegally. Marcus was fearing the worse, now keeping his Grandfather's old hunting backpack with him at all times, thinking at any moment he would be next to leave and go back home. The night of the 20th Marcus was haggling for food at the local shopping centre when an almighty boom echoed and the sky began to light up red. He rushed outside to see the International Hotel crumbling as a plane exploded. Marcus now knew he wasn't going to make it home. Screams erupted as infected began to pour out the hospital and from the roads. Marcus dashed into the shopping centre filling his pack with food and water before running out the door, he ran down the streets, an officer was being mauled to death, Marcus grabbed a brick and beat the infected to death and took the pistol off the dying officer and continued to run. He made his way into the treeline, not following the directions of the military or the rest of the people in an attempt to escape the horde. Marcus scanned through his pack. He had a travel map, enough food for a week, water for about 2-3 days, flashlight, an officers pistol and the clothes on his back. Marcus analysed his travel map, the North-East Airfield was his best bet of survival, hopefully people were still alive there.