Morgan was born and raised in Dallas, Texas to his parents Greg and Melissa Foster. His father was a police officer for the Dallas PD and his mother ran a non-profit that aided retired and disabled law enforcement personnel. Because of this constant law enforcement presence, Morgan dreamed of becoming a cop one day. He dressed up as some version of police officer every year for Halloween. Patrol officer, K-9 Unit, Swat, you name it he did it. His parents were very supportive and proud their son was passionate about something. His interest only grew stronger as he aged. He attended civilian training courses at the local department, and went on ride alongs with his father and other officers.
After graduating high school, Morgan wanted to go directly to training. However, his parents urged him to at least get a bachelor's degree. He gave in and decided to go to Texas Tech to pursue a criminal justice degree. He loved it. He couldn't wait to go to class, and he was in the top ten percent of his class the first semester. Christmas break rolled around like it always did, but this time was different. His father had not been called to work as much as usual. This gave them more time to spend together than they usually had. Which was great of course, but just odd and unusual. Second semester started and Morgan's work load was much larger. He focused in harder than ever, pushing himself to graduate as soon as possible to start his career.
In March of 2008, Morgan got a call he had been afraid of getting since he was a boy. His father had been shot and killed during a routine traffic stop. He left school and headed back to Dallas to be with his mother, and to bury his father. They were both devastated. The day of the funeral was the day Morgan changed forever. The second he got home, he pulled out the officer application he had been saving for after graduation and started to fill it out. His mother ran into the room, grabbed it from Morgan and ripped it to shreds. She just lost her husband, and couldn't lose her son too. Morgan was furious at first, then drifted into a deep depression. A few months passed and his mother suggested he should get a job to ease his mind. He agreed and found a mindless desk job making sales of "AS SEEN ON TV!" products. He did okay, it paid for food and a few outings with friends. However, Morgan felt stuck in this awful routine of waking up, selling garbage, going home, repeat.
A year went by, and Morgan had had enough. He decided to head back to Texas Tech, pursuing a degree in Accounting. He had to do basic bookkeeping and account balances at his old job, and liked it for some reason. It definitely wasn't easy, but three years later he graduated and earned his CPA certification shortly after. He got picked up by a decent sized firm and got to work right away. He was starting to feel whole again.
After about a year at this firm, Morgan came into work like any other day. Grabbed his coffee at the local shop on the first floor, took the elevator up to his division. However this time, he wasn't just greeted by the secretary he saw everyday. There was a table like you'd see at a job fair set up next to the reception desk. He walked over to Janet and asked what was going on. She told him the FBI was here to recruit new employees. Morgan was confused, he didn't understand why they would want accountants or business administrators to work for the FBI. Then an agent came up to him, asking if he was Morgan Foster. He was surprised the agent knew him by name. Morgan was the only accountant that had his CPA certification, which gave him a lot of perks in the office. The FBI was always looking for more CPA accounts to poach from firms to recruit as employees. After a long conversation with the agent and a lot of consideration, Morgan signed up for training in white collar crime investigations.
In 2015, Morgan left for Quantico, Virginia for new agent training. His coursework mainly focused on fraud and financial statement analysis, but he also trained in firearms and crime scene processing techniques. After graduation, he was sent to D.C. on a bank fraud task force. At the end of 2015, he was randomly transferred to a counter-terrorism squad in D.C. The director wanted to experiment with the idea of having a white collar agent mix with CT agents. The new task force included SSA Gibson, SA Foster, SA Hernandez, SA Greenwood, and Dr. Howell. Under his new Supervisor, Special Agent Gibson, Foster tracked any paper trail known terrorist cells left behind. Hoping to find any way to prevent future attacks. The task force became a very efficient and productive unit.
In May of 2017, the FBI took note of the situation in Chernarus. Constantly tried to contact the Chernarussian government for information, but with no response. Fearing a large scale terrorist attack, the FBI Director made a decision to send SSA Gibson's task force to Chernarus to gather intel and report back. Foster still being a relatively new agent, was excited for this opportunity, but was also worried for his mother if something were to happen to him. He called her to let her know he would be on a business trip to secure an account for his firm. She wasn't aware he was an FBI agent. That would be the last time he would speak to his mother. Keeping that lie from her is one of the biggest regrets of his life.
The task force took off from D.C. and landed at Krasnostav International on May 3rd. Just in time for the declaration of martial law by the government. They were picked up by a U.S. contact and driven to Chernogorsk to stay at the international hotel. The task force was undercover as accountants coming to reconcile accounts with chernarussian businesses that had assets in the United States. Since the local government had not given them an invitation to the country, their investigation had to be discreet. No weapons, no arrests, just notes, photographs, and physical evidence if possible.
In July, things started to get way out of hand. The agents heard civilians talk rumors about the situation in the north. Constant military jets flying over and the sounds of war raging rattled the citizens of South Zagoria. On the 17th, U.S. troops arrived to Chernogorsk, the agents met with an officer and told them their situation. He told them he would meet them at the international hotel and attempt to extract them on the 19th. At 11:30pm on July 18th, Foster and his team packed their bags and went down to the lobby to check out. They waited outside for the army officer to meet with them, when they spot a cargo plane barreling towards the hotel. They grabbed who they could and ran from the hotel just before the plane struck the building in a large fireball. The city was awakened by a deafening blast, setting off mass panic and terror.
SSA Gibson decided to lead his team and the 4 civilians they rescued into the forest to get their bearings and hope to find U.S. troops to link up with. They headed north, pushing through the terrified crowd in the streets. Morgan felt like he had been running for hours, until they finally made it to the trees just north of Chernogorsk. Everyone dropped to the ground to catch their breath. A woman looked back at Cherno and let out a scream Morgan would never forget. They all spun around and saw Chernogorsk in flames. Everyone stared in disbelief. This was hell on earth that none of these survivors had ever experienced before.
A man told the agents there was a small village name Nadezhdino that had a police station they could go to. With no other options they began to head out through the trees seeking help from the local PD. Throughout their walk, they heard the eerie howls of wolves. After about 15 minutes, three of the civilians were attacked by the wolves. The fourth tried to save his wife, who was torn to shreds almost immediately. He met the same fate soon after. SA Greenwood grabbed a wolf that had a woman by the ankle and broke its neck. When the other agents came to aid him, two more wolves latched onto Greenwood, burying him with their weight and fur. The agents had no choice but no leave them behind.
When the remaining agents made it to Nadezhdino, there was no one left. The entire village, abandoned. They broke into the police station and armed themselves with glock 19s and MP5s the officers left behind. Gibson told them of a backup safehouse if things were to get out of hand. It was just north of the Northwest military airfield. Their journey took them days. They knew they had to stick together to survive.
Finally arriving to the safehouse on July 20th, they all took a much needed rest to regroup and come up with a plan. Gibson and Hernandez decided to head out the following day to find more civilians in need of rescuing. Morgan stayed with Dr. Howell as a doctor was a very important asset in a situation like this. After about an hour, Morgan heard gun shots and screaming getting closer to the house. He looked out the window and saw the muzzle flashes in the pitch black of night. He heard Gibson screaming for Morgan and Dr. Howell. Hernandez was wounded, Gibson dragging him along by the collar of his shirt. Both of them shooting behind them into the dark. Morgan ran outside with his pistol drawn, Dr. Howell standing behind him with his own sidearm. As Gibson and Hernandez came into the glow of the fire they had made earlier, so did the group of rabid humans that were chasing them. One jumped and grabbed onto Hernandez, pulling him from Gibson's grasp. Gibson turned around and began firing at them as their eyes lit up in the fire's glow. Morgan tried to keep them off of them, but Gibson and Hernandez were soon overrun, screaming in agony. Foster grabbed Dr. Howell and ran back into the house. Locking all of the doors and blowing out candles they had lit. Gunshots were heard off in the distance, the infected monsters all got up and turned towards the sound and set off in a dead sprint for another meal.
As the sun began to rise, Morgan and Dr. Howell walked out to see what happened. Gibson and Hernandez were mauled beyond recognition. Heads crushed from being trampled. Both falling to their knees, Morgan and Howell were lost for words. Morgan found a shovel in one of the backyard sheds, and began digging graves for Gibson and Hernandez, then for all of the infected people they killed trying to save them. By the time he was done it was late afternoon. He stuck his shovel in the dirt and starting walking towards the well to wash his hands. A single gunshot was heard in the safehouse. Morgan ran in with his gun drawn, only to find Dr. Howell dead on the bedroom floor with a gunshot wound to the head. Morgan dug another grave that night, and was now alone.
Morgan is torn on what he wants now. He tries to focus on his assignment, but loses hope there will be anyone to report back to if he does find anything. His biggest fear is to be alone, but he is afraid joining a group could get people hurt. He lives with survivors guilt, not only from his task force, but also from his father's death and the unknown status of his mother. Morgan remains at the safehouse to this day. Using his farming skills his grandmother taught him, and picking apples to survive. He occasionally will set out looking for a group, but is hesitant to commit, due to the fear of losing more people he cares about.