[hider=Desmond Prescott]
Name: Desmond Prescott

Role: Leader of Squardron

Age: 30

Weight: 170

Height: 5'11

Description of appearence:[img]http://i.kinja-img.com/gawker-media/image/upload/s--DxI5kfZj--/18s3knikji5z8jpg.jpg[/img]
His armor is mostly black with shark mouths on each side of his helmet. There are single red stripes going down the outsides of his arms and legs. Otherwise, his plate carrier, pouches and things of that nature are all black.

Former Military:  United States Marine Corp.

Preferred Callsign: Widow

Brief History: Desmond was born on base in Fort Worth to a marine and a nurse. You could say he was meant to be a soldier from birth, but he'd tell you that you're full of shit. He'd say that war and combat were both bullshit, and that literature and education were the key to advancing human intelligence and harmony among them. He's tell you that the military was  was merely a pawn for political use and expendable in the eyes of the government. He'd tell you he was destined to become a classic poet or world renowned author and philanthropist, anything but a soldier.

After moving from base to base, country to country, Desmond's desire to be a writer dwindled. He saw how insecure the job was, the uncertainty of success. The only thing he knew for sure was base procedure and what ever he father taught him about military life. As he aged, making it ever so closer to being free of a school centered life and being an adult, the military seemed more and more as the most plausible path of life for him. He hadn't completely lost his desire to write, but he saw it simply as a hobby, or maybe something to pick up after a nice bit of service.

So, he joined the Marines. He still hated war and combat. He still thought that the government had no regard for his life. He still believed only literature and education and acceptance were the keys to peaceful life. Luckily, nothing he did in the military conflicted with his beliefs, as there hadn't been a war for years by the time he finally enlisted. He followed almost exactly in his father's footsteps of being moved base to base, except he had no wife or kids to look after, only himself. Never having a permanent home really didn't leave room for friends after all. At least, not ones in real life.

It wasn't until he was about 28 that Desmond was introduced to any sort of real danger, and little did he know that it would be the end of the world as he knew it. He was one of few soldiers that managed to survived the initial outbreak, and was soon a lone wolf, barely scratching out a living in a destroyed America. In a chance meeting, he encountered the CDC, which seemed to still be doing well post-apocalypse. And by 'encountered', he actually woke up in their facility in the Washington D.C ArtAmos zone, after nearly being killed. By what, he couldn't remember. More and more soldiers mysteriously appeared in the facility, by means that Desmond did not know. All he knew is that he was to be in charge of these former soldiers.

Other Info: TBR in the RP.

[/hider]