[hider=Benjamin 'Old Ben' Spencer]
[b]Name[/b]: 
[indent]Benjamin 'Old Ben' Spencer[/indent]

[b]Age[/b]:
[indent]50[/indent]

[b]Gender[/b]: 
[indent]Male[/indent]

[b]Appearance[/b]: 
[indent]Some people have their whole life written on their face, whether it's in scars, sunken eye sockets or deep smile lines. Sometimes you can just tell this man has a laugh like a foghorn or this woman hasn't slept properly for five years, from the haunted look in their eyes or smile perpetually playing around their lips. It depends on the person, some are easy to read and some are harder, some haven't lived enough to get marked and some have lived too varied a life to be pinned down. For Ben, it's no difficult task; Ben looks to have hurt people and been hurt by people for a long time.

His skin is more weathered than tanned, looking like old leather that's seen more sun than it needs to dry it out, and has a litany of scars and wrinkles. A lifetime of travelling to, fighting in and living around combat zones have taught Ben to keep his salt-and-pepper hair cropped close to his head, though he allows himself the luxury of a trim beard. He's a little below average height, thickset and well muscled. He's not going to make the cover of a fitness magazine or anything but you also wouldn't want to run into him in a dark alleyway.

Ben's voice is gravelly and rough, a bit like the man himself, but is pre-eminently understandable and his speech is always clear. He knows there's nothing worse than having to ask someone to repeat themselves in a warzone. His stance is generally low shouldered and loose, arms hanging at his sides and rolling gently on the balls of his feet. It's the same way a boxer stands before the referee calls the fight, ready to weave sideways or to throw a punch.[/indent]

[b]Agency/Organization[/b]: 
[indent]Previously head of Operations for Castleman Security, a Private Military Contractor.[/indent]

[b]Education[/b]: 
[indent]4 years with the US military, 10 years with the Green Berets, 6 years with the DEA, 11 years with Castleman Security.[/indent]

[b]Background[/b]: 
[indent]To describe all of Old Ben's history would take several long books (he should know, he's tried writing his memoirs a couple times before) but the gist of it can be summed up like so; born a farmer, became a soldier, fought, killed, never stopped. If that's enough, read no further. If not, read on...

[hider=Backstory]
The American heartland produces all sorts of products for the nation; wheat, potatoes, country songs and patriots. Old Ben, before he was Old Ben and was in fact Young Benjamin, was born to a pair of farmers who moved far from any metropolis or urban centre when they became disenfranchised with mainstream American life, preferring to keep themselves to themselves and raise their son to do the same. Ben's father, Samuel, had served his country in his youth however, and fully intended for his son to do the same thing. And if a Spencer was to do a thing, they'd do it well. From a very young age, Ben was trained for fitness, stamina and in the use of firearms. His father was no sadist and no professional, but he believed in hard work and enforced the same ethic on his son.

When he was old enough to enlist he did his family and country proud. After his first four year tour, during which he saw action in several theatres including the invasion of Grenada, he returned to the farm a changed man. They say no one returns from the army the same way they left, whether they return in glory, infamy or something in between. For Ben, the farm felt someone less than what it was. It was big and empty and quiet, not like the Base where he'd been trained or the barracks he'd been stationed at. He missed being one among many, a member of a tribe with brothers and, more rarely, sisters on every side. It came as no surprise to his parents when he re-enlisted and they bade him farewell with pride.

Ben chose something a little dicier for his second tour; he entered the Special Forces Qualification Course or 'Q Course', in order to qualify for the Green Berets. It was gruelling, taxing and took more will than Ben thought he had. But at the end of it, after the mud and dirt and blood and sweat, he donned his Green Beret, saluted and felt it was all worth it. Of course, to quote the motto of one of the Green Beret's traditional rivals, the US Navy SEALs, [i]The only easy day was yesterday[/i]. After training, Ben found himself deployed into new and varied combat zones, facing challenges and opponents more hellish than ever before. Through ten years, Ben maintained a certainty in the righteousness of purpose that his superiors remarked was truly commendable. Ben never doubted, as a young man, that he and his were in the right.

Again looking for a change of pace, Ben accepted an offer to head up a DEA Special Response Team or SRT. It was still fighting the good fight, just with a healthier pay-check at the end of the day. It was during an operation in Mexico seven years later, that his faith was finally shaken, a strike against a local drug lord inhibiting operations of the US-backed insurgents. The mission was to be overseen by an outsider, a man named Steve Foster who held no obvious official rank. Unusual, to be sure, but you learn not to question people your superiors are bowing to, so the squad simply did as they were instructed. The strike went well, hostiles being eliminated for no return casualties during the assault and the primary target having no time to stage an escape. They looked set for evacuation before the now deceased drug lord's soldiers could marshal themselves to retaliate when the cold voice of Foster came over the comms. The squad were instructed to search the mansion they had just stormed for a particular statue, no bigger than a paperweight.

It took time and while they found it, the evacuation zone was hot by the time they were ready to leave. Two operatives were wounded as a result, one dying in surgery a day later, much to Ben's anger. It seemed pointless to spend lives for such an inconsequential prize, especially for without knowing what the damn thing was. Foster seemed aware of the resentment the squad held for him but made no sign that it mattered when he collected the statue, a stone figure of a screaming skull-faced woman, from Ben. None of his superior officers or handlers had any answers for Ben as to the importance or relevance of the object, nor of who Steve Foster was. He had come, they said, with authorisation of the very highest kind and had made it clear that the completion of his orders were as important or more than the completion of the mission.

There was so much wrong with that mission, with how things had gone and how his squad had been treated that Ben felt himself filled with rage. He wanted answers, justifications, the truth and, for no reason he could easily pin down, he wanted that statue back. But his requests for access to information, both formal and informal, were denied, blocked and stonewalled. The rage was left to cook and simmer, driving Ben from the front lines after it spilled out in the field and nearly caused a very serious incident. What followed was enjoyable for no one, as Ben was psychologically reassessed and eventually asked to step down. He had committed no crimes and his mental state was not deemed as unstable but his actions in the field, combined with advice from an unnamed third party, caused the hastily assembled committee to believe it best that Ben end his career with the DEA.

As luck would have it, Ben did not end up back on the farm with his widowed mother, as a concerned former CO instead arranged for him to meet with the CEO of a private military contracting company, Castleman Security. They needed someone with experience to coordinate and lead their field operations in the middle east and offered a substantial incentive to do so. Ben took the job and the money, and dived into the shadowy world of mercenaries and guns-for-hire. Without that certainty in his righteousness he'd once clung to, he found himself strangely detached from morality. He allowed things to be done, either through inaction or straight up assent, that should have haunted him for weeks or cast a shadow on is soul. Instead, they barely even registered on his radar.

Ben was still a man possessed, still intent on finding Foster and the statue. He saw the man's face everywhere and the statue paraded through his dreams nightly, he could no more forget them than sever his own arm. Privately, he suspected this job offer had been given to him in part to get him away from the souther US and Mexico but that didn't matter. With the payouts from his work with Castleman, he could easily afford to employ others to chase down leads, ask questions and take the risks. It took time and money but Ben had both and, after just over a decade of searching, he had a solid lead on Foster. Without hesitation, Ben excused himself from his ties with Castleman Security and made his way back stateside. But before he could seek out his quarry, the son of a bitch came to him and with a job offer, no less.

Now, Ben knew what it was to work for Foster and didn't particularly want to do it again. But equally, this was his first real chance to get closer to that damned statue, the one that had haunted his dreams for all these years, and it would probably be his last too. He took the job and swore to take whatever opportunity presented itself to get Foster alone and settle up for old scores.
[/hider][/indent]

[b]Personality[/b]: 
[indent]Like many people of a more advanced age, Ben doesn't take kindly to fools or time wasters. He's seen enough of them in his life and doesn't particularly feel the need to talk to any more, especially not now his luck is probably running dry. So those that don't get to the point or don't know what the point is get a short shrift from Ben. Those who know their mind and aren't afraid to speak it, however, should get along just fine with him, so long as they also know when to shut up. When something is up, you can be sure Ben will tell you, whether you like it or not. Maybe you're not cooking the soup quite right, maybe you missed a spot while cleaning your rifle, you can be sure he'll let you know. And he expects the same from others, as long as the criticism is constructive. Ben believes in telling people when they've gone wrong and hopes others will do the same for him. Not that he feels he goes wrong often...

He can be a little grumpy, a little cantankerous but only when he's not on a job. Without a purpose, Ben feels aimless and frustrated, like a guard dog on holiday. With something to focus on, he tends to be gruffly cheerful if a little pushy. In fairness to him, he only pushes in direction of efficiency and a better end product. While on a job, Ben constantly watches the other members of the team to make sure they're on alert and doing all they can to make sure the job succeeds with as few messes as possible, even if he's not leading the team. Success means life, he sometimes says, and he doesn't intend to die just yet and especially not because some young idiot didn't check his corners. Privately, Ben has his own reasons for wanting to live just a little bit longer, his very own obsession, but you wouldn't know it unless he told you.[/indent]

[b]Skills[/b]:
[indent][i]Gifted[/i] (+5):
[indent]Marksmanship, long guns
Hand-to-Hand[/indent]
[i]Adept[/i] (+3): 
[indent]Marksmanship, handguns
SERE
Awareness[/indent]
[i]Average[/i] (+2): 
[indent]Marksmanship, sniper
Stealth
Interrogation[/indent]
[i]Novice[/i] (+1): 
[indent]First Aid
Engine Mechanics
Demolitions/EOD
Persuade[/indent][/indent]

[b]Languages[/b]:
[indent]Fluent in English and Spanish, some words and phrases in Pashto[/indent]

[b]Clout[/b]:
[indent][i]Robert James, CEO of Castleman Security[/i]
[indent]Ben's boss for a decade, Mr. James holds no small amount of US defence contracts and has significant pull in Washington and at the Pentagon. However, it's entirely unofficial pull and a somewhat shady flavour of unofficial at that.[/indent]

[i]Virgil Riley, DEA Chief of Operations[/i]
[indent]A concerned friend and former CO of Ben's, Virgil originally set him up with Castleman Security and would like to see his old friend stay out of trouble. But while he's happy to pull a few strings and bend a few rules for Ben, Virgil has his own career to think about.[/indent][/indent]

[b]Weaknesses[/b]: 
[indent][i]Physical Age[/i]:
[indent]Ben isn't a young man anymore, hasn't been for some time, and while he keeps himself fit and strong, you can only do so much. He's more ponderous than younger operatives, with less spring in his and slower reflexes, not to mention a frustrating lack of stamina. He's not completely decrepit though, and there's something that seems to drive him to keep moving when he should, by all ights, be lying on the floor and bleeding quietly.[/indent]

[i]Man with a Purpose[/i]
[indent]Ben has a job to do, one he is utterly incapable of not pursuing. For the past decade, a man and an item have haunted his dreams. For most of that time, he was sure they were both on a different continent and far outside his reach. Recently, though, the situation and has changed and they're so close he can almost taste them. Should an opportunity come up to get closer to finding the statue, Ben will take without a second thought.[/indent][/indent]

[b]Off-Duty Clothing/Equipment[/b]: 
[indent][i]Clothing[/i]: 
[indent]Prefers tough materials in black or grey, loose fitting enough to move but not to get caught on anything. Generally paired with mirrored sunglasses and a baseball cap.[/indent]
[i]Weapons[/i]: 
[indent]Glock 30, Marines tactical Knife.[/indent]
[i]Tools/Equipment[/i]: 
[indent]Set of Lock-picks, Multi-tool, First Aid Kit.[/indent][/indent]

[b]Operational Clothing/Equipment[/b]: 
[indent][i]Clothing[/i]:
[indent]Same as off duty, with the addition of a Kevlar vest, tactical rig and an armoured helmet.[/indent]
[i]Weapons[/i]:
[indent]M4 Carbine with M26 Modular Accessory Shotgun and CompM2 Sight, Glock 30, Karambit Knife.[/indent]
[i]Tools/Equipment[/i]: 
[indent]Two fragmentation grenades, two flashbang grenades, Flashlight, NVGs[/indent][/indent]
[/hider]