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[i]Name[/i]: Master Sergeant Giovanni Marcellus
[i]Callsign[/i]: “Booties”
[i]B.A.S.E. Degree[/i]: Banal
[i]Threat Level[/i]: N/A

[i]Age[/i]: 42
[i]Appearance[/i]: Giovanni is in his middle age, and it shows largely in his facial features and hair - he has the figure of somebody holding on to strength, but the wrinkles in his face, the weariness of once-bright blue eyes, and the salting of otherwise-dark brown hair shows that strength is waning. Outfit-wise, he tends to stick to the uniform offered by PZPRS, a fairly dark-toned modification of military uniform with no identifying markers beyond PZPRS’s symbol on the inside of one chest pocket.

[i]Personality[/i]: He is, for want of better phrasing, a perfect military man. Loyal to whoever has his service, which for a great long time has been the US Army and the USA as a whole, and is currently the Paranatural Zoology and Physics Research Syndicate, he’s seen the best and worst of the world through the lens of a veteran, and it has shaped him accordingly, his responses to most events pretty well engineered to those of a soldier, and more precisely a sergeant of several decades.

[i]Background[/i]: Born to an impoverished family of Italian descent, Giovanni followed the path of a great many college students and joined the military at a young age. In theory part of a reserve unit, it was only a few years after that when a certain nation-shaking event changed things for him forever: deployed to the Middle East, Giovanni spent countless years fighting in the name of the United States of America, against foes who he saw as the bane of world safety, with for the most part not enough time spent back home to even realise the folly of his hatred of people who he didn’t even quite understand were of different cultures... until he was injured at the age of forty, and sent home to rest and recover until he could return to the front line. With nothing else to do, he did his research, realised the truth, and as soon as he could stand requested he be sent home with an honourable discharge.
Returning home physically was one thing. Mentally was quite another - in the end, the fighting had left its scars, as it does on most veterans, and he struggled immensely to find work with any civilian faculty. Eventually, he hit a low point; and it was there that an agent of a group he’d never heard of before approached him, asking him to visit them and see if he had what it took to be an employee of theirs. He agreed begrudgingly - it couldn’t be worse than the mental demons he had going already. Little did he know that the entity he’d be put up against, as head of a squadron of prospective hires, would try to insert its own; a quirk of its paranaturality kept those who suffered PTSD from being too badly affected, and of a group of ten potential victims of intense madness, only he and two others stood tall enough to fend it off and capture it for the company - or rather, for the Syndicate. A permanent position was offered to him, and he took it, finding a new purpose as a Hard Cover Agent.

[i]Specialty[/i]: Leader/Coordinator
[i]Gear[/i]: Bullet-resistant vest, to avoid being shot.
M4 carbine, for effective military-grade firepower in confined spaces.
M9 pistol, for close-quarters firing.
KA-BAR US army knife, for CQC.
Group radio, to communicate with and relay orders to fellow squad members relatively silently and/or from a distance.

[i]Paranatural Effects[/i]: N/A
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