:: Personal Information ::Full Birth-Given Name: āMy name?....alright, but if you effing laugh I swear to god Iām going to slap the shit out of you. Itās Navarro Ethan Harper. Happy?ā
Preferred Name // Nickname: āAnything but Navarrro. Or Nav...Only my good friend Nellie can call me that. I SUPPOSE you can call me V--IF you know me. If you donāt, itās Staff Sergeant Harper to you.ā
Sexual Orientation & Gender: āIām a straight guy. Do you really need to ask my gender? Are you blind? And whatās with the orientation thing? You hitting on me or somethinā?ā
Years Since My Birth: āItās been 27 years since I was born--Birth Date March 15th, 1986.ā
Also Knowing: āWanted to join the Marine Corps since I was a kid. My dad was a Marine, my grandfather was a Marine, and goddamnit Iām a marine too--OORAH!ā
:: General Information ::A Secret Told to No One: āI got a crush sure. I aināt naminā names though. Youād be better off pullin intel outta me--so in other words, youāre fucked.ā
My One and Only Reason For Existing: āYou laugh I swear Iāll kill you. My cat, Mila. She is one of my reasons for existing anyway. My other reason is a good friend of mine, Daniella. I call her Nellie though. If it werenāt for them two, Iād probably have said āScrew Thisā to the apocalypse.ā
Those Who Brought Me Into This World: āJohn and Marissa Harper--both of whom are dead.ā
Those Made To Survive This World Alongside Me: Petty Officer Second-Class Genevieve Lily-Marie Deveroux--sheās the only sister I got, my sister in arms. We met during a rather heated Joint Op--that girl is bad-fuckinā-ASS.ā
Faithful Furry Companions: āMila is my furry companion. Iāve had this girl for about...2 years now? I bought her as a kitten to keep me company in my down time. She's my best friend--and funnily enough, has a piss ass attitude towards most people. She likes Deveroux though!"
Mila::: Other Information ::Song That Best Describes Me: āāThe Ballad of Serenityā describes me pretty damn well. I know itās a song from a TV show, but it donāt make it less true. You canāt take the sky from me.ā
Weapons Carried on My Person at All Times:*<Assault Rifle>FN SCAR-L Mk 16 CQC [shotgun attachment and scope] (.556 mm)
*<handgun>M45 MEU SOC [Tactical Flashlight attachment] (.45 ACP)
* Combat Knife
Here's the Story of My Past and How I Have Survived This Long:āSo you wanna know how I survived? You wanna know about me, a bit of who I am? Well alright then, Iāll tell you. Iām a Force Recon, born and bred--like my dad before me, and his dad before him. I still donāt know what happened to him though. He was called out on a mission, came back in a pine box--KIA, but nobody told me how. My mother was crushed, heartbroken even. Me and her, we got through it though. I was 9 and she was 37. Anyway, we were there for eachother, and with the two of us against the fuckinā world, wellā¦.we got close. She was my best damn friend, and though I never stopped thinkinā about dear olā dad, I was able to move past it insomuch as anyone CAN move past such a thing. I still wear his tags around my neck when Iām not in the field. Sort of a memory to him, ya know? They wonāt let me take em in the field though, told me if I get killed they might mistake the names and serial numbers...what the fuck ever. Youād think theyād see āKIAā in the system and no the diff, but whatever.
Anyway, I knew when I stood lookin at that casket, watchinā my mom stare at the flag over draped over the coffin, that Iād follow in his footsteps. That Iād do what I always knew he wanted me to do--Iād join the Marines, and Iād do him proud. EVERYTHING I do, everything Iāve done to get here where I am today, is to honor his memory. He was a do or die man, and while I still donāt know what the hell he did, I DO know he saved a lot of lives out there. And he died fighting. So if I can honor his memory, I damn sure will. *Turns gaze up to the ceiling, letting out a soft sigh* I know heās watching me, from somewhere. And watching over me. In fact, heās with my momma now, ya know--hand in hand. Thanks to the end of the world. She didnāt survive the infected...the walkers, the zombies, whatever the hell you call em.
*sighs again, this one much more bitter, learning head back against the chair.* That was my goddamn greatest failure. I failed my mother. I failed to keep her alive, to look out for her, like my dad always told me to. THAT is something I gotta live with. It aināt my only failure, Iām Force Recon but Iām also human. But it was my biggest. I just hope as sheās watchinā me from above with my dad, she forgives me for not being able to keep her alive. I ummā¦*swallows, hands balling into fists* I sure did a fuckinā A job keepinā myself alive, though. Heh, go figure that one out, yeah?
Anyway, 17 I early enlisted into the Marine Corps and I was top dog in bootcamp. *smirks a little* In fact, I got top scores in marksmanship, was told I had outstanding teamwork and leadership skills. But Iām most proud about my marksmanship. That right there--I know how to put a bullet in somethinā and I do it well. After bootcamp I was stationed overseas--in Alaska, go figure that shit out. Everyone else, they go to Germany or bumfuck Egypt or whatever. Me? I get sent to cold ass Alaska. Donāt ask me why, cause I sure as hell donāt know, but almost nobody was happy about that one. So I was a good little Marine, followed orders, upheld the Marine code, oorah, and at 20, tried out for Force Recon--guess what? I fuckinā made it. Training was hell, about the only tougher is Navy fuckinā SEALs. For the record, swimming is a bitch. I didnāt grow up in no water state, so I aināt no natural born floater, though my Drill Sergeant called me a floater several times in training. Different meaninā though. So you might wanna know what I do, huh? I slip behind enemy lines. I collect intel, I see how many guys there are, how many gotta be killed, I sabotage if need be, I do whatever it is Iām told to do--and I get the job done. Me anā my team, we kick ass like all Marineās do. Weāre the first ones in, we report to the cleanup crew. And sometimes we get to do some major fun BLACK shit, let me tell ya--well, better not or Iād have to cap your ass.
Now I *can* tell you how I met my best friend. Sheās like a sister to me, and if somethinā were to happen to her, I honestly donāt know how Iād take it. Not well, thatās for sure. Sheās the best goddamn thing thatās happened to me--my sister in arms. Sheās alright for a SEAL anyway *chuckles softly, faraway look in eyes* Sheās a good girl. It was a joint-field op--SEALs were on standby waiting for OUR asses to get some intel so they could make their fuckinā raid. Well, shit hit the fan, the damn bad-guys knew we were commin. It was a fuckinā ambush, and my squad was getting the shit kicked out of us. Navy SEALs to the rescue. Petty Officer Second-Class Genevieve Lily-Marie Deverouxā¦.she saved my sorry ass that day. Took a goddamn bullet to the ass--the ASS I tell ya. I was limpinā tryin to hightail it out of there with my squad, got cornered by 5 fuckin guys, shootinā at me--cut off from my boys and fuck. Then I hear the sound of an M4, I see two of the bastards go down, meanwhile Iām in hand to hand combat with another of em--WITH A SHOT-UP ASS! Deveroux comes storming out of nowhere, throws her knife at one of the other guys about to cap me while Iām fighting his buddy, and then shoots his friend. I snapped the SOBās neck that was fighting me, and she helped haul me to safety. If she hadnāt been there that day, Iād have been fucked. From that moment on, she and I were best of friends--always stayed in contact, wrote letters, sent emails, talked on the phone. Spent time together in our downtime--when we were in the same area.
As fortune would have it, weād meet again shortly after the outbreak. Ironically enough, it was another joint op too. Only shit hit the fan (doesnāt it always?). Long miserable story cut short, there was a zombie mob, a few fuckups, and she and I were one of few survivors. Another few fuckups and bad luck, it was just me, her, Mila, and Daxx. We decided it was for the best if we formed our own pack--and I got the one scar I go out of my way to show off--the one on my hand. She bit fucking HARD though, let me tell ya...felt like I got shot. That girl plays *rough* *gives a small wink and a smirk.* Anyway, we eventually found Cook County prison, and decided to play the good guys, helpin defend the civilians. Aināt we special? Seriously though, itās what we did before the outbreak, so hell...aināt much diff except most of the world has gone to shit. You wanted to know earlier who my secret crush was? if you canāt guess after this story, youāre deaf or fuckinā stupid. Take your pick.
How Some People Might See Me:
āHow some people see me huh? Shit, I donāt know. Iām Recon and we are used to beinā pretty quiet. I donāt talk TOO much, but Iām sociable. I think people see me that way. I donāt think theyād see me as the majorly outgoing type but Iām no pariah either. I DO think people see me as the tough guy, Alpha dog that most Spec-Ops are. They donāt realize that we Recon guys avoid combat most of the time. Anyway, I think people see me as competitive, a team player, a leader. Wouldnāt be Spec Ops if I wasnāt, would I?
Standing Before a Mirror, I See:āSo in other words you want to know what I look like. Thatās fine, but there IS a picture...oh you want both?? Is this some kinda psych test or somethinā? OH give me the inkblots! I LOVE the inkblots! I once saw aā¦.*coughs, clearing through* Nevermind. Onto my looks, right. So I am pretty effing short for a guy--about 5ā9.ā Iāve got grey eyes, short cropped brown hair (we aināt called Jarheads for nothing), and...shit, what else can I tell you? A few tattoos. Iāll show you some of those too. Iām Marine to the CORPS baby! Of course I got tats! Iāve got a wolf tattoo oh shit hang on
The Beast Within Me:Snowball:āMy wolf, I jokingly call him Snowball, stands at about 4ā3ā and weighs in at around 170 lbs--maybe a bit more. To be honest, never decided to weigh myself in wolf formā¦.might be kinda fun to do, if I can find a working scale. Anyway, description--yeah. Got sidetracked there. I have orange eyes--Iām the right hand to Deveroux, after all. Heh, sheās definitely the Alpha though. I may be a bit bigger and outweigh her...but that doesnāt mean much. She is one tough wolfie! Got kinda sidetracked again, didnāt I? So, all white fur, orange eyes, and some mean fuckinā teeth. Donāt get on my bad side, yeah?ā
Photographed Picture of Myself:Me:Me Going Black:Tattoos:--------
:: Personal Information ::Full Birth-Given Name: āMy name is Lucinda Julianne Clarke.ā
Preferred Name // Nickname: āIāve gone by many names. Youāre lucky to learn my real name, you know. Anyway, call me Cinda--I *hate* Luci.ā
Sexual Orientation & Gender: āIām a bisexual female--one reason I made such a great spy. I knew how to play both sidesā¦.ā
Years Since My Birth: āMarch 10th, 1981. Iām 33.ā
Also Knowing: āIāve done fieldwork for the CIA for years; Iāve gone by many names, seen a lot of places. And yet, Iāve no place to call home.ā
:: General Information ::A Secret Told to No One: āI donāt have one.ā
My One and Only Reason For Existing: āSimply put, I want to survive as long as I can. Who knows, maybe Iāll find my sister one day--if sheās still alive.ā
Those Who Brought Me Into This World: āGrew up in an orphanage with my sis. I donāt know my birth parents. Never was adopted, either.ā
Those Made To Survive This World Alongside Me: āI have my sister...well, maybe. If she wasnāt killed by the zombies...her name is Marissa Leanne Clark.ā
Faithful Furry Companions: āSadly, I never owned any pets. The Orphanage didnāt allow them, and my life as a spook was too unpredictable for that.ā
:: Other Information ::Song That Best Describes Me:āOut of the Shadowā by Iron Maiden describes me pretty well...and all of us living in these times.ā
Weapons Carried on My Person at All Times:* MP5SD (9mm)
*Five-SeveN with Tactical knife and silencer (5.7Ć28mm)
*LHR Combat Knife
Here's the Story of My Past and How I Have Survived This Long:āMy training, pure and simple. Not to undermine my wolfish secret or anything, but Iāve spent a lot more time in human form. I know how to survive. Iāve been trained to infiltrate, to slip into a country with zero support, do what I have to do, and slip out without anyone even knowing I was there. Of course, I also have training in more...violent measures for survival. I used to be a member of the Army--four years later, I was in Delta-Force; i was the first woman to ever be recruited by the group. After serving in Delta doing various counter-terrorism ops, among other more āblackā projects, the CIA recruited me. I spent a few years at Quantico, was trained in The Farm, and I became a working Field Agent. You might wonder what I did, what my missions where...letās just say, Iāve killed my fair share of people. Itās a wonder my eyes arenāt blueā¦.
I donāt talk much about my past beyond that. I grew up in an orphanage with my sister. You wanna know what happened to my parents, well...youāre asking the wrong girl. My sis mightāve told you, but I wonāt. Theyāre dead, thatās all that matters. I got along well enough in the orphanage though, just me and Rissa, as I called her. We werenāt the most popular where we grew up, got picked on by the other children. We never did get adopted--and my sister, being a year older than I am, left the orphanage first. When I was able to leave at 18, I managed to find her, she kept close tabs on me, even kept in contact. Soon as I was able to leave, I spent about 3 months living with Marissaā¦.and then I joined the Army.
From there, well...it was the usual stuff. Excelled in bootcamp, made promotions rather quickly, ended up seeing combat in Iraq, proved myself...was offered a spot in Delta, and accepted...then operated in various ops around the world. Believe it or not, I was a sniper for the Delta Force, and those are some top spots. Yeah, I was that good a shot. Anyways, I was later recruited, as I said, but the CIA where I learned...other things. More covert things...Anyway, my last mission was in Afghanistan where I was...well I canāt tell you that. But I was overseas in the sandbox, only not as a soldier. I was dark, if I got caught, government would deny that they even knew my name. Iād completed my mission, and came home just in time to witness the end of the world. Of course, my sis never knew what I did, she thought I was army Spec-ops. Had to tell her that, she wasnāt even allowed to know I was Delta Force, let alone involved in the CIA as a spook. After the outbreak, I tried to find Rissa, but she wasnāt at home. All I saw was blood. So much blood...couldāve been walker blood, I suppose. Mightāve been hers too. I donāt know.
Ever since I saw the inside of her house that day...I wasnāt the same. The one person left on the planet I cared about, probably dead. I vowed to find out what happened to her though. Every time I kill a walker, I look at their face first, just to be sure. JUST to know if itās her or not. I wonder what Iād do, if I found my sis among the walking dead...could I do it...could I end her life again? I hope it doesnāt come to that...
How Some People Might See Me: āIām dedicated, loyal, and short. I donāt hesitate to do what I have to to finish a mission. Any mission. Back when I was a field agent, before all this shit went down, I was one of the best. Thatās not me being a narcissist, thatās me being honest. When it comes to survival, I do what has to be done. And I will do *whatever* I have to do, to find my sister. I just hope sheās still alive, and not one of...of themā¦ā
Standing Before a Mirror, I See: āIām rather pale skinned and I have very light blue eyes. My hair is short and black, not quite down to my shoulders. I often cover the bottom of my face whenever I walk; makes my breathing harder to hear and I donāt like people knowing who I am. Call it old habits. Iāve lived my life in the black, hiding my identity, blending in. Had to, or my sister wouldāve been killed by some fucking asswipe terrorist a long time ago...Iām not overly tall, either, only about 5ā 4ā and I weigh in at about 130.
The Beast Within Me: āMy beast, if you insist on calling her that, has bright violet eyes, grey and white fur, and is rather small for a wolfie, standing at 3ā 11ā at the shoulders. I call her, Verelle...
Verelle:Photographed Picture of Myself:Me: