|Title||Retired Black Star Commader|
Immigrated to the United States with parents at age 10.
Brother born 1987.
Sister born 1996.
Brother born 1999. Enlisted in US Army in 2011.
Attained rank of Captain during the height of WWIII.
Brother killed in action in middle Asia, summer 2013.
Special forces assignment fall of 2015.
Dishonorable discharge 2016.
Roaman crumples the stolen report in his strong hands and tosses it aside on the floor by the desk. He runs his hands through his hair and rests his forearms on the desk, staring into the flames in the fireplace opposite his desk. “Dishonorable discharge…” he mutters, and shakes his head. “Lost forty-two men, risked it all…dishonorable…”
Keeping options open for now. Looking for the right job for the right price.
Contuine to be the tip of the spare in all ventures.
"Well I may not have a hit out on you now, but if you don't remove these wires I am sure there will be first thing in the morning." - Ro
(Repeated line) "Dam this was a good shirt..." - Ro
"Down, Mother Fucker! Down!" - Ro
"Ro... isn't his job. His job is a right royal bastard, his job is to have everyone hate him... I dunno what happened between you two but... [a dead friendship] is kinda permanent, ya know? Ro's been through a lot... not that I'm excusing that son of a bitch and I'm not sayin' I don't want to ventilate his center mass on occasion but... for you I say patience. He's worth it." - Nick Sandell, on Roman
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