In GameHistory
Dec. 13th, 2012 03:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hesnoheroAlex Summers was born 20-some odd years ago, and spent much of his childhood raised by his older brother and mother, after his father died. It was an odd experience, and he always believed that someone needed to just be a level headed person, just not crazy. that wasn't really how things turned out.
Shortly after his brother went to West Point, Alex was involved in a small situation, where a policeman was gunned down before his eyes. Raised by the king of responsibility, Alex didn't run despite his age. instead, he picked up the cop's gun and killed the man who had shot him. The kill was by luck more than anything, and the cop's testimony, delivered while still in bandages, assured that Alex was ruled to have committed self-defense. Alex begged his mother not to tell Scott, and with misgivings, she agreed. Alex, having seen how the world was, decided that sometimes you have to make some noise.
He considered entering the police academy out of high school, but a marine special forces recruiter called on him on graduation day, and left with his signature. Alex boarded the plane to camp and never came home.
He wrote his mother, and even, occasionally, his brother, but mostly he pushed himself to excel in his studies. And he did. Never quite enough for 'special' training, but enough to remain in the special forces. Alex was considered someone who would never amount to much. But when he was called to active duty in the Middle East, that all changed. Alex proved to have a gift at making the right move at the right time. Not because of smarts or wisdom, but pure instinct, and one that sent him running into a fire fight instead of out of one. Inside of two years, he was a captain, and leading a small unit of 'flying' or unattached soldiers. The only reason he wasn't higher was because he had what superior officers called an attitude problem, and tended to be a candid asshole when he talked to people, some of the time.
He was wounded twice, and both times, the doctors signed him off to go home, and both times, Alex proved them wrong, and kept going. He had found his home, and he wanted to stay in it. Not war, but being a soldier. he was good at it, and when someone nicknamed him 'Captain Havok', it stuck. he seemed to lead a crew that could do anything, right up until they walked into an ambush.
Despite the bad intel, bad time, and bad place, Alex somehow led his men, and a bunch more out of that hellhole of a fire zone, but it cost him. He took three wounds, each of which should have killed him. And when he reported his unit to the next available commanding officer, he collapsed. Surgery lasted four days, but he lived.
This time, when they signed him off, he couldn't refuse. Irreparable permanent nerve damage, the reports said, that would make it impossible for him to lead. He was honorably discharged with another medal, and he was sent home. On the way, he ended up being recalled for a desk job, serving as a liaison in Tokyo, Japan for six months before finally heading home. Landing in Los Angeles, he decided to take the long way home, and went to San Diego to see the zoo there, not quite ready to head for Orange County, and his brother.
When he did arrive there, before he could go anywhere, he found himself in the midst of a forest fire threatening homes on the outskirts of Orange County. He pitched in, his experience and military ID quickly getting him promoted to a deputized fireman. Something about it made him smile, and when the fire was over, he headed to a local fire-station and signed up, entering training to become a full-time fireman. He settled in and somehow, with one thing and another, he never quite contacted his brother, even being fairly close by. He worked hard, and did what he could, even though his disability meant sitting out fires sometimes, to his anger.
A year came and went, and he went back to San Diego to pack up his things, feeling fully settled in orange county. There, he attended some therapy sessions with a military doctor, and met a young woman who convinced him to finally seek out his brother.
Shortly after his brother went to West Point, Alex was involved in a small situation, where a policeman was gunned down before his eyes. Raised by the king of responsibility, Alex didn't run despite his age. instead, he picked up the cop's gun and killed the man who had shot him. The kill was by luck more than anything, and the cop's testimony, delivered while still in bandages, assured that Alex was ruled to have committed self-defense. Alex begged his mother not to tell Scott, and with misgivings, she agreed. Alex, having seen how the world was, decided that sometimes you have to make some noise.
He considered entering the police academy out of high school, but a marine special forces recruiter called on him on graduation day, and left with his signature. Alex boarded the plane to camp and never came home.
He wrote his mother, and even, occasionally, his brother, but mostly he pushed himself to excel in his studies. And he did. Never quite enough for 'special' training, but enough to remain in the special forces. Alex was considered someone who would never amount to much. But when he was called to active duty in the Middle East, that all changed. Alex proved to have a gift at making the right move at the right time. Not because of smarts or wisdom, but pure instinct, and one that sent him running into a fire fight instead of out of one. Inside of two years, he was a captain, and leading a small unit of 'flying' or unattached soldiers. The only reason he wasn't higher was because he had what superior officers called an attitude problem, and tended to be a candid asshole when he talked to people, some of the time.
He was wounded twice, and both times, the doctors signed him off to go home, and both times, Alex proved them wrong, and kept going. He had found his home, and he wanted to stay in it. Not war, but being a soldier. he was good at it, and when someone nicknamed him 'Captain Havok', it stuck. he seemed to lead a crew that could do anything, right up until they walked into an ambush.
Despite the bad intel, bad time, and bad place, Alex somehow led his men, and a bunch more out of that hellhole of a fire zone, but it cost him. He took three wounds, each of which should have killed him. And when he reported his unit to the next available commanding officer, he collapsed. Surgery lasted four days, but he lived.
This time, when they signed him off, he couldn't refuse. Irreparable permanent nerve damage, the reports said, that would make it impossible for him to lead. He was honorably discharged with another medal, and he was sent home. On the way, he ended up being recalled for a desk job, serving as a liaison in Tokyo, Japan for six months before finally heading home. Landing in Los Angeles, he decided to take the long way home, and went to San Diego to see the zoo there, not quite ready to head for Orange County, and his brother.
When he did arrive there, before he could go anywhere, he found himself in the midst of a forest fire threatening homes on the outskirts of Orange County. He pitched in, his experience and military ID quickly getting him promoted to a deputized fireman. Something about it made him smile, and when the fire was over, he headed to a local fire-station and signed up, entering training to become a full-time fireman. He settled in and somehow, with one thing and another, he never quite contacted his brother, even being fairly close by. He worked hard, and did what he could, even though his disability meant sitting out fires sometimes, to his anger.
A year came and went, and he went back to San Diego to pack up his things, feeling fully settled in orange county. There, he attended some therapy sessions with a military doctor, and met a young woman who convinced him to finally seek out his brother.
