Your name is Jason Cross, age 27. You had a shaved head, dark blue-hazel eyes and a slim, yet muscular build. You were a reasonably friendly and cool-headed guy, though you did have a somewhat aggressive and rebellious attitude, yet was also cold, hardened and fearless. You were also smart, tough, bold, daring, headstrong, ambitious and wasn't afraid to take on a challenge or get your hands dirty. You were also quite street-smart and knew how to handle yourself. You were also a remarkably gifted mechanic, and a natural behind the wheel. You were also an ace marksman and an expert in hand-to-hand combat. You grew up in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania with your parents.
Unfortunately, you had a rough upbringing. Your father was a violent alcoholic who frequently abused you and your mother, while your mother did little to prevent it, often making excuses to justify his behavior, much to your frustration. You eventually took up boxing and martial arts as a way to vent your anger, and became quite skilled at it.
Going into your teenage years, you developed an affinity for cars, and studied auto mechanics in high school, becoming quite a skilled mechanic by the time you were 15. At age 16, shortly after getting your drivers license, you fell in with a small group of car enthusiasts from high school, and would participate in the occasional drag race, and discovered your talent behind the wheel.
Fresh out of high school at age 18, you joined the US Marines, seeking an opportunity to sever ties with your parents and start over. You wound up thriving in the Marines, and went on to serve as a highly-skilled MARSOC operator, rising to the rank of sergeant, and received multiple medals and commendations. After serving in the Marines for a little over 9 years, you were eventually discharged at age 26.
Unfortunately, things had been difficult for you ever since you left the Marines. You were living in a ratty apartment, and had been working numerous dead-end jobs to make ends meet, though you barely made enough to support yourself. Growing tired of your dismal life, you decided to pack your bags and hit the road, hoping to start over somewhere else.
After hitchhiking for a couple weeks, you eventually wound up in Miami, Florida. You were currently walking through the streets of South Beach as night was beginning to fall. You were wearing a dark green combat jacket over a black muscle shirt, a pair of faded denim jeans and a pair of brown combat boots. You stopped and sat down on a nearby bench as you looked out at the ocean nearby. You had your wallet, ID and a little over $10,000, along with your duffel bag, which contained some spare clothes and a few personal belongings.
You sighed heavily, desperate for a chance to turn your life around and make something of yourself. After a few minutes, you stood up and continued walking. After roaming around the streets of South Beach for a little over an hour, you came across,
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