Full Name: Devlin Richards a.k.a. "Reaper"
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Job: Saboteur
Equipment/Weaponry: Wow...where to begin. First of all, the man wears black hiking boots, black jeans and a black undershirt covered by an ostentatious black fur coat. Plus a black leather belt of course. Hanging from the left side of the belt is a custom made holster holding a sub-machine gun plus two catridges of ammunition, all armor piercing. The right side has a semi-automatic pistol with only one extra ammo cartridge. Within the coat, Devlin has sewn about fifteen different pockets housing all manner of small explosive components that when assembled, form roughly four claymore trip-mines. Inside his left boot it a compact butterfly-knife. Just in case.
Appearance:
Why are you in Garrison Alpha?: Just stopping by for supplies, nothing big.
How smart are you on a scale of 1-10?: It all depends on his mood. Devlin is technically a psychopath, you know.
Personality: Two words. Cray. Zee. This guy has been messed up pretty bad by the destruction of his convent, leading to random bouts of bi-polarity, hysteria and sometimes just plain ass-holery. Other than these spastic changes of mental state, Devlin is fairly polite and soft-spoken as well as having an affinity for those of the female persuasion.
Backstory: The first day of the invasion, he was only twelve, and in the middle of London no less. It was hell on the kid. Everyone around him died in screaming torrents of blood and steel, and he couldn't think of anything but to run. Devlin had come here to see family, to show off how good he had gotten with his acrobatic stunts...not be eaten by robots. That day, instead of snapping under the pressure like any normal child, this one kid resolved himself to killing everything that was metal and moved. Of course, he had to escape the city first.
Fast-forward two years, where he was introduced to the first european convent; Camp Holder. This was where the boy learned his calling in life...making things go boom. He was trained by an ex. demolition expert how to create, assemble and maintain explosives. This combined with Devlin's innate intelligence and physical agility made him a great scout. He could sneak and get out of trouble if necessary, with a bang. Since that point Devlin took on the nickname Reaper.
In another six years the young saboteur would go on to form his own convent, Convent Reaper. The settlement grew swiftly and became reknown for how well they combated the bots, but it was all for naught. Two years later, one evening, Reaper assigned a particularly drug-addled guard on watch duty for the northern wall...he didn't notice the man's dialted eyes, and went about with his own work. It took only minutes before the first units stormed through the gates. It was horrible. Most died in their sleep, others who arose to defend their homes were eaten alive or captured. No suitable defense could be formed, and the bots set up a perimeter around the settlement to cut off any possible escape. Devlin, whose living quarters were underground, was oblivious to the entire ordeal...and when he awoke, unlike so many years ago...he snapped. The bots were gone, and they had razed the convent. Not even a single corpse was left either, only bloodstains. Since then Reaper has roamed his failed convent, only ever leaving to visit Garrison Alpha for supplies.