Warren Mitchell (Warhawk)

Weight: 165

Apparent Age: 60

Archetype: Mercenary

Preferred Weapon: DAOD Plasma Assault Shotgun

Runner Song: 

 

 Bio: The Warhawk is a man with a very long tale deeply embedded in our troubled history. This man was once an officer and a gentlemen, he served in the US Marine Corps as an officer and once he retired from active service the Warhawk entered the political arena and got himself elected senator for his home state of Nevada. The Warhawk was born and raised in Las Vegas and he is a true patriot and hero of war, this man bleeds the red, white and blue. Once he left the Marine Corps at rank of Colonel he served the senate proudly and fought hard for his people and for his fellow veterans, this man was the unsung hero for the forgotten and neglected and was an actual public servant and loved by his people and he returned the favour by sticking to his guns regardless of how unpopular it made him.

          You would think a man of his wealth, status and upbringing would have been warned and ushered off to safety from the events that would dramatically scar the face of our country for many years to come, but that sadly never happened. The Warhawk lost everything in a single night, his family, his home, his state, his country, his job and the respect of his people. When the natives unleashed the magic’s of the Ghost Dance and invaded the cities of America, Las Vegas was one of the worst hit and it’s people where ravaged, raped, and massacred in the streets. Those that survived either went into hiding or where dragged off to native camps where their nightmare continued. The People believed that there leaders had failed them and let this happen, since the military and Washington did nothing and not even a peep from the White House or the Capital Building. The Warhawk mean while was screaming and demanding that they take action, and send in the military and strike back, though he was out voted and his cries fell on deaf ears. He was also informed by the Senate Leader that his position as Senator of Nevada was no longer needed, since his state was being given to the natives and he was out of a job. The Warhawk didn’t take that message sitting down and Senator Young found out the hard way why you never mess with an old Marine, as the Warhawk in his frustration and anger clenched his fist and made swift contact with the young senators jaw sending him crashing to the floor.

          Before security could arrest or even escort him out of the building, the Warhawk spit on his fallen foe and left the building and walked out into the chaos of the streets alone, angry and confused. He knew he had nothing left but the clothing on his back, the credits in his wallet and government sedan. Even his home in DC was taken from him since he was no longer a senator of a state of the union, this man just entered his car and left the city before they could strip him of even his transportation and possible freedom for striking a senior senator. Warhawk didn’t know where to go so he just started driving the news spoke nothing about what was going on, calling it a freak natural incident. The killing in the streets was even being played out as random gangland violence, he knew the truth and he had proof that the country’s leaders new more about what was going to happen and what was happening then they let on to. He also knew having these documents he swiped off the Vice Presidents desk mere days ago would also make him a target from government black agents, especially an agency only referred to as the Post Office. He knew this agency was the strong arm of the President and would take him out with ease, he also knew that they masqueraded as part of the Department of Defence.

        Knowing that heading west was a death sentence with the natives, going south would but him in conflict with southern rebels and so the Warhawk just drove north hoping to make it Canada or at least to his cabin on the coast of Maine. This way he could regroup, gather his hunting supplies and try to figure out what his next move was. The Warhawk was now a wanted fugitive for assault and theft of classified government documents, he had to tread carefully. After many hours of driving he pulled into the driveway of his cabin and pealed his now sore body out of the car and entered the dark building. He turned the lights on and dropped his briefcase and took a seat in his recliner, grabbing the remote he flicked the television on and lit up a cigar. That’s when everything sunk in and he was finally able to grieve over the loss of his family, his home and come to grips with how quickly his country and countryman turned their backs on him.

       Warhawk was brought out of his grieving as he heard the sounds of the Star Spangled Banner echo off the television, he looked up whipping away the tears and fog from his eyes. He gazed upon the television to meet by a well dressed grey haired gentlemen calling himself Colonial and telling the citizens of the United States he didn’t have much time, but for the first time the truth was being revealed to the people for the first time since this all started, Colonels pirated broadcast was short but his words were powerful and they were back dropped by disturbing images and videos of the nights of blood, Colonel closed his broadcast with only six very powerful words that would change Warhawk’s life forever, he closed with “Citizens this is our Declaration Day!” then the screen shifted back to a baffled anchorman and news crew trying franticly to spin what they just saw as a trailer to some upcoming blockbuster movie.

       Though the truth had been reviled and for this troubled man, lost and confused his spirit was reignited by those words, and he was determined to make a difference once again or die trying, for the tree of liberty was needing refreshing and this patriotic man was going to fight for liberty come hell or high water. He his suit and tie, hung them in the closet and began to don his hunting clothes, leaving the bright orange reflectors in the closet, he could almost hear his wife screaming at him for that. He loaded his pack, loaded his side arm and riffle, slung his shot gun placed his military cap on and walked out into the night. He ignited his lighter and brought the flame to his cigar took a puff and he closed the door leaving Senator Mitchell behind and emerged into the world new and reborn, he was now the Warhawk and he was about to make the enemy pay dearly for there sins.

       This man was inside the forested coastal regions of northern Maine, so there wasn’t much fighting to be found. Though he did find a small band of native soldiers that were ransacking the hunting cabins and he could hear gunshots from within the building, the Warhawk quickly fell back into his training and he stalked the natives like they were a deer. Once in range he got one of them into his sites and fired, the bullet ripped through the targets body and it feel limp, Warhawk had made the first kill in many years, but sadly this was only the first of many many more people to fall to the Warhawk. Once he fired and killed his first target, the fighting broke out and this old veteran was able to make short work of the rookie native squad.

      Through the years the Warhawk just travelled the back roads, he lived off the land and resupplied from the soldiers he would kill. Eventually though this old vet would meet a force that even he couldn’t take on, and he figured there was now way to avoid them and his only option was to fight, and take as many of them with him as he could. The Warhawk opened fire, and the bullets just tore threw the night, the shots rang out like fireworks during a Independence Day celebration. one by one the native soldiers began to fall, and for a split second the Warhawk thought he might actually be victorious. Till his overconfidence was shattered when a bullet tore into his shoulder and then another and another and another his body was being riddled with bullets. He could feel he was dying, the fight was taken out of him and he collapsed, the last thing he saw was a young native soldier spit on him and then BANG. 

        Warhawk awoke to feeling the warmth of morphine and the sounds of medical personnel franticly moving around. He knew he was in a field hospital, but who, where, why, and again who. He tried to look around but he was strapped down and his movements restricted, thats when he saw from a distance the man he saw on the television years earlier. This time dressed in military fatigues and slinging an odd riffle, he could barley make out the patch on his shoulder that read Sons Of Liberty. He tried to speak but only a whisper came out, he was still recovering and then darkness again.

       When he awoke again, he no longer hurt, though he felt weird and cold. He no longer had that sense of humour he used to have and he just felt like a darkness had consumed his soul. He now understood how a street samurai must feel as he saw brand new cyberware that replaced his arm and leg, his eyes where cybernetic and so was his ears. He as well had a partial cyber torso. He was thankful to be alive, but how can this be living if your forced to live with more metal than meat. His soul replaced with metal and his organs replaced with an advanced bioware, the Warhawk was angry again, but more hie was just confused and didn’t understand what had happened to him.

      He was approached by a nurse, who just came straight out with it, “When Colonel found you, you were worse for wear and nearly dead. He felt he had to do what he could to save you, he knew who you were and who you had become and this was the only way he could thank you for your dedication to the cause.” Oh before you ask, Colonel said there is no charge and no obligation for you to join the fight.” The Warhawk stood there baffled and speechless. He just answered with where do I sign up, and what do you need me to do, the nurse just pointed to the CO’s office and said there for starters and take care Senator.

        The rest is history, the Warhawk joined the Sons of Liberty also known as the Freedom Patriots that day officially and was given the honorary rank of Colonel, he has been a thorn in the side of the enemy native forces for decades and even returned to Las Vegas to assist in there rebellion against the NAN. The Warhawk has been placed back into the Senate but this time, it’s the Seattle City Senate to work alongside Senate President Marvin McCarthy, though when the sun goes down and darkness descends upon the city the Warhawk takes to the streets and is out for vengeance and this old timer is a true bringer of war, he will not rest till the last of the enemy has felt his wrath for this is his Deceleration Day.