Your name is Jason Cross, age 32. You had a shaved head, dark blue eyes and a rugged, muscular build. You were a reasonably friendly and cool-headed guy, though you did have a somewhat aggressive and rebellious attitude, yet was also hardened and fearless. You were also smart, tough, bold, daring, clever, headstrong, ambitious and wasn't afraid to take on a challenge or get your hands dirty. You were also street-smart and knew how to handle yourself. You were also a brilliant mechanic, and possessed an impressive amount of talent behind the wheel. You were also an ace marksman, and was also exceptionally skilled in hand-to-hand combat. You grew up in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
Unfortunately, you had a rough upbringing. Your father was a violent alcoholic who regularly abused you and your mother, though your mother did little to stop 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 proved to be a natural at it.
Going into your teenage years, you developed a passion for cars, and studied auto mechanics throughout high school, and quickly became immensely skilled as a mechanic by the time you were 15. Shortly after you turned 16 and got drivers license, you fell in with a small group of car enthusiasts' from high school, and would participate in the occasional drag race in your spare time, and quickly discovered your talent behind the wheel.
After graduating from high school at age 18, you decided to enlist in the US Marines, seeking a chance to get away your parents and start over. You wound up thriving in the Marines, and went on to serve as a highly-skilled Force Recon commando, rising to the rank of captain, and received multiple medals and commendations. After serving in the Marines for 13 years, you were eventually discharged at age 31.
Unfortunately, things had been hard for you ever since you left the Marines. You had been living in a ratty apartment, and worked multiple dead-end jobs to support yourself, but barely made enough to get by. Shortly after you turned 32, you eventually decided that you needed a fresh start, packed your bags and hit the road.
After hitchhiking for over a month, you found yourself in Miami, Florida. You were walking through the streets of South Beach as night began 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 nearby ocean. 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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