UNITED STATES OF AMERICA |
Actor |
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P«MOSBY««HUBERT««A««USA««««« |
6USA8008090M190S0«FREELANCE STRATEGIC AND TACOPS PLANNER«« |
I was always a scrapper. I was hunting before the age of ten, and fought with my siblings and the neighbor boys as often as I got a chance. There wasn't any harm meant, it was just accepted that I loved a good throwdown and it was a great way to settle hash before it became something serious. My daddy was the local preacher, always teaching me that God wanted me to go out and save people, to cast down the wicked and protect the meek. Momma was a homemaker and tried to tone down Daddy's fiery rhetoric, but even if I didn't get the same crazy look in my eye as Daddy did when the Gospel came up, it was just accepted that I was a fighter. It made school hard, the amount of times I got suspended, no matter how often I explained to the teachers and the principal that honor was just too damn important to let me walk away from things. I could deal with things, but when someone else got picked on my fist was the first one flying…Momma called it a 'White Knight Complex'. Aside from the fighting, school was uneventful. School wasn't hard, I studied and got good marks, but I was never top of the class or nothing fancy like that.
You can see by now that justice was a big thing in my life. I wanted to join the Army the moment I understood what it was…even if my ancestor had fought against the Union, the military of the United States of America was the sword of freedom, God's instrument against all that was wrong in the world. When I was fourteen, I was already bird-dogging the local recruiter about when I could join up, when I could join up. He insisted that things weren't as glamorous as I thought they were, and I was unlikely to see an honest to goodness war the way they described it in the histories. Momma wouldn't hear of her boy being a soldier, and Daddy, well…lets just say for all of his talk of fiery justice I think he was more concerned with the Jewish couple down the street than overthrowing dictators. It was the cooling my heels waiting for an opportunity that would never come that made me left home. If I wanted to bring God's freedom to the world, I had to do it on my own terms. So I took the few hundred dollars that I had, walked out to the highway, and hitched a ride to the nearest international. No note, no clues, no nothin'. It was something I had to do, and I wouldn't be stopped. Maybe I was afraid that I would never have the nerve again, or even if I became a soldier I would never get the chance to do genuine good.
Don't ask me through I got airport security. But by the time anyone knew that I was gone (several days after) I was on my way to Egypt. Using what little money I had left, and trading work for food and lodging I made my way through Africa. It would not be until my seventeenth year that I saw my first battle, and not quite in the way I expected. I was staying with a farmer and his family in the Sudan, herding goats in exchange for the meager assistance they could provide a traveler. They were without a son, and the community accepted me as if I were a long lost brother. It was not until the Janjaweed attacked, on January 4th of my seventeenth year that I felt the fire again. I grabbed an aging AK-47 from the loft and went to stand with the men and women who hoped against all hope to go down fighting. They had horses, guns, jeeps…what hope did a poorly organized mob have? Yet in that dark place, I found God again. I admit then, back then I had no training. I had no reason to expect anything. And yet, my first shots connected. I gave a yell, a horrible and judgemental call from deep in my gut and against all sense yelled for the farmers to charge with me. Perhaps surprised by the sudden resistance, and not sure what to make of the crazed white boy leading them, they retreated, pursued by a laughable mob of peasants the whole way.
They came back again and again, but we sought about fortifying the community and repulsed the raiders many times. Others flowed into the town, victims of other raids and other militias. I finally left at the age of 19, with the farmsteads still standing and a definite sense of accomplishment. I always came back to Africa, but eventually I developed a reputation. Asia, the Middle East, Africa, the former Soviet Bloc…I always fought on the side of the little guy, as long as they could pay enough to get me there and a little extra for the fight to come after. By twenty-five, I knew how to wage a guerilla war on the fly, to train an army and take it to victory. I also learned who in an area could be trusted, who in the brotherhood of professional freedom fighters would come to our aid, and how best to put them to use. There were close calls, and I even lost a couple. Nearly bought in the Congo. The intelligence world seemed to leave me alone, believing me to be a force of nature that could rid the world of seeming untouchables.
I met Esther in 2007, though we had heard of each other through reputation a long time beforehand. She is important because she is the one who makes the money train keep chugging along, and makes all those donors and important political types bang the drum to keep me in business or left alone by the powers that be. Let me tell you, for an older woman, she's still got it…sharp as a tack, and kept in shape by a workout regimen I am convinced your run of the mill groundpounder couldn't pull off. It was the last time I was in the United States, to have a chat with a certain oil man who in his final years seemed determined to undo a local strongman he had put in power. Guilt is a powerful thing…but instead of the oilman I met Esther, and she made a believer out of me. I knew war, and I knew how to push, but with her magic touch I could request funds and resources I had never dreamed of. With the proper justification and a little patience I could turn backwater militias into God's own Judgement. All she asked was that I keep doing what I was doing, and don't do anything stupid to make her or her powerful friends worry that I was a bad investment. She naturally found some of my anti-big business tactics not to her preference, but we have trusted each other for three years and it is an alliance I can take to the bank. With the money and the doors she opened I could fight harder and commit greater acts than I had ever dreamed.
Its 2010. I've fought and bled for over two dozen causes. Sometimes it takes six months, sometimes it takes a year. But when you hire The Virginian, you'll get your freedom one way or the other. Count on it.
PERSONAL SENSE OF TIME
Hubert operates on Virginia Standard Time. While not quite as relaxed about the majority of things as those in the Deeper South, he is ungoverned by a sense of rush, punctuality, or any of the other afflictions that plague modern society and the spy game at large. Things will work out correctly if you don't hurry them along, people make mistakes when they become panicked, and when a good plan comes together a frantic escape or gun battle is seldom necessary. To some people, this may come across as the perspective of a backwoods Buddha or a Zen Master…to a lot of people its just plain irritating. Nonetheless, Hubert does see it as his sworn duty to progress at his own pace and eventually the world will be enlightened as to the correct (Read: Southern) way of doing things. So don't expect that mission brief on your desk by noon tomorrow, or demand his attention when a pitcher of sweet tea is singing its siren song. There are more important things in life, and when it gets done it will be perfect. So no need to fuss about it!
ETIQUETTE
While hospitality is a difficult thing to maintain on the road, Hubert does keep several of the habits instilled into him as a Southern Gentleman, or more accurately, a Good Old Boy. He goes out of his way to be accommodating (except when commanded to hurry), always saves the best portions of any meal or gift for someone else, does not swear or take the Lord's name in vain, and is unfailingly polite. Even to mortal enemies, he maintains an aura of affability and genuinely seems to believe that it is all some grand misunderstanding that would only be cleared up if they could sit down and talk about it. Bullets will still be exchanged but there is no need to be _rude_ about it!
EVANGELIST
Hubert is a born in the river Baptist. He isn't quite so fire and brimstone laden as his old preacher was (Daddy always did love talking about burning the sinners a little too much), and often prefers to let others believe what they will but when matters of faith come up he will stand up and be counted. He trusts in Jesus implicitly to take care of himself and his men, has never drawn blood on a Sunday, and will often hold prayer meetings if time allots. He is tolerant of other religions (He thinks its all the same God anyway) but he reserves a special contempt for atheists. Believing in the wrong thing, thats one thing, thats still belief, but you ain't nothing if you don't believe in something.
Skilled Personnel Location and Assessment
It takes a special kind of mind to put together a legendary squad from scratch. To find the individuals who have the skills you need, that won't crack under pressure and know how to follow orders. This is essentially a highly specialized form of networking and hiring that Hubert has mastered over the years of freedom fighting. Professional freedom fighters recognize each other often by sight, by the exchange of noms de guerre, or applicant or prospective recruit will subtly demonstrate his knowledge or skill in a way that indicates they are the sought after individual. When there is a specific mission objective to be achieved, or there is no time or resources to train the local populace this skill will often be what is used to get the men needed.
Teaching, AKA Hubert's School Of Fightin' Dirty
Some missions take more time. A resistance group has its heart in the right place, but lacks either the skills, the resources, or the leadership to take the fight to the enemy. When Hubert has more time, suffers a setback, or the local talent pool is insufficient, he trains it home. While lacking formal training, his life in the backwoods of Virginia combined with globe-trotting across the globe and performing a variety of functions has given Hubert a skillbase enviable by professionals twice his age. He cannot create a professional standing army overnight, but given sufficient time and resources he can transform a ragtag irregular band into a fearsome paramilitary organization: a feat that many cannot achieve, and that the majority take a much longer to accomplish. Survival skills, guerilla tactics, firearm and hand to hand combat, and the ability to assess the level of importance of political and military tactics are things Hubert can teach.
Logistics AKA Yes, It CAN run on Peanut Oil
Supplies are anything but a sure thing. When the government is against you, the local corrupt developer suddenly becomes very interested in arms sales in the region, or its just hell in a teacup to supply troops in the jungle or deep desert, supply lines can be strained. Since an army marches on food, oil, and bullets, Hubert has had to learn the arts of the logistician. This allows him to ration his forces far more effectively than most commanders, and to scrounge up supplies using either good old fashioned improvisation or locating 'unorthodox' sources of goods. He also knows how to properly conceal and protect supply caches to insure that his forces can remain in the field longer and retain their effectiveness. In more than one instance this has been the difference between victory and defeat.
Close Quarters Combat
Though lacking formal study in martial arts, Hubert has a backwoods brawler understanding of hand to hand and melee combat. He fights quick and dirty, and while he will try to incapacitate where possible, he may kill for expediency. While probably not the equal of a dedicated martial artist or special forces level training, it is reliably enough to overcome those who are unprepared or lack a vigorous CQC background.
Marskmanship
Hunting in the Virginia backwoods as a child. Fighting on the battlefields and in the secret wars of a dozen countries. Turning sincere but green peasant farmers into crack marksmen. These things have made Hubert a deadly combatant at range, particularly when targets must be taken out at extreme range or quietly. In operations where he must play a direct hand he will often support as a designated marksman or sniper. Throwing knives, bows, and firearms of all types fall under this category.
Setting traps and improvised explosives, ambushes, assaults on material and personnel of the enemy army….only to fade into the shadows. Assassination, sabotage, and surgical strikes both in the field and in the cities of the oppressive regime. Hubert has improvised his way through fifteen years of war, and idolizes men such as Robert The Bruce, Francis Marrion, and his ancestor John Singleton Mosby. This skill encompasses the fieldwork and unconventional warfare Hubert has conducted to make a mockery of superior forces. By himself, he is a formidable nuisance…but when he imparts these skills to others he is the harbinger of a highly mobile and fluid force.
Esther Rhodes
An infamous socialite who has run her way through seven husbands (Each more wealthy than the last). Her money and social connections bring her extensive pull in Washington, and her support of Hubert's campaigns have often prevented US intervention on the side of Hubert's opponents, or provided clandestine support in the form of funds and equipment. A firm born-again Christian and Reagan Conservative, she supports Hubert as a force of freedom and democracy when the Democrats increasingly cannot be relied upon to wage wars of 'moral imperative'. Through well placed campaign contributions, social capital, and discreet use of 'charm' (she is an attractive woman, even though she is in her early 50's), she has a formidable influence over any member of Congress who finds themselves in need of money or afraid of an evangelical or pro-military electorate.
Dumb Luck
On more than one occasion, the odds suggested Hubert just shouldn't have gotten out alive, or escaped from an enemy or pulled victory out of the fire. It seems the worse the probability, the likelihood and scope of an event to save Hubert's ass will manifest. Whether it is faith, destiny, or some kind of unquantifiable luck of the draw, it seems to manifest to cancel out good luck. It won't make a good situation any better, and its not supernatural…there are just some things even being a lucky son of a gun won't fix. Being chased by attack helicopters trying to mow you down with machine guns for example!
Rebel Yell
Okay, so its not really a holler or a yelp at all. Hubert inspires those around him both through his absolute confidence in the righteousness of the cause and the certainty of victory. They will face superior forces and commit to tactics that they would balk at under most commanders. Similarly, the sheer fervor can undermine the morale of an opposing enemy. Only someone trained not to crack under such circumstances will be able to operate at full effectiveness.
War Chest
Through the actions of Esther and several other genuinely concerned individuals determined to spread freedom across the globe, Hubert has access to several accounts that can range in the hundreds of thousands to the millions. The largest account, kept under a psuedonym of 'Mr. Edgar Messiah' contains 25 million. These funds are no questions asked to be used at the discretion of the Virginian, though abuse of these funds may lead to the resources not being available in quite the same level. Due to Hubert's skill and history, many backers further expect that he will be able to improvise on the fly, further reducing the operational budget that can be used without rendering offense. Under normal circumstances and without extenuating conditions, the most that can be withdrawn is 5 million. Common uses are the payment of fellow professional freedom fighters, furnishing arms and equipment, and bribery of corrupt officials, but exact usage can change depending on the operation.
Uncle Still Likes Me
Though having no formal loyalty to any clandestine or military organization of the United States, Hubert has avoided engaging the forces of his homeland, and has often acted as a proxy to dispose of unsavory leaders. This has lead to a kind of salutary neglect particularly on the part of the CIA and NSA. They will not actively aid Hubert, but they do not classify him as a threat and often encourage assets to be cooperative.
LACK OF EDUCATION
Book Learnin'. Its something Hubert never really got around to. While naturally intelligent, he never graduated high school or a secondary education and so he is suboptimal in anything that might require a great deal of academic study to know or execute. This has largely meant that his training has been ad hoc at best, and practiced under live-fire conditions at worst. This forces him to find experts to contribute to the team, and has slowed his rate of study significantly. Given his profession and constant mobility, it is also unlikely that he will get his GED or be able to attend a secondary institution. He is also constantly underestimated by those in the know or who might have need of his talents…which would be an advantage except that a backwoods hick with limited book learning can often get passed over for jobs and opportunities. Even at the age of 30 he still has to prove he is the better or equal of those with more education.
OLD GLORY
The next victory must always be grander than the next one, for the ghosts of the past are watching. Hubert firmly believes this, and it colors every operation he plans. Each victory must be more grand and spectacular in its scope, and with each battle a new challenge once thought impossible must be shattered. Capturing scores of men without firing a shot, ending battles in hours rather than days or weeks, and conquering impossible challenges of logistics or environment or human endurance. It may have served him well thus far, but this need for glory and achievement will put himself and those put his command at increasing risk. This is not vanity: he has a rather modest opinion of itself, but the desire to distinguish himself in his chosen profession in such a way that he cannot be forgotten even if the papers will always laud someone else.
BIG ENEMIES AND BIGGER GUNS
One man's freedom fighter is another man's impediment to progress. Any enemy left standing is almost always of great power, wealth, and influence. Often these are corporations that have have either supported dictators or attempted to relocate a local population without their consent. Even as wily as he is, Hubert would quickly find himself marginalized and outgunned if he makes a mistake in dealing with such individuals and their proxies. This leaves him both constantly on the run and limits his options. More than one 'shootout' in the press has been Hubert escaping from hired guns or assassins. And then, there are the bureaucratic headaches that can be caused when the local government is in the pocket of that big developer who wanted to build his villa on that poor indigenous village….before you blew it up and told him not to do it again.
ITS STUPID HOW LUCKY HE IS. MAKES YOU WANNA PUNCH HIM
He's stupid lucky. This upsets people the more they come into contact with it, or the more implausible the situation. While one would argue it has kept him alive, it doesn't make it any easier for even close friends to deal with the fact that the Universe seems to watch over Hubert a little more closely.
KEEPIN' UP WITH THE MOSBY'S
Though he has essentially dropped off the radar, Hubert still has a family. His mother and father still live in the same town, even though his younger siblings have long since moved out and gone to college. Those who did sufficient digging would not find this information without difficulty, and a threat to them would provoke as immediate a response as possible. This would be a singleminded pursuit of vengeance, and not subject to his usual level of tactical prowess. This could get him in untold trouble with the law, future employers, and leave them further exposed barring extreme relocation measures. And then, there is explaining to the folks exactly where you have been the past fifteen years…
RP Hooks
The Money: Esther and her circle of friends are the unspoken social and financial muscle of the evangelical and conservative right. Even in a democratic congress they influence the political and covert machine through honeyed words, veiled promises of support, and sometimes a good old fashioned whipping out of the checkbook.
The Guns: Fellow freedom fighters, they are a cut above the rest. These are the mercenaries WITH a cause. Got a project in the works? Want to join the crusade for freedom and liberty?
The Opposition: Hubert's got a legendary reputation for causing trouble. Warlords, corporations, local strongmen…if you haven't had a visit from Hubert you should expect one. Perhaps a preemptive strike is in order?
Soundtrack
Smashing Pumpkins "Bullet With Butterfly Wings"
Taj Mahal "Follow the Drinking Gourd"
Mormon Tabernacle Choir "Battle Hymn of the Republic"
Kansas "Carry On My Wayward Son"