Malcolm West was not your conventional ODST. In fact, there were more than a few who felt he didn't deserve to be one. But the powers-that-be were desperately accepting any and all help in light of Earth's recent visitors, and Malcom's skill set, specifically his ferocity, fit the bill. Just like that he was pardoned of all charges, flown overseas to Africa, and assigned to lead a top tier special forces unit into the heart of the invading alien army.
Having grown up in the run-down ghettos of both the Oakley Park and 8th Street districts until the age of twenty-one, he never would have thought this is where his life would end up. Nor would he have imagined it at any point during his five year prison sentence for aggravated assault and battery.
Life's a trip.
He'd gained something of a reputation on the inside. Not intentionally; it always seemed to be on account of some misunderstanding to which he saw no other answer to solving than that of the 'hands on' variety. One instance in particular had launched him into notoriety.
Be it movies or advice or whatever, for one reason or another, new inmates had the habit of challenging the biggest, baddest guy on the yard. The mentality behind this of course was to make an example out of the 'head honcho', so that none of the 'lesser' inmates would even dream of taking them on. So there Malcolm is one day, minding his own business and doing arm curls with a set of dumbbells, when he sees a new inmate who walked off the bus just the day before messing with Big Mike.
Big Mike worked in the kitchen and was a friend of Malcolm's practically from day one. He had sort of an eating problem, and although he was indeed scarily huge, the guy was just a big teddy bear. He was in for simple tax evasion, a non-violent crime, and was a bible man. He often prepared genuine and extensively researched sermons to preach to the downtrodden Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings, loved joking around, and usually shared with those in need if he had something to give. He was prepared to turn the other cheek in the name of peace, and had before.
So when the new inmate suddenly hauled off and punched Big Mike in the nose, Malcolm decided to eradicate the situation in the way he saw most logical. By setting the dumbbells down, getting up, walking over, and proceeding to beat the living shit out of the new guy. A couple other older members from the inmate's gang were holding off at first, but decided after a moment that things were starting to get obscene and stepped in to try and help. They didn't expect to be handled just as easily. Or as brutally.
Malcolm wasn't exactly the cheek turning type. It was one of the calmest things he'd ever done, but then, that was how he'd always been. Nearly every street fight he'd been in involved him calmly taking action. But up until that point, none of the other prisoners had actually seen him get violent, only hearsay about his past. The whole ordeal got him three months in the hole and earned him a name among the guards and other prisoners in his absence.
So when the UNSC showed up one day offering freedom for service, his name was one of the few that were unanimously recommended as possible trouble for the Covenant. His name, however, was the only one that was transferred to a certain list of actually sought after individuals upon his evaluations. Whilst other prisoners who'd went out of their way to brand themselves not-to-be-fucked-wtih like Carrot and Tiny and Mack Mo all went onto fight in the main branches of the army, Malcolm was to join a special forces branch called the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers.
The 'shock trooper' part he thought he'd be able to handle. It was the cryptic 'orbital drop' part that gave him unsettling expectations. And yes, it turned out to be as bad as he thought it would. He splashed ice cold water in his face and stared at himself hard in the bathroom mirror. Was he ready for this? At the moment, they were hovering miles above New Mombasa and the biggest spacecraft he had ever seen in his entire life.
The only thing that could make his task seem even more daunting was the possibility of being on fire. Which, something the recruiter who'd signed him up, said could actually happen since he'd be dropping from so high up. Then again, Malcolm didn't think the recruiter really approved of his free pass from the justice system and joining the fight for humanity (one of countless others he would encounter during the tedious process), and may have just been being an ass. Either way, Malcolm knew it was starting to get to him. He'd not only traded his will to kill for freedom from incarceration, but quite possibly his life as well. He could burn out in the atmosphere before he even reached the carrier.
One thing he knew for sure, was that if he got both feet on solid ground and a gun in his hands, he'd be a monster. It was just his entrance that left his survival entirely up to chance. Dropping this train of thought, he dried his face and hands on a towel and went out to greet his team. Judging by the red flashing lights on the walls, it was just about time to drop when he walked in and saw them all huddled around a holographic display of the target hovering over the city.
"Aight ya'll," he called out to them. "Let's do what we do."
ray id: php-master