Daxon Miller

Out of Armor

In Armor

## Physical Appearance

At 244lb, with a height of 6'7", Daxon is a well sized Spartan outside his suit. He walks with a large chest, shoulders rolled back to over emphasize the true size of his chest and body. He walks with a slight, barely noticeable limp in his right leg. This the result of an accident involving a misplaced grenade during combat training. His handshake causes even Spartans from time to time to take a moment to appreciate the intense strength behind his grasp.

He has unique eyes, a blue ring around the outside and a yellow ring around the inner part of the retina giving him the appearance of green eyes. His hair is a dirty blonde in which he keeps clean and neat, nothing longer than a few centimeters and no facial hair. Nothing irregular about his face, an even rugged looking appearance that some would find attractive. Arms and legs are most men's point of emphasis when it comes to build and Daxon is no different. He has a long 7'0" wing span with arms that look like the front end of a python. His legs massive tree trunk like appendages extending from his torso. One could tell, though he may prefer to stay at a distance, he could most certainly handle himself when it came to close quarter combat (CQC) situations.

## **Personality**

Daxon is typically a quiet and series individual when it comes to business. His business, death with incredible precision. He doesn't say anything unless it needs to be said and hates more than anything to need to repeat himself. He would rather watch and listen, preferably from a distance if possible. On the battlefield, he is more than willing to watch and wait as long as it takes, even days if need be, to eliminate his target given. In light of his time on the battlefield he has an uneasiness about him. This uneasiness feeds his desire for precision and is why he prefers to watch and listen from a distance especially if he can get up high for an overview. It fits his comfort zone to be on overwatch.

Daxon has a rough temperament stemming from his german heritage but he hates more than anything to lose his temper and concentration, valuing control of himself almost as much as he does getting his target. In consequence of his need to be in control he at times has trouble with simply taking and following orders as they are given, instead opting to find the most effective and precise way to complete a task if possible. Above all else, he values his ability to kill regardless of the circumstance regarding the difficulty of the kill. It doesn't matter the condition of weather, environment of the battlefield, nor distance from which he must operate, if you have a problem, you can count on him. His eyes when in his helmet constantly move, a habit formed while on the battlefield out of need to always make sure his back is covered. While his helmet is off he'll hold any gaze but only as a front. He knows it's not about what he sees that'll kill him but what he can't see that might get him.

## **Bio**

Daxon was born on 04/07/2534 in the state of Arizona of the United States of America. His family genealogy tracing back in majority to deep rooted Germanic heritage. He spent his childhood training in various athletics as his family though not wealthy by any standard was well off enough to help him pursue any passion he saw fit. This training is where his need for precision started and began to blossom. In his early teens, he showed great promise in athletics. It's also where he got his nickname "Houston". It came from the old saying "Houston, we have a problem". If ever you had a problem that needed precision and attention, you knew he would be there to clean up the mess and help you out. With a fire and passion that burned brighter than the stars, he worked tirelessly to mold himself into the perfect, finely tuned athletic instrument. However, as time pushed he began to notice an interesting tingling in his arm. A feeling he would never forget and come to regret not paying more heed to when it first started.

At 16 years old, he would learn the hardest lesson of his life, a lesson that would motivate him to never let anything go unpolished in his drive to eventually become the perfect killing machine. He in one of his athletic sports was pitching one day, nothing out of the ordinary when suddenly he felt a pop in his elbow and a sharp pain that immediately emanated upward into his arm and his shoulder. 1 month and 1 surgery later and his athletic career was done. Tommy John surgery wasn't always a career ending surgery but because Daxon had ignored it, the damage done was far too severe to ever fully recover from. This didn't end his desire for precision though. He always had a backup plan in case his world turned upside down and from the looks of things it most certainly just had. The UNSC.

Finally, he was 18. He had spent every day since his surgery preparing for this day. He was still going to live a life with meaning and what better way to do that then by serving the people through the marine corp. He loved his people and for years now the covenant were destroying everything humanity had slaved to build in the last few hundred years. Not only that but the stories coming in on the news each night of the newest incredible inhuman acts being performed by the Spartans were an inspiration for all to strive for more. He knew it was unlikely but if there was a chance, he knew he had to be ready.

Daxon had an aunt whom was a Colonel in the UNSC already. His aunt was no ordinary Colonel though. She was the officer in charge of advancement for both the Marine Corp and Navy in the UNSC This made him a bit of a target for the other recruits that trained with him in boot camp. This would only add fuel to his fire and pushed him even harder to prove himself worthy. It was a tough few months but his preparation from life experiences had been more than worth the hard work as he used them to rise to number 2 overall in his graduating class. With his exceptional scores upon graduating and his aunt pulling a few strings with her connections, he was recruited straight into ODST training. His recruiting officer told him how he was “going out on a huge limb by taking in a relatively inexperienced rookie, not to mention how it would reflect on (his) aunt should Daxon fail”, but that if Colonel Langley was recommending him she wouldn’t stick her neck out for a scrub, even if he was family. He knew how special this opportunity was and how few if any ever received such an invitation.

It was late 2552. He had started ODST training and had begun scout sniper training. He was the youngest in his recruited class which again made him a target for those who thought themselves better than him. Everything would change when the news was finally made public. Reach, the military stronghold, had been defeated and reportedly glassed by the Covenant. His training would be moved and finished on Earth for now. His time would come to show that his dedication to precision was not a waste. That the sacrifices made by his parents and his aunt were not for nothing.

He would complete his training on Earth while preparing for what everyone believed was now inevitable. October 20, he awoke from his rest not fully comprehending what he was being told. The Covenant, on Earth. You always dreaded the day it might happen but had never truly known what to think of what would happen when that day came. Regardless, today was the day he knew he would show his abilities not just to his squad, but commanding officers and the Covenant as well.

January 2556, he was now a hardened war veteran. The final days of the Human-Covenant war saw some of the fiercest fighting of the war. Not to mention the flood which had been unleashed. The fighting on Earth was intense but nothing Daxon hadn't expected and prepared for. The hundreds and even thousands of rounds he had fired through training, did their job and made him a precise killing machine. After the end of the war however his job wasn't done. He remained in active duty after the war. He did his part always completing his assignment or task at hand whatever it may have been. He had lost friends and even his younger brother whom enlisted after being inspired by him. He was approached by an Oni officer, someone he had never seen before and had a feeling he'd likely never want to see again. Spartans, a new class that was to be created stronger, faster, and more capable than ever before with far less drawback. This is what he had been preparing for since that fate filled surgery 6 years previously. He knew he was ready for what lie ahead.

His training didn't go as smooth as he would have preferred. Augmentation though apparently far less stressful than before was still incredibly painful. His right leg was nearly removed after a training accident went awry involving a fragmentation grenade being awkwardly thrown during their first training session after augmentation. It resulted in a nerve stimulator being inserted into his back after the ligaments had been reattached. The device would help keep him running smooth and as if nothing had happened. This nearly had him removed from the program before he could even get his new boots wet. Luckily the nerves had been left relatively undamaged by some miracle. The new armor had saved his leg and his career. As his training continued his skills grew and polished that much more intensely with that much more focus and precision that can only come from the guidance of an armor system like the Mjolnir armor. Now he was ready for his first assignment with his new HAZOP armor and abilities. His first posting as a Spartan would be the UNSC Acheron. He hadn’t heard of it before himself. It was apparently a Thermopylae Class Supercarrier which he thought was fitting being a spartan.