Greg McDuff

"What ze fuck? I came here for ***BEER*** damn it!" - Greg McDuff upon being asked to accompany an officer to the station.

Greg McDuff is a European citizen who, through a series of accidents and chance encounters, ended up in Northern Atlas (which Greg still knew as Canada) right as Atlas Forces began arresting European citizens in response to a spy being arrested in a nearby military base.

## History

### Youth

McDuff was known for getting overly physical in his youth, a fact quickly scrutinized when it came to his high grades. McDuff was often being told to be less energetic. Greg, however, took this as a challenge. It didn't take long for him to start rubbing the wrong people the wrong way, either in bars or on the street.

### Parentage

Greg's mother Rosalie (Rosie) Evans is a veteran of the African war, having served in the JIA. She parlayed with the EU, trading information for her safety. She then moved to Germany, chose to stay there and then chose to pursue a career in the automobile industry.

Greg's father Hamlet (Hammy) McDuff was originally a German citizen, he met Rosalie when he was sent in to repair one of the machines in a automobile facility. He later went on to travel to Atlas to join the The Uprising, in hopes to bring order to a broken country. He did so leaving behind a pregnant and angry Rosalie.

Rosalie later urged Greg not to follow his father's stupidity and focus on improving himself rather than worrying about problems in other countries.

## Civilian Experimentation

Greg McDuff was one of the first German Citizens to volunteer for the experimental Civilian-grade Vanguard augmentation. While Greg regularly operated an exo-suit for his day job, he heard the call and answered.

After undergoing the main surgery inserting the restricted augmentation within his arms and torso, Greg's immediate question was:

"That was fun, mind if I go grab a pint?"

This was not taken well. It was insisted that he remain sober for at least 6 months after the full procedure was completed. Greg did not like this. He wanted to drink, it hid the pain.

Mid-way thought his 5th Stein, Greg had a thought. He could improve the implants far beyond what it was thought they could achieve. Heading home and downing a hard drink, he set to work. 6 hours later and a lot of blood-loss later, he had augments the top pilots would be jealous of.

## ATLAS

### The First Accident And Then Another

McDuff travelled to Canada in the year 2039, not having processed that it was now part of Atlas. Upon arrival, McDuff was dumbstruck when he saw the large letters adorned upon a large banner overhead reading "Welcome To Atlas!" Doing one of the things he does best, McDuff went for a drink. He was immediately confronted by an officer once he had gotten his first drink. When being asked to leave the bar, McDuff held up his index finger and began chugging the drink. The officer waited patiently while McDuff finished his drink and went to put the glass down. What the officer was not expecting however, was McDuff to use the glass as makeshift club, and to make a break for it.

### Atlas Pub Crawl

Now on the run, McDuff fled south, hoping to get to Mexico and get a flight back out the EU from a location where he was not wanted. What the police expected was him to get a vehicle and make a bee-line. They were *not* expecting him to walk down main roads and stop at every pub he could for a pint.

One individual McDuff remembers clearly was when he was still traversing the cold planes of 'Canada'. He had the opportunity to share a pint (or seven) with a rather large man who called himself Noah. Noah gave Greg the sage words of advice, 'Fuck Atlas'. Which he took to heart wholeheartedly.

Experts believe that this is why McDuff made it half-way down Atlas with only minor skirmishes every few days. This only escalated when McDuff chanced upon a claymore affixed to the wall of a bar. Of course, a fight broke out. It only took the police a few minutes to find the sword lodged into a armored van, McDuff laughing manically nearby. He seemingly became quite attached to the weapon, coming under small arms fire to retrieve it.

Greg had a brief run-in with a strange man on his trip. The moron was standing still in a crowded street as several explosions rung out in the near vicinity. Greg ran up, crash-tackling the man out of the way of falling debrie, shouted in his ear "RUN" before bolting himself.

Another individual he encountered on his glorious path was a man named Michael Crow, who had stopped by on his way home from a rather stressful shift. Crow instantly recognized the goliath of a man as soon as he entered the pub, but chose not to cause a scene immediately, having heard the almost legendary tale of his journey. Almost sensing the stress, Greg offered the man giving him a hard glare a beer, having no-fucking-clue who this man was. The night that followed is still told of to this day by the pub's regulars and the staff, but neither man involved would have the faintest idea why, only that it was ***outstanding***. Crow enjoyed himself so much, he gave Greg a 24 hour grace period before he began his vicious manhunt of the German.

Unsurprisingly, Greg was in a bar 24 hours later. The few patrons in the bar all knew who was casually strolled up and asked for 'the good stuff'. When Greg went to leave, he flung open the door, revealing the cold steel face of an Iron Angel. Without his expression changing, Greg slowly closed the door, backing away. He then quietly asked the barkeep if he could leave out the back, 'his ex was out front'. She was not an ex, that's for sure.

Greg knew as he dashed out into the rainy afternoon, that shit was about to get real. He knew he was close to the border, but if he could make it before he was caught was a different question. Now Greg was actively trying to avoid being noticed. A difficult feat while being over 6ft with a claymore slung over your shoulder. Night falls, and Greg should make the wise decision to stay in a quiet corner of an alleyway. He chose to visit a bar, classic Greg. Three drinks in, there was a knock at the door. The bar went silent. Greg stood up, nodded to the bar, and opened the door. He immediately recognized who was standing there, letting out a cry of excitement that quickly twisted to fear from the Iron Angel standing directly behind him.

*"AYYYY!! ITZ ZE BIRrrrrd maaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnn...... shit."*

He slowly closed the door in Crow's face. He pointed towards the back door and the barkeep nodded. Flinging open the door revealed the same Iron Angel that stood behind Crow, having anticipated his course of action. Greg then promptly threw himself out a window.

Greg ran. He knew he had a miniscule chance of making it out, but he was more than willing to make that bet. He knew that the Iron Angels are a merciless force, and he would be damned if he was forgotten as 'just another deviant'. So he ran, pulling on everything he had in reserve. He made it to the Mexican border in 1 & 1/2 hours. He wasted no time in leaping the rusted fence that divided the two nations.

Greg trekked towards the nearest town, almost pleading to a god, any god, to let him leave this god-forsaken country. Whatever answered had different plans, as the town was flying Atlas flags. Greg finally made a smart decision and stuck to the alleyways. It didn't help him, as he turned from the entrance to escape patrolling Atlas Security Forces, Crow snuck up behind him and king hit him.

### Capture

McDuff was 'found' unconscious not far from the Mexico-Texas State border by the Mexican Wing of the Atlas Security Force. It is known that he was knocked out by Michael Crow himself, although McDuff himself unable to recall.

While McDuff was not a prevalent terrorist, he was still a nuisance to Atlas that gave some wrong ideas to the right people.

## Drunken Ramblings

"This is why you don't fuck with those above your level."

"Enjoy the trip home!" - Said to a descending enemy.