Born May 11, 1986, Ryan Michael Davis is a good ol' boy born and raised in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.
Named for his grandfather and father respectively, Ryan is a Marine from a long line of Marines, and a troublemaker from a trouble-making clan. His three greatest loves in life are the Three B's: Bikes, Booze, and Brotherhood. You can substitute "brotherhood" for another "booze" in a pinch. A metal-head, liquor-hound, and adrenaline junkie, he's got a history of legal trouble that dates back to his teens.
Like his fathers before him, the day Ryan turned 18 he enlisted in the United States Marine Corps. Three months of training and a stint at SOI saw him taking up the mantle of the 0311 Infantry Rifleman. He was attached to Third Battalion, Fifth Marines, "Dark Horse", and deployed to Iraq a few months after hitting the fleet. He hit the sandbox just in time for Operation Phantom Fury and cut his teeth in the house-to-house, street-to-street brawl that was Fallujah.
Four years, two more deployments, and two Purple Hearts later and he was still a motivated, dedicated Lance Corporal, his anti-authority attitude and penchant for heavy drinking ensuring that he never had a prayer of making Corporal. Six months after reenlisting he caught yet another DUI, his fifth since his career began. Coupled with a charge for assaulting a police officer, it was enough to net him an Other Than Honorable discharge and the loss of his benefits. Like father, like son.
Ryan returned home to the Rockies and immediately fell back in with his old crowd. A few more years of fast living, a handful of new charges, and some big debts to the wrong people got him thinking about a fresh start. At the urging of his father he packed his bags and headed west.
Now, on the streets of Los Santos, he's back to his old tricks. The women are gorgeous, the booze is cheap, and there's plenty of trouble to be had.
Identifying Physical Characteristics:
Ryan walks with a slight but detectable limp, courtesy of a Taliban bullet that fractured his left femur on his third deployment.
His right arm and face are peppered with small shrapnel scars he received in Fallujah when an RPG blew through the wall of a building he and his squad were clearing. His goggles saved his eyes, but couldn't do much for his mug. He isn't ugly, but he won't quite pass as pretty, either. "Rugged" is his preferred adjective.
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