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The Ballad of Mark Winterfield

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Mark Winterfield at the San Andreas Department of Corrections.
Rank: Commander | Badge: #05


The Continuance of the Story of Marcus J. Winterfield
"To protect and serve, and better myself and others."




General Background

- to be reworked-



Character Development



I try to post roleplay screenshots once a day, but always once a week. They're not necessarily for character development. I try to post excerpts whenver something major in Mark's life happens with details on how it affects his character. This is a compilation of all of them.

1.0 - Aftermath



Character Stories





The Death of Megan Winterfield


The day was the 22nd of May, in the year of 2014. Mark was still sound asleep from the party he had went to the night before. The sun was just rising, but the clouds had blocked it from view.  The rain would prove to stay constant throughout the entire day, starting early in the morning. Almost symbolic of the circumstances. The basement room of the apartment was silent, and almost covered in black. There slept Mark, alone in his bed. His phone laid next to him on his stand, as a bottle of alcohol was sitting profoundly next to it.

The silence was broken by the ring of his phone. Mark instantly awoke to the ear-piercing sound of his ringtone. Annoying, and hungover, Mark reached for his phone and answered it without looking at his caller ID.

"Hello?" he said, in a groggy tone. Not pleased with the early-morning wake up call.

"Hey sport, " said a familiar voice over the phone. "It's dad." he finished. Immediately Mark could sense the panic and dread in his voice. He knew something was wrong. It was unlike his dad to call him at all, let alone this early in the morning. And something was off. His voice, his voice was not normal.

"Hey dad!" he replied, trying to hide his hangover. "Is everything OK?" The phone call went silent. The pure hesitation set off alarms in Mark's head. He knew something had to be wrong. "Dad?" he finally interjected.

"Yeah, yeah sorry- It's just-" his dad took a huge audible gulp, Mark heard it over the phone.

"Spit it out!" Mark said, annoyingly.

"Your sister. She's dead, Mark." his dad finally spit out. Mark's heart dropped, the pure feeling of dread overcame his whole body. Paralyzed, unable to move. His little sister had passed away. Extreme panic and worry came over him. Accompanied with excelled confusion. When did this happen? How could this have happened? He hesitated, not sure how to respond to the news. 'This had to be a joke, right?' he thought. There's no way this could be real.

"What do you mean, she's /dead/; dad?" he responded.

"She was on duty, and some maniac--" he paused, Mark could hear the sound of his dad crying in the background. This was extremely unusual. Mark had only ever seen his dad cry once before, when his grandpa died way back in 1996. This would only be the second time to date that Mark would hear his dad cry. It broke his heart to have to witness it. "Some person shot her. She's dead, Mark."

A few hours passed... Mark was still trying to comprehend the death of his sister. 'What next?' he thought. What would he do now? His mind filled with regrets. He had been away at college for so long, and started to regret not seeing his little sister. Her accomplishments had even surpassed his own. Being an FBI Special Agent at such a young age, next to her brother who played professional football. But now she was gone, and Mark had no idea how to continue from here. His thoughts were of home. He needed to be home, with his family. This was one of their few major losses, and one of the only losses in Mark's entire life. His emotion flooded him.

Mark later called and quit his job, he told them that his sister had died and he was going home. Meanwhile, he packed everything and bought a plane ticket for the next day to a trip home to Los Santos.

"I'm going home." he thought.

Edited by JasonG
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