Marcus Tolar - Sniper
Recognized Military Experience: United States Navy
Rating and Rank: E-6, Petty Officer First Class
SKUL Serial Number: MT-81826-SO
Platoon: Whiskey
Team: Saber
Call Sign: Toad
"I'll take her," the little snot, Will Perkins, said as he leered past the little, scrawny black boy and chose the girl standing behind him. Perkins hated Marcus, for whatever reason, and Marcus knew it. But, Will was big for his age, and Marcus, well Marcus wasn't.
"Teams are locked," he sneered, then started back-peddling onto the court. "Hey, can't play with more than five on a team."
"I'll si..si...sit ooooover there," Marcus stuttered. He always stuttered when he was nervous or embarrassed. "I'll su, su, suuuub in." A tear rolled down his cheek as the others laughed in his face and began playing.
Marcus Tolar, born to Martha Tolar of Meridian, Mississippi, was the youngest of nine brothers and sisters. Martha worked hard to keep her children in clothes and give them what they needed to succeed in an unfair world. So hard, in fact, that at any given time the woman held three jobs and rarely got more than a couple of paltry hours of sleep a night. Her primary day job was as a cashier at one of the local pharmacies in Meridian. Mr. Plymoth, the owner of the pharmacy, was a nice man who allowed her children to come in and get a snack - On the house, he'd say fondly - before heading off to their chores, ball practice or after school activities. The first of every month, when the new comics were delivered, Mr. Plymoth would walk the isle of his book shelf with Marcus while keeping a stern eye on the child. Marcus might reach for a new Avengers comic and make Mr. Plymoth's eyes turn to slits.
He'd withdraw his hand as if he were stung, bringing a smile and a nod to Mr. Plymoth's face. The druggist would then bring out the newest X-men comic, or whatever the hot comic of the time might be, instead.
It was their thing, and Marcus loved the man for it.
FOR THE FULL STORY, click link: Marcus Tolar - Sniper
Rating and Rank: E-6, Petty Officer First Class
SKUL Serial Number: MT-81826-SO
Platoon: Whiskey
Team: Saber
Call Sign: Toad
"I'll take her," the little snot, Will Perkins, said as he leered past the little, scrawny black boy and chose the girl standing behind him. Perkins hated Marcus, for whatever reason, and Marcus knew it. But, Will was big for his age, and Marcus, well Marcus wasn't.
"Teams are locked," he sneered, then started back-peddling onto the court. "Hey, can't play with more than five on a team."
"I'll si..si...sit ooooover there," Marcus stuttered. He always stuttered when he was nervous or embarrassed. "I'll su, su, suuuub in." A tear rolled down his cheek as the others laughed in his face and began playing.
Marcus Tolar, born to Martha Tolar of Meridian, Mississippi, was the youngest of nine brothers and sisters. Martha worked hard to keep her children in clothes and give them what they needed to succeed in an unfair world. So hard, in fact, that at any given time the woman held three jobs and rarely got more than a couple of paltry hours of sleep a night. Her primary day job was as a cashier at one of the local pharmacies in Meridian. Mr. Plymoth, the owner of the pharmacy, was a nice man who allowed her children to come in and get a snack - On the house, he'd say fondly - before heading off to their chores, ball practice or after school activities. The first of every month, when the new comics were delivered, Mr. Plymoth would walk the isle of his book shelf with Marcus while keeping a stern eye on the child. Marcus might reach for a new Avengers comic and make Mr. Plymoth's eyes turn to slits.
He'd withdraw his hand as if he were stung, bringing a smile and a nod to Mr. Plymoth's face. The druggist would then bring out the newest X-men comic, or whatever the hot comic of the time might be, instead.
It was their thing, and Marcus loved the man for it.
FOR THE FULL STORY, click link: Marcus Tolar - Sniper
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