NAME: Arlo Grant GENDER: Male, he/him DATE OF BIRTH: August 31st (35) PLACE OF BIRTH: Iron River, GA NEIGHBORHOOD: Riverside OCCUPATION: Carpenter | Shadow Ranger, Pilot, Special Ops on leave | Singer FACE CLAIM: Garrett Hedlund
                     BIOGRAPHY
trigger warning: ptsd, alcohol, abuse, teen pregnancy
Before Arlo could walk or crawl he could sing. Sure they were babbles of a baby but he was able to harmonize with his mother. A diner waitress who had given birth to him when she was no more than sixteen. A child herself. It would be ages before Arlo could track down, or even find out who his father was, who his father is. His mother (despite her young age) gave Arlo everything he could ever want and need. A safe home with so much love. She worked hard to put food on the table and continued night classes. Through everything; in First grade the little boy watched from bleachers as she graduated from college, as a neo natal nurse. Of course his grandma sat beside him cheering her on with the same amount of pride and joy he himself held for his mother. They were peas in a pod. Sheâd sing while heâd strum on a guitar or play the piano. Their household always full of music and laughter.
That was until he watched that light flicker out when she began dating a man who was no good for her, and an even worse father. Echos of screams, tears, and sobs lulled the now teenager to sleep. Where once they were tears of laughter and joy life had gone out in the Grant household. It was then Arlo found his words as a song writer. Putting pain onto paper as his grades slipped, lower, plummeting to where he wouldnât bother attending school at all. He wasnât at school, and he wasnât home. He was somewhere in between. Not that he tried to get into trouble but there were no places for him to grow, to learn, to get what he needed. At sixteen now, mirroring the same year his mother gave him life the young man had been on his third stint in juvy and loved the taste of alcohol. Often spending time at his grandmothers. She tried her best to get him back in line for a long time he wanted to walk the straight and narrow. But with his motherâs tears imprinted upon his crystal blue eyes it made his own light dim.
Arlo wouldnât graduate on time. Heâd graduate a bit late, but high school hadnât been easy. He was well liked, but not a jock, not a nerd, he was a quiet kid earning him one of those mysterious looks ones that people either stayed away from, or looked to fix. It was on his graduation day where he finally watched the man who had broken his mother carted off by cops never to be heard from again. Song and laughter returned to the Grant home. Arlo picked up the pieces to a life that needed meaning. He was adrift and more than anything he wanted to make his mom proud. Unfortunately with the grades heâd accumulated and the few splotches on his juvenile record it didnât prepare the shy of twenty year old. Thatâs when he enlisted.
The easiest part was basic training. Not too far from home in Georgia Grant became known for pushing himself, and looking after others. His smooth southern accent serenading the rest of the cadets as they wrote letters home, or cleaned their bunks in the evening. During the day he led call and responses keeping morale up and always thinking of making his mother proud. What he didnât know was that he already had made her proud. Back home in North Carolina she boasted about her sonâs accommodations and recommendations. Visits with the governor, congressmen and women. Grant carved a name for himself as a black hawk pilot running classified missions and becoming a pillar of ethos and morality. That was until the helo was shot down during a mission in Ecuador. His status MIA. Surviving with only his knowledge from basic for twentyfour days. The bullet hole in his shoulder keeping him from repairing the helo. All the while wanting to get home. He remembered chatter from that night that it would no longer be a search and rescue mission. It was a retrieval mission.
Then there were the drug lords. Arlo didnât talk about his capture when he returned. He didnât sleep in his bed when he returned. He didnât pass his psych evaluation when he returned. Once again Arlo Grant was adrift. Captain Arlo Grant found his way back home. A small one bedroom cabin near the water and his golden retriever, Sheppard, at his side accompanied the Army Captain to and from his shifts at a small dive bar pouring drinks and playing his guitar for anyone who would listen.
                 CHARACTER TRAITS
( + ) empathetic, humorous, creative ( - ) withdrawn, irrational, addictive
