Mark was born in a small industrial town. The only real job around was at the car factory, and like his father before him he left school at 15 to start work there. That didn't last too long, though; by the time he was 20, the factory was teetering on the edge of closure. The bosses were essentially holding the worker's payroll hostage to keep them from complaining or causing too much trouble as their jobs were shipped overseas. Mark decided to do something about it. With a bolt cutter and some heavy gloves to climb over the barbed wire, he broke into the factory. Sneaking to the offices, he snatched up the payroll, and also stole as many computers as he could carry to his truck. These were pawned, the cash added to the back pay and then distributed to the workers' doors in anonymous brown envelopes.

Unfortunately, Mark hadn't taken the hidden security cameras into account, and he was arrested within 24 hours. He was sentenced to seven years for burglary. Prison was tough, but so was he; he joined a gang for protection, hit the weight room, had his fair share of scuffles. Finally released to a grubby halfway house, his parole officer Carl Carter found him a job at some cafe, although he skims off the top of Mark's pay.

Mark is a big man, his body shaped by hard work on the assembly line and hard living in prison. He stands 6'4” tall, broad shouldered and ripped. His hands are large and like his muscular forearms they are covered in fine scars and scratches from the jagged metal of the factory. Sandy blond hair sweeps raggedly around his face, with a darker scruff of beard along his strong jaw. His light brown eyes are hard and cynical, but there is a trace of sadness,of vulnerability about them.