<div class="floatleft">(http://i247.photobucket.com/albums/gg157/onilobo/ODST_Sniper_by_Gazas.jpg)</div><strong> Gunnery Sergeant "Sling" Desmond Rockwell</strong><br/><br/>Desmond Rockwell made his way slowly towards the briefing room, the Texas born native joined up before he was even born or so his father told the tail as he had been moving from world to world, ship to ship since his dad's days back in Texas with his pregnant mother. Truth was he was born on a ship in deep space but like hell that would show up on his birth certificate. Now a man of twenty-five and on his own, he followed his parents foot steps and became a marine and one hell of a good one. He was the epitome of the ODST, patriotic, loyal, deadly and most of all a little psychotic.<br/><br/>The dark haired, green eyed marine (When his helmet was off) walked, his armor was a literal portable armory. Strapped to his hips he held his babies from the very first threats of the Covenant, the dual M6D Magnum Sidearms with zoom-scope slung at his hips. Across his chest he had four M6G Magnums lining his chest in case he need to swap out guns and did not have the time to reload. Resting on his shoulders he had mounted a pair of Maulers to draw if he was in need of more fire power and his true but (worthless) trophy was the unpowered energy blade he confiscated from an Elite who was lunging at him and was caught between the eyes with his quick draw.<br/><div class="floatright">(http://us.starcraft2.com/images/news/horner.jpg)</div><strong>"You boys can go home now, ODST is here" </strong><br/>The helmet's polarized visor went clear to reveal the stern look on his face he always kept across his features. Like all ODST, he hated waiting around for orders to go kick ass. His trigger fingers were already inching for a fight and he wanted to get an early start on his kill count.