Ruckus Thompson was born in Brooklyn, New York on October 22nd, 1998. Passionate for helping people from a young age, but being unable to afford proper medical training, he set a goal to memorize combat medic techniques by the time he was 18. On December 13, 2016, Ruckus, now 18 years old, having completed his goal, volunteered for a so-called “outreach mission” for the people of Chernarus. This would include putting his medical “training” to the test, by helping people injured in the fighting in the country. Even after the “outreach mission” now revealed to be more of a “black market medical operation” was completed, Ruckus stayed in Chernarus, moving through the country on foot, helping anyone who needed his assistance.
He continued on his own personal mission for 2 years, before coming across a child who was fatally wounded by some sort of improvised explosive, resulting in a perforated spleen that he overlooked due to his lack of formal training. Ruckus couldn’t save the child, and fell into a crippling depression, feeling unworthy to call himself a medic. He proceeded to ditch the majority of his gear in a random alleyway, saving just a few bandages, stitching kits, alcohol swabs, and his backpack, and walked off, vowing never to return to being a medic.
In 2020, he heard screaming. Not the happy screaming that one commonly heard from children, but actual blood curdling screams of terror. He ran out the door of the shed he’d been sleeping in for weeks, and was met with the bone-chilling sight of human-shaped monsters, relentlessly attacking civilians. His instincts kicked in and, on a reflex that hadn’t been used for 2 or 3 months, Ruckus grabbed his backpack, and the little medical supplies that he had, and blindly rushed into the fray. It wasn’t long before he was completely overwhelmed and realized he couldn’t handle this mess alone. He wasn’t a trained medic, he was a kid who just read some books. He stubbornly pushed this though from his head and steeled himself. Adrenaline controlling his movements, he rushed from person to person, providing them with any aid that he could. If their needs were out of his hands, he made peace with just being able to get them off of the street.
Studying the patterns of their hellish migration, Ruckus realized that the creatures were coming from the north. If he could move south quickly enough, he could provide medical care as the attacks took place. He plotted his movements so that he would wind up inside Prigorodki, a small town on the coast.
He set off, starting in Severograd, helping people as he moved further south. His fears came to fruition in Dubrovka, when he realized that he was not outrunning the creatures movement like he had been planning.
Weeks later, Finally, he reached the shores of the country. He stopped and gathered his composure just outside of Chenorgorsk, it was a large city, and he didn’t know what kind of hell would be awaiting him there. He walked through the city, remarking to himself on how “dead it seems.” He wandered around, until finding the docks, where people were alive, and working on the freighters. They were leaving that night it appeared, and he arrived just in time.
That night, he was loaded up with all the other survivors, and left, listening to gunfire and explosions from behind them. For the first time, Ruckus exited the trance-like state he had been in and realized that he was terrified. He was alone. He had no friends left in the country from his mission as far as he knew. Through the next three days, he had consistent panic attacks, and existential crises, not knowing if he would make it through the evacuation. He didn’t want to die, but… we all die someday right?
These consistent breakdowns warped his sense of friendship and relationships. Seeing people die around him through the recent weeks, and seeing the heartbreak of their significant others, or their families made him realize that something romantic is pointless. Friendship doesn’t last long either, everybody dies eventually, and everyone’s just waiting.
Now, Ruckus is on the island. He still feels alone, but he has met up with some people that he worked with for a while in Chernarus. Zachiriah Harden, a hunter, and Donny Jackson, an ex-arms dealer. He trusts these two men, and they give him the space he needs. As long as he can do his duty as a medic, and save as many people as possible so they can fight another day, postponing their death, giving them more time, he can deal with the numbness.
Ruckus is broken, but he can fix other people.
FeaturesScar on left cheek, commonly covered by a mask; burn marks up left arm
EquipmentMedical Backpack, necklace with a ring on it, civilian clothing
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