"So, are there any questions?"
The Marine had come to Mac Taylor's high school to "let the young people know that such great opportunities are available"; in reality, he had been sent to recruit in advance. Mac didn't have any questions, but he was fascinated nonetheless. He liked the Marine's precise uniform, his impeccably shaved head and face, and his rigid posture. Most of all, Mac liked the Marine's pride. "I would be proud to wear that uniform too!" he thought. As soon as the Marine had stepped onto the assembly hall's stage, Mac knew that he was destined for the Marine Corps as soon as he graduated from college.
Mac was a loner. He had a 4.0 GPA, and would much rather conduct an experiment in the chemistry lab than go on a date. Truthfully, he could have his pick of almost any girl in Chicago, but he couldn't be bothered. He had saved enough money to buy a bass guitar, which he kept hidden under his bed. He played it in the wee hours of the morning, when his father was sure to be asleep; Lt. Taylor hated all music except Army bugle calls.
Although Mac was only a freshman when the Marine came to his school, he spent most of high school and college dreaming of what life would be like once he joined the Marine Corps. He couldn't wait to pass his medical exams and physical tests. Then he would move on to boot camp. Mac had always been one for strict order, and the military satisfied his need.
He was also impatient to move away from his broken home. His mother was severely depressed, and no amount of medications could prevent her violent and sudden mood swings. One minute she would dote on him for a perfect grade on a math test, and the next she would be screaming at him for not eating enough artichokes (Mac hated the things and secretly fed them to stray dogs). She left when Mac was 15, leaving him alone with his father. Lieutenant Taylor was a former army man himself, and although Mac needed strict order in his life, his father took that need to the extremes. If Mac wasn't downstairs by 7:15 and 30 seconds exactly, after having groomed himself in a precise fashion, he was condemned to 50 push-ups. Mac took comfort in the fact that his hard physical and mental labor in the Marine Corps was for a good cause, rather than just for his somewhat sadistic father's pleasure.
Mac was innately curious about how things worked and why people did things. Every time he had the opportunity to learn about forensic sciences, he leapt at the chance. He put his investigative skills to work, to discover that his father was abusive of his mother. He always tried to find out who took his muffin, or who decided to break into his locker at the gym. He decided that after he got out of the Marines, he would go and be a detective in some big city, maybe D.C. or New York. Anywhere but Chicago.