Mosul. He has been a badass far longer than that, in part because he is an early balder, and like any man who starts losing his hair before losing his virginity, he is pissed off at the world. He’s the type of guy you wish you could parachute into Berkeley to knock some sense into all those entitled assholes who think that no war is justified and that all cupcakes grow on vegan rainbows. Combine that with professional training in the dark arts of not giving a fuck, then stuff it inside a six-foot-two, 220-pound frame, and what you have is a turducken of maximum pain and minimum sensitivity.
