Alias: Triste
Race: Human-Spanish
Gender: Male
Age: 34 [looks like he's 17]
Physical-
Hair: Reddish brown
Eyes: Soft brown
Height: 6" 1"
Skills/superpowers: Triste can slow time. He has no power over moving time forward or backward. His body also runs at a slower time than normal people's, allowing him to function regularly in a slowed moment and making him age slower than everyone around him. Also, after an accident in the lab, his left arm was replaced with a high-tech metal arm. His left arm is extremely powerful and contains an energy cannon capable of anhilating a building.
Short history: Alejandro's parents died when he was a baby and he was placed in a government-run orphanage. The government 'adopted' him and used him for experiments. One day they were testing different kinds of acids and the human body's tolerance level of them. Alejandro's left arm was almost completely burned away by the acids and the scientists then saw the opportunity to create Renaldor's first cyborg. They designed a replacement arm for him and put it on him. They continued doing experiments with him and Alejandro went through more atrocities than Hitler could have ever dreamed of. One experiment went awry and the scientist thought him to be dead. They got rid of him, but Alejandro was still alive. He left that place without looking back, renaming himself Triste.* Several years after that, despite his wanderings, he found that he hadn't aged a day since he had left the scientists. He also discovered his ability to slow time. But Triste did not use his newfound powers to get back at the scientists. He merely continued to wander the planet, searching for what he had lost--a family.
*Triste is "sad" in Spanish
Past Story:
The cackle was what drew Triste's attention. He turned into the barnyard to find a boy tormenting a young kitten. The cat mewed pitifully, barely struggling in the boy's hands. Triste's brown eyes hardened.
"Put the kitten down gently," he said.
The boy looked up, hardly believing his eyes. The order had come in a soft and mellow voice from a weak-looking teen in a stupid cloak that covered his left arm.
"Get off my property!" the kid snarled.
Triste's brown eyes took on a reddish tint.
"I said please stop hurting the cat," he repeated, his accent heavily Spanish.
The boy stood to his feet, dangling the kitten in front of him as he sneered, "Or what??"
Triste whirled the left side of his cloak back, powering up his cannon and pointing it at the boy. The kid's eyes widened and he dropped the kitten, running for the relative safety of his house. Triste caught the kitten before it hit the ground and cradled it softly in his palm, stroking it lightly with a metallic finger. The kitten winced and Triste quickly drew back his finger, hiding his left arm beneath his cloak. He comforted it in Sanish, the words flowing softly from his lips. He tucked the kitten into the hood of his cloak and left the yard, continuing on to the city in the distance. A smile lit his brown eyes as he heard the kitten yawn and felt it curl up in the soft fabric.