>> PERSONALITY

Azriel tends to not hold himself to particularly serious standards, having been in this life too much to care about the silly manual he was handed when he first signed up, instead, he takes life as it comes. A man of great passion, of great conviction, he does not regret the life he has led or the things he has done. Perhaps at first there was doubt, but such things were quickly dissuaded when the true face of the enemy was revealed in full. Part of him wishes they could of done more, sooner. Millions dead. Millions that could have been saved. Is there a tinge of sadness behind his eyes? Perhaps. Yet if it were not him, it would of been someone else who had to bear the responsibility he took on. He had a purpose. Has a purpose. He couldn't imagine himself as anything else.

>> HISTORY

The early life of Azriel was one of poverty, destitution and discrimination. Born in Germany during the height of the Weimar Republic into a Jewish family, life was never particularly easy. His mother was a nurse at a hospital in the city of Bonn, his father a worker at the local printing press. With the onset of the Great Depression they lost everything to the tides of the market. Their house was taken from them by debtors, and they were forced onto the street. Things did not get better with the dawning of a new decade as Adolf Hitler came to power in 1933, first as Chancellor, then as Fuhrer, and his anti-Semitic ranting followed by his edicts targeted Azriel's family specifically. His father, a smart man, elected to save what little they could every week to put aside as a collection, an emergency fund. Such as it was.

It would be needed.

In 1935, the Nuremburg Laws came into affect. The Altman's became stateless. Their rights taken away from them in one swift stroke. His father disappeared, never to be seen again. It is theorized that the printing presses he had once worked at were used to print communist papers. In any event, the young Azriel remembered the plan, and followed through with it. Booking passage by ship from Hamburg, to London, to New York. It cost them every mark they had, the bribes increasing exponentially the sooner they got to freedom, yet they did it.

In New York, he was greeted with yet more poverty. An illegal alien in a diverse center of multiculturalism. Other Jewish families, however, quickly took them in, and a sense of community was established. He learned English, and settled into a job at an antiques store, selling old watches.

As time marched on, and the war came to the US, he did not hesitate in enlisting. A mix of patriotism for the nation that had taken him in, and vengeance, spurred his decision. Much to his mothers chagrin. Every cent he earned was sent back home to her.

In the early months of 1942, a proposition came his way from the upper brass. His exceptional service having gotten their attention. It required him to disappear and become part of something greater. Something secret. It quickly became so.

Officially, Azriel Altman fell in the Pacific on a transport vessel.

No doubt his mother wept.

Whatever was done to him by the scientists, he could not say, all he knew was that daily injections became the norm as a concoction of chemicals almost caused his death with every passing hour. Miraculously he emerged alive. He emerged greater. His eyes could detect the slightest movement, angle calculation became second nature. It was exceptional.

By the end of the war, he felt helpless. Without purpose. Without a life to go back to. He spent close to a decade wandering from place to place, aimless. When the idea of stasis came up, it was not really something he could refuse.