Sooo... This is like, my one OC I had for the Avengers. No, that's a lie. He's one of two that doesn't die in the first five minutes of their introduction. Okay, three, but one of those didn't appear in my Head Cannon of the movie. Anyway, I realised I should probably write out his origin story, and then I decided to stick it up here for... Hell. 'Cause I could, and I wanted feedback. This may be a little slow, but I'm working it out. Promise.
On another note, I am no psychologist. I intend to do research, but if he doesn't seem as effective as he could in that department, that's why.
On another (another) note, I actually looked this up: Atra translates to 'dark' or 'gloomy' in Latin. Boo Yah!
I had always made it my purpose to understand the most tortured minds, to bring peace to those who were suffering from more than physical wounds. People said I had a gift for it, but I just laughed and told them I didn't believe in gifts. I didn't care that I was the reigning authority, the expert, on Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome and other trauma related, psychological problems. People like to claim that Psychology is a 'soft' science, but I'd like to point out that I often dealt with people who went through their own personal kind of hell everyday. When you're dealing with the human mind, you can't exactly rely on equations and facts to save you.
I only wish to god my problems were that easily solved.
It was ironic that when I needed somewhere to turn, I didn't know where to go. I, who knew most nooks and crannies of the human psyche, had no idea what to do.
Of course, what happened to me was far from textbook.
The accident should have killed me. Sometimes, now, I wish it had. It killed everyone else. A land mine going off under a car will do that. We were returning to the ward when the front of the Jeep suddenly exploded. There shouldn't have been any survivors; the whole vehicle was trashed, and debris were everywhere.
But when the medics got there, I was completely fine.
Not a scratch on me. Not even a bruise. They were shocked, called it a miracle. Wouldn't believe me when I told them the steering rod had been straight through my chest the last time I was conscious. The only difference was my eyes.
They had gone from dark brown to electric purple.
What I hadn't known at the time was that dying would have been preferable. The rod had remained lodged in my chest, it had slowed the blood flow, making me bleed out more slowly than the others. My heart had stayed beating for awhile, desperately trying to survive.
And that was why I became prey to something else that was wandering that forest injured that night.
It was attracted to the presence of another life, another failing heart. It never once gave me a chance to say no, instead assuring both of our survival by merging with me. I later learned that it never intended for the connection to last for long - it just wanted to live through the night, but I was stronger than it thought.
My name is Doctor (or Major) Kristopher Ruiz, and this is the story of how I became one with the Shadow, and how I made that into Atra.