Santiago, Chile, April 2nd, Carlos Morreno is born from the blended DNA of a strong, compassionate trust fund baby of a mother and a charming, intelligent doctor of a father. Having been raised into middle class financial hardship was slim to none, fortunately for post-new dictatorship of their home country forced them to promptly relocate two years after Carlos' birth. They only hoped for a rekindling of societal tranquility and they found it in the United States. Twice as fortunate for this family Carlos got enrolled into only the best schools whilst his parents either maintained their current profession or obtained a new one. For his mother, it was being a police officer. Such a job suited her drive for justice, especially after the descendance of their home country. Life couldn't be better, but little did they know misfortune was on the horizon. 

Carlos was a few days away from turning eighteen when his world took an unexpectedly dark turn. Such as the average teenager did he lounged in the living room, eyes fixated on the television in front of him while he lazily munched on snack food as his mom got ready for work, chatting with him all the while. She probed him with questions like what he wanted for his birthday, what he favored for a special birthday dinner, if he considered throwing a party while his folks were out, if he met anyone he was particularly keen of, if he started looking for work or thinking about pursuing further education, the usual. Although his answers were borderline nonchalant, she still appreciated the feedback. She also knew the dangerous risks her job held with a part of her fearing every day and if it were going to be the last she spends with her son.

Shortly after reminding Carlos of his dad soon returning from his own job she bids him with a goodbye kiss to the top of his head. Such as most mothers she quickly adds that if Carlos finds himself in trouble beforehand that, in her words, he'll do the right thing.

Those would be the last words he hears from his mom.

Carlos was awaiting a chipper- albeit tired- persona from his dear ol'' dad when he walked through the door that evening. Though it was normal for one's occupation to drain their energy after a long, hard day, rarely did Carlos ever witness his father succumb to a noticeable state of anything that wasn't hopeful, optimistic, happy, walking with a positive foot first. It was almost admirable, however, this night were to be marked as the most painful time either of the men could have ever been forced to endure. Heavy feet trudged into the house, it the only sound falling upon Carlos ears aside from the teetering concern in his voice that called out to him. His dad's head hung worrisome low yet the son couldn't bring himself to move from the bottom of the stairs and into his father's vicinity, thus leaving the latter to approach Carlos instead. 

 

No words were said, at first, therefore being tightly hugged by your dad who is also uncharacteristically sobbing loud against your shoulder produced more questions than answers. In due time the reveal of a then tragic reality was spoken, and to Carlos it felt as if his heart fell right out of his chest. Just as his medical professional of a parent concluded his care with a previous patient he was immediately assigned another that got rushed into the emergency room. He's dealt with many a time before, however, nothing would have prepared him for this one: his own beloved wife, bloodied in uniform predominantly where her heart was located. Beyond his initial gut punch of a shockwave he let realization motivate him into saving her life from an obviously lethal injury done by a wanted and most notably armed criminal she was pursuing. He did all he could to help take away her pain and whilst he did so the ever doting mother of his child was already awaiting the end.

 

She, bearing a tight clutch on her rosary simultaneously as she put a forced stop on her frantic husband's hand, softly strained a message to her lover under their native tongue. She wasn't going to make it, yet her husband told her to stop talking crazy. Told her that she was going to be just fine. Then life left her eyes, and her body stilled. She was gone, and so was a piece of him. Entrusting their only remnant Carlos gets handed his late mother's rosary. " Always keep her close, amigo. " his father said above a solemn whisper, and through the next few years, where Carlos adopted the coping mechanism of hanging with a particularly dark and tough crowd of people his age, he did. Despite how much of a rebel he became. Twas essentially a phase, for after staring long at his deceased parent's rosary one day, her final words echoed inside his head. " You'll do the right thing. " 

 

And that thing was cleaning himself up, decades later being sent to a quaint small town called Wineport where, to the public, he would serve as a fellow advocate for justice, but in private becomes every criminal's worst nightmare. 

Blueberry muffins (and just about every other pastry), three shot espressos (claims he can't function without his fix), animals, taking walks and leisure drives, cozy clothing (when not on the job), crossword puzzles, cooking.

Others doubting him and/or undermining his capabilities, dishonesty, being interrupted, seeing those he cares about cry, injustice, onions.

Kind, playful, flirty, determined, headstrong, nosy, perfectionist

County sheriff by day and vigilante by night, smokes the occasional cigarette, secretly likes to sing in the shower, has tendencies to sleep in, drives a 1995 two door black/white Chevy Tahoe, lives alone, fluent in English and Spanish, had a troubled goth phase in his twenties, always has his deceased mother's rosary on his person; ritualistically placing a kiss to the cross every morning with his mom and prayers in mind, The Punisher is his favorite comic book character, carries a switchblade and wields a Sig Sauer P365-XL Comp pistol that he's respectively named ' Rose '.