Name: Anton G'iscard - "L'étincelle" or "Spark"
Gender: Male
Age: 30
Appearance: 
Anton stands about 182cm tall, or as the dreaded British would call it, "about 6 feet and an inch", making him an easy person to spot in crowds or fields alike. His frame isn't as bulky as he'd like, making him look a bit thin and lanky. He sprouts a moustache, finenly trimmed while the rest of his face is shaved. His hair, light brown in colour, is kept shortly cut, always slicked back in the approriate fashion.
Personality: Anton is outwardly behaving like a man of honour; outmost and unshakeable honour. Both from his childhood upbringing and the tradiation of the French military, Anton does his outmost to respect the conduct of honourable acts and gestures, towards friend and foe. Even if said honourable acts include taking decisions that'll hurt those he care for, because of unwritten rules and expected norms. It bears on him, this pull between doing what's honourable, right, and best.
It doesn't mean that he's heartless. Oh no, certainly not! What would any proper Frenchmen be without his passion? His love or anger? His joy and sorrow? Oh no, Anton his not free of petty emotions, especially not around those -and sometimes what - he truly loves and cares for. Friends, wine, traitors and the German invaders, name it all! As a soldier he obeys honour and follows orders. As a man, and a friend, he follows his feelings. An odd mix, though he's but a man.
Background history: Anton was born and raised on the farm his family owned on the French countryside, a short walk outside of the city of Saint-Quentin, north-eastern France. His father worked the fields around their home for his whole life, sparing little time for Anton and his siblings except for their time working in the fields and teaching Anton how to repair the family tractor. His mother, working time on and off in the city itself as a maid, was the beacon of love, friendship, patriotism and learning for him. It was she who persuaded Anton's father to allow him to attend the catholic school, thankfully giving him a decent education.
This was of course AFTER the Great War had ended. At the age of 2, the whole G'iscard family fled their home as the German armies of Kaiser Wilhelm lounged through Belgium and towards their home; the whole of Northern France was filled with refugees fleeing the onslaught. They did not return until 1918 when the war was over, but the farm didn't become what it used to be until much longer. The fields were unsuitable for farming; craters, steel fragments of bombs, undetonated mines, and the rotting corpses. It when at that point Anton, now 6 years old, knew he loathed the Germans for their cruely. He would never allow such acts of barbarism to befall his family again, even if he didn't know what he would become. After all, he was simply 6 years old, and not many at that age knew what the world war truly like.
At first he wanted to become like his father, taking over the farm and growing the land around their home like his ancestors had done long before. He wasn't the eldest son, however. That honour had befallen his older brother, Filipe, so he ventured into the world he knew he had certain skills in; mechanical engineering. Of course there were difference between a simple tractor's motor and the very intricate engine of a Dewoitine D.500 V12-Engine, though for Anton he miraculously always seemed to get a hold of it.
One of the places where engineers and mechanics were needed, was the French Air Force. The re-militarization of the Rhineland and warmongering rhetoric coming from Berlin convinced Paris that mobilizing the French military was not just the best answer; it was the only way to evade the same fate befallen on the country in 1914. Anton was given a job as an aircraft-mechanic, maintaining and repairing the planes of pilots he came to idolize and envy. He even made friends amongst the pilots, who let him join their flights at occation and even going as far as letting him fly a little himself - of course never alone, a mere mechanic was never expected to handle a plane like that.
It came as a surprise to everyone, even Anton himself, that he soon proved himself a competent pilot. Not truly knowing how himself, he was recommended for pilot-training. He passed with good marks, joining the ranks of those proud men willing and ready to defend France from the skies! And it would soon prove vital, as news quickly reached the whole world that Poland had been invaded.
Two days later, France was at war.
The skirmishes Anton partook in during those first months of the war were tense, but not particularly noteworthy. He managed to score a few kills in his beloved M.S.406 fighter plane, named "Marie", barely escaping death himself by a razor's edge unexplainably. It came even closer to his demise during his last flight in 1940. Flying to intercept an expected German bomber-attack, the squadron was surprised by the sudden appearance of a thunderstorm coming straight towards them. Anton was the last plane to turn away from the incoming storm, but in doing so was hit by a stray lightning.
But he didn't die. The plane kept flying by some miracle, even if the insides of the plane were almost glowing hot and all sorts of alarms going; even Anton himself felt as if he was being torn to pieces by the lightning, but he was still alive. And the plane kept flying. The new orders from their superiors were to change course south and land in French Algerie. When they landed, news came through that France had surrendered; they were to drop their weapons - the little weaponry that pilots carried on them - and be interned for the moment. What was Anton supposed to do? Refuse?
And so Anton was locked up for half a year in an Algerian internment camp, awaiting his fate at the hands of the Vichy-French authorities. When those 6 months had passed, he was offered to rejoin the French Airforce and serve the Vichy-government in protecting the French coloninal empire. He agreed.
It didn't take long, however, for him to "get lost during mission" and land on a British airbase. His pleas for fighting against the Nazis fell on deaf ears, however, as he was seen as a possible spy, and promptly sent to a POW-camp in Canada.
Now it was 1942. The world is still tearing itself apart. The German war-machine is steamrolling the Soviet Union, while the British Empire battles the fascists in Northern Africa and the American giant awakens from its slumber. And Anton is offered his freedom and the possiblities to fight for France's freedom. But he's not offered to fly with the Free French Air Force. Oh no, other parts of the Allied war-effort wants Anton for themselves.
Superpower and how the character got it: Anton has the remarkable powers of controlling energy; more specific one could talk of electricity and static inside and around him. His main usage of these powers are him seemingly shooting bolts of lighting out of his very palms, ranging from small fizzingly tickles to electrocuting those unfortunate to be hit. Though a less violet use of his powers, one that he enjoys much more, is his potential in manipulating machinery and electronics. He is, for example, able to start and controll - to a certain extent - a vehicle without being near it. Sometimes even enhancing the machine's potential in power and speed, though he prefers doing this with aircrafts.
As to where and when he discovered this, long story short; he had always felt a connection to modern machinery, electricty and the like, enjoying the small sparks one gets touching a lamp or a metal bar. Without knowing why, he was indeed the very person one'd ask to see what was wrong with the tractor's engine back home, to which he easily fixed. The full extent of his powers, however, he didn't learn of until being hit by lighning during an interception-mission in 1940. Instead of dying a horrible death in a fried-up airplane several kilometers above ground, Anton felt himself able to regain control of his fighter plane and land safely. As he himself explained, it felt like he was in control of the whole aircraft, even when it was in no condition to continue flying.
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