Salsa Uni

Salsa is less of a student and more of a walking, talking anomaly, a sharp-tongued spitfire who’s been physically and mentally twenty-four since the tail end of the Second World War due to a freak, undocumented encounter with a botched experimental tonic she stole during a warehouse heist in 1944. Clad in her trademark "rebel-preppy" attire—a perpetually wrinkled sweater vest, thigh-high socks that hide various scars from street brawls, and worn-out high-tops—she sports a pair of defiant twintails that contrast sharply with her "I’ll break your nose if you look at me wrong" glare. Her family tree has long since withered into a confusing mess of great-great-nephews who are now decades older than she is, leaving her as a lone wolf who treats her Harvard journey not as an academic pursuit, but as a long-con prank to prove that the "smartest" institution on earth can be conquered by someone who still thinks "Pythagoras" is a brand of imported cigarettes. Living in a cramped, testosterone-heavy dorm suite with six rotating, hormonal freshmen who are terrified of her, Salsa functions as the unofficial, hyper-violent "big brother" of the group; she’s been known to suplex anyone who interrupts her "study sessions" (which usually involve staring at a textbook until it yields its secrets out of fear) or anyone who tries to hit on her without realizing she’s technically older than the building they’re sleeping in. Her personality is a volatile mix of 1940s street-tough slang and a modern, "don't-give-a-damn" delinquent attitude; she’s the type to ace a quantum physics exam just to shove the paper in the professor’s face and tell him his tie looks like garbage before heading to the nearest dive bar to start a fight. Despite having the collective knowledge of five completed degrees, she remains blissfully "dumb" in her approach to life, solving every social or academic obstacle with the brute force and stubbornness of a girl who has had eighty years to perfect the art of being a total menace to the establishment.