Vasili

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Page name: Vasili [Exported view] [RSS]

2009-05-28 03:48:51

Last author: Erubeus
Owner: Erubeus

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_{Name:

Vasili Kebin(Intro)

Age:

24

Description:

Fairly original is what he would be described as during his time period, though what is classified as original anymore?

Standing at a sturdy height of six foot even and a weight of one hundred and thirty-five pounds, most doctors would place him on the left of the T-chart where ‘underweight’ is written as the title. No, nothing is wrong with him; he just chooses to ignore his stomach, favoring his duty over his physical needs and aches. So, needless to say, his muscles are lean and are easily hidden by clothing, not to say he has overly prominent abdominal muscles or defined back muscles; They are just worked enough so that slight rifts can be seen, outlining those muscles under his skin. Speaking of skin, his happens to be just a shade lighter than olive-toned, it being a pale-peach color; what adds to his beauty, so he hears, is the fact that his skin is as soft as a babe’s bottom. He could be described as blemish free, but that would not necessarily truthful, being as his body is scared and tattooed, having gotten such a way with the assistance of his ‘job’.

Hair is raven black, curly, and reaches to his knees easily. He usually keeps his hair in a secure braid, leaving only his bangs out to cover his facial features further securing nobody recognized him easily, also simply to fiddle with said hair when bored or in deep thought. Those features that are covered by his bangs are a set of confident cerulean blue eyes, thin lips, a narrow nose, high cheek bones and the soft angles of his face. The only thing that he tends not to like about his features is the unsightly scar just on the underside of his jaw which leads down his neck to his collar bone. Received, courtesy of his master and Boss for disobeying orders upon just joining the family.

Tattoos brand his back, playing out his accomplishments and triumphs throughout his time in the family, and he even fared having one placed just over his heart. Though, the one he pays most attention to and worries about being found the most is the one on the soft skin of the bottom of his foot, the word ‘Sasha’, his Master’s old lover’s name whom he supposedly reminded him of what with his personality and his long hair.

Weapons:

He tends to use his mind as a weapon, torturing his victim with the possibilities of what he would do to them before killing them. Other than that, just about anything that could cause physical pain. Vasili is not picky.

Abilities:

Able to pry into another’s mind to find out all of their dirty little secrets and fears, using those facts to help torture his victims to receive the answers he so desperately needed. Also, during high moon, Midnight, his conscious recedes to the dark recesses of his mind and he gains the vigor and rambunctious attributes of an over stimulated Rodeo Bull or angered Oxen; Feeling no pain in this current state, either. This is when he tends to do his duty to his Boss or to do his duty to his Master.

History:

Born with a weak heart, it was only natural that he officially died for a minute in a nurse’s arms as she was cleaning him up, but he was quickly brought back by the doctor assigned to delivering him. Vasili’s mother died during birth, and his father was never around, so he knew neither of them as he grew up. The only thing he knew about either of them was that they were arrested soon before he was conceived, paid out by an unknown source.

He was placed in an adoption agency after finding out that the child had no family whatsoever, no one to take him after he was decided to have a relatively stable heart. His first five years were spent as any orphan child in an agency; He was a manageable child, his black ringlets and happy, innocent ceruleans making him the perfect candidate to be adopted out. But, he never was. He was recommended every time a potential couple came along to adopt, but he was never chosen to be adopted. And it confused him as to why. It only became clear to him when some of the other kids began to make fun of him and call out that nobody wanted a ‘Stinkin’ European Slum Rat’ as a child. Yes, he was born in the capital, Moscow, and was sent to Siberia, that being the closest city at the time that had an orphanage with available space. He, being the only European child there was always subjugated to being abused and picked on, ridiculed even by some of the caretakers at the adoption agency.

One day, yet another couple came in to pick out a child they wished to adopt. Once again, Vasili was recommended. The only difference was, he was actually chosen by one of the men instead of simply over looked. It was, quite literally, the happiest day of his life… Until a caretaker took them aside and began to feed them lies, no doubt trying to save their status among the city. Not even the low class families would be caught with such a boy digging through their trash. And promptly after their ‘chat’, the couple left without a further look around or a last glance at the boy. Teased especially so by a couple of the boys that day, he finally broke down crying for the first time since he was not but a babe. Those tears must have enticed them so, for the next thing he knew, he was being dragged upstairs, kicking and sobbing for them to let him go, but to no avail.

Taking the boy into the room and shutting and locking the door behind them, they held the boy down and stripped him from the bottom down and promptly raped him, one after the other, than their little leader going once more just to further his embarrassment and shame. Finished, they left the boy to the room, walking out and leaving the door open for the older and younger boys to look at as they passed. And after having laid like that until the head of the house came, tears long since stopped and face holding that straight and emotionless expression on it, he decided that he was going to leave that damned orphanage. What was the point of staying? No one was going to adopt him, and he would not stop getting picked on by anybody. The only person that had ever showed any type of affection for him was the person that agreed to take him in, the master of the tiny orphanage, Miss. Kebin.

And so he did just two days later.

He was never one to be messed with after escaping. Growing up on the streets and in that orphanage just gave him that sort of hardness that only his soon-to-be ‘employer’ would find attractive and worthy of notability. But, let’s not get ahead of ourselves’, ne?

Instead of staying in the Asian part of Russia, his journey took him to his home town, Moscow. But, the trek was a long and hard one. Having no protective clothing save for that to which he had stolen from the orphanage, and having no knowledge as to how to survive on the streets. It’s only natural to say that he went without food for few days before he found a dead animal just lying out in the streets or in the alleys between buildings. Sure, not an elegant way to live, but it suited him just fine. He didn’t mess with anybody, and everybody leaved him the hell alone!

One night, while trying his damnedest to outrun a pack of wild huskies through the city he was currently in, he pulled his hamstring and fell to the ice and snow covered street. Needless to say, upon awakening, he was pretty messed up. But, anyways, upon passing out from the pain of being ripped apart by the demon hounds, never once crying out, he was oblivious to the group of people that had decided to come out of hiding upon seeing the child being mauled and ripped open by the pooches, fighting the mongrel off before they could get anymore damage done to the lad of about fourteen. After they were fought off, the grown folk and their children decided it would be a good idea to take the young wanderer into their ‘family’ for the time being. At least until healthy.

Upon awakening, Vasili felt a sharp pain in his side, and instinctively he flinched away from it and held a hand over the exposed flesh to keep the pain away. But that didn’t help. Instead, it made it worse. So much so that he let loose a pathetic whimper and removed his hand from the large wound. The first thing he heard after that was a subtle, ‘Now, now, Little One. You mustn’t go and touch that any. It’s bound to hurt.’

He healed over the next few months after that attack, having rested in that one room of the other hobos’ house with the eldest female’s say so. Even when he just tried to get up he was forced back into bed by the woman. When it finally was time for him to get going he found it hard to, that having been his only family ever. But alas, he had not reached his hometown, and when he promised himself he would go to Moscow, he knew he would never break it for anything. Bidding the family farewell proved to be the hardest thing he would ever have to do in his whole life.

Not long after that, the wandering lad reached the end of his journey, stepping foot in Moscow proudly. He was so pleased with himself for fulfilling that promise that he couldn’t help the smile that came to his face.. His first smile in his home.

Next few years passed uneventful, without a hitch. Same ole’ life, same ole’ routine of scavenging and finding places to hide from the weather.

Suddenly, things began to change after his sixteenth birthday on the eight of November, 1975. He began to notice people following him wherever he went, eyes falling on him with fear then turning away quickly so as not to present a threat, he even began to see a specific Black 1958 Buick out of his peripheral vision always parked around the corner, though the windows and windshield were tinted so he could not make out whom was watching him. After a few days he became accustomed to the routine of the footsteps behind him, the car light in his peripheral, the shifting of eyes; Find it would stress him out too much to try to find out why all this was going on. Though, one day while he was thinking over the possibilities of why the sudden explosion of attention happened, walking down the marketplace as he was going to lift a few food items, he was approached from behind by those same men that had been following him that whole day, grabbed by both biceps firmly to keep him from escaping their grasps with his wrists locked in their firm holds. He was quickly ushered off to the waiting black Buick, as once again the peoples’ eyes were turned away, and thrust into the back seat, followed by one of the men as the door was shut by the other.

When they were a few minutes into their ride through the cluttered streets of Moscow, Vasili finally spoke up to the man seated across form him, serious ceruleans betraying the turmoil and fear in his stomach. He asked whom the older man was, why he was being abducted so, and why he had been the source of their entertainment for the past week, only receiving a glance and an amused smile in return. Okay, he wasn’t going to answer his questions. That was for sure. Turning away to look out car window and watch the passing buildings was all he had to do for fun for a whole hour before the car finally stopped and pulled into a building’s underground garage. Once in, he was removed from the car by the man who had been with a partner when he was captured and lead along behind the older gentleman into the inner sanctum of the building.

He spotted few people as he was lead up a set of stairs to the upper rooms of the building after the man, deep cerulean orbs picking off the expensive looking furniture and clothing worn and used by those same peoples, and subconsciously he began to cower away from them, using his arms as a shield in an attempt to keep his scruffy and stinking clothing out of their sight. When they finally reached the room the bodyguard, so to speak, left when so ordered, the older gentleman now ushering Vasili through the door. He went. The man took a seat across from him, fingers pressed together and eyes staring through the confused lad. Though, when he was explained to as to why he had been brought there he was more skeptic than confused.

He could not believe that this man across from him was his father, the same man that had abandoned both him and his mother, causing him to be sent off to Siberia and tortured for his first few years of life. He was so angry he couldn’t control his actions, and before he knew it he was atop the older man, swinging away at his guarded face, never making contact with anything other than his forearms, mind you, but still releasing his pent up anger for the past sixteen years of his life. Finished, he got off of his father and glared down at him as he got up, that arrogant smirk still on his face. He complied when he was told to sit, and he listened to the next words that were spoken.

Oleg Ivanov owned the building to which he sat in, and Oleg Ivanov owned the man to which he spoke with, Alek Lazutkin. This Oleg Ivanov character, he had heard of him few times out on the streets, having heard he was a type of bandit or thief. But, it seemed his low expectations of this man were far passed by the reality of the truth. This man owned many businesses he had seen once or twice while traveling the city streets, and everyone that was inside those buildings he owned. Holy hell. What kind of trouble was he in now.

The suddenly timid male expected to be killed on spot when he was introduced to the head honcho of the whole organization, having stolen few things form those certain business mentioned earlier, but instead he was pulled down into the man’s lap, his father leaving the two of them in peace. Offered a proposition he felt he could not refuse, join his organization and in turn become his pet once his father was deceased. What the hell, he thought. His sperm donor was still young, he would live for a long while more before he would be subjected to such punishment, in turn he would be off the streets, would be properly fed, and would no longer have to worry about being attacked by any animals or other people. He accepted.

The organization was recognized as a mafia in the 1980’s, or more precisely, on Vasili’s twenty-second birthday. And during that particular year, things drastically changed for him. During a job both he and his father were on, things went terribly wrong. The older man had over-calculated few determining factors of their ‘client’, namely the amount of fire power that he would have around him when they first met up with the man, Gregor Abelev. He lost his father that day, but he also completed the objective of their job; Kill Gregor, the ‘thieving son of a bitch that was milking money from his business’ as Oleg had so gracefully put it.

The news was given to his boss when he returned back to the building where he, himself, was stationed… Coincidentally it happened to be the elder man’s home, as well. Fancy that, eh? He remember their proposition well, so he did not fight it when the man first took him into his chambers, it being that same night, his new master seemingly pained by the news of his deceased pet which he took out on Vasili’s lithe body.

When his being the boss’ pet was formally announced he noticed a sudden change in others’ demeanors, their respect seemingly having risen for him. And thus, this is how he fit into the criminal organization known as a Mafia, titled Izmailovzkaya. The boss’ pet, and a star member all around. Perfectly calculating damn near every possibility and every job, not missing a single detail presented to him. Alone, he had already completed a total of one hundred and fifty jobs since his eighteenth year, and killed just under one hundred and thirty men single-handed. From rags to riches, quite literally.

Stone of Power:

The Garnet

Stone of Weakness:

The Diamond;; Makes him physically ache, causing every scar on his body to first burn as if acid were being poured onto him, then reopen, the pain of how the scar was originally left tearing through him all simultaneously so, sending him into a type of sensory overload that only leaves him curled up in the fetal position and shaking as he fights off the darkness bordering his vision.}

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