full name: viktoryia krawaczyĹska (fc: mia wasikowska)
birth date: 14th february
birth place: moscow, russia
sexual orientation: redactedÂ
eye color(s): left eye is a light hazel, right eye is a dark brown
hair color: dark brown / black / red streaks
hair length: varies. lets it grow to her hips before cutting it back to her shoulders
build: slender and slim but surprisingly muscular
scars: many. lots on her fingers and hands, large one between her breasts, small scar on her neck, scar from a bullet wound on her left shoulder
best traits of her personality: brave, bold, adapts easily, strong, consistent, loyal
worst traits of her personality: short temper, sharp, speaks without thinking sometimes
parents: unknown to her, two people killed by a crime ring who then raised her
occupation: freelance thief, spy, assassin, honeytrap
languages spoken: fluent : russian, english, french, italian, spanish, polish, romanian, dutch, swedish, limited : Greek, portuguese, mandarin
skills and hobbies: hand to hand combat, using guns/automatic weapons, using swords and knives, drawing, athletics, baking, ballet.
Taken from the parents that were tragically and brutally murdered, Vik was raised by Vernon and Izobel Krawaczynska, the man who was head of a top crime syndicate in Moscow and his wife who couldnât have her own children. Izobel gave the child a caring hand during these years before her husband took over the education and rearing of the girl who was clearly learning quickly. Some would remark how the child seemed to learn things incredibly fast, being able to read at an eerily young age.
He had Viktoryia taught by various tutors and his own men â they began with languages and basic endurance exercises, while also having her educated in normal âacademicâ subjects and allowing her one activity of her choosing. After seeing books with pictures of the Russian ballet, she chose that and she flourished in it, having a natural elegance thatâd become handy in her later years. She never had dreams of becoming a ballerina; it was all-too clear that girlish dreams like that were off the cards for her, even then.
On an unsuspecting Wednesday evening, Izobel died after an enemy of Vernon shot at them through the window of their home. This affected Viktoryia terribly, the girl now lost without the one sliver of warmth she had, but as Vernon became colder, so did she, throwing herself into her training and finally being allowed to learn to use guns and blades. If that was the only way to prove herself, to show him that she was worth his attention, then sheâd excel, sheâd be the best of the best.
Viktoryia was clearly becoming weapon-like, the men putting her through trials to see how she was coming along. Her new lessons were about accents and dialects, teaching her to speak as though she were native to whichever country they would be having her work in. The trials were tough, but Vik grit her teeth and got on with it, she fought better than most and her elegance that had played such a part in the ballet shone through here - she moved so gracefully, almost like she was performing the nutcracker, as she sliced up bags of sand and sometimes Vernonâs own men. It was after watching her get through three hours of being put through her paces that Vernon decided she was ready to truly show her worth.
They threw her into the work, sending her to various countries to work undercover at other criminal rings to find out their secrets and plans, then fed them back to her own group. She loved it, it gave her purpose, made her feel useful and she worked so hard not to let herself stray from concentrating on the work. But then of course, there was Anatoly.
Anatoly was dark, dangerous and had a smile that made her feel like the only woman in the world. He would whisper in her ear in the corridors and kiss her wrist when nobody was looking. She tried to not let him consume her, but he did. Sheâd do anything for him. She loved him.
When she returned from a dicey mission in Italy, she discovered that Vernon had been murdered horrifically and suddenly and nobody had thought to contact her, to bring her home to grieve. It made no sense to her, a random attack â surely his men ought to have been keeping guard? For once, since Izobel died, Vik wept. She sobbed and screamed and wailed and Anatoly was there to hold her to his chest, to kiss away her tears and make her feel whole again. He took up Vernonâs place and Vik supported him, sitting on his knee, killing for him, living for him.
Though it came crashing down - someoneâs lip was too loose and she soon found out that Anatoly had been the serpent whoâd killed the man she saw as a father, but upon confronting the viper, he convinced her it was for the greater good. And she sucked it up. Believed it. It was better than .. the truth made her wild. He thought he could keep the truth from her? Hide how power-hungry he had been, how heâd taken the opportunity to pounce while she - the only person who couldâve stopped him - was out of the country.
She killed eight men before ending up in his office. Left him for dead on the floor after making him beg, with a broken chain in hand and a bloody V carved into his cheek.
Viktoryia left Moscow. First, she took up residence in Paris, taking a few months to set herself up there and find a way to start making money with the only skills she knew how to utilise. She got her name out there in the same circles and began working once more. The money is good; the work is never ending. She is content. She lives wherever she needs to in various hotels and small apartments.Â
Though she canât help but feel like sheâs being watched.