#letale.intro

modern day cowboy

born in a veritable ghost town to an abusive father and a teenaged mother

ran away from home at 15; never completed high school or university

developed a knack for fighting / was often pushed into fights from a young age

traveled throughout most of the southwest while making a name for himself in the underground fighting rings

always used fighting as a means to an end (namely, to make money)

settled in las vegas for a few years

got picked up by the Lucchese mafia as the ‘muscle man’ for the Las Vegas division of their criminal organization 

inevitably, his time with the Luccheses came to a (forced) end and, after being set up, he served jail time

unbeknownst to him, he’d been on UMBRA’s radar for quite some time and it wasn’t until prison that he learned of their presence

a prom queen if you’ve ever met one, except with a lot more under her belt than being ‘popular’

born in munich, she lost both her parents when she was twelve years old and moved in with her aunt in wandsworth

let’s be honest, the transition didn’t take very well and there were several attempts to run away and multiple fights were had

she spoke english just fine despite the fact she lived in germany for a large part of her life due to the fact that her parents insisted on a rounded education and to give her easy access to different vocabularies and to be able to take over Huffmann Industries when she grew up

therefore, she knows german, english, french, polish, russian, czech, spanish, portuguese, dutch, danish, swedish, norwegian

if you could tell, romy has a lot more ease with germanic and slavic languages ; she also knows some mandarin and japanese and can understand it, but she struggled with it when she was younger and has likely lost most of her abilities in those languages

high school started out rough, but she found a passion for athletics and her popularity grew from there and amplified by her natural charm

in high school she did cheerleading, track, and soccer, but she played sports on the side as well

college was a bit more difficult: sure, she had an athletics scholarship, but she’d lost her support group, and most importantly, she wasn’t entirely sure what exactly she wanted to study

Born in London, England, Harry is the son to Adele and Joseph Robinson. They weren’t the parents a kid would dream of having, but they were the only ones he had. His mother, Adele worked for a temp agency, and was always bouncing between jobs. Sometimes the jobs came in frequently, other times it could be months before her agency picked up the phone and gave her a call. Joseph’s career hadn’t fared much better, mostly because he had never had one. Joseph Robinson was a below average man, he left school with below average GCSE’s and went on to work below average jobs. 

Harry can’t remember a time that his parents weren’t in debt — if it wasn’t loan sharks, friends and neighbours then it was the kind of people you didn’t want to be getting into bed with. The kind of people that claimed their debit in blood and violence if it couldn’t be paid, and it was often that Harry paid the price of his parents debts.

He’s got the scars to prove it.

Because of his parents debts and lack of care for their sons well being, it fell on Harry’s shoulders to keep their heads above water. He tried working paper rounds, weekend jobs but he was either fired for pinching from the tills or when they found out he was a lot younger than he originally said he was.

After a while Harry started to sneak into supermarkets after they had closed, filling a shopping basket with the bare essentials and a bottle of whiskey for the sleeping, homeless guy outside he convinced to be a distraction for him so he could make a quick getaway. It was never going to be enough for his family, however, they blew their money away quicker than they could count it. Soon enough Harry set his sights on bigger pay loads, instead of supplies it was cold, hard cash. Corner shops were easy to knock over, any teenage boy could get his hands on a balaclava and a baseball bat, it was jewellery stores that proved harder.

It wasn’t long before Harry found himself a crew, there wasn’t a shortage of teenagers and young adult men willing to aid a jewellery shop stick up for the right price. Before Harry knew it, he had a new family and they’d quickly climbed their way up from jewellery stores to banks. He had never forgotten about his parents though, he couldn’t, they rinsed him for every penny he owned every time he returned from a heist. It was their right as his parents, they had claimed, he owed them they would tell him.

Harry wasn’t sure he agreed, but he nodded along anyway, most of the time. On the times that Harry would stand up to his father, he would only knock him back down — mentally and physically. Harry had wished he’d had the courage to leave them many times, but they were his parents, his responsibility. That had been ingrained into his brain since he was old enough to ride the bus on his own, it wasn’t something he could shake off on a whim.

The real money didn’t start rolling in until Harry started hitting up the banks with his crew, and things with his parents and his crew were good for a few years. They were sitting comfortably on stacks of money, more than they could count and more than they could blow.

Like all good things in Harry’s life, however, it didn’t last long. On what was supposed to be the biggest score of his criminal career, Harry and his crew had been ambushed by the police. They’d been waiting for them, he’d evaded arrest many times, but this was the one time Harry wasn’t able to slip away from them.

The first time Harry had heard the word UMBRA muttered was from his lawyer, who he was certain wasn’t hired by his parents. They probably wouldn’t even notice he was gone until their money was all dried up.

>> :// VASILYEVA, A.: INTERVIEW

Tell us a bit about your past. Do you have a family? Where did you grow up?

               The room is cold, sterile. From the moment Anastasiya steps in the door, she knows it has been prepared for an interrogation of sorts, under the guise of an ‘evaluation’ in the wake of the Vice-Director’s assassination. The room is several degrees cooler than normal, but she’s prepared, dressed in layers. The agent waiting for her is older; he introduces himself as Smith, and she can see the burden of his years of service in the way he holds himself, his eyes darkened by the horrors he has witnessed. There is an absence of personal effects in the room ⏤ it’s not his, never was, never will be. This is a spare office, set up to facilitate this revolving door of agents. It’s more welcoming than the interrogation rooms a few floors down, but not by much.

Ana reclines in her seat. The information is on file, easily reviewed by any agent with the necessary clearance. She’s certain the man sat across from her has access. “I had a family,” she says plainly, assured that the senior agent will note her reference to them in the past tense. “My parents raised me and my siblings outside of St. Petersburg. It was… quaint. I had a brother and sister, and our childhood was normal, for the most part. My parents didn’t have a lot, but what they did have, they used to better our lives.” She gestures vaguely as if to conjure the memory of a childhood spent mending her brother’s hand-me-downs, fighting with her siblings over warm bath water, an extra helping of dinner. “My father was a coach. He wanted to raise champions, and so I followed my brother into sports. Roman trained to play ice hockey and I started figure skating lessons shortly before my fourth birthday. My sister followed me when she was old enough, with my secondhand skates.”

“I was fifteen when I qualified for the Olympic trials. I had my heart set on competing in America, but I placed just at the cut-off. My father was so disappointed, he didn’t speak to me for a week after. It was difficult. I felt like I shamed my family, but it motivated me to work even harder. I qualified four years later for the games in Turin, but… well, we both know how that went.” A phantom pain pulses in her ankle and radiates up her leg to her hips and spine. The photos used on newscasts and newspapers were grim: her small frame splayed on the ice, face red, the tendons visible in her neck as she screamed in agony.

The doctor’s assessment read like a garish shopping list of overuse and traumatic injuries: a fractured ankle, a torn meniscus, strained ligaments, multiple contusions. Her career was over. She was advised that she would never be able to skate competitively again, even with physical therapy. The tear in her knee could be helped with surgery, but it would never heal enough to handle the demand of the jumps in modern skating choreography. “I returned home with painkillers, shame and a broken dream. I never got my moment in the spotlight.”

What were you doing in your life before UMBRA reached out to you?

              Crimson lips curl in a smile at the question of her past life. “Before the injury, I really believed skating would be my life. I imagined myself competing, then maybe teaching. You see,” Ana says, leaning forward in her seat, “it’s not just about being a good skater. You have to look the part, too. Command the audience. Captivate them. There are hundreds of pairs of eyes on you when you’re hurling yourself across the ice in nothing more than nude tights and a dress fit for a doll. You’re exposed, which means the falls are harder. You’re judged for your smile, your posture, your choreography. Many athletes have been broken by the scrutiny.”

Figure skating requires everything: athleticism, dedication, grace, showmanship, poise, charisma. Ana knows this well; she’s carried the skills with her through her second career. “I think that’s what drew them to me at first,” she says with a light shrug. “I was still healing from my knee surgery when I was invited to a prestigious event that ended up being a recruitment ruse for the Sluzhba vneshney razvedki, the SVR, our foreign intelligence service. I had nothing left: no career options, no future in skating. My family was struggling after I lost my endorsements. So I said yes. I traded the skates for stilettos, and I gave my life to the service.”

Ana’s voice is even as she speaks of the clandestine program she was put through ⏤ part charm school, part reconnaissance training. As an asset, she was taught strategies to seduce a target. She studied languages, practiced social and cultural customs, and underwent self-defense and light combat training, which proved difficult at times with her injuries. “They stressed that we should never use violence unless absolutely necessary,” she adds, “to defend ourself or the Motherland.” Her education in handling interrogations not unlike this one is purposely omitted. To the senior agent, she will appear seemingly unaffected by the history she recounts, no matter how painful it sounds, because she is an expert in executing a facade. She’s learned to detach over the years.

“I traveled a lot, met a lot of people. I served my country. Agents for other countries took notice. How could they not? I’m pretty easy on the eyes,” Ana says with the confidence of a woman who knows what power she holds over others. Manicured fingers draw Smith’s attention once more, the cherry red polish an attractive contrast to her cornsilk blonde hair as she tucks loose curls behind her ear. “My profile got a little too high. And then the letter from UMBRA arrived. It made sense to move on, even if it wasn’t easy. Nobody truly retires from the SVR.”

What was the worst phase in your life? And if you were able to change the past, would you?

              Pipes rattle to life in the wall, and Ana understands why this particular office had been chosen, if not for its emptiness. Seduction requires strategy, as does survival, which means identifying exit points before one steps through the door is critical. UMBRA would be foolish to think she doesn’t treat any encounter with her fellow agents as she would a meeting with a target. They are in the furthermost corner of the building ⏤ a place known for its seclusion. For privacy, she suspects, but there is an inkling of suspicion from her SVR days that will never leave her.

There is a packet of cigarettes and a matte black lighter in her jacket pocket, and she can feel them burning a hole in the fabric. She craves the nicotine, but instead focuses on steeling herself to answer the agent’s inquiry. “Worst phase,” Ana repeats, wetting her lips. “The injury, obviously. Everything I saw and did during my time with the SVR doesn’t compare to the pain I endured ⏤ and not just the breaking of bones and tearing of ligaments. I had my future stripped away from me in a matter of seconds, all because of one bad landing that I had practiced hundreds of times. Going home was difficult. The house was very dark for a long time, like there was a storm cloud hovering above it. We Russians, we don’t handle shame well.”

A sigh escapes her lips as she uncrosses her leg to rub gently at her knee. The phantom pain lingers. “Changing the past means I am ashamed of it. Do I wish I had landed the jump? Of course. But it brought me here. If I had medaled, I would have kept skating, and I never would have fallen onto this path. I think it was meant for me, one way or another. So no, I wouldn’t change it. I accept my actions and my fate, no matter how painful.”

Do you perceive your work here with us important? if so, explain why. if not, explain why.

              “People assume that seduction is all about sex,” Ana began, guiding the conversation to where she wanted it to be, “but it’s really about power. It’s about setting a trap, and luring someone past the point of no return. It’s not just about whoring yourself out ⏤ though, I should say for the record that I support the choice.”  She crosses one leg over the other and smoothes down the fabric of her pencil skirt, manicured nails working over her thighs. “UMBRA is not an organization that holds on to unnecessary baggage. So by virtue of me being here, I can deduce that what I do is important, in some shape or form. Do I feel it’s important? Naturally, and not just for job security,” she adds with a mirthless laugh.

“I know some of my colleagues see me as window dressing. A distraction. That’s okay with me.” Ana plucks a stray strand of blonde hair from her skirt and examines it for a moment before discarding it. ( There is no nuclear DNA in hair shafts, this much she knows. Not that her concern lies with leaving evidence behind. UMBRA already has everything they could possibly need from her, including a DNA typing extracted from a blood sample, as well as fingerprints. A necessary contribution; their insurance. ) Smirking, she looks up at the senior agent, catching his eye. “I like to be underestimated. It’s better for the prey not to see the predator coming, yes?”

Is there anything that you believe we can do differently and why?

              Ana volleys the query around in her mind for a while before she answers. Her mother always told her that the best way to deliver criticism was to present it alongside praise, not that Smith was the sole bearer of UMBRA’s shortfalls. “You treat your agents well,” she says diplomatically. “Perhaps one day you will give us all of the details necessary to carry out our jobs. The nature of our work is sensitive, but if you want to protect your people, you must empower them to make their choices. We wouldn’t have been recruited if we were not to be trusted.”

What is the one thing that you will never do, or at least, will refuse to do?

              The question prompts a series of images to flash through Ana’s mind: assault, torture, murder. She’s always had a strong stomach, capable of handling horror. “Women are conditioned for violence,” her mother used to say as she helped ice her daughter’s knees. “The world is so ugly to us, our bodies betray us, and we keep going. It makes us strong ⏤ our spirits and our stomachs.” She thinks about the violence she’s witnessed in her career with the SVR, and the nightmares that have followed her.

“Everything once, right?” She has to stop herself from winking at Smith, whose gaze has lifted from his notes to observe her. She wants ⏤ no, needs ⏤ him to take her seriously. So she sits up straight and delivers her answer with the unwavering, ironclad confidence that has been instilled in her since childhood, so that her answer needs no clarification. “I work in service of my employer, whoever that might be. You know my strengths, and you have documented my capabilities. What you ask of me will be done.”

Last but not least, who do you think killed the Vice-Director?

so lise grew up travelling- her parents were journalists and they took lise and her younger siblings all over the world with them. she was taught several languages from a very young age, and grew up pretty spoiled.

her family was murdered when she was eighteen, and for a solid 4 years or so, she kinda went Dark. she became obsessed with seeking justice for them, and did a lot of Nasty Things that she’s still trying to forget. when she was about 22, she was nearly killed sticking her nose somewhere it shouldn’t have been, and came to the realization that she wasn’t going to be able to get out of this life unless she cleaned up her act.

she used her (pretty significant) inheritance to buy herself a new apartment and a new life. she still had a significant web of contacts and informants, and that made her useful. she was hired as a consultant for the paris police prefecture, and continued to build her web.

her reason for joining umbra was pretty much “why not”, because she didn’t really have anything to lose, and she felt she could do a lot more with their resources.

she works as umbra’s counterintelligence and information specialist, and she continues to use and build her web under an alias.

-she’s true neutral and doesn’t sleep and runs on coffee and pettiness someone help her

-she’ll say really vague ominous things unintentionally and then Not Bother to explain

-walks away in the middle of conversations

-intj

-Very Gay

-can go from disaster to completely put together in about ten minutes

-has pretty major ptsd but tells No One

-knows a lot of dirt on people

-it’s pretty much her job

-her office is impossible to walk through- papers and photographs are scattered everywhere but she insists there’s an order to it

-gives off the impression of being polished and polite and mild-mannered and having her shit together but she’s dying inside

Alright the thing to understand about Diana is that UMBRA and I.D.A. is her entire life. It was the only path there ever was for her, the idea of doing anything else barely even crossed her mind. 

Both her parents were with the I.D.A. Her father is the recently deceased vice-director, and her mother was a field agent who died on a mission when Diana was too young to really know her. She never had the most outwardly affectionate relationship with her father, but they were very close in their own way and Diana cares very deeply about impressing him. 

Diana’s approach is very by the book, only bending the rules under the most dire of circumstances and even then reluctantly. UMBRA is her life, she prioritizes the organization over herself in almost every way, conducting herself exactly as an agent should.

Diana is fluent in English, Mandarin, French, and German, and can understand several others to at least some degree, largely due to having language tutors as a child. However, of all the languages she knows, Mandarin is her favourite. Her father spoke it to her as a child, and continued to do so in his softer moments as she grew up. He was never an affectionate man, but sometimes he’d place a hand on her shoulder and speak a few soft words in his native language and call her by her Chinese name, moments that always meant more to Diana than she knew how to say.

Though she prefers non-combat roles in her missions, Diana’s a proficient fighter. She’s not a physically intimidating woman, but what she lacks in strength and size, she makes up for in speed and efficiency. Diana isn’t fighting to win, she’s fighting to incapacitate her opponent long enough to get the hell out of hand-to-hand range and load her gun.

Running and boxing are Diana’s favourite ways to work out. They help her clear her head. She likes working on her marksmanship for similar reasons.

Diana is almost always armed. She may not like combat much, but she knows better than not to be ready for it all times.

You’ll never hear her admit it, but Diana misses being called by her real name sometimes. She knew giving up her civilian identity was a necessary part of becoming an UMBRA agent, and usually she’s happy to be Agent 07 and no one else, but in her quieter, weaker moments, she misses it. She tries not to think too hard about what that says about her.

Although UMBRA the mission always comes first, Diana tries to keep an eye out for the newer and younger agents. She isn’t very direct about it, but she likes the idea of mentorship.