[WIP] Petrov, Yuri

[Yuri Petrov]

Yuri Petrov
Lie Detection

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General »

Nickname: The Mute (courtesy of Schneider's goons and their captives)
Gender: male
Age: thirty-four
Student/Professor: n/a
Subject: n/a
Birth-date: March 3, 1979
Birthplace: Ingushetia, Russia
Sexuality: straight
Face Claim: Jeremy Renner

Appearance »

Eye color: blue
Hair color: brown
Height: 5'9
Build: muscular and stocky
Scars: several long and deep scars trailing from his shoulder blades down to his hips; only on the back
Tattoos: none
Piercings: none

Personality »

Likes:

• his brother, Valentin
  
• dogs (fuck cats)
  
• plans, lists, etc
  
• leverage
  
• good company
  
• inspiration
  
• stories told by mouth
  
• gradualism
  
• secrecy
  

Dislikes:

• hotheads
  
• impulsive, cocky morons
  
• Schneider (but he sure is fun to annoy)
  
• caffeine
  
• spoiled brats
  
• sleeping on beds
  
• cats
  

Fears:

• too much about his past/identity being revealed
  
• never seeing his brother again
  
• letting the enemy get the advantage
  
• whips (bad... bad experiences)
  

Brief Summary:

Behold the king of prisoners! Look upon the wise and the great! Bow before the leader... that doesn't want to be a leader? Yuri - nicknamed The Mute for his quiet, and observative nature - has become somewhat of a legend amongst his cellmates and Schneider's goons. He doesn't jeer, plead, or cry to the goons over his predicament, nor does he threaten. Rather, he sits back and watches; often times he won't speak for days, unlike the more rowdy mutants. He continuously follows the philosophy that speaking should be reserved to when you have something worthwhile to say. With only a few - and usually tactical - comments to spare a day, Yuri comes across as wise, worldy, and... maybe even mysterious; all of which appeal tend to appeal to the downtrodden captives residing in Schneider's basement. He is their unannounced leader, whether he wants the job or not.

Now where did this source of intelligence come from? Certainly not any Ivy league schools... or even middle schools for that matter! But his travels around the world - though against his will - offered Yuri several chances to expand his mind; what he lacked in academic experience he made up for with intuition. And with an endless supply of masters to toy with, Yuri has also developed a talent for manipulation and planning; the mind will always be his weapon of choice.

But with great intelligence comes a dislike for those who lack it. A patient man, Yuri keeps a cool head when dealing with... morons, but
he often makes his annoyance somewhat known. He just tries to avoid erupting into a Russian volcano. In general, The Mute holds a dislike for anything (or anyone) impulsive; this includes the common mutant hot-head. Screaming at someone while locked inside a cage won't solve anything, or at least that's what Yuri believes. He'd much rather resolve issues through negotiation... or manipulation, if the situation calls for it. And as for those who pick an immature way of handling their problems, Yuri has nothing but a condescending attitude in store for them.

Power Description »

Yuri's power is pretty self explanatory; as a lie detector, he detects... lies, you guessed it. However, he needs to be able to hear his target's voice or see their face in order to detect any "credibility gap." This means he can not sense lies through any form of writing. Otherwise, Yuri's power is accurate one hundred percent of the time; he's had years of practicing after all.

History »

Yuri doesn't remember much about his birth parents; he'd known them for five years of his life and then... that was it. He only recalls very precise details regarding his parents. Very simple, useless details. Viktoriya, his mother, had blue eyes and a small mouth, while his father, Urie, seemed to never close his own gaping fish trap. He was loud and she was quiet. He smoked and she would spend hours waving the smoke away with calloused hands. Simple, pointless details. Yuri has spent many a good day pondering over one crucial question; did I like them? Did I love them? It was hard to fathom any love for these beings of memory, for he knew so very little about them. But no matter. Yuri would have several more parents as he grew older; nannies, guardians... employers, rulers, and masters.

The separation took place November 21, 1984. A five year old Yuri - barely tall enough to shuffle through the snow - walked hand-in-hand with his older brother, Valentin. They had just turned the corner of a local coffee shop when Yuri began to question Val about his surroundings, like he always did. "Why does coffee taste b-" He was no longer standing on the ground. Nobody was. Everyone was either on the ground, or mashed against walls and dining tables. Yuri sent up a wail as he took note of something prickly digging into his shins and elbows - glass shards from one of the coffee shop windows - but was quickly drowned out by the distress of others. One word soon hugged everyone's tongue: bomb. The cries and screeches hit an even higher volume, leaving Yuri dazed and panicked as he curled up on the debris-littered asphalt.

"Yuri!" Val's voice - portraying annoyance, fear, and pain - came back to Yuri. When the five year old only blinked in response, his brother smacked the young boy hard across the face to 'liven him up.' "I've been screaming at you for five whole fuc-" The ground shook again and Yuri struck up another wail; he braced himself for a second bomb, only to get kicked and prodded by his brother until he stood up. There wasn't a bomb... it was a mob. Another riot against the government was in the making; one that was supposed to help the people, that ultimately ended up hurting. Inside the partially demolished coffee shop lay an important government official, dead. But now was not the time for poking dead things with sticks. Now was the time to run... and run fast. Val - only thirteen and now in charge of keeping his brother alive - took off down the street with Yuri in tow.

Unable to find their way home as their neighborhood fell to flames, the distressed brothers rushed into a pub restroom, nearly seven miles away from the explosion. Val sat his younger brother on the sink and started cleansing the wounds with the best medical supplies money could buy: spit and thumb. But one particular wound disturbed him; there was dried blood caking Yuri's ear. Val whispered into sad ear... but no response. He spoke a little louder, and still nothing. It was only after he spoke especially loud - just below a shout - that Yuri responded. Scared and hurting for his brother, Val screamed. Barely three seconds later, a pair of gentlemen hurried into the bathroom to see what the ruckus was about. Valentin blubbered out the entire story without the men even asking. As he talked, both men gathered up a friendly - but incredibly unnerving - smile and began to usher the two boys towards their car, parked behind the bar. "We'll take you home... to the police... to the hospital." The story kept on changing, but neither boys thought bad of these two heroes; they climbed into the car with little - if any - protest.

They didn't go home, to the police station, or the hospital. They drove for hours; about forty minutes into the drive, the two men had to handcuff, gag, and blindfold the two boys when they started to get suspicious. The kidnappers - no longer the gentlemen they appeared to be - finally stopped the car at another bar, once more parking at the back. They carried the boys down into a cellar, where several other young children lay in cages; here was the shady side of the adopting service. Yuri and Val were no longer human beings, they were merchandise. It only took a few days for the two boys to be sold - luckily, together - to a wealthy couple on the outskirts of France: the Moreaus.

For five years the couple tried to raise the boys as their own, but with little success. Val struck up the biggest fight, and Yuri followed suit. Only the nanny - dear Margaret - was allowed near the boys without a screaming match. It was also Margaret who discovered the boys' powers, for she too was a mutant, and an observative one at that. The mere second the boys discovered their powers, the nanny knew too; she was a power enhancer, and thus could recognize a power with a mere glance. Exuberant and giddy, Margaret announced her find to the Moreaus. She knew nothing of the danger she now thrust onto the boys.

Exasperated with their inability to assimilate the boys into their family, the Moreaus called up a trusted friend: Clyde Schneider. They had heard of his expanding business through word of mouth - mostly those belonging to other human traffickers - and figured they could fetch a handsome price for the pheromone manipulator and the lie detector. Within days of hearing about the brothers' powers, the Moreaus dragged them on a plane to America - one way tickets for the boys. Once in contact with Schneider, the couple negotiated a price; they were finished in hours.

The Petrov brothers spent another two months locked away in the cells beneath Schneider's house before they were sold, yet again. This time they fell into the hands of a large Montana family who prided themselves on the idea that the old south was never wrong - slavery and all. They worked like slaves in the olden days: raking in the crops, planting seeds, and occasionally tending to the family's farm animals. To any outsider, Yuri and his brother looked like average day laborers... apart from the fact that Yuri was ten at the time. But they were not just laborers; they were servants... slaves, even. And as slaves, it seemed only fit that Yuri and Val be punished as such by the Montana family - called the Bakers. Talk back to a master, four lashes. Fail to rake in the crop, seven lashes. Hurt a family member... well that all depended on the severity. The cow whip began the dreaded implement of the Baker family, and one that Yuri and Val came to loathe. "It's not right," Val would complain, to which Yuri could only nod. And that was that. There was little rebellion and disobedience... except for one major incident.

It had been seven years since either Yuri or his brother had stepped foot in one of Schneider's cells. And it would only take a few more weeks before one of them saw metal bars again. The cause for said mutant recall? The flirtatious, Chelsea Baker. Nineteen at the time and still confined to her parents' house, the Baker daughter had resorted to rebellion; stay out late, ignore chores, date with the neighborhood boys. But she also participated in the unthinkable; she flirted with the help. Yuri quickly shoved off her advances, none too eager to face the whip again. As for Val... well, his twenty-five year old body was craving attention... female attention. Chelsea was happy to oblige; again and again and again. Yuri warned his brother, but his warnings were quickly undermined by the older male's raging hormones. Two weeks of shunning his brother's protests all came down to one thing; Chelsea was now pregnant.

After a tearful confession from Chelsea to Val, the older brother wandered about the plantation: distraught and resigned. He'd be killed. Surely he'd be killed! Valetin barricaded himself in the ol' barn and cried like a twelve year old. Yuri - after hours of questioning and bothering - finally got the whole story out of Val. The young teen felt his blood run cold and his joints stiffen; his brother was going to die. That night - cold and frigid - lay setting to one of the most frightening experiences of Yuri's life. Chelsea prodded at the food on her plate for a full twenty minutes before he said anything... and she was blunt. "I'm pregnant." Mr. Baker dropped his fork, letting it hit the plate with a clatter. "You're... you're not pregnant." There was an intense moment of silence, one that pushed Yuri and Val to the far corner of the room. "You're not.. you're - WHO DID IT!?" He immediately swung around to the Russian boys; he always suspected there was some funny business going on in his own house... but he didn't know which boy was to blame. Val took a deep breath, steeled his expression, and- "I did it," didn't say anything. It was Yuri, hand raised and voice soft, that spoke.

It wasn't done on impulse. Before the two brothers were shipped away from the Moreaus, Margaret pulled Yuri to the side and gave him some life changing advice. "Be a smart boy," she said. Not a good boy, not a strong boy, but a smart boy. So, that's what he became... or at least, that's what he aimed to be; so far he'd done a pretty good job at meeting his goal. As Mr. Baker grasped Yuri's wrist with an iron grip, the boy thought back to his reasoning. He won't kill a child. The older man dragged Yuri down the basement steps. It'll hurt, but I won't die. Val screamed in the background as the Baker sons held him back. It'll be worth it. Yuri's master threw him down onto the stone floor. I love my brother. The whip cracked.

Mr. Baker delivered undeserved justice to Yuri's wiry body until he could no longer stand. Bruised and bleeding, Yuri was tossed into the back of his master's pick up truck. He could hear his brother screaming again, but didn't have the energy to peer over the truck bed; he was leaving this time... and it wasn't a part of the plan. Even with hazy mind and aching body, Yuri sought to adapt to his predicament. He would trick some people, travel back to his brother, and rescue him. They would run away to New York... or any city big enough to conceal him. Yuri wou- ... destroy Schneider from the inside.

It was the epiphany of his lifetime. As Schneider's hideout came into view, Yuri knew that he could infiltrate this horrible business. He could put an end to it! If the Russian could manipulate one master, why couldn't he do the same to others? Yes he had done so at the risk of his life, but this was his first time! Surely he could improve... yes, he would. Had to! Yuri could hardly contain his excitement as the cell door slammed shut, locking into place. Here is where the operation would begin.

He spent the following 17 years in and out of Schneider's cells; Yuri served time as a butler, nanny, cook, and even - oh yes - a sex slave... that wasn't the worst job in the world either. But more often than not, he was returned before his new master(s) could even assign a job. He'd comment on how beautiful someone's daughter was, or perhaps mention he "impregnated" his last master's girl. Sometimes all he'd have to do was mention some sort of sociopathic past in order to be sent back. Whatever the trick, Yuri always landed himself right back in the cells: where he felt most comfortable. Here he was on the inside. Here he could find out more about the business he wanted to destroy. Here he had purpose and worth.

OOC »

OOC Name: Haze
Contact(s): Pm me
How did you find us? I ran through the sliding screen door..

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