Mitya Makarov

[Mitya Makarov]

The Basics

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Name: Dimitri Nikolayevich Makarov
Nicknames: Mitya, and Mitya only.
Age: 37
Orientation: Pansexual
Desired Rank/Job: Trainer
Powers: Telekinesis. He’s heard people say that it must make life so much easier, being able to move and control objects using your mind alone. All the mundane tasks you can think of condensed into one short space of time. Drink your tea while you’re signing paperwork and cleaning, that sort of thing. For Mitya, it’s a helpful power, but one he sort of wishes he didn’t have. If he could live as normal in the world without being ordered around by organisations who just want to use his power for less than savoury operations, then he would relish it, adore it, hope to pass it on to children one day. If life in the military has taught him anything, though, it’s that the world doesn’t work that way, and his powers will only end up used to hurt people. Hopefully not any more, but he isn’t keeping his hopes up.

Mitya is telekinetic, able to move objects with his mind. It’s been a long struggle, but he is now able to use weapons, including firearms, without touching them and can stop full grown men in their tracks. He can lift men up to his own weight but cannot carry them or throw them. He can flip them onto their heads, though, if that’s useful to anyone... He can’t throw cars or massive bombs or stop bullets or any of that cool stuff. He might be able to slow a bullet by a tiny amount but he hasn’t tried and it probably wouldn’t be a very good idea to start.
Play By: Konstantin Khabensky

The Details

Hair Color: Mousy brown
Eye Color: Watery blue
Any Piercings? None
Any Tattoos? None
Any Scars? Many little silvery scars gained through military service
General Appearance:
You probably wouldn’t look at him twice walking down a crowded street. Mitya is tall, but not overly so, standing at five feet and eleven inches. He is slender, but definitely not weedy. His light brown hair is of medium thickness, though since it’s usually fairly short, it can be hard to tell. His watery-blue eyes aren’t incredibly striking, though they are bright and easily his most distinguishing feature. Which doesn’t say much for the rest of him, really! His smile is usually lopsided, and big grins don’t come easily. His face is just like that. Unfortunately. He is fairly pale, the type that burns deep red in summer but will eventually tan lightly in patches.

His clothes are always inconspicuous but smart, his hair as neat as he can manage (which is usually not actually very neat at all). Favouring suits in drab colours, he does a pretty good job of blending into the background. If you were to strip away the clothes you would see that he is deceptively strong, with the body of a dancer, muscular and lean. You would see silvery scars gained from military service, though perhaps only really if you were staring.

Personality:
If you got the chance to talk to him after you gave the poor, startled Russian his clothes back, you would note that he is generally quiet, and not because he really would rather not talk to the crazy person who ripped off his suit. He’s always been fairly quiet and extra polite, the speak-only-when-spoken-to type. Growing up in a military family does that to you, or so he says. He is often secretive and hates to speak about his past. Being so quiet means that he often comes off as distant and cold, the sort of person you don’t want to speak to unless you absolutely have to. If you are lucky enough to get to speak to him beyond the initial shock of stealing his clothes and the pleasantries he offers if you try to speak to him, then you would find out that he isn’t as stoic or distant as he appears to be.

Warm and kind-hearted, Mitya only ever wanted to help people, to heal them. He is patient and caring, and makes a fine teacher where powers are concerned. He is frustrated constantly that his dream of healing others was never realised, and he hopes that, though training others, he can make up for that. It’s still helping them in some way, which is all he ever wanted. It would make his life. He identifies as pansexual, and yes, he has heard all the jokes that can be thought of so... none of those, thank you kindly. Unfailingly loyal (except, of course, in certain circumstances) he will defend a friend with his life. He will always he happy to provide a shoulder to cry on and would do almost anything for a person he loves.

He isn’t an angry person by nature, but when he is angry he’s not always passive about it. He will fight with someone if he must but he also knows which battles are worth the effort and which ones he should rush into if he wants to be sent home in a matchbox. An intelligent man, Mitya is normally peaceful and doesn’t condone senseless violence. Which is why he left home in the first place. He is an emotional man and feels his emotions strongly. He tends to keep those emotions to himself, though, leaving them buried too long so they often come out in negative ways, sometimes as angry outbursts towards people who don’t deserve it or depressions which leave him in the house, curled up in the corner for a week.

A proud person (blame his heritage; he always does), he finds it difficult to admit that he’s in the wrong or apologise. Even if, in the middle of an argument, he is proven wrong, he will staunchly defend his position to the end. They say stubborn, he says determined. Apologies from him can take months. You may have even forgotten why you were mad at him, and suddenly he will sigh, roll his eyes and grumble “I’m sorry I kicked your cat/stole your cheesecake/crashed your car” or whatever it happened to be. He is so stubborn that, should he have a really ridiculous idea, he cannot be dissuaded from pursuing it. He relented when he was young and now regrets it; never again will he give up. Unfortunately, the kinds of ideas he has are the kinds that get him into trouble or injured, and worse still, he knows. In fact, he believes that it’s only a matter of time before his superiors get angry at him for defecting and come to take him back to Russia. He feels as though he is a coward for leaving his country when there were people there who needed his help.

Your Vices

Likes:
+ Helping people
+ Tea
+ Learning new things
+ Music (almost anything, including Russian folk music)
+ Trying on women’s perfume. Shh.
+ Animals
+ Dancing
+ Cooking
+ Rain, snow, wet weather
+ Movies
+ Reading
Dislikes:
- Vodka. So bitter.
- Willful ignorance
- People who don’t want to learn
- Dance music
- Violence
- Sun. Mainly because he burns very easily.
- Migraines. In Spetsnaz, they absolutely floored him.
- Overusing his power unnecessarily
- Herbal tea. Ick.
- Using weapons.
- Garlic.
- Talking about himself
Strengths:
> Using firearms, especially handguns.
> Very graceful, which is sort of to be expected from a ballet dancer. Although he has been out of practice, and is re-training in order to start tutoring.
> He hates to talk about himself and has therefore turned diverting attention into an art.
Weaknesses:
> He was never very good with rifles. Hopefully he’ll never have to use another one.
> Hand-to-hand combat is a weak point, too. He may be strong, but without his powers he’ll be on the floor in seconds.
> Facing his fears. He’s not very good at it and if faced with the possibility, he’d rather run and hide.
Fears:
> Being taken back to Russia. Especially by force.
> Being forced to hurt others.
Secret:
He thinks of himself as a complete coward and would much rather hide than face his fears, despite how he might come across to some.
Has never had a proper romantic relationship in his life. He’s sort of embarrassed by that.

Family Ties

Father:
Nikolay Sergeievich Makarov (69, retired)
Mother:
Ekaterina Ivanovna Makarova (née Luzhina) (67, retired)
Siblings:
Aleksandra Nikolayevna Nikitina (43, ballet instructor)
Elena Nikolayevna Makarova (42, zoologist)
Marina Nikolayevna Dyalova (39, housewife)
Any Other Important People:
Andrei Lvovich Nikitin (45, brother-in-law, pawn shop owner)
Anton Nikitin (12, nephew)
Elizaveta Nikitina (12, niece)
Vladimir Grigorievich Dyalov (37, brother-in-law, meteorologist)
Ekaterina Dyalova (14, niece)
Dimitri Dyalov (13, nephew)
Colonel Ivan Kirov (55, his former commanding officer)

History

In Voronezh, Russia, in a small house in one of the poorer parts of the city, Dimitri was born without much noise to ballet instructor Ekaterina Ivanovna and her clairvoyant soldier husband, Nikolay Sergeievich Makarov. The youngest of four, Mitya (as he became known) was also the only boy, and as his father’s only son, you might expect that he was spoiled and mollycoddled. This couldn’t be further from the truth, although not because he wasn’t loved. His father was a soldier, one with a special ability that made him incredibly valuable to his regiment. Able to predict missiles and ambushes with startling precision, he was well protected in war situations, while taking part in experiments behind the scenes. He wasn’t paid any extra, and often those experiments were painful and humiliating, but he knew that if he refused, his daughters would be taken, since there was the chance that they may have inherited his gift. That, and he was staunchly patriotic, believing that the experiments would turn out to be useful for Russia and her people. Mitya was expected to follow suit when he grew up and was very nearly seized by the army immediately following his birth for test purposes. It was only because Nikolay managed to convince them that his son would benefit more from living at home, being trained in ballet by his mother, that he was allowed to stay with his family. Ballet would make him strong and supple, and true enough, Mitya did start training at the age of eight. Not officially, but his mother did want him to learn the basics while he was still young. His oldest sister, Aleksandra, helped to teach him; at sixteen years of age, she was a ballet enthusiast and hoped to one day travel to Moscow to join the Bolshoi Theatre. (She would eventually settle for the Moscow Ballet instead.)

School was largely uneventful, save for a couple of fights with bullies. He had a handful of friends and did well in his studies. He loved the sciences and often expressed the wish to grow up and become a doctor or something similar. His dreams were always discouraged by his father, who was insistent that he would be a soldier and there would be no arguments. Mitya would pout and moan whenever this happened, of course, and whine and kick and complain. His father was not shy about hitting him, though, and he would end up with a rather red face, whether from crying or from the smack itself. Eventually, he stopped dreaming about becoming a doctor. Nowadays he wishes he had just fought a little harder.

He was fourteen years old when his power finally showed itself. Angry with something, quite possibly one of his sisters or his father, he attempted to lock himself in his room. The door slammed forcefully, shaking the room and the teenager within, but he was no longer angry. He was shocked. He hadn’t even touched the door. His father, too, was stunned when he went upstairs to punish the boy and found him staring at the door, which was swinging back and forth apparently on its own. Since Nikolay was not telekinetic but clairvoyant, he didn’t have a clue where to start trying to help his son, but he didn’t dare go for help for fear of his commanding officers learning of this new development and seizing him. Yes, that was likely one way to help him but it would be severe and cruel. He would withhold that information for a while yet. Lena, his second oldest sister, would come home every now and then to tutor her brother, as she had a similar power. She could manipulate the movements of living creatures, and figured that the idea wasn’t too far removed from telekinesis. Every day, Mitya would come home from school, practise ballet at his mother’s class, and then study for an hour on controlling his ability. He would then eat dinner, complete his homework, and go to bed. This routine only lasted about a month. When one of Nikolay’s fellow soldiers discovered that the boy’s power had emerged, the Institute seized him immediately and had him in strict training soon after. It was a stressful few years, especially since he was developing into a young man, his hormones running riot. Though people would note that he never seemed interested in girls and wouldn’t chase them or try to impress them like other boys, it wasn’t entirely true. He was interested in girls, he was interested in boys, in men and women. His free time was taken up by ballet and study, however, and he didn’t dare try to make passes at boys at any rate. And not just because of the law in place at the time.

At eighteen years of age, he was taken into Spetsnaz GRU, the Russian army special forces. They put him through rigorous tests (strength, endurance and so forth) which he passed spectacularly, and placed him in a unit of meta-humans and regular individuals mixed. He was given firearms training and, like the other gifted soldiers, he was given harsh, brutal classes forcing him to learn how to further control his power quickly so it could be put to use on the field if needed. Though it was tough, the soldiers understood that this training was necessary for survival, and Mitya made quick friends with soldiers both gifted and normal. His commanding officer, Major Ivan Mikhailovich Kirov was a strict older man, strong and healthy with blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Falling in love with him didn’t make the experience any easier on Mitya. Major Kirov was a meta-human as well, also “blessed” as he put it with telekinesis, and on seeing how fast Mitya learned, he took a shine to him and offered to take him under his wing for extra training. The younger man did not dare refuse, though he worried that his stupid crush would only intensify if he trained with Kirov alone.

He was right.

Kirov was graceful and strong; his power was trained so well that he could stop heavy moving objects, though he confessed that the force often hurt his arms and shoulders and made his migraines almost unbearable. He was not trained in ballet but moved like a dancer when he ran, and captivated the young soldier. He pushed Mitya hard, but he wasn’t as bad as the other officers. He wasn’t demeaning and he didn’t use force. He never fired his pistol unnecessarily and often told the other officers off for being too rough on the new recruits. Despite being seen as weak by some of those above him, he was well-respected, since it was known that, should he become truly angry, there was good reason, and everyone was screwed then. Mitya tried to convince himself that he wasn’t in love with his commanding officer. He would hand-wave it, saying to himself that it was more likely that he saw Kirov as a father figure or a brother, but nothing ever worked. And other soldiers were beginning to notice how he tended to stick close to the Major. It wouldn’t have been such a problem, really, had he not been in a unit full of gifted individuals. In a regular unit, his behaviour would have likely been brushed off as “teacher’s pet”, and no-one would have evidence that he was actually in love with the Major. Surrounded by telepaths, however...

It was, of course, inevitable. One soldier read his mind and that was that. He was routinely hazed by the other soldiers who believed that he was gay (though he did not identify as such, not that anyone would listen) and the superiors turned a blind eye. Even Kirov kept his distance from then on, leaving Mitya alone and distraught. For perhaps a day. The Major called him out of bed to continue his studies, as though nothing had happened. He couldn’t just leave it at that, knowing that his mind would twist it into some sort of deep love and affection for him that the other had been too shy to express. It would torture him. He demanded to know, clinging onto the officer’s arm, why he was still training him when everyone else spat and jeered. Kirov raised a brow and said “Dima, you need help, I need to help you. Feelings have no place in training.” He would never be sure why, but he worked a lot harder after that, learning to ignore the jeers and deal with those who were violent towards him as he waited for the late nights.

Three years later, Mitya was able to use weapons without touching them and stop a soldier in his tracks, though the soldier would be able to struggle free after some time. Major Kirov was promoted and moved units, Mitya was made Lieutenant because of his impressive control over his power. More new recruits came in and he helped to train them, and in only seven years he had risen swiftly through the ranks to become a Major. He was then assigned to the testing of new gifted privates, but without Kirov there, many of the other commanding officers were becoming less tolerant of the meta-humans in their care, and treated them with contempt. They were spat at and hit, sometimes beaten senseless for being unable to learn as fast as the unit wanted them to. Their training was used to teach them how to use their powers against others, sometimes as torture for prisoners. It wasn’t behaviour that would have been acceptable by Spetsnaz GRU standards, but it was kept well-hidden. Fearing the same fate as the new recruits, Mitya requested a move to a different unit, which, thankfully, they were only too happy to do for him since he had proven himself a capable officer, though it plagued him that such terrible things were going on in his previous unit. He wanted to help them but knew he would be punished severely for even attempting to do something on his own.

The move to a different unit placed him in the Odarennyĭ Institute, training the older teenagers to control their powers. The training methods were still strict, sometimes far too much for the young ones to bear, but Mitya kept reminding himself that it was still better than his previous unit. Remembering how Major Kirov had helped him, he started taking children under his wing for special training, often removing them from less desirable situations. Even so, he was afraid of being sent back to his previous unit, as those with powers were being constantly shifted. Some especially strong soldiers were sent away for more testing. Mitya certainly did not trust them to be ethical in their methods.

Despairing, knowing that he would most certainly be caught and sent back if he simply ran away, he transferred to the Swiss school as a trainer, but suffered terrible paranoia that his superiors would track him down and drag him back when they realised he had no intention of returning voluntarily. As a result, after only a year at the Swiss institute, he made the move to Hammel, where he is yet to settle in.

Roleplay Example

For the briefest of moments, the Russian thought he might be able to sneak back into the older-looking corridor he’d just emerged from, but some female doctor or perhaps lab technician was milling about in there, looking at the shelves of patient files. That made two little problems in this mission. At least he could take care of the lone doctor. Concentrating on the door at the other end of the book-lined corridor, he opened it with his power and slammed it shut, causing the startled stranger to look up from whatever it was she was reading. By sheer luck, he noticed she left it behind, open at the page, as she went to investigate the sound. She would likely be back for that book. It seemed like an excellent idea then to delicately move the book from its shelf to the very top of the tall cabinet, sticking out a little so she would be able to see it when she got back. It should keep her busy enough while he dealt with whoever was coming from the other direction. And of course, on the positive side, it was a nice non-lethal way of distracting the doctor. Now all he had to do was escape the other, whatever they were. Unfortunately, as they were closing in on him, he couldn’t think! Of anything!

Excuse me?” She sounded... young. Spinning round to take a good look at her, he kept his expression stony. She didn’t seem much of a threat, but then he had to remind himself of what city he was in. Even the meekest looking toddler could have the ability to blow up your head. There was also the fact that even regular people could be powerful to think about. The gentleman who held the door open for you moments earlier could be tying you into an intricate knot later with some form of martial arts. This had never happened outside of Mitya’s own mind but he thought about the possibilities often. Perhaps too often... Oh, right; she was waiting for an answer! And almost instantaneously, out of nowhere, he had his excuses back in his mind. Pressure could be marvellous.

“Prostitye, he pleaded rather deliberately, asking her forgiveness in his native language, his accent thickening slightly as it tended to when he was feeling emotional. Luckily, that wasn’t the case this time; he was remarkably calm and managing to keep his expression stoic. “I didn’t realise; I must be trespassing? Sometimes, the signs... I find them difficult to read.” Well that was a blatant lie. He was more than capable of reading English. They had, if nothing else, taught him well at the GRU camps. How they had known he would ever need to learn English, he didn’t know, but he was thankful to them for the lessons. The strange woman seemed to eye him suspiciously, though perhaps that was his mind playing tricks on him, trying to find tension that wasn’t there. Then she asked if he was looking for “the toxicologist”. How she knew such a thing was beyond him! Psychic, perhaps? He hoped not. But then, if she were psychic, would she not already know his true intentions?

“Actually, yes,” he said, trying not to look too stunned at the utter stroke of good fortune that had just befallen him. “I was hoping to ask him about chelation therapy. I suffered accidental poisoning last month and received therapy accordingly, though I am beginning to worry that the supplements given me are not working well; I have fallen ill twice. I know, it must sound awfully paranoid.” And far-fetched, but then again, maybe it was a more common occurrence than he thought. “I hoped to check in with Dr Corsellis to see what he would recommend.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “I did call ahead but perhaps he did not get the message?” A sudden fear gripped him then. If she did not believe his story... then what? Security would be called? And then he would be a laughing-stock, most likely, if not harmed after the pistol he carried was discovered. There was another option, he knew. He could always incapacitate the girl. That was a last-resort, so he pushed the imaginary fight sequence to the back of his mind for now.

What About You?

Name: Aileen, or Lilac works just fine.
Age: 22
Experience: Seven years or more; I can’t really recall.
How Did You Find Us? Site-hopping!
Ready To Play? Oh, I don’t know, let me just check... Yep!

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[Raena *]

Accepted!

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Welcome to the Hammel Institute! First things first, fill out your CLAIMS and if you need anything, just let any staff member know! Have fun![/blockquote][/center]