Just playing around with some character ideas. I include a brief history of the character's life up until the point of introduction, as well as a condensed biography and an excerpt that demonstrates how the character looks and behaves. Mature content mostly amounts to mild swearing. Excerpts that require interaction will use "John" or "Jane Doe" in place of other characters.
Niksha Volkov (Nikki Fay) is the daughter of runaway Russian suka, Ivan Volkov (Ian Fay). The two snuck into America in 1945, when Niksha was nine. At the time, the country was distracted by the close of WWII, and the two were able to rent a rundown apartment in Brooklyn, New York, relying on theft and robbery for several months until Ivan was able to find work as a millwright in Illinois. Here, Niksha spent her teenaged years dressed as a boy and going by the name “Nick”, working with Ivan to cultivate an American accent. In 1953, Ivan got word from an old friend in Russia that the gulags were emptied of his fellow gang members. Using the crime connections he’d forged in Brooklyn, Ivan saw to the successful immigration of several Bratva suka who had survived the Bitch Wars*. He then started a quiet crime ring called the Western Hand, despite his daughter’s heated objections. In 1955, Niksha dropped her masculine disguise and got a job dancing in a local theater. While she thinks her father’s business is incredibly risky, Niksha has an ear for gossip and can’t help stoking the occasional fire on her father’s behalf.
*Historically, the Bratva didn’t take hold in America until the 1970s. I know this. Ivan Volkov’s Western Hand is not necessarily affiliated with the Bratva, though rumors may circulate about Russian Mafia presence as a result of the Red Scare.
Born: Niksha Ivanova Volkov on May 2, 1936 in Novosibirsk, Russia
Aliases: Nikki Fay
Relations: Ivan Volkov (Papa), Eva (Mama, deceased)
Current Location: Chicago, Illinois
Current Occupation: Dancer
They were then presented with a tall, imperial woman whose black hair sat about her chin in large, splendid curls of gunmetal silk. Her rufous lips were pouty and unsmiling, her hawkish eyes a pale, bottle-green as they slid beneath her winged lashes. Her sharp shoulders dipped around a generous string of pearls, her narrow hips slinking smoothly in the floor-length gown she wore. “What can I do for you gentlemen…oh, John Doe, it’s you.” She craned her head, accentuating her long, pearly neck. “Privyet, my dear.”
“Dobryj vyechyer.” John Doe accepting the sinuous hand she extended and gracing it with a kiss. He turned to look at John Doe II. “May I present the lovely Niksha Volkov. Her father was a Bratva back in the Land of Rus--Russia, that is. If anyone can help you, she can.”
Niksha Volkov flicked her glassy eyes to John Doe II. “Kak vas zovut?”
“What are you called?”
“Oh, John Doe II.”
She didn’t seem terribly impressed as she sauntered past them, making herself comfortable in a stuffed chair against the far wall. John Doe III obediently flocked to her side with a drink already poured. She swished it pensively. “What do you need help with, John Doe II?”