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    1. Vladimir Grimm 11 yrs ago

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"Chort tzdbya beeree!"

Nic's gruff voice filled the barracks as his barely opened eyes glanced at the time on the clock. 2AM. Now, he wasn't mad at the fact that he was getting up so early, it was mostly the fact that he hadn't got to sleep. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and sluggishly swung his legs out from underneath the covers, where they came to rest on the cold floor. At the end of his bunk lay the newly-put-together beauty that was his LMG. Katyusha, he called it, as it reminded him of home and the Nationally famous war song.

"Oh, Katyusha, why must sleep slip through my grasp so easily? When I think I have it in a choke hold...The damned Aliens lay waste to some poor-ass citizen. What is it they want with us anyway, with a civilization so hell bent on surviving on this barren rock, what threat could we pose?"

After taking a moment to ponder the thought, his tongue rolling across his pointed teeth, Nic began throwing each piece of armor on. Heavy as it may be, it had long ago become light to him as his body grew accustomed to the enormous pressure it put upon his frame. Any normal Assault wimp would crumble underneath the sheer mass, but not Nic. No, Nic was made for this. He was born a Heavy.

"Nic! Move your ass, Sigma's being called for this!" came a woman's voice from the doorway, far too high pitched and loud for this time of day.

"Indanahway suka bluut..." was Nic's response as he slung on the rest of his gear (Along with Katyusha, of course), and trudged towards the door with his helmet tucked firmly underneath his arm. "How about you go tell Lawson I'm on my way, little bird. I don't have time to discuss such things. As you said, Sigma is needed. As for Marius, I'm sure he is on his way to the Hangar, no?" And with that, the large man shoved past the tiny Swedish Sniper, smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

As Nic rounded the corner to the access lift, he saw Marius waiting for it to reach his floor, and immediately lifted his large helmet into the air. "Ah...First one here, as always. Where is the rest of our circus troop? Still sleeping I assume?"

As was the same with every mission, Nic was quick to assume, and even faster when it came to readying up in the morning. Some would call him a Veteran, some would call him a machine. It didn't matter to Nic however, for he preferred the life of War and Destruction. He didn't even care whether or not this planet died, his job was to ensure the safety of the team, and the success of the missions by killing everything in sight before it got to him or the rest of Sigma.
I think we should operate out of Russia ;) Lots of mountains and forests to hide our HQ in.
Looks like we're getting all sorts of nationalities here...perfect :P
Name: Nicolai Mendaev

Age: 28

Nation of Origin: RU

Looks/desription: Buzzed brown hair with a large build, enough to scare off any normal man. His face is sharp and fierce, as lifeless as stone. Beneath his large brow are a pair of emerald green eyes, and a thick nose always flared as if it's sniffing out a target. His jaw is this and has many scars along the bone from where it's been fractured many times, and never fails to be overgrown with some stubble. Very professional, I know. He stands at a large 6'2" and 210lbs. Some call his body 'fat', some call him 'roid jockey', but all Nic knows is that he spent far too many days in the Jail's weight room for him to be skinny. His hands are large and calloused from many days in the Yard, along with many days spent picking up after Alpha in the field.

Personality: A hard man to talk to, to put it bluntly. Usually when approached he ends up assaulting the person unless it's a fellow member of Sigma, who he doesn't enjoy dealing with. His only motivation is to be the best, and to defeat the undefeated. Whether it's in the field, or resting back at HQ, Nic is always in a troubled mood. It could be his lack of sleep, or the fact that he finds too much enjoyment in the heat of the battlefield, and the uncertainty of death, and when it will come for him. Thought he does have a soft spot: Vodka. Any shot of the Russian special will send him into a fairly happy mood, but that's only after he gets a bottle or two into his system. Being a large guy, it's not easy to take him down with a small amount.

Class: Heavy

Weapon: Laser LMG, Rocket Launcher.

Armor/MEC suit: Titan Armor

Powers/Biotic Augments: Brain: Neural Feedback / Eyes: Hyper Reactive Pupils / Chest: Seconday Heart / Skin: Bioelectric Skin / Legs: Adaptive Bone Marrow

Short Bio:Born and raised in Russia, Nic was always part of the local 'hoodlums'. In fact, he led them in most cases. Being as large as he was, however, -even at a young age-, he was prone to being caught. As he grew older, the sentences grew longer. As more and more punishment was dealt out, Nic's crimes grew even worse, along with the fading patience of his Father, who was the judge stuck to sentencing Nic. He got a lot of shit for being brought up in a Law household, but he never had any intentions of following in his Father's footsteps. His mother, not even worth mentioning, for she left with some Spetsnaz grunt just a few years after he was born. His Father was thrown into a rut of depression, and was so caught up in his work that he didn't see his growing son becoming more of a menace. By the time Nic was 25, he had committed more crimes than he was old, and his Father was ready to bring down the hammer upon his head. But, that's when the Aliens invaded. They started slow by picking at innocent humans, but it slowly turned into War in which most of XCOM was thrown into.Though most of the people involved in XCOM were scientists, and many other high-paying jobs, they WANTED to be there. For the Soldiers like Nic, they were plucked out of their lives simply for the fact that they all had one skill in common: They were killers. Whether they believed it or not, every single soldier could easily murder something without it ruining his mental stability. And this...this is where Nic flourished. Not stuck in Russia committing petty crimes to anger his father and get attention; Instead he belonged in Sigma, wielding enormous weapons and kicking a metric fuck ton of ass.
Interested, hohohohohoho.
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