[Hider=Man of Stone]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/3sw0CEk.jpg[/img][/center]
 
[center][h3][u]Basics[/u][/h3][/center]
[b]Name[/b]: Anna Agrippina Pavlovna
[b]Codename[/b]: Man of Stone
[b]Age[/b]: 57
[b]Appearance[/b]: Anna is a terrifying mound of muscle which cling to her nigh-unimaginably massive frame like crags and cliffs cling to the sides of great Ural mountains. Her legs are like atlantean pillars anchoring her to the ground with great stability, her arms are thick like wine barrels, engorged with strength beyond the mortal ken, her fingers like iron nails posess a grip of a hydraulic vice, her neck is like that of a mighty bull and her dress is extremely pretty whilst remaining modestly conservative in the fashion of early twentieth century. She wears a narrow and richly embroidered dress with a slightly trailing skirt and large cuffs, a tall fur hat with a deep crown and a pheasant feather in it and is never, ever seen in public without a pelt of white wolf around her neck. Overall, Anna gives off an impression of a rich foreign baroness, right until the moment when she opens her mouth. Her voice is booming and almost unrealistically low, resonating within the intestines of her interlocutors with such violence that it seems like their guts have came to life and are attempting to evacuate their bodies from the sheer pants-wetting terror.
 
[b]Personality[/b]: Anna is polite, amiable and friendly at all times, even though sometimes, when among especially close friends her sophisticated demeanour sloughs off a tiny little bit and her displays of affection and jolly jokes become a tad more informal than it would be expected from a woman of high nobility. Violently psychotic beyond measure and sadistic to the extreme, she entered the business to continue sowing suffering and misery around the world for her personal enjoyment, but does so without any overt malicious glee characteristic for psychopaths and sadists of a more usual sort. For the Man of Stone it is all a big fun and happy game, you see? The screaming is music, the shattered bone flying all over the place is confetti, the blood is a delicious seasoning and every murder is a piece of a collosal and scrumptious cake that she can enjoy at her leisure, whenever and wherever she so desires. Sometimes the cake fights back a little but, but so what? It is all part of the fun - when a new acquaintance stops moving and thusly proves themselves a bore it is simply a time to move and find another one. Anna can hardly conceive of her own mortality, throwing herself into every new party with wild abandon and without a single care. Even if somehow, by some sheer miracle someone proves to be better than her, she wouldn't stick around for long enough to regret her decisions, so why bother with that line of thought at all?
 
[b]History[/b]: Anna was not always Anna. A certain time ago, Anna was Anatoli. Anatoli was born in a small provincial russian town and grew up in a socio-economical situation not worth elaborating upon, up until the moment he started rolling with the russian mob - or Bravta, as it is colloquially known. His peculiar talents have manifested themselves at a fairly early age, which gave him a considerable headstart at becoming something of a celebrity on the world's criminal scene. There were many busted heads, many chests cracked open on the knee like one cracks open a cold one with the boys in the yard, many dirty deeds and many heinous acts. Then, just when he thought the fun was really starting up, around the beginning of the eighties, he was arrested - but not for the reasons he expected! Afghan war was reignited and raging at the fringes of Russia, and with the terrible, invincible resistance the Peshawar Seven was putting up, the government required all the help and manpower they could get. Cracking down on the most vicious criminals of the russian underworld, cleaning out the prisons and mental institutions for the homicidally and criminally insane, they've gathered the absolute meanest and toughest and most ruthless of the men Mother Russia could breed into crack unofficial military units, ready to unleash them onto the unsuspecting mujahideen. The six and a half years spent in Afghanistan were the best time Anatoli had ever had in his entire life. That time was also where he earned his name. When he was twenty five, his unit attempted to send a final message to the enemies on its assigned territory, to state once and for all that this great and bountiful land belongs to the Russian Federation - they've decided to state this by commiting a civilian genocide on grand scale.
Eleven hours after the orders were assigned, Anatoli and the survivors of his squad, together with dozens of hostages - primarily children and women and the elderly - were surrounded by insurmountable numbers of the mujahideen. Both sides were weary with prolonged fighting and during a brief ceasefire, a feeble spark of hope displayed itself - the russians could've let the hostages go, and if they did the enemy would've allowed them as much time to escape as it took to get the civilians to safety. Anatoli did not consider the proposition seriously even for a briefest moment. He stood out of cover and ordered the execution of all captives. All hell broke loose and chaos reigned - everywhere, all around. Every soul was smitten with fear, with righteous rage or with despair, but that of Anatoli. Standing proudly under the hurricane of gunfire and directing his unit, never flinching as explosions detonated all around him, outright ignoring the shrapnel and bullets that whizzed past and collided with his flesh, he directed his unit in stalwart and unyielding defence, holding out until the reinforcements have finally arrived to relieve them. Thusly, the Man of Stone was born.
However, at a deeply personal level, the nickname was quite ironic. One of the grenades thrown by the mujahideen detonated right under Anatoli's feet, annihilating his manhood in a shower of shrapnel and rendering him a man no longer. Anna took the injury and the following hormonal disbalance in stride, and, when the war ended, took her time to get comfortable with her lost and rediscovered sexuality before proceeding to illegally leave USSR for Africa in order to participate in the multiple exhilaratingly brutal and senseless wars waged on that continent during these troublesome times. Since then, the Man of Stone was a free agent of destruction and mayhem, agreeing to work not for the highest bidder, but for any employer that promised them a prospective conflict of the greatest and most violent scale. The UAA does not provide the sheer excitement of an all-out war, but it compensates for that with the sheer variety and diversity of potential friends and victims to meet.
 
[center][h3][u]Battle Rites[/u][/h3][/center]
[b]Combat Style[/b]: Anna's combat style is utilitarian and simple, but not in slightest less dangerous because of that. She strikes out with everything she has at her disposal and never lets up or eases the pressure until the foe is too crippled and too tired to fight back, after which she moves in to thoroughly violate them with her bare hands in a despicably brutal fashion. One could compare that method with the hunting techniques of ancient humans - a man can walk for much, much longer than a deer can run. A man can eat on the move, or will himself through the lack of sleep and hunger, whilst a deer can not. If the hunter does not take down the deer in the initial confrontation, after several days of slow-paced but unstopping chase the deer will tire out and fall. Of course, with human-on-human hunting, it is all a little bit faster, usually. Anna advances implacably, engaging the enemy both in melee and at range, fighting with anything she has at hand, at times making up for the lack of advanced expertise through sheer physical potential and inecessant enthusiasm, until the enemy either manages to escape or drive her off or yields. She also considers it proper to carry a friendly conversation throughout the engagement.
 
[b]Equipment[/b]: Underneath her rich dress, Anna wears a little bit of armour, wisely judging that even with her grand physique, one better be safe instead of sorry. The little bit of armour is several sheets of american-made end-of-the-line, laser- impact- and heat-resistant tank armour plating hammered into a roughly chest-shaped form, worn over her chest and back. The high collar of the blouse worn underneath her dress also conceals a thick gorget of similar make - the neck is a man's greatest and most vulnerable spot. With weapons, Anna is much less conservative. Instead of establishing a personal gimmick, she gathers an arsenal in every area she moves into, usually by raiding gun stores and army bases and marauding the most delicious-looking implements of fallen opponents. Currently her armaments consist of a large and heavily serrated knife concealed in her tall boot, a bandolier of frag grenades safely stored within her plus-sized handbag and a Pfeifer-Zeliska .600 Nitro Express revolver, loading slugs as well as hilariously oversized shotgun shells. Ah yes, there is also the 40mm automatic grenade launcher with ammunitions for long days of nigh-on ceaseless fire. She only brings it with her when she is absolutely positively set on not being very polite.
 
[b]Powers[/b]: Anna is extremely strong physically. Leave-fingerholes-in-steel-with-bare-hands strong, crush-your-hand-into-paste-with-a-handshake strong, wrest-your-head-off-of-your-shoulders strong. This, however, is not her greatest strength. Anna is singularly, hilariously, mind-bogglingly durable. Over her long, long life she was shot, chopped, stabbed, gassed, poisoned, ran over with trucks and with tanks, blown up on anti-armour mines, crushed by massive rocks, incinerated by a rocket engine (don't ask) and hit by speeding trains. All these terrifying incidents have left their scars, but never made her back down. No matter what damages she sustains, Anna will shrug them off and keep going, even as her body bleeds, her bones break through her flesh and her old wounds open up from the sheer stress. She will press on as if nothing at all is out of ordinary, keeping up the pressure and making polite conversation as usual, laughing about her little scrapes and scratches as if they were mosquito bites or pimples - and even if somehow, anyhow one manages to escape the Man of Stone, she will show up again, tomorrow or in a week or in a month, her injuries almost gone and leaving only the largely superficial scars to remind of themselves. Only truly overwhelming, utterly excessive and amazingly inventive applications of physical violence can put her down for good - and even then you shouldn't take your eyes off the body.
 
[b]Special Techniques[/b]: "We have to stop meeting like this, friend!" - Whatever Anna is, it feels no pain and it will not die. If Anna is soundly trounced, defeated and even seemingly killed - already a very impressive feat - after a short while she will survive despite even the most fantastic injuries and come after her killer again, and again, and again, and again. She was never defeated more than four times in a row, and usually, out of some mild irritation or due to damage clouding her judgement, with each time she gets a little bit more sloppy unless she retires from the battle for good to recuperate. So maybe fifth time would be the charm?[hider=Spoiler:]It won't.[/hider]

[center][h3][u]Your Turf[/u][/h3][/center]
[b]Arena Description[/b]: Anna currently holds court in a completely legitimate and legal business establishment-slash-parlor situated in the seedier and less... tourist-friendly part of town. They sell and trade in many things - favors, massages, tattoos carrying secret codes, contraband, weapons, interesting information and many other, less interesting things. The place is a mishmash of many, many interconnected chambers, each serving a different purpose and decorated in different style, from sophisticated ar-deco to the fashions of royal chambers of 16th century France to hilariously over-the-top oriental-style tea rooms, each of these often filled to the brim with carousing clientelle consisting mostly of various criminal and violent types doing their completely legal and in no way criminal business. The layout is only slightly short of have been planned and brought into existence by the likes of M.C. Escher - doors and winding passages lead to completely unexpected places, lead visitors in circles unless they are guided by Anna personally, or by one of her trusted lackeys. Without such assistance, getting lost is a matter of half a minute of walking around.
 
[b]Arena Tactics[/b]: Anna is very well acquainted with the layout of her chambers, and knows exactly how to move around unnoticed despite her incredible bulk and so quickly that it seems like she is teleporting right through the walls. She employs waves of disposable flunkies to disorient and bog down the opponents whilst she makes her escape from a sticky situation or circles around for a better angle of attack. It is extremely hard to lock her down in her house, and it is highly unwise to try and chase her through it. Additionally and importantly, a lot of the decorum in the beautifully furnished chambers is much more dangerous than it seems - every decorative weapon on the walls is sharp and ready for use and every antique gun on display is loaded - especially the cannons and culverins and massive organ guns situated in the late medieval-themed chambers.
 
[b]Minion Description[/b]: Not much to say about the usual run-of-the-mill violent criminals that work directly for her or were caught in the middle of doing business by the attacking assassin, except for one thing - no matter what sort of monstrosity attacks Anna in her house, the people there are much, much more afraid of displeasing her than they are of dying or being maimed at the hands of the attacking party.
 
[center][h3][u]Other Things[/u][/h3][/center]
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q8M0D8XBS4A]Man of Stone's musical theme[/url]
[color=9e0039]Travis's jacket.[/color]
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