Viktor feels like he’s been schmoozing forever. Dragged like a leopard on a leash from group to group to group until he feels like his brain is melting out of his ears from how boring all this small talk was. Surely nothing was that important that it had to be sardonically defended at a casino. There were people being actively brainwashed on slot machines as they spoke for crying out loud. Viktor swears that if he has to fake laugh at another subpar gang related pun, he’s going to start walking into the desert and never fucking stop.
He excuses himself from the suffocatingly leery crowd of old men and makes a B-line for the closest bar and weasels his way in between a set of bodies to order a drink. The lights above the countertop strobe down in neon red and blues and Viktor drums his fingers impatiently on the countertop, a scotch order already barked into the face of a bar tender who was definitely not getting paid enough to take his shit.
“Well well-” he muses out loud, having twisted away from the bartop with a new tumbler in hand to linger somewhere close to a haphazardly thrown together buffet table. “-they really do just let anyone into these things, don’t they?” Those too bright blue eyes flicker pointedly down and up the other person, and when Viktor smiles in that chagrin sort of way that he was known for, its only ever so slightly mockingly.
Not because of the decorations, the expensive liquor flowing like water, or the fact that every gang in Coyote's Rest had somehow agreed to occupy the same building without immediately trying to kill one another. No, it was the tension that made the air feel heavier. The kind that settled beneath the laughter and music like a second heartbeat.
Taz liked tension. Tension made people predictable.
Leaning against the polished wood of the casino bar, a glass of bourbon balanced loosely between his fingers, he watched the room with the easy attention of someone who appeared completely relaxed while noticing everything. Familiar faces drifted through the crowd alongside strangers he hadn't learned yet. Old rivals shared tables. Alliances were being tested. Friendships were being repaired or ruined over drinks. Somewhere, someone was probably already violating at least three of the casino's carefully laid-out rules.
The anniversary celebration was supposed to be about unity. Fifty years of peace—or at least the closest thing Coyote's Rest ever got to it.
Taz wasn't cynical enough to think that meant nothing. He just wasn't naïve enough to think it meant everything either.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he took a sip from his glass. Around him, slot machines chimed, cards slapped against felt, and conversations rose and fell in waves. For one night, everyone was expected to play nice. Which, in his experience, usually made things far more interesting. His gaze drifted toward the nearest open seat before settling on whoever happened to be lingering nearby. "Tell me," he said casually, gesturing vaguely toward the crowd with his glass, "is it just me, or does this feel less like a celebration and more like everyone's waiting for somebody to do something stupid?" The smile that followed was easy and familiar. "Not that I'm complaining. Stupid people are usually how I make my money." He lifts his glass slightly in invitation. "So. What's your poison tonight? Gambling, drinking, people-watching, or are you one of those terrifying individuals actually here for the speeches?"
He was sucking dry the last of his scotch and beckoning a waitress for another, when he felt the air around him shift. Viktor did not acknowledge his presence right away, instead waited until until another drink had been pressed into his hands. It was only then that his eyes flickered to the left and regarded the stranger with a swift but stifling once over.
This wouldn't be difficult, he thought. Viktor was a fiend for a handsome man in a suit.
He leaned in a little closer, tossing his head with a burst of something soft and citrusy to lend an ear. He chuckled on cue. Nodded on cue. Everything was met was a gesture, tight as s blink or loose as an entire body recline. He was an ever moving collage, glittery as a dew laced mosaic.
"People-something, I suppose" Viktor said coyly, sipping at his scotch. His eyes raked across the stranger very pointedly, down and then up to linger a bit too long in a low, drawn out silence.
"Well-" Viktor began, his voice almost a whisper "-if this life of crime and punishment had taught me anything, it's that a person is smart but people are stupid." Viktor sighed, over extenuating the last word with a wry sort of glee that bled into the physical when he laughed, low and airy. "-All it takes is one young, hot blood to think someone is making a mockery of them, for this all to go to hell."
Viktor twisted toward him, sharp enough that all his perfectly quaffed golden curls bounced in tandem. "-shall we make a bet?" he gazed at the stranger, eyes big and blue as summer seas. Fathomless behind twin streaks of kohl. "-If someone hasn't busted someone else's nose by 10pm, I owe you a drink. Something top shelf-" Viktor leans in a little closer, teeth flashing white as a sharks "-I'll even let you choose."
The Lucky Coyote was one of the few places in the city where people could pretend the gangs weren't constantly one bad decision away from tearing each other apart. The illusion was almost impressive. Cards shuffled. Glasses clinked. Slot machines chimed endlessly in the background. People laughed. Money changed hands. And beneath it all sat an unspoken understanding that everybody in the building was armed, dangerous, and behaving only because the consequences of not behaving were significantly worse. Mia liked it. Or maybe liked wasn't the right word. Respected it, perhaps.
The mechanic sat at the far end of the bar, nursing a whiskey she'd barely touched. One elbow rested against the polished countertop while her attention drifted across the casino floor. Old habit. People-watching. Keeping track of exits. Noticing who arrived together and who pretended they hadn't. The place was full tonight. Representatives from every corner of the city. Enough tension packed into one room to start a war if somebody sneezed wrong. Mia found herself smirking. The whiskey burned pleasantly as she finally took a sip. The seat beside her scraped softly against the floor. She didn't look up. Not immediately. "You're either brave," she said finally, swirling the amber liquid in her glass, "or you've never been told it's rude to stare."
It had been the first thing Viktor had noticed about her, way back when they had first met over the raised hood of his shinny silver Porsche 911. Granted, it had been tied back behind her head then, but the pretty red curls, ombre and oil dipped that hung by her cheeks, had enchanted him.
Viktor had always liked a redhead.
He slid onto the stool beside her, hand resting on the bar to steady himself and on his pinky finger, an obnoxiously garish signet ring, set with an emerald, winked in the low fluorescent light.
He ignored her at first, the sharp cut of his jaw and side long angle of his face a very clear, very rude dismissal of her presence beside him. Viktor smiled at the bar tender, ordered a scotch on the rocks and it was only when it had been presented to him, already weeping with condensation, did he finally let his gaze flicker to the side. He regarded her with a sharp sort of silvery look, some raw heat but mostly a familiar, curious affection.
"Mia." His voice was low, a teasing sort of rumble that licked free past the wry smirk he now wore. He tutted, once and sharply. "-Oh come on, you look so beautiful how could I not be utterly enthralled."
Viktor turned ever so slightly to face her, but remained in a half lean against the back of the stool. He had adopted a cocky sort of slouch, legs half spread in his perfectly tailored Gaultier dress pants, shirt unbuttoned to an obscene degree. "-Let's start over." His gaze was a relentlessly piercing thing, flickering across her face in delight. "Can I buy you a drink?"
ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.
ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ ♫B A S I L E U S R E X♫
( sam reid, 38, cis male, he/him ) ⸻ hey, wait a second— i could swear that was VIKTOR KING that just walked past. don’t tell me you haven’t heard of the THE ACCOUNTANT of THE D'AMICO FAMILY? they’ve been a member for 8 YEARS and apparently they’re actually LOYAL, so make sure not to forget this time. i’ve heard they’re known as THE MIDAS, and i can tell you for sure that they’re CHARMING and HARD WORKING on a good day, but i don’t think you’d like to see them when they’re DRAMATIC and TEMPERAMENTAL. rumour has it that they LOST THEIR FIANCÉ IN A GANG HIT AND RUN, but i don’t know if anyone has ever lived long enough to confirm it. either way, most people would use MAMAMIA by MANESKIN to describe them, as well THREE PIECE TOM FORD SUITS HANGING IN NEAT ROWS, KISSES THAT TASTE LIKE CHARDONNAY AND MENTHOLS, THE FLASH OF WHITE TEETH AND BLONDE CURLS AS HE BRUSHES PAST YOU WITH A KNOCK TO THE SHOULDER. god only knows how they ended up here, but love them or hate them, they’re not going anywhere.
— 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝚰𝐂𝐒.
full name: Viktor Alain King
nicknames: Vik
age & birthday: Thirty Eight (November 9th)
gender identity & pronouns: Cis male & He/him
gang & role: The D'Amico Family & The Accountant
primary & secondary weapon: He's much more of a lover than a fighter, but he does carry a small, nondescript black pistol in his briefcase and has another in his desk drawer.
occupation ( if applicable ): Former Tech giant Corpo Lawyer, current Accountant for the D'Amico family
born: San Francisco, CA
past residence: San Francisco, Reno (for university), Las Vegas (previous job)
relationship with the family: He is estranged from his parents though hismother still attempts to contact him, he refuses to speak to her. His grandmother raised him from the age of 4 and the two were close. Her death devastated him.
pets: None
orientations: Pansexual (prefers men but honestly he'll fuck anyone once)
relationship status: Single
exes: Henry Abernathy (NPC), Cameron Marshal (NPC, Deceased)
— 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄.
face claim: Sam Reid
height: 6ft 1
build: Slim but with ropey muscles. A swimmers build.
eye colour: Pale Blue
hair colour: Blonde
style habits: He has both of his nipples pierced with gold bars, he wears a single gold hoops in both lobes and a gold cuff on his right ear. He known for wearing very expensive and smart suits at work, but is often seen out and about in his free time wearing more high fashion type looks. Aesthetics here and here.
tattoos: Nil.
scars: Nil.
— 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀.
positive traits: Intelligent, Charming, Hard working.
negative traits: Arrogant, Ruthless, Dramatic.
primary vice: greed
primary Virtue: Fortitude
label: The Midas
aesthetics: Early morning sunlight filtering through floor to ceiling glass, the seedy underbelly of a club bathed in purple and blue neon, the push and pull of a sloppy makeout in a dingy club bathroom, the hawk like intensity in which he takes notes in meetings, an iron hard glance over a pair of gold horn rim glasses, a black coffee drank on a sun soaked balcony, a line of coke split in half to share with a pretty boy that looks like him, the smiling face of a long lost love that he keeps shoved in the back of a drawer encase he thinks too hard about what happened, a glass of shiraz and a hole in his heart too big to fill again.
fears:
habits: He purses his lips and grinds his teeth when he's frustrated or upset, lots of hand gestures when he talks.
hobbies: Reading, early morning swims, runs in the evening, bluegrass music (it reminds him of Cameron), he's an avid violin and piano player.
mbti type: ENTJ "The Commander"
moral alignment: Lawful Evil
character parallels: Lestat De Lioncourt (TVC), Astarion (Baldur’s Gate 3), Dorian Pavus (Dragon Age), Shiv Roy (Succession), Ilithyia (Spartacus), Cersei Lannister (Game of Thrones), The Countess (AHS Hotel).
— 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝚰𝐂𝐀𝐋.
disorders: He defo has some sort of narcissistic personality disorder but he's never been diagnosed.
allergies: None
sleeping habits: If he isn't straight up passing out after a night of partying, its the exact opposite. He's in his pj's, glasses on, hair mask in, laptop on his lap to do some last min work stuff and then he's asleep for 9.30
exercise habits: Despite his hedonistic habits, Vik is am avid fan of exercise and is bordering on weird about it. He's sort of in the mindset of "well if i go out running and swimming every day, i can do whatever the fuck else I want." He religiously goes for a 40 min swim EVERY morning in his buildings pool (has he done this hungover/still high? absolutely!), and tries to do at MINIMUM 15 thousand steps a day. He also eats REALLY well, he's a berry and nut kinda guy.
drug use: He's a social coke user. Again, mostly at parties or clubs 2-3 times a week.
alcohol use: Social drinker. Mostly at parties and clubs, but is known to enjoy a whiskey on the rocks or a glass of merlot with his dinner.
smoking habits: Smokes menthols, hates e-cigs. If you're gonna fuck up your lungs, he says, at least do it properly.
— 𝐇𝚰𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘.
Viktor was born in San Francisco to Adam and Adeline King, two well known bohemian/hippie types who lived of the dwindling inheritance Adeline's dead father left her. They did not take much to do with their son, usually too busy attending vaguely cult like seminars and desert retreats to worry about a kid.
Viktor was often left alone as a baby and as a very young child, eventually his grandmother became involved when she realised just how often her grandson was being abandoned. Sylvia Aupaire was a strict, but overtly glamorous woman that Viktor adored, who lived in a lavish apartment in the heart of the city. Viktor went to the best schools, ate the best food, and grew up wanting for very little.
Viktor met Henry Abernathy when he was 14 and by the time they were 17, they were dating. Henry was a quiet but handsome boy that Viktor had flirted with and teased mercilessly until Henry had kissed him hard in Pioneer park about it.
Henry came from a very wealthy family, and was adamant that his father could not find out about them. Viktor agreed and their relationship became a clandestine one, were they met mostly at his grandmothers apartment, or out in public. This continued for 2 years.
Viktor was 19 and just about to start studying law at CSU, when Henrys father paid him a visit. Mr Abernathy was over 20 years his senior and offered Viktor a cool few million and a free place with a guaranteed job at one of the largest Tech companies in America upon graduation, if he agreed to stay away from Henry forever.
24 hours previously, Viktor had sat with Henry on the very sofa his father now occupied, and told him he loved him. Now, he was taking money from his lovers father. The night ended with Viktor on his belly and Mr Abernathys hand in his hair.
Viktor couldn’t quite figure out which was the worst part. The fact that he so willingly took a bribe from his boyfriends father, or the fact that he fucked him afterward and liked it.
The next morning, Viktor was being driven to the airport to catch a flight to Reno, where he would begin his studies. He cut contact with Henry and has not seen him since. There were phone calls and letters for the first few months but eventually, nothing but radio silence followed.
Upon graduation, Viktor moved to Las Vegas and began working for a Tech Giant company as per the deal Mr Abernathy gave him. He excelled there. Charming enough to work his way up the pay roll and ruthless enough to win cases in the court room.
Viktor became one of the meanest Corpo lawyers going, and was earning more money than he knew what to do with. But he was greedy and there were inklings of the company going bust. Viktor jumped ship before things started to get really bad and almost predictably, 6 months later the company had declared bankruptcy and Viktor was of the hook.
He moved to coyote’s rest around the same time and caught the eye of the D'Amico family. He was suave and charming, annoying as a wasp, but good at his job. Viktor was a numbers guy, able to make money appear and disappear with ease. He kept track of debts with a pin prick precision that was, honestly, a little terrifying. The D'Amico's have given him a job and were paying him alot of money, and he was not about to fuck it up.
It was in coyote’s rest that Viktor met and eventually fell in love with a young man named Cameron, a small town Virginia native who had moved to Nevada for an acting gig. Cameron was sweet and kind and a lot better than Viktor deserved, considering the status of his previous relationship. Viktor had been so happy with him. They were together for about 4 years and about to be married before Cameron was killed in a hit a run.
Viktor was devastated and poor Cameron’s sudden death unlocked something dangerous in him. He threw himself into his work, spent long hours keeping track of money in an out of the families coffers, gave dangerous instructions to enforcers about retrieving debts. He was like a man possessed.
Viktor doesn't know which of the other gangs was responsible for Cameron's death. He can't seem to get a straight answer out of anyone. Members of the D'Amico family he has asked for help can't seem to get the story straight, and anyone they press for details always has a different story. Viktor can feel himself going slowly mad. He needs answers before he goes of the rails completely.
Now, Viktor lives in a sort of semi limbo. He works incredably hard, usually the first one in the office and the last to leave at night, but he’s also living an incredibly hedonistic lifestyle to try and cope with everything that's happened. Ask him if he's fine and the answer will always be yes, because he's not about to start opening up to anyone ever again.
A fiend for drink, drugs and casual hook ups, if Viktor isn’t finding an extra few thousand grand for his bosses, he’s usually doing a line in a hotel room off a valets abs before kissing a cocktail waitress about it.
— 𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒.
He’s a right handed Scorpio, who likes a good pistachio based pastry and thinks rock music is just the fucking worst. He listens to alot of classical, blue grass and foreign pop.
His teeth are perfect, 0 fillings and 0 issues EVER. He’s very smug about it
He drinks red wine and anything whiskey based, but does enjoy a nice bottle of very cold champagne sometimes. His go to his a glass of ice water and a black coffee though.
His mother and Grandmother were French, so he speaks it fluently and spoke it exclusively with his grandmother when he lived with her, he is currently trying (and failing) at studying German.
His favourite colours are Blue, Silver and White
He recently holidayed in Italy, spending 2 weeks on the Amalfi coast, which he thoroughly enjoyed. He’s thinking about buying a villa in Sorrento.
He has worn his hair long since he was 15. This man is also waxed from the eyebrows DOWN.
He has a thing for muscles and long necks. He likes brunette women and men that look like him.
His eye sight is terrible and while he usually wears contacts, he’s getting older now and sometimes just cba putting them in, so he has a collection of very trendy horn rimmed specs to use if he needs to.
Despite his VERY hedonistic lifestyle, on and of again drug habit and smoking like a train, Viktor does take fairly good care of himself. He works out, is an avid swimmer and when he does eat, its usually quite healthy.
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