NAME: Roman Baranovsky.
AGE: 34.
PLACE OF BIRTH: Launceston, Massachusetts, United States.
AFFILIATION: The Russian Mob.
OCCUPATION: Loyalist.
FACE CLAIM: Richard Madden.
AVAILABILITY: TAKEN.
That’s all he’d been to them back then. The silent little boy, who would sit and watch as the children his mother played nanny to squeezed into their tiny living room.
‘He’s just shy. Look at him hiding behind his mother!’
‘Maybe he doesn’t speak English yet…’
It was true that aged seven, after being uprooted by his mother from their home of Chelyabinsk, he didn’t speak any English; nor did he particularly want to learn, for that matter. Even when the children switched to his native Russian in an attempt to engage, Roman remained rooted in his corner, quietly observing the scenes unfolding. They called themselves Russians, and yet to him, they were Americans—with their awful English, foreign attitudes, and customs that were worlds away from home.
It seemed unfair to place all of the blame for their abrupt move on his mother, though. Roman’s older brother Vlad, who’d moved to the States to pursue a college education, had been the one to encourage them to follow. As it turned out, however, he hadn’t really gone to school at all; instead aligning himself with a bunch of Russian mobsters. ‘I’m living the dream!’ Was the phrase he so often used on the rare occasions they received his letters. The phrase that eventually, with some coaxing on his part, convinced his mother that starting a new life in Launceston would be the best decision she ever made.
Funnily enough, he never mentioned that all the money he’d earned to afford them the move had been attained by criminal means…
School was, perhaps, the worst part of his new life in America. In the same way he couldn’t and didn’t want to communicate with the children his mother made a living looking after, those in class were a struggle, too. For years, Roman made no efforts to learn English or to pay attention to any friendly advances. Instead, quickly earning the ‘weird kid’ reputation, he found a corner at the back of the room and spent his time wondering how different things would be if he was still in Russia. If his dad had never left them. If Vlad had just stayed in Chelyabinsk like he had begged him to.
Brenton was rough. Russian or not, if you showed weakness, they picked at it until you unravelled for fun. Roman had never needed to be violent before, but when the bullying from his peers got too much to handle–even for someone as cool and reserved as him–he had lashed out in a way he hadn‘t even realized he was capable of. He’d smashed the kid’s head into the concrete until he was unconscious. To his surprise? Despite the beating he’d got for his troubles, during that moment, when he’d finally taken a stand against them, they seemed to almost respect it.
They respected him even more when the realised just who he was related to.
It hadn’t dawned on Roman that his brother could’ve been anything other than a low-level mobster running the errands that others didn’t want to waste their time with. Nobody he’d ever known had ever amounted to anything, especially not in their family. Roman didn’t know what it was like to have a last name that was looked at with anything other than pity, or to live safe with the knowledge that his brother’s reputation meant nobody would dare touch them. Vlad had dragged himself to the top, well aware that if he didn’t make it in Launceston, he was never going to make it anywhere else.
Whether their mother liked to admit it or not, they both had a lot to thank him for.
Most of the population of Brenton was either a mobster themselves, knew somebody who was, or knew somebody who knew somebody…and that was just the way things were. Roman had notably few friends, but every single one was connected in one way or another. It seemed that with his brother’s reputation looming overhead and his friendships that would make the transition easy, turning to the Russians himself was the most obvious choice for his future.
It was almost as though the Baranovsky boys were made for a life like this.
Roman took to Brenton’s streets with an ease that could fool his opponents into thinking he’d come from a family with connections generations deep. The resemblance to his brother was astounding; particularly when it came to their brutality. Still, he rarely spoke in his broken English. Rarely socialised with the gang outside of those in his crew her truly trusted. Rarely left his home for anything but work. He remained solitary, and most dared not try to coax him out of it. Roman took a calm, calculated approach to most situations he encountered, but it didn’t take long for people to note that on the rare occasions he was pushed beyond his limits, he was a raging animal that sometimes even Maria could not control.
Still, as the years passed and he garnered the respect of those higher up the chain, Roman could never quite escape the shadow his infamous brother cast.
No part of him resented Vlad for that; especially not when so much of what he earned went to taking care of their aging mother. To trying to make their lives better like he’d always promised. The man was his icon. He practically worshiped the ground he walked on. But as was human nature, sometimes even he could have gone without being recognised as Vlad’s brother first, and for his own contributions second.
Even though he never would have imagined being able to leave his brother and mother behind, when Roman was approached by Aviv Kasyanenko about the matter personally, he found it hard to come up with reasons not to accept the relocation to London. Launceston had grown monotonous in its endless gore and cycles of revenge killing. The connections he had outside of his family were minimal, and those he did have all seemed to be headed across the ocean, too. After striking up a particularly poor reputation for bludgeoning Sovrani Mafia loyalists with his bare hands, moving to a city where they were not also seemed like a sensible step toward some self preservation.
The choice to depart may have upset his mother, but Roman can only hope that the life he one day makes in London will make her half as proud as the one Vlad made for them in Launceston.
The Baranovsky name might not have meant anything before her two sons, but he would ensure it still meant something when they were gone.
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single.
FAMILY: Vladimir Baranovsky (brother, unplayable)
CONNECTIONS:
Maria Novichkova: Best friend. Even with the other Russians he considers friends, Roman rarely talks about himself or his family. Nobody but Maria has any real insight into the man and not the mobster, and that’s the way he would prefer it stays. If she hadn’t come to London, he would have probably stayed in Launceston, but there is no way he could let her fight in their new war against the French without having her back. There is nobody outside of his family he has ever respected more.
Hila Dayan: Good friend. Though he would have laughed at the idea before meeting Hila a decade ago, apparently, opposites really do attract. Whilst he is quiet and stoic, and she is an obnoxious party animal, they can at least bond over their penchant for violence. Roman appreciates her company in the way he does few others. Whilst sometimes even he might find her personality grating, though, if anybody else were to comment on it, he’d break their fucking legs.
Andrei Baryshnikov: Good friend. Like Maria, Roman has known Andrei since his school years, and considers him one of his closest allies. Whilst he’s glad his friend has accompanied them to London, he can’t help but feel slightly disappointed that he’s decided to take more of a business route than joining them on the streets. Roman always felt a little safer knowing that Andrei had his back in a fight.
