BAŠI

[Full, Official Name ~ Saul Volkov.
Nickname/Alias ~ None especially, though given his only living relative is his nephew; Uncle, would be one.
Specie ~ Humanoid.
Years of Age ~ 39, he is getting on in life, though still has his health and fitness for obvious reasons.
Gender of Choice ~ Male.
Biological Sex ~ Male.
Sexuality ~ Well, why don't you ask him? It's certain he'll give you quite the demonstration... ]

PERSONALI

[Personality ~ This male is not one to speak. He's a silent monster with a figurative demon hanging over his back; following him wherever his devices may take him. He's gruesome, sadistic, and darkly charming when he dares to open his mouth and speak with that manipulative, Russian accent he was born with. His voice is like a velvety purr, and this is how he would have enticed his victims. In his lifetime, he has killed several men and women, and although not proven, it is most probable he molested them. He is devious, nasty, and a character that is not to be messed with. It would be best to remain on his good side - if he has one.
Abilities ~ none of the supernatural sort except of course added strength, skill, agility and intelligence due to his robotic body and mind ~
Birthplace ~ Mother Russia. Although technically, a science laboratory.
Birthdate ~ He's not all too sure, given he doesn't have the file work on his making and never exactly had his birthday celebrated.
Past Occupancy ~ Russia, he spent most his years there, and still frequently visits.
Current Occupancy ~ Wherever his interests may take him. ]

DEHRA

[Humane Appearance ~ Saul's hair resembles a flickering flame in its dark orange consistency; waves of lighter red, and darker brown running throughout it whist it is scruffily brushed backwards into a loose, unkempt, but attractive mess. His eyes are a magnificent blue that frankly, are enough to send shivers down the strongest of spines. His jaw is sharp, his cheeks high and his plump lips folded into a permanent scowl. His bodily form rolls with muscle, and with his height of seven foot and two inches, he proves to be an especially dominant male indeed.
Under-form Appearance ~ Scattered across his metallic body in a messily painted way is the experiment number Saul was given; 306, he was neither the first, and most definitely not the last. '306' was his given name for a while, until he was of course granted humane features and capabilities. Then, he was named Saul. His bodily form consists of black, and a rusty sort of red that is mainly placed where his vital organs would be. The rusty red is copper, which is an excellent conductor, being as this metal is placed above where his heart normally would lay, the copper will act as a warmth in its place - insinuating humanity, and life. ]

AKATAR PROFONDA

[Background ~ For a few years, the science laboratory where he was created, however afterwards, the family he was sent to live with. Which of course, later were suspected to be murdered.
Backstory ~ A long, gruesome tale, that you just don't need to hear.
Known Family ~ All are six feet under. Strangely, they disappeared over the course of a year. This is, of course, except for his lovely nephew whom he cherishes dearly.
Likings ~ Saul's likes, and dislikes, are the same as normal people, except... flipped, the opposite way. He likes what you fear, he adores what makes you scream, and, he just loves to watch your eyes roll back into your head, and your last breath whisper away from you.
Dislikes ~ Once again, what many people enjoy, he hates. Children, flowers, marriage... he does like animals, though, which is thing that can be related to sane people.
Love-Life ~ None-existent, really, Saul lacks an obvious sense of loyalty and in his psychopathic ways, doesn't really take the time to care for a person. He woos them with his trickery, and then he kills them. Simple, really. ]

INSIGHT ~

"So, darling, how is your meal?" the male opposite you would ask with a charming smile flashing through his dark lips, his own dish of food cleared with his now dirtied knife and fork laid upon the plate mannerly, "I must say, I enjoyed it. However...there is something else that has been occupying my mind tonight..."

He would trail this off suggestively, though would say no more, instead, standing up to take your and his plate through into the back so he may retrieve the dessert of the homey date. This would give you time to sit back and relax, most probably with a smile on your face as you would reminisce the charming ways of your attractive date, or so, you would think.

Upon Saul returning, you would not be greeted by a sweet treat in the physical form, but more so...in a pleasurable way. Your date's lips would latch onto your neck as he would suck on your delicate throat, his hand snaking around the chair you sat on to where he would gentle begin to grope you, "Would you like to come to bed with me?".

Your answer to this would not especially matter, as nonetheless, Saul would pick you up in his broad arms and practically throw you into the room of the motel he was currently renting. He would press up close to you now, removing your shirt and cupping your ass shamelessly. You were his, now, and he planned on taking you in more ways than one.

Saul would prop you up on a dresser, moving his head down to trail hot kisses along your chest to which your back would arch inwards and your head throw back. However, your pleasure would be short lived and soon you would feel an agonizing splitting of your lower stomach. Looking down, your torso would be gushing with blood, the root of your problems being a screwdriver which your once handsome date would have stabbed brutishly into you.

He would still be smiling, hushing your cries and sobs with taunting shakes of his head, "All that goes up, must come down, my dear," he whispered this as black splotches would begin to cover your eyesight, "We had fun, hmm? I do think I'll be having so much more with you lifeless though...give in to the darkness, this is a mercy for you, you won't feel all the dreadful things I'm about to do to your succulent little fleshy body...". The last thing you would see and hear would be the Russian before you chuckling whilst twisting the tool around inside of you; slowly, but surely, you would slump back against the wall and fall into your eternal slumber, "Sleep tight, /YN/.".