Gender: Female

Kit: Normal

Location: Amursk, Khabarovsk Krai, Russia


Alignment: Villain

Team: The Syndicate


Strength: weak (rank 0)

Agility: standard (rank 1)

Mind: standard (rank 1)

Body: weak (rank 0)

Spirit: (rank )

Charisma: (rank )


Infamy Points: 0

Personal Wins: 31

Personal Losses: 33

Team Wins: 0

Team Losses: 0

Tourney Wins: 0

Tourney Losses: 0


Status: Disabled


She looks out her window to the morning sun. She knows that it is such a beautiful day as Marzanna puts on her morning bathrobe and walks down stairs to make coffee. As she heads into the kitchen, she notices someone who is already waiting for her in the kitchen. He sits calmly in her chair with a cup of coffee in one hand and a glock pistol pointed directly at her chest.

Marzanna ignores the gentleman with the gun as she notices the two cups of coffee with no coasters underneath her table. "Good morning Agent Dawson. I see that you already made coffee for us. All these years with the bureau and you’re still just getting people coffee?" Marzanna asks placing a pair of coasters under the cups of coffee.

Dawson smiles and replies back. "This coming from a green haired assassin who kills most people for free favors? Oh, and good morning to you to. Please...have a seat and some coffee." Marzanna sits in her chair and drinks the coffee that is placed in front of her. "A little cream and two scoops of sugar. That is how you take it, am I right?"

Marzanna leans in and smiles as she puts down her coffee and brushes her long green hair back. "You certainly know everything there is to know about me." Marzanna replies in a calm tone ignoring the fact that Dawson is still armed.

"Except for really are. You have made quite a name for yourself in the criminal underworld. From killing third world dictators in the Middle East, to assassinating A-list celebrities in the States. Tell me something Marz, before I take you in, I was curious as to how it all began? Surely there's a story behind all of this bloodshed as to why you do what you do." Dawson asks as he takes a sip from his cup and continues to aim his gun at her.

"There is." As Marzanna looks down into the reflection of her cup and averts her eyes back at Dawson. "But you will not like how the story ends." Dawson gives off a little smug look as Marzanna begins her story. "I guess it started after I turned thirteen. Like any other teenager, I had friends, spread gossips to others around school, and I even had my first crush on a boy in history class. But that life died the moment I came home to see my parents dead in the living room. My father had owed money to the wrong people and, as a result, they paid for it with their lives. But it wasn't enough for the loan sharks, because when I found my parent's bodies, the mob took me as a form of payment. After a week had passed they sold me as a prostitute. You would think that your first time would be something magical, but not in my case. My first time was a pot bellied customer who used every disgusting act to his sick imagination. I tried to fight him off, but he was too big and strong while I was to small and frail at the time. Fighting it was impossible to do, so I let him finish." Marzanna sits there as she looks into Dawson’s eyes without even a hint of sorrow while taking another sip from her cup.


Dawson continues to remain silent as he continues aim his gun at Marzanna and listens to the rest of her story.

Marzanna looks away and back at Dawson. "After my first time I knew my only my out of that hell was to prove my usefulness outside the bedroom. I became compliant with my second customer to the point where he turned his back and I castrated him with a pair of scissors that I had found on the night stand. I continued to stab him, for several minutes, in a completely bliss state. At that point, I knew that I was about to die and just didn’t care, because I would rather die a bloody violent death than be someone else’s discarded sex doll. As my pimp came inside the room, he pulled out his gun and wanted to kill me. But that did not happen as I grew red with anger, lunged at him, and stabbed him repeatedly in the throat and in the chest. My blind fury of rage caught the attention of another customer. His name was Cyrus Yaiyakov.”

“I never heard of him before,” Dawson says.

“He was a mid-level mob boss who mostly did drug and firearm trades.” Marzanna answered as she begins to finish her story. “He saw what I did and was interested in the rage in my eyes and the corpses that I had just left in my wake. Afterwards, he took me in and started me on the path to becoming the assassin I am today."

"But something tells me that this was only the beginning." Dawson replied as he uses his free hand to finish off the last of the coffee in his cup.

"Indeed it was Agent Dawson." Marzanna replied. As she gets up from her chair, Dawson pulls back the trigger in preparation for the unexpected. Marzanna raises her hands as she points over to the cabinet. Dawson gestures his hand, letting her walk over to the cabinet and grabs an empty bowl and a box of cereal. After making her cereal, she sits back down in her chair while crossing her legs. "Everything else you know by now is where my new life started to takeoff. Would you like some more coffee?”


A View to a Kill

     Marksman: standard (rank 1)


Dawson shakes his head as he asks Marzanna a question to continue her story. "So I take it was Yaiyakov who taught you how to become the marksman?"

Marzanna nods again as she gulps down her cereal. "As a matter of fact, he taught me everything I needed to know when it comes to firearms. After I was adopted into his family he treated me like a second daughter, but with a touch of prodigy. I excelled in everything that he taught me including one of the easiest ways to kill a person, using a gun. Over the years, I learned about a lot of firearms; like the Ingram Mac-10, AK-47, the Saiga 12, 9mm, the TEC-9, etc. You name it; odds are that I have killed someone with that type gun and with almost superb accuracy."


Bullets are a Girl's Best Firend

     Piercing Weapon: superior (rank 2)

  • Ranged Attack
  • Long Ranged Attack
  • Multi-Attack


"How about the Beretta 98 pistol?" Says Dawson pulling out pictures of a man being shot in the head several times. "Captain-Lieutenant Ivan Rascalov, one of your first contract kills from eight years ago. You were just about 20-years-old at the time. The detective's said that shooting a well known military officer in public, in the middle of broad daylight, was next to impossible without being seen."

Marzanna chuckles and covers her mouth. "'Next to impossible?' Please Dawson, that was a cake walk. And besides, that kill gave me my first part time job."

"Indeed it was." As Dawson continues with the story. "Ever since then the assassin, with no name, decided to give herself one...Marzanna. Otherwise known in Russian mythology as the Slavic goddess of death."

Marzanna smiles and replies back to Dawson. "And it still does have a nice ring to it."


Self-Defense without Weapons

     Martial Arts: standard (rank 1)


"Guns are not the only thing that's deadly coming from you. There's also your special hand-to-hand combat training." Dawson replied as he continues with Marzanna's story.

Marzanna takes another sip of coffee and finishes up her cereal. "Yaiyakov had a partner who used to be a lieutenant, in the Soviet Red Army, who he taught me the art of both fist fighting and Sambo. It is a form of martial arts in Russia that has three different styles which I have mastered. Although, I have to admit, Combat Sambo took a little longer because my trainer kept breaking right arm until I got some of his moves correctly. But it was worth it; after all it does come in handy from time to time."

"Like when you assassinated Senator Bingham at the US Embassy, in Paris, three years ago?" Dawson says pulling out more pictures of dead bodies. "You posed as an American intern and, when you were close enough, snapped his neck. But after you were spotted, you managed to kill four more security guards and injured 5 more along the way. Each injury includes broken arms and legs at the joint of their limbs."

"What can I say?" Marzanna replied with a smile, "I enjoy making grown men cry like little bitches. Care to try it, Agent Dawson?"


Russian Barre

     Acrobat: standard (rank 1)


Dawson smirks, in a sarcastic way, as he points his finger at her. "Nice try Marz. You always knew how to push a guy's buttons just to get them riled up and loose their focus."

Marzanna smiles with glee as she moves her empty bowl aside. "Except for yours, which is one of the reasons why I did not kill you back in New York four months ago. You seem like a very interesting man, dedicating your career to one woman."

"As I recall, it was the FBI that prevented you from killing me." Dawson says humoring Marzanna, "When that SWAT team stormed the rooftop they were about to apprehend you. But without any effort you jumped off of that building and if it weren't for those aerobic moves that you pulled off, down the fire escape, we would have had you right then and there"

"It wasn't 'aerobics.' It was for special form of Russian gymnastics. Another one of Yaiyakov’s people who hired a coach St. Petersbug to teach me how to keep my body balanced. It also comes in handy in my fights or, in your case, escaping the FBI by climbing down those fire escapes." As Marzanna finishes her sentence, she gets up and starts to walk up the stairs. Dawson notices this and rushes next to Marzanna with his gun now aimed at her waist.


Cut to the Chase

     Slashing Weapon: standard (rank 1)

  • Ranged Attack


"Just where do you think you’re going?" Dawson asks.

Marzanna smiles and replies back, "I'm going to get changed. Surely you don't want to arrest me in my bathrobe; otherwise people may start to talk about us." Dawson follows right behind Marzanna as they walk up the stairs and into her room. Marzanna is about to remove her bathrobe, but stops to see Agent Dawson still watching her like a hawk. "You think I can get a little privacy please?"

"I'm not falling for that one," Dawson says continuing to watch over her. Marzanna rolls back her eyes, drops her bathrobe, and starts to put her clothes on. While Marzanna continues to get dressed, Dawson looks over to see a mini bo-kri throwing knife on her night stand. "I see you still have a thing for these little knives."

"Oh yeah, I love to use these babies as a last resort in case the whole job goes to sh*t." Marzanna replied as she continues to get dressed. "The bo-kri's are lightweight, very concealable, sharp enough to penetrate vital parts of the human body, and I can throw up to a set of three every time."

"Your adopted father taught you that?" Dawson asks Marzanna as he places the knife back on the nightstand.

"Not really, knives were more of a personal hobby of mine. Something about the sound of flesh cutting open always makes me feel...turned on." Marzanna says as she winks at Dawson after finally finishing getting dressed. As the two are about to leave the bedroom, Dawson notices Marzanna pulling out a small knife from her belt. Dawson quickly unloads two rounds, but the bullets miss the assassin as she throws her knife striking the agent’s wrist. As Dawson drops his gun, Marzanna rushes across the room, picks up his gun, and knocks him on the nightstand with his own gun pointed directly at his face. “It’s just like I said before a personal hobby.”