New Character Bio – Chekhov

PREVIOUS: Updated Character Bio – Jade
NEXT: Mission 01 – Reboot

Character: Chekhov
Race: Ork
Specialties: Magical Healer, Magical Support, Shapeshifter (Magical)
Played By: Edan

Chekhov is a new character to the group. He is played by the same individual who ran Levi in the first season, choosing to retire his character at the end of the campaign and create a new one for the second.

Chekhov fills a somewhat similar role to that of Levi, providing medical aid and magical support for the team. He is a somewhat gruff Russian, uncertain of the individuals whom he finds himself with now, but quickly growing to trust them. Contrasting sharply with Levi, is his much more good natured personality when he relaxes with the team and his more selfless nature. While he is new to the established team, he has quickly found a home for himself and earned a greater level of trust and acceptance than Levi ever managed.

Below is Chekhov’s character bio, how it is he wound up in the same situation as the rest of the group and a little bit of wrap up for Levi’s story.


Chekhov was the son of a Vory. A particularly notable Vory, who had particular expectations for a son.

Chekhov was not the boy he expected. Though he grew up in a world at the peak of organized crime, his interests panned towards art, animals and magic. His father would become annoyed when he would toss quips and metaphors using the traits of beasts.

One day, he found Chekhov’s stash of literature, which unfortunately did not consist of ballet or homosexual pornography. Instead, there were mounds of fictions and non fictions concerning druids and spiritual guides, people of the forest, speaking to animals… a whole mess of ridicules material meant for children.

His father was not partial to any of this, particularly his attraction towards shamanism, which he deemed superstitious and barbaric magic. He tried to persuade Chekhov towards learning the more academic magics, in an attempt to humor his interests. Tutoring him with skilled magi, the only spell for a great time that Chekhov took interest in really learning was the one to force orgasms.

It wasn’t until Chekhov met Boe that his real skills developed. Boe was a member of a developing movement, one praising the truths of nature and the spirit and discouraging the destruction of the world. Not entirely the same as the hippies, but similar.

More innocent, at first, the movement was absorbed into the activities of a larger movement. Chekhov began finding himself involved in more and more questionable activities, ones he bent his magical studies in supporting. His friend worked his way into something of a street organizer, but Chekhov himself kept a more observational relationship with the group, picking up knowledge and experience where he could.

Being capable and respected was a new found experience for him, and it led Chekhov to leave home and explore this underworld of activity he had uncovered. Chekhov didn’t mind getting involved in less than reputable activities, so long as he didn’t become too tied down.

Dreams and ideas for how things might change are the backbone for what he does, though what they are is any one’s guess. Such agendas cost money and he has expanded his horizons and utility to accommodate that.


Levi was not especially pleased to be directing the capture of his team. Affection had no seat in this equation of reluctance; instead, it was the troublesome loss of a working relationship. He’d have to get to know new people now and get over that minor impulsive hump he has whenever new people come into his life; the one to slit their throats open and fill the screaming gouge with paint.

The group and himself often conflicted, but at least it was openly about cruel, cleansing murder or unnecessary amputation or organ removal. He could curl back his lips around them when he grit his teeth, and not fear the violent backlash one might expect from a subject strapped to a polished steel table.

It wasn’t a habit of Levi’s to be under any one’s thumb, but the Johnson that messaged him today had a firm hold. Being perhaps the only man alive to know about Levi’s past was merely an introduction to it all. The man knew full well what artifact Levi’s team recently carried before anyone else did, and simply didn’t bother to get involved, despite its near pricelessness.

Rather, when all was said and done, Levi’s benefactor issued him a single order: “Prepare your team for collection.” Levi didn’t bother to ask why. If this man wanted them, the kindest thing he could do would be to avoid a gunfight. Chemicals and trust were two things his fellow Shadowrunners allowed him to carry around, and it would be to their dismay. Unfortunate, but such is the business of a contractor.

Levi’s hands stuffed themselves deep into his coat pockets, what little shame he had bottled up in them. His sedated comrade’s feet sketched a trail to a van, before the whole of them were thrust into the back. It was almost surreal how casually it happened, and how little care anyone took towards it.

Here one day, gone the next; Levi was no stranger to the indifference of this day and age, yet somehow he found himself questioning some internal pause. The moment was brief, a tiny window where he might feel something human, and was interrupted by another message on his comm link.

“An animal is always true to his nature. I need one more person from you, with a few requirements. Have anyone in mind?”

Levi scoffed, the gust punching through air with angry steam. He skimmed through the list as it came through. The requirements were simple enough; rolls he could easily fill himself.

Doubtless, he wasn’t about to volunteer.

Instead, Levi’s thoughts drifted to a previous mission he had been discretely following the developments of. In the course of his search, he became aware of another tail following the same subject. As is Levi’s way, the shadow became more interesting than the meat.

It would seem good doctor did, indeed, have someone in mind.

The laboratory space was little more than a celebrated garage. A tan and blue-accented paint job leftover from some previous decade, and the whole of it had that empty cafeteria smell of dusty ventilation and lazy sanitation. The cement floor could only barely house all of the extraordinary, expensive-looking equipment, which transformed the dull edges of the room into an erratic jungle of undefinable gadgetry.

Thin metal trees coiled with wire vines towards exotic, blooming flowers of controls and screens. Ghost lines of white bent around glass flasks and vials, playing silent audience to the technological theater. Today, the metal platform at the room’s center was modified with heavy restraints and wheel-in equipment backdrops. A wide girth was awarded between it and the gates in. Tonight this stage was meant for two.

A pair of scientists escorted in the first actor. Both double doors opened to their fullest, allowing the subject’s cage to pass. Within the confines of its steel bars, a heavy, black shadow of a creature waited calmly. You could make out two slits for eyes, and a flat snout for a nose. In proper light, its grizzly shape becomes apparent. It is a bear.

“Now, you do what we say, and have no fuss, and you can see your friends, alright?” A nazely voice came from the senior of the two scientists. The lab coat did little to disguise his truer nature, which one might mistake for a giant grub worm. His assistant was much younger, and looked to be pretending not to mind a horrendous smell.

The bear, which the white-coat had addressed directly, did not seem to mind. In fact, he was the spitting image of calm. With a nod of its head and the raise of its maw, it responded. “I will be a good bear.”

“Such a good bear. Amazing,” said the younger man, working at unfastening the latches of the cage, “You are quite an amazing creature, do you know that?”

“Thank you.” The bear said with a nod. His gaze remained forward, noble and peaceful. The older scientist grinned. He had a chipped tooth.

“Now, follow us into the corner here, until we’re ready for you.” the senior coat cracked. The bear nodded to him, allowing himself to be taken by leash from the cage, and waded carefully to a small clearing prepared to the side of the steel platform. The younger man praised him as one might a dog.

The bear sat still in his corner of the room while the two scientists wheeled out the cage. He was a statue on display, and remained so for the minute it took for his two escorts to return. However incompetent it was of these men to leave a grizzly in this room alone, even if it talked, it had yet to trouble them. They had a second cage now, bearing a fully muzzled and restrained beast, shackled from head to foot. It’s fur was snow white, and its posture was just as reserved as the grizzly.

The younger man cleared his throat several times, flipping with some difficulty through project paperwork hanging from the side. “This is odd. The boys from downstairs have the Panda scheduled for the cataloging, and the grizzly for cognitive comparison. The grizzly is the talker, though.”

The older man gargled a chuckle. “Someone’s head’s gonna roll. I almost want to go ahead with what’s on paper and weed out the trash. I bet its the admin’s nephew again.”

The boy wore his disgust on his maw, and made no effort to hide it. The senior only smirked at him, the way a child does who has proudly shit his pants, before setting to work in unchaining the panda. The boy’s demeanor was not all so different as it was towards the grizzly, cooing instructions and complimenting the beast.

The panda allowed its collar to be lassoed to a chain and its body escorted out of the cage to the floor without any fuss, seemingly to command. Both men were pleasantly surprised at the obedience of the creature, its sense of direction bordering on sentient. The darker bear, however, was not impressed, and merely watched in silence as they swapped muzzles on the beast.

While diodes and restraints were further added, decorating its white fur like a Christmas tree, the senior white-coat bolted a pat on the animal’s neck. “Such a good boy, I’m glad we didn’t have to open YOU up,” he whispered, grouching it out so the grizzly could not hear, “Unless you decide to start talking too.”

At this, the head of the panda cocked to the side, locking eyes with the old man. He feared, for a moment, the beast might speak, yet the blank animal expression soothed his doubt. Just as the man began to creep a grin over it, the panda opened its mouth.


It was not an uncommon sound for any bear to make, panda or grizzly; However, it was an odd word for a bear to simply STATE. The hearts of the coated men stopped somewhere in their jackets, and never had time to start up again; Their shadows had come together as one, and at its crown was the head of a grizzly.

The panda backed away from the mess of coats on the floor, stains of red and marks of claw abound. In her eyes was the confusion of a child, mouth ajar almost laughably. “They’re wet!” she shouts, pawing at them and falling back. Se does this a few times before daring to use her nose. The eyes of the grizzly are calm, watchful and understanding, between their frame of blood-matted fur.

“It is just dirty water,” the darker bear speaks, control in his voice, “It is not good to drink. Come now, Tai Lun. Let’s go.”

“Raah!” the sound comes as truthfully as the Panda can muster. She had just been witness to one of her kind attacking a man, something she had been instructed never to do. The good man had told her so many times it was wrong to be mean to others. Yet, witnessing a brother’s paws shredding skin tickled something in a long distant memory. The idea excited her and scared her, and in an effort of experimentation, she threw her paws at the chest of one of the rag doll scientists. The panda nearly stumbled backwards in fear of what the body’s reaction might be. It does nothing. Tears almost seem to swell in her black eyes, and she chokes on her words. “They were bad. Bad!”

Pouts and baws came in bite size blurts, making the otherwise intimidating creature tame. One might call the scene pathetic, but the resolute eyes of her comrade in fur showed only thoughtful care.

“Come now, Tai Lun,” he repeated, deep and kind, “We’re going to see Zhao Cheng.” The grizzly smiled, as much as he could. In response, Tai rolled onto her back, weeping harder. It was not quite the response he expected.

“No!” The panda bear bawd, “No they always say that! They never let me. I’m good. I’m always good!”

The smile flees for just a moment from the grizzly’s black oil lips, but returns as kindly as before. “No, but I’m a bear! You can trust other bears, can’t you?”

The sniffling ceases. It takes Tai a moment to contemplate this, frozen on her back, paws in the air. It is clear she finds it to be sound logic when she jumps to her feet and throws herself at the grizzly, in the truest form of a bear hug. “Yay! You’re a bear! You’re a bear! Roar!”

“Roar!” The grizzly replies, chuckling through his words, “Now let’s go.”

Chekhov did his best with the terminal. Although he wasn’t a stranger to computers, there was something inherently difficult about typing with a paw. He managed well enough, opening security gates and checkpoints for an unmarked black van not far from them. When Chekhov got around to the garage door, forcing it creaking and grinding into the recesses of the ceiling, blasting the hot air inwards, the vehicle was already in position; across the lot, back end open, hidden by the wall of a building, awaiting cargo. It was concealed in the only real spot out of sight from the security towers, leaving an openness between them about the length of a football field. This was a death valley, in crossing.

From within the van, the view was quite unique: In the distance, a garage door opened, and two bears emerged, one panda and one grizzly. They looked at each other in conversation, before the panda took on an all but invisible sheen, and began a dead on sprint for the open back of the vehicle.

Chekhov watched, baited. Two radiomen leaned over the rails of their watchtowers, eyes in the wrong direction. He allowed another grin as the largely invisible panda hopped into the back of the van without a single turned head. This is going well. The thought began to form in his mind, snagged by some noise that distracted his personal moment. The van doors were closed now, but there was something going on inside. Shouting, perhaps. Three words, over and over. He strained his ears, as did the guards in the tower.

“Where’s my paw!?”

Chekhov immediately dropped the invisibility spell on Tai Lun, though it didn’t help the shouting. A peep around the corner told the story: The guards had abandoned their recline, now looking in the direction of the van, mouths moving silently against raised radios. A spotter of his team must have noticed this as well, for the gas petal was slammed, and the black van shot backwards from its cubbyhole.

If the dwarf driver wasn’t far too occupied with steering over the sound of a panicked panda in the backseat, he might have spotted a grizzly sprinting for all its life in his direction. He might have noticed it stumble onto two feet, hair receding into its skin. A splash of gunfire and shouting caught his attention, just as a naked man slammed into his passenger door. Chekhov’s feet barely gained a lip inside before the vehicle accelerated forward, open door flapping in the air.

“Bystro! Bystro!” Chekhov shouted, a turn managing to close the passenger door for him. A crescendo in the engine followed time with the screaming tires. Those who saw braced for the inevitable impact of the draw before the exit. They caught it just as the security gates began to close, and the tire spikes all but skinned the teeth of their back set as the vehicle raced from the grounds.

They were not without a tail. Only one vehicle made it through the gate after them, a black night-rider with hints of armed men through its glass. The dwarf spotted it in his rear view mirror, and responded by opening the sunroof, which Chekhove proceeded to climb through.

Whether or not a naked man standing up in a car is enough to shock a driver into not avoiding a flaming meteor, one can never say. All we can know is that either Chekhov’s aim was exceptional that day, or the final moments of their pursuers were simply too confusing for them to stay alive through.

As they fled the flaming wreckage, there should have been a heavy sigh of relief from everyone in the vehicle. There would have been, if it weren’t for the screaming Panda throwing the full of her weight around in the back.

“It’s gone! It’s gone!” Tai Lun was raging, tossing herself back and forth, paw-guided, in a dramatic display of her anguish. Two men attempted to calm her, with varying results. One large fellow tried to physically stop her from moving, which wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility due to his arms being mechanically upgraded. The other, a much smaller man, spoke faintly while trying to make eye contact with the panda.

“Tai, Tai, Look at me. Look at me.” His hands scrambled to grab her muzzle, but she refused to let it be so. A whine came from the dwarven driver.

“Shut it up, already.”

“Sochuvstvie. He’s frightened.” Chekhov spoke in calm voice, tossing on a pair of pants rolled up for him on the floor. A long coat was also prepared for him, which he doned. His neighbor dwarf, who looked like he spent too much time near a hot oven, offered a sneer.

“For the last time, Bear-Man, I don’t speak commie.”

Chekhov ignored him. Reaching up to his tan neck, his fingers spun a small necklace to face forward. The artifact, which had been hiding in his fur as a bear, was now unmistakable. A piece of wood, housed by a ring of metal. A small sketch lay on its front, undefinable to anyone who did not already know what it was.

Chekhov turned his attention to the back seat, tossing long, dark hair looking to be dreadlocks in the making. The smaller of the two men in the back finally had a hold on the bear’s head, and was forcing its eyes into his own.

“Tai, look. Look, Tai. It’s me. It’s me.” The man’s voice trailed off, broken in tears. The panda’s muscles relaxed, and its raging stilled. A long moment passed before she allowed herself to believe what she was seeing. There were no words, other than Zhao Cheng’s sobbing.

The keeper embraced the animal, overcome with the relief of months and months of doubt and darkness. Tai Lun simply allowed the man to hug her, eyes as tame as the family dog by the hearth.

It seemed it was over; A safe house by the bay, the sun going down, an ice cream truck announcing around the bend. Chekhov reflected on how long he had been following this case. More importantly, he reflected on how he felt. Was he accomplished? Had he done something good for someone who needed it? The shaman had pushed hard for good dollar on this mission, enough to make all the reconnaissance worth the effort to his runners.

When all was said and done, not everyone made it to the end; The wolf Vaylo would never be seen by any of them again and, in this case, it was for the best. He closed his eyes and listened to the water. Oh, if only the world could be as simple as the water.

A crash sounded behind him as the safe house doors flew open. Chekhov turned to find the panda Tai running hard for an alleyway. Her keeper stumbled on the stairs trying to catch up. “What’s going on?” Chekhov demanded.

“STRAWBERRIES!” Shouted the Panda, pacing near twice as fast as she had towards the van before. Only the briefest pause of confusion grounded him, and then he was off in full sprint in tail.

“STOP!” It was no use. Tai was nearly down the side alley now, shouting something about strawberries. He could hear the ice cream truck in the distance, the only sound to accompany the slamming of his bare feet.

The bear rounded the corner, out of Chekhov’s line of sight. An announcer casted his wares through the music box tune. Words he had phased out before became clearer: “Get your strawberries, strawberries here.” What was going on?

“Tai, wait!” As he passed the corner, something snagged his foot. In a blur of a moment, everything left him behind. The last thing he felt was the cement hitting his face and a prickle of pain near the side of his neck. The last thing he saw was the panda running away.

PREVIOUS: Updated Character Bio – Jade
NEXT: Mission 01 – Reboot

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