Maxim Nazarov on RolePlayer.me - www.roleplayer.me/1100946 Maxim Nazarov
"The stars on my knees mean I'll never kneel." (Russian mobster/Crime/Mafia/Open)

Male
48 years old
Moscow, Moskau
Russia

Last Login:
January 19 2021

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Characters: Maxim Nazarov
Member Since:April 22, 2016



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About me:
Name: Maxim Sergeevich Nazarov

DOB: 01/1/73

POB: Moscow, Russia

Current residence: New York City

Distinguishing marks: Has several prison tattoos in the tradition of the vory v zakone (Russian for "thieves in law", the elite class of Russian criminal). Has eight-sided stars on both knees, indicating he won't kneel to authority. The same eight-sided stars below his collarbone meaning he is a professional criminal and a member of the vory v zakone. Also has the "thieves" cross on his chest. Has a dagger through his neck, showing that he committed a murder while in prison and was available for more hits...has three drops of blood meaning he killed three people. Has a crown tattooed on the middle finger of his right hand, meaning he is a criminal boss and a white cross on a black background on the ring finger of his right hand, meaning he had done solitary confinement. Has a skull on left hand for being a murderer. The letters "МИР" (mir; world or peace) on the back of the hand denote one who will never be rehabilitated or re-educated (меня исправит расстрел, menya ispravit rasstrel, only execution will correct me) on his right hand. Has the Madonna with Child on his right bicep for being a criminal at a young age.

Bio: Having been born in the Chertanovo district in Moscow, Maxim Sergeevich Nazarov was destined for a life of crime. From a young age, he got involved in a gang of fellow youths. He mostly stole small items...bikes and what not before moving onto bigger and better things the older he got.

At the age of fourteen he was arrested after he was caught trying to steal a car belonging to a politician and was sent to Matrosskaya Tishina, in eastern Moscow. Knowing how dangerous prisons could be in Russia he knew the best way to earn protection from both the guards and his fellow prisoners, was to join the vory v zakone.
In order to gain their attention, he killed a fellow prisoner in the mess hall, stabbing him repeatedly in the neck with his shiv. The guards promptly beat him and while in the hospital wing he was approached. Thus began his criminal training.
He was released for the first time two years later before being arrested for trying to sell weapons illegally. He would later be arrested two more times before finally earning his stars. After his final release, he formed the Nazarov bratva (the Nazarov Brotherhood). For years he operated in Moscow but eventually decided to head to the US to pursue bigger and better things.
Who I'd like to meet:

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Maxim Nazarov's Friends Comments
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𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐒𝐈𝐄

Jan 14th 2021 - 5:30 PM


Death & Co.
Death & Co. was a famed bar in New York City since New Year’s Eve, 2006. Deep in Manhattan’s East Village, this location won Best American C*cktail Bar and World’s Best C*cktail Menu, attracting the upper-class from even the darkest city alleys as an industry leader that kept its most valued patrons’ attendance secretive.

The bar was located at 433 East 6th street and the entrance disguised itself from the world. From the outside, the location appeared closed. The outside was a seemingly small building with doors and windows boarded up. Inside the door, the space recalled the glamour of the speakeasy era with the dark, moody c*cktail lounge. 

Occasionally, Sidney chose this to be her work location for the evening. The level of mobster and businessman that flocked the location was almost worth the exorbitant prices for drinks – though she never had to pay. Some wealthy young man from wall street inevitably leaned his back to the bar with a hand through his greased hair and offered her the world. Always, she would act coy and impressed, taking the bait. Once at the table, she acted dumb to seek information and then leave for the night.

Occasionally, she ran into trouble with men who wanted to leave with her and had the security to intimidate her or seeing the same men around from another night who felt entitled to her company. Nonetheless, she was lucky to be modestly beautiful and intelligent enough to know when to leave. Tonight, was no different. .

“Sarsaparilla,” she whispered into the half-opened slat in the door.

She walked into a waiting space with a kind butler, whom her took her black peacoat. “Good evening, Ms. Jones” he said with a slight bow. He then used his free hand to open the dingy door to an immaculate palace of a bar with marble design, dark features, and low-lit chandeliers.

Sidney swaggered in. Her red sequin dress clung seductively to her hips. Her platinum locks fell down her chest. It wore the nicest clothes in her closet. She had no choice but to get a story tonight from Maxim Nazarov, who was rumored to be in attendance. 

While a Russian mobster, he also had several businesses in America which included a prostitution scheme in the Broadway district. These "Broadway babes" were stunningly gorgeous and dripped in class. Despite not having attended the shows, they studied the plots, fully prepared to gossip with the men (and occasionally, woman) that flooded into the street inspired with love. These ladies would act as though they hadn’t the money to return to their hotel and strolled the streets enough to negotiate a rate and take them home. Of course, a large portion of this money went to Maxim, but the women made so much, they didn’t mind.

Sidney took a seat at the end of the bar, ensuring she had enough light to scope out the circled tables around the bar. She took a deep breath, casually taking in each table looking for Maxim. The bartender was dressed in his finest suspenders and bow tie. As he swaggered over, he slid a napkin square across the bar and it stopped perfectly beside her right hand.

She smiled as she looked up at him, “Hello, Brandon”.

“Well well well, Sid. What brings you around here tonight? Cooking up a new story?” he asked with a c*cked brow. 

She smiled coyly, “I can’t afford this place otherwise. You know that”.

He shook a finger at her and grinned as he turned his back, “well tonight you can because this one is on the house. How does an orange martini sound?” he asked, feeling particularly flirty. 

She sighed, “So, long as its on the house and not on your tab, I am happy to take a martini. Espresso martini though. I think it’ll be a long night. I’m not sure where my target is yet”.

Brandon mixed the proper ingredients in a shaker. As he shook it, his eyes stayed glued to hers. She wasn’t sure if he was that good of a bartender or if she was really attracted to this guy. Without her hardly noticing, he set a martini glass on her napkin square before he began dramatically pouring the martini with his hand gradually moving father in the air with the stream. 

“Thank you, good sir”, she said with jest. He simply winked in response and moved to his next client. .

Casually she pretended to stretch and caught sight of Maxim in her peripheral. She sighed with relief that her tip was correct, and he was at this bar tonight. Sidney crossed her legs, making her left thigh appear a little thicker next to her thin waist. Her finger casually sliding the hem of her dress down her thigh, so it stopped just before it was too indecent. She sipped her martini slowly, accentuating the thickness of her lips. 

She truly wasn’t a promiscuous girl. In fact, she was painfully awkward. “Do I look like a duck?” she thought to herself. Nonetheless, she knew to catch a pimp, you had to look at least a bit like you wanted it. She noted that around the bar, men were perking up to her solo existence at the bar. Silently, she prayed that they would leave her alone so Maxim could come speak to her and she could get her story on the Broadway babes.

Just then, a dapper young man in a suit appeared next to her with his hand outstretched and his lips pursed, “I’m Pierre. Next in line for oil stocks from the wall street exchange. What might your name be and what brings you here alone looking this pretty?”

It took a lot for Sidney not to sigh or even punch him in the face for making her seem unavailable, but she turned herself in her seat just enough to be able to have a clear view of Maxim. 

She put out a limp hand, indicating her suitor should kiss it, “Veronica,” she lied as she looked over his hand kiss to blatantly stare at Maxim. It seems that her mission was to be obviously involved with Maxim, no matter the man in front of her.

The bloke began to drone on about his luxurious life and ordered her a very expensive pour of red wine. The entire time, she looked at the suitor just long enough to be attentive but long enough at Maxim for him to think she was his.
 
satan is a 𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔱

Dec 24th 2020 - 2:17 AM



Merry Christmas!
champagne clouds.

Dec 22nd 2020 - 11:21 PM


Kalu the Hutt

Dec 10th 2020 - 8:06 AM


Testing.
𝕷𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝕯𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖓

Sep 17th 2020 - 1:26 PM


Hey! Are you looking for a place to call home by any chance?
ηaυghτγ Daηcεr.

Jul 14th 2020 - 2:14 PM


It took a while before the thought “friends” even came to mind with Leia thought about Max. Even during there marriage. It was an easy stage game for Leia but her husband wasn’t dumb either. He knew her better than mostly everyone so when she needed help or advice she usually came to him. Diamond Hearts, her burlesque club, was having financial problems.

Before Leia decided to find better ways to have income most likely illegal, she wanted to speak with Max first. Arriving at the restaurant that they agreed on meeting at for dinner. Leia wore a tight black dress, her currently blond and pink tipped hair curly and flowing down her back. As the waiter took her to their table she ordered a glass of wine while she waiting for Maxim to arrive.

 
the cuddler.

May 3rd 2020 - 8:19 AM


"Quite the cliché answer, a safe answer." :p
the cuddler.

Apr 30th 2020 - 3:15 PM


/......cue the blank stare and blink; 🙄
the cuddler.

Apr 29th 2020 - 11:54 AM


i will start pouting, so hard, if you don't tell me.. :(
the cuddler.

Apr 28th 2020 - 12:43 PM


humor me.
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