Ubica
Legacy Name: Ubica

[b][u]Appearance::[/b][/u]

[b]Age::[/b]
26
[b]Height / Weight::[/b]
6'2 (189 centimeters) / 182 lbs. (82 kilograms)
[b]Hair Color / Eyes Color / Skin Tone / Build::[/b]
Medium length wavy dark brown, green-grey hazel, light tan, lean

[b]Race::[/b]
Ex-Yugoslavian, just leave it at that and don't ask me to specify which country I'm a citizen of / descent of (now that the Yugoslavia has collapsed)
[b]Birthday/Zodiac Sign::[/b]
December 8th / Sagittarius

[b]Favorite Colors::[/b]
I have never paid that much attention to such thing...
[b]Things He Likes::[/b]
Sharp things especially various types of knife, basketball (playing as a shooting guard/small forward), praying for the peace of (ex-)Yugoslavian people, small animals especially squirrels and lizards
[b]Personality::[/b]
In denial of the fact that Yugoslavia has already ceased to exist, has absolute no tolerance to other ex-Yugoslavian people who are biased over ethnic issue and act violently toward those with different ethnic from their own but most of the time he can get along with other ex-Yugoslavian people of all ethnics - just as long as they don't display their ethnical bias, moderately religious, down to earth and is an avid basketball fan

[b]History::[/b]
A man, the messed consequence of a boy growing up at the time his homeland was breaking apart, who leaves a part of his dream behind to live in another -dream- that he clings to it as a shelter from the cruel reality.

To his parents, younger brother and people in the same small village who knew him since he was a boy, Dragan Cinić is an amateur youth basketball coach working in some small basketball club in a bigger city. Only over a couple of months each year, he will take 'a vacation' and returns to his rural village to work as a carpenter and a locksmith.

Only, he never works as a youth basketball coach - basketball is still his passion from his childhood years, the dream...that he has abandoned.

Instead, Dragan Cinić is an 'Ubica' [killer], who hunts down those whom destroy the unity of his beloved country - no matter in the past or the present days.

Yugoslavia collapsed because of ethnic disputes; anyone who stirs a trouble over the difference of ethnics is his archenemy.

It doesn't matter how many years have passed since the land he was taught was his homeland has disappeared from the world map. In his mind...Yugoslavia lives on forever. It's just the other people that foolishly believe they have successfully torn apart Yugoslavia into several small nations.

[b]Random Facts::[/b]
- 'Ubica' is a Croatian/Serbian word that means 'killer'
-Currently he has a small apartment in a Serbian city of Čačak. However, he normally spends less than a month and half in total each year there.

[center][b][i]-::Theme Song::-[/i][/b]
[url="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fH_pe1USN8s"]Yoiyami no Uta(The Song of Dusk) by Sound Horizon[/url][/center]

[center]Credits::[/center]
Yugoslavia flag graffiti photo by Maciej Dakowicz on flickr
Map of former Yugoslavia territory from wikipedia.org
Art, story, profile and coding by Ilya

[center][i]Character's inspiration from
[u]"Once Brothers"[/u] documentary of Vlade Divac[/i]

[/center]

[align="right"]-------[b][u]Certain Fragment of Memories[/u][/b][/align]
My heart has been broken for so long...possibly longer than I actually realized it. I thought it was back in 1992 when the war eventually spread to the region where my family have been living for generations but in reality...the 'pain' was dated back to 1991, when Yugoslavia was first breaking apart.

I remembered looking at the map of my country being separated into smaller parts by lines that my father drew over it with a red colored pencil belonged to my baby brother. Listening to his vague words in my childish confusion, with tears slowly running down my face I asked him, "Why is our country being divided?"

My father just shook his head, "Some people said they can not stand living together as one country anymore because their ethnic backgrounds are different."

Ethnicity...from that day on, that word is like a poison to me.

We were just ordinary -Yugoslavian- people living somewhere in the middle of the country. I couldn't really recall since when that the war had become a part of our life...first merely as a news from the far away part of the country then moved closer and became a daily intervention eventually.

From then, we became victims to the violence that surrounded us. A landmine that no one ever knew whose side it belonged to claimed a leg of my father when he was outside taking water from the well. Then my two sisters...on that day I and my parents braved the danger of confrontation between armed groups to take my father to a medical appointment at the hospital. When we all returned, to our horror, found that my childish sisters weren't at home and left a note that it was too hot inside the house and they would go swimming in a stream in the nearby hill...

...they never came back.

My baby brother...poor Dusan never knew what Yugoslavia is like because the country had already had the broken off parts that formed new nations by the time he was at learning age. He will always look at those people who are citizen of the newly formed nations and only see them as foreigners, instead of the citizen of the same country as I have seen...and will always do.

Basketball has been a large role in my life, my best impression involved the sport has to be the time Yugoslavia won the World Championship in 1990...the last time we still competed as one nation. It was my dream to play basketball and become a basketball player, though nothing that far to the point I'd represent my country.

However, the war disrupted my growth as a player. I had to struggle for the survival of my family as the eldest son...

There were times that I lied to my mother about the food supply I could get my hand on and brought it back...I told my family I got it from people in some other village that didn't suffer from the war as bad as we did and could spare me some food or that I traveled to other village and got it from the international red cross...

..but in reality, I stole it from the supply of those armed groups fighting around our area.

Some occasion, if someone from the group happened to notice me and tried to chase me...I'd lured them into the wood...where I had set some trap to get rid of them discreetly.

In the time of war like that, no one really cared if one or two of their own men would disappear without a trace. It just occurred all the time.

When I hit 20, I decided to leave our little village since the war period had passed. I told my parents that I'd go for a tryout at some basketball club in some city, not the big, championship ones like KK Partizan, Cibona or Union Olimpija, to see if I could get anything out of it.

I moved to a bigger city, where there is one prominent basketball club and a few smaller, lesser known ones. Yet, all I really did about basketball was being a fan...following the competition just to have enough knowledge to tell my family when I go back home to deceive them.

What I really did...was becoming 'ubica'. I make those who committed ethnic crime and never realize their guilt pay for what they did...at the same price as what happened to their victims. My clients ranged from major business person to old lady who had to starve herself nearly two weeks to make sure she could pay my minimal rate. It was the first type of clients that I got most of my income from. And for that old lady, I took her to a homely restaurant, bought her a meal and told her to keep her money, also that she better eat and stay alive or I wouldn't do the job because she wouldn't be around to witness the outcome.

And my killing activity sometimes doesn't involve getting me paid. I hate it, the idea of those stupid people who think tearing Yugoslavia into nations purely for each ethnic...they're dead wrong on that if they think by doing so will stop the ethnic bias thing. It's been two decades already, and some of them still dwell in the past...the disgusting hatred wildly flares against each other just because of the word 'ethnic'. In everyday life I still witness such crimes...whether right in front of my eyes in person or read it from newspaper.

...And if it's the former, I WILL take the matter in my hand to save the unity of now 'invisible' Yugoslavia.

When will this nightmare completely be eliminated? I'm tired of doing this again and again...

Why do they always fail to learn to live in harmony? Learn to forget about ethnic...it's just small, unnecessary stuff.

I want Yugoslavia back...the land that once different ethnics didn't matter; we were together as one nation.