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Veselin 'Brainskull' Markovic - Blitzpunk

Name: Veselin Markovic
Nickname: Brainskull

Age: 46
Nationality: Serbian
Religion: Orthodox Christian
Affiliation: Serbian Army - Dragoslav Mesari Division (Former) / Bratstvo Noćnih Mesara
Skills: Small arms, Agility, Recklessness, Improvisation
Cybernetics: Full internal titanium exoskeleton, Artificial organs, Synthetic nerves, Reflekzinsk, Enhanced titanium skull, Adrenaline injector, Subdermal armor

Confirmed Good Deeds:
- Protected civilians during BNM operations, often against the orders of his squad
- Provided medical aid to injured bystanders using stolen combat medkits
- Defended villages from rogue mercenary groups and criminal organizations
- Refused to kill unarmed enemies, even when ordered to do so
- Took down corrupt officials involved in arms and organ trafficking
- Secretly smuggled supplies to war orphans and displaced families
- Saved fellow BNM members from certain death, even those who fear or distrust him

Veselin Markovic was a young Serbian soldier with an easy smile and an uncanny talent for handguns. During the height of the Balkan conflicts, his squad fell into a brutal ambush. Veselin was gravely injured by an explosion, losing half of his torso and most of his head. He was left for dead in the ruins.

A division, known back then as the Dragoslav Mesari, found his barely alive body and made a choice: salvage him, not out of compassion, but as an experiment. Veselin was rebuilt into a grotesque cyborg—just a brain connected to a titanium spine and a body of steel and synthetic muscle.

He didn’t move. He was nothing more than a body hooked up to a network of machines and tubes, feeding him, keeping him alive in a grotesque mockery of life. His brain was the only thing that remained human. He was kept in a dark, isolated base—hidden from the world—where he was kept alive by Dragoslav Mesari.

For weeks, months maybe, he was there, sleeping, dreaming about something. In his dreams, life was... better. He’d be at home, sitting around the dinner table with his family, exchanging punches with his brothers over who got the last piece of bread. He'd be in Croatia, laughing as he shot guerrillas in the ruins of a village. All the usual stuff—laughing, joking, fighting. A simple, good life.

Then, one day, he's wakes up. The cyber-medics were serious, as they always were. Their faces were cold, their hands steady, as they worked on the final phase of the operation. Veselin’s body, a nightmare of wires and metal, lay still on the operating table, connected to a mess of tubes and machines. The medics stood in silence, waiting for any sign of life. Veselin’s mechanical eye opened. He tried moving his hand, watching as the metal fingers slowly twitched. The sensation of control was… strangely satisfying. The cold metal felt unfamiliar, but it didn’t bother him. In fact, he kind of thought it was rad. When he glanced at the mirror across the room. The reflection staring back at him wasn’t just unfamiliar—it was a shock. The grotesque assembly of wires, circuits, and exposed brain... it was grotesque. The sight was so foreign that for a moment, he couldn’t even recognize himself.

He stood there for a long moment, contemplating his new form. But in the end, after the initial shock, he simply exhaled and shook his head, letting the moment pass. The hair was gone, sure—but at least he was alive. Despite the horror of his new form, Veselin didn’t seek revenge on his rescuers. The Dragoslav Mesari had saved his life, and to him, that was enough. He owed them nothing except his loyalty—for now.

After the war, many former Dragoslav Mesari left their past behind and came together to form the Bratstvo Nocnih Mesara (BNM). And Veselin was one of them. With a new purpose, Veselin became part of this growing death squad, though his outlook remained peculiar. While the others thirsted for blood, relished in their violence and chaos, Veselin remained indifferent to their desires. He wasn’t interested in the bloodshed. He wasn’t interested in the war. Veselin driving force was simple: Make the world a better place by killing 'bad guys'.

Fifteen years in the Mesara, and Veselin still here—alive, kicking, and making things awkward. Whether cracking jokes, 'cleaning' up the streets, or unnerving his squadmates by removing his titanium skull, Veselin is a nightmare machine with a heart of gold—well, mostly titanium. Veselin is a perpetual jokester, cracking jokes even in the midst of combat, his dry humor often leaving those around him unsettled. He is relentlessly optimistic, even in the face of impossible odds or overwhelming darkness.

Unlike the other members of the BNM, who are driven by a bloodlust and an addiction to violence, Veselin only desire is to create a better world. Veselin reputation stretches far beyond the dark corners of the BNM. Across Eastern Europe—particularly in countries like Serbia, Bosnia, and even parts of Romania—his name has become synonymous with a strange sort of heroism.

His fame, though somewhat controversial, has earned him high credibility among those who have crossed his path. To the average civilian, he’s a mysterious figure who shows up when things get truly bad. However, this reputation doesn't sit well with his comrades in the BNM. While they appreciate his skill in combat and his ability to get the job done, they absolutely despise when he takes on solo missions or does favors for civilians.