Yara Novik

At 42, Yara Novik is the silent force standing between chaos and control at any SCU crime scene. Tall and broad-shouldered, she commands presence without raising her voice. Colleagues call her The Wall — not just for her unyielding demeanor, but because once she steps into a space, nothing gets past her. Suspects don’t rattle her, politicians don’t sway her, and bureaucracy doesn’t slow her down.

Years spent on two overseas peacekeeping missions left their marks — including the pale scar down her cheek and the gravel in her voice — but they also carved a tactical brilliance and emotional resilience that few in Verrowind’s Serious Crimes Unit can match. Her methods are blunt but effective: secure the perimeter, stabilize the scene, break down resistance. She doesn’t chase chaos — she boxes it in.

Yara’s presence at a crime scene often means the worst has already happened, but also that no further damage will occur. With a notepad in hand and steel in her eyes, she documents environments with military precision. Her notes, written in all-caps and underlined three times, have become something of an inside joke — but no one questions their accuracy. She sees angles others miss. Entry points. Escape paths. Emotional breakdowns waiting to happen.

While she maintains a professional exterior, those who work closely with her know she carries more than gear and authority. Her past — medals, letters, a loaded sidearm — remains locked away beneath her bed in a footlocker that no one else is allowed to touch. Some nights, she wakes in silence and stares at her watch, the one she wore through every mission. She keeps it meticulously wound.

Off-duty, Yara doesn’t relax so much as power down. She doesn’t speak about what she’s seen overseas, but her deep distrust of politics and empty authority stems from watching people die while decisions were delayed. That’s why, in the SCU, she acts — fast, firm, and without hesitation. She trusts her instincts and demands clarity from everyone around her.

Among suspects, Yara is feared — for good reason. Her stare strips away lies. Her interrogation rooms feel colder than they should. And when she starts cracking her knuckles, even seasoned criminals tend to confess. But within the unit, she’s respected as the bedrock: calm when others panic, forceful when others stall, loyal when others doubt.