One
Ivan
I can hear the cheers from the crowd, giving me that surge I need. Chants of ‘Kill Him’ or ‘Finish Him’ ring through the room, but they’re drowned out by my heavy breathing and laser focus. My target is my opponent who is struggling to stand. I let him get back up, leaning against the cage like this is nothing. Once he’s up, I kick him in the face and he goes down, again, rolling to the side as my foot comes down. He yanks my foot, trying to knock me off my feet, but I’m faster. I let him get up, toying with him. I’ve been told not to play with my food before. But I like playing, letting them think I’m nothing. I get off on seeing them bleed.
The guy gets up and tries to come at me like he’s a freight train, but I throw him back like the brutal warrior I am, grinning when he realizes he’s about to lose.
Taking his face in my hands, I squeeze his eyes out of the socket and knee him in the face, and he goes down. Yeah, he’s done.
I spit on him as I walk out of the makeshift ring that was set up for fights like this to cheers, but I ignore them, walking past people going for the office that I used to change. I see a cute brunette bite her lip, so I grab her, too.
“Clothes off,” I command her as I wipe the sweat from my brow and watch as she strips out of her clothes, giving me a show. Fuck yeah.
“Like what you see?” She drawls, meaning she’s not from here, she sounds like one of those girls from Texas that you watch on TV.
“No talking, bend over the desk,” I growl, and she does. I swipe my finger through her pussy and find she’s soaked, no need for lube. I roll a condom on my already hard cock, fighting always gets me hard, and slam into her greedy snatch. Hell yes. I thrust in and out, hard, listening to her scream in pain and pleasure just gets me harder.
“Oh fuck,” she hisses right as I cum.
“Get out,” I pull out, dispose of the condom as she stares at me for a second.
“That’s it?”
“Yep, that’s it, get gone,” I hiss at her. Something in my face tells her to grab her clothes and go, causing me to laugh. I know I’m a scary fucker, scars and all.
Tugging on my jeans and then slipping on my shirt, not even caring about the blood, I just fucked a girl covered in that guy’s blood. I could give a shit less about blood, it gives the allure that I’m truly a monster. I let people believe that because that’s what I am. While my father is Pakhan, he wanted me to work my way through the ranks, something about learning responsibility or some shit like that. I soon learned that I thrived on violence, which led me to my calling, fighting. Or torturing. When an enemy is captured, I’m the guy they call. Some soldiers whisper that I have no soul, that I’m a robot built to destroy everything in my path, which in a way is true. I fuck, I drink, I eat, I fight, same shit different day.
“Was that necessary?” My cousin Timfur asks from the doorway as I lace up my boots. He’s dressed in the finest suit and designer shoes. Me? Who the fuck cares what I wear? I get blood on it anyways. And red doesn’t go with everything.
“Maybe,” I shrug.
“Some people in the crowd threw up,” he chuckles, he’s talking about the eye-gouging, not the girl. He’s worse than me when it comes to fucking and running. Tim could get any girl he wanted though.
“Gives something for the errand boys to do,” I remark, yanking on my leather jacket.
“Maybe. Your father wants to see you,” he says, and I nod.
“Of course,” I follow him out to a waiting car. One thing I will do is travel in style, perks of being the son of the Pakhan.
“You good now?” He asks me.
“Always am after a fight,” I smirk. I do thrive on fighting, but my demons run deep through me and it’s the only way to let out my anger and frustration in an acceptable way to my father. If I was let off my leash and was angry, I could become the Hulk and just take out half of Russia. Comes with the territory of my life. I’ve never been normal. I’ve always had a darkness inside me. And then I was supposed to marry a woman, arranged marriage, but I fell in love with her. Well, we did get married, but then I found her fucking some byki, soldier, in a closet at the reception. I killed him and then her. And then her father tried to kill mine, which started my path of killing, torturing, and maiming. I’m so good at it. I don’t think I will ever find love again, nor do I want to. No woman could tame the beast within.
“Good,” he says as we pull into the courtyard of my father’s house. It’s a palace, really..
“Do you know what he wants?”
“No, just that he needed to see us and my father,” he says.
“Alright.” Wonder why he didn’t call me directly, probably because I was gouging someone’s eyes out.
Tim and I have grown up together, thick as thieves. He’s light, I’m dark. Meaning where I love to sit in darkness, he thrives on talking to people. Don’t get it twisted, he’s just as ruthless as I am, but he can do it without getting blood on his nice suit. I need to see that blood, to feel it run down my arms. I know I look like a horrid mess right now, but my father has seen worse on me.
“Ivan,” the guard at the door greets me and lets us in.
“He’s in the study,” Oleg, his sovietnik, advisor nods towards the door and we head in that direction, knocking first. I might be his son, I might be a killer, but I do have manners.
“Come in, son,” my father knows it’s me, nothing gets past him.
