Ivan Gegorovitch
By Faye Smith
A young man in his early twenties looked out of the office window in his mansion of an island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.
He had fair, ginger hair, gray, dull eyes and a mouth that, when he smiled, it would send even the largest animal running.
He wore military clothes, his boots shined until you could see yourself in them; he held a cigar in his right hand and a glass of Vodka in his left hand. He had a scar from his eyebrow down to his chin on the right side of his face. His name was Ivan Gregorovitch.
The very name struck fear into people's hearts; he was infamous for killing hundreds of people in a bomb in central London.
It was night outside; even though it was very lightly raining outside, Ivan could still see some stars were twinkling in the night sky, as if smiling at him.
Ivan's office was dark and gloomy, with dark scarlet walls and carpet, a lion's rug in front of the fire, animal heads dotted on his walls.
His office looked like a dungeon, the only light given off was the one from the roaring fire.
Ivan Gregorovitch walked over to his fireplace as a bolt of lightning struck behind him, splitting a whole in the few clouds that where out, and welcoming more rain.
Ivan walked over to his fire and down at the dancing flames, spits of fire and coal jumped out frequently.
It made the killer's face glow with venom and anger.
In a moment of frustration, Ivan Gregorovitch through his drink into the fire, making the flames build ever higher.
He walked over to a wall that held map of the world, it was dark but he could still make out the countries, he raised his cigar to the map and placed the burning end over one of the countries. He watched as the paper smoldered and smoked and imagined the people of the country, yelling for mercy as he did the same to them. He could almost hear them, screaming in pain, screaming for mercy, screaming from fear of Ivan Gregorovitch, ready to kill whoever stood in his way.
He walked back to his desk and looked out his window, and threw out his half smoked cigar and lightning another.
Looking back at the map, he saw the country he had burned, it was now just a hole with a blackened edge.
Just then there was a flash of lightning, he could see for a split second the country he had burned could clearly be seen…it was England.
10 years ago
A young Ivan ran down the uneven streets of Moscow, the snow melting form the winter season, the Kremlin rooftops just visible in the afternoon light. As a young boy, Ivan Gregorovitch was a happy and carefree boy, a loveable boy and never getting in a fight with his brother Yassen, or getting in an argument with his parents.
Ivan ran as fast as he could after his friends, he they were playing tag and by the speed Ivan was running, he could of easily caught them, but they were nowhere in sight.
Ivan sighed, 'they must have ran off somewhere'. Ivan's friends were always running away from him, Ivan thought that maybe his friends didn't want to hang around with him, he thought they preferred to his brother, Yassen.
Ivan guessed it was time for supper because he could smell the beautiful Sunday roast his neighbor Mrs. Valkova always cooked. Board with running after his friends, he deiced to go home for supper. But when he got home and entered the house by the back door, as he usually did.
Ivan found his mother and farther being interrogated by man in uniform.
Seeing this though the window he didn't enter the house.
The man looked of high class, he wore a military coat and his boots were shinning. But there was something dangerous with this image, this man was questing his parents with a gun, and Ivan didn't know properly what was going to. He was stood for what seemed like an age, just watching his parents being quested. Then, his through the net curtains, he realized his mother could see him from the chair in which she was seated. She motioned for him to run. Before Ivan could run and get help, the man shot his mother then his father. His father who had been standing in a doorway, landed with a sickening thud on the floor. The military man looked at Ivan through the window, the little boy could she the cold, blue eyes, before the man left Ivan's life forever, Ivan had just enough time to have a glimpse at the badge the man wore on his lapel. It was an SAS badge, but what would the British SAS want with Ivan's parents? Ivan ran fast as his legs could carry him, he wanted to tell someone, but most of all he wanted to get away from this evil man. So Ivan ran to get his brother, Yassen, to tell him about the murder.
And Ivan gregorovitch, son of Natasha and Ivan, brother of Yassen, vowed, he would hunt down whoever killed his parents and ask him if he could have a go of his badge.