The following story contains Vampires (of the non-sparkling variety), violence, and coarse language.

It may or may not involve Russia x Prussia, and the possibility of sexual themes.

Reader discretion is advised.

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Parasite

Chapter One

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Gilbert figured that the scariest feeling ever was having your skin burn to a crisp right before your very eyes.

Now, Gilbert wasn't exactly the darkest-skinned man out there – in fact, he was an albino, but even albinos didn't go from rare to extra-crispy in six-point-oh seconds flat.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but he had artistic license, man! Besides, saying something like "Oh, yeah, took four hours, but my skin almost turned brown!" didn't exactly catch the ladies' attentions, and he had to have his bragging rights.

But anyway, he was becoming well-done right now, as vampires and sun don't exactly mix that well. Heh, vampire.How corny. No, he couldn't just have some crazy allergy and albinism; he had to be a fucking blood-sucking freakoid.That was so just his luck. He made sure to glare heatedly at the back of his Changer(Or whatever the fuck he was called, Gilbert didn't know or really care)'s head, and hopefully drill through his skull in the process.

God damn was he starting to hate Lithuanians. Sure, the man had saved his life kinda – Gilbert so could have handled it, of course – from becoming a bloody smear on some gangster's criminal record, but he still didn't have to change him. Even if, you know, that was really his only choice.

But that was completely off-topic. Right now, the topic was that he and that damnable Lithuanian were walking through the streets of L.A. (of course, he thought, L.A. would have vampire freaks) in the middle of the day in nothing but a t-shirt and pants. Hell, they'd been walking most of the day, and walking was a bit of an issue for Gilbert, since he still had a bullet lodged in both his collarbone and his leg (that was earning a good number of odd stares), not to mention that newpires or fledglings or whatever were rather weak in the beginning, especially to sunlight. Not to mention the fact that he's a fucking albino, to boot.

He's mentioned that already, hasn't he? Ah, damn.

"Are we there yet?" he groused, not even knowing where they were going, but it had to be shady, right?

The Lithuanian – who he still couldn't get to say his name – looked over his shoulder and fixed his green eyes on him, almost looking like he wanted to make the albino burn even faster, and took a moment before answering. "No,"

Gilbert blinked. The fuck kind of answer was that? He kind of assumed, y'know, but it was more-or-less a question of when they'd get there. "How about now?"

"Open your mouth again, and I'll tie you up to a lamppost and leave you there," Gilbert's eyes widened in surprise, because holy fuck was this kid just a ray of fucking sunshine. He seriously made his stuffy younger brother and even his stuck-up cousin seem like they didn't have any anger issues. And that was saying something.

Note to self, don't piss the short kid off.

He wisely kept his mouth shut for the remainder of the trek, which was only about ten more minutes (thank God), and only opened it again to question why the fuck they were in a dingy little alley, of all things. The Lithuanian turned to him at that point with a very serious 'Shut the fuck up and listen, bitch,' expression, hands on his hips and brows furrowed.

"Look," He bit out, "I didn't change you because I felt sorry for you for getting caught up in a drug scam, okay? I've seen your type. I don't like you. But, unfortunately, my boss does. Which is the only goddamn reason you're alive right now," Gilbert didn't really know how to take that. Who the hell wouldn't like him, and how did he know about his 'drug' trafficking? That was beyond top-secret.

Hey, you could make a good buck off of selling idiots ground-up sugar pills. Serves them right for not knowing the difference.

"You would've been changed today no matter what," the other man continued, and Gilbert brought his attention back to him, interested. "My boss has a set date for everything. Today was your day. Anyway," Before he could even think of opening his mouth to ask something, the brunette cut him off. Seriously, what's up with him? "When you speak to him, you will call him 'Sir', understood? Treat him like you would Fritz,"

Wait, wait, wait, wait. Fritz? This guy knew about Fritz?

Gilbert felt the sudden urge to go steal someone's identity. This shit was creeping him out. "Are you guys like...some crazy-ass vamp Mafia? Because you're really –"

"Creeping you out, yes, I know," he finished for him, leading the albino to wonder if he could read minds. To test this, he stared intensely at the other, think really weird things – which was saying something, coming from him. The Lithuanian was un-amused. "Would you stop pretending to be constipated and be serious for once?"

Okay, well, maybe he couldn't read minds, and he was just really used to people being freaked. Which meant he changed people often. Man, this guy's a bitch and he ruins lives. Gilbert bet he just loved his life, which might explain his pissy-ness...

"Alright. So. We're just going to sit around here and...What?" Gilbert looked around, not seeing another soul (Hah, implying he or Liet-boy had souls) in the dark little alley, let alone a door or anything. Maybe this Boss guy he mentioned would just swoop in and finish him off. Oh, if only.

Said pissy-man gave him an irritated, let's-get-this-over-with-already look and punched the brick wall beside him. Gilbert gawked in surprise as not only did he stick his fist through a solid brick wall, it was only the one brick, and it slid out and made a rather loud thunk on the other side.

Which meant that there was a space behind the wall.

Great, we're going to Hogwarts, he thought, watching as the other seemed to grab something and pulled, releasing some crazy mechanism that sounded like it had a lot of gears that eventually drew back part of the wall, revealing a brick and a rather ornately carved redwood door and even one of those huge, tacky-looking door knockers. Totally called it.

The door swung inward, and Gilbert felt his eyes (He fucking felt them) dilate and change as they adjusted to the lighting - or lack-there-of – in the long hallway of the hidden...whatever this place was. The Lithuanian gestured him to follow, before swiftly striding into the place. As he expected, the moment they were both inside the hide-out, the door clicked shut behind them. Because that didn't scream 'corny horror movie' at all. He looked back to the brunette, only to find him walking deeper into the Pits of Hell, as Gilbert now decided to name the place. And it really looked it, what with the massive stone blocks that made up the walls leaking moisture and the cobwebs everywhere and the cobble that just about took out his foot as he tripped over it. Definitely hell.

"Stop making such a racket," The other called from ahead, waiting at a rather solid-looking door with no way to open it on this side. Gilbert stopped beside him and raised a brow, wondering how wonder-Liet would open this door. He pitied the closest wall.

Instead of going demolition-derby on poor, defenceless walls like he expected, the Lithuanian only rapped on the door a few times before it opened to them. That totally ruined my fun, he frowned, yet again following the shorter man into a rather elegant foyer, stopping to stare at the ginormic chandelier that hung over dead-centre of the room, dozens of candles flickering in carefully-forged glass holders and lighting the large room. Ruby wallpaper with simple gold designs every foot gave the room a welcoming air, several portraits of people flaking paint smiled at them in greeting, and beautifully carved doors set into the walls led off to who-knows-where. A grand staircase led up for a good length before giving way to a landing with two more stairs on either side leading off to the upper levels. A huge painting hung at the top of the main stairs depicting a man with sandy blonde hair, smiling violet eyes set under thin brows, and a large and very Russian nose and a very Russian uniform. Gilbert wasn't exactly a war expert, but he could bet you dollars to donuts that the uniform was early nineteenth century, right before the revolution.

What the fuck was a place like this and a picture of a man like that doing hidden away in Los Angeles?

"Stop your gawking and let's go," The Lithuanian spoke up, snapping his fingers irritably in Gilbert's face to catch his attention.

"Yeah, yeah, coming," he said, very much distracted. He came from a middle-class family – well, poor since they immigrated, there were rather rich back in Germany – so he had never really seen a place like this other than in pictures and movies. Well, cousin Roddy had a place like this, but he was a prissy bitch and didn't count at all, nor was his house this big.

Hell, he hadn't even seen all of this place yet, and it was already massive! The owner clearly had some compensation issues. Why else would they own something like this?

Oh yeah, he was a vampire.

Which only stood to reason that the Russian in the huge-ass portrait at the head of the stairs was this 'Boss' guy the Lithuanian had mentioned and spoke so highly of earlier. The one who wanted him dead – or undead, as the case may be. Gilbert pressed his fingers to his neck. Yep, undead.

He snapped out of his reverie to find his guide walking away and through a set of double doors to the right, and he rushed to catch up, staring mutely at the twin roaring lions carved into the wood, poised so that when the doors were shut they would do battle. Beyond the lions was a drawing room, a few plush couches and chairs placed around a dark wood coffee table holding up some books and an empty teacup. The brunette only paused long enough to pick up the dish and continued leading the way through yet another door (this one rather plain, he noted) into a kitchen. Gilbert saw dark red cupboards and black granite countertop before he was lead out of the room and into...

A fucking throne room?

The pair entered quietly through a side door, as the massive – and he did mean massive – doors to the right clearly led to a courtyard of, Gilbert squinted at the frosted glass, what looked like gardens of sunflowers. Even more paintings hung on the wall, although this time they were of forests of ancient oaks or rolling fields of wheat or the man in the portrait in the foyer standing amongst rows and rows sunflowers. Marble pillars where spaced out evenly, five on each side, stretching high above them, made the room seem almost bigger, rather than making it cluttered and stuffy. At the far left end of the room was a slightly raised platform, upon which a golden, plush-looking throne sat with arms resembling lions roaring, their mouths agape and tongues lolling out.

Gilbert decided right there and then that this man was arrogant and stuffy, and probably walked like he had something unpleasant shoved up his ass at a funny angle. And he probably had a tiny penis.

Someone cleared their throat, making him jump in surprise. "Spasibo, Toris, you have done very well," The Lithuanian nodded and bowed, and Gilbert could only assume that his name was Toris. Toris opened his mouth to say something, but the speaker from before beat him to it. "You may leave. And Gilbert, come here,"

It was only until Toris turned on his heel and walked out the way they came that the albino looked in the direction from where he had heard the voice, eyes resting on and seeing the figure in the throne for the first time.

His feet moved forward on their own violation, it seemed, as he was too shell-shocked to actually move otherwise, until he was standing a few yards from the throne. The man from the portraits sat comfortably, one leg crossed over the other, hands in his lap, and his eyes closed. Gilbert swallowed thickly before he found his voice. "Who the fuck are you?"

The Russian smiled and laughed softly, a deep, rumbling noise. "Is that the way you treat the man who gave you a second chance?" He finally opened his eyes, and...

And everything in Gilbert's head snapped.

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To be continued...

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