Ivan sat in his living room, downing another tall bottle of vodka. The TV placed in front of him flashed like lightning in the dark. The news, how he hated the news. Why he was watching it, was beyond him. It always made him feel stressed. Had they caught him? Had he left a clue? Where did he leave that body again? A wave of relief flushed his body as he saw the words "Suspect still unknown" run across the screen. He let out a short laugh as a picture of some strange bald man came into view. "Witnesses say this was the man at the crime, If you see this man call 911 immediately." His amethyst gaze flicked over towards the the rifle laying against his wall, lightly painted in red. Today's murder was a success. The man was younger than him, blonde, and quite the annoying little rat. He screamed for a while, always taking his chance to insult Ivan with a quick communist joke. Ivan shook his head, still not understanding why it had to be a communist joke. Russia hasn't been communist in a good ten to twenty years.
Ivan threw the now empty vodka bottle against his apartment wall, enjoying the loud crash that followed. His floor was showered with glass, and a small amount of vodka, causing him to grumble in frustration. He would have to clean that later. The Russian shrugged his shoulders in indifference.
"What ever, it's not like I'm expecting company or anything." He leaned down to grab another bottle of vodka among the many bottles sitting by his recliner. Popping the lid, he tipped his head back and began to empty the fiery liquid down his throat and into his gut. This was yet another victorious night of getting hammered. He nonchalantly picked up the remote to his TV from the arm of his chair and inspected the numbers a moment. He punched in the numbers "271" and looked up at his TV as it flashed. He rolled his eyes, history will have to do. There was a special on the Cold War today, how ironic. He propped up his elbow and leaned his face in his palm, half paying attention to the program. A few minutes passed, his eyes dropped as he became increasingly fatigued by the monotone voice of the narrator. He felt his consciousness fade, the history program flicking onto a commercial.
About an hour later, Ivan was jolted awake by a knock at his door. "H-hello? Anyone home?" A soft voice just barely made it's way through the door. Ivan groaned as he felt a slight headache coming on. He pondered if he should stand up, arching his arms up in preparation. They'll probably leave if he doesn't answer the door, thinking no one's home. Ivan felt himself falling back asleep, his arms giving out and his posture relaxing again. He closed his sore eyes, in no mood for a visitor.
Again the voice broke his pleasant silence. "U-uh Pizza delivery... Hello?" Ivan snarled, what did this douche bag want from him? Couldn't he see that it was- Ivan glanced up at the clock, his face suddenly becoming puzzled. It was only 3:00 in the afternoon, his murder had happened only seven hours before now. What was he doing with his life? Homicide, that was one thing... He slowly pushed himself up off the chair, frowning as his warmth left him.
"H-hello?"
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Ivan grumbled angrily. He rubbed his arms together, shivering in the cold of his apartment. He stopped by his door and unlocked it. The Russian swung it open, almost causing the man outside to jump in fear.
"What do you want!?" Ivan snarled, already losing patience after three seconds.
A blonde young man stood outside his door, wearing a red t-shirt and a navy blue ball cap. He looked scared shitless at the sight of Ivan, his lavender eyes stretched wide in fear. "I-I, you ordered a pizza." He held out the box in his arms hesitantly.
Ivan stared at the man with burning hot fury, he hadn't ordered a pizza! Why would he direct any attention onto himself?
"I didn't order a pizz-" He stopped mid sentence, a sudden idea coming to mind. The thought from earlier now fresh in his brain. What was he doing with his life? He had to find more to do...
"I have to go get my wallet, please step inside for a moment while I go find it." Ivan opened the door more, stepping to the side so the young blonde could walk inside.
The pizza boy stared at him, unsure. "O-ok..." He nodded his head nervously before continuing inside, the pizza box now held tight to his chest.
The room smelt of alcohol, that was the first thing Matthew noticed, he still felt a little uneasy about stepping into this man's home. He still had two more deliveries to make and he had no plans for getting fired.
The man closed the door behind himself, striding past Mattie with spring in his step. The room became too dark for Mattie's liking, spiking more fear in his chest. O-oh no...
"I'll be right back, please stay right here while I go fetch my wallet." The man's voice was lined with some sort of thick accent, he could only guess that it was Russian. Matthew watched as he walked deeper into the house, and out of sight, his eyes flicking over to the living room. Vodka, yep definitely Russian.
He watched the program flashing on the TV half heartily, not really caring what it was. Taking this short time of boredom, Matthew looked all around the house, spotting many unnerving things. A shotgun, covered in what he hoped was animal blood, newspaper clippings decorating the walls, thick warm clothes sitting in the corner of the room, (obviously not the same size as his tall Russian customer.) Maybe this man had relatives? Matthew heard a door close, directing his gaze over to his far right. He could just make out the silhouette of the tall man, holding something in his hand. Was that a wallet, no.. it was too big to be a wallet. He squinted, finding it much easier to make out the man's face as the TV reflected a brighter image. His eyes stretched wide as he saw his face.
Ivan smiled widely, his teeth clutched together in a bone-crushing manner. Two in one day? Jackpot! He tightened his grip on the knife in his hand, he didn't really feel like killing this poor man, but he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. So sad too, the boy was kind of cute in his eyes. Alas, his blood lust was too strong, overflowing him with an adrenalin rush. Yes this one would be fun, he seemed quieter and less robust than his last kill. Maybe afterwords he could keep a lock of that beautiful blonde hair for himself? Yes that was a good idea, he was quite fond of that idea. The voices in his mind continued to urge him on, whispering compliments about the young man across from him. Ivan continued to advance on the boy, his excitement bubbling up in his chest. He stared at the man, his eyes piercing his soul, burning a hole right though him. His head tilted to the side as he saw the young blond squirm under his intense stare. That only fueled him more. The voices muttered sweet things about the boy, all sounding just right to say before he slit his throat.
"Oh my, what's the matter little one? You seem scared. Does big scary Ivan intimidate you~?" His voice was as smooth as silk, yet as cold as ice. He enjoyed when his voice did that.
Matthew stared in terror as the man stepped closer and closer to him, holding a gleaming kitchen knife in his hand. Was this the end? Was he going to die right here? Right now? Oh Maple, where was his older brother when he needed him?
Unfortunately for him, his brother had suffered the same fate earlier that day.
"You are so pretty when you are afraid, has anyone ever told you that?" Ivan's bitter sweet voice echoed eerily throughout the whole room.
Oh noes Canada! Does he die? Does he live? What am I doing with my life? These are some questions that may never be answered. Only Ivan would know... Review~
