AN:
Eduard – Estonia
Toris – Lithuania
Natalia – Belarus
Raivis - Latvia
Again, no ownership of Hetalia or Repo! The Genetic Opera.
In a place across the city from where the albino had been terrifying the small brunette, a large and intimidating man sat at his desk in his grand office-only a small part of that spectacular building that was his. He was Ivan Braginski, the founder and owner of GeneCo, which, as everybody in that city knew, meant he was the most powerful man alive.
His eyes flickered upward to observe as two people came into his office-his bodyguards, Eduard and Toris. They had surnames as well, but he would not bother with those-he barely addressed them in any case. Eduard slapped a manila folder onto his desk and quickly backed up, taking his place in the room next to a shaking Toris.
Ivan eyed the folder curiously, picking it up and opening it to reveal the photographs contained within. These photos only served to enforce what he already knew-and it enraged him. He slammed the folder and the photographs back onto the desk, causing both Toris and Eduard to jump nervously.
He then gazed at the three others in the room; all three of which were reclining comfortably on cushioned chairs and the youngest, a girl, on something that resembled a small couch. His eyes turned to the oldest first, a messy-haired blonde with thick eyebrows and a seemingly perpetual scowl. That one had gone on a drunken rampage for the seventh or eighth time that month alone; stripping was one thing, but this time he had fatally stabbed numerous people as well. The blonde, Arthur, looked away, so Ivan decided not to say anything.
The second oldest was the one he looked at next; a real lady-killer, that one was. He was also blonde, but his hair was longer and well kept and he possessed both a beard and normal eyebrows. This would have been lovely enough to turn even straight men-if his face wasn't so horribly disfigured. Burns all over the face were one thing, and Ivan could even excuse the fact that this one was a complete whore; the issue was, that the second oldest, Francis, tended to kill his own lovers and wear their faces over his own, to hide the scars. Francis smiled confidently and ignored the glare, continuing to preen himself, so once again, Ivan decided not to say anything.
Lastly was his youngest child and only daughter. She was a blonde like her brothers, but her shade resembled Ivan's more closely than the other twos'. She could often be found either hanging all over his arm or out around the city. This one may have been the best behaved, since she didn't run around killing anyone who passed or sleeping with random strangers (and then killing them). However, pretty little Natalia-as this was her name-had quite the addiction. She would often buy cheap and addictive Zydrate off the black market-Zydrate was normally an expensive painkiller, and one they could afford at that, but Natalia would only settle for the kind that was almost like a drug-the kind that was illegally extracted from the dead by grave robbers. This was not the end of it, oh no, because Natalia would then go out and receive expensive surgeries. Her appearance was prone to changing every other day-which was the reason she sported the same shade of blonde as Ivan for the moment; everyone there had long since forgotten her real hair color. She flipped her hair back carelessly and mouthed the word 'marriage', so Ivan skipped over her as well.
Ivan buried his face in the palm of his hand. Was there no way to relieve the rage he felt, short of yelling at his children-who, in fact, didn't care either way?
It was then that he removed his hand from his face to see another enter his office. It was his personal doctor, who sported short, curly, blonde hair and looked barely old enough to be qualified. He had, however, been working for Ivan long enough for the company owner to know that he was much older than he looked. "What news, Raivis?" he asked as calmly as he could, given the photographs that had just been delivered to him.
Raivis nodded, pulling out a clipboard and shivering violently all the while, like a rabbit caught in a blizzard. "I'm s-sorry, sir… I-I… I'm afraid it's… terminal…" the young man squeaked out, looking up at Ivan nervously and holding up the clipboard, as though he expected it to shield him.
At this, Ivan snapped, leaping out of his chair and grabbing the lead pipe he always kept underneath his desk. He saw Raivis shrink back in horror before he swung the pipe and heard a very satisfying crunch; the young doctor hit the floor amidst flecks of scarlet blood that was now spraying from the wound in his head. Ivan then settled back into his seat, placing the pipe back in its previous position and watching in mild amusement as Toris and Eduard grimly dragged Raivis's corpse out of the room.
He soon stood up again, walking past his three children (who had been carefully watching as he'd killed Raivis and were now doing their best to keep away from him while staying comfortably in their seats) and into the elevator at the entrance of his office, motioning for Toris and Eduard to follow. The two bodyguards, who had begun to look even paler since the doctor's murder, stepped into the elevator with him, one on each side of him. As the elevator doors shut and the elevator itself began to descend, Ivan gazed over the city-his city, and sighed.
"Maggots, vermin!
You want the world for nothing!
Commence your groveling,
Ivan, your king, is dying.
Even Ivan Braginski cannot prevent this passing.
Who will inherit GeneCo?
I'll keep those vultures guessing."
The elevator doors opened on the last floor as he stepped out, passing by the numerous reporters who seemed to be constantly crowded outside his building. Ivan ignored the flashing cameras, chuckling to himself,
"I'll keep those vultures guessing."
