A/N Warning for mention of possible suicide, and alcohol abuse.

Also, I found out that the Russian variation of Elena is Yelena, which I'm now head-cannoning was Nero's private name for her. Incidentally since it doesn't really matter to this fic, the Russian variation of Maximillian is Maksamilyan, which is what I've decided Elena called him.

"Impress me then." Leonov said. "How would you take over a criminal empire without getting your head shot off by your rivals?"

"I've killed my rivals." Nero smiled, and took another shot of vodka, running his tongue over pointed teeth. "Slit their throats whilst they sat at the desks and left them there for the guards to find. Then I killed their underlings. And the underlings' underlings who were overly ambitious? I killed them to." He didn't bother to conceal the fact his smile was widening as remembered the feel of blood dripping through his fingers. Each drop of warm, crimson liquid that had spurted from the neck of people who had worked for Furan had felt almost, almost as good as he imagined it would feel to have Furan's blood staining his hands...a Furan's blood... Yelena's blood ...

Nero grabbed the bottle of vodka. It was two thirds empty all ready; he didn't bother with the pathetically small glass. Raising the bottle to his lips, he drained the entire thing in a matter of seconds. Allowing the bottle to fall from his hands and smash on the floor. Gregori Leonov had a poor taste in vodka; Yelena would have used the to clean the drainpipes. He snorted to himself at the irony- Monroe had stopped him drinking drain cleaner only two nights ago. Nero still couldn't work out if he'd intentionally reached for the stuff or had mistaken it for tequila. A part of him, the razor sharp, logical and intelligent part of his mind, told him that the poor clarity was Not A Good Thing. The rest of his brain was fogged over with rage and grief and ethanol fumes. It was a good feeling, it kept him on a near constant adrenaline high and it made him dangerous, it was a good feeling.

"You've killed all the other people within the organisation who could take permanent charge of the it?" Gregori Leonov's growl sliced across his thoughts.

"Yes," Nero replied. "It was the most fun I'd had in a while."

Leonov snorted. "You find killing fun?" There was evident condescension in his voice.

"On that occasion," Nero said. "I also enjoy watercolour, opera and the ballet."

Leonov laughed.

The sound was sudden and unexpected, a deep belly laugh that shook the Russian man's broad shoulders. "That is a coincidence. I also enjoy ballet." He said. "I have tickets for the Mariinisky Ballet's La Bayadere tonight. I was going to take my lieutenant. Unfortunately, he let me down the day before yesterday and I had him thrown out. Unfortunately, we were several stories up at the time. Maybe you should accompany me instead."

Nero smiled, both at the subtlety of the job offer and the threat. Oh yes, he could see why Number One had has eyes on this one.

"I would be honoured."

"Good." Gregori said. "The rest of my staff will be arriving shortly. I have some other schemes running but they can take care of it. You are going to tell me everything about yourself and your place with the Furan's ." He paused, then levelled the pistol back between Nero's eyes. "And if I suspect you of lying, I will not hesitate to kill you"

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