A follow up to the last one. I like Ivan too much...

Ivan was a simple man with simple interests. He liked the soothing sounds of a classic piano piece as the notes floated from his Ipod through the wires of his headphones into his ears. He liked how the sounds could eradicate any problems he had encountered that day and allow him to relax and enjoy something as universal as music.

He enjoyed the sight of snowflakes landing on his black coat: the stark contrast between the black wool and the white ice crystals, which never failed to make him feel like the star of an old Hollywood black and white movie. And of course, the silent winter afternoon could only lead to him enjoying his music that much more.

He did not like how his current job was impeding his ability to enjoy his Beethoven. The job was simple: transport the crate to his hometown in Siberia and to not open it until the next day. Unfortunately, the cargo did not seem to approve of his mission and would protest very loudly and very persistently by smacking on the nailed-down lid of the crate in a Banging noise.

Bang Bang Bang

And there it was again! Ivan cursed; that noise was interfering with his music!

BangBang BANG

Ivan cursed again. The crazy woman specifically told him to leave it closed until the next day. He couldn't open it even if the noise was driving him insane.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Bloody hell! He just missed the crescendo! Screw it all, Ivan had no self control when it came to something beastly like interrupting the most beautiful sound in the world!

Bang! BANG! Bang!

Ivan grabbed his trusty crowbar, wedged it between the lid and the side of the crate, and pried the cover up to reveal a disheveled Samoan. This Roman Reigns was a philistine. Ivan began to curse the wrestler in Russian about his inability to appreciate music.

Roman Reigns, the philistine, could only glare in response as he was still gagged.

Ivan sighed and pulled the piece of tape off the Samoan's mouth, and the man spit out a piece of fabric.

"Finally! You don't know how annoying that was! And I don't know if that sock was clean or dirty! ...Or even whose it was."

Ivan stared at Roman Reigns, the philistine. How uncouth…

"So where am I? Russia? You sounded like Lana when she yells. This has to be Russia. Intern Eve shipped me to freaking Russia. I'm going to kill that girl-"

"Vait!" Ivan shouted. "You, you have met the Ravishing Russian, Lana? That vonderful goddess!"

Roman raised his eyebrows. "Yeah? We work for the same company."

Ivan leaned forward into the crate to look Roman in the eye. "I vill help you return to America for vengeance on this Intern if you vill get me in to visit the beautiful Lana."

Roman nodded, slowly. "You got yourself a deal."

Ivan cut through the duct tape that kept Roman's limbs bound. "Roman the Philistine, ve vill be a vonderful team!"

"Ve- I mean- we will get revenge! Intern Eve will regret crossing me!"

Ivan smirked. "Ah, you are a heel! I thought so!"

Roman frowned. "Hey wait! I'm not a bad guy. I'm not a good guy. I'm the-"

"Philistine. Yeah, I know. You're the philistine. I understand. The Roman Empire didn't appreciate foreigners' art like they should have. It makes perfect sense."

Roman sulked. "No, I'm the guy."

"Vat guy? You Americans never make any sense…Now let's get a move on. I have sheet music I vant Lana to autograph."

There's a strong possibility that whoever read this face-palmed at the guy catch phrase. And you know what? I wouldn't even blame you.