Ivan the Terrible

Ivan is a man that has cultivated quite a reputation for himself. He is a different person to different people. To some, he is a quiet, almost introverted character that rarely says a word unless he absolutely has to. To some, he is a shrewd businessman. And to others, he can only be described as terror in human form. Ivan the Terrible, giving a nod to the historical figure after whom he is named.

He is the leader of the Vito crime family.

Unlike the leaders of the other four mafia families in the Russian Bratva, who had inherited the Capo position from their fathers, Ivan had singlehandedly created his branch of the mafia from scratch. His empire was built on a foundation of blood, tears, and bones—literally. He kept skulls of the victims that fell to his sword on his way up the ladder in his basement, some of them sticking right out of the concrete used to build the foundation of the building. That was his idea of interior decor. He loved to show off his trophies to whichever unlucky souls happened to earn the show. A privilege you would not wish on your worst enemy.

Ivan was involved in all manner of crimes in the underworld. He would often say that the Bratva is a chain of command, and if he is not in the room, then he is the missing link.

His tasks involved extortion of local businesses and trafficking in everything that could be trafficked. Be it sex, drugs, weapons... you name it. Nothing moved without his stamp of approval.

His reputation for brutality had earned him another kind of side gig. He was the unofficial enforcer for the other four crime families whenever they needed the balls of some of their kin squeezed—balls that would be out of reach for the other capos as they feared stirring rebellion for shedding blood of their own.

Ivan also had another lesser-known side. He liked boys. He liked men. He had known it since his teens. It had majorly contributed to his multiple personality disorder. He had had to keep his boy love hidden from peers for fear of retribution. It also fueled the rage inside of him due to the repressed urges. He would initially ask out male gigolos and then snuff out their life at the end of their session because, well, dead men tell no tales.

But he had progressed now that he had money and power—a quick end to his prey's life was unnecessary. He had graduated. He now liked to play with his food. And he was now being offered an offer he could not refuse.

As for parents, he had none. At least none that he had known of. Growing up in the streets of Saratoga, love was a foreign language to him. One that he had no desire to learn. He considered it a weakness. Love is for the birds.

(IVAN)

As I walk around my new toy, I could not help but wonder what he had done for the gods to punish him by unleashing me on him. Not that I really care. No. In this business, money talks. No questions, not ever.

Diablo Gato, I had heard him called. Sounds like a fitting enough name for this beautiful boy in his early twenties—just energetic enough, just the right age to ride like a bull. Would be a pity if I have to drink from his skull eventually. He chuckled, knowing that could be the only ending for this poor soul.

"Boy, you belong to me now. I am what happens to you when you fuck up. I am consequences. You done fucked up, and now you're fucked."

Ivan blew out a cloud of smoke and turned toward the fat auctioneer.

"One million dollars for this devil cat, fat one." This was double what the highest bidder had quoted by then.

"A million dollars going once. A million dollars going twice. A million dollars going three times!" With that, he slammed the hammer.

Ivan then turned to Romeo.

"We are gonna have some good fun, Diablo."

With that, he signaled his men to carry his new pet off the stage.

Romeo knew what lay in store for him. He could feel it. He would soon be losing his virginity in all the wrong holes. But he prayed for a miracle. Prayed to a God he did not believe in.

After all, sometimes the sun goes round the moon.