Like an imposing force, the biggest man in Kill Fest was the first to enter the central hub of the New York City's mass transit system. Like a living mountain of flesh and bone, the 6 foot 10 550 pound man from St Petersburg walked in a lumbering gait that would suggest a slow unhealthy man of his size. Ivan who spent much of his early life fighting the hell like conditions of the Siberian wasteland was in fact a brutal fighter. Trained in wrestling, he once broke a man's back as he bent him over his knee snapping the man's spine as he screamed in anguish. A former member of the KGB in his early youth, he was once their number one enforcer at the end of the cold war. Fearing nothing, the big man was trained in all weapons of combat but his best beloved killing tool was his 12 gage sawed off shotgun he named Iren.
As the massive man walked about on the subway platform, no one dare near him. His face rugged with years of drink and cold Russian winters and his hands big like that of a catcher's mitt. His graying hair was hidden under his black rabbit Russian fur hat. Under his long brown fur coat was his true love Iren, waiting to be deployed at a moment's notice.
"Can you spare a little change sir?" A small voice said off to his right as he stood dead center on the train platform. Glaring down, he saw an older woman of nearly 80 years of age peering up into his cold eyes.
"What do you want of me madam," he questioned as he turned away from her.
"Please good sir, I have not eaten anything in days," she said in a meek voice.
"I have no such food."
"Please sir, can't you spare an old woman a little change?"
"Woman be gone from me now," he said in his thick Russian baritone voice.
"Very well sir," she said as she vanished from his presence.
Looking down upon his android phone, the device appeared as if a toy in the palm of his immense hand. He waited with Iren at the ready for the moment the site gave the word on whom would be the next target. The big man thought that this was a strange location for such an act of violence. To make a hit out in the open was not his way of operating. Ivan was more of an ambush attacker, hit them when they least expected it. His best strikes were always in parking lots where at any turn he could be laying in wait and blast his prey with a buck shot from good old Iren.