[b][u]Nikolay Andreevich Ivushkin | Bloody Hell[/u][/b]

[i]"Да, да... Матрица. Я ладно. Хаха... нет. Да, спасибо... прощай.[/i]

A certain boy walked on the hallways that led towards the classroom in which the next subject was going to be taught, speaking to his mother on the phone as he went. At first glance, it would be obvious that he wasn't from this country; he was far too fair skinned and maybe too tall at five feet and nine inches. He was Russian, like Malenkov, but those who barely know him would think otherwise. He sometimes spoke with an American dialect, and in other times, he muttered words with the recieved pronunciation of southern England. At other occasions, he sounds Scottish. Either way, this boy derived great pleasure from confusing the other students on his nationality. One could never truly guess until they looked at the name written in the card of his ID: Nikolay Andreevich Ivushkin, a Russian student that came all the way from Sakhalin Island. 

Those who knew a bit about him would know that his Noble Arm were a pair of hands made of stark white stone that seemed to absorb all attacks that are thrown against him. Some thus know him as the Fist, but he preferred Rogal Dorn... because, well, his Noble Arms were quite literally called the Imperial Fists.

He kept on walking towards class, either way, as Nikolay was not the type to be late; rather, he preferred to come early to his subjects. In this school, he was at 47th place, and though he wasn't particularly ambitious to raise it, he also wanted to maintain his position. There was something happening in the hallway, though... this girl that was wet all over and covered herself with a towel rushed past him in a hurry. He was guessing that she was a younger one, probably a grade ten or eleven. And... [i]Воже Мой[/i], was that Henry the Giant? He looked like his head was inches from hitting the ceiling, and Nikolay was guessing that he had a lot of trouble trying to fit into the Philippines' public transportation, which was built with much smaller people in mind. Anyways... He figured he could talk with someone before class started. Especially since that girl from earlier was drenched in water.

"Bloody Hell, mate.", he said to both Oscar and Henry with his British accent. "What on earth happened to... her? Did someone use water magic on her as a prank?"