Korsten Kompanies

Korsten Kompanies is a giant skyscraper in the middle of Muggle London. Ever since 1789, the line of Korstens have been making weapons and ammunition for military forces world wide...but not for the Russians. Never for the Russians. No one knows why, but Kompanies never does stuff for the Russians.

The first twenty floors are work areas. Almost a hundred thousand people work there daily. The next five floors are the offices for the executives and the CEO, who has just been promoted to that office. And the next floor is used for the Kompanies darker dealings in th eblack market.

The last four floors house the Korsten family. Usually near empty for the past six months, it now occupies a tall twelve year old boy and his mother. The boy, Pierre, is currently working in his room at a large maple wood desk, piles of papers and parchment surrounding him. A small but sizable stack of textbooks were on the hardwood floor beside him, most well used.

Pierre himself was a burly half Slavic-half English boy, with a buzz cut of a hair cut and a piece of fluff for a pet


"Lord Korsten, some one here is to see you." a small ugly elf squeaked as it popped inside.

"Very well, Pickles, send them in." the boy yawned, putting down his quill.

Kyra looked up at the super tall building, feeling comparably small. "Whoa," she said breathlessly.

It had taken her father forever to find this place. Sure, he could use a car, but not video games. How sucky was that? Of course, her dad had to be really bad with directions and maps and reading signs.

Waving goodbye to Brian, she shyly stepped up to the door and rang the bell. What she saw on the other side made her smile. A tiny house elf stood in front of her, looking her up and down. "Hello, I'm here to see Pierre. I'm his friend Kyra."

The house elf nodded stiffly, turned, and went off to find his master. After five minutes, he came back and said, "Come in Miss." Kyra smiled and followed the house elf all the way up to where Pierre was. How many floors are there in this place?

The girl saw her best friend and immediately brightened. Tip-toeing up to him, she placed her hands over his eyes. In a fake deep voice, she teased, "Guess who?"

Pierre snorted as he twirled around in his chair, smiling brightly at Kyra. "How did you get pass the guards?" he questioned, waving off Pickles with his hand. "Cucumber, dismissed." he said idly, standing.

"Pickles is not Cucumber, Lord Sir Korsten." the elf squeaked indignantly but popped away anyways.

"So what brings you here, Ki?" Pierre asked, smirking at his paperwork and books. "Not that I mind, you saved me from writing paychecks and checking the employee's job on my essays." he said hastily.

"Oh, you know. Just my epic ninja skills," she joked, imitating what she had seen in a movie once. "Really though, I think Pickles might've done some house elf magic."

She smiled and hugged one-third of the Golden Trio. She knew that he wasn't a huggy kind of person, but hopefully this would be an exception. She let go after a few seconds, not wanting to make him mad, like she had that one time. They weren't friends then, but it still applied.

"So what brings you here, Ki?"

"I can't see my best friend in action? You know I love you Pierre, but really? You're still using your employees for your essay? I guess I have no way to dissuade you," she answered, smiling.

Pierre rolled his eyes. "Right...sure." he snorted. "Pickles doesn't do much magic. Something about my mother killing her twin...oh! That was Cucumbers!" he realized, slapping his forehead.

Pierre jumped slightly as Ki hugged him, but returned it slightly to the shorter witchard before she pulled away.

"Me in action? You should see the wizards we have as guards in action. Never saw that urchin again...but anyways, I just do paperwork most of the time." Pierre shrugged modestly. "And the employees are good at imitating a slow twelve year old boy, Ki." he defended, allowing himself to grin.

"Do you want a tour of the grand Korsten Kompanies?" Pierre asked, a wicked smile growing on his face.

"Your mum...killed the house elf?" she asked incredulously. "Okay..."

As she hugged her best friend, she felt him jump at her touch, but she also felt him hug her back, if not hesitantly.

"Paperwork? You know, you need a break. And you're not slow, dumb, stupid, or anything you might think. You're awesome," she said, grinning.

Seeing the evil smile that appeared on Pierre's face made her smile too. "Sure..."

"Yeah, Cucumbers touched her new Prada." Pierre shrugged, pulling off his Hufflepuff shirt and turning to grab a more Muggle appropriate top. "Which was dumb, because those were brand new Prada, right off the runway."

"Break? Please. I've gotten about four hours of sleep in the two weeks we've been back." Pierre shrugged, buttoning up a black shirt, using his teeth fro the sleeve buttons. "And I know I'm pretty slow- I barely passed all of my classes." he shrugged. "I don't care either way."

Grabbing his friend's hand, Pierre dragged Ki outside, down the modern hallways, down the stairs and into the elevator, pressing the fourteenth floor button.

"Prada... Huh."

"Four hours of sleep in two weeks? That's not healthy. Not at all," Kyra scolded slightly. "It's okay to be slow, but I don't think it's a very good idea to-" She was interrupted by Pierre grabbing her hand and leading- no, dragging- her out. "So, where are we going first?"

She was curious as to what the Kompanies made, besides ammo. She really wasn't all that eager to see, but she was with her friend. She loved him like the brother she never had, and it was something she hoped would end only when they died. Maybe it was a bit dramatic, but come on. Slack is needed.

"I can make up my sleep tomorrow night. Who are you, my mother?" Pierre joked, smiling widely.

"We are going to the fourteenth floor, where the bombs are designed." Pierre grinned at his friend as the elevator started moving. He then launched into a long and detailed explanation of the exact mechanics of it, eyes lighting up in excitement. "Don't mention Hogwarts- this is a Muggle only floor." he added as a last thought.

The elevator dinged, the door sliding open to reveal a large, open floor full of see through offices, seven people in each, all working on bomb designs- nuclear, little joke bombs for Zonkos, the works.

"Yes, I'm your mother. I came from the past to see you," she deadpanned.

"Bombs? Okay." Pierre went on and on about the explosives and Kyra smiled at the glimmer of happiness in the boy's eyes as he explained.

"All right, no Hogwarts. We can say Muggle things and subjects."

She and Pierre entered the large room, making Kyra go through internal shock. "Whoa. All of this is for bombs?" She was amazed, obviously. Everything was just so...big.

"Wrong parental. But you're too nice to be my mother either way." Pierre shrugged, stepping out into the large area, no one raking much notice of the two witchards.

"we produce forty bombs a day all in varying forms and levels of danger." Pierre explained, gesturing at a large hazard tank, four of the explosives already being packed in.

All in all, the bomb area wasn't much. Maybe he could show Ki the black floor, just to five her a scare. "Ki dh you scare easily?" he asked curiously, a sly smirk on his lips.

Kyra looked at Pierre with a questioning look. "As long as I'm nice."

She listened closely to her friend's explanation, trying to see if he was lying or not. She heard nothing. "Forty? Is that a lot?"

"Ki do you scare easily?" The girl's eyes widened.

"Er, no, but I don't know where we're going, still." Kyra was enjoying this visit so far, but then again, she hadn't really seen much. The only things she'd really seen were Pierre, Pickles, and bombs. Perhaps that would change.

Pierre shrugged at his friend's look, rubbing his almost non existent hair anxiously. "Yeah, it kind of is, but we supply the whole world, almost." he shrugged casually.

Leading his friend to an empty wall, he pressed his hand to flat metal panel, punching in numbers quickly. A portion of the wall slid open to reveal a narrow, rickety wood staircase, winding up about three or four floors.

Turning to look at Ki, she smirked. "Welcome to my world." he said, pulling her inside the room and closing the door securely.

Kyra blinked quickly and repeatedly. "The.. The whole world?" She had to admit that she was pretty close to fainting. It was almost too much. Almost.

She was led to a wall and, confused, looked at her friend as he placed his hand on a metal panel and punched in a series of numbers. When she looked back at the wall, it wasn't a wall anymore; instead there was a wooden staircase, and Pierre was dragging her inside. "Welcome to my world."

"Thanks," she said as he shut the door(?). She thought it was a door, at least. "So really, where are we going?" She was eager to find out and see what her friend's world was truly like.

"Yup." Pierre nodded, starting to go up the stairs.

"My world. The black market of the Wizarding World." Pierre smiled happily. "I was trained up there- for guns and politics. I have a worker up there who's like a father I never had." he explained. "We make most of our money there, too. Illegal wands, Portkeys, those kind fo things." he explained.

He hadn't been there since he had been back. Hopefully Howard was still alive.

“Cool, cool,” Kyra breathed. This was getting kind of strange, but this was Pierre’s world. It would just have to take some getting used to.

She almost stopped listening after the words “black market.” She just blinked rapidly, trying to compute what her friend had just said. “Oh. I forgot your dad wasn’t the best…No offense.” She followed Pierre all the way up, taking deep (or as deep as she could) breaths, trying to keep up. “How many more steps are there? I’m going to die and fall down the stairs and die even more.”

"None taken." Pierre shrugged. Pierre stopped at the top of the stairs, in front of a pair of giant French doors. "We're here..." he sighed heavily, closing his eyes briefly as he opened the door. The normally noisy room was silenced immediately at the sight of the two tweens.

"Ivan!" Pierre opened his eyes to see a smiling Howard standing in the door to his office, the aged man beckoning for him to come. "Stop gawking, you blithering idiots and get back to work!" the man snapped at the still frozen workers.

"You heard him, get back to work or I'll cancel your paychecks!" Pierre snapped at the workers, who scrambled back to work, Pierre leading Ki to Howard's office.

(OOC: YOU HAVE PERMISSION TO GM HOWARD KI)

Kyra's eyes widened at the sudden silence that overtook the room. She looked around, her eyebrows scrunched. She then looked at Pierre, confused.

An old man came up to the girl's best friend, greeting him warmly and then turned around, just yelling at the workers.

"Canceling their checks? You won't earn their respect by not paying them, you know," she tried to reason with him, knowing that it would probably be of no use.

"Canceling their paychecks is the way to earn their respect, er-?"

"Kyra," she replied.

"Yes, Kyra. It's one of the only ways we can get these lazy idiots to work."

They all went into Howard's office, Kyra looking for a way she could get the man and Pierre to agree with her.

Pierre smirked as Ki protested to the paychecks. "I agree, Ki, it's their only motivation." he chimed in.

"So Howard, what-oh." Pierre trailed off as they entered the office. A tall, Australian blond boy was sitting in front of Howard's desk in one of the chairs, smiling at him friendlily. "Who are you?" he demanded tartly, eyes narrowing. The boy seemed around sixteen, but Pierre was taller than him by three inches.

"'Ello, I'm Jonathon." the boy introduced. "You must be Pierre. Pleasure to finally meet you."

"Ivan, Jon here is your soon to be stepbrother." Howard said hastily. "His father and your mother met while you were at school."

"Do all Australians speak like you? Or are you just so incompetent that you cannot form a comprehensible sentence?" Pierre insulted.

(YOU ALSO HAVE PERMISSION TO GM THE AUSTRALIAN JON KI)

The girl rolled her eyes as her friend explained the motivation of his workers. Entering the office, she heard him ask who someone was. She looked at the person in question and her jaw literally dropped.

Sitting there was a gorgeous blonde boy, who, upon hearing his accent Kyra figured, was Australian. She blinked rapidly, trying to regain some of the composure she had originally. It seemed she was failing. Miserably.

"You might want to close your mouth, you'll get flies in there," the boy said. Howard forced Kyra's chin up in order to close the girl's mouth, but it just fell back open again.

The old man rolled his eyes and forced her chin up again, this time keeping his hand there. "H-hello," Kiki said awkwardly. "I'm Kyra."

"Hello to you too, Kyra," Jonathon said with a wink. The girl gulped.

"Do Australians speak like you? Or are you just so incompetent that you cannot form a comprehensible sentence?" Kiki's eyes widened further.

"Pierre! What's up with you?"

Pierre rolled his eyes as Kyra ogled the Australian. He couldn't believe that she thought he was that cute! Sure, he was attractive- most Australian boys were- but ew! Leaning to whisper in Ki's ear, the tall thirteen year old whispered furiously, "His speech! It is horrendous- his accent even makes it worse and appealing at the same time!"

"Do you have something against me, mate? What did I ever do to you?" Jonathon wondered.

Pierre scowled and twirled on his foot, bursting out of the small office and starting down the stairs. His mother had never told him about this! Even having his father back would be better than having a good for nothing idiot as a step-brother!

Kyra whispered back to her friend. "Worse and appealing at the same time? That's got to be a record of some sort." She hoped her slightly subtle humor would make Pierre feel better about the situation, though it most likely wouldn't.

"Do you have something against me mate? What did I ever do to you?" Jonathon asked, obviously confused about the younger boy's reaction.

"Don't worry yourself. You just got here," the girl grinned. Jonathon got more confused and said quite dumbly, "I don't get it."

He's lucky he's cute, Kyra thought. If it were brains girls were going after, he'd die alone. Pierre just turned on his heel and stomped down the stairs, making Kiki nervous. "I'll be right back."

Running down the stairs to catch up with the twelve-or-thirteen year old boy, she called his name. She finally caught up with him, breathing hard. "Are you alright? She was actually quite worried about his behavior. It wasn't right.

Pierre stopped at the foot at the stairs, turning to look at his best friend. "I don't know." he muttered lowly, hoping that Ki didn't hear. "I'm fine," he said, louder this time. Pierre didn't know why, but his anger seemed to lessen at his friend's presence. "I just don't like him..." Pierre shrugged weakly. Something about the boy seemed off. Maybe it was just his stupidity or his looks that got Ki ogling over him so much.

Ha. Father had always said he was an xenophobic.

Wait, what did that mean again?

"Ki, do you know what an xenophobic is?" the tall boy asked randomly, blinking in confusion.

Kyra saw him mutter something that she couldn't really understand then say he was okay. "I just don't like him..."

"You just met him. How can you not like him if you don't even know him at all?" she tried to reason. "There's no way, just no way you could know what he's like without really talking to him."

"Ki, do you know what a xenophobic is?" The girl scrunched her brows in confusion. Why would he want to know?

"It's someone who's afraid of other people intruding, I think. Why do you ask?" She was really confused as to why he wanted to know.

Pierre sighed. "I can tell he's dumber than me- and I know I'm an idiot, Ki- and a player. He's too laid back to have any serious relationships." That, and his mother had told him not to let Jonathan near any of his friends. "My mother doesn't trust him too much either since he goes to a school for Necromancy, apparently. That's the only Australian magic school."


"My father just said I was one whenever we went to Milan or Paris for Fashion Week with Terry and Mother." Pierre shrugged idly, "I never touched any Frenchie or Milan-ite."