Countries don't die like humans do... This one also snuck up on me.
---
Different leaders had different reactions, when they figured it out. When he was younger, the old leaders had thought him a sign from the gods, proof of their right to rule. He was coveted then, a holy child who bestowed blessings; those who possessed him were obviously favored. Shortly after Christianity took hold, back when the world was still dark and full of fearsome things, some rulers thought him a powerful demon with his bright unnatural eyes. They hid him from the priests and wouldn't let him into the Church, for fear he'd burst into flames and perish. But those sentiments too passed, although Nicholas had muttered an oath and crossed himself when the truth had dawned on him.
But his current boss had no such superstitions to keep him at bay. The man feared no god's wrath, ruling his people with an iron grip, relentless in the pursuit of progress. So it surprised him somewhat when his boss addressed the nature of his being.
"Tovarishch Bragniski…"
Russia looked up at the man seated behind the desk. "Da, tovarishch?" Sometimes he missed the first-name basis he had with Nicholas, but he told himself it didn't matter.
The stern man looked almost thoughtful, a dark wonder burning in his eyes. "You… do not age, do you?"
The country blinked. He had not expected that. "Nyet…" he answered slowly, wondering where this would go.
"You have… always been this way?"
Why the sudden curiosity? "Nyet, tovarishch. I was a child once."
"When?"
Russia paused, considering. "Ninth century to maybe… the fourteenth?"
His boss was silent. He was getting old, Russia realized abruptly. He was frightened of death.
"Things that would kill a normal person do not harm you."
Even though it was not a question Russia felt obliged to answer, "Da—" and surprise just barely had time to register as the man whipped out a gun—
BANG
Russia's eyes fluttered, gaze focusing on the ceiling, his head tilted back. Slowly, he looked forward, a rivulet of blood dribbling down his face from the hole in his forehead; his boss sat calmly at his desk, pistol resting on the polished surface.
"It never stops hurting," Russia said duly, feeling the wound knit itself back together. "It never stops hurting."
His boss just stared at him with a contemplative expression, and Russia had the suspicion that something very unfortunate had just occurred.
---
Considering that the countries have been shown to fight in their wars, they'd have to be immune to this sort of thing. There's no way they'd be so lucky as to have never been fatally shot once, especially Russia, who's history tells of a catastrophic loss of life during battle.
Vocab:
tovarishch- comrade
da- yes
nyet- no
(But you knew those last two already, da?)