A/N: Ok, straight up this story begins with crazy/deranged Russia, not to give too much away, but please note 'BEGINS'. Sorry for the ooc moments, no hate, peeps, let's keep this awesome!

Anyone coming across Ivan Braginsky that evening would have turned tail and fled for their lives. Even slamming open the front door (that cracked from the force), his dark aura was pulsing around him like a heartbeat and his eyes glittered with murderous fury. It really was unfair, the way he was treated sometimes by the other nations; like a monster who couldn't be trusted with the simplest of plans. Well, that annoying, capitalist, arrogant American had been truly infuriating that evening, and Russia certainly felt monstrous. Thoughts of how to torture that American, how to hurt him, see him screaming for mercy, floated through Russia's mind as he wandered through the house, searching for…he wasn't sure what. The anger coursing through his veins was practically controlling him, and as Ivan got to the study, he found himself drawn to the desk, and to his favourite little pipe resting innocently there.
In his hands, all Russia could see was how well blood spatters would suit it. But there was no-one around, it was well past midnight, and even Belarus wasn't around to pester him. Russia smiled; it was a smile to make the sun shiver and even the bravest person cower. He laid his pipe back down on the desk, gently, and considered which Baltic to wake up. Well, someone deserved to hear his rant, surely, and Russia was full to the brim with seething rage that just begged to be released, so who would it be…?

"Little Latvia?" he wondered aloud. No, he had already been scolded today. The youngest Baltic had broken another plate and had been sobbing by the time Russia had released his hair. So then, Lithuania or Estonia? Deciding with that smile on Lithuania, he started up the stairs to the upper floor of his mansion, where the bedrooms were, already planning exactly how to vent his anger. Striding down the plush red-carpeted corridor, Russia stopped dead in his tracks as, out of no-where, a clear thought came into his mind.

"Estonia wears the same kind of glasses as that American." Just a simple observation, and suddenly his fury was bubbling again. He could practically see the glint of those lenses as Alfred flung his head back laughing at the Russian, and he changed course, opening the second door quietly. It was dark, but it was so late that the moon was shining in through a crack in the curtains, and it provided just enough light for Russia to see where he was going, to the bed where the Estonian lay curled up, fast asleep and oblivious to what was to come. Russia loomed over him and contemplated. Those despised glasses were sitting on the bedside table, and he picked them up, tempted to smash them right there and then. But that would take the fun out, wouldn't it?
Turning back, Russia acted quickly. He grabbed Estonia by the neck, clamping a hand over his mouth even as he did so and dragged him out of the bed, out of the room, down the stairs, and flung him to the ground in the study, slamming the door behind him.
Eduard was now fully awake and cried out at this harsh treatment, but suddenly the pipe was back in Russia's hands and centimetres from his face.

"You will want to be quiet, da?" Russia's voice was soft, but Estonia was already trembling and nearly white with fear, because he knew what that tone of voice really meant. "Da?" The Russian spoke more forcefully this time, tapping the Estonian's cheek with the pipe non-too-gently.

"D-da?" Eduard whispered, but this was apparently the wrong answer, as the blow from the pipe was from the sharper edge, and struck his cheek nearly hard enough to break skin. Wordlessly, Russia dropped his glasses in front of him, and acting purely on instinct, Estonia put them on. This was his second mistake. Russia was almost enveloped by his menacing aura, his eyes seemed alight with a purple fire, and the air around them seemed colder. Time stood still as the Russian wielded his faucet pipe.
Then the atmosphere shattered as he brought it down on the Estonian, revelling in the cry of pain it produced. Putting his hardened boots to the test, he kicked the Baltic in the chest, hard, and the blood spatters coughed from his mouth only drove Russia further with his hits, punches, kicks and blows from the pipe. But as he gripped Eduard around the neck with just one hand and held him up in the air to survey his work, Russia found he still wasn't satisfied.

"Look at me." He snarled at the whimpering man. When Estonia still didn't open his eyes, Russia chucked him back down to the ground and stood on his arm, hard. The snap of bone could be heard even over Eduard's screams, and Russia felt a smile creep on to his mouth at that. How right that sounded…
"Look at me!" he ordered harshly. Slowly, Eduard forced his eyelids to open a crack, then wider as he realised that the Russian had pulled his favourite knife from his pocket, and said weapon was pressed against his face, just along his cheekbone where the rim of his glasses rested. Suddenly Russia's scary smile vanished in favour of renewed fury as he brutally snatched the glasses off his face, crushed them in his hands and pierced the Estonian's pale skin with the blade. "You shouldn't wear glasses like America does!" Russia crowed in a sing-song voice, again delighted by the scream from the Baltic below him. Whipping the knife away, he briefly studied the ruby-red liquid dripping from the sharp edge and mused out loud, "My my my…you have such pretty blood, Estonia."

A seemingly sweet smile. A terrifying aura. Seven horrible words.

"Let's see more of it, shall we?"

A/N: *le gasp* sorry for being so inactive and stuff, here's the apology! Ok, next chapter's up, hopefully there's some good times for these guys... ;)

Anyhoo, drop a review, tell me what you think, share the pasta :D