The Hand of Chuck Norris
Location: Moscow, Russia
Time: September, 2008
In a Cold War-era warehouse deep in one of Moscow's red-light districts, three people sat around a lonely poker table, cards in hand. One of them looked no more then 15, with sandy hair and shaking hands; the man to his right looked to be 20 or maybe slightly older. The last of them was in his mid-30's, long trench coat and scarf hiding his face. Their names?
Latvia, Estonia, and Russia.
"Royal Flush," Russia smiled as he laid his hand on the scarred wood. Estonia paled. Latvia swallowed and glanced at his cards. A smirk suddenly light up his face.
"CHUCK NORRIS, BITCH!" The small country yelled as he threw his hand down in front of him. Russia stared into the face of Chuck Norris with a blank expression.
'…The fuck?' Russia thought as he quirked an eyebrow. He was suddenly toppled backwards by an uppercut from small little, Latvia. The large man cracked his head against the tile and was knocked unconscious. Estonia stood up and watched as Latvia strolled over to the unmoving country.
"Remember that Estonia. Chuck Norris's hand beats all," Latvia quietly explained. He bent over and began to dig through the pockets of Russia's coat.
"But…how did you do that?" Estonia asked, clearly amazed.
"I switched hands when Russia wasn't looking. You'd be amazed at how oblivious he is. There's his wallet! Come on Estonia, let's go," Latvia ordered as they walked out of the warehouse and into the night, Russia's money pocketed.