"Surrender, Ludwig." Alfred's voice was cold as he pointed the gun toward the other nation. He made no attempt to move, simply glancing around him. He was surrounded on all sides, Alfred in front, Francis and Arthur to his left and right, and Ivan behind him, wielding the large metal pipe he often carried.
Ludwig turned his gaze to Alfred again, staring at the barrel of the gun and then at the younger nation before letting out a sinister sounding chuckle.
"Nein, I don't think I will." Alfred had little time to react before a fist struck him in the face, sending his glasses and the gun to the ground. Then he felt searing pain in his gut as Ludwig's heavy boot struck him, and he let out a hoarse gasp, dropping to his knees and holding his stomach.
Wheezing, he looked up to look at the blurry nation above him and was struck again, sending him completely down.
Dizzy now, Alfred became aware of a wet sensation coming from his nose and saw crimson drops in the dirt by his face.
He heard yelling now and looked, seeing his brothers and Ivan beginning to fight Ludwig….Alfred's vision blurred more, and everything went dark.