"Come on, Ukraine, it's, like, the best game ever!" a loud male voice pleaded. The owner of that voice, a tall man with wheat-brown hair, was waving a disc in his companion's face.

"Mr. America, I have no time for such things, I just wanted the notes from the last meeting. I cannot stay very long," argued the woman, though meekly. It wasn't the truth, but she didn't want to play video games at times like this. She wanted to hurry up, get home, and…

And what? Sit there, sleep, read a book, feel sorry for herself for being so alone all the time? Maybe it wouldn't hurt to be with someone for a change. Maybe the game is fun…

"Come on, Ukraine, you always avoid everyone, what are you so afraid of? With a brother like Russia, you shouldn't be afraid of anything," Alfred went on, saying the last sentence in an uncharacteristically quiet tone.

"W-Well," she replied, "I suppose it couldn't hurt—"

"All right!" he shouted, grabbing her hand and pulling her into his house. She let out a small shriek, but he didn't seem to notice past his own blabbering about how "awesome" his new video game was. She had meant the visit to be short, just to get notes from the last World Meeting that she had missed. Now she could have kicked herself for choosing Alfred to go to. He never wrote down notes anyway—the most he did was draw ridiculous cartoony doodles of England being eaten by various animals.

Before she knew it she was shoved onto a worn yet comfortable sofa and having a game controller tossed her way. She caught it, but barely, and looked at her hands for a moment, amazed that she had.

"What, never played a PlayStation before?"

"Well, no—"

"Oh, I get it. 'Cause you're a girl…" he stood in front of her for a moment, holding his chin as if considering something. Then his face lit up and he turned to her. "Well, it's my duty as a hero and just a generally amazing person to teach you how to play Black Ops!"

"Play what?" she started to ask, before getting interrupted yet again. If she had had the patience of her sister, this man would be bleeding on the floor by now.

"You know, the game we're going to play."

"Oh…" she said, as he put the disc in the game console and picked up another controller identical to the one she held.

"Okay, so you hold it like this…" he began, rearranging the woman's fingers around the controller with his own and shooting off which buttons did what. "See? You'll get it."
"I h-hope so," she replied quietly, involuntarily blushing from the slight contact.

"Woah, your face is red. Don't be scared, it's just a game," he said, grinning mischievously.

Thank God he's not too bright… she thought, her mouth twitching into a slight smile. The television flickered on, and Alfred hit a button, choosing something off a title screen. His sky blue eyes were focused on the screen, and she couldn't help watching his face. He's never this attentive at World Meetings.

A loud burst of music made her jump, and she turned her head again to the television. Alfred laughed again.

"God, Yekaterina, you're so scared!"

She blushed again, but in the harsh glow of the television, he didn't notice. There were two sections on the screen now, and in each was a pair of hands holding a gun.

"Okay, see, these are the characters—"

It was her turn to interrupt. "Wait, which is me?"

He laughed again, "I am the hero, Ukraine, and heroes are always on top!"

"Oh."

"Okay, the Nazi zombies and going to start coming in through—"

"The what!"

"The hero is talking!" He was a little annoyed at her sudden outbursts, and she carefully kept quiet through the rest of his explanation. "See, the Nazi zombies are going to come in through these boarded-up doors. You gotta shoot 'em, get it? Like I told you."

Yekaterina nodded, her short blond hair falling in her face. Then she let out a small shriek, hearing a scream from the game.

"Yup, that's one, get it!"

"H-How?"

"Like I showed you! This button!" He took her hands and guided her fingers over two of them and pressed them. A loud gunshot hit her ears from the speakers and an ugly, bloodied man-thing (Nazi zombie, she remembered,) lay on the floor in the game. She felt her heart jump, both from relief and from the warmth of his hands over hers.

"Think you can do it? There's way more coming!" he said, releasing her hands, "Just remember what I showed you, 'kay?"

"I s-suppose so," she said, her voice barely audible over the sounds of rapid shooting from Alfred's character's gun. One of the zombie squealed in apparent anguish and collapsed to the floor. It was really quite disgusting to the Ukrainian woman. Maybe I just need to get out more, her mind sighed.

"Yeah! See, you got one!" he cheered, pointing to the screen. While distracted, she had taken out one of the zombies on her own. "You're not up to hero status, but you're better than most girls, probably. You're already better than Mattie, anyway," the American was saying, but she wasn't paying much attention.
"Where are the other ones?" she asked, craning her neck to look at the screen for more lurching figures in the distance of the virtual room.

"Be patient, they're coming," he replied, his voice mock-cryptic. He took advantage of the quiet spell to look at Yekaterina more closely. With her teal-colored eyes wide and her mouth slightly open, she looked as if she was afraid that the computer generated monsters were going to crawl through the screen and attack her if she didn't keep a careful watch. It would have made him laugh if she didn't look so… sexy? No, cute. He smiled. He rarely saw a grown woman who was cute.

"Mr. America, watch out!" she cried, making him face the television again just in time to shoot a couple of zombies who were running at him, screaming. As they collapsed, Yekaterina sighed with relief. Then she shrieked at a sound coming from directly behind her, deafeningly loud.

"Ukraine! It's just the phone!" Alfred said, laughing obnoxiously. Then he paused the game, stood up, and walked over to answer the call.

"Hello?" he practically sang as Yekaterina turned around to watch him, peeking over the top of the sofa. Alfred caught her eye for a second, and then went unfocused, his smile disappearing.

"H-Hey, Russia, 'sup? …Uh, why? …Well, yeah, she's here—"

He reeled back, holding the phone away from him as if it was a live snake. The Ukrainian woman recognized the voice on the other end as, of course, Ivan, her brother. He was yelling incomprehensively.

"U-Uh, I'm sorry Mr. America, I think I should leave now…"

"Tell your psycho bastard brother that!"

"Okay, okay," she whispered, taking the phone. The screaming had died down a bit. "Brother?"

"Katyusha." Ivan's voice on the other line had changed completely, sounding completely loving and caring. She knew what lay under it, though, and swallowed hard. "Why are you not at home?"

"Well, I had t-to get something from Mr. America," she said, stumbling over her words.

"Get what? You've been gone for two hours. That is long enough to get anything." Something dangerous was slipping from the carefree tone he had used before. "Come home now. I do not want you with that filthy idiotic American," he said savagely, spitting out the last word.

"Of course, Brother," she said, trying to sound cheerful, trying to sound like she wasn't basically being threatened on the other line.

"I hope to be seeing you in thirty minutes."

"Goodbye, Ivan," she said, carefully hanging up the phone. She hadn't had him talk to her like that in… ages? No, he had never spoken to her so angrily. She had never given him a reason to.

"I must go, Mr. America, thank you for having me," she said softly, smiling at him.

"It's Alfred," he replied, grinning, "You'll be okay?"

"Oh, ta, he's not angry," she lied.

"Well… I'll see you some other time, I guess," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. She saw slight red on his face.

"I hope so," she replied, hesitantly reaching out her arm to shake his hand. That's what Americans do, right?

He looked at her strangely for a moment before realizing what she was doing. He grabbed her hand and pulled her against him in a tight, friendly hug which made her gasp. He chuckled.

"Good night, Miss Ukraine."

"G-Good n-night, Alfred."