"It's….Really cold." Germany was waist-deep in snow, protected only by the icy wind and chilly temperatures by a long overcoat, combat boots, gloves, and his military outfit underneath. He'd be dead within hours if he didn't make a shelter soon.
"You seem surprised, da?"
Germany whirled around, face to face with the towering Russian. His smile was practically painted on his face. He didn't look phased at all by the biting cold, and he was even wearing less then Germany; well, except for that scarf.
"I have a question. How do you stand living here, Mr. Braginski?" Germany asked, his expression placid. Underneath the façade, he was scared. He was honestly afraid, and he was sure Russia knew it. Just….The way Russia looked at him, the way his body was so slack when speaking to him.
"Ah, you really wish to know? You'll be dead soon, anyways. I suppose I can give you a last request," Russia said, rubbing the back of his neck in…embarrassment? What?
Germany gave Russia the look up/down. "By your hands?" he dared question, seeing that all Ivan had on his person was a single water pipe, where Germany had multiple weapons hiding underneath the overcoat. It seemed as if Russia was outmatched, but he knew it was not so.
"No." That was Russia's reply. Just a simple no. No explanation behind it, not even the obvious "Mother Nature will do it" was uttered.
"Then by who's?"
Russia's eyes glittered with child-like glee. "You already know the answer, da?" He sat himself in the snow, expecting Germany to do the same. "The problem is I can't stand living here. I wish for a warmer lifestyle. This place is desolate."
Germany shivered. "Ah, you see? Even you are fazed by this cold, and you are nothing more than fascist scum, with a cold heart of stone. I wish for the world to be unified as one, in peace. And you…You wish for death. I have been trying hard to get people to see that communism, where everyone governs themselves, where no longer will be one classified as trash or jewels. I am quite close to having China see my ways. His people are already accepting of the idea. Why can't your people see that?" Russia was now talking more to himself then Germany, but out of respect, the invading country listened.
It was getting colder.
"Hah. Now I am feeling sentimental. Before I leave you—to die—why are you fascist scum?" Russia chuckled, blissfully unaware of the dropping temperature.
"What do you mean?"
Russia's expression hardened. "Why don't you think as I? Why must you be wrong with your views?"
"I want a perfect world, like you, yes?" Germany smugly replied. "Only…Only there will be a pure race. An Aryan race. You. You are impure, both in thought and looks. You're sickening."
"Oh, but it is you who is the sickening one. You don't even see it, but you are losing the war in Europe. One by one, your allies are leaving your side, dropping like flies." Russia pulled out a German military helmet and tossed it to his opponent. It was speckled with dried blood.
"I've damaged your forces almost as well, do not forget this!" Germany spat, clutching the helmet to his chest and practically seething.
"Not well enough."
Bang.
Where did the gun come from? Germany held onto his left shoulder, where the bullet wound was oozing sticky liquid.
"As I said, I will not kill you. You are killing yourself." Russia dropped his gun in the snow, turning his back on Germany and walking off.
"Very well, Mr. Braginski. I shall see you in hell."
Another gunshot.