A/N: Hi, guys, KameradKorea here. This actually started out as a one-shot and then it turned into... this. Enjoy?

In The Beginning

"Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun."

Before I can tell you about the disastrous event that took place in early December of my eleventh school year, I should probably start simple.

I'll start by introducing my... friends.

Let me tell you that high school is divided into groups. Especially my school. And most certainly during lunch. We are a nation - err, school - divided.

Question: Who do I sit with, you ask?

Answer: The 'Communists.'

Really, though, I'm not a Communist. I'm Russian. And my name is Ivan Braginsky. So with my accent, people just assume, I guess. Take, for example, Alfred Jones. He's really loud and annoying and eats a lot of McDonald's, so people just assume he's American. Oh, wait a second...

Anyway, the normal Communist Table consists of six people (unfortunately).

1) Me.

2) Katyusha Braginskaya, who is always making tearful speeches about how she loves us and how we cannot be defined by society. She's a joy to deal with alright. I also have to share the same last name as her, which is slightly frustrating. Well, not to English-speakers, I suppose. But to Russians and Ukrainians, as we are - yes.

3) Natalia Arlovskaya, who has been madly in love with me since she moved to the United States (and whom I shall avoid at any cost, even death).

4) Toris Laurinaitis, who has been madly in love with Natalia since she moved to the United States. I am sensing a love triangle.

5) Eduard von Bock, who swears to this day that I broke his computer. I blame Toris.

6) Raivis Galante, who is about five feet shorter than a normal person. He is always stuttering. He cannot look me in the eyes.

Oh, and on occasion:

7) Gilbert Beilschmidt, who very rarely leaves the German-speaking section of the cafeteria to come over and announce how amazing he is. Usually with an exceedingly noisy, "I don't know if you Russians missed it, but I'm extremely awesome! And you are not!" Then he runs off and eats wurst and Nutella.

I can find several things wrong with this sentence. Gilbert is not awesome. We are not all Russians. And remember this: we do not miss anything.

Okay, I'll move on. So, let me start by saying we are very susceptible to hatred. Someone once left a note for us that said BETTER DEAD THAN RED. Katyusha cried. Natalia got suspended for three days for standing on a chair and announcing to the cafeteria that she was going to find out who wrote the note and kill them.

We're some pretty messed up people.

Maybe that's why investigations and rumors targeted us.

It's a normal Friday, albeit a very bitter, cold December one. Winter break is approaching quickly, which means our final exams are imminent. Natalia arrives at the table with her lunch tray, grinning like the disturbed soul she is. "Ivan, guess what?"

I do not care. I take out my phone and ignore her completely.

This never stops her. She says, "Someone invited me to a party."

I snort. "Your lies amuse me."

"I'm not lying."

"No one would invite you to a party."

"Gilbert Beilschmidt did."

I look up from my LCD screen, truly surprised. "What? Why?"

Katyusha arrives next, smiling. "What are you talking about?"

"Natalia's going to a party, apparently." I shake my head and return to my phone. Katyusha claps her hands. "Yes, Natty! A party? Oh, you're so adorable! You're growing up! This is-"

"Shut up. I hate you. Don't call me Natty," Natalia snaps.

Tears form in Katyusha's eyes. Raivis arrives and halfheartedly comforts her. I roll my eyes while Natalia curses under her breath.

I hate this. I hate these people. Sometimes I wish I were from a different country so I could sit at another table. Maybe if I worked on my accent for a few months, I could pass as one of those Scandinavian coffee-addicts or something.

"Ivan," Natalia says, speaking loudly over Katyusha's sobbing, "the point is - you're invited, too."

I shake my head. "Like I want to go to one of Beilschmidt's stupid parties. I hate Gilbert."

"Yeah, well, it'd get you some points on the popularity scale, which you could kind of use," Eduard says. I glare at him and he backpedals. "I mean, uh..."

"Don't!" Katyusha exclaims through her tears. "You are more than popularity - your social status should not define who you are!"

Natalia kicks Katyusha in the leg and she winces. At least she shuts up. It's about time.

"Anyway," Natalia says to me, "do you think you want to come?"

"Well, if you're going to be there, no," I reply. I honestly don't know why my comments don't scare Natalia off. My goal - yes, it's mean - but my goal is to one day hurt her feelings so much that she leaves me alone forever. It's harder than you'd think.

Natalia seems unfazed. "You know Gilbert's address, right? You have it all?"

"What time are you going, Natalia?" Toris asks.

Natalia glares at him. "You are not invited. If you show up, I will cut you."

Two funny things about my darling Ms. Arlovskaya - she has a really thick Belarusian accent, but she has a knack for saying 'cut' like 'cuuuht' with this weird Southern lilt. And she's just as mean to Toris as I am to her.

"S-s-sorry!" Toris exclaims.

"I'm not going," I say. "Final. I have things to do."

Raivis laughs nervously. "L-like what? Figuring out how to get away with murder?"

Now here's something about Raivis: he's really fun to scare. And it's really easy.

I smile. "Now, Raivis, what makes you think I haven't already done that?"

I see his jaw drop, and I stand up, starting to walk to my next class. Natalia tells me to wait; Katyusha says, "You were joking, right?!"

Oh, how I wish our school wasn't so divided! How I wish I were someone else!

As I walk to the cafeteria exit, I collide with someone. I apologize, but there doesn't seem to be anyone there.

I shrug and take off down the hallway, but I swear I can feel someone watching me.

Call it instinct, but I feel something bad is approaching, much in the way that dogs can sense a storm on the way...