Disclaimer: Don't own the characters.
AN: This story is a little disturbing, just as a warning.
Russia tested the rope. It was still good. He looked over his shoulder and beckoned a gloved hand. The prisoner was brought forward. A hood was over the prisoner's face. The wind shook the wooden structure that was little more than a barn. Outside, a blizzard was in full force. There was a huge fire in the center. Russia knew that the log-like shapes weren't logs. They were bodies. The fact no longer chilled his heart. He was just so tired.
The soldiers on both sides of the prisoner led him up the stairs to the center of the platform, right next to Russia. Russia took off the prisoner's hood and slipped the noose over the shorter man's head.
Wide, scared green eyes met Ivan's. Brown hair, unkempt and messy. It was Lithuania. He didn't say anything. Neither did Russia. He looked away as he spoke. He didn't want to have to see Lithuania's face as he told him his fate. He didn't want to see those hurt eyes look reproachfully at him. They'd been together for so long and now it was down to these last few moments.
"On this day, December 31, 2049, you shall die. May God have mercy on your soul."
Russia pulled the lever. The floor dropped from beneath Lithuania's feet. After a few minutes, Lithuania was no more. Soldiers rushed over and removed the shell that once was Lithuania. They threw him into the growing bonfire. Russia fixed the lever, the trapdoor appearing again.
He couldn't remember when they had stopped using guns. It seemed like forever ago. There had been too many to kill. There weren't enough bullets. This had all started because of war. What was the war about anyways? Russia thought it might have been about energy. Or was it bombs? They both sounded the same.
A lot of nations were dead now. Only a very few hung on. It would all be over soon enough. Everyone would become one with Russia, right?
He tested the rope. Still strong.
"Next."
Switzerland was led forward. He merely stared at Russia. He had been witness to Liechtenstein's execution. Switzerland could never forgive Russia for that.
Finland was stony silent. Hadn't he once been a part of Russia? Then, hadn't he fought Russia and somehow won? Ivan couldn't remember.
Little Latvia staggered forward. For once, he wasn't crying. He just stared at Russia with those large hurt eyes.
The fire roared happily with the added fuel. It threw an odd orangey glow on the scene, making it even more surreal.
Politicians were brought forward. Leaders were brought forward. Children were brought forward. Russia placed the noose around their necks and pulled the lever again and again.
The world was dying and there was no one left to cry for it.
Soon, Russia's own people were brought up. Some he hanged. Others were just thrown into the fire. Russia said the same two sentences over and over again.
"On this day, December 31, 2049, you shall die. May God have mercy on your soul."
There was no God. There couldn't be a god. If there had ever been, he must have forsaken the world a long time ago. This was complete and utter destruction. There wouldn't be anyone left. Everyone had ended up killing each other. Russia was just finishing up the job. He was the executioner.
Russia forgot how many he had killed. He lost track. He just looked up and realized that the barn was empty. The wind whistled around the structure. The flames leapt high.
The door opened and a figure stepped in, shaking from the cold. The door closed. The figure walked towards Russia. He stopped by the stairs, staring up at Russia. Sunflower hair. Blue eyes. Glasses. America.
"Ivan."
"Alfred."
They shared a long look. Russia loved America's eyes. They were sad and angry and heartbroken and somehow, despite it all, still adoring. He wasn't afraid.
America walked up the stairs, tossing off his coat. He took a deep breath and took his position. He turned his head as Russia hesitated and smiled.
Russia nodded. He placed the noose over America's head. America grabbed Russia's head and whispered into Ivan's ear. Ivan nodded and stepped back.
"On this day, January, 1, 2050, at 12:01 am, you shall die. May God have mercy on your soul."
Russia pulled the lever. He didn't watch. He couldn't bear to. No tears would fall from Russia's hard eyes. Not even for America. Slowly, he removed America's broken body from the noose. Gingerly, he placed America down on the ground.
They were all gone. Everyone, except for him. Russia put the lever back in its original position and tested the noose. It was still strong.
Russia slipped the noose over his head. He clutched the lever in his left hand. He repeated what America had said.
"Everything will be all right."