A/N: Remember, I'm a DISCLAIMER! I do NOT own Hetalia Axis Powers or Hetalia World Series, and I'm just an obsessive fangirl writing a fanfic.
None if this is historically based (hell, I don't even like American history-and guess what I am), so don't point out inaccuracy, cause there is none!
Two figures are standing in the midsts of a wonderland of snow. The winds are howling, and their scarves and overcoats are flapping like tattered flags. The one taller than the other pushes his beige hair out of his face, while the other, mysterious being, holds itself to refrain from shivering violently.
"So what do you say Russia, want to make amends and be friends with us?" the cloaked silhouette spoke as the wind whipped at them harder.
"Who did you say you represented again?" Ivan asked the figure as he squinted his violet eyes. He was trying to make out the outlines of the face that was hidden 'neath the layers of cloth.
"I came on behalf of America," the figure saluted courteously.
"Why would Alfred send YOU? You don't sound intimidating at all. You sound like...like... a devushka!"
"I sound like a girl?"
"Da!"
"Oh..." the figure said as it gave a sudden shiver.
If there's anything you should know now, it's this; never show weakness in the midst of a Russian.
Ivan gave the silhouette a wicked, childish grin, and spoke to it condensendingly, "You also behave like one too. Kolkolkolkol." Then he pushed the silhouette into the snow that was enveloping their knees. It merely squirmed and tried to use its arms to push itself out of the thick, hard snow. This attempt failed as the poor silhouette merely pushed itself deeper into the depths of the white abyss. Ivan merely cackled harder, said his departing words of, "Just like a weak Amerikanskaya," and whipped his scarf back from his face. Then he merely strutted off into the mists of the snow.
The figure squirmed a bit more until it realized that it's efforts were useless. Then it turned upon it's side, and curled into the fetal position. It was then that it decided that it should do one thing, and one thing only, die in a warm coccoon of self-pity.
Feliks assured himself that his trip was well worth it. "Dude, Ivan TOTALLY went too far! Beating Toris! MY TORIS! Well you know what Ivan? I'm so-TOTALLY-gonna kick your vodka a-" Feliks stopped talking because he could swear-SWEAR!-he just saw something move in the snow. He squinted his eyes a bit more, and shielded them from the snow as he scanned the perimenter for whatever the hell was moving, then he saw it again. It was a black flag, cape, or bag that was flapping in the wind.
"Holy shit," he said as he held his gun and inched forward to whatever it was. Once Feliks was right in front of the black-thingy?-, he shifted his gun barrel about until he could find where it came from. He then began to poke about in the snow until he poked something hard, and our beloved silhouette shot up. Both instinctively screamed, and Feliks pulled the trigger. Fortunately enough, he was shooting blanks.
The silhouette was breathing frantically until it gave a deep moan and collapsed back into the snow. "Dude, dude," Feliks said as he poked at the still-being. "Did you just die on me?"
The wind whistled a bit more, and Feliks rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine then, I guess I'll take you home anyways..."
He picked up the baggy silhouette, and noticed it's dark arms. "Awesome!" Feliks yelled at the-possibly-dead being. "This is like my first time-ever!-meeting somebody from like, Africa!" he said as he pulled it closer to him and began his long trip back to his home...
A/N: Hope you liked it in all it's shortness! I'll possibly write more tomorrow, cause I need to deal with my awful hair now.