"Attack!" a man with soft blonde hair and gorgeous violet eyes ordered. He was clutching a pipe faucet, knuckles white with anticipation. A few other men charged foreword, weapons poised towards the sun. One of them slowed down almost immediately before switching his gun for a crudely crafted white flag. He dropped to the ground and started bawling. The faucet holding man snorted, how could someone not enjoy war?
"Hot dog! How could you not protect me?" another man with glasses whined. He was slapping someone with a hunk of meat wrapped in bread and covered with mustard. After being thwarted by the other men he resorted to shoving the hot dog down his throat and pulling cracking open a bottle of cola. He smashed it open on the purple eyed man's head on accident, not realizing who it was.
"Russia!" someone cried. Russia dropped to his knees but quickly collected himself and went charging at his attacker. However, instead of seeing a handsome blonde boy with glasses nervously waving a broken bottle around, a young woman stood directly in Russia's line of fire.
"Hi!" the girl piped, waving frantically. She was short, but not stout. Her hair was stark black and puffy, covered with a crookedly placed top hat. '10/6' was scribbled on a chunk of paper and tucked in golden band of her cap. She wore a blue and gold waistcoat which sat over a fluffy white dress. A pair of knee-length black boots laced with bright red ribbon peeked over a set of purple and pink striped stockings. Her smile was innocent and child-like, as if she had never grown up. Russia tried to stop, but he was already in mid-swing. A split second later, the girl was sprawled out on grass with a stream of scarlet blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. She lifted up her head, her big blue eyes widening just barely before fluttering shut. Her head flopped limply to the ground with a loud thunking noise.
"Whossat?" the glasses wearing boy mumbled over a mouthful of potato chips. "Oh my god! Russia you totally killed her!"
"I accidentally hit her..." Russia corrected softly.
"Well... As long as she's unconscious..." a man in a big purple cape cackled. He reached down, licking his lips in an extremely perverse way. Russia stuck out one hand to stop him.
"Not very good idea, France." he smiled. France shied away immediately, terrified of what would happen if he challenged Russia's words. The boy with glasses knelt down and began poking her, forcefully, with a twig. Another man, this one with bushy eyebrows and green eyes, pulled the girl away and picked her up.
"She's been hurt rather badly, I vouch we take her to a hospital." he said in a thick British accent. The man brushed the hair off her forehead gingerly and marched foreword. Each one of them seemed to have forgotten about the battle at hand, leaving the white flag waving boy to be dragged away by his allies. It was strange how quickly their quarrel had ended, but it wasn't the first time that had happened. Though it certainly was the first time they'd found such an extravagantly dressed woman. Britain started to huff and puff, hardly able to continue after a moment or two. Russia kindly took the girl off his hands.
"Allow me." he smiled, lifting her up like she was no more than a feather.
It's a little short and kind of rough, but hang in. Reviews are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!