Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Cried the boy. He scrambled on the floor like a broken puppet, twisting and turning on the linoleum. "I will, I will!"
"I asked you nicely, Freyr." The man towering over him sneered, nudging the boy with the toe of his boot. He made sure that it made swift contact with his stomach. "It's really too late for apologies now, don't you think?"
Freyr let out a small whimper, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "P-Please! Just leave me alone!"
The man let out a dry laugh, his shoulders heaving back and forth. "You know I can't." He replied, a smile creeping onto his face. "You have something I want, and I won't leave until I have it under my possession."
The man bent down at the boy's head; crouching close enough to see the terror reflected in his eyes. He moved his free hand to Freyr's face, stroking it lovingly with his thumb. "If only Denmark could see you now." Freyr squirmed at the touch, as if searing hot, wiggling as far away from the man as his bound arms would let him.
The hand snaked its way to the boy's dark hair and pulled it upwards, tugging powerfully on the scalp. Freyr lifted himself to his knees, wincing in pain as his head was jerked forward. The tears were now pouring off of his face in torrents, dripping onto the man's boot like rain.
"You're hair is so soft, Freyr." Cooed the man, letting go, and stepping backwards. "It's a shame really, letting go all to waste."
The boy turned his head downwards, casting his blurred gaze to the floor beneath them as he watched the blood and tears drip from his face onto the floor.
"How unfortunate." The man lifted up the pistol clutched in his hand, cocking the gun loudly enough for the boy to hear.
Freyr looked up, and he could feel his heart beat faster against his chest. "You-You wouldn't." He said, his throat dry and rough.
The man aimed his weapon, taking care to see the boy's terror in his dark eyes.
"You don't have to do this!" Freyr screamed; a rising panic in his voice as his face flushed red. "For gods sake, don't! I'll do anything! Please!" He was heaving, panting in a flurry of emotions as more tears came down his face.
The man only grinned, the twisted expression contorting his face. "Say what you want, little Freyr." His index finger pulled on the trigger. "…It won't change the outcome."
There was a dull thud on the floor.
He lowered his gun, wiping the blood on his face with the back of his sleeve. "Really?" He said, lifting a handkerchief from his breast pocket. "Did you really think you stood a chance alone?"
Freyr laid still, blood pooling at his sides, flourishing over his heavy jacket. "C-Ca…" he struggled out, turning his head to face his shooter. "…Na…da…"
He gave one last kick to the boy, silencing him with his newly crimsoned boot.
"Pitiful." Matthew wiped away the speckles of red from his gun, and placed it back in its holster.
Freyr wouldn't be much of a problem now.
Finally, he could take it from him.
Canada could take it from him.
Matthew smiled.
Greenland was finally his.
A/N: OH HO HO, first chapter! I hope that I was able to make this decent enough for you all to read, but I have probably left you all with questions. OH WELL. YOU CAN FIND OUT IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. ;D.
Also, this is set in the future. Maybe the near future, the somewhat far future, I don't know. However, the next chapter will explain the interesting political stances going on.
Oh, and thanks for reading!