World war II was no longer a threat, much to the relief of all the townsfolk whom had witnessed the horror and utter devastation, be it town folk, country folk or the soldiers themselves.
However all was not at peace as humans seemed to have an awful knack of getting on each other's nerves, leading to them eventually being at each other's throats with rusty blades and or other wonderful sharp implements of choice.

A new conflict had begun. One which would be remembered always between the two countries involved, at least. Neither of which would give up the bitter feeling they'd always have for each other despite what their governments peace policy would state in the near future.
This conflict was baptised as 'The cold war'.

Two of the world's greatest super powers; the democratic, capitalist United states and the Communist Soviet Union of Russia, against each other.
Each side's reasons to have a go at one another, one could say were rather childish perhaps.
Both sought to prove the superiority of their technology in warheads as well as political and economic systems.
It was to take a half Century before this 'trouble' was to die down.
Both sides wished to avoid military confrontation, though sadly it wasn't the case that they could avoid it. Lives were to be lost, people were to be injured and scars were to remain in every man's mind.

Somewhere in the red square an alarm clock rung unceremoniously on the nightstand next to a platinum blonds bed.
A brief utterance of mild expletives in Russian could be barely detected as a large hand crashed down on top of the poor little offending contraption, shutting it off effectively.
Komdiv Ivan Braginski reluctantly sat up from his unfairly warm bed and glanced out the window at the first few flakes of snow which were beginning to paint the landscape white.
To people who weren't used to such privileges they'd be jumping for joy at the beautiful sight however there were two very important things to note about the said male.
One he hated snow, two he hated the cold.
Needless to say he wasn't impressed with the 'winter wonderland', but it was beyond his power to wish for the climate to change.

Back to the present;
His Soviet uniform lay neatly folded on the cushioned golden chair which was against the door for two reasons one of them being his sister liked to pop in unexpectedly on him while he was sleeping.
He was to attend a military gathering today which was to be held in the Kremlin HQ. Given the current weather he assumed it would be acceptable to just stick with his ushanka today, he needn't wear the regular Green hat with red and gold hammer and sickle design.
Following various conflicts between them and the US it had been decided that it was best for them to make their 'move' now. Hence the reason behind such an important meeting.
Signing to himself he got out of bed, the first thing that bothered him was the fact that the floor was like ice despite it being carpeted.

Psh, he'd have to have a 'kind' word with the housekeepers later about ensuring that each room be kept at a cosy temperature instead of having it like an icebox.
Glancing in the mirror above the fireplace he proceeded to fix his slightly fluffy blond hair properly so as it would look presentable in front of his Military superiors and peers.
He gave his reflection a brief distant stare; his amethyst eyes showed neither interest or happiness, it was described once indirectly to him that his eyes were soulless. Maybe they were, he didn't care. That's the way they'd always been, or at least as far as he could remember.

He'd had a rather dark childhood, though that's not to be discussed right away.
As a result he'd blacked out some of his old memories, as much as he'd like to recall certain events they'd only come to him in snippets.
The division he was in charge of seemed to cower in fear from the giant of a man that was Ivan.

The grandfather clock chimed eight times in the hallway. He had a half an hour left to get to his meeting, that didn't faze him. It was a mere dash across the street.
Having gone through the ritual of washing, dressing and grooming he found that he looked presentable enough to exit his abode.
He'd stop by at the nearby 'Kofye' shop and pick something up for breakfast.
Stepping outside his front door he was met with the current weather however he didn't feel anything as he was completely and utterly shielded from the partially nippy winds which seemed to try to sneak their way down people's backs.

Icicles had already started to form on some of the many lamp posts which also added to the wintry setting.
He dodged a couple of children, on his way, that were caught up in an army themed snow ball fight.
Smiling his usual child-like grin at the game they were playing, he shook his head. He'd have assumed the children would have grown weary of playing anything Army themed, though he couldn't necessarily blame them. He too enjoyed army games, especially when his opponents were beaten down before him. There was nothing he enjoyed more than to hear others beg for mercy or breathe their final agonised breaths. Of course one would be mistaken to assume he was a merciless psychopath-he was far from that, in this world the general motto was 'Kill or be Killed' it was as simple as that.

{Authors note:
Okies so this is Chapter one done and dusted. Review please and there shall be another Chapter created~
This story's based off a RP I had going on with an Alfred months ago, sadly it's quite dead so I've decided to put it into a story-it was one of my favourite RP's that I'd done to date and it would've been a shame to let it die ne?
Also yes. In case you're wondering I had to re-do this chapter slightly as I'd spotted several mistakes Dx

I do not own any of the Hetalia characters, the Anime or the manga-all rights go to Hidekaz Himaruya.
I just own my imagination and such :3}