This is the end.

Ludwig sat hunched over in the small bunker somewhere in the outskirts of his heart, his Berlin. He could feel the invading nations slowly gaining on him, but the continual bombings of his capital made it impossible to escape.

Besides him was the still-smoking gun that he had just used to end the lives of his maniac of a boss and his wife. As he sat there shaking like a leaf he tried to apply some form of bandage of his newly acquired wound that he shared with said boss. Carefully wrapping, so not to start the flow of blood again, only to nudge the bullet wound when another bomb landed in his heart.

Squinting through the pain, Ludwig tried to ignore his other wounds throughout his body caused by the deaths of his people and the deaths of others within his country.

'Work makes free'. God above did he wish that phrase was true. Ludwig knew, and his people knew, that after the bombings stopped, none of them would have freedom. Mein Gott… he had wasted six years of his life for THIS?

When he finally finished wrapping up his wounds, he forced himself to remind himself that his was the best cause of action. He had no hope in a fight against the Allies, especially now he had truly ticked off the Russian. He could barely walk for goodness sake! He also had no-one else to rely on. He knew his beloved Prussian, Gilbert, had been captured by Ivan after the battle of Stalingrad. After hearing of the loss on the Eastern front, he had heard nothing from his brother. Goodness knows what the Russian was doing to him. It was too painful to think about.

Then there was Feli-. No. He couldn't bare to think about that useless Italian who had abandoned him when he most needed him. That scheißer had surrendered as soon as the Allies invaded his lands. Italy had deserved the bombs he received from his former ally, and Ludwig wished that it hurt him and his bastard brother as much as his own bombings hurt him, as much as the betrayal hurt him.

Ludwig then thought of Kiku, his last remaining friend. They had both made an agreement to do whatever they could to end the war, but fighting as long as they could without showing any weaknesses to the Allies. It was only Kiku and himself that knew of the only Japan had bombed America's Pearl Harbour was to finally include Alfred into the war so it could finally end. Thinking about Kiku made Ludwig's heart hurt again, this time from sorrow as he knew he was leaving his only friend in the continual war, but he just couldn't keep going on, he had no strength left.

Then he thought about his other ex-allies and his captured countries. He had finally persuaded Roderich and his wife Elizaveta to run back to their own homes. They were family, so Ludwig had tried his best to save them from the up-coming end. Although he knew they were safe, he wished dearly that they could be here to help him escape from the up-coming doom.

Those poor countries he had captured against his will, and by his bosses wish, were in so much pain and looked dreadful even compared to him. Those poor nations of the likes of Francis and Feliks. The last he had seen of them was when they were unconscious and passed out from the wounds that his own men, and occasionally himself, had caused. He had kindly taken them back to their own homes after drugging them. He didn't want to hurt them anymore. Of course he had kept his stoic demure when around them; he wanted them to think it was all part of his evil plan, not wanting any kind of kindness when this war was all over.

He gasped in pain. He last few bombs were landing and he felt the Russian nearby. It wouldn't be long now until he was discovered. He quickly, as quickly as he could manage, stuffed the gun in his boss's hand. He wanted it to look like suicide. But after jolting the wounds as soon as he sat back down, he accidentally knocked himself into unconscious. The pain was just too great to stay awake through. The last thing he saw was the door opening and seeing that scarf blowing in the wind as the smoke billowed in…