I had this sucker running in my head for a bit, so I thought I'd throw it out there. I'll consider this a conclusion to my contemporary Russia story. NOTE: this isn't really a stand alone story. For full references, refer to my other stories, A Gift of the Heart and National Interest. As always, I enjoy reviews, both the good and the critical. Feel free to rip this one to shreds, folks, cause it is perhaps the furthest any of my stories wandered from the original Hetalia characterizations.
The winter wind whipped about the Red Square, carrying flurries of drift snow in its wake. People hurried past Russia, avoiding his bulk without thought on their way to restaurants and shops and homes. Russia pulled up the sleeve of his overcoat and checked his watch.
"Late," he muttered, hunkering into his scarf. "I have never known him to be the type."
A wave caught his eye as the nation he was to meet walked briskly towards him.
"I'm sorry for being so tardy," the country said. "I had another meeting. I hope you weren't -"
"Why meet here and not in my office or home?" Russia said, cutting the country off. "This is very suspicious, my friend. If you were anyone else -"
"But I'm not, right?" the country beamed up at Russia. "I thought we could exchange a nice word or two, but if you'd prefer to get right to it..."
Russia said nothing.
"Very well! Russia, I'm in a little, tiny bit of a pickle, and I need your help."
Russia narrowed his eyes.
"MY help? Why mine? You have others..."
"It can't be anyone else," the country said, cutting the air with his hand. "You're the only one with the skill set I need. Your history, your military, your -"
"I am not liking the things you are saying, friend," Russia said, narrowing his eyes and leaning over the other nation. "What does my history have to do with your needs?"
"Well, your madness for one thing. It'll be quite useful!" The country reached into his pocket and pulled out an intricately carved box.
Russia breathed in sharply.
"How did you get that?" he said, snatching at the box. The other nation jumped back, avoiding Russia's large, mittened hand.
"It was the reason I was so late," the nation said cheerfully. "Do you know how difficult it was to acquire? Thank you for waiting so long in the cold!"
The nation opened the box and pulled out two broken necklaces: one a golden, oval locket with a field of sunflowers etched in its surface, the other a thin gold chain holding a dark red medallion. Russia's ruddy face went white. He clenched his teeth.
"Give them to me," he growled. "Give them to me now, and there will be no consequences for your actions."
"Really? No consequences from a country as vindictive as you?" The country smiled, his eyes dancing. "I was right! These tacky things really ARE important!"
"I recommend that you return to me what is mine," Russia said, narrowing his eyes and looming over the other nation. "Please."
"I don't think so." The nation formed a fist around the red medallion and squeezed.
Russia stiffened. His eyes grew wide.
"It's dangerous for a nation to put a piece of himself in something so material," the nation said cheerfully. "And to do it twice! One would think you'd destroy these little liabilities. And when I heard you still had them, I was amazed at your stupidity!"
The nation took up the locket in his other fist and squeezed. Russia shuttered and fell to his knees. Sweat trickled down his brow. His people streamed around him and his false friend, oblivious to his plight. The nation stepped forward and smiled down at Russia.
"Then I thought, what if he can't destroy them? What if destroying them would be too much for his fragile mind? I mean, a country such as you who is always in conflict -"
"You would never!" Russia gasped.
" - a country who balances between sanity and madness -"
"Please! You have no idea -"
" - to destroy even a small part of him, would it break his mind once more? And oh, I do have an idea, Russia. Remember, I've seen some of your best handiwork in the last couple of centuries!"
The nation dropped the red medallion and crushed it beneath his heel. He picked up his foot and stomped on it until there was nothing left of it but a few red slivers in the snow. Russia shuttered at each footfall. His shoulders slumped at the last blow, his head drooped, his hair fell into his face. For a moment, he was still.
"Russia? Are you still in there?" The nation said softly.
Russia lifted his head. His violet eyes shone like two panes of broken stained glass. He snarled and lunged at the nation. The nation skipped back and squeezed the locket. Russia gasped and clasped at his chest, falling against the paving stones of the Square with a thud. The nation tsked.
"I don't want to hurt you, Russia," he said, loosening his grip on the locket. Russia relaxed and pulled himself to his knees, still clutching his chest. "All you have to do is what I say, and you'll be just fine."
Russia gave the nation a toothy smile.
"Following orders has never been my thing," he said, his glassy eyes hard as obsidian. "You know this."
"Oh yes, I know," the nation said easily. He patted Russia on the head. "But tell me, would you survive if I melted your locket into a puddle? Or would you become a raving maniac? A broken state, where your people starve between bouts of violence?"
"It would not be the first time," Russia said, his smile growing wider. "What do you know of conflict, little friend?"
"Not enough. Which is why I need you." The nation kneeled to Russia's level. "Help me out and the locket remains whole."
Russia stared the nation down with his flickering eyes. Slowly he nodded.
"Good!" The nation clapped Russia on the shoulder and rose to his feet. "And don't be too glum about your current condition. I promise, this is going to be fun!"