He doesn't even notice the kick of the rifle, used to it so much, so much by now.
Bang.
He doesn't care. They brought it upon themselves. They deserved to be punished, they were a burden to him. He can just hear the scandalized voice into his head. "Nations don't kill their own people! It's inhuman!"
He is not human.
At least that's what boss said. And what boss says is truth, no matter what. There is no God, the old boss said. Russia wasn't sure about it. Until the new boss came in. He always made sure he understood.
One more down.
He lowers his rifle, and closes his eyes, waiting for the next one to be brought forth. He looks up, and the man in front of him salutes in a military fashion. He knows his face. He knows all their faces, either from seeing them when he's awake, or when he's asleep.
Reload.
When he's asleep, it is the worst. It is the worst, because they come back, one by one, face by face, walking in lines, neat, perfect, lines. And every face is visible. He sees them all, one face through the other, transparent as they are. Eyes that seem to stare at him, right at him, accusingly. He ignores them, again, and again. He's following orders. Orders for his own good. And when boss slaps him awake, and tells him to stop screaming, he can do nothing but cling to him. And he will allow him to do so. And he'll speak softly, and comfort him. Boss was a good man, he knew it.
Aim.
He looks at the man standing against the wall, smiling right at him. Criminals like him are not supposed to smile. They're only supposed to atone for their sins. Sins against him, and against his boss. He can do nothing, but deliver the punishment himself. He opens his mouth, and calls out "Glory to the motherland!", staring right forward, blissfully unaware of just who exactly his executioner was.
Bang.
He freezes, but stays expressionless. A few moments pass. Silence reigns, unhealthy, empty silence. "Liar," Russia says under his breath. He lowers the gun.
"Next."