Chapter 38: зеленый: Green
Ivan's eyes were very similar to Matthew's, a deep violet- but they seemed to differ in shades. Dmitri noticed Canada's irises held specks of bright blue within them, perhaps a few green as well. This made them bright, cheerful, and incredibly innocent when coupled with the emotions he never bothered to hide.
And while those few light sparkles gave Matthew an ethereal glow, Ivan's eyes could only bode a dangerous, painful existence. For the Russian's gaze was tinted with red, a deep, angry red which seemed to stand out in the darkness of the room.
They glared with such a malice, as if they were a demon's eyes feasting upon a pestering rat, and he didn't know whether he was disgusted enough to do away with it or eat it. Because the terrified screams that rat could make after tearing apart his limbs would more than quell the thirst for blood.
The Demon's thin pale lips parted, and his tone suggested nothing but a forced sort of calm; even, level, sane; but at the same time, deep, guttural, and threatening. It only let his prey know just how angry he was. "What did you say, comrade?"
And Dmitri continued to smile, because it was a thrill standing there, witnessing the stance Ivan held himself in- like a panther; strong, graceful, with hidden claws and teeth that could rip you in half, all barely contained in that anger. And yes, Dmitri was frightened- who in their right mind wouldn't be? This was Russia looking absolutely murderous.
The shivers down Dmitri Mihailov's spine could certainly be one of fright, but he surprisingly found himself rooted to the spot, if not honestly happy to see Ivan in all his wild fury... this... was what he had hoped to see all along.
Such rage, such want to cause another pain; he could see it in the Russian's eyes and even if he was the source, the outlet, he was simply excited to know that it still existed. He swelled with pride knowing he was the reason Ivan came so close to the threshold, verging into the realm of insanity- a place Russia had not been in for so long, but remembered it clearly even if he pretended not to.
He wanted to push him more- he wanted to see Ivan lose control and know without a doubt that this side of the man had not been lost over the years of ductile servitude to politics.
"I said, comrade," Dmitri replied with a quick smile. "I should have taken the chance and fucked him harder." He was playing with fire- and it was so hot he knew he would get burned, but he couldn't help it, he wanted to see Ivan break under all that fury.
Ivan's reaction was subtle and yet it was exactly how Dmitri had imagined it to be- a violent spark in his eyes, the clenching of the jaw... and the pull of a trigger. In the small room, the explosion of a gunshot echoed loudly, and even as it faded away, their ears rang.
Dmitri had jerked back instinctively, knowing he couldn't dodge a bullet if Ivan truly aimed. But as the bullet whizzed past him before he could even blink, hitting the metal doors just a few inches away, and the impact of metal, copper, and aluminum sounded an explosion.
Even if the bullet missed him, he did not come out unscathed- the metal warped before a large piece of it blew apart, slivers of the debris cut into him; his right shoulder, which was closest, his cheek, forehead, the hand he used to block the most of his face- all received bits and pieces of the rustic metal alloy.
When it seemed to be over, just a few seconds after his comment, he looked back up with an astonished expression, his heart leaping in his chest- knowing he brushed against death. "One little comment and you shoot crazily at me. Did he mean that much to you?" he asked with wonder. Ivan had no difference in expression, merely tightening his hold on the rifle.
Dmitri felt an unsteady chuckle leave his throat; a panic inducing reaction- better to laugh than show fear now. Not when he's dreamed of this moment since he was a child. He did just that; huffing in amusement and brushing dust off his jacket, ignoring the blossoming red from his multitude of cuts.
Looking back into red violet eyes once more he pulled a smirk. "I apologize. Obviously you wanted to fuck him first. If you told me that, I would have let you have him while he was paralyzed. That would have been fun to wat-"
"I would be very careful with what you are about to say," Ivan growled lowly. He pulled the stock back, reloading with a loud clack, before re-focusing it on Dmitri's face. "Because the only thing I want to hear is screams, da? And next time I shoot, I will not miss."
"Ah, so very serious. Why don't you shoot me now then?"
"That is too quick, and there are many others who would like to tear you apart," the Russian said, and Dmitri did not doubt. For a split second he wondered what would be better- dying quickly from a gunshot, or being tortured for days by an angry group of Nation representatives who knew very well how to cause pain... On a light note, he would witness firsthand the glorious expression on Ivan's face as he once more committed the dirty sins of peeling skin from bone.
It would be like watching a rebirth of the monster he only heard about in stories- a demon determined to make your last hours of life as painful as possible; so to make you believe you were in hell before you even arrived in death; or... perhaps even wish for the burning pits of eternity, because living became the real nightmare, and the tall demonic form with haunting red-violets was your own personal devil.
No doubt, Dmitri would beg for death if he was forced to endure so much- from Russia, or the others. And that made him wonder who "others" were exactly. He smiled as he thought aloud; "Yes, let me guess, America for one- seeing as it is... Canada I stole away, naturally the other Nation would want to step in. Who else?"
"Germany, England, France, among others who-"
"I started such a war, didn't I?" he interrupted, looking surprised and yet, he seemed to give himself a pat on the back, smiling victoriously, as if he achieved something great. "All those Nations... was Canada really that important? I must say I didn't do too much research on the Country, but I did not think he was that popular... Or did everyone just want their little toy back?"
"Do not speak of Matthew that way-"
"Is that what you wanted, Russia? Your sex-toy to play with as you please? Because, really, I'm curious on why you cared so much. I don't think your Government is that close with his- do your bosses have a relationship too? Taking your sisters would not have had the same effect, but then, the pathetic boy that represented Canada was far more enjoyable, and I was... honored to have him, if you know what I mean, da?"
"I do not," Ivan replied, and he looked as if he were about to shoot again.
"Let me explain it for you then- the beauty of his eyes as they watered with salty tears, and even through the drug in his system he whimpered so softly. The blood was a perfect lubricant and my fingers slid in so smoothly. So warm and tight-"
This time, Dmitri was better prepared; while he knew he couldn't dodge bullets, he found he didn't have to- the large form of Ivan was suddenly right in his face, with barely two steps and it had Dmitri diving to the side, missing the butt end of a rifle by mere centimeters. He stumbled over rubble to gain more distance from the giant turning to face the man with a grin and another shaky laugh.
"And I'm sure if he could have spoken, he would be screaming!" he said. "Help me, save me, stop, please!" His voice was loud, high pitched like a victim's tone would be. "But nobody heard him, nobody came- not until it was too late, right Ivan?"
Ivan did not answer; he simply followed the man, making the Russian dive once more to escape a brutal swing of the rifle. "You talk too much, and I do not want to kill you yet, Dmitri," he growled. "I want you chained, beaten, bloody- and I'll bring out those screams you want to hear from your own throat."
The man chuckled, flattening his back against the wall behind him, watching anxiously for the next move- Adrenalin running through his blood, causing his breath to shorten. Ivan's moves were quick for sure, but Dmitri had been fast on his feet so far and his chances of escaping only increased as he reached his hand behind him. Out of sight, a sweaty palm soothed across the solid handle of a gun. "You'll have to catch me first."
That made Russia pause, and a certain twisted light swept through his eyes before a sickening sweet kind of smile darkened his features. "You are implying you can run, da?"
For a second, their eyes connected, and the color was vastly different, but the intent inside them were so similar. A wild thought crossed Ivan's mind; how he must look in the mirror- a trapped animal with the instinct to fight and survive, with the power and will to destroy all those who stood in the way of his personal freedom. To eliminate weakness.
To Dmitri, Ivan was a weakness; the emotions he had shown for his sisters, friends, and Matthew made him weak. The loss in influence around the world, the loss in destructive weaponry after the World Wars, the current economic situation; Dmitri felt that it was his fault.
Wishing to make friends and falling in love came at the price of power and as Ivan became soft, domestic, and undeserving; so had Russia.
This part of Dmitri that stood before him with an evil tilt to his eyes was not foreign. Ivan had fought against men like this his entire life; they were the ones who trained him, punished him for every mistake, pointed out all his flaws and forced him into a perfect warrior.
As years went by, those men may have died but their words never left him, merely joining together as voices inside his head. And they frequently whispered about how times changed. They reminisced about the golden ages- where Russia was feared, respected, strong. When he gathered so many other lonely Nations and protected them from har-
But no... He never protected them... did he?
And this was where those voices were stopped- because he remembered the sight of Lithuania crying as he cleaned the spiked leather whip, and he heard Latvia stutter and break down in utter fear after losing his left eye when Ivan threw glass in his face. And Estonia's eyes blanked over unseeingly when Russia grabbed a fist full of that hair, pulling tightly, as he asked the man a cold question.
That was not protection; that was control. And no matter how badly Ivan had wanted a friend, a lover, a heart- he found that he simply could not be the emotionless killer and a protector at the same time. It was impossible.
So which came first? Would he continue to forsake his own happiness, cursed to be alone for the rest of his existence (or until the other Nations decided to destroy him and his greedy, monstrous being of hate and rage). Or... trust in someone- confide in another, allow another Nation who may have been just as lonely and conflicted into his heart, and be trusted in return?
If Canada was that special someone, then he found it easy- it may have taken a long time, but Matthew had not forced his way in, and Ivan had not been as offensive with the new addition in his life as he thought he would have been.
Matthew treated him with care and admiration. And the moment Matthew gained his own respect, Ivan didn't feel the overwhelming need to place himself as superior. They knew where they stood, and for the first time since Ivan could remember, he grew close to someone personally.
It felt amazing.
So, if showing a bit of weakness in the form of kindness towards Matthew condemned him, then Ivan didn't think he wanted to be that strong warrior anymore. That road was dark, lonely, and depressing; it only led to his own dead end.
He wanted to say this aloud- to the voices in his head, and to Dmitri before him. He wanted to explain, and get them to understand that he was still strong, mentally as well as physically. He had believed otherwise for such a long time, but Canada had changed that- and in many ways, Dmitri only proved it.
However, he knew it was useless; they would never listen, merely whisper about the fake glory and childish dreams of ruling over the world. Reality would see that he'd never accomplish that- and so, the only other choice, one that would leave him in peace for the rest of his days... Get rid of it. Get rid of the voices, the opinion that he was weak; get rid of Dmitri.
Killing Dmitri here, smashing down that disgusting view that he was nothing more than a tool for the land of Russia- he'd become free.
Free to smile and laugh. Free to run and play, free to care for whoever he wished to care for.
And his rifle felt heavy in his hands, as if that destructive part of him fought against its use, knowing it was about to be killed. Lifting it up, bracing it against his shoulder, he looked into molten gold irises, watching the hate stare back at him.
They narrowed as a knowing look passed through- Dmitri realized this was the last shot; his last chance. He didn't feel like giving up yet though. He just might be faster...
The hand hidden behind him gripped at his pistol, pulling the short barrel free of his pants and swinging it up at the same time as Ivan.
Their weapons fired simultaneously. Twin gunshots echoed in the small room as one- casting ringing sounds throughout the abandoned building.
And this time, a scream joined it.
...oOo...
His muscles burned; calves and thighs especially; they sent stinging shocks of pain up and down the limbs, screaming for a break and Matthew's body jarred to a stop, finally giving in to the demands. His body shook with the strain of his own weight and the anxiety building up. He fell against the wooden wall of a fishing equipment and bait shop, panting heavily from his run.
It just had to be now, with all the disuse of his muscles and the injuries all along his torso- the one time he wanted to go and fight- to use all that power he had which no others have seen since the world wars.
It's not like he waited for the opportunity to show other Nations how strong he could be; he was content with his secrets remaining secrets. The less attention on him and his country the better. So long as he knew his strengths...
But it was a different situation now. He was involved- he needed to get up and take control of the mess he helped fester while he was captured. He had a very obvious and important chance to help Russia; and at the same time, extricate the apparent weakness he felt.
He was the one captured- and that stained his conscience; it made him feel helpless and weak; something he was not. For all the tears he cried over his situation, for all the blood that was spilled and the shame of being an object of ransom, having to be rescued.
Matthew had a right to have his revenge, he had a need to demonstrate his strength; for his own benefit as well as Russia's; he would make a comeback and anyone else who thought they could mess with "weak little Canada" would get a size ten boot up their ass.
With that in mind he told himself: stop acting like a baby.
His body could not break down right now. His legs had to move, his hands had to stop shaking. and he was going to find Russia, find Dmitri- shoot the arrogant asshole in the face repeatedly- and then kiss Ivan so hard he'll be absolutely assured that whatever silly mysterious past he had haunting him hardly mattered.
Consequently, Canada would be seen as a BAMF.
That was his heroic plan.
America would be proud- no, he'd be jealous of his perfectly flawless, unquestionable skills at saving the day! Everyone would practically throw themselves at his feet for alliances and he'd finally be able to push world peace, because everyone would listen to him. Or else.
… He needed more sleep after this.
While his body took a few moments to rest (treacherous bastard it was) and his mind continued with a barely intelligible rant on how he would change the world, he looked out over the harbor, watching the mass of people and the tall sails of ships. His eyes passed all of this with a quick observation, lingering momentarily on the grey suited soldiers-
If he were here under different circumstances then he'd be astounded by the beauty of the picturesque scene. After leaving the city behind it was suddenly so wide and open- the people walking about made a churning wave of a multi-colored ocean. Their conversations blurred together and it made for a certain kind of music.
Finding Ivan or Dmitri would be near impossible in this environment.
It was fortunate that Matthew had a hint on where to start- and it wasn't in the middle of the crowd, thankfully. The fact that his destination along the horizon proposed a huge black smear across the serene harbor was an advantage as well.
He hardly had to look very hard for the past labor camp. Even if he were still a hundred feet away from the building, he could see the crumbling brick facade, the lack of electricity or any kind of lighting left it dark and eerie on the bright blue horizon. The complete isolation that would be perfect for a prison-like setting with its high fences and warning signs plastered everywhere for people to stay away.
Surrounded by water on one side, the beginning of steep mountainside on the other. At least two high towers could be seen reaching toward the sky, although one such structure had seemingly lost its top over the years.
That had to be the dreaded gulag Canada heard about. That had to be where Dmitri was headed. And he'd have to get there quick. He felt like time was wasting, an instinctual feeling told him he was late- he was going to miss it. Something bad was going to happen and he needed to be there to somehow correct it.
Breathing easier now, he forced his legs to start walking, weaving unsteadily through the thinner crowds that persisted on the outskirts of the port. It was just past noon and the people were more hurried than usual, and the backup of exports/imports did not help the situation. Fishermen and boat drivers had nothing left to do but wait and complain. And Matthew heard it all as he passed through.
It may have been in Russian, but he recognized a few curse words in there, and he definitely understood the anger and irritation everyone felt. The atmosphere seemed tense and the people looked anxious.
Dimly, he wondered if the civilians were unconsciously channeling Ivan's own feelings. That certainly happened before- strong emotions were shared between the country's inhabitants and their representative. If Ivan were particularly angry, afraid, or hurt... it wasn't improbable that Russia as a whole would be affected.
With the people around him fidgeting, restless, shouts of anger and confusion around him building up it seemed like the pinnacle of a movie. Everything was coming together and Matthew pushed his way through another group of men arguing amongst each other to finally come to a clearing- a straight shot to the large fenced off area. He jogged at a faster pace, rushing toward his goal and panting in exertion as he took hold of the metal linked barrier.
Was he supposed to climb?
"Damn it," He growled under his breath. There was no other opening in sight and he had no time to scout around for one. With a deep shaky breath he began to pull himself up. The tip of his boots barely fit in the holed chain-links and so his strength to keep him up remained mostly in his arms and abdomen- which burned fiercely at the muscle use.
Rolling over the top of the fence hurt even worse. His chest and stomach had to make contact with the metal in order to get his legs to swing over. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he dropped the three feet back to the ground and landed on his ass.
And that hurt too. A lot.
Oh, he didn't want to move anymore, and the ground almost seemed comfortable if it weren't for the pebble digging in his side. Whatever, he could deal with that. It was better than the smarting burn of his ass and the muscles all the way up his chest.
He figured that this was the reason he never played hero.
Seriously, what had he been thinking? Something about saving the world and getting the girl? (Never mind that in this relationship, it looked like Matthew just may have to bend over first- and like hell was that going to happen any time soon. His ass was off limits for the time being)… and he had a moment of reflection and wondered why the topic of bending over for Russia even came to mind- was he that obsessed?
Forcing himself back on topic, he realized that his plan had some pretty big gaping holes, if he could say so himself. And he blamed it on that completely insane American way of thinking that never fit well with the lazy, easy going, kind, and intelligent Canadian.
Damn Alfred. I should have never read those old comic books you obsessed over.
No. He should have stayed in that hotel room, nice and warm in that bed- with Kumajirou asleep beside him as he watched sappy romance drama on the TV and ate Maple Ice Cream.
But then what would be the point? … it was all in Russian anyway, and it would be useless to see without Ivan as the translator. Listening to his voice as he explained the stupid soap opera dynamics was enjoyable- even if he wanted to laugh, because Ivan had been very opinionated and disgusted throughout the entire show.
"And now he's saying how he loves her, and he was sorry for being late for their date- seriously? Who would fall for that, it is obvious his is lying, da? Can't we watch something else, Matvey?"
"No, this is cute, keep going."
A long-suffering sigh that was over-exaggerated and false seeing as a slight smirk played upon those lips. "Fine, but the blond- how do you call it... bimbo- believed every word. How pathetic." Matthew laughed at his tone, nodding in agreement.
If he wanted that peaceful kind of company back, then he'd have to go find Ivan. And if he was going to do that, it involved pain... He tried to convince himself it was worth it.
A loud crack startled him out of his thoughts and he tipped his head back to look around him, alarmed- that had to be gunfire. Loud like thunder and echoing deep- it was a rifle.
With a deep breath, he pushed off the rocky ground with his elbows, rolling over from his back, to his hands and knees. Lifting himself up from there was easier than he thought, even as he wavered unsteadily on his feet for a second. Once more, with a sense of urgency, he began to jog, and he once more told his body to suck it up and ignore the pain for the moment. He had better things to do.
If he continued around to the left (to the back of the camp) then he would be closer to the water, and closer to any boats Dmitri would be heading for, so he started there. Once he got close enough to the wall, he used it as a way to keep balance, traveling as quick as he dared while remaining quiet and cautious of every corner. The ground became slippery with ice the closer he got to the old wooden piers and the noise from the harbor to his left drowned until there was only a quiet murmur of the busy city.
The atmosphere grew eerie then- and Matthew only tried to concentrate on any sound coming from the building next to him. Voices, footsteps, anything... the silence gnawed at him and he hurried down to the rear of the prison camp, afraid that he was too late.
He more or less slid around the last corner, looking around him and half expecting a body to be laying right there... It was hard to tell if he was disappointed when there wasn't. But that would be too easy wouldn't it? To have it all over just like that; Dmitri bleeding on the ground and Ivan standing over him victoriously.
Of course Canada wouldn't be that lucky- his fortune had been pretty dark lately, he didn't expect it to lighten up so soon. It still didn't stop him from hoping however, and it wasn't like he'd been discouraged- Matthew wasn't one to give up or back down when he was needed. So when he turned that corner and still didn't see either of the two men he searched for, he huffed and continued on, sticking close to the stone wall. After all, they had to be here somewhere...
Leaning wood columns held up the overhanging roof, though many of the shingles had been torn apart, leaving holes. To his left, a small row of piers and docks, perhaps four in total. The boards looked weathered, some missing all together, but there was still some in use.
A modest sized boat waited patiently and silently at the end of one, just out of reach of the frozen ice creeping up from the rocky shore. Old and rusted, it still floated, and looked to be in working order. That would be the perfect getaway boat if Matthew ever saw one, and he hoped Dmitri was not already on it.
He glanced from the building next to him to the ship in the distance- wondering which he should go to first before deciding that- if anything, sabotaging the boat may be his best option. Should the slippery bastard make an escape from a hunting Russia, then at least he wouldn't get very far.
Jogging towards the small ship, he breathed heavily, ignoring the puffs of his own breath in front of him. It was getting colder outside, and he didn't exactly come prepared. The flannel shirt was covered by a simple insulated black jacket but it was unzipped, and his hands were unguarded by any gloves.
But at least he had a pistol, and he retrieved it from the hem of his jeans as he stepped onto the pier, slowing down to a walk while on the icy foot-boards. They groaned under his weight, and he looked around him for any sign of life, knowing he was out in the open- an easy target.
There was nobody around though, and the wind stilled around him until all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing and the too-loud-for-comfort boards underneath his boots. The boat's engine was not running, and from his position, he could see nobody on deck. With one hand ready to shoot if necessary, he reached over to touch the lip of the boat, leaning forward to see more of the vessel. He tried to look into the windows of the cabin but they were filthy with lime buildup and rust from the metal around it.
He could see nothing, hear no noise- and he was confident Dmitri had not made it here yet if that was the case. Perhaps Ivan confronted him elsewhere inside the camp, because wherever that gunshot came from, it had to be close by.
On the side of the hull hung a small ladder to help any passengers board the ship easier- with a small grunt of exertion, he hauled himself up, swinging his legs over the waist-high barrier to the rusty metal decking.
A clutter of equipment made it difficult to walk across to the cabin, and Matthew had to shake the thin ropes of fishing nets off his feet before they sent him tumbling to the floor. The small door to the captain's cabin stood ajar and protested loudly when Matthew opened it further. Inside, more clutter, more rust, and a stale musty air that didn't smell very pleasant in Matthew's opinion. Most importantly though, nobody was inside.
"There aren't any keys," Matthew noticed. He bent down to look underneath the stationary desk full of gages and dials- some cracked, some broken, and all of them hardly readable. He shoved moldy boxes aside, looked through a few files of paper, finally found the captain's chair out of the mess- but no keys and no information of who owned this boat (if there was an owner at all).
Was he missing something? He swore Dmitri would make his last stand on a ship, and with the police patrolling the harbor there was only one place he could safely board; here. He must have known this boat was here if he decided to come this way-
A deep crack of thunderous sound bellowed across the area. It was loud- too loud, and Matthew's entire form jumped with surprise, head jerking around to see where it had come from. In the next instant a scream tore through the air and Canada scrambled out of the little cabin. He leaned over the ship's hull to look out to the camp behind.
A dark form was seen slipping through a small opening of an aluminum door, quick to gain distance from the building but tripping over himself, falling to the rocky ground harshly. He struggled, barely standing, forced to walk instead of run lest he fall again.
He had dark hair. And currently moving Matthew's way.
Matthew's jaw clenched, eyes roaming to the door Dmitri had come from, feeling a complete-body relaxing relief as a familiar mop of white hair came into view. The opening Dmitri had slipped through was not big enough for Ivan, and Canada watched him shove the door aside with his inhuman strength, stepping outside and following the stumbling human at a more sedate but angry pace, reloading his rifle as he went.
Dmitri was already at the dock, and he turned around to see if Ivan was catching up, he raised a pistol to shoot at the Russian. It missed by a wide margin, striking the stone facade of the building three feet to the right of Ivan.
With a final click, Russia's weapon was ready, and he retaliated with his own shot that struck Dmitri in the upper leg, sending him crashing back to the wooden boards underneath him with a shout of pain.
Matthew's lips tilted slightly, and he watched with a little too much satisfaction as Dmitri struggled to stand once more. The bullet may have only nicked him or simply passed right through with little problem- or perhaps one is underestimating basic survival instincts, because even through all that pain, the man stood, desperately making his way to the ship like it would save his life.
He slipped rather pathetically a few times on the icy dock, but reached the ship eventually, grasping the ladder with harsh breaths and hardly able to pull himself up. More or less falling to the deck, he groaned in pain, fishing into his pockets to retrieve a set of keys Matthew assumed went to the boat.
He stood shakily, gasping with exertion. Stumbling across the deck and nearly tripping over every bit of clutter to get to the captain's cabin, looking behind him for Ivan's location as if the Russian would be right at his back in the next instant. It reminded Matthew of the Baltics, particularly the smallest- Latvia- in the way he was shaking, paranoid, and intimidated. The fact that Ivan finally instilled the fear of Death into the vicious man only gave Matthew a sense of pride.
Those gold eyes that once held arrogance and cruelty, were now glazed over with pain and the fight for survival. As horrible as he was, no matter what he knew, what he did, and who he killed- he was a basic human. And all people feared death.
Dmitri knew he had little chance of living once Ivan found him, and that fact only made him desperate- pathetically in everyone's opinion, as it seemed pretty clear that he had no escape. However, that slim light of hope in his eyes as he turned the corner of the cabin extinguished in the next second.
That may have been caused by the barrel of a 9mm staring at his face.
He halted in his steps, bringing both hands up as a sign of surrender, one holding the gun, the other holding the keys. Both hands were bloody and a steady stream of red soaked his entire torso and left pant-leg. Up close, Matthew could see he'd been shot once in the abdomen- probably from the first shot he'd heard. The second in his left leg.
Dmitri barely stood, keeping most of his balance to the right, and it made for an awkward shuffle as he attempted to back away from the gun at his head. Hazy golden eyes connected with a light violet and the human chuckled slightly, as out of breath as he was.
"Y-you. You were dead last time I checked."
A smile of his own lifted Canada's face, but it was sarcastic and almost cynical. "I came back. Didn't want to miss out on watching you die."
"Matvey?" Ivan hopped over the ship's side, looking surprised. "You were not supposed to be here."
Dmitri scoffed. "Da. Neither were you. The plan was to escape without you noticing. Look how lovely that turned out."
"You're shot," Matthew noticed as he glanced towards Russia. The man's right shoulder, more towards his neck, was bleeding profusely.
"Nothing bad."
"My apologies, I should have taken more practice with a gun," Dmitri commented. "Besides, aren't you more worried about yourself? I know I personally left some life-changing wounds on you."
Matthew smiled. "Life-changing? So you played doctor on my chest, and attempted to rape me- do you think you really made such an impact?"
"You're right, next time I'll think up something more terrifying. I still have a few ideas, Aнгел."
Ivan's sharp glare only darkened. "There won't be a next time."
… Thank You ...
About time, eh? I know some of you got anxious near the end. It pushed me in a way, cause when you guys get disappointed, I do too. Which is why, even though I'm not very proud of this chapter, I'll leave it here and go ahead and post. Two more chapters to go! And don't worry about America or Belarus, I'll get to them later. Ha ha.
Sorry for the late update, but I hope you stick around to see how this plays out. Some people are falling out of the fandom it seems. And there haven't been any updates to the really good RusCan stories out there.
Fellow Authors! Come on! I updated, you should too! Don't give up!
Thank you for all the awesome reviews and encouragements. I try to reply to everyone but you blow me away every time. XD
Translations:
Aнгел (Russian)- Angel
Disclaimer: I don't own anything within this story but the plot itself. But it's a damn good plot so maybe it'll make me money one day, eh? Ha ha.