Man I am liking this...XD
Thanks to...
Startled Boris, HiddenChaser and shadowraven45662 for reviewing this!
Rikki Elric, Quiet Harmony-chan, pinkrose1122, MontyBoosh, Lily Lewis, HiddenChaser(again) and 4nim3fr33k for favouriting!
Startled Boris, shadowraven45662(again), Rikki Elric(again) and Lilypad the Fourth for alerting!
The next day, after a day of another victim, Ivan didn't know it, but murder followed by then destroying all trace of those he used to call his friends was beginning to take its toll.
He had made a sandwich, or tried to, but poured milk on the bread and not noticed until his feet where in a puddle. Cursing loudly, he had attempted to clean up the mess, but an image of the friend he a butchered today had flashed before him, and he kneeled, soaked in milk, staring at memory.
He walked silently, fitting for the suspicious looks he had been getting. Slipping into a dark alleyway he came across a humble-looking house and went inside. Surprisingly, it was empty, and he went into the basement, to see a dark-haired figure with his back to him.
"Ivan," spoke the figure. "The others did not believe me when I said you would come for me next. They were adamant you would go for America. Tactically foolish, but I guess they underestimate you."
I had paused, listening. He opened his mouth to speak but the figure had turned, sorrow in all his features.
Ivan smiled and approached, drawing a dagger.
"I know you too well, my friend" Whispered Yao.
Brushing away a confusing feeling, Ivan stabbed.
"You." He spat. "You are not my friend. You let him take them."
"Ivan please," chocked the Chinese man, "America only-"
"Never say that name." Ivan drew the blade out of the man.
"Oh wait," he said "You're never going to talk again anyway."
Stepping back, laughing, Ivan raised the blade, and slashed it against the man's throat. Without waiting, Ivan walked from the room, and left China.
Ivan found himself wiping curiously salty water from his cheeks.
…
It was a darkly lit room, only a handful of candles to illuminate the many faces around the table.
They were all silent, looking for some sort of recognition from the bowed head at the head of the table.
"It's my fault" spoke the figure.
A small hand gently touched the figure's shoulder.
"No sir," the owner said, reassuringly, "No-one could have foreseen this."
Then the figure shrunk even more.
"I could."
…
A few days after, Ivan was out again. This time many fell before him, some pleading, screaming, offering anything, while others simply dropped to the ground without a word.
Eyes of many colours blended into each other, faces, expressions until Ivan felt he was ending the same life over and over again.
…
The small figure had their back to him, fiddling with some small insignificant contraption. Silently, Ivan approached, drawing his knife.
Then the figure, male, just a boy, turns, and spotting Ivan, freezes.
"You!" he says, pointing accusingly, "I could call them you know!"
"I know full well they're watching." replied Ivan. "Don't play me, leettle Kirkland."
Peter shows no reply to this.
"Doesn't it niggle you, how they know that you are next, but they are not here."
Faces watch, helpless. Arthur knows if anyone even tries to make a move, Peter will die. He presses the intercom.
Ivan sees the flash of doubt on Peter's face.
"Maybe they are all glad to see you die. Perhaps England got tired of hearing you call him a jerk. Perhaps they all began to dislike your childish arrogance"
Doubts were running wild in Peter's mind. They wouldn't, I know it, they wouldn't…
Ivan, relentless, continued. "Maybe now they are glad to see you die. In fact, maybe now they are just begging for me to hurry, to rid the world of the waste that is you."
They wouldn't, don't listen, they wouldn't…would they?
A click resounding around the room informed them both that someone had pressed the intercom. Ivan put away his blade.
"I know I am, Peter. I am very glad to see you die." He said.
And then he revealed a gun in his left hand, aimed, and shot the boy in the head.
Shouts of denial, of hate resounded in the room from the intercom.
"Goodbye."
Ivan walked away, then paused.
And looked at the camera in the corner of the room, fury burning an Armageddon in his eyes.
"I hope you feel how I did," he said, shaking with emotion. "I hope you want to tear out your heart, America."
He choked on the last word, and spat on the ground.
The sound of a helicopter had filled the surrounding area. Ivan saw the familiar face of Pavel Ilyanov, and jumped on.
In the distance, Russia saw two jets streaming towards them, but they were too late.
He was gone.
Haha...I'm so evil. The other nations are droppping like flies aren't they?
Flames WILL be used to stoke your funeral pyre.
Review?