Sometimes it was filled with insanity.
Prussia was momentarily stunned when one of the bombs threw into the air. But he couldn't stop, if he stopped now Canada would kill him.
He hadn't actually seen her though, which made it all a thousand times worse.
How exactly did he know Canada was coming after him? Prussia fired on a soldier, but it wasn't just any soldier.
The one he fired at was Jean Bonnefoy, the province of Quebec.
He had shot one of her children and for that he would pay.
It wasn't until days later that she started taking their lives.
Canada was an amazing sniper, but she was also a mother with a grudge.
So she took every one of the men in his troop down with her hands and a knife.
A broken neck here, a stab to a vital organ there, and slit throat.
She was never seen. Canada had become the bogeyman to his men, the grim reaper with a grudge.
It was just him and her now.
Nation to Nation.
Prussia to Canada.
Gilbert to Matthew.
"Why?"
(Had she killed those men instead of just taking care of him to begin with)
He blinked and she was on him.
The gun was useless against her now. The bullets didn't even seem to faze her at all.
The blade slit his throat and was dug into his heart within seconds.
"A mother's love knows no bounds, filth."
Her knife drew intricate patterns on his skin, these scars would never fade.
Disclaimer: I don't own.