ЦАРЬ KAISER - A Race to Conquer (Countryhumans)

Summit

Day ten in Tartarus.

Today, I woke not to the fresh breeze and song of birds, but to the reek of smoke and the sound of banging in the kitchen. Somebody barged into the room and opened the door to the balcony with a grunt. Whoever it was made an awful cacophony. I stuffed a pillow on my face to shield myself from the light and noise. 

"Go. Away." I hissed. 

A laugh. "This is my house. I do whatever I want."

I groaned quietly. I felt a nagging headache coming on that I haven't experienced for twenty years. However, I was sure that the room was subpar, lacking the basic necessities. The shades in the room let all the urban lights stream through, the balcony door left perpetually ajar kept slamming shut over and over in the wind, and the constant background hum buzzed everywhere. I was used to retiring at eight; the family didn't go to sleep until around twelve at night. The pillows were too soft and the sheets threadbare which ultimately led to even less than a sleepless night. 

USSR came out of the balcony, letting in the smog from the street. "Breakfast is on the table. Get up now or starve." 

"It's five," I yawned. 

I could hear the slight satisfaction in his tone. "Not my problem," and he left. 

I lifted the pillow off my face. On the other side of the room, the large birch closet faced off with me in the morning. Several trophies, medals, papers, and books balanced precariously on top of the closet. I sighed and picked out a simple outfit to wear out of my case. I was about to open the door and start the brilliant day when Russia barreled into me. 

"Ow!" I snarled. "can't I have a moment of peace?" 

"Sorry Grandpa," he rolled his eyes. "but this is my room. And I have all my stuff here. And it's not my fault that papa arranged it like this. It's not like I'm enjoying the experience. I have to sleep on the floor." he opened the closet door and rifled around, picking out a black scarf. "if you want to eat, I'd go to the kitchen right now. Ukraine is about to polish off everything." 

I sighed. "And why aren't you running over there?" 

"I already had breakfast," he whistled. "and I'm leaving this place." 

"Where, may I ask?" 

"On a coffee date. For an interview." 

"Shouldn't you be wearing more appropriate attire?" I looked own at his slightly rumpled white sweatshirt and dark blue slacks. 

"It's a casual interview," he explained. "I'm meeting my friend afterwards."

"Ah, I see," No I didn't. "well, don't waste my breath." He grabbed his keys from the dresser and whisked out of view, yelling a hasty goodbye to everyone. The heavy doors slammed shut after him. 

I made my way to the kitchen to find Ukraine sitting at the table, lazily reaching over for the last slice of apple. The rest of the bowls and plates were dishearteningly empty.  My presence was greeted by the hum of the radio and bated breath. USSR stood near the window, leaning on the countertop, waiting for me.

He saw my dismayed face before I could fix it. "Oops," he said quietly. "looks like you missed the meal. Again." 

I clenched my jaw tighter. His attitude was getting worse every day. "Ooh, I'm so sad. Maybe I'll cry myself a river right now." 

He smiled in a nasty sort of way. "Well, sounds to me like a great breakfast. You can go do just that. Make sure you clean up after yourself, though. The mop and bucket are in the store room."