ЦАРЬ KAISER - A Race to Conquer (Countryhumans)

Circenes

There was a loud bang, a crash, several yells, and a series of ragged breaths. A stillness that seemed to go on forever. I opened my eyes to a whole different picture than I expected.

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I opened my eyes to find a wholly unreal picture. I blinked several times.

In the doorway stood the most unlikely trio of Drittes, Weimar, and Soviet Union looking shocked at the scene. Between the crumbling plaster wall and the mad Tsar, I couldn't think of many instances in the civilised society you would see such a thing.

I expected Prussia to be dead in an instant. The kind of death that comes with a swift, straight shot of the bullet to the heart and throws the body to the ground. But either he was quick, or Russian Empire's aim was shaky, because when I opened my eyes, my father was still standing, albeit pressed into the plaster wall like a cutting. He seemed to not be fazed. On the contrary, the only difference to his appearance was a small hole in the fabric of his jacket and a white dust all over. 

But when he spoke, he no longer sounded triumphant. I've only seen him in such anger when I lost the Great War.

"You...shot me," he said slowly. Russian Empire stared at him unblinking. A snarl was still etched on his face. 

He turned slowly to his fellows. "You let him shoot me,"

Danish Empire opened his mouth to say something, then promptly closed it. It was unwise to disagree at the moment. 

Prussia whirled around to face the door.

"Hello," Drittes said rather boldly. "Just checking on all of you. You seem to need some help."

"Well, you were wrong," Prussia snorted. "I do not need aid from Failure, Abysmal Failure, and Dreamer." He pointed from Weimar, to Drittes, to USSR in turn. 

Weimar looked utterly horrified at everything. "Großvater! You're bleeding!"

"Of course I am, foolish boy!" Prussia howled. "Do you not have eyes? Or are they as useless as your mind?"

Weimar hung his head in shame. Drittes was fighting not to grimace. His expression was not missed by his grandfather. 

"What are you smiling about? You don't even have basic common sense!"

Before Drittes could lash out with a response, USSR stepped into the room. His presence made the space feel smaller than before. 

"Brandenburg Prussia," USSR rumbled deeply. "It is common knowledge, I hope, that you will never win against a Russian." he smiled as he said so. "I suggest you abandon your schemes and go back to where you started." 

"And are you going to stop me?" Prussia raised his eyebrows. "I was under the impression that everyone unanimously hated you." 

"I but you were under an impression. The wall does agree," he gestured towards the ruined side of the room where a perfect outline of a certain Empire was drawn. 

Prussia blinked, apparently dazed, but then laughed. "Ah, I see! What a funny joke. But your words are merely words, Mister Soviet Union. My words are backed by power. Power that you cannot take from me, no matter how many ships you crash into palaces."

USSR spoke just as airily, as if he missed the jab about his revolution. "Yes, yes, Mister Brandenburg. You are correct in essence. But the fact remains that while your power cannot be taken from you, your soul certainly can be. And, if I am not mistaken, you are going to be dead in an hour." 

It was as if Prussia hadn't even noticed the hole in his shirt. He slowly looked down, as if mildly interested in the wound. Although it looked unassuming, harmless even, because of the lack of blood, USSR was right; it was a fatal wound.