Neon Lights & Dangerous Heights

The Letter

Russia 3rd Person POV:

Staring into the mirror, he watched the world behind him resume its pace, like everything was perfectly fine and not a single misgiving could affect them in the slightest, while he himself fidgeted around. They didn't know, and he supposed that they shouldn't know, but it still felt odd that not one of his many siblings had suddenly whirled around, jabbed a finger at him, and demanded answers. Ones that he himself couldn't even give.

I have to speak with you, Russia.
He had no idea who it was from. No signature graced its ominous farewell, and from all of his past experience, he couldn't detect the handwriting. There were limits to a person, after all. But still. The anguish that whirled inside of his head threatened to spill out onto the wooden floor for everybody to see and judge him, not unlike the snowstorms that happen around their home.

I can't find help anywhere else. You are my only option.

How could he be the only person capable enough to aid this mysterious figure? He was just another run-of-the-mill detective. There were plenty others in the city, so why did it have to specifically be him? If anything, countries were more inclined to step away from him, rather than willingly ask him for assistance. It wasn't that he hated everybody, but most got that impression.

But you need to promise me something that you can't break. This problem is taller than even you are.

So clearly the person who wrote this knew who he was talking to. Russia was kind of a sight with his seven-foot-tall stature and his infamous ushanka. Most countries regarded him as a giant, so, knowing who this country was talking about and his reputation, this problem must have been very big, indeed. Still, though, Russia clenched his jaw together. He didn't want to make any promises that he didn't have to, and this one was as vague as could possibly be.

You can't tell anyone about this, because they will only think you're crazy.

Which led to the well-calculated argument of, well, what if they were crazy, and why should he listen to them? It stumped him, too. Although, he has met a lot of difficulties in the past, and a good majority of them were done by countries who thought that they were just fighting for what they believed in.

Please come. If you don't, you might as well just convert to being a criminal too, because your denial would hurt people anyway.

Yeah, right. He was a detective, his literal mission was to help people and to set wrongs straight. Which meant that he couldn't just let this question slide from him. He needed answers, and not having any made his stomach have a tug-of-war between the different feelings that were fighting inside of him.

"You good?"

Turning his head, he saw the bright yellow and deep blue flag of one of his siblings looking up at him with a grim mouth, and he gave a small smile.

"Hey, Ukraine. Yeah, just thinking about something."

She poked him in the arm. "Well, tamper it down a bit. The food is almost ready, and I don't want you to scare the guests away with that face of yours."

Turning, he tilted his head, un-flexing his body. He hadn't known it, but apparently he had flexed up sometime in his frantic thinking. "What face?"

Shaking her head, she smoothed down her white dress with the palms of her hands. "Just relax, won't you? It helps with digestion, too. Besides, what could you be so upset about? You don't have any new missions, and you finished your old ones weeks ago."

Her clear blue eyes searched him, seeking the answers from his face, and he shrugged. "A lot can happen," he answered, letting go of the table and walking off. Behind him, he heard the soft sigh of his sister, and even though it hit against his morals, bruising them, he still couldn't tell her, even if the world was breaking apart.