Stepping Into His Shadow _-CountryHumans AU-_ (Gloved Hands BOOK 2)

15. Hey Brother

America gasped for air, as Russia stood there, helpless. The person behind America tilted his head, grinning slightly.

"So, you finally came?" He asked. "I mean, it was a tiny bit earlier than normal... but still. You have guts."

"I'm pretty sure I do, otherwise I'd probably be dead by now," Russia responded, trying to make sure he wasn't being taken for being weak. The other chuckled, America struggled more. He'd tightened his grip on America's neck, hadn't he? 

"Please," The other said. "Feel free to beg for mercy."

Russia shook his head as the other stepped forward, it was Soviet. It didn't surprise Russia, but he knew he couldn't take his father down as much as he wanted to. He began to hyperventilate, he didn't want America hurt, nor did he want himself hurt.

Suddenly, four other countries ran down the hall, with hatchets, shotguns and one with a chainsaw.

"We're late!" One screeched, the others stalked up to Soviet. Russia was confused in this whole mess, and Soviet seemed to be confused too. "Hey! America!"

America looked over with all of his strength, seeing Finland standing there with a hatchet. He seemed calm about the whole thing, happy almost. 

"This isn't your fight-" Soviet was cut off when someone tore him off America from behind. Soviet yelped, falling to the ground, standing back up right after. America stopped and breathed, Russia striding over to him and wrapping him into a protective hug.

"It is now," Said the person who threw Soviet to the ground. It was Norway. "I mean, I didn't want to come out on a Monday after yesterday, but I'd do this to help my brother escape and whatnot."

Norway rubbed the back of his neck, bringing a chainsaw up and starting it. He kicked Soviet back to the ground, as Sweden got in there and sat on Soviet. Soviet groaned in annoyance, lifting Sweden and himself up off the ground.

"I said," Soviet growled, more frustrated. "This isn't your fight!"

Soviet charged at Norway and tackled him to the ground, Norway didn't hesitate to bring the chainsaw up. It began to grind again Soviet's arm, he screamed in pain and leaped back, glaring daggers at him. He then turned to Sweden, Sweden gulped and stepped back. He adjusted his viking helmet, holding his hatchet close.

Soviet turned to Russia and America next. Russia scowled at his father, holding America who was almost unconscious close. Soviet laughed, marching towards them. Russia didn't move a muscle.

Well, he didn't need to, since Iceland and Denmark appeared from nowhere and pushed him out of the way. Russia looked back to Syria and the others down the hallway, they were clueless about what was happening, somehow. 

"Syria!" Russia shouted, Syria turned to him. He finally realised what was going on, and charged into battle. He pulled a dagger from his coat, standing beside Russia. He noticed America, but shrugged it off. It looked as though the American had gone through enough trouble as it was. "Nice of you to join the party."

"Oh, I could only get here once the beat dropped," Syria replied, going along with the current topic. "Anyway, how's America? What happened to him?"

"He finally wanted to come home when dad here appeared and began to strangle him and threaten him with a gun to his head," Russia said quickly, half of it came out slurred. His accent showed a lot clearer right now, since he was frustrated - not that Syria knew that.

"I'm going to help," Syria murmured, not waiting for a response as he walked towards Soviet.

"Don't.. don't kill him," America spat out weakly, muffled by Russia's shirt. "Please.."

Russia was about to say something before he closed his mouth again, nodding. He acknowledged America's request, and as much as he wanted his father dead, he knew that America would put up a fight.

"Syria," Russia yelled. Syria turned around, staring at Russia with his one eye. "Don't kill him."

"Well, what's the point of me coming then?" Syria said, pissed off. "I wanted to come and kill Soviet to maybe - just MAYBE - have a little more peace. Is that too much to ask?"

"It's America's request," Russia said, Syria rolled his eye and shoved his dagger into his belt. Russia looked down to America and sighed, America knew something he didn't. He was told something. And it felt like it was about Soviet and his mother or father. He didn't know. 

"Thanks, Russ.." America whispered, sliding down Russia because of his loss of consciousness. Russia just picked him up, protectively bending down over him.

Meanwhile, Iceland and Denmark had trouble keeping Soviet down. Syria noticed and pushed them off, holding Soviet down easily by himself. He looked to the country's arm, a deep gash with blood pouring out just beneath his elbow. He remembered what Russia said about not killing him, and he growled curses. He unslung the bandages over his right eye, revealing the rest of his flag and a crispy area where his eye should've been, and wrapped it around Soviet's arm. 

He may have been a murderer, but he was also a veteran. Except people just never gave a single fuck.

Soviet noticed this and looked up to Syria, he stopped squirming and gave up. Syria didn't trust him still, so he stayed where he was. He looked around, watching the Nordic countries stand there and talk among themselves, before one screamed. Denmark held his hand over his chest where a machete was, and dropped to the ground.

Finland rushed over to his brother, ignoring the person who walked past, and tried to help stop the bleeding. The one who stabbed Denmark appeared in the light. Afghanistan.

"I'm going to go to get help," Finland reassured his brothers, Norway shook his head and slung Denmark over his shoulder.

"I will," Norway muttered, "Besides, I'm faster." 

Norway ran off, ignoring the rest of the people in the room, disappearing from sight. Afghanistan  chuckled down at Syria, who made sure Soviet didn't get up. Syria snarled.

"Hello," Afghanistan greeted Syria. "..brother."

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And I'll see you all later!