Intoxicated // Countryhumans RusAme

bad ending cuz good ones r usually boring

("explanation" at the end)

Russia couldn't remember how long it's been since he has teamed up with America. Maybe some of his satisfaction was due to his need for validation, or maybe it was by mere accident that he loved what he was doing...

The country kept his head down as he silently grinned to himself.

"Do you have any last words?" He sneered at his victim, one of the few last ones that were left.

After failing at finding the bombs on time, the countries targeted were picked off one at a time. No bomb was obviously large enough to do any significant damage, but the fun of purely scaring the fifteen countries into thinking so was satisfying in itself.

"I wonder how many shots it'll take to put you down..." Russia mumbled to himself while getting his handgun loaded.

The small country squirmed in his chair, trying to desperately free himself from the bondages.

"Why don't we find out?!" Russia manically laughed.

He truly became psychotic after adapting into his lifestyle. He's never truly been happier. The drug he took all that time ago probably has worn off by now, but just being so indulged in America's evil deeds has made him immune to normal life.

He knelt down to his victims level and gently stroked the side of the frightened country's cheek.

"Poor little Кипр (Cyprus). Y'know, I tolerated you the most out of everyone. You were so small and insignificant after all, it's no wonder the others left you behind," Russia said in a fake, but a soft tone of voice.

Something strange occured in the next three seconds. From being tied to chair, Cyprus had freed himself and even kicked the chair in front of him towards Russia as a distraction as he tried to escape the warehouse.

He had used a jagged edge of a small coin to somehow cut through the rope in such a small time frame. Russia didn't get any time to react what had just happened before his victim was already sprinting outside.

"You're going to pay for that," he muttered angrily and cursed under his breath.

Cyprus didn't look back and ran for his life. The only reason he's been able to survive for this long was because of how good he was at hiding and running. If it wasn't going to save him now, nothing would.

It didn't take long for his captor to catch up to him, unfortunately. He was a lot faster than him after all. Russia pinned the small country down on the floor with brute force as Cyprus cried out in pain and begged for mercy.

"I was going to kill you quickly brat," Russia spat and started to choke him.

Cyprus' movements got violent as he struggled to breathe and gasped for air. A small viceful smirk crept on Russia's face as he watched the life drain out of his victim's eyes the longer he kept tightly grasping his neck.

"Oh, well. See you in hell," Russia softly muttered to himself.

It's where all countries go, after all.

...

Russia and America had quite a strange relationship. From the first stroke of poison he took, America had become the worst of himself-an ignorant and ruthless killer, out to get anything as long as it benefited himself. Russia, on the other hand, had become closed off, silent, and submissive to every command.

As the drug slowly wore off, the two partners in crime worked similarly to before, but regained some of their previous traits. America had relaxed and had become less serious, a little flustered and annoyed if he was seen as something less than perfect.