Chapter 11.

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"You need to stop being so hostile towards him. He's our ally right now," America leaned back into his chair nonchalantly.

"But he helped split Poland in half! Her guts kept on falling out whilst I was trying to stitch her back together!" Britain paced back and forth across the room.

"Well ya need to stop being a big ball of angst. It's really bumming me out and putting a damp on my vibe,"

Britain stopped moving and shot a death stare at America.

"Fuck your vibe. You try sewing a person back together whilst on the run from someone shooting at you,"

"No thank you. Goodnight," America closed his eyes and began snoring almost immediately.

Britain sighed and left the room.

I think America is right. Holding grudges have never really worked out for us in the past.

Who asked you for your opinion?

Can you two just stop bein' rude for five damn minutes?

Sorry...

Apparently everyone felt like arguing today. That's not a good sign. Britain walked down the hall deep in thought.

"It's funny how you think you can win,"

Britain spun and looked around to see who spoke.

There was no one there.

He continued walking.

"You are all powerless to stop me,"

The voice again. It had a very harsh accent as it burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"Who's there?!" Britain picked up a small table.

"I have a table and I ain't afraid to use it!"

The laughter soon slowed as the voice spoke again.

"You think a tables going to stop me? Ha! You really are pathetic,"

"S-shut up,"

"Ouch your pride must really be burnt! Oh wait..."

Britain dropped the table and looked down at his now shaking hands.

"Just s-stop it,"

"Stop what? The fact that you're a coward?!"

"Please..."

"And why should I? You're fun to torment y'know,"

"..."

At this point in time, the shouting had alerted a few others. One offered to check it out.

Britain crouched next to the wall for support, tears rolling down his face at a quick pace.

"Hey,"

Britain jumped at this and teleported at least 3 metres away.

"Whoa calm down, it's just me,"

"Soviet..?"

"Who else would it be?"

Britain got up and walked over to Soviet.

"Ummm... You didn't see anything, ok?"

"Nope but we all heard it. And your hairband fell out... Here,"

Soviet gave the band back to Britain so he could tie his hair up again.

"Thanks..."

"I know my opinion doesn't matter to you but your hair looks better down,"

Britain nodded in a thankful response.

The two stood in silence for a minute.

"Oh I actually wanted to talk to you about a contingency plan I made incase shit hit the fan, as some English people put it,"

"Will it stop the war?"

"Pretty much, yeah,"

"Well then meet me tomorrow and we'll talk about it,"

"Ummm... Ok!"

And with that Britain walked off to probably eat chocolate or some other rationed food that he's been saving for stress relief. Potatoes weren't rationed dickhead.

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