Roman Roulette - Countryhumans America x China

Million

My eyes scanned the room we were in rapidly. It was an empty cell block, with flat grey walls and no windows. The recessed lighting was browning out in periods.  Although nothing was keeping me tied down, I didn't dare approach the iron door on the left. I shushed America up before the door swung open to reveal two muscular figures. 

 It was them again, Serbia and his cousin, Croatia. Both wore gleeful expressions on their faces, peering at us and commenting in their language. I cringed to see an army knife strapped to Croatia's belt. 

America didn't seem daunted by their behaviour. "Hey, you! This isn't how you treat normal people! I demand to know your management."

Before I could tell her this wasn't a restaurant or a department store, they both howled with laughter. "Oh girlie," Serbia chuckled. "You will, we promise, you will."

She struggled to her feet. I would call her courageous if it weren't so insane. The two were much taller than her. She wasn't making much of a stand. "Who are you, even?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips. "You have no right to detain people so brutishly."

"We are just the lucky ones," Serbia told her. "Lucky enough to land such a great job. Although, as I said before, this is the last time I do Šef any free favours."

"Who is...this Shef you keep talking about?" She pursed her lips. 

Serbia looked surprised. "Smart girl. Observant," he muttered something to Croatia. "You'll see," they cackled and left. "When you've cooled down a bit."

When they slammed the door shut behind them, America turned to me. "How rude, don't you think?" She seemed unfazed by their reactions. 

"Er, I think that's their job," I pointed out. I wish my voice didn't falter. 

She rolled her eyes. "I mean, in good old classic mafia stories, the woman is always given a great place to stay and good food and wine. None of that! What kind of a mafia is this?"

"A stingy one?" I suggested. "And I wouldn't want to be captive in any case. It's...illogical to want to be held ransom."

She nodded in agreement. "Yeah, but we are. So I'd much rather have the good food and wine."

I had to admit she was right. And all I wanted them to do was haul America out to clear my head and face them alone. No need to have a hapless, jibbering sidekick tag along. Just me, logical and straightforward China. But mafias don't work that way. They take everyone. 

When we've sufficiently 'cooled down' (It took exactly three hours and twenty-eight minutes) Serbia and Croatia returned, hauling us out. America struggled for the first part, but then mimicked me and my limp state. There was no use in the struggle now. I kept glancing at Croatia's knife, wondering if he wanted to use it or not. 

They led us down the hall and turned right. All the halls looked the same, with no doors and no windows. I tried to memorise the pathway in case we had a chance to escape. Croatia opened the door and pushed me in roughly. Serbia did the same. 

In the darkish room stood a stocky woman with exuberantly high heels. Her face was dramatically made up with dark shading and mascara. By America's gasp, she must know her. 

"I thought there'd be...only one of them," she said, unimpressed. 

"We found them together," Serbia explained. "There was no way we could take him without her."

"Wait a minu-," America started before she was cut off. 

"Well whatever," she snapped. "We have him, which is all that matters. You are dismissed."