Chapter Eight (REWRITE)

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    They froze for a moment before looking in the direction where the bullet had come from. There stood a boy about America and Russia's age, with a gun in his hands. He had small tiny dark brown wings, though his face was covered as he wore clothing that caused it to be difficult to look and see their identity.

"You bastards! You killed my father! ¿Por qué? .."

   As he spoke, his voice cracked and his hands trembled.

   It was impossible not to feel pity for the boy, but it was obvious Russia and America's father did not care much for him.

"Please do not try and fight us. I am ... very sorry about our actions but .."

   She paused,

"He had it coming."

   After choking out a sob, he stared at them for a moment before running away from the three of them.
Suddenly, there was silence before multiple gunshots were heard again. Russia had groaned loudly in pain and when America saw him, she was terrified.

  A bullet hole was visible in his arm, blood flowing down it. Of course, they hid and took cover behind a random broken down car. Why did a random car appear? Uh .. magic!

  Suddenly, there was a loud roar, and before America could see what had happened, something hit her in the back of the head, causing her to black out. The last thing she heard was yelling, then nothing.


Sorry for another short chapter even promising to make a longer one than last time. I'm feeling sick at the moment so I'm sorry if I created many mistakes here because I'm feel tired. 💀
Have a good rest of your day/night.
See you next time.

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