|《{$ } A Cold Nuclear War { $}》| SOVBRIT COUNTRYHUMANS

Chapter XII

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Started: 1/11/2023 [15:32 PM]
Long Chapter, woah!
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The soldier slammed the paper on Soviet's desk. The Russian immediately grabbed it. He scanned his golden eye across the location numbers and other notes before nodding and rushing downstairs. The soldier followed suit and waited for his country.

"Дети. Внутри!" (Children. Inside!)

Soviet held the door open as one after the other, fifteen smaller countries waddled their way into the warmth of their cosy cabin mansion. He pulled Russia back and lowered his voice.

"Я куда-то собираюсь, и этот приятный мужчина присмотрит за вами. еда в холодильнике, и ты не выходишь на улицу. Да?" (I'm going somewhere and this nice man is going to look after you lot. food is in the fridge and you don't go outside. Yes?)

"Да, папа." (Yes, Papa.)

Soviet patted Russia's back and stood up again. He nodded at the soldier and left the canbin mansion.

Soviet walked out of his cabin mansion and onto the snow. The only sound was silence and the crunching of his boots against the snow as he trekked to the waiting car.

Soviet was seated, and they drove off. . .

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"Насколько близок состав." (How close is the squad.)

"Они в часе езды. . ." (They are an hour out. . .)

Soviet gritted his teeth. 'Too far out.' He thought and turned to look out of the window. Trees passed by in a blur of white and green. The road was only just visible, but the country didn't care. He had a location and would do anything to get to said location.

The driver put the car into a different gear and sped up.

Soviet felt the car lurch forward and closed his eyes. He visioned the Brit.

Was he hurt?

Was he dead?

Would he live?

Can he hang on a little longer?

He visioned his partner hurt. Hurt and scared. . . Hurt, scared, and helpless! He couldn't help but feel guilty inside. He promised to protect the small island. But he failed. . . Soviet shook his head, riding his mind of brutal images that toyed his thoughts. He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and watched as it turned to a foggy mist.

"Just hang for me, Британия. . ." (Britain. . .)

Soviet murmured under his breath. He held his chin up with his hand and continued to gaze out of the slowly fogging window. . .

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Time: 20:04 PM
Location: ???

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Britain's form crumpled to the cold cement floor. He cradled his stomach with both of his arms and felt a boot force his body lower. He tried resisting, which earned him a kick to his ribs. The Brit fell sideways and lay coughing. The quiet sound of a pocket knife being flicked out caught Britain's attention again. Through half lidded eyes and a mass of messy hair, Britain saw Yegorov walking closer to his pathetic figure. More blood trickled down his chin as the coughing came to a stand still. . .

He tried to get up. Denied. . .

He tried to roll away. Denied.

He tried to fight back. Denied!