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

Chapter XIII

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Started: 5/11/2023 [19:02 PM]
Enjoy!
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A single shot echoed.

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Yegorov was all too slow with his reflexes. . . The Russian General slumped to the hard cement floor with a new bullet wound in between his eyes. His body made a 'plop' sound as it hit. Britain's head was thrown forward, and he gasped out as the hand was removed.

The five squad men jerked their head up and looked at each other.

"Кто сделал выстрел!?" (Who made the shot!?) The leader, Viktor, shouted out in surprise.

Nobody spoke. . .

"Кто сделал выстрел-!" (Who made the shot-!)

"Я сделал." (I did.)

Soviet said darkly and sped his way over the now fallen body and took out a pocket knife from his coat, and sliced the ropes, freeing his partner. Britain fell forward into Soviet's arms. "Sov-" The island breathed out. "-You came. . ." He wrapped his arms around Soviet's neck, pulling him into a tight hug. The Russian country hesitated before complying. He wrapped his arms around the smaller's waist, holding him securely. "You came for me!" Britain smiled weakly into his partner's shoulder.

"Of course did. . ."

Soviet rose from the floor, bringing Britain with him. The Brit's toes barley touched the ground as he clung onto his lover tightly. The five squad men stood up hesitantly and stared in aw. Never had they seen their country this caring for anyone other than his children.

Britain slid his arms away and leaned to catch his breath. Soviet supported him by holding him up by this waist.

"We need to get to hospital. . ."

Soviet led the Brit out of the basement and into the main part of the house. Britain scrunched up his nose and shoved his face into Soviet's side. The slav patted Brit on his back as they all walked out into the night. The snow was calm now.

"Мы можем перевязать его открытые раны в палатке, но с пулевым ранением будет сложнее. . ." (We can bandage his open wounds in the tent, but the bullet wound will be tricky. . .)

"Как же так?" (How so?)

"Хорошо. Глядя на это, рана выглядит как будто ей день или два. Ему нужен профессионал, чтобы проверить, нет ли у него гангрены или каких-либо инфекций. . ." (Well. Looking at it, the wound looks a day or two old. He needs a professional to check if he has gangrene or any infections. . .)

"Но сможешь ли ты?" (But can you?)

"Да, но-" (Yes, but-) Viktor let out a muffled sigh. "Я не профессионал. Я могу вынуть пулю, но это все, что я могу сделать, не причинив ему серьезного вреда. . ." (I'm no professional. I can remove the bullet, but that's about all I can do without hurting him severely. . .)

Soviet pondered on this for a while as they walked ever closer to the tent.

"Делать то, что вы можете. Это помогло бы. . ." (Do what you can. That would help. . .)

Viktor nodded and ran ahead with his men to set up everything for Britain.

Soviet looked to his left at the Brit's small face. He examined his small figure, noting all the marks and bruising along his neck. He squinted his eyes.