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RUSSIA
Mental note to self: never step into a five meter radius of an escape room again.

It was a America-South idea (which, he should've known, never resulted in anything good) to ask for the room with the NPCs in it. Just five minutes ago the two best friends had claimed confidently that the scariest one, at a disconcerting five out of five blood stains, was 'not for the weak' and had marched into the video camera-less room called The Widow With The Cleaver. Massive mistake to firstly, not say anything against it, and secondly, go along with their insanity. If that wasn't clear enough already.

The Widow With The Cleaver took place in a dark mansion with warning signs of jumpscares, flashing lights, blood, gore and loud noises upon entry, where a house maid was tasked to clean and rid an abandoned mansion of all its contents after a divorced wife had killed herself in it. They were introduced to the fact that there had been signs of demonic possession nearby, and that the maid had not came back from her expedition ever since, opening up a case to be solved on the disappearance.

And now here they were, in a dark, red wallpaper-covered mansion, trying to find the truth to the maid's absence, and Russia was absolutely petrified, even if he didn't show it. And this thing wasn't even real.

"I found a note," Canada offered, digging through drawers calmly. "It's a love note. Addressed from... no one. Addressed to a Mr. H."

From across the room Germany clicked open a safe and retrieved a blue key from its interior. "That goes to that room, I assume," he said, pointing to a locked room to the left with a blue lock, and made careful, nearly tiptoeing steps to the door.

The key slot in with a soft click. Germany stood frozen at the entrance and when he turned around, immediately latched his eyes onto South. "You go first."

"Mkay," South said, unfazed, and stepped in. Behind him, a laser wall blazed to life.

"Huh?" Poland frowned and shot his hand through the wall — only for it to flicker once, and a small sign to pop up on their walkie-talkies. In a room of this complexity, there were no video cameras to observe their moves, only walkie-talkies in case of emergency.

"Solo mission," it read in blocky, pixelated text. Poland paled and clutched his heart dramatically.

"It can't be that bad," South grinned. "See you on the other side," he said jokingly, and with another word, he had disappeared into the abyss of the blue door's room.

"We lost one," Russia grumbled, rubbing the space between his eyebrows.

It took a few minutes for another door at the far end of the mansion to open, seemingly the result of South's efforts. A key dropped from a satchel originally attached to the ceiling and when America made a mad dash to it, a yellow light flashed, flickering on another laser door.

"Duo mission," the walkie-talkie screens read, and Russia had the misfortune of standing right next to the blonde just as the message was sent through.

"You can go with me, Russia," America said brightly, spinning the key around his finger.

"Not in the seventh cycle of hell."

"No way you're scared."

Russia froze, raising an eyebrow. This guy never missed a chance to one-up him, even if he didn't really mean it anymore.

"I'm not. Who said I was — what? Fine."

"Promise I'll protect you," America smirked, holding out a hand.

Russia ignored it and rolled his eyes. "We'll see who needs it when we're getting chased by some maid screaming bloody murder."

"Hey, if you two die, I'm killing you myself!" Canada yelled to their receding backs as the two quickly disappeared into the darkness. Light barely graced these corners, it seemed, as they walked deeper into what seemed to be a long hallway of photos and peeling paint.