Russian Brainwashing

Ch1

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!"

The day started off like almost any other meeting day would. Italy was talking his head off about pasta, England and France were at each other's throats, Japan was working on designs for a new Japanese horror game, Germany was failing at getting the meeting started, China was ignoring everyone, and Canada was being ignored (as usual).

America noted this as he looked around the room. He let out a sigh. America was bored, wait no he was worse than bored. He was DYING of boredom. Why were these blasted meetings so long?

"Great now I'm starting to sound like Iggy," he thought to himself.

America rubbed his forehead in frustration. Danget why couldn't they just start the meeting for once. He would have totally thought of himself insane for thinking that. Hell, he might have been convinced that this was a parallel version of himself thinking, but right now all he wanted to do was go home.

A cold chill suddenly went through his body.

"Hello Amerika how are you?"

He knew that childish, mostly insane voice from anywhere. Swiftly turning around America spotted Russia standing TO FRIGGIN CLOSE behind him. They were about and arm's length away, and not the long pair like Russia's but a short kind like Sealand.

"Bored as hell," America answered crossing his arms together and leaning back. He wanted to be as far away from the commie as possible.

"Well I just wanted to inform you that England wanted to speak with you outside," Russia gave one of his classic smiles, "He said it was very urgent."

"Hu?"

America looked around the room. England was nowhere to be seen and France was now conversing with a slightly disturbed Canada.

"Ok, sure whatever," mumbled America. He lazily got out of the chair and made his way to the doors. Why did England want to "talk"? Probably to complain how much of a waste he was. He groaned quietly to himself.

Once America stepped outside and close the door he sat on the steps. The sun was shining and there were almost no clouds in sight. It was a nice day; he should have been playing baseball instead of going to boring old conference meetings.

"Yo, Iggy ya wanted to talk?"

But, the only response he got back was the honking of cars and the rustling of leaves. It was quiet, to quiet.

"Hay Iggy where are y…AKKKK!" America stopped in mid-sentence because right then something cold, hard, and metal rammed into his skull. He slid across the ground barley conscious.

"Foolish Amerika-kan," America heard a voice say, but he was to dizzy to recognize who it was. He then felt two large leather hands slowly and carefully pick him up right before the darkness swallowed him and he blacked out.