Split Personality

The meeting part three

Oh shit! Here we go! The song at the top I though just fit my book. I feel like I add bad songs or something.
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UN's POV:
   The Third Riech is standing in the door way. He is standing in the meeting room. He is standing in my building.

   Where did he come from? I thought he died.

   I observe him for a moment. He has his hands at his sides, fiddling with his clothes. His eyes are looking down and he over all looks nervous. So he can fear. Who would have thought.

   "Well, it seems as if we have something else to discuss today." I say sitting back down and folding my hands on the table.

   The room is still silent. "Well, you two can take a seat." I say to America and Britain. "You two, come here." I say darting a look at the two red flags.

Red's POV:
   He wants me to go over to him. This is it. I'm dead. I knew it. Soviet starts to walk over to him and he grabs my wrist on the way over. He drags me at first but trip a bit and start to walk because of the stumble.

   Just remember what you always do. Act confident. There words and actions can't affect you if you don't let them. Keep a blank face. Keep eye contact. Keep straight posture. Don't let Pink take control. If I can follow this, I should be fine.

   I fix myself to these rules. My hands are placed behind my back, spine straight, face blank, and I'm looking into the others mint green eyes. I think I'm forgetting something though.

   "Third Riech, such a surprise to see you." I don't respond. My lungs start to hurt. That's what I was forgetting! I need to breath as well. I try to make my breaths normal lengths.

   A small smile forms on his face. One of agitation. "You can try to act like everything is fine and you have it under control, but it's not and you don't, and you know it." I feel my stomach tighten from this comment. My face falters from the blank slate.

   "Well, sense I'm sure there will be no objections..." he starts. He reaches to his belt and pulls out a small handgun, and aims it at me. "So what do you think, the heart, or the head?" He asks looking me straight in the eyes.

   I get startled. Soviet looks as if he does not know what exactly to do. Am I ok with dying? Do I fear it? I think I do. But I used to accept it with open arms. What changed?

   I just ignore the feelings and look him back in the eyes. "Which ever you think is better. I don't care." Is all I reply with a monotone voice.

   He lowers the guns bit. "Your not even going to try?" He said with a voice of surprise. "Why would I? My words don't mater anymore, so why would I bother." I say, staying monotone.

   "So you were just going to accept whatever was going to happen?" He asked, putting his weapon filled hand down. I nod. So far this is going well.

   "Well then, you are either telling the truth, or you are being a really good liar. For now I vote option two. Britain, America, care to explain?" He says, turning his attention to the father and son he named.

   "Well UN sir, to start off, we did not find him. He came to us. So don't congratulate us on finding him, we didn't." America says  "Second he, how do I put this." I internally groan. It's not that hard to say. He continues to beat around the bush until I have enough. "I have Split Personality Disorder! Is it that so hard to say America?!" He nervously shrugs and I feel Soviet grab my wrist.

I try to pull my arm out. I hate being restrained. Why do you think I know multiple ways to get out of multiple restraints. But none of my skills matched the sheer strength and intimidation of the Russian gripping my wrist. I just give up the pointless fight and accept the fact he is now holding my wrist.

"If he has split personality disorder, where's the other one?" A softer voice said from across the room. I look to see who it is. I don't recognize them. They had a blue flag with a white misshapen blob in the middle. He was wearing a grey sweater, grey blue scarf and a dark blue winter hat. He looked, interesting.

"Well the one currently in control has been dubbed as 'Red'. He is the one we are most familiar with. The other one has been dubbed 'Pink'. He is vastly different from Red." Britain explains simply. "May we speak with him then?" UN asked looking at me. "I really don't think that's necessary." I say quickly. "Oh, but it is." UN retaliated.

Well shit. I don't have a choice. Here we go.

Red: Hay, these bastards want to talk to you.

Pink: I can't go out there! Your doing fine!

Red: dear god in heaven, just do it. You don't exactly have a choice.

Pink: fine...here we go.

Pink's POV:
I take control and open my eyes to see the meeting room. Something is holding my wrist, it's Soviet. I'm standing by the clear leader of this whole thing. He had a mostly blue face. He also had dove wings. Wings...

I look back up to the table and everyone is dead lock staring at me. This is a lot of attention, i hate the stupid feeling of fear and anxiety that was always with me. It's sparking up. The fear, the anxiety, my stupid overactive imagination is not helping this either.

"H-hello, I'm P-pink. B-but you p-probably alread-dy knew that." I chuckle in a nervous manner. There are many surprised expressions displayed across the room.

Antarctica's POV:
   When they said he was a lot different then Red as they call him I was not expecting the same personality you see from a kid with anxiety.

   He says a few more things before he just stops talking and shrinks down. I follow his gaze and it lines up with Germany. Oh god, this is going to be fun for the whole gang won't it.

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Hello again everyone. It's been quite a while. Some shit happened and things got weird. Bit it should be fine now. I have over fifty chapters prepared for this in google docs right now. I hope you are still there little grills. 

- Anyways, toodaloo, Grilly