(ON HIATUS) My Big Book of Countryhuman/Statehuman Oneshots

Messenger 🇰🇿

"Oh thank God you made it!" Sir UN cried, rushing towards Kazakhstan, a messenger's bag brimming with letters in his hands.

Kazakhstan gave the relieved United Nations and small smile. "Of course I did. Someone's gotta do that route."

He tried his hardest to keep a neutral expression but in reality, Kazakhstan was terrified. He was a Winged Courier, a countryhuman who delivered messages and other packages to remote places unreachable by plane. It was a dangerous line of work but Kaz wouldn't trade it for the world. He loved his job and would keep doing it until it killed him.

However there was one route, the infamous Route 17B, that was unique in the way that no Winged Courier that ever took returned the same, if they came back at all. Those who survived could never seem to recount what they saw but they always had an face like a war survivor. The last person who went, Poland, was so legitimately frightened by whatever happened that she had retreated into her room and still hasn't come out yet.

Route 17B had fallen to Kazakhstan as he was the only one left physically strong enough to make the long flight. The route extended from the UN headquarters in New York, across the Atlantic with many stops on the numerous small islands, through the dense forests of Finland and finally ended somewhere outside of Moscow.

Kaz took the messenger's bag from Sir UN and slipped it over his shoulder, carefully adjusting the strap around his golden wings. He looked up at UN and saluted. UN bowed deeply and Kaz started off towards the launch deck.

As he pushed through the magnificent glass doors, he saw a young girl waiting for him. She was familiar but his mind drew a blank when he tried to recall her name. She approached him somberly and pressed something into his hands. He looked at the small metallic object carefully. Was it a tracker?

"Dad said that Sir UN was tired of losing people to this Route so I made a tracking device," she explained, confirming his suspicions. The girl continued, "If you come across anything, and I mean anything out of the ordinary, push that little red button on the side and an extraction team will be dispatched immediately to go retrieve you."

"Thank you," Kaz murmured.

She nodded, extending her own black wings to a respectful half fold and curtsying, stepping back to give Kaz the room he needed to take off. Kazakhstan pinned the tracker to his jacket and walked to the middle of the deck, extending his large wings to the proper position. With a deep breath he shot skyward, the UN headquarters growing smaller and smaller behind him.

He flew for many, many hours, the wind whistling through his hair and over his wings. Flight was something special to Kazakhstan. He felt free, untethered by all human laws. He couldn't imagine what his life would be like if he didn't have his wings or ability to fly. He probably wouldn't have survived this long.

Almost a full day later, Kazakhstan angled his decent towards a tiny island rising out of the sea. A dock extended out into the water for several metres. At the edge stood a girl. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement. Kaz smiled at her joy. This was why he was a messenger. He brought smiles to people's faces and made their days slightly better. It made him feel validated.

Kazakhstan landed gently on the dock, stumbling slightly as gravity caught up with him.

"Do you have something for me?" the islandhuman asked eagerly.

Kaz dug through his bag for a second before pulling out a couple of envelopes and a small box. "Why yes I do."

He extended the parcels across to the girl who took the. She looked at them for a second before trapping him in a hug. "Thank you so much!"

Kazakhstan chuckled lightly, untangling himself from her arms. "You are very much welcome."

The island grinned sheepishly, stepping back to give him the necessary room to take off. She waved after him as he rose in the sky. Kaz stopped for a second and waved back, before shooting off towards the next island.

Almost everyone of his stops went like this. Islandhumans or villagehumans in places so remote that they rarely saw people from the outside world. They were always so overjoyed when he would land before them with a letter or package for them. It was probably the only thing they would get for months at a time.

As Kazakhstan neared the last stop, he was beginning to think that the stigma behind Route 17B was exaggerated. He had made hundreds of stops and not one thing bad had happened to him. Although he couldn't shake the feeling in his gut that things were about to go horribly wrong.

Kazakhstan landed outside of a rundown cabin in the middle of the Russian countryside. Looking at the cabin he felt chills run down his spine. He took a deep breath and approached the door, pulling the last letter out of his bag. He lifted his hand to knock when the door suddenly opened and a large, stocky man appeared.

His skin was cracked and scared. Age had clearly not been friendly to him. A mask covered his face letting only his eyes be visible to the world. They were an icy blue and froze Kaz's blood in his veins.

"A Winged Courier," the man said in a thick Russian accent, "I didn't expect you guys to keep coming here."

"W-well, we have a duty to get messages to e-everyone," Kazakhstan stuttered out.

"Everyone, huh..." Kaz got a weird vibe from this man and felt his wings tense up under his gaze. He fought his urge to run and held the letter out to him. The man took it and looked at the envelope. Kazakhstan started to back away to take flight when suddenly, the man grabbed his wrist.

"Do you not remember me?" He took off his mask and a face Kaz hoped to never see stared back at him. USSR. Kazakhstan reached down and slammed the red button on the tracker. The Soviet chuckled and twisted Kaz's arm to a painful position, preventing him from getting away.

"You're not getting away from me this time...," the Soviet purred.

Kazakhstan's heart began to race. Oh God, anyone, help me, his mind screamed. A hundred thoughts of what might happen to him now ran through his head. None of them were good. He felt USSR caressing one of his wings. "Ya know, I always thought your golden feathers were pretty."

"Let me go," Kazakhstan growled, trying his hardest to keep his voice even, "My people no longer fear to you. I don't fear to you."

"Maybe not now, but they will, oh they will soon." Kaz felt something cold pressing against his back. Kazakhstan didn't need to see it to know what it was. A gun. Kaz didn't mean to but he let a few tears slip down his face. He didn't want to die like this.

"Heh, look at that. Pathetic," USSR spat, "The great Kazakhstan, trembling. Do you not think I remember all of the times you would try to create a revolution? But of course my beloved Russia would stop you but you still did enough damage to me to let someone like Poland kill me. Poland, of all countries. Do you think I had forgotten all of the times you had found loop holes in all my rules and showed them to your siblings. Kaz, I hate to kill you but, you deserve it."

Kazakhstan heard a bang and a blinding pain blossomed across his back seconds before he dropped to the ground, unconscious.

Hours later, Kaz awoke on a plane, several voices talking all around him. Everything looked blurry, like he was looking trough frosted glass. He saw people moving around him. He felt someone poking his wings.

"Do you'll think he'll be able to fly again?"

"Once Switzerland works her magic, I'm sure he will."

A young man crouched in front of him, "Are you okay, sir," he asked in a smooth voice. Kazakhstan's eyes fell on the armband that the person wore. A dark blue band with a colourful emblem in the center. There was lettering but Kaz couldn't make it out.

"Y-yes," Kazakhstan managed to stutter out, his throat screaming in pain as he did.

The man nodded, "Okay, if need anything while we're in flight, I'm Wichita, just shout my name, I'll be here in a jiffy."

Kaz managed to nod before he blacked out again.

~~~
Part 2 anyone?

You better believe there's going to be one.