May 17th, 1945

When Russia ended Nazi Germany

BANG BANG BANG!

Russian voices could be heard from outside the door.

A small child, barely five, looks up toward his anguished father, "Daddy, what's happening?" The mother of the child looks down at him sweetly. "Not now sweetie. We need to be quiet or bad men are going to get us." She looks at her husband expectantly. Sweat beading down his forehead, he glances from his loved ones to the small door that kept the Russians at bay. It wouldn't hold for long.

"Honey, take the kids and hide in the cellar, I'm going to add more to block the door." The father begins to reinforce the door with furniture, decorations, and anything else he could find. Mean while the mother quickly tried to usher her only two sons into the air raid bunker underneath the house. One child was only four, completely unaware of the danger just outside. The other was eleven, and knew enough about the situation to know this day could be there last.

The eleven-year-old disregarded his mothers, running up to help his father barricade the doors. In a quick, angered tone the father said, "What are you doing!? I thought you were-"but the father was never able to finish his sentence. With a fiery explosion, the barricade exploded from the Russians grenade, sending the boy and his father flying to the floor. Apparently fed up with this small rebellion, the five Russians stormed into the house yelling furiously in their home tongue. As the eleven-year old tried to get up from the rubble, he heard a loud BANG and looked to see a bullet travel straight between his father's eyes.

In stunned silence, the boy just laid in the rubble. This looked to the Russians as if he was killed from the explosion, so they left the room, going straight to the bunker. The eleven-year-old shakily got up, stared at his father's corpse, tears welling up in his eyes, and ran. Before he could exit an inch from the house, he heard four distinctive sounds before he ran into the countryside of Germany. He heard the weeping of his four-year-old brother, a gunshot, followed by the anguished cry of his mother and the laughing of the Russians.

Present day, 1972

The Medic glared into the eyes of his giant comrade. "Heavy, my dear friend, zhat is vhy I hate Russians." With that, the Medic strolled out of the mess hall as if nothing had happened, leaving the Heavy to take in the story he had just been told. The Spy materialized out of nowhere, breathing in his cigarette. "I'm guessing you regret asking him why he had such a blind hatred towards you, no?"

The Heavy looked up at the frenchie, a sorrowful look in his eye. "Da, Heavy think it would be better to have left box unopened." The giant shakily rose from his seat, and trudged into the bunker to polish Sasha, not realizing he had given the Spy more information in his black-mail arsenal. The Spy relaxed, put his feet up, and took another drag of his cigarette before smothering it, a smug grin on his sly face as he did so.