An Axis powers Hetalia Russia fic
WARNING: LOTS OF BLOOD!
He tasted copper as he licked the dripping crimson from his lips. Warm red spots dotted his forehead, an ocean of red spraying his body.
Next…
Terrified eyes stared up at him making him smirk. The trash gasped, eyeing the blood that covered now stained red teeth. Russia spat, never taking his eyes off of the quivering thing in front of him, as he raised his bloodied pipe into the frigid air. A loud crunch could be heard as he brought it down on the scum that lay huddled in the corner. Red sprayed the walls dripping down the tan wallpaper like rain.
Every time he struck, an eye would twitch, a leg would move, or a hand would reach out for mercy. Any sense of remorse or smidgen of sadness was swallowed by the screams and shrieks of the garbage that lay bleeding in front of him
He was so happy.
As the twitching stopped Russia stepped over to the disheveled desk to eye the contents of its surface. Pens, papers, documents paperweights, … a nameplate.
Ivan snarled, clenching his jaws in a rage that made his teeth grind together and his gums bleed.
A name? A name! This wretch deserved no name! It didn't deserve a title. It didn't deserve something as simple as a name. It was nothing. It shouldn't even exist.
Wooden splinters scattered through the air before Ivan took his leave, leaving behind three mounds of flesh and a pile of bloodied wood.
He would do the same to those… other countries.
America with its depressions and failing economy. Egypt with its wide spread hunger and failed education. Austria with its industrial pollution and horrific crimes.
Because they deserved to hurt. He would make them bleed and writhe in pain.
The thought made him smile and his grip tighten on the dripping crimson pipe.
Oh yes. They would feel it. Every little bit of it. And he would be there watching, smiling before going about his business just as they had done to him.
Revenge would be sweet; it would taste of copper and feel warm as it ran down his calloused fingers onto their dead faces.
The imaginary crunch of Canada's glasses under his boot, the last dieing whales of the Italian brothers as he impaled them with his pipe over and over and over again.
It filled him with such joy.
That's why they needed to become one with him. Couldn't they see it? If they joined him they would never hurt again. So they could never feel what he did as he bled alone, onto the snow that could cool his anger so long ago. If they joined him he would never be like that again. He would never be alone again.
All would be forgiven only if they became one with Russia.
Ivan walked down the hallway, deep crimson footprints staining the already red carpet. The bloody smears on the wall made his heart jump for joy. The feel of the warm sickeningly sweet substance streaking across the wallpaper under his gloved fingertips was pure ecstasy.
People called him crazy, but he knew better. He was a realist. Ivan knew the basics of life, kill or be killed. But he would change that. He may not be as old as China or Japan but he knew better than them, he could do better than them. He would make a third option. Kill, be killed, or become one with Russia.
No one would ever be alone…
This made him smile until his dry lips cracked and bled.
Ivan pushed a corps aside with his pipe before opening the door. The streets were empty as he walked through the snow leaving dark crimson footprints and a streak of red from his dragging pipe.
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Sooo what did ya think?