Russia 3rd Person POV:
Russia shivered under the wolf fur coat he wore as he stepped into an alleyway. The light faded out as he reached the end of it, and he clutched the letter just a bit harder, hearing its crinkly protest. Running his eyes around the many upturned boxes, he searched for a figure, but none came up to greet him.
Perfect. He was alone.
Looking over the boxes again, he picked his way over them till he found a larger box, standing out proudly from among them, and crouched behind it. The snow gladly rested on his coat, worn out from their travel through the demanding wind, and he paid them no mind. All he did was shift his ushanka to the side and strain to hear any noise that for sure couldn't be hidden with the amount of snow to crunch through. The white fur from his hat tried to brush against his eyes, but he ignored it.
He wasn't a detective for no reason, and more than once countries have tried to set him up in a trap and kidnap him. Just because a letter was sent to him directly, that didn't mean he could trust whoever sent it. It could have been a hoax, after all. So he just wanted to make sure.
After a couple of minutes of crouching there, he could feel his legs starting to stiffen up a bit, and he shifted around, wincing when they popped slightly.
He could just imagine what his family was doing at that moment, all believing that he went to be by himself in the mountains for a little while. It wasn't rare for him to go off to places like that, especially when there was a case he needed to solve. Most of them probably thought he managed to get another mission.
Which he kind of did. But he wasn't going to admit that.
Letting out a breath, his legs began to ache slightly. He still hadn't heard anybody come in. Maybe it was okay to stand up for just a second? Peeking around the box, the ally still looked empty. His eyebrows drew together and he unfolded the paper very carefully so it wouldn't shout out his position, and re-read the address, checking it up against his phone.
Yup. It was correct.
Sighing, he rubbed his forehead and decided that it was okay enough to stand up for a second. With a mitted hand, he reached for the top of the box and pulled down, getting his frozen legs to unwillingly listen to him. They cracked and popped all the way up, reminding him that he needed to hit the gym again this week and loosen them up again. Sure, he was stacked, but tell that to a frozen body.
When he finally straightened out, his legs got a tingling feeling inside them, close to needles stabbing him and tickling him at the same time, and his eyes widened when he realized that he had accidentally cut off the circulation of blood.
"Some great detective I am," he muttered, forcing his right leg to move just a small step forward. But, he had miscalculated just how much pressure he actually needed to move his leg, and instead kicked the large box, making it scrape loudly against the floor.
Flinching at the noise, he glanced around, thankful that nobody was here-a sharp pain erupted on his face and he stumbled back, gasping, falling onto the boxes behind him. They jammed themselves against his arms and back, trying their hardest to make him pay for their neglect.
He seethed, allowing himself to brace against it for a second, before he jumped up and swung a fist out blindly.
"Ow!"
Peeking his eyes open, he spotted a small, black figure crumpled up on the floor. They hugged their abdomen, writhing, but picked their head up. "Dang," a light male voice said through gritted teeth. "You pack a punch. What do you do all day, arm wrestling?"
If he had been in any other type of situation, he would have smiled at the joke. "Who are you," he shot out instead. "Why did you attack me?"
"Why were you hiding?" the figure countered, clambering to their hands and knees, one arm wrapped around his stomach. He looked like he was getting ready to sprint away at the slightest sign of a fight.
Russia crossed his arms. "Tell me who you are and we can proceed from there."
It was a gamble. He knew from experience that countries who were involved with dangerous things wanted answers as soon as they demanded some from a country, and if they were returned with another question, they could become unpredictable and fight. But, if this was the one who had written to him, then maybe they might explain themselves.
Instead, they perked up. "Oh, you got my letter!"
He frowned. "Hmm?" Glancing down, he saw very clearly the white paper against the darker background it was surrounded by.
"Oh. You were the one who wrote it?" Now that he realized it, Russia began to study the other country in front of him. He was pretty small, and when he finally stood up, massaging his chest wound, Russia noticed he was about a head and a half taller than him. Which was honestly nothing new; everybody was shorter than he was.
A black face mask covered his entire head so that Russia couldn't see the flag, and the smaller country pulled at it to fix the black goggles that peeked out from it. He was dressed up entirely in black from the long gloves he wore to his knee-high black boots. His pants were baggy and held a lot of closed pockets that could fit anything from a gun to knives, he guessed. And then his sweater was small and hugged tightly around him, which didn't have very much cushioning apparently.
"Yeah, that was me. You read it fully, right?"
Russia nodded, folding the letter back up and pushing it into his jeans pocket. "Vyou know who I am, rrright?"
"Of course I do! You're Russia, one of the scariest countries out there! And also the tallest. And you're perfect for helping me!"
He snorted. "Why can't you reach the cookie jar on top of the fridge?"
The country paused, and then he sniffled. Alarmed, Russia opened his mouth to say something, but was beaten to it. "Wow . . . you really can tell a joke! I never thought I would see the day," he added, his voice wavering with apparent emotion.
Russia scoffed and folded his arms again. He clearly knows who I am. Let's cut to the chase. "What did you need me here for?" he demanded gruffly. The sooner I know the problem, the sooner I can leave this crazy country behind.
"First!" The guy raised a finger. "I need you to promise me something. Okay?"
"Vat is your promise?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. The fur from his ushanka brushed against his eyes, reminding him that he still needs to turn his hat into the correct position, and he quickly fixed that mistake.
"I need you to promise it, because you can't do this mission by yourself. I barely know much about it, but with you, we can get even further into it."
"So what is the promise?"
"Ifyoupromisesaywhat."
He blinked. "What?"
Elated, the country clapped his hands. "Yay! You have now just promised to not send me to jail, like, ever. We cool now, right bro?"
Russia stood there, sputtering. "W-what? No-no, I didn't!" He clenched his fists together and one of his eyes twitched from frustration. "If you don't tell me what the heck is going on, I'm going to leave. So spit it out."
Instead of cowering away like he thought was going to happen, the other country puffed out his small chest. "I can't. Not until you promise."
Russia felt like tugging at his hair, a habit he still hadn't broken out of since he was younger. "So you want me to promise not to take you to jail, da?" he hissed. "You know I can't promise that. I don't even know who you are!"
The smaller country mumbled something under his breath, and sighed. "Then I guess you'll never know." He tapped his foot impatiently but didn't turn around to leave, clearly expecting Russia to change his mind.
Russia groaned. "Fine. I won't send you to jail if you promise something for me."
"What is it?" he asked tersely.
The taller country leaned in. "I can't tell you right now. But I need you to promise that, when I tell you what to do, you do what I ask without question."
The stalemate was thick in the air, squeezing any sense of hospitality out like water from a towel, forcing it to drip slowly to the floor and evaporate there.
"That's very indistinct," he said in a small voice.
He smirked. "Yeah, just like you."
They watched each other for a few minutes, aware that time was passing with a skip each second that they didn't say anything. The snow continued to float on down, like it was trying to be a distraction from the tense situation, but needless to say, its efforts were in vain.
Finally, after what felt like an hour had gone by, the smaller country sighed and nodded meekly. "All right. I'll keep my side of the promise, and you can't send me to jail. All right?"
He grunted, giving a curt nod to say that he agreed. He didn't even know what he wanted with this promise he created, but it felt nice to have somebody in his debt for once.
Besides, if he was doing something illegal by not sending this country to jail, then he wasn't going to do it for free. The country tilted his head and stared at his left pocket, and Russia sighed. "How did you know they were in there?"
"They are faintly outlined. Now, gimmi." He held out his palm, clearly expecting Russia to just hand over the handcuffs he had brought along, just in case. When he hesitated, the smaller country gave him a look that clearly radiated out through his mask, and with a grunt, he dragged them out of their warm pocket and threw them into the harsh, cold world. They were yanked away and stuffed into another pocket, possibly to never see the light of day again.
"Okay, now that you promised, I'll tell you what I know." He took a small breath, and a puff of steam evaporated in the cold air. "My name is America and-"
"YOU ARE WHO?!" Russia shouted, making the smaller country stumble back. "Is that why you made that filthy promise?!"
That can't be happening. The one country he never expected to come to him and ask for help was standing in front of him, daring to show his face after everything he had done.
"Well I need some help!" he answered, staring at the taller country. "I can't do this with anybody else, I just can't!"
"Oh, yeah, and you picked the one country that everybody already thinks is plotting the end of the world. That's really brilliant." He stormed up to him, making Ame squeak and spin around, trying to escape, but Russia grabbed his arm and started dragging him out of the alley.
"You promised!" America shouted, kicking at his legs to try and trip Russia up. "You . . . promise breaker!"
"Ouch. I am deeply wounded by that childish retort you just called me."
He struggled to get out of his grasp. "I could call you a lot worse, but I'm trying to get on your good side!"
Russia snorted. "That's cute. You're light years too late."
How could he not have recognized the voice? It was annoyingly high-pitched, and it radiated all the stupid smugness and confidence he thought he had. Which, newsflash, he didn't.
"All right then!" Ame snarled, his voice oozing with venom. "Then I can go to jail, you won't get whatever golden present it is you want from me, and the entire world can suffer. I told you this was important, and you won't even let me explain!"
Despite my flushed anger, curiosity also pecked at me. Whatever came out of America's mouth was never good. He was always jabbering away about the most useless things and wouldn't let anybody else put in another word otherwise.
But this time, he wasn't smirking and pushing himself out of yet another window as a large ruby stand was left empty, eluding himself from my grasp.
It was tempting, like a sweet delight that he knew would satisfy him for the rest of his life, and would gain him attention from his friends and family, but also raise awareness that he was somebody who could be trusted.
As America watched him, his eyes probably wide with hope, the temptation blossomed. Ame wasn't somebody to trust. And if he chose to listen to this wanted criminal, it could put not only his job at risk, but it would only confirm what everybody thought about him anyway: that he was unstable and had to be avoided at all costs.
"No."
The wail that Ame cried out did nothing to deter Russia, and he only bent over to retrieve his cuffs he thought for sure he wouldn't see again. As he slipped his hand into the large pocket, he felt the cold metallic object and began pulling them out.
Before he could fully get the item out, it slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. Russia grumbled and bent to pick it up, when the round metal disk that he thought was the cuffs split open, and a blue screen floated in the air above it.
"Strange sightings have been appearing," a woman's voice began. Her spectacles flashed as she shuffled the papers around, and her keen green eyes pierced Russia as he watched it.
He turned to Ame. "Vat is this?"
The smaller country stared at the floor, like something interesting was splayed upon it, and he sighed again and picked the object up. With the device came the floating screen, and when he tried to wave it away, his hand fazed through it. He frowned.
"There are reports of some countries glitching out," she went on. "It's random, but sometimes the countries will be missing part of their fingers, teeth, or even hair. Strangely, they don't feel any pain. After a couple of seconds, they return to normal."
Russia turned to America. "What is this?"
"A recorder," he said softly. "I snuck it in."
His gaze turned to ice, and the reward of throwing him into jail was even more tempting now. "So you're just listening to a conversation you shouldn't have?" He waved his hand over the screen again, trying to somehow turn it off. Meanwhile, the lady kept on talking.
"It's nothing too large to worry about, but if this continues-or spreads-we may need to figure out what the cause of it is."
Frustrated, he jerked the thing at Ame. "How do you turn it off?!"
Without a word, the smaller country took the device and pushed the two split ends together, and the video immediately cut out. "There. That's what I was trying to talk to you about!"
"How could it possibly involve me?" Russia asked, finally fishing out the handcuffs.
"Because you're a detective! And, better still, friends with UN. You can worm information out of him, I know you can!"
Russia bared his teeth. "Niet, I'm not doing that." He grabbed the country's hands and Ame tried to yank himself out of the cuffs, but they were quickly slipped on. When he had Ame in the cuffs, he couldn't resist the smile that tugged at his face. "Look at that," he crowed, needling the tense country. "It was that easy to get you into the cuffs. I should have thought about a distraction like this years ago."
"I wasn't a criminal "years ago," he muttered hotly. "You're making a big mistake. This is just one small conversation I have recorded. I have others that can tell you more."
Russia shook his head and started dragging the country with him. "I don't care. This "glitching" stuff doesn't affect me at all."
"But it will!" Ame shouted, once again trying to kick at him. "You'll see! And then you'll be sorry that you ever put me in jail!"
"Fat chance."
They exited the alley, and the bright clouds stung his eyes, chiding him for spending too much time in the dark, but he brushed it off and hauled America after him. There was a jail nearby that he could send Ame to, and then the cops there can take care of him after that.
Countries stared at them as they walked past, whispering things and pulling out their phones to snap quick pictures. Russia felt himself swelling with pride. He really had done it, hadn't he? The monster of all professional thieves was locked up in cuffs, and moodily heading downhill to a jail where he would spend quite a few years inside. That was definitely going to look nice on Russia's plate. Even if nobody knew who he was yet with that mask.
A mouth-watering smell overtook the crisp air of winter, and they passed by a bundled up man who was selling warm hot dogs to the public, and a good line was formed behind it. As the scent claimed them too, Russia's stomach grumbled, and he realized that he hadn't eaten breakfast before he left. On the way back home, he could possibly order one.
They quickly passed it, and Ame kicked at his legs yet again. Russia stumbled, but didn't fall, and he clenched on Ame's arm tighter to where he let out a strangled noise.
Glaring at the thief, he shuffled onward, when a scream shook the air.
"WATCH OUT!"
At first, Russia didn't even look back, figuring it was for some other country. But a jumble of screams and panicked words made him glance over his shoulder, and he gasped as the hot dog cart that they had just passed came rolling at them, crashing into them and forcing them to meet the floor. The hold he had on Ame weakened, and that was all it took.
The Cat Thief yanked his arm away.
In a blind panic, Russia tried to grab Ame's arm again, but only saw a glimpse of the black figure briefly turning to look at him before darting off into the street, disappearing.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry about that! Are you okay, sir?"
Grunting, Russia picked himself off the floor, already knowing that when Ame gets out of sight, he typically stays that way. So instead, he just stood up and turned to the hot dog man who was wringing his hands, his face scrunched up in pain. "Been better," he commented dryly.
His eyes flickered to the spot where Ame disappeared to. "Who was he? Somebody dangerous?"
Russia casually looked at the spot and shrugged. "No. We were just playing around."
Ohh, how bitter those words tasted.
The man glanced at him, but since there really wasn't anything to say, just nodded. "Sorry about that, once again. If you got hurt, I can pay for the medical expenses."
He shook his head and patted the air down. "It's okay. I'm fine. But how did the cart roll down?"
"I don't know. Its stand is usually kicked up. Maybe I didn't tighten it all the way?" The skepticism outlining the words was bolded, underlined, and italicized.
Suddenly, Russia knew exactly how the cart rolled down the hill. It happened when Ame tried to trip him, which was just a distraction for his getaway plan.
For acting like a total dimwit, that guy actually held some brains behind his thick ego.
At least Russia got to take home a few free hot dogs as well as a newfound grudge.
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Yeah I have no idea how 😕 😅
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