[RL - Russia - Adventures in Facistland]

[ofhopeandglory]

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[insovietme]

[Russia's been having a bad few decades. The sum of it has hit him, thanks in part to the wonderful community. There's a war to win out here. A battle with his boss' name on it. A battle he can't afford to lose. Which is why when he feels a strange tug on the pit of his stomach, he lets go and follows it. There is no resistance. Not anymore. No use fighting what can't be fought. No use fighting something that isn't the real war.]

[He arrives, bleeding, broken, eyes flashing violent violet, and lead pipe firmly held in his hands. A dead end. But not for him. He smiles like a knife in the dark. He might as well give the people what they want. And then the lead pipe swings like a hammer, and the bodies pile up in the alley. The lucky ones start to flee.]

Hello, England!

[He says with a grin. With nonchalance. Eyes still violet in the dark.]

[ofhopeandglory]

[.... Okay, so it wasn't a dragon.

That isn't England's first thought - that resembles something much closer to "WHAT IN THE FLYING FUCK IS RUSSIA DOING HERE?" His second thought is that he's grateful that he managed to get rid of the bloody neofacists at least.

And his third thought is that he's now on his own with Russia, in a deserted alleyway, and he still has that goddamn lead pipe and that grin on his face.

Fuck.]

Just once, can I summon something and have it not be you?!

[insovietme]

[Now that people have been sufficiently bloodied, Ivan actually looks around. He notices the badges. Red ones. They seem familiar, but not quite. Almost like Germany's, but not quite. He's much happier now. A fascist is a fascist, and he's had more than enough at them at home. Home, which he must protect. This is just an extension of that. Another way to fight them. To turn something black into something red. So he smiles at England, and shrugs his shoulders. He still grips his pipe. He still bleeds on the pavement. Some of the blood isn't his.]

Nyet, it does not seem so. What are you doing here? [Conversationally.]

Did England need help? [Absentmindedly.]

[ofhopeandglory]

[He sighs. Of course he's not listening, not really. And of course he isn't fazed at all by the situation, which just seems horribly unfair, all things considered.

And then he mutters.] What am I doing here...

[But he shakes that off pretty quickly, because when one is dealing with Russia, one can't afford to start thinking too deeply about things. So instead he settles for a dry:]

Evidently.