Many Years Later...

Russia quickly rushed up to his room once he was out of sight. Slamming the door, he crumbled to the floor, sprawled out on the red carpet, the fraying blue wallpaper spinning around him. He could not see straight and his breathing was staggering. He clawed at his neck which felt like someone was hanging him from a noose. Tearing off his scarf, he realizes that the scars were being split open by some unseeable force. Meaning something was happening to his landform, to his people.

Loud explosions rang out in his head, causing the most painful migraines beyond imagination. Cuts, bruises, and gashes of all kinds started dotting around his back and legs, some snaking up to his chest. It was happening so fast and painful and he had no idea what the heck was going on. He did not want anyone to see him this way. He did not want anyone to see him so vulnerable. He did...not...

Russia screeched out in unbearable agony.

~~~~~

A scream ripped through the arguments going down in the meeting room downstairs. America immediately bolted up, causing everyone to turn toward him.

"Did you guys," he choked on his words, it just did not sound possible, "did you guys hear that?"

"I don't know, maybe Russia was just itching to hurt someone, so he's torturing someone in the basement," England huffed, clearly annoyed with America's outburst, while he was arguing with France.

"But didn't he go upstairs?" Canada pointed out.

China rolled his eyes, "I wouldn't be surprised if he had torturing devices around the house."

"I'm gonna check it out," America decided all of a sudden, leaving his seat.

England glared baffled, "You're going to check up on Russia? When did you care about him?"

"I'm the hero," America said simply, not really paying attention, just morbidly curious about what Russia was doing and why that scream sounded wrong to him, "It's my duty to help out people in need...when they really need it."

Before England could say anything else, America had left the meeting room and hurriedly, but quietly went to upstairs. Once there, he started hearing muffled crying and whimpers. Slowly creeping around the hall, he came to a large, dark oak door and pressed an ear to the wood. He definitely heard the cries of pain on the other side.

Jiggling the handle, he could tell the thing was locked. So, being as stereotypically American as he was, backing up, he rammed into the door with a fireman's kick. The door didn't fall down, that was intentional just kicked upward to break the hinges. America removed the standing piece of wood from the doorframe. Carefully, he glanced inside and saw Russia the one making the whimpering sounds. In fact, said Russian was staring tearfully up at America in utter fear and embarrassment.

America wasn't really one to mock people in these type of situations, "W-Whoa! Dude, what happened-?!"

"Go," Russia cried hoarsely, "get away from me!"

"Dude, just tell me what happened-" America started again, but Russia hissed and growled at him, though pathetically tried to scramble underneath his bed, which he does.

America didn't know what to think about this. Russia. This is Russia we're talking about. The big, scary, somewhat impossible to defeat for most; Russia. Now, here he was, bawling underneath his bed, his body jerking around in pain. America didn't even think about colonizing Russia or anything of the sort, but Russia definitely was thinking America would do something like that.

America figured that's what he was thinking, "Russia, I ain't gonna colonize you or anything. I just wanna know what's going on. You kinda left in the middle of the meeting and now we gotta wait and it's gonna take longer," he huffed poutingly, trying to get Russia to act normally.

Russia didn't say anything, just stayed lodged underneath his bed, crying to himself.

"Okay, dude, this is ridiculous," America lifted Russia's bed up like opening the hood to a car, "What happened? Seriously, you're scaring me and you're not acting normal! Call me...what was the insult, 'Capitalist Pig', or whatever? Do something normal! Why're you...so...so," America yanked Russia out from the floor, setting him aside, "You're bleeding really bad! Like...really bad!"

"Nyet, leave me," Russia tried to push America away, but then he found America ripping open his jacket and inspecting his wounds. This was really pride-killing.

"One...two...eight...um, yadda, yadda, yadda," America was counting his wounds underneath his breath, "Twenty-three?! What the freak happened to you!? Actually, you're not gonna even tell me, I'm gonna get England!"

"N-Nyet! Don't you dare!" Russia screamed, grabbing America by the ankle, hurting both of them. America fell over, causing the ruckus they're making upstairs more audible.

Meanwhile, the nations down bellow had been carefully trying to listen to what was going on. They couldn't hear much, mostly just screams that they couldn't put faces to, America screaming about something happening, 'twenty-three', and 'get England'.

England finally responded to the noise at the call of his name, "Alright, something bad is happening up there!"

"Is Russia doing anything to America?" Canada shuddered.

England didn't stick around to answer that. He and the rest of the nations climbed up the stairs to Russia's room. As they were going up, England had gotten a message and stopped short up the stairs. The others turned back and watched England's face pale and contort into fear.

"What," China spoke, "What happened, aru?"

"Terror," England breathed, everyone looked confused and leaned in closer, "terrorists. There are terrorists in Russia."

Terrorists are attacking Russia and had bombed in the Eurasia areas in 23 very different locations. The remaining countries peaked inside the doorless bedroom and saw America tucking Russia into bed, wearing a very worried and serious look on his face.

"So I've heard," America murmured, sounding quiet and out of mind, "so I've heard."