Family Ties [Part 19]
Feb. 25th, 2010 08:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellzabethTitle: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): Wales, Canada, America, England, Mexico, Ireland.
Rating: 15
Warnings: Russia is really fucking creepy, without even being in the room.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
“Éibhear!” called Wales, shining his torchlight into the dense forest at the back of Canada’s home. He could hear the others shouting from different directions, but in all felt this would be pointless. If Éibhear didn’t want to be found, he most likely wouldn’t be. Aine had nearly kicked a hole in the wall in frustration before María escorted her outside.
Question was: where would he go? Town was about three miles west of here, and the woods were thick and full of bears that were not so tame as Kumajiro. Besides which, there was the worrying concept that Canada’s house was bugged.
Or worse, that they had a mole in their midst.
Wales hadn’t voiced this idea, because America would immediately start pointing fingers and typically it would be at Mexico, which would start a not-so-playful fight that they didn’t want to deal with right now. Besides which, he had a horrible, creeping suspicion on who it was anyway, but he liked having his head attached to his shoulders and Ireland was quite good at removing them when upset.
But the concept of Northern Ireland falling to the New World Order couldn’t be fully dismissed.
The radio at his belt crackled to life, and Canada’s soft voice called. “Wales, do you copy?”
Wales unclipped it and answered. “I copy. What’s happening?”
“We’re regrouping at the house. We need a better plan than this. I can’t feel him anywhere on my land anyway, so he must be in neutral territory or- or someone’s captured him.”
“Or he ran away himself.” Darren muttered, glancing once more into the dark forest before turning back the way he came. Good thing he had a relatively good sense of direction.
“What’d you say? I didn’t hear.” Asked Canada.
“Nothing, I just hope he’s not hurt.”
“Mm, me too. See you when we get back, over.”
“Right, over and out.”
The situation was dire, more than it had ever been. It wasn’t like the Kirkland family were unused to betrayals from within their midst. Especially from within their midst, actually. But it had almost seemed like they would catch a break, just for a little while. Life just liked to screw them over like that.
There was something watching him from the trees. There weren’t fae in Canada’s land, not like he knew them anyway. Unfamiliar beasts. Wales didn’t want any quarrel with them, but didn’t quicken his pace. Most creatures, magical or not, only became more interested if the target of their interest started to run. So he’d be the last back, so what? It would give him a little more time to think.
Maybe Wales should have walked faster back to the house. Then, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.
“Al, you didn’t have to tie me to the chair!”
“You might be an NWO spy!”
“America, listen to your brother-”
“Iggy, how could you, he blew you up!”
“Al, don’t be a paranoid moron.” Mexico clocked him upside the head, probably intending to dislodge the blonde’s glasses in the process. Unfortunately for her, they stayed in place, and she got a glare for her efforts.
“I’m not paranoid, I’m just aware! Of the danger and the commies and stuff!”
‘Déjà vu.’ thought Wales. “One, there are no commies, Alfred. Two, let Canada go, this is no time for infighting. Three, we need to strategize.” He sat down on the armchair across the room, massaging his aching leg. It was a good thing that normal injuries didn’t stick around as long as the being-a-Nation induced ones, but this one was being a pain.
“Strategy, yeah, great, but what if they hear us, what then?” America frowned, folding his arms. Mexico cut Canada free while his back was turned.
“They won’t hear us.” Wales assured them, then checked the room for Ireland. It seemed she’d either gone to the bathroom or was otherwise out of earshot. Semi-safe. “Their mole’s not in the room now.”
“Mole?” Echoed England. Wales watched a pieces slide together and the look of horror that crossed his brother’s face. “Oh, that sick bastard.”
“What? I don’t get it! Who’s the mole?” America flailed, ever unable to read the atmosphere.
“Oh!” Canada’s hands flew up to his mouth. “But how did he do that?”
Wales shook his head. “By gaining control of the information networks. We were sending information in, despite there being a block for it going out. The NWO, occupying his territory, could get to all the information they wanted.”
“They’ve set up camp in his head. He’s like some sort of observation camera-” Mexico looked revolted. “That’s- damn, that’s a good plan, but it’s low. I bet he doesn’t even know, and if he does he can’t say.”
“You… know what this means we’ll have to do, right?” England said, clenching his fists.
“No, I don’t! Someone tell me what’s going on!” demanded America. England heaved a sigh, face grave.
“Northern Ireland’s the mole, America. An unintentional one, but still, a spy.”
“He’s what?” cried Ireland, appearing in the doorway. She was holding a tea tray, white knuckled. Apparently, she’d heard everything.
“Now, Aine-” Wales started, but paused when he noticed Ireland didn’t look angry anymore but rather… resigned. Something clicked. “You suspected it too, didn’t you.”
She shook her head, lips a flat line. “No, but it fits. I just… god damn it.” The tea tray was set down a little harder than was necessary, but it was excusable. “And it means that we’ll have to…” she didn’t finish it. England did.
“Isolate him. By force, if needed. And to do that, we have to find him first.”
America considered this. “Why don’t we just wait? If he’s a mole, and he doesn’t know he’s a know or doesn’t know we know he’s a mole-” he paused, making sure he hadn’t got any double negatives in there. “then he’ll come back, right? To continue spying.”
Mexico stared at him. “Wow, you said something sensible. The world might end.” She wondered aloud. America flipped her off casually.
“Fine.” Said Ireland, sitting heavily in a chair and folding her arms, expression pinched. “We’ll wait.”
Waiting consisted mainly of Ireland pacing restlessly before Canada took pity and offered to show her the armory, England and America arguing over what their team name should be, and Wales and Mexico reviewing the battle plans for how they were going to save Israel from his neighbours.
"We could always come in from the Med, since Greece has offered his ports to us." Wales pondered. Mexico frowned.
"Sí, but Turkey's also probably keeping an eye out from that direction." she noted. "We'd need to get past his boats. I know his navy's not amazing, but we want this to be as easy as possible."
"Less lives lost the better." Wales agreed.
"League of Heros." America insisted in the background.
"That's copyrighted." England replied, eyebrows scrunched together as he checked already taken names on Wikipedia. "Oh for fuck's sake, Scotland's even vandalised my page."
"Oo, lemme see!"
"If we come in from the East, Saudi Arabia's going to get in the way majorly." Darren talked over them. "Even if we fly in, she'll see us and it won't be pretty."
"From the south, over Egypt?" Mexico suggested. Wales made a frustrated sound.
"That'd be bloody brilliant, yes, if he would just pick what side he's on." he sighed, running a hand through his hair, which was starting to get a little on the long side. "I get his situation is troublesome, but really, Israel needs backup and I'm not having my boys shot down when they're unprepared."
"Or mine." Mexico agreed. "It would be really helpful if India was actually fighting, since we could pincer them, but we can't force her into it."
"International Defense Association." England said abruptly. America scoffed.
"That's not catchy at all! You suck at this, Iggy."
"Well why don't you do better then!"
There was a light rapping sound on the window. Everyone froze in what they were doing, turning slowly to peer through the glass and into the early morning sunrise. A familiar shape, silhouetted against the morning glow, in slightly damp pajamas under a coat that probably belonged to Canada.
"Act normal." muttered England, lips barely moving, before speaking up. "Éibhear! Where the bloody hell have you been?!" the Brit was a good actor, if nothing else. He looked appropriately distressed as he marched outside and pulled Northern Ireland back into the warmth of the house, dragging him back into the room and sitting him in a chair, forcing a mug of hot tea into his hands. "Your sister has been worried sick about you, you're not well and this is no time to be running around in the Canadian country side!" he fussed. Éibhear looked sheepish.
"I'm sorry Art, I just woke up outside..." he did seem rather bewildered. Wales totaled this up to mean that Northern Ireland was unaware that he was being controlled. Good.
"Of all the times for you to develop sleep walking..." the Englishman grumbled. Aine skidded into the room, eyes immediately landing on her brother. She seemed to choke on air for a moment.
"Hi Aine." Éibhear said, looking mock terrified. "You're not going to hit me again, are you?"
Ireland shot a glance as England. He gave a tiny nod. She drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
"Ahh, please don’t hurt me?" Éibhear chuckled nervously, then he seemed to notice the face America had been making the entire time and paused. "Uh... Why does Alfred look constipated guys?"
Wales immediately cursed inwardly at America's over-honest face. The blonde had never been one to hide his emotions well. He was about to make something up when Mexico piped up. "He ate too many of my tacos. The real ones, with the proper spice, not his wimpy ones." she snarked at him. This only served to make the expression on Alfred's face worse. He bit his lip.
"Are they that bad?" Éibhear laughed, but his eyes didn't leave America's expression. The two seemed intent at not blinking at each other. A moment of awkward silence later, and England stomped on America's foot.
"Ow!!" he yelped, finally breaking eye contact to glare down at his former mentor. "What!?"
"Stop that." England hissed. Aine successfully distracted Northern Ireland while the others talked. "What part of act natural did you not understand?"
"But Iggy-"
"We don't want to give the game away so soon as this."
"England-!"
"And we still need to find a solution to break him out of it, and to find out what he did while he snuck out, because he wouldn't for no reason-"
"Arthur!" Alfred finally spoke over him, not bothering to keep his voice down, pointing at Northern Ireland. "How long have his eyes been purple, huh?!"
Everyone froze. Aine suddenly retracted her hands from where she'd been holding her brother's. The ends of his fingers were blue with cold, the rest of him ghostly pale. His face, shocked and wide eyed (and they were purple; a strange, vivid colour that clashed horribly with his red hair) slowly cracked, reshaping into a grin. Not his usual mischievous, warm smile, no. This grin could have been chipped out of solid ice. The room dropped a few degrees in temperature, not as much as when in Russia's undiluted presence, but noticeable. England gave an involuntary shiver.
"Oh, very good, America." it was still his voice, still his face, but by god if it didn't sound exactly like Russia. Ireland made an outraged sound at the back of her throat.
"Get out of his head, you frozen bastard!" she snarled at him, but didn't dare move to touch him, because it was still Northern Ireland's body. Still her brother.
"Nyet, it is quite comfortable, even if there is a lot of rain." he commented amicably. "It is still warmer than my house, and I much prefer this method of talking to my enemies. You cannot hurt me, da?" he chuckled, high and childish. Wales felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "I should really thank Latvia again for helping me perfect this technique so long ago."
"You son of a bitch!" America advanced, grabbing the front of Northern Ireland's shirt and lifting him slightly out of the chair. Russia giggled at him.
"Ahaha, I do so like that face on you, America." he nigh whispered. "But ah, now, what will you do? You cannot simply beat me up. What will the big hero do now?"
America grit his teeth, shoving the possessed man back into his chair. "Fine. Matt, do you still have that bit in the basement?" America muttered. Everyone looked to Canada, Mexico mumbling "when the hell-". Matthew nodded, expression worried.
"Alright, let me go find the key." and with that he fled the room.
"Hey, what bit?" asked Ireland, looking concerned, hovering near her brother, but out of arm's reach. America ignored her.
"María, help me grab him." Surprisingly, Mexico did as told, which only made Russia laugh more, only stopping when Wales stuffed a wadded up napkin in his mouth. Those violet eyes had a dangerous glint to them now. Mexico grabbed Northern Ireland's legs, America his arms.
Ireland started forwards. "Careful you idiots!"
Russia spat the napkin out of his mouth smiling at Ireland. Using North's smile no less. "I'm so glad you still care, Aine." Ireland made a disgusted sound.
"If you weren't fouling up my brother's body, I would hit you, you creepy motherfucker." she spat, following down the hall. North's smile twisted into something more like Russia's.
"Ah, and here I thought you might understand me."
"I told you before, I don't want anything to do with your plans, and you're also fecking insane."
"Your brother said that too."
Ireland nearly did hit him that time, Canada re-appearing just in time to catch her fist. "This way." he said softly, leading them down the stairs.
England sat down heavily in his chair, once they were out of sight, and buried his face in his hands. "Bloody Mary on a pogo stick."
"That's an interesting image." Wales said dryly. "America's surprisingly good at the whole leadership thing when need be, eh?"
“Don’t start.”
Notes:
- Try not to think too hard about how Russia's mind control thing works. You may summon Greece. Just remember the MST3K mantra (Warning! TVTropes will ruin your life and at the very least steal the next 5 hours from you.)
- Reason I'm so late? As though it wasn't obvious.
Part 20
Characters (in this chapter): Wales, Canada, America, England, Mexico, Ireland.
Rating: 15
Warnings: Russia is really fucking creepy, without even being in the room.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
“Éibhear!” called Wales, shining his torchlight into the dense forest at the back of Canada’s home. He could hear the others shouting from different directions, but in all felt this would be pointless. If Éibhear didn’t want to be found, he most likely wouldn’t be. Aine had nearly kicked a hole in the wall in frustration before María escorted her outside.
Question was: where would he go? Town was about three miles west of here, and the woods were thick and full of bears that were not so tame as Kumajiro. Besides which, there was the worrying concept that Canada’s house was bugged.
Or worse, that they had a mole in their midst.
Wales hadn’t voiced this idea, because America would immediately start pointing fingers and typically it would be at Mexico, which would start a not-so-playful fight that they didn’t want to deal with right now. Besides which, he had a horrible, creeping suspicion on who it was anyway, but he liked having his head attached to his shoulders and Ireland was quite good at removing them when upset.
But the concept of Northern Ireland falling to the New World Order couldn’t be fully dismissed.
The radio at his belt crackled to life, and Canada’s soft voice called. “Wales, do you copy?”
Wales unclipped it and answered. “I copy. What’s happening?”
“We’re regrouping at the house. We need a better plan than this. I can’t feel him anywhere on my land anyway, so he must be in neutral territory or- or someone’s captured him.”
“Or he ran away himself.” Darren muttered, glancing once more into the dark forest before turning back the way he came. Good thing he had a relatively good sense of direction.
“What’d you say? I didn’t hear.” Asked Canada.
“Nothing, I just hope he’s not hurt.”
“Mm, me too. See you when we get back, over.”
“Right, over and out.”
The situation was dire, more than it had ever been. It wasn’t like the Kirkland family were unused to betrayals from within their midst. Especially from within their midst, actually. But it had almost seemed like they would catch a break, just for a little while. Life just liked to screw them over like that.
There was something watching him from the trees. There weren’t fae in Canada’s land, not like he knew them anyway. Unfamiliar beasts. Wales didn’t want any quarrel with them, but didn’t quicken his pace. Most creatures, magical or not, only became more interested if the target of their interest started to run. So he’d be the last back, so what? It would give him a little more time to think.
Maybe Wales should have walked faster back to the house. Then, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.
“Al, you didn’t have to tie me to the chair!”
“You might be an NWO spy!”
“America, listen to your brother-”
“Iggy, how could you, he blew you up!”
“Al, don’t be a paranoid moron.” Mexico clocked him upside the head, probably intending to dislodge the blonde’s glasses in the process. Unfortunately for her, they stayed in place, and she got a glare for her efforts.
“I’m not paranoid, I’m just aware! Of the danger and the commies and stuff!”
‘Déjà vu.’ thought Wales. “One, there are no commies, Alfred. Two, let Canada go, this is no time for infighting. Three, we need to strategize.” He sat down on the armchair across the room, massaging his aching leg. It was a good thing that normal injuries didn’t stick around as long as the being-a-Nation induced ones, but this one was being a pain.
“Strategy, yeah, great, but what if they hear us, what then?” America frowned, folding his arms. Mexico cut Canada free while his back was turned.
“They won’t hear us.” Wales assured them, then checked the room for Ireland. It seemed she’d either gone to the bathroom or was otherwise out of earshot. Semi-safe. “Their mole’s not in the room now.”
“Mole?” Echoed England. Wales watched a pieces slide together and the look of horror that crossed his brother’s face. “Oh, that sick bastard.”
“What? I don’t get it! Who’s the mole?” America flailed, ever unable to read the atmosphere.
“Oh!” Canada’s hands flew up to his mouth. “But how did he do that?”
Wales shook his head. “By gaining control of the information networks. We were sending information in, despite there being a block for it going out. The NWO, occupying his territory, could get to all the information they wanted.”
“They’ve set up camp in his head. He’s like some sort of observation camera-” Mexico looked revolted. “That’s- damn, that’s a good plan, but it’s low. I bet he doesn’t even know, and if he does he can’t say.”
“You… know what this means we’ll have to do, right?” England said, clenching his fists.
“No, I don’t! Someone tell me what’s going on!” demanded America. England heaved a sigh, face grave.
“Northern Ireland’s the mole, America. An unintentional one, but still, a spy.”
“He’s what?” cried Ireland, appearing in the doorway. She was holding a tea tray, white knuckled. Apparently, she’d heard everything.
“Now, Aine-” Wales started, but paused when he noticed Ireland didn’t look angry anymore but rather… resigned. Something clicked. “You suspected it too, didn’t you.”
She shook her head, lips a flat line. “No, but it fits. I just… god damn it.” The tea tray was set down a little harder than was necessary, but it was excusable. “And it means that we’ll have to…” she didn’t finish it. England did.
“Isolate him. By force, if needed. And to do that, we have to find him first.”
America considered this. “Why don’t we just wait? If he’s a mole, and he doesn’t know he’s a know or doesn’t know we know he’s a mole-” he paused, making sure he hadn’t got any double negatives in there. “then he’ll come back, right? To continue spying.”
Mexico stared at him. “Wow, you said something sensible. The world might end.” She wondered aloud. America flipped her off casually.
“Fine.” Said Ireland, sitting heavily in a chair and folding her arms, expression pinched. “We’ll wait.”
Waiting consisted mainly of Ireland pacing restlessly before Canada took pity and offered to show her the armory, England and America arguing over what their team name should be, and Wales and Mexico reviewing the battle plans for how they were going to save Israel from his neighbours.
"We could always come in from the Med, since Greece has offered his ports to us." Wales pondered. Mexico frowned.
"Sí, but Turkey's also probably keeping an eye out from that direction." she noted. "We'd need to get past his boats. I know his navy's not amazing, but we want this to be as easy as possible."
"Less lives lost the better." Wales agreed.
"League of Heros." America insisted in the background.
"That's copyrighted." England replied, eyebrows scrunched together as he checked already taken names on Wikipedia. "Oh for fuck's sake, Scotland's even vandalised my page."
"Oo, lemme see!"
"If we come in from the East, Saudi Arabia's going to get in the way majorly." Darren talked over them. "Even if we fly in, she'll see us and it won't be pretty."
"From the south, over Egypt?" Mexico suggested. Wales made a frustrated sound.
"That'd be bloody brilliant, yes, if he would just pick what side he's on." he sighed, running a hand through his hair, which was starting to get a little on the long side. "I get his situation is troublesome, but really, Israel needs backup and I'm not having my boys shot down when they're unprepared."
"Or mine." Mexico agreed. "It would be really helpful if India was actually fighting, since we could pincer them, but we can't force her into it."
"International Defense Association." England said abruptly. America scoffed.
"That's not catchy at all! You suck at this, Iggy."
"Well why don't you do better then!"
There was a light rapping sound on the window. Everyone froze in what they were doing, turning slowly to peer through the glass and into the early morning sunrise. A familiar shape, silhouetted against the morning glow, in slightly damp pajamas under a coat that probably belonged to Canada.
"Act normal." muttered England, lips barely moving, before speaking up. "Éibhear! Where the bloody hell have you been?!" the Brit was a good actor, if nothing else. He looked appropriately distressed as he marched outside and pulled Northern Ireland back into the warmth of the house, dragging him back into the room and sitting him in a chair, forcing a mug of hot tea into his hands. "Your sister has been worried sick about you, you're not well and this is no time to be running around in the Canadian country side!" he fussed. Éibhear looked sheepish.
"I'm sorry Art, I just woke up outside..." he did seem rather bewildered. Wales totaled this up to mean that Northern Ireland was unaware that he was being controlled. Good.
"Of all the times for you to develop sleep walking..." the Englishman grumbled. Aine skidded into the room, eyes immediately landing on her brother. She seemed to choke on air for a moment.
"Hi Aine." Éibhear said, looking mock terrified. "You're not going to hit me again, are you?"
Ireland shot a glance as England. He gave a tiny nod. She drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly.
"Ahh, please don’t hurt me?" Éibhear chuckled nervously, then he seemed to notice the face America had been making the entire time and paused. "Uh... Why does Alfred look constipated guys?"
Wales immediately cursed inwardly at America's over-honest face. The blonde had never been one to hide his emotions well. He was about to make something up when Mexico piped up. "He ate too many of my tacos. The real ones, with the proper spice, not his wimpy ones." she snarked at him. This only served to make the expression on Alfred's face worse. He bit his lip.
"Are they that bad?" Éibhear laughed, but his eyes didn't leave America's expression. The two seemed intent at not blinking at each other. A moment of awkward silence later, and England stomped on America's foot.
"Ow!!" he yelped, finally breaking eye contact to glare down at his former mentor. "What!?"
"Stop that." England hissed. Aine successfully distracted Northern Ireland while the others talked. "What part of act natural did you not understand?"
"But Iggy-"
"We don't want to give the game away so soon as this."
"England-!"
"And we still need to find a solution to break him out of it, and to find out what he did while he snuck out, because he wouldn't for no reason-"
"Arthur!" Alfred finally spoke over him, not bothering to keep his voice down, pointing at Northern Ireland. "How long have his eyes been purple, huh?!"
Everyone froze. Aine suddenly retracted her hands from where she'd been holding her brother's. The ends of his fingers were blue with cold, the rest of him ghostly pale. His face, shocked and wide eyed (and they were purple; a strange, vivid colour that clashed horribly with his red hair) slowly cracked, reshaping into a grin. Not his usual mischievous, warm smile, no. This grin could have been chipped out of solid ice. The room dropped a few degrees in temperature, not as much as when in Russia's undiluted presence, but noticeable. England gave an involuntary shiver.
"Oh, very good, America." it was still his voice, still his face, but by god if it didn't sound exactly like Russia. Ireland made an outraged sound at the back of her throat.
"Get out of his head, you frozen bastard!" she snarled at him, but didn't dare move to touch him, because it was still Northern Ireland's body. Still her brother.
"Nyet, it is quite comfortable, even if there is a lot of rain." he commented amicably. "It is still warmer than my house, and I much prefer this method of talking to my enemies. You cannot hurt me, da?" he chuckled, high and childish. Wales felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "I should really thank Latvia again for helping me perfect this technique so long ago."
"You son of a bitch!" America advanced, grabbing the front of Northern Ireland's shirt and lifting him slightly out of the chair. Russia giggled at him.
"Ahaha, I do so like that face on you, America." he nigh whispered. "But ah, now, what will you do? You cannot simply beat me up. What will the big hero do now?"
America grit his teeth, shoving the possessed man back into his chair. "Fine. Matt, do you still have that bit in the basement?" America muttered. Everyone looked to Canada, Mexico mumbling "when the hell-". Matthew nodded, expression worried.
"Alright, let me go find the key." and with that he fled the room.
"Hey, what bit?" asked Ireland, looking concerned, hovering near her brother, but out of arm's reach. America ignored her.
"María, help me grab him." Surprisingly, Mexico did as told, which only made Russia laugh more, only stopping when Wales stuffed a wadded up napkin in his mouth. Those violet eyes had a dangerous glint to them now. Mexico grabbed Northern Ireland's legs, America his arms.
Ireland started forwards. "Careful you idiots!"
Russia spat the napkin out of his mouth smiling at Ireland. Using North's smile no less. "I'm so glad you still care, Aine." Ireland made a disgusted sound.
"If you weren't fouling up my brother's body, I would hit you, you creepy motherfucker." she spat, following down the hall. North's smile twisted into something more like Russia's.
"Ah, and here I thought you might understand me."
"I told you before, I don't want anything to do with your plans, and you're also fecking insane."
"Your brother said that too."
Ireland nearly did hit him that time, Canada re-appearing just in time to catch her fist. "This way." he said softly, leading them down the stairs.
England sat down heavily in his chair, once they were out of sight, and buried his face in his hands. "Bloody Mary on a pogo stick."
"That's an interesting image." Wales said dryly. "America's surprisingly good at the whole leadership thing when need be, eh?"
“Don’t start.”
Notes:
- Try not to think too hard about how Russia's mind control thing works. You may summon Greece. Just remember the MST3K mantra (Warning! TVTropes will ruin your life and at the very least steal the next 5 hours from you.)
- Reason I'm so late? As though it wasn't obvious.
Part 20
