Hetalia ~ Fall of the Third Reich

Ludwig Beilschmidt, Germany, double-checked to make sure the two pistols at his hips were still there. Check. He slung his AK-47, which he acquired illegally some time ago, over his shoulder. Check. The only thing left to do was watch the Third Reich come tumbling down like a pile of children's blocks. He smirked as he descended several steps into the Führerbunker.

Hitler's private little bunker. How cute.

Adolf jumped to his feet as Germany strode into the room. The nation felt adrenaline, spurred by anger, surge through his taut muscles as he drank in the sight of his boss before him. The Führer's new wife, Eva, stayed reclined on the couch, heavy lidded as she looked up at the country.

"I told you to stay above ground," Adolf growled. "What are you doing here?"

Germany resisted the urge to put his hand on one of the pistols at his hip. Instead, he took a deep breath and glared down at his boss. His mind raced as he tried to put his complex thoughts into words.

"You would like me to stay above ground with everybody else, watch them die?" he asked smoothly, walking past Adolf and gulping down the remnant of a partially empty glass of champagne. "Not that I would mind. I simply think it's pathetic that you're relaxing here in your cute little Führerbunker."

The Führer opened his mouth to say something, but Germany pressed on.

"Do the Soviets scare you? They've taken Poland now. Stalin's ripped it out of your grasp after you broke your promise to split it with him."

"What-" Eva began as she stood up.

"Sit down!" barked Adolf, motioning for her to take her place at the couch again. "Why are you here, Germany? What do you want?"

He decided it was time. He shrugged the AK-47 off his shoulder and held it in his arms.

"A Soviet weapon?"

Germany nodded. "I made a deal with Russia for it. But that's beside the point." He stepped closer to his boss, the tip of the gun at his heart. "You're going to kill yourself, Führer." He spat out the last word. "I'm done putting up with this. With you. You're a maniac. You promised me a new world. A fair world. 6 million Jewish corpses isn't a fair world."

Adolf's eyes darkened, and he clenched his jaw.

"I know you have your pistol on you. You always do. Take it out," the country said. He pushed the Führer onto the couch. "Now."

He glanced at his wife before taking out the weapon.

"I know you probably were going to kill yourself anyway. But I want to be the one to make sure it happens. You're too scared of seeing your precious Third Reich fall. But Hitler, it's falling. It's tumbling down. The Allies are going to win. You're going to lose, and I'm going to get to see your brains on the floor."

At this point Eva had begun to cry. Silently, she covered her face as her body slowly rocked back and forth.

Germany shook his head. "Am I scary? Do I frighten you? You should be scared of your husband. Of the thousands of soldiers outside who can't wait to rip you apart."
"Making me kill myself won't change anything. You'll still have to pay," Adolf snarled. "The rest of the world will see you as a monster."

"Hopefully they'll learn to separate my name from yours," Germany replied curtly. "But if they don't, it doesn't matter. I won't let you push me or the rest of the world around anymore."
He took the swastika armband off and let it fall to the floor.

"I hope your pistol has enough ammo. It might take a couple bullets to get through your thick skull."

The Führer held up his pistol to his head, cocking it at the same time.
Germany felt a surge of satisfaction. He smiled. It was a maniacal grin, but it was a smile nonetheless. "Now pull the trigger, Hitler. Pull it. Do it." He bit his lip to keep more words from spilling out of his mouth.

Adolf lowered the pistol. He shook his head. "I won't do it."

Germany threw the AK-47 to the ground as he grabbed Hitler's arm and held his pistol up to his head again.

The Führer smirked. "Why don't you just kill me? People might even think you're a hero for killing the big bad Hitler."

"I'm not a hero."

Adolf laughed. "Oh?"

"I'm your war machine. I was. But not anymore." He increased his grip on his boss's wrist as he pressed the tip of the pistol against his skull. He put his finger over Hitler's. "Give Satan my best, will you, Führer?"

His boss's eyes did not waver. "Why don't you do it yourself when you meet him?"
A deafening bang echoed off the walls, and Germany's ears rang for a few seconds. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them he saw Adolf Hitler's dead body slumped against the couch, blood leaking out of the side of his skull and the gun still in his hand. Good. It would look like a classic suicide case.

Eva screamed, shying away from Germany and the dead body. He ignored her. He let the corpse's blood wash over his hands.

The Führer's blood was on his hands.

And by God did it feel good.