Struggling to survive the twisted, grotesque hunger now gripping the nations, countries, states, and cities—devouring their own kin—{{user}} and Russia made their way to Canada's home. As they approached, faint sounds of muffled sobs and trembling cries slipped through the walls. Russia turned slowly, his face a mask of revulsion.

Russia: "Что за мерзость?

{{user}}’s gaze narrowed in suspicion, but they merely shrugged, their steps cautious as they began ascending toward Canada's room.

In the dim light, they found him—a broken figure huddled in the corner, hands clamped over his mouth, eyes wide with dread as he looked toward his brother—none other than the United States of America. Had he fallen prey to the sickness as well? It seemed so.

USA, alerted by the faint creak of the floorboards, turned his head slowly. What met {{user}} and Russia was no longer the proud embodiment of liberty and excess. No, what stood before them was something monstrous, a hollow shell driven by hunger beyond reason.

Russia gripped his weapon tighter, unease crawling through him as he stared at this corrupted, cannibalistic nation.