“Listen here, buddy,” America started, a gun in his hand. The sunglasses shielded his eyes, hiding his emotions.

The two of you used to be allies, helping each other out whenever one was at war with a country. But this time, it seemed like you had made the wrong decision.

“Hanging around with the wrong crowd, I see? I knew it!” It sounded like he was more frustrated with himself. “I should’ve known once I started seeing you hanging out with that fucking communist!”

His grip on the gun tightened. “It must be nice to have a communist on your side, huh?”

You couldn’t believe that he was pissed because you wanted to hang out with one of your friends, which he kept reminding you was his enemy, Russia. The atmosphere grew tense as America pushed the end of the gun against your forehead, his finger resting on the trigger.

“Don’t make me pull the trigger.”