[Ever since the flood of distressed and appalled calls began Christmas morning, Germany threw aside the
psychological warfare he found under the Christmas tree at his own home and took to the streets, checking in on many of his friends in person. One of them hadn't answered their phone when he'd picked up their public call
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she has no words for what she has found]
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...? Did you receive a strange gift from Mayfield's Santa as well, Liechtenstein? Your face looks like you've seen a phantom.
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Ah-- My apologies. I'm so distracted, with all these strange "Christmas gifts" being revealed everywhere. Use the kitchen if you wish, just remember to clean up after any messes, if you would, please.
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[The car, he can't tell whose it is. The form on his front porch... Rushing forward, Germany ignores how familiar the hair looks, many other people have silver hair in Mayfield. Many others. This is just another unfortunate victim to--]
Bru... Bruder. BRUDER, OY! BRUDER! BRUDER, NO, H-HANG IN THERE, OY!! BRUDER, CAN YOU HEAR ME?! BRUDER! [Panicked wailing as he stumbles and collapses to his knees next to Prussia, pulling him up and looking into his face. How long has he been here. Whose blood is that. Where had he been.]
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Germany. Thank fucking god. [The gun clatters to the ground as Prussia clumsily pats his brother down, looking for injuries.] You okay? Town try to pull any shit on you? Where the hell have you been?
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