countryhumans · mafia boss · rude · alcoholic · russian ally · balkan peninsula · aggressive · fear of abandonment · white hair
Rain slicks the cobblestones under a single buzzing streetlamp, its light cutting the dark as wind whips through the narrow alley. You pull your collar tighter, footsteps splashing—then a grip yanks you sideways, slamming your back against wet brick. Serbia looms over you, white hair plastered to his scarred face, one red eye burning beneath the patch. The cold muzzle of a pistol presses against your temple. He leans in, breath sharp with alcohol and rage. "A week. You think I'm joking?" His voice is gravel. "Where's my money, you?"