Some might say that war on the Korean peninsula was inevitable. The formula was perfect; you had two superpowers who would do anything and everything short of unleashing a nuclear apocalypse in order to outdo each other, two politically opposed countries with only a little line of latitude between them, and a man who really wanted to make sure there was only one Korea.
The sturdy oak door was heavy as North Korea pushed himself into Russia’s office. He greeted her plainly, voice terse and more impersonal than usual, and bowed with respect. “Good evening, Russia.”
She looked up from her papers and smiled at him. “I was not expecting you to be here so soon. What is troubling you, little bee?”
The bee then demanded with a burst of enthusiasm, “Let me liberate the south!”
North Korea wasn’t sure how China got injured. He just knew that when he first spotted him at the military base where they were meeting, China was on the ground.
“China?” North Korea called out, cautious at first to approach such a suspicious situation. When all he got was a groan in return, he ran over to his fallen comrade. “China! What happened? Did the United States do this to you?”
China, whose face had been more or less planted in the ground, looked up to squint at North Korea. “Why would he have anything to do with this?”
“No, I actually–” China was cut off by a sharp pain shooting through his hip. He gave up and brought a hand to his aching body. “It doesn’t matter.”
North Korea gasped. “China, when old people break their hip, they die.”
Historically, China and Russia have resisted the United Nations whenever it’s tried to mess with North Korea. According to America, this is because they’re both trying too hard to defend their “problem child.”
The trend started in 1950, where China condemned UN action during the Korean War. Decades later, Resolution 1718 rolled out in response to North Korea’s 2006 nuclear test. It called for a ban on imports and exports to the country. As it happens, China was much more lax in enforcing this than others. Amidst the Great Hacking Fiasco of 2014 (unofficial name), the Security Council held a briefing on the human rights crisis in North Korea. China was against this briefing from the start. In 2015, the Council faced a similar problem.
North Korea didn’t hate India and India liked that because it was really easy to get on the North’s bad side and less easy to get on his good side. North Korea had always applauded India’s nuclear ambitions, and, according to the Korean, he needed a nuke buddy to replace “poor, foolish Iran.” That’s why they were having drinks in New Delhi.
Nobody was sure how it’d gotten to that point. Earlier they were having a Six-Party Talk meeting about North Korea’s nuclear program. After that, they were sitting down together for a fancy delegation dinner. Then out of nowhere North Korea erupts (quietly, for a change), starting an argument with China that had everyone feeling painfully uncomfortable.
It started with an innocuous comment from South Korea about the chilly, but bearable, weather in Seoul, to which China agreed. To which North Korea muttered quietly, “You would be familiar with the weather in Seoul. You travel there so often.”
There were more little mutterings from him, and he exhibited incredible skillfulness at turning any little comment into a reason to be salty. Each time, China would insist–or plea, depending on how you look at it–that they “not do this here” and try to change the subject. Of course, North Korea never liked being ignored.
News of North Korea’s hydrogen bomb test spread quickly through seismic waves and news channels. An emergency meeting was called between those freaking out the most.
They’d gathered in the Security Council chamber at the United Nations, mostly because it was the room with the coolest table. Sitting together, they’d been debating for almost twenty minutes but the conversation wasn’t going anywhere and things were getting a little heated.
Naturally, America was the first to stir the pot. “This is all Russia’s fault. She made this monster.”
Japan and the United States retreated to an empty conference room after a meeting with China over territorial disputes turned into a diplomatic kerfuffle.
America was already on Twitter about to defend Japan’s honor (i.e., trash talk) when she spoke first, her usually impassive voice tainted by edge. “Unbelievable.” She paced with a furrowed brow. “You can’t tell because I’m suppressing my desire to outwardly express my anger, but I’m furious. In fact, I’m so upset that I want to jump up on the desks and throw things.”
“I got you,” America said, already in the process of climbing onto the desk in front of him.
Anyone lucky enough to walk in on them would have to wonder why Japan was going through breathing exercises in the corner while America made bestial sounds of fury as he lifted chairs over his head and chucked them across the room.