The breeze was lingering in the mountainous landscape. Despite being spring, nights were still pretty chilly in northern Italy. The weather would be magnificent if there wasn't this obnoxious crackling sound of gunfire around but still, the moon up there was beautiful. It was like I could hear Debussy's Clair de Lune notes…

"Marco, schneller!" pouted the german soldier. He knew the guy hated his guts. He was Italian and he was a traitor since they surrendered to the allies in 1943. No purpose on crying over spilt milk, no?

He knew the end of the war was near and so was his life. There's no turning back. How could anyone return home after such experience?

"Marco, if You don't move your ass, the war will be over when we'll get back to base!"

"Gimme a break Hans, we marched all day long…"

Hans sighed, took a seat on the ground and lighted a cigarette. He was a jerk, but Marco was sure his feet ached as much as his. How could He still have the will to fight after He heard his home was razed to the ground by American bombers? What about his wife?

A little buzzing sound interrupted his train of thought. What could it be? Marco squinted his eyes to locate the source of disturbance, but nothing appeared in its sight. The sound was intensifying by the moments but still he couldn't see anything.

Oh fuck, a night bomber! "Hans put your cigarette…" A big explosion hit him and all the world became black.

Chirping sound. Marco slowed regained consciousness, but it was impossible to see anything with the light hurting his eyes. Wait a moment, light? How many hours have passed? Oh fuck, where's Hans? The german soldier was nowhere to be seen. He must have left him behind after the bomb fell.

Well, fuck you too Hans!

Marco grabbed his dirty rifle from the ground and started marching back to base.

The kraut is better to be dead when I come back or I'll beat him up good. Well, first I have to actually get back, where the fuck am I?

The forest was pretty different from the day before.

Did the trees move overnight?

His confusion was replaced by panic when he heard rustling noises and voices. He rushed behind a tree and readied his gun. He was a shitty shot back in boot camp, but He would go down fighting at least.

He was surprised to see that the source of noise were actually teenage girls. They were happily strolling around. They weren't talking italian nor some kind od dialect. They were talking… in english?

He watched better. One was a small brunette in a red cloak while the other was taller with silky white hair and both were armed.

Are the brits that desperate to resort to kids now? Well fuck it, war is war. I wont bite the dust due to some kid.

He emptied the lungs and aligned the sights on the targets. TA-CLACK!

That metal sound behind him. It meant he was fubar

Here goes my valiant last stand.

He quickly turned to grab his enemy weapon only to find his hands on a gauntlet. A gauntlet wore by a blond teenager.

Eh? What is this?

A strong punch sent him flying like a brick against a tree and the world became black once again.

I hope this story wont be too boring or unreadable. Unluckily I'm not an English native speaker so my spelling and wording might be a little bit shitty lol