Russia's POV
It was another world conference that'd solved nothing. I was driving back to my hotel with some take-out. My flight back to Moscow was tomorrow morning, so I decided to try some of the traditional food here. This year, the conference was being held by the Italians, who choose to hold it in Rome. Rome was one of my favorite places in Italy. He might be a pathetic country, but his people were rich with culture, especially about the great Rome himself. I am on my way to becoming just as great as he was, possibly greater, so I wanted to make sure I wasn't going to make the same mistakes he did. I was so emerged in my thoughts that I didn't even realize that I'd reached my hotel. I parked the rental, grabbed my dinner, and walked inside.
"Good evening, Master Russia," The Italian at the desk called, his voice shaking. I nodded and walked to the elevator. I got inside and the machine soared up to the top floor. The elevator doors opened and I stepped out. I sighed as I walked down the corridor to my room. It had been a long day and I couldn't wait to eat, take a shower, and have some shots of vodka. For a minute, I paused by a window to overlook the city of Rome. The lights shined as I looked at all of the new buildings that somehow fit in perfectly with the older ones. My feet carried me to my door and I took out my key and unlocked it. I strolled inside and for the first time today, let myself relax. Then, something hit the back of my head and everything went black