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Italy was a timid, shy little country, though he was one of the oldest out there, many saw him as unless and an easy target. No one had every seen him at night.
He, Feliciano Vargas, or Italy to all but his brother. Was getting ready for his daily lookout, he stripped from his overly puffy uniform, that he him self hated to wear but had to, for his 'image'. He grabbed a wine red silk top, buttoned all but the top three and threw over on top a black tuxedo jacket, he left that open. His pants were also black, a nice material, that was thick enough to keep him warm but not able to over heat himself, the pants also were great for soaking up the blood was usually splattered all over him.
He pocketed his Jericho 941 F, sent a prayer to Mother Mary, and Jesus, to save the souls that he would end that night.
He took the normal route, keeping his stride long and carefree, looking around him for trouble and gangs. There would be no gangs in Italy under his watchful eyes. He pocketed his hands into the deep pockets of his pants, his right hand fingering his gun, running his finger over the cold metal frame smiling.
The light from the lamp-posts hit his eyes, making them glow an eerie golden, they were still glowing even as he left the light of the lamp-post. His stride kicked up a notch as he heard sounds coming from the end of a dead-end pathway.
There were two boys, fighting both had dark hair and dark eyes, with a curl on each of there heads.
"Che cosa sta succedendo qui?" Feliciano asked as he slowly pulled out his gun, the shining silver metal glinting in the shadows.
"Oh, merda! " One of the boys yelled the one on the right with a swollen lip and black eye.
"Cazzo. Non vederti lì capo ..." The one on the right said, raising his hands as of to say sorry.
Feliciano looked at both of them, nodded to understand, then smirked. His smile was dark, while he eyes glowed. He aimed his gun at the two boys, that were already covered in blood from there own sins.
"Arrivederci, e hanno un viaggio sicuro." Feliciano said, in a strong voice that seemed to sink into the dark shadows that grew in the pathway, he shot, the sound of a gun firing twice rang sharp into the nights crisp air. Blood fell on Felicianos' face, his licked it off and laughed.
"I wonder how I should greet Germany tomorrow?" He whispered to himself, his gaze drifted to his gun, now coated in blood, and smiled that cruel Italian smile. He walked home a slight skip in his step, his Fratello was already home, he too was cleaning the blood from both his face and guns. Their eyes met, and they both smirked. Ah yes, morning was near.
"Vee~"
Well, we hope you all enjoyed this chapter, because there's more of this to come. There's a link at the top because each chapter is based on a picture. Which is the reason we're writing this. We need more pictures to write by, so we would like to ask you readers out there if you can send us links to the pictures via PM or in your reviews. Thank you for reading, we hope you continue to do so. P.S. If you want to look at the picture, the link is up top. Just remove the spaces when you copy and paste it into the search bar.