Chap. 1 Fears of the Past
"Pavia, I'm hungry!" Milan complained as she and Pavia trudged down the gloomy, french streets. Pavia glared at her and put her hand to her mouth," SHHH."
Pavia scanned the area and turned to Milan. "Stop complaining, will ya?" she whispered," With that loud mouth of yours, you can get us caught in two seconds."
Milan glared at Pavia, but she knew it was true. The streets were unnaturally quiet, so any sound can travel across town and alert the enemies. The blood-red sky didn't offer any birds and insects to cover up their voices.
It was evening in Paris, France, around 6 pm. Usually, the sidewalks would be bustling with tourists and employees, scrambling here and there. Today, the streets are barren and silent. The stores and companies stood at the sides of the street, silently watching the province and city. The residents seem to had disappear because there were almost no sign of life. After all, it was because of the expansion of the Italian Empire.
The whole thing started when Italy "snapped" and began rebelling and killing other countries. From sorella Lombardy's thoughts, she hypothesized that it was the "Roman Empire" genetics that was inherited from the Rome Empire. She had told Pavia and Milan that it was the reason why past countries had wanted those genetics; with them, any country could use Italy to expand their lands. Those genetics were extremely dangerous, so that is also the reason why Great-Grandpa Rome wanted to keep Romano and Italy safe from harm.
Now Italy's genetics had kicked in by itself and there was only one thing the genetics could succeed now; spreading the empire. Normal empires would usually occupy an area, but this empire seems to be an exception. This empire is expanding across the world. It had already taken over Japan, Spain, Austria, and Belgium. They had conquered countless areas of Europe and Asia. Now they are currently trying to cross the oceans to invade Africa and America or maybe Australia. This had proved one point; the Italian Empire won't rest till it had taken over the world.
Right now, [The Province of] Pavia and Milan are scouting Paris. Italy's orders given to them were to find Paris and shoot him. Thats tough, because that stupid mime can be anywhere. she had met him before and she didn't really get along with him. He acts so...damn stupid.
"Questo è stupido," Milan's voice rumbled inside her throat," Out of all the people I can be paired up with, why is it you?"
"Because," Pavia whispered," Fratello knew we were enemies in his seperation. Enemies fight hard with enemies. We can fight our enemies harder because looking at each other will flare up our anger...and strength."
"I can still fight hard without you," Milan hissed softly,"Fratello o il comandante, he is still as stupid as he was to pair me up with you."
"Non sottovalutare il nostro fratello," Pavia replied," you don't want to be like the last guy who opposed him. You still remember that incident, ti?"
Milan shuddered. Of course she remembered the incident. It happened back in Italy's office, before Pavia, Milan, and Lombardy were assigned to be soldiers. Before they were stuck in stupid Paris. Back then, they were maids. They stood at the left side of the office, waiting for an order or mess. There they stood, in their black and blood-red dresses, when the incident happened. Italy sat cross-legged on his chair when an italian city knocked on the door.
"Chi è?" Italy's voice disassembled into two sounds, one was his normal voice and the other was a deeper, menacing voice," who is it?"
"Modena," the knocker replied," Posso entrare. Can I come in?"
"Si."
Italy signaled Pavia and Milan to open the double doors. They walked to the doors and swung it open, revealing an italian boy. He was a young boy with a choppy hair style, olive skin, and amber eyes. He wore an italian uniform, although he seems too young to be in the army. He walked to Italy's desk in a respective style.
He bowed down. "Ciao il vostro onore," he said and stood up straight," I came just to ask you a question."
Italy raised his eyebrows. "A question?" He asked coldly,"Che tipo di domanda? What kind of question?"
Modena looked down to his dress shoes. "It's about the whole 'conquering the world' idea," he said quietly," I don't think it is a good idea."
Italy looked unimpressed. "Perché no?" he asked," why not? Is there something wrong, bambino?"
"Niente affatto!" He cried as he fixed his face to Italy's," It's just that...it is kinda cruel, don't you think?"
"No, I think it is perfectly fine," Italy's obscured voice transformed into a low, growling sound," What is so cruel about it, bambino?"
"I-it just that..," Modena stammered, sensing the room slowing turning into a death zone," y-you are killing countries for their land. Can't you just keep them captive and then take over their land. You could spare Amer-"
He was cutted short when he saw the gun muzzle pointed at his forehead. Italy held the rifle, index finger on the trigger. Lombardy, Milan, and Pavia were horrified. Modena's forehead were beaded with sweat, while Italy's face was fixed into a bored expression. "Go on," he purred.
But there was an undertone following, with the right words. Milan saw this before in an italian mafia movie. When the boss says "Go on", the speaker has to change his words around so the gun muzzle would be averted. If he doesn't pick the right words, things would get ugly. Very ugly. Hopefully, this boy has the right words to say.
But he didn't. The three maids sat in horror as the boy continued falling into his death sentence," -ica. Solo lui. Just him! Then you can kill the othe-"
Bam!
Blood soared through the air from the boy's forehead as he fell. Blood splattered all over the black carpet as the young boy squirmed from the pain. It wasn't possible but Modena survived a headshot! "Monstro!" he screeched," You are a monster..."
The boy's chest frozed. His eyes rolled over as the blood sprouting from his head died down. It was silent. No more swearing. No more cussing. No more screaming.
Modena is dead.
"Oh dio mio...," Pavia muttered under her breath. The body laid smack in the middle of the room, blood surrounding like a barrier. Italy calmly reloaded his rifle and setted it aside. Then he turned to the horrified maids and snapped his fingers. "Hey!" He ordered,"Ripulire per favore."
The three girls rushed to the body, pushing it aside to clean the blood stains. Lombardy slid the body out of the carpet as Pavia and Milan washed the stains.
"Oh and girls," Italy said, his eyes had a hungry look in it," when you throw the body out, don't try to hide it from other soldiers. I want everyone to take notice of this...incident."
"Sì, Signore," the girls answered quietly. Then Milan opened the doors as Pavia and Lombardy carried the body outside, to the hallways. The other italian regions and stared at the two maids carrying a body. Occassionally, a soldier would ask what happened. After explaining to some people, they finally reached the dump. They threw the body inside and cleaned their hands in the girls room. Milan couldn't believe it! Italy, once the most peaceful country, had killed of his own brethens! She shook at the thoughts, scared of what would happen next.
Milan shook back to reality. They were not in Italy's base anymore. They were in Paris. Stupid Paris. Milan looked at Pavia, who is staring out from a wall. "Hey Pa-," she started to talk when Pavia covered her mouth. "SHHH."
Milan pushed the hand aside. "What is it?" She whispered angrily.
Pavia pointed to a nearby building. There stood the least person Milan ever wanted to see.
Paris.
