The Siege of Latin America
May 2055.
"I will not stand such atrocity." She said as she stared at the silhouette sitting at the other end of the room. Her hands were pressed hair against the table. Her body leaned forward, ready to attack.
"Tear down the wall!" She demanded.
The one standing in front of her merely smiled. His eyes gave an air of sobriety and cruelty that she had never seen before. Argentina stood up. He was dressed in the finest of suits, his blonde hair perfectly combed. He stared her down, as though he could measure her every move.
"Now why would I do that when I could have everything I wanted?" He spoke merely shrugging.
Mexico's whole body felt like it was burning. Her contempt made her blood boil with rage. There was barely anything that prevented her from tackling the fellow nation to the ground. She was barely stable, barely held together. The only thing that managed to keep her on her feet was the last drop of civility.
"I said, tear down the wall." She repeated through gritted teeth.
Argentina shook his head, bored. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, as though asking for guidance through such difficult times.
"I have no desire to defend myself. I should not defend myself for winning a fair war. This war against terrorism was a fair war. However, I am questioned for winning a fair war."* His smile faded into a look of regret, but not regret for his actions. Argentina looked disappointed, for the other nations failed to recognize the great sacrifice he had done for them.
(*Emilio Massera, during trials at the end of the military dictatorship in Argentina.)
"What exactly was terrorism to you?" Mexico spoke up again.
"Oh dear, answer to me first. Has there been violence in your country? What about corruption? Explain to me, word for word, what happened to your drug cartels?"
Mexico stood silent for the first time since the meeting had begun. She could not find a way around his question. She could not find a fault in his words. Sometimes the simplest of questions are the hardest to answer.
She did not want to admit that he was right. There was no violence in her country. People worked relentlessly and mass production of weapons was being distributed alongside the continent. But there was a wall that surrounded her. The wall kept the boats on one side and the people in the other. The wall kept her isolated from the rest of the Western World.
She would not tolerate to be oppressed by a foreigner.
"Tear down the wall."
Argentina sighed once more. He was getting impatient with her lack of cooperation. He looked around the oval table. He stood as the head of an empire. The nations around him were no longer nations but districts that he governed. He stared at their faces. Some of them looked down avoiding his gaze. Others stared right back with the same look of disgust and contempt that Mexico had.
He could paint their faces with something more suitable.
Regardless of how they felt they still had to answer to him. Oh cruel outcome of fate.
All of the nations sitting on such room had once belonged to someone else. No one knew how it felt to be owned but them. No one knew how desperate one could become for freedom. No one really understood, but them.
They had all been a part of the Spanish Empire.
Argentina, Paraguay and Uruguay had been part of the Viceroyalty of the Río de la Plata for thirty-five years.
Panama, Colombia, Ecuador, Venezuela and Guyana had been part of the Viceroyalty of New Granada for eighty years.
Peru, Bolivia, and Chile had been part of the Viceroyalty of Peru for 282 years.
And Mexico had become the Viceroyalty of New Spain for 300 years. Eleven years to acquire independence.
There's a difference between thirty-five and three hundred.
And in that difference Mexico knew that Argentina could never understand her desire for freedom. He couldn't possibly reason her desperation to be her own country. He couldn't do this. He couldn't place a leash around her neck and demand authority. She was older than him. She would not allow it.
Except it is much harder to break the leash off than to prevent it from happening in the first place and Mexico had failed in both attempts. She was already part of his domain, they both knew it, and it made her so angry.
Her chocolate brown eyes stared directly into his. She frowned, looked intently. She was daring him, provoking him. Whether this was a wise approach of not she could not care less.
"Tear down the wall!"
"No!" Argentina said firmly. Every trace of amusement in his face had faded. There was barely a hint of emotion. His frown was more intense than Mexico's. He wanted to make her understand that his word was law. He wanted to scare her. People tend to obey when they are frightened.
Mexico was about to react, when he pulled his gun out and pulled the trigger. Those seconds, in between the movement and the bullet coming out of his gun, she looked at him with pity more than anything. Argentina was egotistical, conceited, and had a tendency to show off, but he was still her cousin. He was still like a brother in their Latin family. Family.
But he had betrayed them.
And family is one of the worst bonds to break.
Naturally it wasn't all about the wall, it was about pain and hurting, and feeling let down by the people who swore would never do it.
She looked at him with pity, and then she fell to her knees.
The rest of the nations stood up astonished. No one had thought that this could happen. A small tear fell from her eyes. She could feel the bullet so close to her heart, almost brushing against it. A shot like this would've killed a human, but nations couldn't be killed. Mexico knew it and Argentina knew it. So he didn't really want to kill her, just teach her a lesson.
She closed her eyes. The pain was there, but it remained like a memory at the back of her mind.
"Oh Lord, forgive me. I have let my people down. In this battle of power, I have let the innocent fall. Help me with the strength to overcome this. Do not let the enemy walk. It is not my fault but his. It is his land but mine. The wall will come down."
