Chapter 1
The time was World War II and Italy was in a trap. He had been following Germany to take over Spain or Portugal when they were surrounded. Germany had his pistol out and was aiming it at France, who was good friends with Spain, while France had his sword at Germany's throat. Italy started waving his white flag when he heard a bullet whiz right by his hair curl and become stuck in Germany's right shoulder. He screamed as Britain stepped out of the shadows with a still-smoking gun. Italy started untying the handkerchief from his makeshift white flag.
"Ha, see England, we didn't even need that muet garçon America," France said with his French accent. Britain had a rope in his hand and started to Italy's hands, then Germany's hands, together in silence. France started insulting Germany in French while he just watched in silence his blood flow out of his wound and into a puddle on the grass. Italy's bandage wasn't very good. He then heard a small bird's chirp then saw another bullet fly out of the shadows and pierce through France's hair.
"Britain!" France yelled and Britain looked up. Another bullet just missed Britain's head and both Allies' faces became filled with fear.
"What the bloody hell! France, retreat!" Britain yelled as he himself ran into the woods. France looked back at Germany and Italy, stuck out his tongue, and then ran after Britain.
A black-cloaked figure emerged from the edges of the forest, making Italy grab Germany's arm to protect himself. The person walked up to the Axis countries, bent down, and started to fix Germany's wound. They worked quickly and accurately, almost the exact opposite of Italy. Italy just let the stranger fix Germany and watched them work.
After the figure finished, their hooded-head turned toward Italy, and then they disappeared. Germany was unconscious so Italy decided that they would camp here. He started a fire after a couple of tries, filled an iron pot with close river water, and then started boiling the water for pasta. Italy looked over at the sleeping Germany and smiled while pouring the stiff linguine into the now-bubbling water.
"Why is it that he's only a-cute when's he's a-sleeping? Why a-can't he be this a-cute when he's a-wake?" Italy thought with a smile, "He's always a-yelling at me when I a-do something a-wrong. Oh a-well, he's a-cute even then!"