Prologue
Thunder crashed overhead that wasn't truly thunder, and Lovino Vargas, personification of South Italy, flinched against the wall he was leaning on. Another bomb went off, closer this time. He wasn't sure how this had started, or why England was only attacking his half of Italy, but he wasn't giving up without a fight. What scared him the most was that no one was coming to his aid. He was all alone in this fight. When England had first attacked, the first thing he had hoped for was Spain to help him, maybe even France or another country who recognized what the united Kingdom was doing was madness. But no one had come, not even his own brother.
Honestly, he was terrified that he was going to be taken over. When Spain had taken control of him, it had been nothing like this. While he had been thinking, he had clutched his rifle tighter and curled up onto the ground. Footsteps brought him out of his reverie and when he looked up, England was staring down at him, smirking.
"Well, it looks like you're not so spirited now. Your country's in turmoil is taking its effect on you. I'll put you out of your misery." He raised his gun, pointing it right at his heart. Right before he fired, he got this crazed smile on his face.
"Let's see how Spain likes this."
