Team Louisiana: Missing.
When America thought New York couldn't get any paler, he was proven wrong. New York's eyes burned as the tears finally flooded his vision. Alfred's phone started to go off on flooding reports, even the two phones in Germany's pocket.
"Hey, James. This doesn't mean he's gone, just missing," Alfred tried to comfort.
"Oh yeah, sure! Just like War World 2!" James yelled, he gripped his greasy hair and let out a sob that's been pushing at his chest for weeks now. Germany flinch of the mention of the certain war, but cleared his throat.
"Doesn't the rules for countries, follow the states?" He asked.
"I don't know about d-..." America started, but glanced at New York. "They aren't born like countries," America started to explain.
The year was 1920, and 4 million Italians were traveling to America. Piero Rocci stood on American soil as he watched in awed by workers being so brave to build these tall buildings. No safety rope or helmets. This was truly the country to start over, and have a second chance in life. Piero marched his way to the construction office and handed his papers to the man in charged. The older man stared at Piero and looked at his papers.
"A new immgrant, huh? New name is James Jones?" The man asked. Piero nodded quickly.
"Si, sir. My home country is Italy, very nice place, but-..." The poor Italian man couldn't finish as his new boss yelled at him to to work. Piero felt guilty for lying to his boss, but he couldn't say he's been here since the Civil War , when he first immgrated here. Piero was still having a hard time adjusting to his new life. He had became a state, he was still unsure how becoming immoral by being shot in the chest happened, but it did. He also had a hard time adjusting to the city life. Everyone seemed so rude, and loud. It scared him greatly, but he refused to run away from every snotty person he meets. If he wants to survive this city, he has to play the game.
As Piero, er James.. He has to get use to his new American name. Anyway, he was currently hammering in nails on a skyscraper, he was 10 levels up from the ground. James looked up at the sky, and wiped his forehead with the back of his glove. The summer was just as hot as the battle of Irish Bend in Louisiana. James grunted in pain as his chest burned in memory of the battle.
A cute soldier scared him half to death, by shooting him in the chest. James remembered fading in and out of reality as the boy sobbed into his chest. He was speaking so fast in French and Spanish, it took James a while to realize he was apologizing for shooting him. He also remembers being dragged back to the Union camp.
