.oOo.
It just hurts that Andrea couldn't have been both.
.oOo.
Andrea Gamper, 12, Iberian Female
She's punching a large bag filled with sawdust and who knows what else they had decided to fill it up with, strung up to the ceiling for the purpose of kids who want to prepare for the competition that Fuhrer Schnee has proposed. Only Spain - no, Iberia has been officially allowed to let their children train for the competition that he had announced a month or so ago, under the clause that they had been loyal to the side of the Germans after remaining neutral for the majority of the war.
Italy had been given the same treatment by the Germans, although Andrea doubts that the two regions are the only ones preparing for the competition. Who wouldn't want to prepare for something like this, getting as many children ready in case it's their name that's announced at the meeting?
As soon as her parents had heard the news from Germany that they would be sending two children from Portugal and Spain to Berlin to fight to the death, they enrolled the Gamper siblings into the freshly built training centre. It's small but filled with many kids, all getting some aggression out and learning how to fight in their free time after school.
"Andrea, do you want to practice working with knives?" Another girl from across the room waves at Andrea, giving her a warm smile. "I'm always so clumsy with them, and you always know how to throw them the right way."
Andrea hurries over, swinging her arms back and forth to loosen them up before taking one of the knives. "You've got to hold it like this, so it can fit in between your fingers. It's kind of like throwing a ball, but you have to gauge the distance to decide how much force you want to put into it. Too much force, and you're going to end up throwing the blunt edge into the wall."
"Sounds good!" The girl misses with her first throw, but re-evaluates the distance and tries again. The second knife does hit the target, lodging itself into the outer limits of the paper circle. The two girls clap for one another and grab the knife out of the wall, grinning proudly. It feels good to get it right.
"Thanks, Andrea! I know you're always so precise at school - you're really good with this sort of thing. Most of the girls are, actually, I guess it's just something in our blood or whatnot." The girl gives Andrea a quick hug before starting to throw again, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
Andrea winces. Of course the girl can't be expected to know what had happened a few months ago - Andrea would die if anyone at the new school found out about what she had told her ex-friend - but it still can sting to be roped in with the other girls. She could blame it on her parents for all of the stress that they had caused her, but that would be unfair. When they discovered that their second child was intersex, they decided that she would take the role of a girl to match their son and labelled that on her birth certificate. But they would have been stressed and worried about Andrea, and the decision was reasonable.
It just hurts that Andrea couldn't have been both.
She clears her thoughts and goes back to the punching bag, folding her fists into the correct position before starting again. After hurting her thumb after punching too hard, she makes sure to keep it on the outside of her fist. If she punches hard enough in the other position for fist fighting, she could end up breaking it.
After a fruitful session of punching, in which Andrea manages to leave a satisfying dent in the punching bag, she steps away from the bag and towards her brother. Sergi is busy fighting with another boy at the other end of the gym that they're all working in, clashing a blunted sword with the sword of the other boy. Most of the boys in the training centre like to use big and violent weapons, fighting and wrestling with one another in the gym to train for the competition. If they didn't have the gym, they would likely continue their wrestling and fights outside. For them, it's enjoyable and a way to prove their superiority - as long as they win.
Andrea enjoys wrestling as well. Whenever it's acceptable for the girls to practice wrestling, she's able to trounce the others of her age in the gym. Some of them view her in admiration, telling her that she's 'strong… for a girl.' Andrea struggles not to scoff at them whenever someone says something of the sort, but she's always careful to remain as feminine as possible. If she's too masculine, the same thing might happen again at this school.
Andrea doesn't know if she could bear switching schools for a second time.
Sergi manages to knock the other boy's sword onto the floor with a well-aimed stroke with his sword and laughs as his opponent puts up both hands in defeat. "Told you that it's hard to beat me. Oh, Andrea! Fancy a go with one of the guys over here?" Sergi knows Andrea's secret, of course. It's hard to hide things like that when they took baths together as babies. He doesn't mind it, and often gives Andrea the opportunity to play with some other guys by hiding it behind the pretence of dragging along his kid sister to events.
But he always, always, always forgets her fear of fighting.
"Um, no thank you," Andrea manages to squeak out before taking a spot along the wall. She hates fighting with other people when it means that she could hurt them - when she wrestles, she only pins the other person down rather than hurting them, and she could never dream of boxing. She hates the thought of hurting another person, of making them bleed or cry from the pain that she caused. So she shies away whenever the other kids fight at school, calling for them to stop and looking for a teacher to break up the fight.
She likes it better that way.
.oOo.
Pio isn't the type of person to forget who has his back.
.oOo.
Pablo Silva, 18, Iberian Male
He's resting in one of the rooms that the brothel provides him after he finishes offering his services, lying on the bed and trying to get a quick nap in before he goes to look for his brother. It's a cool day in Lisbon this afternoon, with a breeze wafting in through the open window and tickling his chin before blowing a few papers on the dresser beside his bed onto the floor.
Pio frowns and gets off the bed, bending over to pick up the papers and place them back onto the dresser. He's going to have to buy a paperweight for the papers that are always scattered around the room unless he wants to give up the breeze and close the window. But it's so stuffy all day in his rooms, and he likes nothing better than to fall back into the bed and nap while the breeze cools him down. He doesn't want to give up this little luxury for the sake of keeping his papers in one place.
A paperweight he will buy, then. He takes one of the books from his small shelf and places it on the papers as a temporary solution, grabbing his boots and lacing them up as he prepares to head outside. They're nice boots, made of leather and fabric that covers the sole and insides of the shoe. He uses them whenever he heads out, making sure to polish them brightly. Pio likes being noticed by other people, and clients like seeing how fresh he looks before they begin.
He opens the door and heads quickly down the hallway, ignoring the men and women waiting for their turn in the crowded rooms of the brothel. He can hear a few moans from rooms that he passes by, but most of them are blessedly quiet. The women in charge of the brothel like to soundproof the rooms for the privacy of their clients.
After the hallway, he waves to the woman at the desk who ensures that everyone is paid the wages that they've earned and that clients pay up. She gives him a grin, and waves him over to the desk. "Off to look for your brother again, Pio?"
"Of course." Pio smiles. "No point in letting Leo wander the streets until he finds something else to overdose on."
"Oh, I worry about him sometimes." The woman shakes her head in dismay, dark curls of hair falling out from behind her ears. "It's hard work in here, and some of the women and men like to find things that help them to forget what they have to do every day. But nature doesn't have much to help us forget things, and whatever does help is too twisted to be any good for the body. I have my theories on these drugs that some of them use, you know. They shouldn't be sold to people who are so vulnerable. Why, my sister had to stop her husband from buying a box of..."
Pio nods along to the speech that the woman gives him. He's heard it all before - Ms. Abila has disapproved of drugs in any shape or form for as long as he's been here at the brothel. It's best to nod along with her and pretend that everything she says is right. She might be opinionated, but she's a good friend and will help anyone out of a struggle if they need her. She's helped Pio himself over the years, from finding a place at the brothel to hide from the man that hid Pio and his brother for the enjoyment of himself and friends. Pio isn't the type of person to forget who has his back. "I agree, Ms. Abila. But who knows where Leo could be by now - I better go find him before it gets too dark."
Ms. Abila nods and lets Pio head out of the door. When he steps into the street, he breaks into a brisk jog before blending in with the rest of the crowd. It's mostly men and women walking home from work, tired from the long day and ready to put their feet up on the sofa once they get home. Pio's a bit tired himself, but he has to find his brother first. He doesn't trust Leo to be out by himself anymore. Not after a friend had found Leo in an alleyway, coughing up a storm and with haggard, red, tired eyes that tried to forget what had happened the night before.
No, Pio doesn't trust Leo by himself.
But Leo has managed to leave the brothel and find a new place to trade his wages for drugs, as he does every few days, and Pio heads to the usual spots. The first two men that sell Leo drugs tell Pio that they haven't seen him, but Pio finds his brother at the third dealer. Leo is handing over a few gold coins in exchange for the bundle that the dealer is holding, and Pio snatches the coins out of his hand. "Not today, Leo. You're coming back with me, and we'll fix you up a nice meal that you can sit down and enjoy for once."
Leo is surprised to see Pio here, rubbing his eyes blearily to see his brother better. "Pablo? You're here to get me again?"
"What do you expect?" Pio tosses a coin to the dealer, whispering to keep it in exchange for the business that Pio has cheated him out of. "And you know I like Pio better. How would you like it if you were called Leonard?"
Leo takes a while to think about the question, enough for Pio guide him through the large crowds and back towards the brothel. The woman at the desk smiles as the brothers open the door. "Good to see you back so soon! Dinner's being prepared in the kitchen, so go and find a spot at the dining room to eat at. It'll start soon!"
Pio nods and leads Leo through the halls, now all empty as the brothel closes in the evening hours. It'll open again briefly for the night so that a few more customers who can't attend in day hours can still get what they desire, but the clients will have to wait until the staff is fed. They take care of their own here.
Leo sits near the middle of the table and stares at his empty plate. Pio smiles to see his older brother so calm, and takes a seat as well. In the state that Leo is in, Pio has taken the spot as the older brother for the two. Despite the age difference, it still works - Leo listens to Pio when Pio brings him back, and Pio takes care of Leo. He won't let him be another body on the streets, the victim of an overdose. Leo won't get the chance, not as long as Pio is around.
He promises.
.oOo.
When she's calmed down, she will return to the rectory, and they'll talk to each other about what went wrong and why both of them were so angry. But right now? She just needs to be alone for a while.
.oOo.
Maria Bellini, 17, Italian Female
For the third morning in a row, Maria storms out of the back door and away from the rectory that she lives in with her step-father. Brother Marco is a good man at heart. He adopted Maria when she was a small child, after all, vowing to raise her like the woman of God he wanted her to be. But on days like these, he can be so insufferable she screams at him before leaving the house to walk through the town for a while.
Sometimes, she just needs to cool down. They both understand. That's why he doesn't try to stop her whenever Maria works herself into a temper. When she's calmed down, she will return to the rectory, and they'll talk to each other about what went wrong and why both of them were so angry.
But right now? She just needs to be alone for a while.
It had been the competition that drove the two into an argument this time. Ever since Otto Schnee had conquered Europe with Italy at his side, he had enforced a strict regime of which he was the puppet master. Small things were changed around Italy, small but noticeable. When he had announced that Germany would be hosting a death match for the regions under its control, no one in Maria's town had been surprised. He just seemed to be the type of person who would think nothing of making people suffer and forcing them to fight with one another meaningless. It was all a game to him, and he had a military comprised of half of Europe that could back his decisions up. No, there was no escaping Schnee's control.
But preparing herself in case she ever was subject to these competitions? That was one thing Maria could control.
Brother Marco disapproved of any form of violence. During the war, he had preached long sermons about the futility of war that the military had attempted to cut short, but the fact that he ran a hospital for wounded Italian soldiers in his own home and never spoke directly against the government allowed him to continue to speak, albeit in hushed tones.
Maria never resented the fact that he put so much effort into taking care of the soldiers that came to the rectory. She was a proud Italian, she was fine with what needing to be done. What had driven her over the edge in the past was that she would come home from school to find that another one of the rooms that she hid in had been re-appropriated for a ward that Brother Marco and the volunteers nursed over. When her step-father had suggested that she share her bedroom with injured women that came to the rectory, she had snapped and started one of their longest arguments to date. He had taken the hint and left her room alone, and in turn she tried to not vent about him too often to her friends.
Instead, she trained to blow off the steam from their arguments. When Otto Schnee had announced the competition, he had granted Italy the chance to let their children train for the competition in case they were the ones chosen in the lottery. Brother Marco had forbidden Maria from going to the training centre in their town, stating that she did not need to learn how to harm other humans when she could rather learn how to care for them in the rectory, but she didn't listen to him.
There were some things that Brother Marco wouldn't understand.
She runs as hard as she can to the town and pants for a solid minute outside of the training centre. She can feel her heart beating and her legs are burning with pain, but it feels good. She likes pushing herself, likes seeing how far she can go then go even further. She does the same thing with other people, teasing or flirting with them for as much as she can before seeing if she can cross the line. It could get her into trouble one day, but she loves the exhilaration of toeing the boundary and seeing how much she truly can get away with.
She had done the same thing in the war. When spies from other parts of Europe tried to infiltrate Italy and learn of its secrets so that they could prepare themselves in battle, she had signed herself up to help the cause and spent her days looking for enemy spies. It had been fun to doll herself up and wait in the streets, looking to find someone who would be trying to spy on her people. And she had.
She had found two, both men who she had heard speaking an unfamiliar language under their breath and looking out of place. There, she had flirted with them outrageously until they were under her thumb, then led them back to what she said was her home. Instead, they walked into the hands of Italian authorities and were brought to trial for espionage. She never knew what had happened to them, but a substantial amount of money had been given to her with both captures and she tried to ask. At this point, she was content to be unaware of what she had done.
She enters through the main door and walks into the empty gym, only one other boy practicing how to throw an axe. Most of the other teens in the town came here after school, while Maria liked to come here before school and practice. She likes to talk with other people, socialize, and have fun with girls and guys her age, but it's easier to focus on what she's doing when she's alone.
It doesn't hurt that being alone means that there are fewer people to tell her father that she comes here instead of going to school early.
As she takes the first knife from the wall and prepares to throw, she stares at the target on the other side of the room. She's gotten good at throwing knives through her training, and the reading material in the centre had shown her where the best places were to cut if she wanted to incapacitate another person, if not kill them. She's experienced with these knives, enough to hit the target every time she throws from a different position. This time, she'll hit the centre with every one of her throws.
She promises.
.oOo.
He doesn't like many people, but he does like meeting people who are spirited. That boy is one of the spirited ones.
.oOo.
Ignacio Russo, 18, Italian Male
Ignacio shoves aside the younger child in his way, snapping at the boy to get away from him before stalking off into the streets. The boy sticks out his tongue at Ignacio before running off, and Ignacio laughs. He doesn't like many people, but he does like meeting people who are spirited. That boy is one of the spirited ones.
The streets of Rome are bustling as always as he walks towards the marketplace where people sell food while trying not to be noticed by the Germans that always prowl through the streets like great cats that have been let loose from their cages and allowed to take back their places as kings fo the jungle. He admires their strength, their power that they're willing to show if anyone is disrespectful enough. People in Italy might not like the Germans watching them every day, but none of them would show it if the soldiers are in sight. The Germans are respected. Ignacio would like to be respected the way they are.
He had tried to lie about his age and join the army when the war had begun, but his parents had forbidden him from doing so. They said that there was no point in throwing his life away and told him to keep attending school, but now he sees that he made the wrong choice. If he had entered the military, he could have enjoyed the power that these men who guard the streets of Rome do now that they are in power. He can only dream of being one of the people who can walk around the streets with such impunity, but it could have been worse. He could have been born on the losing side.
Ignacio snatches an apple from the side of a cart that a fruit seller is standing next to, hawking prices for the attention of the crowd. The seller yells at Ignacio and tries to grab the apple that he has stolen, but Ignacio laughs and walks away. "Be glad that I didn't turn the cart over, old man. You should thank me for all of the work I didn't cause you, I suppose. Another apple should do the trick, right?"
The man spits at Ignacio, but the boy has already walked too far to be hit by the glob that lands harmlessly on the cobblestone streets of the market. Ignacio keeps walking, snatching a few more items of food behind the backs of shopkeepers who aren't paying attention to him. Most should be aware enough to realize what he's doing, but the marketplace has only gotten busier now that Italy has more money to buy with from the war.
Everyone has prospered since Germany had taken over the surrounding countries, as Schnee wished to award those who had helped his country thrive and make their way to the position of power they held now. Wages had gone up and so did the demand for food by the people, so much so that almost every seller of food in the marketplace is overwhelmed by the volume of people who wanted to purchase the items that they sold. As he walked out of the marketplace, Ignacio notes a few sellers who are already folding up their stands and heading back to their homes, just in time for lunch. They've sold everything in their stocks today.
"Ignacio!" a man in uniform calls towards him, and Ignacio turns his head in surprise. It's one of his old friends from school, a boy named Franco who was lucky enough to join the army and fight with Germany for the remainder of the war. Ignacio remembered racing him in the schoolyard when they were younger, and smiled at the feeling he got whenever he beat Franco. They were good times. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
"It has!" Ignacio shakes Franco's hand and looks appraisingly at his uniform. "You look good, my friend. The army is treating you well?"
"Of course. Schnee is gracious and raised all of our salaries. Some have been shipped out to other parts of Europe to guard the streets, but I'm one of the lucky ones who get to stay here in Italy. I get to enjoy the fruits of our labour. Ignacio, you should have joined us years ago."
Ignacio sighs. "I would have, but my dad still thinks that I shouldn't join the army. He's an old fool, but he still has enough power in the household to choose what my fate is. One of these days, though, I'll leave and sign up with a unit. Then I'll look better than you, Frankie."
Franco scoffs and pats Ignacio on the back, shaking his head good-naturedly. "You would have had a good time in the army. Unless you were put on the front lines, of course." Franco shudders, and Ignacio can see him recalling what he had gone through in the past years. "No good man should have been out there. No one should have been there."
Ignacio is impatient, but he waits reluctantly for Franco to snap out of his stupor and return to his good spirits. When the soldier does, Ignacio nods and makes a move to turn away from his friend. "I have to get back home soon. For some reason, I still have curfew. Curfew!"
Franco laughs. "If only my dad cared as much as yours does. But I suppose it turned out for the best, didn't it? I'll see you soon, I hope. I have a few more weeks of duty before I can return home for a month or so."
"So just after the competition begins?"
"Yes! I'll see you then." Franco waves as Ignacio walks away, then turns to continue patrolling the streets. Ignacio looks at the back of his friend with envy, then continues to walk towards his home on the other side of the city. It's not a long walk, but there are many turns that keep Ignacio moving until he will arrive home and start working on whatever his father needs him to do in the house.
Oh, what he wouldn't do to be like Franco! Even if he had to serve on the front lines, the glory of victory would make it all the worthwhile to work in the military.
Yes, he'd like it better that way.
And now, we only have one intro to go!
Let me know what you think of these four! They're all lov- no they're a mixture of horrible and too innocent for words but I adore them and they are now my beans
Also, exciting news - I've finished writing Et Vici Mundum!
*a pin drops*
Yep, I've prewritten it all - some forty-thousand words - and starting on the 1st or 2nd of March, I'll mass update it every day until we get to the finish line. This story is finally going to be finished, and I'm very excited for you all to see! I'm proud of what I've done with more than a few sections of the competition, and I hope that you'll be satisfied with the outcome.
But for now, we wait until the Americans and Canadians show themselves. Until North America, TheAmazingJAJ