" Oh, Puerto Rico..." Hummed the United States, or possibly for shorter reference, America.
Across a thick, wooden, darkly polished desk a blond laid out a clear map. There wasn't much to it. It simply showed his own glory of a nation and country, front and center, and then some detail was added to the water surrounding it. Displayed below Florida, down and a little southeast, he thought to himself, were a string of islands. The Caribbean.
In this region, specifically, showed two of a few colonies he had heard about. To the south, a long, stretched island sat, fairly sized to match against Florida. Cuba.
And to the east of Cuba, one, two, skip a few (islands); was Puerto Rico. A small dwarf, in comparison. Well, not like dwarves were small on their own already. Maybe just dwarf. Oh well, the same concept understood.
The poor thing.
Lately, the young man was hearing much... gossip, so to say. Not about the Caribbean Sea region necessarily, but rather more, the one country the two left operated under: the Kingdom of Spain.
Anti-Spanish propaganda flooded the streets- Well, not flooded, but certainly, it was making headlines among the hub and buzz of New York City. And this was nothing new. The Anti-Spanish talk truly started over in the 1860s, a bit under 30 years ago, but just hadn't become prominent until now. Especially after that Ten Years' War. What was a country like the great United States to do when he saw a country struggling to leave the overbearing arms of a proclaimed empire? He only saw it fit to help Cuba. Though all rebellious methods proceeded differently, he saw himself in the island man; as young a nation the blond was, he too was in the same predicament not too long ago. It was hard to believe it at times. Had it really been over a hundred years since he was last called the Thirteen Colonies? The American shook the disbelief from his head. He had come a long way since then and grew much more.
Still he thought about Puerto Rico. "Must be lonely out over there," he directed out loud to no one in particular. It was just him in a lone room. If anything were to happen between him and Spain, he started to think, it would be centered around Cuba and then the other stations Spain had out by Asia and the ocean... He didn't have another map. What were they again? The Philippines and Guam, he believed he called them. He would fact check it later.
But with Philippines, Guam, and Cuba, what would happen of this other little speck in the sea? Being determined so, America would win a war if declared. And in this so-called war yet to happen, what use of having Cuba released and taking away the Philippines and Guam but leaving that small smudge of a colony? Obviously, if he did end up having to take anything from the Spaniard, the situation was going to be all or nothing, dealing with the Americas especially.
This little spit. If America had a larger map detailing more of the world, he doubted that island would be presented on the paper, let alone detailed or named at all.
The tall blond sat in down in a chair. Still he pondered what could become of it. Maybe he had to look at a different angle, see a different view point, through different eyes. Anything! America refused to leave until he figured out what he would do if he had the other three locations planned out but not this one. It needed a plan, too, whether it knew it or not. He was going to save this spit on the map, dammit.
Frustrated, he stood and stretched and turned away from the map. He patted out his pants and shirt and tie, straightening them and distracting himself. Staring out a window, he couldn't tell why he was so stuck on this tiny, tiny island. (Also probably some hero complex.)
"It's the Caribbean," he stated. "I mean, other countries must've tried to take it before-" and it hit him.
Other countries have tried to take it before. That small place was worth a lot. Why else did Spain hold on so long?
Damn.
Since 1492, Spain had an empire building. Within the last 400 years, he lost so much but managed to hold onto these last few colonies. By Asia, Spain had little constant presence. In Cuba, it was surprising the European nation would let rebellions from his own colony drag on and last so long. Ten years did seem a stretch. Respect to Cuba though for holding out and against so long and fighting for they believe in. In Puerto Rico, however, business was quick with any independence issues. Perhaps it was a coincidence. Still...
Though, in 1868, the people had called for a revolt (probably not the first time), just the same as Cuba did and in the same year, too. Puerto Rico simply got their fire put out. Cuba was granted a war.
And the young blue eyed recalled all the stories he heard over the years. There's Spain, yes, he's got the places, owns it... But also France... The Netherlands... Possibly Denmark, he inquired, but those could have just been rumors, and then there is all those other European nations having sent their people over. And the crops, the sugar they have and we don't, the production that could be made with that... OH, and Lord knows how many times England has tried for this place. Gotten it once? Lost it? Still tried? How desperate...
Eyes open, a revelation appeared.
For Puerto Rico.