It was six in the morning, midnight back in the United States; nine hours before he was to host the world meeting. America looked out into the darkness of the city through the aged window, the white paint peeling away from both the age and constant berating of the outside forces. America went to his glasses and placed them on his face, slowly getting up out of the comfortable bed. He walked to the suitcase that he had placed by the lavender wall and placed it on the bed. He opened the latches and once more the tri-tiers came out.
He felt over his tools and then went to the bottom tier to grab his clothes. He went to the bathroom and began to fix himself up for the day. Black wig, tan trench coat, and tan business pants, a seemingly normal and classy outfit that would fit right in. He went out to his bed and then took the trench coat off and laid it out to reveal the inner part was layered in a thick black coating of something his military had been working on; it completely shields metals and weapons from any scanners or sensors. He started putting his "tools" into different pockets within the jacket, all of it fitting well enough so that the blind eye wouldn't suspect a thing. He put it back on and smoothened it out with his hand some, getting ready to leave the room. He went to the door and looked back at the room which still had the suitcase and his old signature clothes and jacket in it, cigarettes on the ground.
He looks at the jacket, feeling compelled to take it back with him and fly back to America and show up at the meeting and confess everything. He knew he didn't have that choice anymore; he lost that choice when he began this escapade which was only to fuel his senseless desire to disconnect him from his life.
"Bye." He whispered, but he wasn't sure if it was to the room or if it was to his former self.
He walked out of the boarding home, the young woman at the front too tired to wave him goodbye. He walked out into the musky street, void of life. He started his way to the museum, ready to meet David. It wasn't a long walk since he had made sure to get a place that was close to the museum. He came up to the Galleria dell'Accademia, a grand sight.
He suspected it was around 6:45 now so he felt no tension. America went to the front entrance of the grand cathedral of a museum and saw the doors were both locked and had bars over them. No problem. America knew he could simply break it down with the brute strength he had, and so he did. He didn't care anymore; he just wanted to see David. America walked in and heard alarms going off all around, a security guard running to him, not knowing that he wouldn't stand a chance against America. The man was subdued and knocked unconscious and America went on his way, listening to the alarms all around him.
He walked through the halls nonchalantly, whistling the national anthem with his hands in his pockets. Two security guards came to him but were suddenly struck by two personalized knives. They fell to the ground, their blood oozing out onto their white suits. America walked inbetween their two bodies, feeling one of them try to grasp his leg but failing.
America knew he had tripped multiple wires but simply did not give a shit. He walked his path to David, the sculpture surrounded by a laser cage.
"Nice Italy." America looked up to the emitters and pulled his pistols out, shooting down the emitters and indiscreetly shutting off the lasers.
America walked behind the statue and started placing explosives on the walls which would explode with enough force to knock out the entire wall with enough space to spare. He ran a fair distance and then set the explosives off with the single detonator, the sound ringing throughout the entire building. He went back and began to push David out, yet as he was thinking of this destructive strength of his he wasn't thinking of David anymore, but rather of the time he had dragged England's car all the way to him so that he could ask England for permission to drive it.
The memory made him stop in his place because, for once in a long time, his mind suddenly shot back into focus. He looked up at the statue and suddenly the guilt of his actions swept through him, forcing him to his knees in an intense shiver.
"Oh God, who am I?"
There were policemen coming, the sounds of foreign shouting and the blare of a helicopter. He knew that those watching through their TVs or through their windows figured it was the famous artifact robber. He knew that this was it, that his life finally caught up to him and forced him to realize that he was never going to escape his life and that everything that he had done would never fulfill his dream to be free of the never ending agony of what he felt. He started to cry into his hands.
"There's no room for me in this world. I'm a joke, a terrible joke. Please" he pleaded as he looked up at David "forgive me for the things I've done in my desperation to be something else." America knew he wasn't going to steal David all along subconsciously, but only now does he realize why.
They subdued him quickly.