"I must spill yet more blood, so the blood already spilt will not be in vain." -Lelouch, Lamperouge, "Code Geass"
After much deliberation and planning, the group of nations finally made their way to the museum. Canada stayed behind; however, it was not by his choice. His older brother America made it very clear that he didn't want anyone else a part of his mess. Mexico was the only exception even though America tried to convince her otherwise. She wanted to help out (with her metal baseball bat in hand at all times). She was a force to be reckoned with, needless to say.
Though America had no intention of including anyone else, Spain promised to help out by all means, seeing as he encountered the Aztec people centuries beforehand. He held useful information that would benefit America in the long run. So America agreed, but after that he vowed to no longer involve anyone who didn't already know about the woman.
There was another fight brewing between the countries, and that one was over how the sitting arrangement in America's hot red Ford Mustang was going down. Spain kept insisting on Mexico sitting next to him in case she became frightened. His argument was he could finally have a chance to take care of her like the dotting father he was. Though, Mexico thought differently since her defense was insisting that the damn Spaniard was not in fact her dad.
America tried his best to come to Mexico's rescue and argued with the others, saying that he couldn't have them making advances on the southern part of North America. In response, Mexico just rolled her eyes and sat in the front. That left one unhappy camper in the back right in between two members of the self proclaimed Bad Touch Trio. England got the extra seat in between Spain and France, his two worst enemies. None of the countries in the back looked happy at all. There grew an unbearable stiffness in the air as America drove down the Mexican streets in the night.
The stuffy atmosphere made America uncomfortable. He glanced at Mexico who crossed her arms and sat back in her seat next to him. She looked like her bad mood grew worse. Since America was the hero and all, he should put on some jams to ease the uncomfortable environment in his car. He came to the conclusion that music would solve their problems. No one could resist the amazingness that AC/DC's song 'Highway to Hell' brought when it came on the radio. It was both awesome and appropriate for the situation. The American took his right hand off the steering wheel and pushed one of the glowing buttons. A slow strumming of guitar strings began after the click. Then the words "America, America," followed, earning the American strange looks from his friends around him. Outwardly, America kept on a poker face. Inside, he yelled at himself for not taking out his CD of songs to play before a world meeting. The beat got faster and louder. Suddenly the countries were surrounded by lyrics saying, "America, FUCK YEAH! Coming again, to save the mother fucking day yeah! America, FUCK YEAH! Freedom is the only way yeah!"
"What the bloody hell is this rubbish, America?"
"You didn't hear anything!" America tried his hardest to change the song but he missed the button every time due to the bumpy road. In an attempt to block out the embarrassing lyrics, America began to yell very loud. It was futile though. The lyrics kept on going on, making America wish he could crawl in a hole and die. "So lick my butt, and suck on my balls, America, FUCK YEAH!"
Silence surrounded the countries in the car once again only this time America felt all their eyes on him. He couldn't confirm it, seeing as he glued his eyes to the road ahead. From the side, America could see Mexico still staring at him with probably a creeped out look on her face. He sighed before saying, "it gets the blood pumpin'." (His excuse for that dreadful song) The others just left the answer as was. Nothing in America's mind made sense.
When the group turned the corner, the countries noticed that the lights in the museum weren't on; making it look like an old building abandoned a long time ago. Everyone appeared to have terror in their eyes, but knowing they had to face this nightmare head on, they pushed their fear to the side for now. America did that especially. He brought this creature back to life, and he would damn well put her on the express trip back to hell. He owed that to everyone. So the American licked his lips and led his small team of fighters to their enemy.
The countries took a few steps into the dark museum, not having a clue on what to do. In an instant, Mexico noticed the knocked out security guard on the floor. She went to his side and checked his pulse, reassuring her that no one had died due to America's mistake. Her small hand wondered to the unconscious man's flashlight. It would be wise to use all the resources life threw at them.
America tried so hard to not make a joke; therefore, he focused his thoughts on something more serious. "Okay guys, game time!" The others turned to their 'leader.' The others never cemented the whole idea that America was the leader, but it was easier for everyone to just let the twat—er American, I mean- think it. America pointed two of his fingers to both Mexico and Spain. "You two need to be in separate groups," the country stated.
"Why?"
"We might run into a sit-e-ation where we have to speak Spanish hence why I'm splitting you two up. Now for the rest of us," America said as he examined France and England. It was a tough decision. For one, he didn't want to pair France with Mexico. The Frenchie would just take advantage of the whole situation. Having England on the team would be very beneficial too, but pairing England with France is worse than having to endure a two hour boring class with a monotone speaking teacher. "I got it! England go with—"
"I refuse to be paired with Spain and France."
"Good 'cause I was gonna have you team up with Mexico anyways. Problem solved! And the rest can come with me!"
"Wait!" Mexico spoke up finally, hoping to clarify a few unsaid things. "What exactly are we looking for? I mean—yes the weird lady but what else should we keep an eye out for? And why are we splitting up? Wouldn't it be better to stick together?"
Dang it, Mexico! She was ruining the fun by questioning everything! "Because—Because my group is going to where I screwed up before. I promised to tag you along, but I refuse to let you be in the middle of everything. You're a woman so you might get in the way." (It took every ounce of Mexico's strength to not punch America in the face at that point.) "And out of everyone here, I trust England will do the best at keeping you safe. Therefore, you and England need to stay here and if anything were to happen to us—which nothing will—" America had to add the last part in. France was already about to say some nonsense to get out of the group. "We just need others to make a quick get away to warn others about what's happening at your place."
"I zeenk I will be much 'elpful wiz zees group," France said as we walked over to Mexico and England. He didn't get too far, seeing as Mexico raised her baseball bat up on purpose. England had a smug look on his face when France made a quick turn back next to Spain. It was as though Mexico read England's mind. The two didn't want France anywhere near them. The one thing they bonded on over the years. Oh and also how much America bothered the holy hell out of them.
"We'll take a look around up here for suspicious activity," said England, "I don't want you lot to have all the fun."
"'kay, but when there's trouble you know who to call," America mumbled the last part as though it was a song. "Don't hesitate to do so." The two parties split afterwards in opposite directions with each member shaking in their boots.
In the first group of countries, England led the way with his attention fully on the artifacts in the museum. He went down the opposite way of where he previously went with America and France. He didn't have the luxury of light. Darkness shrouded England's entire surroundings, which proved to be difficult in such a vast, open area of space. The only source of light he had was that from his cell phone, which didn't help him out all that much. He had been through worse situations, he presumed. Even if the task of looking in the dark proved to be difficult, England always had Mexico to rely on.
Speaking of which, Mexico was not far behind. She seemed interested in the relics as well, which seemed odd to England. She should have visited this place before since it's pretty much a live history book. Then again, they were walking encyclopedias of their nations as well. He was surprised Mexico wasn't sharing stories about her past. That just made everything a tad bit more uncomfortable.
"So…" he began.
"So?"
God save the Queen, England didn't know how painful starting a conversation would be. He never had a problem talking to Mexico before. Looking back on it, the two were never left alone together. There was always at least a third party involved when they had a chat. England silently hoped for America to hurry up and complete his business to save England from embarrassing himself. After some thought, England imagined he must have looked like a train wreck in front of Mexico. He kept pacing back and forth in the room, rubbing his head. Now that he realized it, he was kind of sweaty.
"Are you okay, England?" Mexico couldn't help but ask. It was entertaining seeing England like this. That was why Mexico formed a smile but quickly bit her lips to hide it.
"Yes, everything is fine and dandy," England replied, calming down already. He turned to her. A thought crossed his mind. Mexico should be the one panicking, not he. Why was she calm? "May I ask why you are so composed? Our situation right now is far from ideal."
"True, but this is America we are talking about. And when he does something wrong –as a nation or as a person—he tries very hard to make up for it. I trust him."
Mexico's answer pleased England. It was nice hearing good compliments from others for his former colony despite their rough history. He probably looked like a damn fool right now. Curses! England had to change the subject and fast. The only thing that came to mind was Spain, and that was because England just so happened to be staring at a plaque that had his name in big letters.
"I say Mexico, I don't see how you can stand a twat like Spain. I've been dealing with him far longer than you yet I still can't stand the sight of him."
"It's the same reason why you and I put up with America." England stopped and looked directly at Mexico in one swift motion. He looked like a burglar caught in the act of robbing a store. Mexico just smiled at his guilty reaction. She was accountable for having the same emotion as well. "They screw up, but they do whatever it takes to make things better. He got under my skin like America did with you, don't get me wrong. But… Spain raised me when I had no one. I know it looks like I push him away, but it's mostly because of my pride. And for some reason I think he enjoys trying to win my affection. " (England scoffed then rolled his eyes. Spain was such a disgusting pig sometimes.) "As for America, there is something about that Americano that we love and can't get enough of. Am I right? Err- don't tell them I said that. I'll never hear the end of it."
"Well I wouldn't say I agree with your statement," England mumbled off trying to hide his reaction. Mexico was so spot on it wasn't even funny. England asked for something to take his mind off of what Mexico had just said. Like a miracle from above, England discovered broken shards of glass on the floor, leading him to their origin an empty glass case. "Mexico, look at this." He called her over, and she responded quickly.
Mexico noticed what England found. She leaned in to see what was missing. "There should be treasures here from what the description says. But the main attraction so to speak is a headpiece made with quetzal feathers bordered with gold and pearls."
"Quetzal? What is that?"
"It was a sacred bird from what I remember. When I was a little girl probably even before that, their feathers were worth more than gold—to the Mexica people anyway- not the Spanish explorers, obviously. They all wanted gold."
"How odd." England's eyes wondered off to the other glass cases next to the broken one. In them were various types of jewelry with different and unique stones on them. They were untouched strange enough. They were old artifacts, no doubt about that; however, they still looked valuable in a shoplifter's eye. These would have been the first to go in a 'normal' robbery. "These ones are left behind. Gold and jewels."
"That is weird."
"I'm not demeaning anything luxurious in your past, Mexico, but wouldn't these pieces be the first on a robber's list to steal? And not bird feathers?"
"I see what you're saying," Mexico said as she lifted her hand to her chin, touching it as if she were unlocking deep secrets of the past. "That information isn't really common sense. People have to research it to find that out. I only know it since I was physically there when it was being traded. But—to steal it now just seems… meaningless—if that's the right word to say."
"If a mere common thief were running around looking for goods to steal, their first instincts wouldn't tell them to take feathers when there is gold laying around."
"Something doesn't feel right," Mexico remarked as she rubbed her neck where the woman threatened the shard against her throat.
"Is something wrong, Mexico?" England asked. The look in Mexico's eyes disturbed him. She was startled, and that didn't happen regularly.
"That woman… when she," Mexico stopped for a moment to straighten out her words, "when she held me, that look in her eyes terrified me."
"Believe me, I had the same reaction you had—probably worse. I almost shat myself." England didn't realize the chuckle in his voice when he recalled the memory. Thinking back at how scared he was triggered such an emotion. But he stopped and knew it wasn't time for a relaxed and comfortable atmosphere yet. "What we saw—it wasn't normal, natural for that matter. It was something out of a horror movie. Only it was worse; it was real. I don't think I've ever been so scared in my existence as a country before."
"It knew my name." England turned to Mexico quickly once he heard the crack in her voice. She stared at him with a worried look. Though England focused on her face, he noticed her arms and legs trembling. "She knew my name," the Mexican repeated. "She knew my whole name. How did she know that?"
England walked next to Mexico. He patted her shoulder in an attempt to calm her down or even relief her of her worries. Though in his attempt to ease her fret, he felt her tremble under his touch. "I don't know why she knew that about you. Hell, even I didn't know. Nothing we are dealing with as of now makes sense, but I can assure you that we will get through this."
England's words seemed to have calmed Mexico down. She shook less as she took in deeper breaths. Sensing Mexico's quite stiff movements, England rubbed her arms with his hand to help calm her down faster. He was an amazing brother, if he did say so himself; though, some people didn't recognize or appreciate his affectionate brotherliness sometimes. "Like you said earlier," England began to speak again, "America, though he is a bit bonkers, he will to whatever he can to make things better. It's the hero in him." England felt his face form into a smile. It was unfortunate that he still cared for America after all this time. He looked at Mexico, who covered her grin with one of her hands. They both had dirt on each other so they knew the other wouldn't rat them out.
It was about time their moment come to an end. They had to solve this puzzle soon before anyone seriously got hurt. And so, England turned with his dim cell phone light leading the way only to be caught off by a strange creature of the night. It took all of the strength in England's body to not let out a loud scream. Instead he said, "Blimey! What the bloody hell is that!" The flashlight landed on a strange, orange design, resembling some sort of distorted face. It was massive to say the least. Unlike England's reaction, Mexico was calm and cool much different from her earlier attitude about the strange woman.
"Don't worry, England. It's only a butterfly," she said walking up to the figure, holding out a hand to touch it.
"That's no butterfly. It's huge!"
"Well of course it is! It's only a stuffed one of the actual butterflies. It's so people can really admire the patterns of their wings." Mexico stepped to the side, examining the other room more thoroughly. "I heard they added a monarch butterfly exhibit in here a while ago. I guess this must be it."
"Why on Earth would they do that? This place is about your history, no? So why add butterflies into the mix?"
"Their migration is famous and starts here, that's why. It's really beautiful." The Englishman heard Mexico exhale a large sigh almost as if she were in a dreamy mood. "Oh hey England! I know you're into witchcraft and weird things like that—"
"I am not!"
"I'm not trying to make fun of you in any way… I just wanted to let you know that Aztecs believed butterflies were happy deceased souls. Weird right? I guess the story goes that their loved ones came back to Earth to make sure they were okay. It's kind of sad to think about, but in its own way, it's hopeful and sort of sweet."
Mexico's eyes had a yearning for something important, England observed his friend. A part of her wished the tale was true. He guessed Mexico longed to meet someone who died a while back ago. It was heartbreaking to see such a sight. Any country or human who went through that type of pain hurt even those around them.
"Mex-"the Englishman stopped, lifting his light passed Mexico to the wall behind her. A picture caught his attention. It looked like an ordinary one, but something about it didn't settle right with England. His eyebrows knitted to together as his face turned into one that showed nothing but absolute confusion.
"England…?" Mexico seemed worried about him from the sound of her tone.
He couldn't take his eyes off of the painting. It captured him in some strange way. It had a sense of nostalgia. It was only of a man with richly decorated attire. He stood with such confidence even with a bloody background behind him. The man had green eyes and brown hair- shit. That was it. That was why he felt attached to it. The man looked like Spain. It was the exact replica of him. He even got the clothes right. That couldn't have been a good sign.
England turned to Mexico, who was about to place her hand on his shoulder. "Mexico, who does this painting remind you of?"
The young lady took a quick peek at the work of art. When it hit her, her eyes opened as well as her mouth. "Spain," she replied with a tone of aw. "Wow, it looks just like him! That's so weird."
As Mexico continued to gaze at the painting, still taken back by the resemblance, England looked at the title of the picture. "Implevit Desiderium," he mumbled, not sure what to make of it. "It's Latin."
"Isn't that a dead language," asked Mexico as England took a picture of the painting information.
"Yes, for a long time," England responded. "However, some of it still exists in some of the Romance languages such as Spanish for one—Italian, French, Portuguese, and so on—but that's not our main concern right now."
"What is?" Mexico sounded unsure. The urgency in England's voice scared her a bit.
"This painting was drawn in 1522. A year after the Aztec Empire fell, am I right?" Mexico nodded, and England continued taking, "We're presuming that the woman we encountered has some connection to the past—assuming she is an Aztec—"
"Mexica, they are called Mexica," Mexico interrupted to correct England.
"Yes right, but if she died when the empire fell, she knows who Spain is, the Spanish anyway."
"I understand that, but why are you obsessing over the painting?"
"This man whether he is or isn't Spain has an uncanny resemblance to him, right? He even has the same clothing like Spain does tonight."
"So if she sees him… Spain will be danger."
"Precisely."
"That's why she screamed when she saw him at my house," Mexico's voice sounded broken as she put the pieces together one by one. "She knew exactly who he was."
"We have to let them know what they are up against or at least warn Spain of the danger he is walking in on personally."
The three other countries traveled deeper into the museum's structure with nothing ahead of them but the lights from their cell phones. America led the group once again; however, this time it wasn't by choice. France stayed behind everyone like the chicken he truly was, hoping his position would give him the best chance to escape quickly. Spain on the other hand followed America closer than he expected. America just assumed Spain wanted to get this entire thing over with. A country's past was a difficult thing to face. UGGGGGGGGH. All this serious talk and silence made America's brain hurt like Hell!
Right as the young man looked around for an object to go off about, America's eyes locked on a painting. He pointed his cell phone's dim light on it, showing him the true nature of the painting. It demonstrated the Aztec's infamous sacrifices. Blood covered the bodies and most of the area surrounding it and the Aztec priests. It was probably nothing compared to being there. The screams as the people being killed in front of an audience haunted America's thoughts even though he was just imagining it. Most of their culture had been lost to the world for centuries. It was unfortunate how their most violent and sacred part was looked down upon. It made America pity them. He didn't have the cleanest past at all. But he was certain that his citizens had pride being American. Or so he hoped so.
"Hey Spain," America spoke up, not thinking his question through, "were the Aztecs as violent as people say they were? Like, how crazy were their human sacrificing? I mean, you can't make that stuff up." The question didn't deem inconsiderate to America until after he noticed Spain's offended reaction.
After thinking the reply over in his mind, Spain answered, "Worse. The cries for help, the smell of burning, rotting flesh… I can still remember them to this day. We've all seen death. It's part of the deal when you are a country, but people purposefully killing others in such a gruesome way never leaves you."
"Were they all like that?" (Again with the insensitive questions America) "Like the Mayans and Incas?"
"I never got to know them like I did with Aztec."
"But—but all the stories! You can't think of those Empires without thinking of you, Spain. You're the Conqueror of South America. Except for Brazil. He got away from you."
"You are thoughtless like England!"
France felt his presence being ignored or possibly forgotten as Spain and America got in a small argument. It was strange seeing Spain in a different mood besides happy. France thought over the years and realized he had never really seen his friend snap so quickly over a subject. But as France recalled, back then in the 16th century Spain never mentioned any of this to him personally. He always brushed it to the side or kept it vague. At the time, France must have not sensed it about being a difficult time for his friend. Spain gained so much wealth from overseas; France assumed he was just tired from traveling on the ocean for so long or just wanted to sleep on his bed at home. Scratch that last bit. Spain would have dealt with Romano during that time, and no one wanted to deal with that mess of a kid even if he was cute. Nowadays he was still a pain in the ass.
The Frenchman carelessly waved his cell phone light over anything even if it wasn't important for their scavenger hunt. However, this time France spotted something shiny, catching his eye almost immediately. He glanced back at Spain and America who still fought in harsh whispers. France pursed his lips and went down the dark corridor without his friends noticing his action. His legs led him to a rather familiar painting with a gold plague explaining it at the bottom. It was from when he and Mexico fought in the Pastry War. No wonder why it seemed familiar.
It was a stupid war really. A pastry chef claimed Mexican officers ruined his shop, yada yada. England even got involved at some point. But that didn't faze France in the slightest way. He got his money. Seeing as it was an opportunity to strike at England's ego, France made a quick turn as if he was going to say something to his friends. The awkward part was that they went off without him, leaving France in the darkness all alone.
"So they really 'aven't noticed I 'ave left zem yet?" France said out loud. "'ow rude…" With the thought of his two comrades forgetting his existence, France set out on a journey to find Span and America.
In another end of the museum, America and Spain failed to see eye to eye… still. Spain argued that America was an insensitive little brat who should mind his own business. America's defense was that he was a bit curious over the Spaniard's history. It wasn't like it was a huge secret. Everyone knew Spain defeated the past empires. The details weren't all there; that was all.
"I just asked you a simple question! You're the one blowing it out of proportion. Geeze." America scoffed to the side. Spain was the one being all mysterious and weird. Not his usual attitude but the girls would still throw themselves at him no matter what.
Spain stopped on a dime, facing America with harsh eyes. It was bizarre seeing Spain without a smile or ditzy face. America knew something was up if Spain was acting in such an odd way. The Spaniard huffed than spoke. "I met Aztec, befriended her, betrayed her, and later on killed her. Maya was dying already—on her last days on Earth when I met her. And Inca… I hardly knew her. She almost destroyed herself with civil wars. I betrayed her as well. It took awhile, but I managed to defeat her as well. Happy now that I gave you an answer?"
The air around them grew stuffy and uneasy. America felt sheepish for pushing the other over the edge. He didn't mean to open closed wounds. "Hey man," he started weakly, "I'm sorry I didn't mean to—" America stopped his apology, noting something off. "Where's France?" The two looked down the shady hallway. They couldn't see anything clearly after a few inches down. "That damn Frenchie coward! He ran off back to England and Mexico," said America through gritted teeth.
Spain didn't react the same way America did. A barely audible noise caught his attention instead. The Spaniard turned his head toward the dark hallway that awaited them to travel down. America still cursed at the absent France, but Spain put his hand over America's closed fist, grabbing the American's attention in the process.
America looked toward where Spain was staring at. They heard strange noises coming from the darkness. It sounded like drums beating, but the two countries couldn't figure out if the sound came from actual drums or the blood pulsing through their veins. America felt a knot form in his throat. He must have looked nervous, but he made his way down the murky corridor.
Once they made it to the end, they turned the corner, revealing a dim, orange glow originating from a candle light. America knew he was in the right place. The environment around him was familiar in a creepy way. He made it to the same room he was in earlier. Only there was a gloomier and colder feeling to it than before.
The boxes that crowded the room were now pushed to the farthest corners, leaving the center to whatever it was needed for. America saw his creation walking in the middle. The American kneeled and pressed his body against the wall showing only half of his face. Spain was behind America examining what the strange woman was doing. She walked in front of where the candle that brought her to life use to be then placed a large book to the left corner. America noted that the book looked ancient before he or Mexico ever walked the Earth. It was possible that it was created during the ancient times like when Ancient Rome roamed the land.
At the right corner, the woman placed the old mirror France made England look at earlier. They hadn't the slightest clue if that piece of junk actually meant something important to others. It could have been thrown away and they wouldn't have flinched.
The woman stepped back to the other side of the room. She then kneeled in her place lowered her head to the floor, beginning to mumble foreign words. America noticed the woman's outfit. It was one of the replica clothes on the mannequins in the other room. The head piece with bright green feathers was on one of the sealed crates. There were other stolen artifacts around her like a dagger made out of bone or something of the sort. The female sat up in a swift motion with her eyes closed. She was in a deep state of concentration from the looks of it. Then she put down long brown hair in front of her. It wasn't her own since it was a bit lighter. America put the pieces together. That was Mexico's hair from when the woman yanked out before running off with it. After he realized it, it kinda grossed America out.
Without opening her eyes, the woman searched for the dagger next to her leg. She raised the knife up to her face, finally opening her eyes to see what she was doing. In a quick motion that America and the others couldn't fathom at the moment, the woman cut off a chunk of her flesh from the soft part of her arm with the dagger. She set her piece of meat on top of Mexico's hair, continuing with her chant as though nothing had happened.
After that the witch began moving her arms and hands around. The open wound on her arm never shed blood. Seeing as she had been dead for so long, her body didn't have the bodily functions to produce the crimson liquid. It egged on the fear the countries hid from the others. This was some strange voodoo shit America got them in.
The smoke from the incense condensed around her and then some of it travelled to where the other objects were. It clouded them until they were unseen by the hidden countries. The words chanted grew louder as the clouds of smoke grew larger. The wind around America and Spain got stronger as well. Their hair went wild. It was hard focusing on what was happening. As the chant reached its climax, everything stopped. The clouds of smoke fell down to the floor, making the floor look like a swamp area. The floor was covered in the thick smoke. The woman and objects were unfound. Everything was still even the candle lights that flickered beforehand.
"Where did she—" A sudden motion from the mysterious smoke cut off America from saying anymore, scaring the other beyond understanding as well. Spain covered America's mouth with his hand. He was sure the brat would scream out some nonsense about 'being the hero' or do something stupid to give away their position.
America glanced back to where the movement came from. He saw something break the cloud of smoke. It was the same woman from before only she was hunched over with her hands covering her face. America didn't know if it was due to the smoke or what but her skin seemed to have more color to it rather than it being pasty white. It looked tanned as though she spent her whole life working in the sun. Her hair which was unruly and untamable before was now straight and polished.
The woman peeked through her fingers, eyeing what was in front of her. She lowered her hands, revealing her different and younger face to America as well as Spain. The horror in America rose. She resembled Mexico. A few differences- like her dark, soulless eyes for example- but other than that it was a doppelganger of his dear friend. Spain must have seen the resemblance as well since his hand that rested on America's shoulder for support dug deeper into his skin. America had to hold in a squeak from escaping his mouth. God, Spain was stronger than he looked.
Mexico's lookalike rose on her legs. Her weak legs gave out under her like when she first rose from the grave. Her next attempt was more successful. She stayed standing up, slowly turning to the green head piece behind her. It fit perfectly on her head as though it was made completely for her honor.
"Rise," she said turning back, "rise, oh great empires, rise once again from your long sleep."
Where the book and mirror were placed, the countries heard shuffling and movement on the stone floor. Two more bodies rose. Their dark hair broke the smoke screen, revealing more young women. One of them stretched her arms in the air as though she really did wake up from a cat nap. She let out a long yawn as she continued to wake up from her slumber.
It was probably an inappropriate time to think of such things but that one chick had it going on, thought America. Spain must have sensed America's thoughts since the damn Spaniard hit the back of his head, causing him to almost shout out in pain.
The young woman let out a loud moan as she finished stretching her body. She opened her eyes finally noticing the room she was in. Nothing registered as familiar. "This doesn't look like my bedroom. What place is this?" Her eyes locked on the female standing in the room. Her eyes and body relaxed. She became comfortable with the newly discovered presence, seeing as she twiddled with her dark brown hair that was in a long braid. "Oh dear sister, it's good to see you again!"
America's creation looked taken back. She glanced down at her 'new' body form and went along with what the other said. "It's been a long time, sister… Please stand up."
The other did as she was told. She was clumsier than the other one. Her small, thin legs wobbled and she fell to the ground on her knees. "It feels as though I haven't walked in ages," the one with the braid commented. The sounds of shuffling stopped the other from standing up.
The last one to show themselves was the one where the large book was. This woman had curly hair, resembling a thick mane from a lion. Though she was the last to show herself, she rose to her feet the quickest almost without any complication at all. She looked stronger than the other two. There was a sense of sturdiness and strength in her eyes where as the other one seemed a bit aloof.
"Sister Maya! You are here as well!" The one with the braid exclaimed, rushing to her feet to greet her sister in a strong embrace. The one called Maya was still adjusting to the environment to return the hug properly.
"Inca," Maya pulled her sister away from her body, "You've grown." The taller one with curly hair sounded flabbergasted as if she had never seen her sister before.
The other nodded in agreement before saying, "Much has changed since I first formed. Oh, it's so good to see you again! You look stronger from what I remember!" The energetic one hugged Maya once again then released her. Inca reached for her hand and walked toward the one who summoned them both. "Look at us! The three empires together once again! Maya, Inca, and Aztec!"
America and Spain's hearts sank so far that it felt as though a black hole was crushing it into oblivion. The three infamous, deadliest, and strongest empires in the Americas were alive and walking once again right in front of their faces. America felt the breath in him escape his body. He forgot how to function for a moment. He just unleashed mass amount of harm to the world. This was entirely his fault. An unbelievable total of stress came upon the American's shoulders. He hadn't the slightest clue of how to stop this train wreck. It wasn't much, but there was some relief to America, seeing as he had Spain on his side. He conquered them before so he should have a clue of doing it again. Right?
"Aztec?" The strong one seemed surprised. She looked at the proclaimed 'Aztec' and inspected her carefully. There was something off in her 'sister'; however the Mayan couldn't put her finger on it. Maya then spoke in a strong, articulate voice. "Where am I, Aztec? What dreadful place have you brought me to?" She examined her surroundings thoroughly and nothing enlightened her. This wasn't the last place she was before she went asleep.
"It's a replication of one of our temples, mimicking its former glory," the first one answered.
"Lies," Maya mumbled as she freed herself from Inca's grasp, "this place is mocking us. This is filth. Nothing from what I remember." The woman with curly hair placed her hand on one of the walls, feeling it. "This stone is cheap, not stable. It couldn't last for more than one life cycle. And these carvings are meaningless. They hold no story or truth for the people. What mockery is this?"
"It seems as though our language has diluted over these past few centuries."
"Centuries? Nonsense, I took a nap. It's only been a few hours—if anything."
"What is the last thing you remember, dear sister?" Aztec asked with a sly tone leaking out of her speech. She had a hidden agenda they didn't know of.
Maya seemed surprised by the question Aztec asked her. She had to take a moment to reflect before answering. "It was a hot day as I recall. I did not feel well so I had to lie down in my chambers. The others understood so they let me do so. I heard noises, but… I couldn't get up. I just drifted to sleep."
"And you Inca?"
"I don't remember much," Inca responded, "but I do recall my head and body hurting very much."
"Sisters." When Aztec said the word, it sounded more of a statement coming from an actress rather than a close family member. That didn't sit well with Maya, America and the others noticed. "When you both were asleep, I was able to discover some interesting facts about us, about our civilizations. This place is dedicated to our history. Mine mostly but still… I was able to find out interesting facts about you two as well." The other two stood in a state of anxiety and suspense before Aztec said another word. They didn't have a clue of what the past held for their people.
"Let me start with you, Maya," Aztec said as she took a few steps toward the said empire, "Your people were killed by the Spanish explorers. They were literally knocked off the face of the Earth. Everything they possessed was left undisturbed. The stragglers who travelled in different places were enslaved by the Spanish.
"As for you Inca," Aztec turned her attention to the other one who seemed frightened by what was about to be revealed to her, "That pain you felt came from a civil war encouraged by the Spanish conquistadors. Their leader befriended your king, and when he refused to accept Christianity, they held him hostage. Your people gave them a generous amount for ransom. They kept their word, but the Spanish did not. They killed him and took your gold and people as slaves."
The fear in Inca's dark brown eyes grew as she lifted her hands to cover her open mouth. Though she was horrified by what she heard, Inca had to ask Aztec one question. "What happened to you, Sister Aztec?" Maya lifted her eyes from the ground to see her sister's reaction to the question. Before, she was too focused on what Aztec informed her about on her people, but now it was Aztec's turn to share her horror story.
"I'm afraid mine is much, much worse," Aztec said, "It is too horrible to repeat. But know this, my downfall was the bloodiest of all of ours, Inca."
"Just tell us, sister," Maya hissed towards the end. She seemed to have a short temper.
"In the year 1519, strangers with light skin came to our land. They took whatever pleased them. Food, money, valuables, women, slaves, you name it and they had it. They made their slaves learn Spanish to communicate with the nearby villagers. They made alliances with them, saying they would save them from the dreadful Aztec Empire and their human sacrificing ceremonies. So they did. After months of waiting and creating allies, Montezuma, ruler of my precious Empire, allowed the Spanish into my home. Slowly, they changed my home with statues of people of their religion. We didn't want any of it. Cortes, the leader of the Spanish, threatened to kill Montezuma if we did not follow him. The funny thing was that we abandoned that low life of a ruler long ago. We fought for all we could. They hit us and we hit them. We had a new loyal ruler who wanted to save our home. However, they ruled the water and had those stags. They attacked us all day and night. Somehow their disease infected us, weakening our armies. 80 days and nights we managed to protect our home, but they broke our barrier. They looted, raped, and destroyed everything good. When they were done with us, they burned everything down to the ground." Towards the end of her speech, Aztec seemed choked up about what she said. It was the one time since she was created that she was human. "That is where we are now. On top of the ashes of my empire, my home."
What the woman said and what America read out loud before this whole catastrophe began were completely different. Hearing the account from someone who was there was so different and disturbing from just reading the words on paper. America's heart went out to her—them. It was understandable for them to feel those intense emotions. America didn't know who we wanted to side with for a brief moment. He was allied with their murder after all. Speaking of which, Spain was motionless. He was still in shock about the three empires being resurrected.
"Oh Aztec!" Inca ran to her sister and embraced her in a comforting hug, hoping to wash away any trace of sadness she felt at that moment. "Everything will be fine. I'm sure of it."
"No," Aztec said firmly, "everything I know is lost to the world. Everything we all know was destroyed centuries ago!"
"Why do you repeat 'centuries'? It cannot be possible for me to sleep that long!" Maya was outraged by what no one was sure. She just found out how her empire crumbled. Her home disappeared off the face of the planet. That was enough to make anyone crazy or mad.
"We died a long time ago, Maya, Inca! My empire was destroyed in 1521. The year is 2011. Everything you once knew is gone and forgotten from people's minds."
"YOU'RE LYING! If I was dead, I wouldn't be talking to you right now! Besides, I look better than I have in a long time. I'm well rested."
"I brought you here, Maya! You are feeling, breathing, talking because of me."
"Why? Why did you bring me here again? To tell me how my sister and I died?"
"No."
"Then why?" Maya was on the verge of screaming whereas Inca stood on the sidelines witnessing the conflict unfold before her.
"Justice!" Aztec exclaimed.
"You are speaking of revenge, you spiteful woman," Maya raised her voice with her arms crossed across her chest.
"No, you are misunderstanding me, Maya. I want justice. Justice for our people. Justice for our descendants. That is all I wish for. I crave nothing more than to see those who took away my home and family to suffer the same fate I did and more."
"More?" The word escaped Inca's lips.
"Yes, more. What if we were to work together and get back what was once ours? Land, riches, everything! As well as letting those who died for our protection in such cruel circumstances pass on with integrity. We can get it all back. All I ask is for your assistance."
"Why would we belittle ourselves to such an act?" Maya asked pulling Inca closer to her.
The scene developed rather quickly as America was glued to the women. It was so scary and interesting to see these three women interact with one another. Everyone including countries and humans wanted to see these three empires once more. It would be such a wonderful sight. It was as America concluded.
America soon realized Spain wasn't near him anymore. He turned his head to only see the Spaniard backing away from the scene. He looked horrified. America understood what Spain must be feeling at the moment. But no words of comfort came out of America's mouth. He didn't know what to say to him.
"Spain—?"
"I have to leave- I'm sorry—I can't be here anymore." And like that Spain went down the hall where the two entered in, leaving America to face the women alone.
America crouched back down as she whispered the word 'shit' over and over again. Yes, he was the hero but not the lone hero, shit. He wasn't Dirty Harry, for Christ's sake! He couldn't shoot up the damn place for one because Mexico would kick him and he didn't have a gun to do so, so yeah that plan had to be thrown out.
As America weighed the possible outcomes of him revealing himself to the empires like the badass he was, he looked up to the sound of a ceramic vase shattering on the floor. The only thing wrong with that was it came from another room. One of his friends just revealed their whereabouts in the museum.
"It seems as though we have a lurker nearby," Aztec said with an evil smirk. It wasn't normal to see so much wickedness in a woman's face. "I will go on ahead to make sure we are safe. Inca, can you keep me company? I think Maya needs sometime to compose herself before hunting down anyone."
Hunting? That word didn't sit well with America. The woman—Aztec—treated life like a game of revenge. She took the phrase 'survival of the fittest' to a whole other level.
"Now Maya, if you sense anyone near you, don't hesitate to attack them because they won't think twice when trying to bring you down again." Aztec's mischievous eyes locked on Maya as she made her way to the entryway across from where America hid. Maya stood there with her arms folded across her chest. She looked torn about the whole situation. She seemed to be out of the loop. She couldn't fathom the thought of dying and coming back to life. It wasn't natural. There was an obvious struggle within herself. America would have been completely stupid if he interrupted her thinking session.
France's paranoia took over his every action and thoughts. His hands shook like crazy. Plus, he couldn't walk or think straight, causing him to fumble and knock down a vase. The country knew he was in trouble after that so he scurried to find a safe spot away from anyone's view, fully aware of what would come after him. No way was he facing that crazy woman all alone in the dark. France failed to find a hiding place, however. He just ran around like a chicken with his head cut off.
France found himself hurrying after every step he took in the dark. He saw shadows moving at the corners of his eyes, making him question what was real and what wasn't. He heard noises of footsteps appearing and disappearing at his sides. Chills ran down his back at the thought of someone hunting him like some sort of animal.
The artifacts around him quickly became his enemies, plotting his demise. He felt them move when his eyes weren't on them. He could have sworn he saw the masks on the walls keep France in their sights. If that wasn't bad enough, the country heard small sounds in the distance like snickering. He couldn't separate what was reality and what his mind fabricated. The moonlight beamed through the windows, creating more eerie thoughts as it enhanced the movements of the night. France felt exposed like a weak, pitiful gazelle surrounded by a pack starving hyenas. He had no way of escaping his mind games. Everywhere he went only fueled the noises and thoughts. He had to find the others as quickly as possible. All the worrying tore at his thoughts and decision making. He could have sworn he could go mad. France wasn't the strongest or bravest man around, he'll admit that much, but nothing got in his way of thinking clearly.
Though all the thoughts in France's mind confused him from thinking clearly, the sound of two sets of footsteps stood out from all the chaos and confusion his mind made up. France's instincts kicked in, and he hid behind the tallest stand he could find closest to him. It wasn't the most ideal hiding place, but it will do. All France had to do was plan when to move to say out of his enemies' sights.
He heard two women conversing with one another.
"Excuse me, Sister Aztec, but I'm a little bit confused," the one who spoke sounded petite almost like a child.
Aztec, France repeated the word over in his mind until he remembered its significance. He discussed this topic with the others a while ago.
"-Besides everyone who was alive to conquer us back then has long been dead. What kind of people would we be if we killed those who did not exist back then?" The petite one added on to the conversation.
"You are wrong there, Inca. There is one person who hasn't died yet." The second person spoke up. She sounded more stern like an adult with authority.
"How can that be? No human can live for more than a century." Inca was baffled by the words Aztec spoke. It only made it easier for Aztec to lure Inca in.
"No human can, but for someone who is just like you, five centuries is nothing but a mere moment to a country."
"Someone like us?" Inca thought about the vast amount of people she learned to know over her existence. "Oh, are you talking about Spain?"
Hearing his friend's name brought a chill to France's heart, and the sensation circulated through his whole body. He could have sworn his body temperature dropped a few degrees.
"Yes, that man is still alive. I saw him with my own eyes. He is the same as he was back then. If we can get a hold of him, our revenge for our lost civilizations will be one step closer to being complete." It was obvious to France at least that the one named Aztec held back dire details on her upcoming plans.
"But what happens after we get Spain?"
"Afterwards…?" Aztec took a moment to think of an answer or excuse, whichever one she thought of first. "Inca, I must tell you something important. As of now, we are on borrowed time. We have one night on this Earth to live. Once dawn comes and the sun touches our skin, we will return back to our graves. I—I cannot share this piece of information with Maya yet. She seems broken already about dying. I can't imagine her reaction when I tell her she will die a second time."
"Die…? But… I don't want to die! Not yet. This time seems like a lot of fun to leave now!"
"Don't fret my sister. I came up with a plan. The reason I brought up Spain is because he is needed for our survival. We must kill him. Now before you say anything, listen to my reasoning. His death won't just be revenge. It will keep us alive. We have one night to accomplish what needs to be done or else we will be dust in the wind. If we kill that man—the reason why we died in the first place-, we will be able to see passed dawn. After we defeat Reino de España, we take our lands back as though nothing in the past happened. We can justify what happened to us."
Inca looked sickened by the piece of information as was France. The two didn't know but both of their faces lost their color, resembling a white ghost. However, France turned a bit green. He cared deeply for his friend. Just imagining Spain going through pain and even causing such gruesome attacks to others on purpose made his body ache in both sadness and denial. Regardless, France knew his friend wasn't a heartless jackass. Knowing so, it took so much effort to not object or stand up for Spain. Alas, his fear kept him in check.
Aztec felt Inca's uneasiness about Spain's death so she comforted her sister with soothing words that hit home for Inca. "When I walked this place before waking you and Maya up, I saw more people like us. They were like that man Spain. They had light skin, different colored eyes. Some like the greenest of forests and others like the great waters surrounding us."
"There are more light skinned men?" Inca interjected with bright eyes. She seemed interested in the thought.
"Yes, the blonde one with blue eyes is the one who resurrected me who in return resurrected you. If it were not for him, we would not be here right now. But those ones aren't our main focus right now. We have to-" The woman stopped. "Do you hear that noise…?" A frightening silence came afterwards, almost making France's teeth chatter, but the Frenchman locked his jaw tightly. No way was he going to go down like this.
In another part of the museum, Spain found himself running in a frantic state to an empty, dim hallway. Once he stopped to take a quick look around to see if anyone saw his whereabouts. Thankfully, no one was around, leaving him to let go of all his pent up emotions. Spain let out a deep, tearless sob. He wanted to scream; he wanted to cry, but nothing came out. As his body refused to release tears, the deep part of Spain's throat burned as a knot formed from his silent screams. It felt like swallowing shards of glass every time he pushed back tears. The Spaniard only scrunched his face tightly, enough to give him a painful headache if he kept on doing the act, as well as grinding his teeth together.
Spain couldn't take the pressure from all his emotions. Every inch of his body shook. Slowly, he placed his forehead against the nearest wall, reliving the days of 1521. His legs failed to keep his body up, causing him to collapse to his knees as the faces of those he killed in Mesoamerica appeared before him. It was all too great. The loss of three magnificent civilizations was too much to bear. All the resurfacing emotions swarmed back to his mind at once.
Through the faint light provided by the moonlight outside, Spain looked at the palm of his hand once he calmed down a bit. He examined his hand. It looked different like it was the wrong hand. The odd thought continued to plague Spain. It was a stupid thing to obsess over especially at a difficult time like this. The thought soon changed. Spain considered that may be he was asleep. That everything that happened in Mexico's house up until now was a dream or in his case a nightmare.
"Is this real…? Am I really here?" He asked himself as he flipped back and forth between the back of his hand and palm. Spain didn't ask anyone in particular since he knew he was alone. He felt if he talked out loud—even if it was just him—Spain needed to know someone was listening.
He touched the cold, tiled floor with his hand still shaking like mad. Feeling the chilly floor couldn't convince him that he was in reality. He couldn't accept it. This fate he was forced into made him angry. He already saw the devastation before, and he didn't plan on going through it again. "No… this can't be happening. This isn't real! I have to wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP!" Spain hit the side of his face repeatedly until either his cheek bled or it finally sunk in that he would never wake up. Luckily for his face, the second reason came first. "W-wake—wake up… please," he croaked out one more time, hoping his wish would come true. Spain leaned his back against the wall once again in defeat, fully aware of his presence of the real world.
Because of his awareness, Spain felt extremely sheepish for abandoning America in the room with Maya. Even if it was just a moment of fresh air, Spain still ditched America with one of the countries with the worst attitude ever. And it would be his fault if anything happened to America. Once again, Spain put an innocent person in danger. After such a haunting thought passed through his mind, Spain could have sworn he heard a faint noise—he couldn't quite make it out—drawing closer and closer to his location.
Now before all the interruptions and noises are revealed, the source must come first. Back to where America hid from Maya, the blonde American attempted to be as still as he possibly could for as long as his body could handle. That proved to be a tougher task than he had hoped for. His legs wobbled from the pressure and extent of time he knelt on them.
Fortunately, the resurrected empire hadn't noticed him yet. She still looked weary of her existence on Earth. He walked back and forth in the room where she awoke. Again, America just stayed in place, avoiding any confrontation with the obviously unstable Maya. Any other time he would have jumped into action, but he was a hero not some jerk who took cheap shots at women. No he was better than that, he thought.
But even the self proclaimed hero knew his limits. He couldn't take down the Mayan Empire even if he wanted too. She was like an equal in strength. All the stories of her society being advanced beyond imagination got America shaking in his boots. So America came up with a plan to go back for Spain while he still had the advantage of not being discovered yet. The Spanish country dealt with Maya before so he had to have known a few tricks here and there.
However, this time America was not so lucky. For at that moment, the American heard a familiar sound ring that sent a surge of electricity down his spine throughout the area he was in, the room where Maya stood, resounding through the nearby corridors and rooms. America shut his eyes as he then reached into his jean pocket to retrieve his ringing cell phone. America gulped as he answered the phone without looking at the caller id.
"Hello," he said in a muffled voice, hoping the racket before didn't stir Maya from her thoughts.
"America! Thank God you answered." Oh God, it was only England. It relieved America to hear his former caretaker's voice. The American's breathing eased a bit, but his heart continued to race. England never called America unless it was an absolute emergency. The Englishman continued, "Listen to me, you have to get Spain and yourself out of there immediately! You two are in danger if that woman sees Spain the way he is."
"Why…?"
"He is dressed the way he was in 1521. If that crazy woman sees him again, there is no telling what might happen, especially in an environment where she has the advantage."
Right after England finished his statement, America heard bare feet behind him. Slowly and regrettably, America turned his head, revealing the sight he wished wasn't in front of him. A few steps in front of him was Maya, staring back at him with crazy, dangerous eyes. She looked like a starving bear in the wilderness, about to attack a defenseless human being. He interrupted her thoughts; therefore he must pay the price.
"Run…" Though his voice was low and quick, there was a sense of urgency that even England could hear on the other side of the receiver.
"Come again…?" England responded.
"Run! Run! RUN! We've been discovered! Now just run!" All was left was the dreaded dial tone and a wide-eyed England. The other country looked at Mexico, who covered her agape mouth with her tanned hands. She heard the entire conversation loud and clear. He closed his phone and grabbed Mexico's wrist. England felt bad for yanking her body like that, but it had to be done. Their instincts for survival kicked in. They knew no one would show them mercy at a crazy time like this.
Sorry this part took so long. I was very busy with school and whatnot. After I got out of school, I faced a major writer's block, but I managed to get out a good lengthy chapter, no? Seriously, it's over 11,000 words. _ Funny thing is I was planning on making it longer. Well, I was gonna leave it off at a later part. Well I hope you enjoy this bit of my story. I was just glad I was able to show you all Maya and Inca's personalities. Questions? Comments? Please tell me them! :D