Eo Locus

The Travel Seat

Refraction II: Trainee

America silently watched the short man. France's head was full of questions, he feels like exploding. Soon, the giant that the mysterious man landed on, rapidly turned into vapor and dust. Its bones were seen as it continuously turned into nothingness. Levi shot a sharp glare at the two.

"Who are you brats?" he said coolly.

France snapped at the man's attitude. "Hey! Watch your mouth you fucking bastard-" America covered France's mouth with his hand as he looked at the man apologetically.

"Sorry for this idiot's words-" he held his other free hand on his head and rubbed it.

France squirmed and bit his finger. America screamed in pain as he moved away his hand and nurse it.

France held a 'hmph!' before he growled at Levi angrily. "You know what? I am one of best country of the world yet you-" he stated proudly but was cut off by the man.

"You know what also?" Levi stated sarcastically. "I have no time for a spoiled brat like you. I suggest either you run or stay and be killed by the Titans. Take care of your partner, brat," he spat and left.

France stomped his feet on the ground angrily, like a spoilt child ignored by his formerly doting parents. America swore he would laugh if he was on different situation. But he was confused by the place the moment he regained his consciousness. And maybe France was too, but on the other hand, France chose to deal the current situation by his prideful self- his usual attitude used most of as far as America remembered.

America suddenly decided to follow that man- well whatever his name was, and fled out of the place, while grabbing France's hair as he ran.

"Where do you think you're going?!" France asked as he clutched his hair for it started to feel painful.

"Where you say? Out of this place," America replied.

"Where?! Do you think you will know how to get out of this crappy place by running?!" France shouted at the top of his lungs. America suddenly halted fervently as he realized that for once in his life, France was right.

"You know you surprise me in such rare times," America mumbled and thankfully, France didn't hear him.

America glanced around and saw some soldiers jumping out from the houses until he noticed a large crowd of people swarming together at a nearby, gigantic wall-gate. "I think that's the place!" America started to run again but this time, he was no longer holding France for he unexpectedly followed him.

Fifteen days have passed. Only a few among the people survived the attack. The food that was prepared for them, was all consumed. Everyone's in crisis. People are trap in guilt, sadness or either madness. Some where killing each other, and some killed themselves.

No food, no water.

France and America sat by a dark corner, near the stinky dam. America was doing his weird, unexplainable calling. France was mocking America for his idiot brains. Seems he was calling for an alien named Tony. But to no avail. They both lied down and sulked in.

"Hungary, I want some Turkey.." France muttered. America blinked confusedly.

"But that Austria's tomboy ex-wife ain't even here, and Greece's lover too," he told France.

France groaned in response. "You don't get it, don't you?" France asked.

"No."

"Can't you see it's an idiomatic expression? Idiot."

"Nah, I still don't get it," was America's simple response.

"Damn you.." France cursed him.

Another seven days had passed. The surviving crowds were used as bait into the weird giants. Only sobbing, angry children and some young adults are left. But the price of the crowds' sacrifice was what brought them enough food stock to last for more than two months.

"AHH! My hair, my body, MY BEAUTY! I'm dirty and smelly! This is worser than the July Revolution and in World War one and two!" he shouted, making a fuss.

"What do you mean by that? Don't you tell me you were cross-dressing fabulously, revolting your enemies?!" America shouted back. Silence engulfed to both of them.

.

.

.

"So that's the reason why you had no victories at all," America mumbled in disbelief as France glanced at him with a tear-eyed face. America sweat-dropped. Then the thought occurred to him.

"Wait, did England knew about this?" America asked as France just shrugged in response.

"How about the other countries?" he asked more as France shrugged again.

"Damn." America muttered cursedly.

Every survivor were evacuated to what they call the inner wall. The healthy ones where forced to join the military training. Then that is where it starts.

The hot, blazing sun pierced through their skin. They were wearing khaki pants and a brown jacket with a big symbol of two swords clashing. A higher ranking legion- the commander for the newbies, was testing the lined up trainees. America and France were far behind. They were many blonds and dark haired trainees. The commander were shouting and testing each trainee, except one particular man.

Munch. Munch. Munch. Chew.

Then the commander's attention shifted to a brunette girl who was currently eating a newly steamed potato. Everybody sweat-dropped at the girl when she had the courage to gave the commander an uneven share. The day was getting late as almost every trainee was staring at the window, looking over the running brunette.

The rest was chattering, discussing their future ranks. America and France were outside, observing the fireflies. Then three men entered in, bickering like they were very close friends. One man played at the bald man who is shorter than him.

"Kirschstein, stop! I said stop!" he complained.

"Now, now, we need to rest before the commander even notices us," a man with freckled spots calmly told the bickering two. He seems to have a gentle expression and an oozing kindness. Then the three noticed the two watching them intently.

"Hi," the freckled spotted man waved them a hand. America stared at the Kirschstein man before nudging France in the elbows. "Ow," France muttered.

"Doesn't that Kirschstein man looked somewhat like Prussia? Except the the hair and eyes though," he whispered to France. As France glanced back and forth to America and the Kirschstein man.

"Oi, what are you staring at?" Kirschstein gave him a glare. The freckled man just patted him and said, "Don't worry about him. It's his usual self. I'm Marco Brott by the way. What are your names if I may ask?"

"I'm Alfred Jones, and he is Francis Bonnefoy," America introduced him.

France leaned in and whispered to America, "That Marco looked a lot like Frederick of Prussia," America blinked. "Are you sure?" he asked him.

"Yes, I'm sure, I saw a glimpse of him when he was still young.. or was it his son?" France stated.

"Hey, what's your name, Kirschstein man?" America asked out loud.

The bald youth grunted and broke free of Kirschstein's hold. "His name is Jean." At the mentioning of the name, France held his breath and shifted uncomfortably. America noticed this, and he was about to ask when Kirschstein smacked the bald youth's head.

"You stated my name wrong! My name's pronounced as /Jon/, not /Jen/! Hear it? Jon!" he shouted out.

"Shut up or I well tell that attractive woman that you have feelings for her," the bald youth fought back.

"Damn you Connie Springer!" they chased around, leaving Marco, and the two countries.

France sighed in relief as the memories of a woman burned to death faded in his mind. He almost got himself suffocated. America suddenly turned away and stared at the darkened sky.

When will they get out from this mess? He thought out silently.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters here. Some may appear in real life's history but don't take it too seriously.