England had been in France plenty of times. Even though the majority of the time he was there for battle and fighting he always thought that France truly was a beautiful country ("As in the land," England promptly told Vietnam when he voiced his opinion. "He lives in a beautiful place, he himself isn't 'beautiful'".)
This trip wasn't the same. Sure, there was the same feeling of anticipated violence. Back then, England expected attacks from France. Right now, he expected doppelgangers to pop out of nowhere. But something about the atmosphere made the environment seem very eerie.
England heard from Germany that Japan was here in France as well but he was helping to evacuate the French, not look for the real France. The city they were in was very quiet and deserted; Japan must have already visited that particular city.
There were times where England could hear another set of footsteps. He would get a suspicious feeling and stop, telling Vietnam that they might be followed by someone.
Vietnam only shook her head. "Have you forgotten Canada is with us?" she asked.
England glanced behind them at Canada, who smiled at him shyly. Oh, yes. That was right; Canada was with them as well.
Vietnam sighed as England gaped at Canada. She didn't know why people kept on forgetting him; perhaps they were all so old they couldn't even remember. Honestly, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him; she was sometimes forgotten as well but not as much as he. "Come, let's go to France's house." she said, leading the way.
"Er, Vietnam, do you know the way?" England asked.
Vietnam slowed to a stop. She gave England a reluctant gaze before she nodded. "You don't remember, do you?" she asked quietly.
England looked away. "I don't want to remember." he muttered.
Vietnam nodded decisively and led the two around the city until they reached France's house. It was big and outrageously flamboyant. The high iron fence even had elaborate designs. England shook at the gates. They rattled but refused to open.
Canada tugged at them as well, saying, "Maybe we can scale?"
"We could but Vietna-" England started to say. He was cut off by a look from Vietnam. "What?"
"Don't you worry about me." she said, sounding slightly cold. "I'll be fine." She glanced up at the gate, jerked at it a little to make sure it really was locked, and then she slipped off her stilettos, muttering about how she couldn't find any other suitable shoes. With both her high heeled shoes in hand, she tossed them carelessly over the gate and they landed with a loud clack on the other side on the pavement.
Cracking her knuckles, she pressed her bare foot against one of the iron bars and gripped her hands around them. Vietnam pulled herself up, advancing upwards as quickly as possible before her hands start to slip. England and Canada watched her, prepared to catch her if she slipped and fell.
But she didn't and she swung her leg over the top of the gate and to England and Canada's alarm, jumped the rest of the way down.
She caught their expressions and a gave them a small frown. "I said don't worry about me." she scolded. "Now hurry up and climb over."
England and Canada were heaving themselves over the top of the gate while Vietnam slipped her feet back into her shoes. With the three over the gate, they cautiously approached the house. England's hand brushed by his gun, eager to draw it and aim if anything happened. Vietnam and Canada knew the house better than England and led, leaving England to back them up and make sure they weren't being followed.
The house was in ruins. The windows, upon closer inspection, had several spider web-like cracks running around the surface and gaping holes. A chandelier used to be high above the foyer but it rested pitifully in the middle, shattered glass littered around the room. With each step, they winced at the loud noise the glass made when they stepped on it. With the empty silence in the house, each small noise they made sounded as if someone took a microphone, stuck it in an amplifier, and held the mic down to their shoes.
"What the bloody hell happened here?" England muttered, nudging a broken vase away from the entrance to the living room.
Canada stepped over the broken vase and entered the living room. He was drawn to a bookcase at the opposite wall and bent over to peer at a few fallen picture frames. As he picked them up, brushing off the broken shards of glass, he realized that it was a picture of him and France a few decades ago. France had a happy look on his face as he embraced Canada, whose violet eyes gazed back at the camera mirroring the same happiness France had.
Touched, he turned over another picture frame to glance at it. It was a picture of Canada, smiling shyly. He didn't remember when it was taken but that didn't matter. Maybe he wasn't completely forgotten at all.
"What's that you got there, Canada?" England asked, coming up from behind to look over his shoulder.
"Ah, just some pictures." Canada said quietly. He propped them up along with the other broken ones of France and some women he didn't recognize. England watched as Canada fixed them neatly across the shelf of the bookcase.
"Where are you two?" Vietnam's voice called from the foyer.
"Ah, in here!" England called back.
Seconds later, Vietnam entered the living room. She threw a look around the room, suddenly tense. "I found something that might lead us to France." she said quickly. "Here, follow me." Vietnam hastily left the living room, leaving England to exchange a look with Canada.
The two were led to the second floor. The mess up there seemed even worse. All sorts of paintings had fallen and were slashed. England fingered a long narrow cut in a worn canvas and sincerely hoped that it wasn't the real deal and was instead a copy or fake. "Knowing France it probably isn't." he murmured to himself. "What a waste of art."
Canada stared at the torn wallpaper and then at the ripped up carpets. A few of the rails on the stairwell were broken and hacked away. He looked closer and saw that they weren't cut at all, but the edges were ragged as if a strong force broke through them as if they were toothpicks and not three inch thick pieces of polished wood.
"Look." Vietnam knelt down and pointed to a stain on the carpet. England and Canada crouched down and peered at the stain. "It's blood," Vietnam murmured. "And it left a small trail. I tracked it to here but I lost it."
She stood back up and pointed to a tiny line of blood a few feet away. England went to it and studied it intensely like Sherlock Holmes would. He felt like a detective, and now that he thought about it, it was like doing detective work. If only he had thought to bring a magnifying glass.
"No sign, is there?" Vietnam asked quietly.
England inspected the stain for a little while longer before shaking his head. "None at all. Why don't we split up and look for him? I can check this floor, Vietnam, you can search on the third floor, Canada, the ground floor-"
"Um..." Canada pursed his lips nervously.
"What is it?" England asked.
"Splitting up isn't the best idea, I don't think." he said, reddening. "What if something happens to one of us and no one else can hear the other in trouble. Then what would happen?"
England frowned. "Have you been watching horror movies with America or what? I doubt anything around here is too dangerous for any of us to handle. Canada, I know you have some strength so believe in yourself why don't you? Come on, let's go find the bloody bastard and get out of here."
Vietnam passed them without a word to go to the third and topmost floor and England backtracked to the very first door of the floor. Canada hesitated, but after the two were gone from his sight, he sighed and made his way back down, regretting watching all of those horror movies with his brother America.
England scowled, jostling the doorknob with such force that the door rattled. Despite that, the door refused to open for him and he had to step back and kick it down. At least kicking the door down did some good for him; it allowed him to vent out his anger without getting in trouble. If anyone complained he could use the 'I was looking for an important person and a silly door can't get in my way' excuse. Although it might not be credible enough if people knew his relationship with France; it was laughable that England would admit that France was an important country.
His kick sent the door flying back and the metal hinges even came off the door frame. Entering the room, England switched the lights on, his gun out and ready in case if anything jumped out. His heart leapt as the curtains at the window fluttered and he aimed his gun in that general direction. Slowly, he stepped to the window and flung the curtains back. "Got you, you little-" he started, but he faltered, seeing that he was catching the air conditioner red handed.
"Damnit." England cursed under his breath, sending watchful glances in the shadows of the room.
Deeming the room safe, England left the room and went to the next.
Meanwhile, Vietnam turned a doorknob on the third floor. Unlike the second floor's stubborn relation with England, the third floor took a liking to her and the door allowed her in. With a finger resting upon the trigger, Vietnam opened the door a crack, listening for any sudden movements. When she heard nothing, she dared to open the door a little wider, automatically aiming her gun around the room, sweeping it with her watchful eyes.
Nothing moved in the bathroom. A fresh scent of lilacs caused Vietnam to wrinkle her nose at the overload of the floral aroma. Turning the lights on, she threw back the shower curtains to discover she was empty handed. As a precaution, she also checked underneath the sinks and in the cabinets. Finding nothing, she left the bathroom.
In turn she opened each room on the third floor, looking for any places that would make good hiding spots. There were several bedrooms on the third floor and she always searched in the closets, in the beds, and under the beds. She would check the bathrooms inside the rooms if there was one and she was once suspicious of a wardrobe in one of the rooms and flung the doors open to reveal empty clothes hangers.
There was a library on the third floor and she strolled through the aisles, peering around every corner she came across.
She finished her search on the third floor, sighing. "Come to think of it there aren't any signs of struggle up here." she muttered, making her way back downstairs.
On the way down she ran into England kicking the door out of frustration. He scowled, "Isn't there a door here that isn't locked?"
Vietnam couldn't help but scan the other doors, all of them kicked off their hinges. "Are all the doors locked here?" she asked weakly, wondering what France could possibly hide in the rooms.
England proceeded to kick yet another door down. As the door tumbled over, he said, "All of them are locked. Can you believe my luck?"
Vietnam curiously turned to the door behind her and tried it. It opened easily and swung open. England stared at her. "The bloody hell..."
Though she rarely ever showed a genuine smile, Vietnam couldn't help but smile gently at him. "Maybe I'm lucky." she mused.
England had never seen her smile before; it was unexpected. Unsure of how to answer, he nodded and entered the room whose door he had kicked down. As always, there was nothing in particular that would lead them to France.
"Well he has to be somewhere around here." England sighed wearily. "The stains indicate that he was going in that direction. He can't possibly be downstairs, could he?"
Vietnam folded her arms, throwing a look downstairs. "Anything can happen. Let's go check on Canada then."
England blinked. Vietnam gave him a weary look. "You forgot, haven't you?"
England coughed. "Perhaps for a brief momen-" He pulled away from Vietnam who lightly karate chopped his head, giving him a fierce look of indifference.
"Come on then, let's go." she chided, descending the stairs. England followed her and they both stepped into the kitchen where they heard Canada talking to himself.
"This doesn't fit...maybe the bleeding stopped or something..." he was saying under his breath, looking back and forth from different places on the tile ground.
Canada crouched down and stayed there for a while. England cleared his throat and Canada jumped violently. "Ah, England! Vietnam! You scared me..." Canada breathed. Standing up, he stepped aside for them to take a look at what he was looking at. "Do you think this is vital information?" he asked them.
"More blood..." Vietnam murmured. "But it's just one big puddle with no trail. Where did it lead to? Where did it come from? Did someone have a fight here and somehow blood just-" She stopped and drew her gun at once in sync with England and Canada, turning to aim at-
Dark France.
In September of 1940, Vichy Indochina (Vietnam, Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia under French rule) allowed Japanese soldiers to be station in present-day Vietnam. Fighting broke out soon and the French started to retreat southwards. Due to the Germans invading Russia (the Soviet Union), they needed the Japanese to help them with the invasion but the Japanese were hesitant at first. Nazi Germany forced the French Vichy to allow Japan to station troops, build bases and forts, and have their own police system in Vietnam. They also got to have as much of Vietnam's rice, rubber, and minerals as they wanted and that encouraged them to declare war on Russia (the Soviet Union).
Technically, France 'signed' Vietnam off to Japan. In real life, I'm 100% sure they didn't do all of this in a few minutes in France's living room, but the background story for this chapter about Vietnam's discomfort in France's living room was that it was in there that she found out she was stripped her her rights and 'sold' to her brother Japan. I don't know about you but I'd be pretty upset and that room would have brought me bad memories.