Act I - Beginning of my Second Life
February 1923
Geneva, Switzerland
America's POV
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At the beginning of the Great War, I was in love, well, a form of love, with a married woman. At the end of the Great War, she was dead.
You see, this woman was the Russian Empire, and she'd been happily married to Serbia for quite some time, and the Austrian Empire before that. She loved Serbia just fine, but unbeknownst to him, she was not exactly "straight as a cannon barrel," as she proclaimed. I, on the other hand, hated the idea of marrying a man. And the idea of marriage all together, for that matter. The first European to treat me like a human being and not a savage native bitch was Prussia, and something that she preached was that crying is for wives. So naturally, I listened to her. Before the Russian Empire, I had only dated once, and that was a human woman during the Revolution, so naturally I was breaking the rules. As far as I know, however, no rules against such things existed back then.
They are of modern times.
But could I call it love, I wonder now, if the only thing I ever did with her was roll around between two sheets and then see her off back to her husband? She had been a crazy, crazy woman, after all.
Even so, the death of the Russian Empire, coupled with the prohibition laws put into place in the twenties, maximized my alcohol consumption. I've always had issues with alcohol, and I mark the interwar period as the second worst time for my alcoholism, the first being after the death of my brother.
The third thing that was going on was between myself and the Japanese Empire, who we simply addressed as Japan at the time. Modern D.C. is coated with cherry blossoms in the Spring, and this is because of him. He came to me in 1919, and he told me that he'd admired me for some time. He showered me with cherry trees, before finally requesting my hand in a relationship. In hindsight, my answer was a stupid decision , considering the war the eventually came about between us, but you must take into account my state of mind in 1919. The woman I had loved was dead, I was relapsing into my old addicted ways, and my already-good friend had asked me to date him. He had asked so nicely, with perfect manners. I didn't want to hurt his feelings anyway, or ruin our friendship. So I said yes.
In 1923, however, someone entered my life that would, in the end, change it forever.
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Now, many countries' problems with the Soviet Union started the second she entered the room. They tell me they didn't like the way she looked at them. Other countries' problems with her started later, when she made an agreement with that Fascist bitch. However, my issue with her started much, much later than you would be led to believe. My first encounter with the Soviet Union took place in Geneva, Switzerland. While I was not part of the League of Nations, the others often nagged me into attending their meetings, with the excuse of "making sure you know what's going on in the world." And you thought people nowadays think I'm an idiot.
Anyways, the year was 1923. I was sitting, slightly hungover, in one of the many general assembly chairs, listening to my allies rant.
"I'm just saying, he definitely needs to pay the price for it," that was France.
"I agree," and there was Britain, "his side are the aggressors, of course."
I grumbled under my breath.
"Didn't we already discuss these terms in the treaty? Besides, that was the poor boy's father, not him."
They'd been determined to fine the new German regime, Weimar Republic, for what his father did during the Great War.
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