Operation Red Herring (Countryhumans Alternate History)

Chapter 31

It was quiet in the base. Usually, Italy would have enjoyed that, but the reason for the silence ruined it entirely. His mouth tasted bitter, something he vaguely registered as dehydration. He knew that drinking water was the way to fix that, but instead sipped some more of his wine, the red substance sour as it stained his lips.

Sour.

Italy was almost surprised at how quickly everything went sour at the base. Only almost, because in reality he had been expecting it for months now, but it was almost surreal to actually have it all happen. Italy picked at his food, having no real appetite but knowing he probably should eat. He had been sustaining his sanity through wine, and starving himself was not a good companion to that.

He was alone now, as Third Reich was off at his monthly meeting with the USSR, and Japan was out in Berlin. She had said she was going to buy milk at the store, but Italy doubted it. They already had plenty of it in the fridge- probably too much, if he was being honest. He used it for sauces and such, but the main person who drank it was currently not leaving her room. It was probably expired by now, sour and only good for hoping that Third Reich would accidentally drink some.

He smiled slightly at the idea. Silently wishing harm to Third Reich was something he had been doing more and more frequently these past few months. Granted, if the milk situation did happen, Italy would probably be blamed for it, and that would not be as funny. Every since the incident a week ago with America, he had been much more irritable than usual (something Italy didn't know was possible). He was annoyed that America didn't 'understand' his 'artistic vision'. Which seemed odd, because the Third Reich had counted on America not understanding anything for such a long time. Then again, Italy wouldn't put it past him to take her reaction as an insult to his explanatory skills. Either way, he was irritated, and had decided that Italy was the perfect person to take this out on.

Now that America knew, he did not bother even attempting to hide the sadistic nature of his personality. Afterall, he blamed Italy for America's reaction as well, something about how he 'corrupted' her. It was utterly bizarre, but that did not stop him from calling Italy every insult imaginable, and throwing multiple objects at him during their more and more frequent arguments. Actually, argument was not the correct term- one-sided verbal assault would be more accurate, as Italy, in typical fashion, stayed quiet. He glanced back at the picture frame that had held a picture of the four of them. It was now on the ground, glass cracked after the book Third Reich threw at him that morning collided with it.

He hadn't bothered to pick it up yet. Afterall, no one was around but him to look at the broken mess, and he was too busy preparing to worry about it. Tonight was the night he was going to get out of here. It was as good of an opportunity as he could hope for- Third Reich would be a day's flight away and Japan would be busy running everything for him while he was gone.

There would not be anyone to stop him.

Italy had come up with the plan about two weeks ago, and was planning to make his escape in August, when Japan left for the pacific front for a few weeks, a trip that aligned with Third Reich's monthly meeting. Now that would have been the perfect opportunity.

But then everything imploded with America, and Third Reich started becoming more and more volatile. Because of this, Italy decided that he would have to move his plan up to tonight. It was less ideal, but it was necessary. The way things were going, Italy wouldn't be surprised if Third Reich seriously harmed him soon, and getting out of Germany with an injury would be substantially more difficult.

The plan was simple: Get to Sweden.

He would sneak out in the middle of the night, and steal the car. Then, he'd drive off towards the coast. That would be the most difficult part- navigating Nazi Germany with a bright tri-colored flag plastered across his face and a stolen vehicle. Italy planned to get to the coast before day-break to avoid most of the prying eyes. If anyone stopped him, he just prayed that word of his escape wouldn't travel until the morning so that he could use his supposed position in the Axis alliance as an excuse. Then once he arrived at the coast, he would stow-away on a boat to Sweden. He wasn't entirely sure what he would do once he arrived- it was even further away from his homeland, and once his absence was noticed, word of his escape would travel fast, and the search for him would begin. Perhaps he could just disappear into the Swedish countryside.