He And His Dog

chapter two

America blinked, staring right at Germany.

"The others?" He asked sceptically, "There's more of you guys here?"

"Ja," Germany diverted his gaze and half nodded, "More European countries. We have six of them here."

"Can I meet them already?" America questioned with enthusiasm, "I've talked to basically nobody in the last few years."

"Well, you'll be pleasantly surprised to hear there's more bases around here," Germany chuckled, "We're allied with the base with Asian countries like Japan and China, and we're allied with the Scandinavian camp."

"Allied?" America tilted his head, "Is there.. some kinda argument goin' on? If there is, then.. who's the 'bad guys'?"

"That'd be the Slavic countries," Germany shivered, "There's a lot of them, they own four camps and God, does the leader hate me."

"Who's the leader?" America couldn't stop asking questions; he was new to this whole thing, and hoped to help, "Because I mean, I'm not European, or Scandinavian, or Asian. I'm North American, and the rest who were like me are dead by now."

Germany hummed, "His name's Russia. Son of the USSR, or Soviet Union. Does that ring a bell?"

"Soviet Union does," America growled in a low voice, "That guy killed my siblings."

"I'm.. I'm sorry," Germany placed a hand on America's shoulder sympathetically, "Well, you don't need to worry about any 'bad guys' at this camp, although a few of us might've been 'bad guys' before."

America looked to Germany, up and down. He stopped scratching Oreo for a moment.

"A few of you?" America raised an eyebrow, "Who are you talking about, and who were you?"

"Spain is here," Germany started, "And Poland, Italy, Liechtenstein, Vatican City and Malta. Me and Italy were on the spectrum of bad ideas.."

"Who," America was demanding now, and as the much taller country, intimidated Germany.

"Italy, well," Germany threw out several useless words before sighing, "My father was - is - Nazi Germany. Third Reich. Italy worked with him in the second World War, but he changed sides so.. I guess he wasn't as bad.. ja.."

America pointed at Germany, speechless, then pointed to the bushes and pointed to several random things, making humming noises. It was obvious that he was either in shock or really confused. Maybe both.

"Don't get me wrong," America spoke up, "But why are you afraid of the other group if you're like.. the son of the Third Reich?"

"Because I don't fight," Germany shrugged, "That was his thing. I'm dedicated to keeping my group safe. I don't actually.. hurt people."

"Then what's with the gun?" America exclaimed, pushing his dark glasses up.

"This is a small town, ja?" Germany pointed out, "There was a shop. With guns. Very convenient, we do have bullets, but we don't use them. Only for hunting and protection."

Germany looked at America's backpack and saw a polished black shotgun.

"..And it seems that you have a weapon of your own," Germany added, gesturing to the gun. America froze, and nodded slowly.

"Yeah, like you said, for hunting," He explained in no rush, "I mean, I've been out on my own for years, so.."

Germany nodded. America huffed and scratched Oreo again, before Germany stood. America looked up.

"Do you want to meet the others, or..?" Germany trailed off, before America sprung up with a smirk on his face.

"Yeah, I'd love to!" He exclaimed, Oreo stood up, turning to stand at America's side.