𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳. 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.
❆
Germany held onto his crutches as the train came to a stop. The distant sound of gunfire, and the smell of smoke greeted him. He staggered off the train, being careful with the blocks of cement littering the station ground.
Germany dusted off the black suit he wore, being careful not to open any patches. He hobbled down the war torn streets of France. Gaining many stares from the children. Almost all of them were barefoot, their cheeks stained with mud.
Many of them eyed his crutches.
They were worth a lot.
Germany continued to look forward, trying to ignore the wailing women. He glanced over to the Eifel tower. What was once an iconic symbol, was reduced to nothing but a pile of metal.
❆
Maybe it was a mistake to declare war on Russia. Maybe Germany could've talked it out. But at that point, all options were off the table.
It didn't take long for more countries to declare war after Germany and America. It felt good.
After a long linage of Germany's family being known as the bad guys, now he was actually helping.
Or so, that's what he thought.
Germany sat comfortably in his own home, sitting with America, France, England Austria, and Poland. They anticipated things to go smoothly. Believing that most of the world was on their side.
Finland crumbled weeks later, followed by Ukraine and Belarus then the three Baltic countries. Russia flew over the other countries dropping propaganda. Every week, there'd be a new missile test.
Poland started to become angry.
Just like the previous war, he was in the middle of everything. As the weeks went by, it became clear that Russia was planning for an invasion of all the countries bordering them.
"What are you going to do niemcy?! This is all your fault-"
"Polen, i tried to talk to him. Believe me I tried-"
"Well look where I fucking stand now!"
March 15th
Poland signed an agreement with Russia, letting him pass through with no trouble. This blew back Germany and the others, they were nervous.
Germany had no choice, but to get physically involved. He would feel the bullets fly by his head. Sometimes he wished they would hit him.
Germany remembered the exact moment the bomb went off. He remembered the morning smell of gunpowder. Nothing new, but the opposing side was awfully silent.
It went off.
He woke up, his legs numb and wrapped in copious amounts of bandages. Germany was given a private room, but that didn't block out the screams in the other rooms.
