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everythingismagicTitle: You Can't Take the Sky from Me [FF.NET Chapter Twenty-Two] [ Writing Journal Previous Chapters ]
Pairing: AmericaxEngland, PolandxLithuania, GermanyxItaly, SpainxRomano, Belarus---->Russia, PrussiaxSwitzerland. Future pairings: GreecexJapan, HungaryxAustria, SwedenxFinland
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama/Action+Adventure/Alternate Universe
Word Count: 3, 480
Summary: Ace Pilot America is on a mission for the World Military when a chance encounter with a group of Sky-Pirates leads him to team up with their captain, England, against a malevolent group that wants to fill the sky with zeppelins. [USxUK- Steampunk AU]
Chapter Summary: America cleared his throat, leaning forward as if telling a secret. “Ladies, are you at all familiar with the Kosmider?”
“Who isn’t?” Zimbabwe rolled her eyes and adjusted herself so her back was to the side of the stall. “We’re traveling merchants, take our wares to markets all around the world, but we’ve been stuck here for weeks ‘cause we don’t want to mess with them.”
America nodded. “Great!” He exclaimed. Zimbabwe leveled him a glare. “Not great that you’re stuck here, but great that you know about the Kosmider; because um, I’m actually here trying to find information about that.”
Author's Note: ...I really need to get better at these updates. I've had kind of a rough few months. Feeling a bit better now, and hopefully that will stay. I did get some beautiful fanarts, so I'm going to pimp them out for the well deserving artists! America/England by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
harlequinzombie, England by soubi_tatsumi, England by kia-namida, America's Crew (America, Japan, Canada, France) by Brainiac6Techgirl, America by luvpixel. Please let these artists know how amazing they are if you have the time. :D
Even the most ‘discreet’ part of the Babako was brimming with activity. Men and women carried boxes of wares, preparing to display them at their stores and stands. Several groups of people were leaning against the back of creaky wooden buildings and stands that made up the market, chatting amongst each other, often with cigarettes dangling from their mouths or a mid-day snack or meal in their hands. There was loud music, courtesy of a record player that was turned up to its capacity, and there were ships of all types docked, from derelict old wooden ships to newer, more streamlined vessels. A few small cargo planes took up residence behind the Babako as well. America hopped out of his cockpit, Belgium having exited before him.
Several meters away, he heard Japan wheeze in relief as his passenger stepped out of the plane. He was indeed, enormous, and America felt a pang of pity for his friend. Then again, if France had taken Netherlands… well, maybe Japan was the better option. Japan slid out of the cockpit, and walked over with France and Netherlands flanking him. “Where to, Captain?”
America glanced around, not failing to notice the fact that much of the crowd had stopped what they were doing to whisper amongst each other about the three military planes. There was no doubt that a place such as this had some merchants who hawked black market wares, but as much as that may have been true, it wasn’t what they were after today. He ignored the chatter and smiled at Japan. “Give me a minute, okay? Then we’ll get out into the market and see what we can do.”
Japan nodded. America gave him a thumb up and gently prodded Belgium in the back. “Hey, I’m gonna talk to you before we leave you, ‘kay?”
“Sure thing.”
America escorted her to the edge of the market, leaning against a tall wooden beam once he’d reached a place secluded enough to converse with her privately. He bit his lip. “I just wanted to…” He glanced down at his feet, tipping them back and forth. “I wanted to make sure you’re going to be all right.”
Belgium smiled softly. “Thanks for worryin’ about us. My brother and I will be fine. I imagine we’ll be staying with my little sister, ya know? She’s not part of our trade, but she’s always there for us.”
“Your sister?”
“Luxembourg is her name, and she don’t live that far from here, actually. Some of the stores here have got telephones. We’ll get everything sorted out. I’ll miss Elegast with all my heart, but she went down fightin’.”
America smiled, looking up now. “Great, that’s great.”
“The skies aren’t rid of us yet though,” Belgium’s smile grew as she glanced up at the cloudy blue above her. “Once it’s safe, I’ll be takin’ myself back in the sky even if all I can get is a dingy.” She winked. “Then I’ll steal enough so I can get myself a new ship, and the crew of the Elegast will fly again!”
There was a part of America that wanted to berate her, tell her to give up piracy and engage in something more heroic. But her enthusiasm, and the way she gazed at the sky, instead caused him to respond simply with “That’s awesome.” Surprised by the words that had left his mouth, he faked a laugh. “But of course you really have the hero to thank for all of this! That’s me, so remember that!”
Belgium chuckled. “I won’t forget.” America nodded mutely. “I’m a lot more worried about you, ya know? You silly brave boy.”
“I’ll be fine!”
“Yeah yeah, hero and all. But if you’re gonna go around rescuin’ pirates, ya gotta be prepared to face the Kosmider. They’re tough as nails.”
America shook his head in the positive and leveled her a look, completely serious. “I know. I’m ready to do what I have to do.”
“Then good luck.” She held out her hand, which America hesitated for a moment before grasping and shaking it. “And good luck with Kirkland too! If ya ever need to get a hold of me, he should be able to find a way.”
“I-I don’t need luck with England!” America gestured with his hands in front of him.
Belgium laughed, loud and warm. “You’re adorable, hero.” She leaned up, pressing a quick, friendly kiss to his cheek. His blue eyes widened and he gaped, as Belgium walked away with a wink and an impish smile.
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The marketplace itself was also filled to the brim with color, sound, and motion. Street musicians played, merchants yelled over each other, in attempt to draw potential customers to their wares. Nooked in corners and between buildings, small booths were set up to sell what America assumed to be illegal items. Against a wall in one of these corners, he spotted a gaggle of men and women, chatting amongst each other. They shirked backwards upon spotting the trio of military men, whispering amongst each other in panic. France leaned over to America’s ear, almost brushing it, and he could feel the other man’s lips curl up in a devious smile. “We’re a bit of an anomaly in this market, oui?”
“France, are those…?”
“They sell all means of illegal items here, America,” France explained, speaking loud enough that Japan could also hear. “Drugs,” he paused, gesturing to the group in the corner, “sex…”
America’s cheeks flushed at this, and Japan let out a gasp. “How did I get two people like you in my unit, honestly? I say ‘sex,’ and you’re horrified.” He shrugged.
America bit his lip. “Shut up, France. I’m just not gross like you.” He stopped in his tracks and turned to face his two men, hands on his hips. “All right, we’re gonna split up, okay? Now that me and Japan have seen the lay of the market...”
They’d been walking around the market for several minutes, and it was, admittedly, not as large as America had expected. It wasn’t for lack of booths and merchants and stores. Instead, it was just so jam packed with people, buildings, and stands, that America suspected that if he wasn’t careful, his quiet and petite sergeant might just get trampled. He frowned for a moment, but then smiled and pointed enthusiastically at France. “You go wherever. I don’t know what you’re planning, and I don’t want to. Just try to get information! Remember; meet at the planes in an hour.”
France shrugged, chuckling, “Very well then. I believe I saw my friend Monaco walking around. I’ll arrange a chat with her.” He winked, giving a coy half salute as he walked away.
America snorted. “Friend, yeah right.” He gestured to Japan. “You take the left side of the market, okay? Just try to corner people and… I don’t know. Look for people who might know something. I know this mission isn’t very awesome anymore, but we’ve at least got to try. We can’t let the General down!”
Japan nodded resolutely. “Right, America.”
“Left side of the market then, all right?” Japan saluted and departed, leaving America alone.
America glanced around, wondering where to start. At this moment, he was wishing that he hadn’t sent Belgium and Netherlands off yet. He was sure that they were somewhere in the market still, maybe using a phone in attempt to get in touch with Luxembourg, but it was so ridiculously crowded that he didn’t hold out much hope of finding them. It was just… they might have had an idea of who to talk to?
He crinkled his nose. God, this place was dirty. Dust rose underneath his feet, and the sheer volume of people made it smell something awful. He shook his head, beginning to walk right, down the length of the market. He had a brief thought, that this must be the kind of place pirates frequent often.
England came to places like this then? He had trouble imagining the pirate withstanding a market like this, all cacophonic and grimy and full of unheroic activities. It wasn’t the part about not being heroic, but the fact that the England he knew was a neat freak and he had this hilarious mental image of him gasping in horror and chagrin at the state of the Babako.
America stopped walking and contemplated his next move, surveying the various stalls and considering which ones would be best to approach and how to approach them. He was paused in front of a duo of young women running a stall, hawking crafts and jewelry that America could tell from a brief glance came from Imbube; wooden statues and astoundingly detailed beadwork and colorful baskets and bags, being just a few of the items on display.
One of the women seemed to have noticed America’s surveying of their booth, because she smiled widely and waved at him. “Hello soldier boy!” She called out. “Not often we see someone like you here.”
She was excessively pretty, tall with dark skin and short cropped hair, and her stall mate wasn’t bad either, with her reddish-black hair pulled back in a relaxed ponytail. America shrugged inwardly and approached them. Well why not?
“Hi!” He waved back, smiling wide.
“Care to buy something, perhaps for a sweetheart?” The other woman winked, gesturing toward a table of jewelry.
America laughed. “Ah, uhh… well…” He paused awkwardly. “I’m Captain Jones, nice to meet you two.” He held out a hand, and the taller woman took it first.
“Zimbabwe, and this is my partner, Kenya.” She leaned sideways against the wall of the stall. “You got something you want with us?”
“What makes you think that?”
Zimbabwe shrugged. “It’s just a little unusual to walk up to a merchant and introduce yourself with a handshake.”
Kenya rested her arms behind her head. “Captain, we only sell legitimate goods here, so there’s nothing for you to find if you’re looking.”
America blinked. “Oh!” He waved his hands in front of him. “Wow uh, no! That’s not what I’m here for at all. I mean I am on a mission, but it’s got nothing to do with shutting down merchants or whatever.” He scratched his cheek. “Of course if you are doing anything illegal, that’s totally unheroic so you should stop but…”
“What kind of mission do you want to talk to us for then?” Kenya cocked an eyebrow, grabbing a bottle of soda off one of the tables and taking a sip.
America cleared his throat, leaning forward as if telling a secret. “Ladies, are you at all familiar with the Kosmider?”
“Who isn’t?” Zimbabwe rolled her eyes and adjusted herself so her back was to the side of the stall. “We’re traveling merchants, take our wares to markets all around the world, but we’ve been stuck here for weeks ‘cause we don’t want to mess with them.”
America nodded. “Great!” He exclaimed. Zimbabwe leveled him a glare. “Not great that you’re stuck here, but great that you know about the Kosmider; because um, I’m actually here trying to find information about that.”
Kenya was sitting down now in a wooden chair, her head rolled back and a frown on her face. “It really sucks. Usually we dock at tourist spots. It’s a lot easier to sell crafts there, but we figured why not try the Babako out? It’s a pretty famous place.” She took another swig of her soda. “But lately it’s been a pit.”
“You mean it isn’t always like this?” America queried.
Zimbabwe snorted. “Do you think we would have come here if that were the case? It’s such a mess because merchants aren’t leaving. A lot of people aren’t leaving. The inns are packed to the brim, and everyone is scared to get up in the sky again.”
“But I heard that this place was kind of… seedy?” He glanced around, shifting uncomfortably.
Kenya chuckled. “No seedier than any other market of this type. There’s a lot going on in the alleys, but you’ll find that in a lot of places like this. Lately it’s been worse, but that’s because there are so many damn people, so obviously the back alley dealers are going to exploit that.”
“But a lot of people probably means you’re making a lot of money, right?” America offered, an optimistic smile on his face.
“No way. Merchants who sell food and other necessities are having a field day with this, so are the black market dealers, but people like us?” Kenya sighed. “No one is here to buy souvenirs right now,” she finished.
“They’re here because it’s a safe place to be,” Zimbabwe added, crossing her arms. “People are still trying; merchants and street performers, because what else can we do? Go up in the sky and get killed? Pass.” She scowled.
America’s smile fell. “Hey uh… well… do you know anything about the Kosmider?”
Kenya bit her lip in thought. “They’ve been in this area before. I heard about a zeppelin spotting not more than three or four days ago,” she began. “There was a merchant ship attacked about a week after we arrived here, which is when we decided to stay.”
Zimbabwe placed a hand on her hip. “Don’t forget, there have also been rumors that Kosmider members have scouted the marketplace.”
America’s eyes widened. “R-really?”
She nodded. “If you believe the gossip, the Kosmider has ears everywhere,” she continued, “the merchant trade, the military, you name it.”
“Hey wait, you don’t think I’m--- “
“A spy?” Zimbabwe interrupted. “Nah, I don’t. Or if you are, you’re a pretty shitty one.”
“Wha—“
“I just mean that an actual spy would be a lot subtler than you,” she clarified. “But in truth, we don’t know much of anything else.”
“We’re sorry we can’t be of much help,” Kenya said. “Honestly, I do wish you luck. The sooner they’re knocked out of the sky, the better for all of us.”
America shook his head in the positive. “That’s my job! I’m going to make sure they’re taken care of.”
“Wonderful,” Zimbabwe replied. She sauntered over to the table of jewelry and placed her hand on it. “Getting back to business though, do you care to buy something, perhaps for a sweetheart?”
America flushed at this. He wanted to say no, because he didn’t have much money in his pocket, and it’s not like he had anyone to buy anything for—he totally didn’t at all. But they had been kind to him and discussed the Kosmider with him openly, despite the potential risk. And according to them, they weren’t making much money right now, which had to suck. “I… don’t really have a sweetheart right now?”
Kenya laughed. “Are you sure? You turned bright red when we asked you.” America cursed inwardly, tired of his cheeks betraying him.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and stepped toward the table to survey the jewelry. He’d just pick something out to appease them, because that was the heroic thing to do. He quickly skimmed over anything that looked overtly feminine. He didn’t have a girl back home to give it to, and if he did end up giving it to anyone it would be--- he willed another blush down and shook his head.
Eventually his eyes settled on one particular necklace. It had a black rope chain, several pale blue wooden beads, and a bone pendant, tear drop shaped and painted a brighter blue.
Blue. Blue was a nice color.
“I’ll take this one.” He handed it to Zimbabwe and she smiled.
“Good choice. That will be twenty-five shillings.”
America sighed in relief. Good, he had enough to cover it. He reached in the pocket of his bomber jacket and pulled out the money, handing it to her and taking the necklace in exchange. She’d wrapped it in tissue paper and a small bag for him.
He beamed at both of them, saluting casually. “Thanks a lot, ladies,” he paused, “You’ll be back in the sky soon, I promise.”
Kenya chuckled again. “If you say so, Captain Jones.”
Zimbabwe waved goodbye. “We’ll be expecting you to make good on that promise then,” she shouted as he walked away.
America turned around and yelled back. “I will!” He pivoted away once again and fingered the small gift bag in his pants pocket. He took a deep breath. Okay, so it hadn’t been awesomely successful, but he’d at least found out a couple of things! Maybe they wouldn’t be that useful, but it wasn’t a complete loss. He glanced at the merchants with a newfound sympathy, hoping that soon, he’d be able to help them get back in the sky. So caught up in his own thoughts was he, that he almost didn’t notice when he ran smack dab into someone.
Cursing inwardly, because it sort of hurt, he glanced down to see a mop of sandy blonde hair, the top of which barely hit America’s mid chest. A small boy, no older than fifteen (and that was being very generous), looked up at him, violet eyes wide and body trembling.
“Hey, it’s okay,” America said genially, because the poor boy looked as if he were about to crumple to his knees. “I didn’t mean to. Sorry, did it hurt?”
The boy shook his head. “N-not at all, sir,” he spoke. His accent was thick, so thick in fact, that in the loud din of the Babako, America had difficulty understanding him. “I was just on my way.”
“You’re shaking.” His blue eyes were wide and guilty. “You sure you aren’t hurt at all?”
He nodded, resolutely, his quakes ceasing. “I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.” And much to America’s bewilderment, he forcefully pushed past America and ran, fast as he could manage, through the crowds of the Babako. Within moments, the crowds had shifted and he was completely out of sight.
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England gazed up at the sky from the front deck of his ship, restless with anticipation. Today they’d take to the sky again. Minutes from now even, they’d be departing. It had been four days since America had left, and three days since he’d told his crew to prepare to leave soon. If he’d had his way, they would have left that very day. This island was beautiful, but he was aching, practically hurting in his need to be back in the air. Almost two weeks away from it was far too long.
And the sooner he got back in the sky, the sooner he’d perhaps be able to meet up with America. He felt a small smile grace his features. America had told him it was to be a ‘date,’ although England half considered that knowing America and his oblivious manner, he probably didn’t even realize that he said it. Be rational, he often told himself. Don’t get your hopes up too high.
“Everyone’s ready to cast off, England,” Australia had come up behind him, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.
“Oh? Excellent then.” He nodded firmly at him. “I can’t thank you enough for having us, Australia. It was greatly appreciated.”
Australia laughed lightly. “That’s what mates do, help each other out.”
England’s lips quirked up in a half smile. “Indeed they do.” He proffered his hand, and Australia took it, shaking it warmly.
“See you again then?”
“Of course,” England replied, not missing a beat.
Australia shrugged. “It’s just… blimey, it’s crazy out there. Radio me if you ever need help, all right?”
England leveled him a serious look. “I will. Please take care of yourself then.”
“I always do.” He turned around and waved goodbye, but pivoted halfway and smirked once he was several meters away. “And good luck with America, right?”
England’s face bloomed red. “T-thank you.”
Australia jogged off the ship and waved goodbye from the beach. Under England’s feet, the steam engines came to life. Prussia would be down in the bowels of the ship making sure everything was working to order, and Switzerland was nearby at the wheel, preparing for duty. Spain and Romano were watching the sails. Sealand and Liechtenstein were below deck. Steam began puffing out of the exhaust pipe that rose in the middle of the ship, and England smiled as he felt it begin to lift out of the water.
England ran over to join Switzerland, taking the wheel from his hands and guiding the Victoria upwards into the air, the wind catching the sails as it took flight, and after several minutes, reached the desired latitude and leveled out.
He glanced over the side of the ship, at the vivid teal of the sea below. Then he looked up, at the spacious blue of the sky above. England exhaled deeply and closed his eyes, the cool breeze washing over his face.
Pairing: AmericaxEngland, PolandxLithuania, GermanyxItaly, SpainxRomano, Belarus---->Russia, PrussiaxSwitzerland. Future pairings: GreecexJapan, HungaryxAustria, SwedenxFinland
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama/Action+Adventure/Alternate Universe
Word Count: 3, 480
Summary: Ace Pilot America is on a mission for the World Military when a chance encounter with a group of Sky-Pirates leads him to team up with their captain, England, against a malevolent group that wants to fill the sky with zeppelins. [USxUK- Steampunk AU]
Chapter Summary: America cleared his throat, leaning forward as if telling a secret. “Ladies, are you at all familiar with the Kosmider?”
“Who isn’t?” Zimbabwe rolled her eyes and adjusted herself so her back was to the side of the stall. “We’re traveling merchants, take our wares to markets all around the world, but we’ve been stuck here for weeks ‘cause we don’t want to mess with them.”
America nodded. “Great!” He exclaimed. Zimbabwe leveled him a glare. “Not great that you’re stuck here, but great that you know about the Kosmider; because um, I’m actually here trying to find information about that.”
Author's Note: ...I really need to get better at these updates. I've had kind of a rough few months. Feeling a bit better now, and hopefully that will stay. I did get some beautiful fanarts, so I'm going to pimp them out for the well deserving artists! America/England by
harlequinzombie, England by soubi_tatsumi, England by kia-namida, America's Crew (America, Japan, Canada, France) by Brainiac6Techgirl, America by luvpixel. Please let these artists know how amazing they are if you have the time. :D Even the most ‘discreet’ part of the Babako was brimming with activity. Men and women carried boxes of wares, preparing to display them at their stores and stands. Several groups of people were leaning against the back of creaky wooden buildings and stands that made up the market, chatting amongst each other, often with cigarettes dangling from their mouths or a mid-day snack or meal in their hands. There was loud music, courtesy of a record player that was turned up to its capacity, and there were ships of all types docked, from derelict old wooden ships to newer, more streamlined vessels. A few small cargo planes took up residence behind the Babako as well. America hopped out of his cockpit, Belgium having exited before him.
Several meters away, he heard Japan wheeze in relief as his passenger stepped out of the plane. He was indeed, enormous, and America felt a pang of pity for his friend. Then again, if France had taken Netherlands… well, maybe Japan was the better option. Japan slid out of the cockpit, and walked over with France and Netherlands flanking him. “Where to, Captain?”
America glanced around, not failing to notice the fact that much of the crowd had stopped what they were doing to whisper amongst each other about the three military planes. There was no doubt that a place such as this had some merchants who hawked black market wares, but as much as that may have been true, it wasn’t what they were after today. He ignored the chatter and smiled at Japan. “Give me a minute, okay? Then we’ll get out into the market and see what we can do.”
Japan nodded. America gave him a thumb up and gently prodded Belgium in the back. “Hey, I’m gonna talk to you before we leave you, ‘kay?”
“Sure thing.”
America escorted her to the edge of the market, leaning against a tall wooden beam once he’d reached a place secluded enough to converse with her privately. He bit his lip. “I just wanted to…” He glanced down at his feet, tipping them back and forth. “I wanted to make sure you’re going to be all right.”
Belgium smiled softly. “Thanks for worryin’ about us. My brother and I will be fine. I imagine we’ll be staying with my little sister, ya know? She’s not part of our trade, but she’s always there for us.”
“Your sister?”
“Luxembourg is her name, and she don’t live that far from here, actually. Some of the stores here have got telephones. We’ll get everything sorted out. I’ll miss Elegast with all my heart, but she went down fightin’.”
America smiled, looking up now. “Great, that’s great.”
“The skies aren’t rid of us yet though,” Belgium’s smile grew as she glanced up at the cloudy blue above her. “Once it’s safe, I’ll be takin’ myself back in the sky even if all I can get is a dingy.” She winked. “Then I’ll steal enough so I can get myself a new ship, and the crew of the Elegast will fly again!”
There was a part of America that wanted to berate her, tell her to give up piracy and engage in something more heroic. But her enthusiasm, and the way she gazed at the sky, instead caused him to respond simply with “That’s awesome.” Surprised by the words that had left his mouth, he faked a laugh. “But of course you really have the hero to thank for all of this! That’s me, so remember that!”
Belgium chuckled. “I won’t forget.” America nodded mutely. “I’m a lot more worried about you, ya know? You silly brave boy.”
“I’ll be fine!”
“Yeah yeah, hero and all. But if you’re gonna go around rescuin’ pirates, ya gotta be prepared to face the Kosmider. They’re tough as nails.”
America shook his head in the positive and leveled her a look, completely serious. “I know. I’m ready to do what I have to do.”
“Then good luck.” She held out her hand, which America hesitated for a moment before grasping and shaking it. “And good luck with Kirkland too! If ya ever need to get a hold of me, he should be able to find a way.”
“I-I don’t need luck with England!” America gestured with his hands in front of him.
Belgium laughed, loud and warm. “You’re adorable, hero.” She leaned up, pressing a quick, friendly kiss to his cheek. His blue eyes widened and he gaped, as Belgium walked away with a wink and an impish smile.
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The marketplace itself was also filled to the brim with color, sound, and motion. Street musicians played, merchants yelled over each other, in attempt to draw potential customers to their wares. Nooked in corners and between buildings, small booths were set up to sell what America assumed to be illegal items. Against a wall in one of these corners, he spotted a gaggle of men and women, chatting amongst each other. They shirked backwards upon spotting the trio of military men, whispering amongst each other in panic. France leaned over to America’s ear, almost brushing it, and he could feel the other man’s lips curl up in a devious smile. “We’re a bit of an anomaly in this market, oui?”
“France, are those…?”
“They sell all means of illegal items here, America,” France explained, speaking loud enough that Japan could also hear. “Drugs,” he paused, gesturing to the group in the corner, “sex…”
America’s cheeks flushed at this, and Japan let out a gasp. “How did I get two people like you in my unit, honestly? I say ‘sex,’ and you’re horrified.” He shrugged.
America bit his lip. “Shut up, France. I’m just not gross like you.” He stopped in his tracks and turned to face his two men, hands on his hips. “All right, we’re gonna split up, okay? Now that me and Japan have seen the lay of the market...”
They’d been walking around the market for several minutes, and it was, admittedly, not as large as America had expected. It wasn’t for lack of booths and merchants and stores. Instead, it was just so jam packed with people, buildings, and stands, that America suspected that if he wasn’t careful, his quiet and petite sergeant might just get trampled. He frowned for a moment, but then smiled and pointed enthusiastically at France. “You go wherever. I don’t know what you’re planning, and I don’t want to. Just try to get information! Remember; meet at the planes in an hour.”
France shrugged, chuckling, “Very well then. I believe I saw my friend Monaco walking around. I’ll arrange a chat with her.” He winked, giving a coy half salute as he walked away.
America snorted. “Friend, yeah right.” He gestured to Japan. “You take the left side of the market, okay? Just try to corner people and… I don’t know. Look for people who might know something. I know this mission isn’t very awesome anymore, but we’ve at least got to try. We can’t let the General down!”
Japan nodded resolutely. “Right, America.”
“Left side of the market then, all right?” Japan saluted and departed, leaving America alone.
America glanced around, wondering where to start. At this moment, he was wishing that he hadn’t sent Belgium and Netherlands off yet. He was sure that they were somewhere in the market still, maybe using a phone in attempt to get in touch with Luxembourg, but it was so ridiculously crowded that he didn’t hold out much hope of finding them. It was just… they might have had an idea of who to talk to?
He crinkled his nose. God, this place was dirty. Dust rose underneath his feet, and the sheer volume of people made it smell something awful. He shook his head, beginning to walk right, down the length of the market. He had a brief thought, that this must be the kind of place pirates frequent often.
England came to places like this then? He had trouble imagining the pirate withstanding a market like this, all cacophonic and grimy and full of unheroic activities. It wasn’t the part about not being heroic, but the fact that the England he knew was a neat freak and he had this hilarious mental image of him gasping in horror and chagrin at the state of the Babako.
America stopped walking and contemplated his next move, surveying the various stalls and considering which ones would be best to approach and how to approach them. He was paused in front of a duo of young women running a stall, hawking crafts and jewelry that America could tell from a brief glance came from Imbube; wooden statues and astoundingly detailed beadwork and colorful baskets and bags, being just a few of the items on display.
One of the women seemed to have noticed America’s surveying of their booth, because she smiled widely and waved at him. “Hello soldier boy!” She called out. “Not often we see someone like you here.”
She was excessively pretty, tall with dark skin and short cropped hair, and her stall mate wasn’t bad either, with her reddish-black hair pulled back in a relaxed ponytail. America shrugged inwardly and approached them. Well why not?
“Hi!” He waved back, smiling wide.
“Care to buy something, perhaps for a sweetheart?” The other woman winked, gesturing toward a table of jewelry.
America laughed. “Ah, uhh… well…” He paused awkwardly. “I’m Captain Jones, nice to meet you two.” He held out a hand, and the taller woman took it first.
“Zimbabwe, and this is my partner, Kenya.” She leaned sideways against the wall of the stall. “You got something you want with us?”
“What makes you think that?”
Zimbabwe shrugged. “It’s just a little unusual to walk up to a merchant and introduce yourself with a handshake.”
Kenya rested her arms behind her head. “Captain, we only sell legitimate goods here, so there’s nothing for you to find if you’re looking.”
America blinked. “Oh!” He waved his hands in front of him. “Wow uh, no! That’s not what I’m here for at all. I mean I am on a mission, but it’s got nothing to do with shutting down merchants or whatever.” He scratched his cheek. “Of course if you are doing anything illegal, that’s totally unheroic so you should stop but…”
“What kind of mission do you want to talk to us for then?” Kenya cocked an eyebrow, grabbing a bottle of soda off one of the tables and taking a sip.
America cleared his throat, leaning forward as if telling a secret. “Ladies, are you at all familiar with the Kosmider?”
“Who isn’t?” Zimbabwe rolled her eyes and adjusted herself so her back was to the side of the stall. “We’re traveling merchants, take our wares to markets all around the world, but we’ve been stuck here for weeks ‘cause we don’t want to mess with them.”
America nodded. “Great!” He exclaimed. Zimbabwe leveled him a glare. “Not great that you’re stuck here, but great that you know about the Kosmider; because um, I’m actually here trying to find information about that.”
Kenya was sitting down now in a wooden chair, her head rolled back and a frown on her face. “It really sucks. Usually we dock at tourist spots. It’s a lot easier to sell crafts there, but we figured why not try the Babako out? It’s a pretty famous place.” She took another swig of her soda. “But lately it’s been a pit.”
“You mean it isn’t always like this?” America queried.
Zimbabwe snorted. “Do you think we would have come here if that were the case? It’s such a mess because merchants aren’t leaving. A lot of people aren’t leaving. The inns are packed to the brim, and everyone is scared to get up in the sky again.”
“But I heard that this place was kind of… seedy?” He glanced around, shifting uncomfortably.
Kenya chuckled. “No seedier than any other market of this type. There’s a lot going on in the alleys, but you’ll find that in a lot of places like this. Lately it’s been worse, but that’s because there are so many damn people, so obviously the back alley dealers are going to exploit that.”
“But a lot of people probably means you’re making a lot of money, right?” America offered, an optimistic smile on his face.
“No way. Merchants who sell food and other necessities are having a field day with this, so are the black market dealers, but people like us?” Kenya sighed. “No one is here to buy souvenirs right now,” she finished.
“They’re here because it’s a safe place to be,” Zimbabwe added, crossing her arms. “People are still trying; merchants and street performers, because what else can we do? Go up in the sky and get killed? Pass.” She scowled.
America’s smile fell. “Hey uh… well… do you know anything about the Kosmider?”
Kenya bit her lip in thought. “They’ve been in this area before. I heard about a zeppelin spotting not more than three or four days ago,” she began. “There was a merchant ship attacked about a week after we arrived here, which is when we decided to stay.”
Zimbabwe placed a hand on her hip. “Don’t forget, there have also been rumors that Kosmider members have scouted the marketplace.”
America’s eyes widened. “R-really?”
She nodded. “If you believe the gossip, the Kosmider has ears everywhere,” she continued, “the merchant trade, the military, you name it.”
“Hey wait, you don’t think I’m--- “
“A spy?” Zimbabwe interrupted. “Nah, I don’t. Or if you are, you’re a pretty shitty one.”
“Wha—“
“I just mean that an actual spy would be a lot subtler than you,” she clarified. “But in truth, we don’t know much of anything else.”
“We’re sorry we can’t be of much help,” Kenya said. “Honestly, I do wish you luck. The sooner they’re knocked out of the sky, the better for all of us.”
America shook his head in the positive. “That’s my job! I’m going to make sure they’re taken care of.”
“Wonderful,” Zimbabwe replied. She sauntered over to the table of jewelry and placed her hand on it. “Getting back to business though, do you care to buy something, perhaps for a sweetheart?”
America flushed at this. He wanted to say no, because he didn’t have much money in his pocket, and it’s not like he had anyone to buy anything for—he totally didn’t at all. But they had been kind to him and discussed the Kosmider with him openly, despite the potential risk. And according to them, they weren’t making much money right now, which had to suck. “I… don’t really have a sweetheart right now?”
Kenya laughed. “Are you sure? You turned bright red when we asked you.” America cursed inwardly, tired of his cheeks betraying him.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and stepped toward the table to survey the jewelry. He’d just pick something out to appease them, because that was the heroic thing to do. He quickly skimmed over anything that looked overtly feminine. He didn’t have a girl back home to give it to, and if he did end up giving it to anyone it would be--- he willed another blush down and shook his head.
Eventually his eyes settled on one particular necklace. It had a black rope chain, several pale blue wooden beads, and a bone pendant, tear drop shaped and painted a brighter blue.
Blue. Blue was a nice color.
“I’ll take this one.” He handed it to Zimbabwe and she smiled.
“Good choice. That will be twenty-five shillings.”
America sighed in relief. Good, he had enough to cover it. He reached in the pocket of his bomber jacket and pulled out the money, handing it to her and taking the necklace in exchange. She’d wrapped it in tissue paper and a small bag for him.
He beamed at both of them, saluting casually. “Thanks a lot, ladies,” he paused, “You’ll be back in the sky soon, I promise.”
Kenya chuckled again. “If you say so, Captain Jones.”
Zimbabwe waved goodbye. “We’ll be expecting you to make good on that promise then,” she shouted as he walked away.
America turned around and yelled back. “I will!” He pivoted away once again and fingered the small gift bag in his pants pocket. He took a deep breath. Okay, so it hadn’t been awesomely successful, but he’d at least found out a couple of things! Maybe they wouldn’t be that useful, but it wasn’t a complete loss. He glanced at the merchants with a newfound sympathy, hoping that soon, he’d be able to help them get back in the sky. So caught up in his own thoughts was he, that he almost didn’t notice when he ran smack dab into someone.
Cursing inwardly, because it sort of hurt, he glanced down to see a mop of sandy blonde hair, the top of which barely hit America’s mid chest. A small boy, no older than fifteen (and that was being very generous), looked up at him, violet eyes wide and body trembling.
“Hey, it’s okay,” America said genially, because the poor boy looked as if he were about to crumple to his knees. “I didn’t mean to. Sorry, did it hurt?”
The boy shook his head. “N-not at all, sir,” he spoke. His accent was thick, so thick in fact, that in the loud din of the Babako, America had difficulty understanding him. “I was just on my way.”
“You’re shaking.” His blue eyes were wide and guilty. “You sure you aren’t hurt at all?”
He nodded, resolutely, his quakes ceasing. “I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.” And much to America’s bewilderment, he forcefully pushed past America and ran, fast as he could manage, through the crowds of the Babako. Within moments, the crowds had shifted and he was completely out of sight.
----------------------------------------------------------
England gazed up at the sky from the front deck of his ship, restless with anticipation. Today they’d take to the sky again. Minutes from now even, they’d be departing. It had been four days since America had left, and three days since he’d told his crew to prepare to leave soon. If he’d had his way, they would have left that very day. This island was beautiful, but he was aching, practically hurting in his need to be back in the air. Almost two weeks away from it was far too long.
And the sooner he got back in the sky, the sooner he’d perhaps be able to meet up with America. He felt a small smile grace his features. America had told him it was to be a ‘date,’ although England half considered that knowing America and his oblivious manner, he probably didn’t even realize that he said it. Be rational, he often told himself. Don’t get your hopes up too high.
“Everyone’s ready to cast off, England,” Australia had come up behind him, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.
“Oh? Excellent then.” He nodded firmly at him. “I can’t thank you enough for having us, Australia. It was greatly appreciated.”
Australia laughed lightly. “That’s what mates do, help each other out.”
England’s lips quirked up in a half smile. “Indeed they do.” He proffered his hand, and Australia took it, shaking it warmly.
“See you again then?”
“Of course,” England replied, not missing a beat.
Australia shrugged. “It’s just… blimey, it’s crazy out there. Radio me if you ever need help, all right?”
England leveled him a serious look. “I will. Please take care of yourself then.”
“I always do.” He turned around and waved goodbye, but pivoted halfway and smirked once he was several meters away. “And good luck with America, right?”
England’s face bloomed red. “T-thank you.”
Australia jogged off the ship and waved goodbye from the beach. Under England’s feet, the steam engines came to life. Prussia would be down in the bowels of the ship making sure everything was working to order, and Switzerland was nearby at the wheel, preparing for duty. Spain and Romano were watching the sails. Sealand and Liechtenstein were below deck. Steam began puffing out of the exhaust pipe that rose in the middle of the ship, and England smiled as he felt it begin to lift out of the water.
England ran over to join Switzerland, taking the wheel from his hands and guiding the Victoria upwards into the air, the wind catching the sails as it took flight, and after several minutes, reached the desired latitude and leveled out.
He glanced over the side of the ship, at the vivid teal of the sea below. Then he looked up, at the spacious blue of the sky above. England exhaled deeply and closed his eyes, the cool breeze washing over his face.
