The Cracks of the Past

Chapter 1 - Germany

Germany was scared.

It wasn't the lightning that danced through the sky nor the crashes of thunder that followed suit, though admittedly he was somewhat nervous about it. No, It was something much worse. Someone much worse.

Soviet and British troops apparently had been reported to be surrounding the bunker he and his father had been occupying for the past few weeks. How they got the location of it in the first place was still a mystery though he suspected there to be a traitor in Third Reich's forces. Stupid. Why of all times had this 'raid' been scheduled now? It wasn't like the two occupants of this place, one being a mere child, could do anything to truly defend this hellhole. But no. like always the people outside his wonderful homeland had to escalate the situation to extreme measures. Typical.

Another flash of light illuminated the angry sky, filling his room with light, and temporarily blinding the young germanic country. As much as he disliked the current weather, he had to admit it was good timing. Oh how miserable the enemy must be. It brought him a small bit of joy to these dark times. Nothing like a good electric storm to welcome you into the Fatherlands.

CRASH! The sudden presence of thunder made the small country jump then cower further into the nest of blankets that currently encompased him. How many seconds had that been? Certainly not more than one, maybe two at the very most. The heart of the storm was basically over them.

Another ten minutes of watching the outside came and went. Nothing changed. The storm still raged on, angry at the earth, and the feeling of impending doom continued to linger heavy in the air. The German sucked in a breath and waited for the rumble that was soon to come. He didn't even have to hold it. The loud bang, much like that of a gun, reverberated through the complex, shaking the ground in its wake, and causing his teeth to rattle.

He had had enough.

Before he could question his actions, Germany threw off the cocoon of fabric, yeeted the pair of glasses that had previously resided on the side table to his face, and jumped off his bed only to scramble right back on. Why was the floor so damn cold? Whatever. He could live with that. Sliding off the edge, this time cautiously as not to give his bare feet frostbite, he made his way to the dresser that stood along the edge of the room.

His father didn't like to see him, or anyone for that matter, in nightclothes or underdressed. He had never quite understood his view on that, something about being professional and respecting others, though Third Reich had not elaborated off of it. The one time anyone questioned him about that, his only response was "Old habit. It will die soon enough." In the years that followed it had not in fact dissipated, but more so grown.

The clothing folded in the top shelf of his dresser stared back at him. White pants, black shirt, black overcoat, shoes, socks, belt, all black. The entire uniform was an inky color. No that wasn't true. The arm patch was different. Red thread stood out from the monotone fabric like a sore thumb. And now as Germany stood in front of the mirror checking to make sure everything was clean and orderly, he had second thoughts. Father probably didn't want to be bothered, especially now with reports of an impending attack. He had enough weighing him down at the moment without having to comfort a small child. With a soft sigh the young boy turned away from the reflective surface and made his way to the room's exit.

The bunker was somewhat terrifying in the dark. Every corridor was devoid of any sort of decoration, giving the whole place an abandoned feel to it. That of course was not the case. Even with the self reassurance it still felt uncomfortable wandering the halls. Left, right, past the offshoot, another left, until he came to the door that led into his father's quarters. And here he stopped, not sure whether or not he really should be bothering the man who had taken care of him since before recollection. On one hand, both of them needed a little comfort, Reich from Germany's cheerful disposition, and Germany from Reich's physical comfort, but on the other, Father needed time alone. Time to think up something that would save them from death.