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APH:The rebirth of Pangea8...*pat,pat*
Promiscuous dreams vexed Germany in that night.
After they administed the antidote to Italy and he didn't react to it, Germany after a long time fell asleep on the bed. Constantly he saw Italy dying or being attacked by the guy. And always he couldn't rescue him...
"Aua..." he still laid eyes closed with his chest on the bed. "Feliciano, stop it!"
"Feli..?" Promptly he opened his eyes. "Feli..ci..ano.." close to tears, Germany looked up and beheld the small Feliciano, who looked at him, baffled.
"Where am I? Have you something to eat for me? Are Austria and HRE here, too?"
"Fe-li-ciano..." he still couldn't believe it.
"W-why are you crying, Ludwig?"
Although Italy remembered is first hundred life years, he could remember Ludwig and Kiku taking care of him before he lost conciousness. Ludwig, who now started to realise that Italy not was gone forever, put his arms firmly around the little.
"Aua, you're hurting me!"
"I am so sorry!" he blubbered out. "So incredib
APH:The rebirth of Pangea 7"Oh my god..." also the others scared on what they saw swim in the container. A brown, thin figure, with white hair which grew around his head and a white beard. Man could see the ribs and vertebras clearly. His face was hastate. It looked inhuman, there were cables connected to the body who led into the roof.
"Well, you finally found me?" his voice sounded like from nowhere. They scared again, suddenly the entity's slitlike eyes opened.
"Nah, how do you like my empire?" It opened his mouth, so his deformed teeth were visible.
"Who are you? Where is that guy with the grey hair?" asked America.
"How impolite. Firt marching into my house and then not even introducing himself." He looked villainous towards America. "You might be talking about my marionette. Don't worry, it was me who controled him. I am Pangaea!"
"How can this be?" the other countries wondered.
"I put myself into a deep slep when the countries startet to part. I've just waited to return. Then twenty years ago some researc
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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