Post by Deleted on Jun 12, 2016 14:00:51 GMT -5
For once, Peter hadn't actually intended to get somewhere he wasn't supposed to be- well, at least, not entirely. Was he technically supposed to be remotely near the front, well, anywhere? No. According to basically all of the grown-up Nations around him, no, he was not (not that he cared what they had to think). Was he now a little freaked out, due to being actually completely unprepared for bomb sirens to go off around him and death to start raining from the sky? Yes. Did this qualify him as having willingly gone somewhere that most people would have scolded him for being? Yes.
The difference was, this time, he really, really had been trying to not put himself in direct danger. He wasn't busy trying to rescue people and sneak them across borders, heck, he didn't even have the helicopter- he'd taken a plane. He wasn't trying to get himself in trouble, this time, not even trying to take scrap metal or other things that no one would miss, he'd just been trying to visit a friend he hadn't seen in awhile, honest! It was just, uh, he was very quickly realizing why he hadn't seen this particular friend in a while, and why they'd been so reluctant to tell him where they were.
How was Peter supposed to know the Italians were actually in charge of the front here? Well, no- he knew that. It was more like: how was Peter supposed to know that they were in charge of the front here, as in it had moved, as in an area that Peter had thought would be a safe place to try to meet up with his friend Seborga would actually be not very safe at all, and that they really should have waited until Seborga was at home but Peter was worried about him and had wanted to talk and he'd really, really thought things would be okay this time, he really, really had.
The other problem was that he couldn't actually get himself into a building- he was technically in town, but he'd just happened to have phenomenally bad timing, which, you know, was just about the norm for him, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he was pretty sure there were actually people marching in- from which side, Peter neither knew nor cared, they could both be equally horrible- and there were bombs going off and he could get himself out of most messes, but he was made of concrete and steel, not adamantium! There was only but so much he could take!
And there was fire. There was fire- why was there fire? No, deep breaths, he could still breathe but why was there fire, anyway, who in their right mind liked fire? Maybe he'd gotten the coordinates wrong? Maybe Seb had gotten the coordinates wrong- it was unlike Peter to forget coordinates, that's why he'd asked for them instead of street directions of some kind, they were easier for him to find. He wished he had more than a knife he'd been given by his Uncle Denmark, a Swedish passport, the clothes on his back (relatively nondescript because he wasn't stupid or anything and he knew that the situation he was walking into might be dangerous, just not to this degree), and his fists.
Not that his fists weren't useful. He had very heavy fists. They had a lot of metal in them. They just weren't useful in the current situation, was all.
Something very, very loud went off nearby, and Peter yelped, wishing that the doors he'd been looking for weren't locked and that he hadn't been forced to get off the path towards where he thought he was supposed to be meeting Seb by- he could remember the coordinates in his head, too, list them off if someone asked, he was good at coordinates- wished that he hadn't been pushed out of the area with actual public buildings he could take cover in. That would be nice. Yeah.
There were definitely people approaching, though, which could either be a good thing or a very, very bad thing, given that Peter didn't even have more than a knife and an internal compass to fight by. He stiffened. One of them was definitely a Nation, too, which only meant Peter could get in even more trouble, which wasn't even his fault this time!
He ducked behind the corner, peaking out- one of the only benefits of being a micronation is that he wasn't always immediately noticeable by other Nations, so he might get out of this without a lecture and/or the possibility of being severely injured. Whichever worked.
The difference was, this time, he really, really had been trying to not put himself in direct danger. He wasn't busy trying to rescue people and sneak them across borders, heck, he didn't even have the helicopter- he'd taken a plane. He wasn't trying to get himself in trouble, this time, not even trying to take scrap metal or other things that no one would miss, he'd just been trying to visit a friend he hadn't seen in awhile, honest! It was just, uh, he was very quickly realizing why he hadn't seen this particular friend in a while, and why they'd been so reluctant to tell him where they were.
How was Peter supposed to know the Italians were actually in charge of the front here? Well, no- he knew that. It was more like: how was Peter supposed to know that they were in charge of the front here, as in it had moved, as in an area that Peter had thought would be a safe place to try to meet up with his friend Seborga would actually be not very safe at all, and that they really should have waited until Seborga was at home but Peter was worried about him and had wanted to talk and he'd really, really thought things would be okay this time, he really, really had.
The other problem was that he couldn't actually get himself into a building- he was technically in town, but he'd just happened to have phenomenally bad timing, which, you know, was just about the norm for him, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he was pretty sure there were actually people marching in- from which side, Peter neither knew nor cared, they could both be equally horrible- and there were bombs going off and he could get himself out of most messes, but he was made of concrete and steel, not adamantium! There was only but so much he could take!
And there was fire. There was fire- why was there fire? No, deep breaths, he could still breathe but why was there fire, anyway, who in their right mind liked fire? Maybe he'd gotten the coordinates wrong? Maybe Seb had gotten the coordinates wrong- it was unlike Peter to forget coordinates, that's why he'd asked for them instead of street directions of some kind, they were easier for him to find. He wished he had more than a knife he'd been given by his Uncle Denmark, a Swedish passport, the clothes on his back (relatively nondescript because he wasn't stupid or anything and he knew that the situation he was walking into might be dangerous, just not to this degree), and his fists.
Not that his fists weren't useful. He had very heavy fists. They had a lot of metal in them. They just weren't useful in the current situation, was all.
Something very, very loud went off nearby, and Peter yelped, wishing that the doors he'd been looking for weren't locked and that he hadn't been forced to get off the path towards where he thought he was supposed to be meeting Seb by- he could remember the coordinates in his head, too, list them off if someone asked, he was good at coordinates- wished that he hadn't been pushed out of the area with actual public buildings he could take cover in. That would be nice. Yeah.
There were definitely people approaching, though, which could either be a good thing or a very, very bad thing, given that Peter didn't even have more than a knife and an internal compass to fight by. He stiffened. One of them was definitely a Nation, too, which only meant Peter could get in even more trouble, which wasn't even his fault this time!
He ducked behind the corner, peaking out- one of the only benefits of being a micronation is that he wasn't always immediately noticeable by other Nations, so he might get out of this without a lecture and/or the possibility of being severely injured. Whichever worked.