Countryhumans: WW2

File Nine - The Faces of France

From behind the fort, she watched in helpless desire to aid these poor unfortunate countries. This new.. "Vichy France" was simply atrocious. France winced when she had even thought of this wretch's name. Despite being barely there, being a walking whisper of what she once was, France would be a driving force for this war, which would be lost without her. On the bright side of this dark age, countries would be safe. France would be remembered as a brave soldier... definitely. But at this moment in time, glory was not at the utmost importance.

France gasped slowly in preparation and risked a glance passed the broken-down tank, and then wished she hadn't. She saw this... monster of her former self, smirking with a wide-open grin, she had a long cat-and-nine-tails in her murderous grasp, and whipped it fiercely at her slaves below her, Belgium and... France's heart dropped to her stomach. Her brother Holland, Netherlands, once cheerful and carefree was now but a slave to her Vichy counterpart. Her thoughts escaped from her head and out her mouth. "...No..." she whimpered, her voice barely more than a whisper. She searched Netherland's gaze, desperately looking for at least a shadow of what he once was. But nothing. Just a dead, sightless eye. His movements were ridged and slow. Hopeless. And all the while, Belgium copied his movements exactly, and they dragged a tank behind them, which Vichy was sitting on. So... proud. So stubborn. France hated it. Despised it! She turned away, dashing off. She ran south. She ran and ran. She soon came to the African territories. She knew the place like the back of her hand. And she was to save the countries that were enslaved. France's heart suddenly skipped a beat. What if they were already lost like her brother? Perhaps so, perhaps they were spared for now and, thank god, the distanced wails and cries proved her wrong. France's own reaction made her sick, however. She ran to them, hoping they'd recognize her. She discovered a passage, which had obviously been blocked off by large dusty boulders, and the cries from inside were as ghastly and haunting as her own ghostly figure.

Being a spirit, she phased through the dusty tomb, and nearly cried out as she saw all the... her African countries crying for freedom, for food, they shouted until the desert outside went quiet. She jumped when she spotted behind them, lava, magma, heated hell itself, creeping towards the group. This must've been Vichy France's work. She shared the same mind with France, and they both knew where the volcanoes were from ancient times. Their ruthless mother used it to asphyxiate innocents with its gasses. She must've used it again, and the African countries were crying out in dismay, in terror, for some savior. But what? Gambia's eyes met hers, but not exactly, can she see her? She steadily noticed Gambia eying her up and down, perhaps they saw some sort of... glowing entity in place of her? That must be it. Oh for god's sake, what was she thinking? She could help them.. save them! She whipped her head around frantically, any cracks in the walls perhaps? But she looked to the obviously huge stone blocking the access to leave, yes! The ceiling seemed faulty and crumbling. She ascended up to the ceiling, another country, Sudan pointed up to her, to the ceiling, suddenly, they all tried to scramble up to it. The lava creeped up to the group, it seemed to become faster with every passing second.

 Just as the blockage tumbled over, the lava reached another country's; Mali's feet, she screamed in a blood curdling tone. NO! France cried out, of course, her cries were unsung. She panted desperately, just as the blockage was clear, Mali scrambled away from the lava, hobbling to her comrades desperately, wheezing with fear. Once free, the african territories all let a collective sigh of relief, some started to cry, some cheered, most held each other, but one looked directly up at France.  Madagascar. His confused and scared look broke france's heart into pieces, he didn't ask for this. He didn't deserve this. No one did. France looked at her feet, she couldn't interact with the living, but she could interact with the environments, the sand parted was as she wrote her name into it. The countries slowly surrounded it , gasping and muttering. They must know what's going on. She thought to herself.  Another country, Togo spoke up. "Is.... it you.... France...?" He asks. "Are... you dead..?" The others muttered fearfully. "France? No, she can't be..! Reich can't have taken her too!" They all muttered these panicked stricken curses as France wrote her answer. "Yes."

They all started to cry out in dismay and terror. France went on to write the situation with Reich's torturous ways, she hesitated as Netherland's once bright, now dull, dying blue eyes burned into her brain as she forced herself to keep describing her experience. A rollercoaster of emotions connotated to rage, grief and guilt hit her at full force. She trembled and paused once again as she pulled herself together, she finished with the question. "Help. Please?" They all started to mutter uneasily and France tensed for a few moments in fear of a disappointing answer. Nigeria stepped forward, everyone fell silent, she was as confident as she's ever been, which was normally very confident anyway. "Yes! Reich thinks she's all that?! Well we'll see what she is when she's messed with US!" she spat out the words, The countries, one by one started to cheer "Gratuit France!" They chanted. France suddenly felt brighter, stronger, bolder. Both physically and emotionally. With a large enough military , she could become as physical as she could be as a spirit and be returned to her physical body, Nigeria was right. Reich will fall when faced with the fury of the Great french empire, united once again.