Maple flavored Gelato

Chapter twenty-three

After buying some much-needed winter clothing, he was honestly surprised when Kumajiro informed him that he would need three layers of clothing. He settled on thermal underwear, a shirt, pants, and then a dark blue suit that was called "Mountain hardware." that had a fuzzy hood, and of course two layers of gloves. The mountain hardware would cover his mouth so a scarf wasn't needed.

"This isn't going to be a winter wonderland, Garlic breath." Kumajiro had informed. "This is going to be a frozen hellscape. The only reason Canada doesn't need such thick clothing is that it's his land and he's used to the temperatures, you'll turn into a popsicle before you touch the ground."

Then came the next part, flying.

Italy didn't like riding airplanes. But he honestly loved being the pilot.

When he got to the hangar, one that seemed to be either Justin's or Canada's own personal hangar as it had almost no security. He made his way to the building where an airplane was waiting for him covered in a sheet, no doubt for years judging by the dust.

Italy had to admit, he expected a little two-seater, but this airplane was rather big. Bigger than he would have suspected Canada to own. He walked around the sheet for a few minutes wondering what this aircraft could possibly be.

He decided to stop dawdling and he grabbed the sheet pulling it cleanly off of the aircraft. A surprised gasp left his mouth once he realized just what he was looking at.

"Merda... and Avro 652A." Italy breathed out as he touched the cold metal. "How the tables have turned." He grinned dumbly at the old war world two bomber plane. "Never thought I'd see that day I flew a royal air force plane!" Italy opened the cockpit doors to check out the pilot seat. The leather was worn and cracked showing its age. Everything seemed to be in working condition, of course, Canada took good care of his things. Italy just needed to fill it up.

"You know..." Kumajiro spoke up as Italy was unwinding the fuel hose that was off to the side. "You might want to fly low... but either way, I don't see this ending too well."

"What do you mean?" Italy asked as he attached the hose to the tank and started to pump the gas.

"You're flying an old bomber plane, idiot. Air traffic control won't like that. I'd say flow low to avoid detection, but at the same time civilians are going to see it regardless."

"Well... it's the only choice I got. I'll try and find a midground where air traffic doesn't see me and where I won't get caught by civilians"

Italy topped off the tank and capped the tank, he turned the gas pump off and rolled the hose back up. He picked up Kumajiro into his arms. He then jumped into the cockpit and placed Kumajiro on the ground. "Oh right," Italy grabbed the mask.

"You were a Luftwaffe air fighter, right?" Kumajiro asked, making Italy sweat almost instantly.

"At one point in my life, yes," Italy explained as he put his air mask on. He made sure he was properly attached. "But not anymore, Germany, Japan, and I both realized those ideologies we stood behind were horrible."

Italy then turned the airplane on, the engine roared and the propellers sputtered to life. He honestly felt like he was back on the battlefield for just a second. The smell of the airplane's oil, the mask that hung off of his face, the sound of the propellers, it was all bringing him back.

"Now, I just have to remember how to navigate." Italy laughed once he realized that there was no GPS in this plane. He slowly and carefully drove the plane out of the hangar.

"Please, tell me that was a joke," Kumajiro asked as he nuzzled himself beside Italy's leg.

"Sure."