This chapter is not meant to offend, harm, or insult anyone or anybody. This is made purely for entertainment. Thank you for understanding.

School is preparing us for high-school by making us do our four-year plans... I really hate it. I mean, it's not really that bad it's just really boring lol.

This chapter is a bit short, but I just wanted to get it out in time for Thanksgiving ^^ Enjoy!!

:)

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⚠️ Warning: Mentions of war ⚠️

[942 Words]

[Saudi Arabia's POV]

[Two weeks later]

It's been two weeks since the initial attack.

Two weeks, and the Middle East has been transformed into a wasteland.

The sky had been lit on fire and no one had the power to put it out. Planes and jets soared constantly overhead. Missiles could be heard dropping from miles, and their earthquaking explosions were ten times louder. Screams and alarms were constant.

Saudi Arabia questioned if he was in Hell. The destruction never seemed to end. The death. The pain.

What did any of them do to deserve this? Was this a cruel joke from Allah? Or was it simply just fate?

Saudi Arabia scoffed.

When America had first attacked, he had hoped it was a mistake. A fluke. Maybe Saudi Arabia had seen the flag wrong, at first glance. Or maybe these were rogue planes, not at all connected to the mainland.

But every single sign said otherwise.

The rising tensions. The plane models. The way America had been treating others before this.

This was the harsh reality. This was Saudi Arabia's harsh reality.

And it's been like this for years.

Saudi Arabia isn't new to hardship, or struggle. He's lived year to year, month to month, day to day. Saudi Arabia has questioned multiple times how he was still alive. How he still existed.

The simple answer was that he was a survivor. A damn good one.

And like hell would he finally be pushed over by a westerner.

Saudi Arabia, and most of the Middle East, had already figured out America's motive. And it's not like it took a genius to figure it out either— the man made it pretty obvious.

America had come to destroy their oil supply.

And it made sense, didn't it? Since this World War 3 was real, America had to think smart. It was him versus the world. And what better way to destroy your enemies by hitting their core? Their base? The thing that literally kept them going?

Oil was no joke. That was a fact.

It powered your jets, your planes, your submarines, your tanks and your cars. It powered everything. Without oil, there was no army. And without an army, there was no chance they could ever win.

Knowing this, the Middle East defended their oil supply like it was Hell itself attacking.

When fire came raining down on them, they sent out air support to counter it. When their air support was taken out of the equation, they sent ground protection around the reserves. Saudi Arabia was proud to say they've shot down more planes than they could count.

It was only a matter of how long either side could last.

And yes, while the Middle East wasn't as up-to-date with their weapons, the United States still had to ship their planes and jets all the way across the Atlantic. Saudi Arabia knew that couldn't be cheap. He also knew that couldn't last forever.

The Middle East just needed something to give them the advantage. Something that would hold them over America.

They needed a little push.

They needed Europe.

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[Turkey's POV]

"Syria. Come with me."

The two personifications were in a tent. It wasn't large, but it also wasn't small. The interior was empty, only adorned with a simple rug, table, and lamp.

This tent was centered in one of the only "safe areas" for miles. Refugees milled outside, setting up their own tents or resting in the medical one. In a place packed with so many people, you would imagine it would be filled with chatter. But a great hush silenced this safe haven. A thick tension that could not be broken.

Many of these people had lost a loved one. A mother, a father, maybe even a child. These people would enter this place, empty-handed and broken hearted. Even though America was only aiming for oil reserves, something always happened.

A stray missile. A rogue plane.

No one was safe in war. No matter what anyone said.

"I can't." Syria replied from his position on the floor. He sat crossed-legged, a blindfold secured tightly over his eyes. Turkey wondered what made him wear it again.

"What's the reason?" Turkey asked. "If we go together, they'll be more likely to listen. You will also be safer."

"That's the thing." Syria sighed. He tilted his head away. "I don't think I can find it in myself to... to run away, when my people are stuck here. I can't leave. Not now."

"I'm leaving tomorrow morning. Are you sure?"

Syria nodded firmly. He stood up. "I'm sure." He said. He grasped Turkey's hand, patting him on the back. "Promise me you'll come back? Preferably with good news?"

Turkey smiled, returning the pat. "Of course, brother. I promise."

Turkey knew how the Europeans were. It wasn't going to be easy.

But it was going to be worth it.

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A/N:

Thanks for reading this far!! I hoped you liked this chapter ^^

Goodbye, and see you all next time!! Make sure to get some rest. And drink some water!!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON FEBRUARY 11TH, 2023

EDITED ON NOVEMBER 28TH, 2024 ✅