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Summary
When he was younger, Napoleon Solo had wanted to be an artist.
The way colors bled into each other, or the feel of charcoal under his fingers, had always been something he had loved. Even the way the breeze had tickled the nape of his neck as he’d sat out in the garden, watching the flowers dance. Bending and bowing their heads in time with the grass stalks.
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The war started when America told Russia to bend the knee.Although, in truth, it was not so much an order to kneel as a ‘surrender to the sprawling capitalist empire watching you from across the sea.’ And it was a rather large sea. Why the Americans thought this would be intimidating was a fact no one could agree on.
Of course, the Russians said ‘no.’
For some reason, the polite ‘no’ made the American leaders angry anyway and they conceded to conquer Russia in a storm of bullets, fire and feathers. They perhaps should have taken notes from dear Monsieur Bonaparte’s defeat in the snows of the red motherland, but it is known in many circles that the leaders of the states at the time thought themselves untouchable by misfortune.
Series
- Part 1 of Take These Broken Wings and Learn to Fly