America X Italy Novels & Stories

ITALY Italy breathed differently. Not like California's sharp glass-and-steel lungs, nor Cade City’s greedy metallic rhythm. Italy breathed slowly. Deeply. Like a land that had seen too much and decided to carry its grief with elegance. The jet touched down at a private airfield outside Salerno. When Amara stepped out, dusk kissed her skin, warm and orange, carrying the faint scent of sea salt and old stone. But she didn’t stop to inhale. Didn’t lift her face to the sun.

The Italian capital suddenly found itself part of a booming robot craze, fueled by the emergence of the Transatlantic Military Corporation. After the age of nuclear warheads had run its course, the Italian government was rendered almost completely broke from construction of the Horizon Shield. Partnering with the United States, and the TMC, saved their economy. The government's massive underground base, used to house the shield generator, became the world's largest foreign TMC factory.

My dad had been wrong. Italy wasn’t better than America. But… Why did it feel so damn good to be here, in this chaos, with him?

My father spoke out as he wiped a tear from his eyes from laughing so hard. “What is it?” I asked shortly. The familiar pain in my heart was returning, and I needed to see if Allegra’s letter came today. “As you know, the Italian and American Mafias have never been so successful, profitable, and organized.” Xavier spoke out as he leaned back in his chair. I walked back over to the bottle of whiskey and poured myself another glass.

he replied. “I am glad you have seen better days.” She smiled at him. He nodded, “How was Italy?” Kamilla smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Italy was amazing,” she replied, her voice filled with excitement. “The food, the culture, the people... it was all so beautiful.” Chaos smiled, “I am glad you enjoyed it,” he replied. “I am sure you had a wonderful time.” Kamilla nodded, a wistful smile playing on her lips. “It has been a while since I have been back to the States,” she admitted. “It feels nostalgic.”

she said brightly, and he nodded. "We're going to Silvan tomorrow," Amaria said. " It's really suspicious, Silvan is a small town but very rich in soil, they said the rich soil was a blessing from the spirit king of nature 'Gaia' that's why they have the healthiest fruits, vegetables and rear the healthiest animals, it has the highest exportation rate over the years because all the kingdoms under Ashmael Empire request goods from them yearly, I should know because I'm from there." Teresa stated

“So we make the rules. We open the doors we want. We lock the ones we don’t.” “Exactly,” I whispered, tracing his jaw with my fingertips. “South America can bring their offers, Russia their threats, France their games. But Italy stays ours. No intruder, no matter how gilded, dictates our homeland.” His lips brushed over my ear, his whisper a vow. “Then I’ll burn every bridge but ours. Let them swim to us if they dare.” I smiled against him, my arms tightening around his neck. “Let them. They’ll drown before they reach the shore.”

I answered with so much rage boiling in me. “Who the fuck..” “Hello, Mr America.. Oh, I mean Mr Vegas..” I removed the phone from my ear, stared at it in disgust, and placed it back on my ear.. “Who the hell is this? And who is Mr America?” “Ah.. Is this a wrong number?” The man had a very strong and disgusting Italian accent, it was killing me, but I had to see the end of it. “What was your first thought? It's definitely a wrong number.. I'm not your audience, Mr Italian..”

Did I pronounce it right? His cousin gives him a thumbs up. "Wait, where are we going?" Eddy puts his hand on my shoulders with a bright smile. —To the cradle of all human evil: Italy. Italy, Tuscany. 19 years RYDER "Here, I want a clean job." Leo slid the data sheet across the desk and I caught it on the other side. They are from the Bratva, so be careful. -AHA. I browsed the folder and since there was no image I closed it soon. Leo was stroking the back of Pantera who was very comfortable sleeping on the table, when he looked at me. Serious, indisputable, as always.

The United States wasn’t a haven; it was a graveyard of mistakes. I turned toward the window. The night outside was alive — neon reflections rippling across the waves, laughter spilling from the beach below, the city pretending it wasn’t rotting from the inside out. “Enough,” I muttered. I grabbed my phone and called my second-in-command. “Get the bird ready,” I said. “We’re wheels up in thirty.” There was a pause. “Destination, boss?” “Italy.” No hesitation. Just a curt, “Understood.” Minutes later, the house shifted into motion. My men moved quickly — packing files, weapons, cash. The essentials. The rest could burn.