fandomhigh | Library, Sunday

This wasn't the gym.

Apollo had been on his way to the gymnasium, intent on pumping iron and keeping up his strict training regime so he could be in tip top shape for his next fight.

But this wasn't the gym.

This was a place filled with books and it was quiet and Apollo didn't see any heavy bags there.

"What is this trickery that I have encountered?" he boomed to the library at large. When no one answered, Apollo stalked around the aisles, hands held at the ready in case the Italian Stallion or the Sultan of Sting appeared out of nowhere to try and take him down.

When he found no one, he frowned, hands on his hips. "The King of Sting has to train today and he will train! He will train and you will like!"

So, with a music appearing out of nowhere, Apollo stacked chairs in identical intervals and started leaping over them. He found the heaviest books he could and started wailing away (while not actually damaging them) with his gloved hands.

"I'll get ya! I'll get ya good! You've got no chance!"

The music got louder and Apollo grabbed the highest shelves, pulling himself up in a bastardized version of a pull up. He zigzagged down aisles, taking cutting turns and punching the ends of shelves as he did.

"Can't no one beat me! I am immortal! I am the walking immortal!"

He climbed up on the library counter, hands held up and bouncing around like he'd just won the title and didn't look like a complete fool.

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Germany decided that he kind of liked this Apollo Creed country. It had...spunk.

"It would take more than that to make me forget Mother Germany!" he said proudly. "But Poland is a whiny baby, in need of invasion. Very good land, strategic positioning. I must plan my attack!"

"Go for the body!" Apollo said, making several gut shot punches in the air. "That winds them. Take the energy out of their sails and then knock their teeth out!"

Apollo had no idea Poland wasn't a person. Too many punches to the head.

But Poland was a person. And a country.

It was complicated.

"Sound advice!" Germany said with a nod. "I shall keep it in mind, and, perhaps, when the invasion is successful, you will have a stop of honour in my future regime."

Germany was feeling magnanimous that morning.

"A day in my honor sounds fantastic!" Apollo said, twisting the words to the whim of his ego. "Good luck in your battle for the belt. Remember, if he has you on the ropes, go for the eyepoke. It's illegal but it'll let you catch your breath!"

To that, Germany just laughed. As if legality was ever a concern! He was Germany; he made the rules.

"Das ist gut," he decided, and began to stride toward the shelves. Apollo Creed might be a nation who knew war tactics, but he did not seem to know libraries. "If you see Italy around here somewhere, send him to me. He and I need to talk."

"If I see that Italian Stallion around you, I'm gonna scramble his brains worse than I scramble my eggs!"

He threw a punch in the air so hard that he almost fell off his feet.

"Uhhh..."

That was a bit more than what Germany would have liked to do to Italy, and he would hardly call the pathetic whelp a stallion, but he would let it pass. Apollo Creed seemed even more violent of a country than Germany lately, and that was enough to impress him into silence.

"Danke. Guten Morgen, ya?"

Apollo had no idea what those last words meant so all he said was, "Glad to help! Good luck in your title bout!"

Library, Sunday

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