From Belgrade To Zagreb
Stars twinkled in the sky above Zagreb. Streetlights flickered as snow fell down like a waterfall, over the sleeping city.
There were hardly any cars out after dark, despite this city being the capital of Croatia.
Milan Stankovic sat up from his hotel bed. In light of his recent success in the Eurovision song contest, he had just done a concert in Croatia, one of Serbia's closest neighbours.
He looked over at his alarm clock, switched it off, and checked the time.
"3am..." he muttered to himself, "I knew I shouldn't have taken this clock."
He looked out of the window onto the streets of Zagreb for a while.
"Well..." he thought, "If I can't get back to bed, I might as well take a look around the city."
He got out of bed and into the dark city outside.
He walked along the street, seeing that there were only a few cars on the road now. The roads were mostly empty. Suddenly, he heard a loud noise.
He looked and saw a car speeding down the road, right where a guy was slowly walking across, talking into his mobile phone.
"Holy crap!" Milan thought, and he ran to where the guy was, grabbing him and pulling him out of the way, as the car sped past him.
"Holy shit dude you saved my life!" the man shouted, before whispering "Call you back," into the phone and hanging up.
The man spoke in a Croatian accent.
"So, what's your name then?" Milan asked.
"Marko," said the man, "Hey wait a second, you're a Serb?"
"Y...Yeah," Milan replied.
Serbia and Croatia weren't exactly the best of friends, but they were almost the same, and in spite of everything, they were still neighbours.
Suddenly, the two heard footsteps coming towards them.
"The concert was earlier today, we've missed it you morons."
Whispering came from the distance.
"He's probably flown back to Serbia already."
"You idiots, this was our chance! You've blew it now!"
"Hello, who's there?" Milan called out.
"Don't call out to strangers, you stupid Serbian," snapped Marko, "The capital cities of any country are always the ones with the most danger."
"Well I know that," said Milan, slightly annoyed, "I'm from Belgrade."
They could make out shadowy shapes coming towards them.
The two stepped back.
"Yeah... I'm going to go back to the hotel, see you Marko, I guess," said Milan, not wanting to find out who the mysterious figures were.
"Well, look who it is," one of the people ran up to Milan and grabbed him, "Just who we were looking for." he turned to the other three who had come with him, "Get him."
It was dark and the two couldn't see them clearly, but they knew they were trouble.
"Who are you guys?!" Marko shouted, but they didn't answer, they simply ran up to Milan and picked him up.
"Wait a minute! W..Wait!!!" Milan shouted, "I'll give you anything, anything you want! Please, just let me go! Is it money, do you want-"
"Cease your blathering, insect," one of the figures hissed, and then turned to Marko, "You wanted to know who we are? We are Albanian militants, ready to free the country of Kosovo from the grasp of the Serbians..."
"Well you're not going to get very far by kidnapping their Eurovision entrant," Marko replied, coldly.
"He is Serbia's biggest star as of this very moment," replied one of the militans, "A publicly broadcast execution will assert our dominance over the Serbs!"
"WHAT?!" yelled Milan, still struggling to get free of them.
"Wait... what?" Marko said, "Ok everyone, get off him now."
And Marko took a gun out of his pocket.
The Albanians put Milan down.
"You heathen! Traitor!" the Albanians hissed before running off into the night.
"T...Thank you... how did you get the gun?" Milan said.
"Yugoslav war standard," Marko replied coldy, before putting the gun back into his pocket.
The two stood there for a while as the wind blew past them.
"You saved me, I saved you, we're equal now," Marko said finally, "Now get out of here Serb, before I change my mind."
But for some reason, Marko smiled.
"Thank you too," Milan said, and he went back to the hotel and both went their seperate ways.
--A few days later--
Milan was walking back to the airport, it was time for him to go back to Serbia.
The buzz in the airport drowned out most other sounds, but then he heard someone call his name in the distance.
"Milan! Hey, Milan, wait a second!" called a voice.
"Yes, who's there- Marko?" Milan asked, "Hey Marko!"
"Hey, I saw you from over there and I thought I'd come over and thank you again, Serb."
"Haha, thank you too," Milan smiled, before checking his watch and seeing that it was time to head to the plane.
"You're flight's probably going soon," Marko replied, "Good luck!"
"You too," Milan said, before he went to the plane.
"The ex-Yugoslav nations aren't so different after all," Milan thought, as the plane started it's engines and flew to Serbia.