rchcc122

alfred f. jones a.k.a the united states of America became one of the most powerful nations in the world. he goes to boring meetings with other nations. this is what he does when he's not at the meetings. it's a lot more interesting.    England is probably going to kill me.     It’s chilly, but Alfred doesn’t mind. He loves this city. New York City. His heart.     Well, actually, it’s a little bit above his heart, but close enough.    The city is lit around him, cars and taxis speeding by. Just this street had changed so much since the old days. His hands dug deep into the pockets of his old brown bomber jacket. T

It had been a hero's funeral with Canada standing strong among the rest of the nations. By his and England's permission the event was being broadcasted; America's country deserved the right to mourn as well. He was buried in DC. The ceremony held at the National Mall. He was buried under a dogwood tree- a broken chain on his gravestone. He was a loss to the family. Their entire family of nations. His resting spot was in a special area of the cemetery. England wasn't looking up at all; he hadn't let anyone meet his gaze. His shoulders hadn't stopped shaking. Canada's hand went to England's back, rubbing gently as he leaned over and whisper

 "ALFRED!" England froze in disbelief. His body shaking. Tears already forming. He found himself just staring at the bloodied body of his son. The little colony he had raised… it took just a second… and now he was gone. Russia gripped his pipe tight. There was a reddening that started around his eyes. He wouldn't cry. Russia was too strong to cry. Just like America was too strong to be killed by a human. "A puny, scrawny, foolish mortal," the words were deep and dangerous. The Russian gripping the pipe harder. His knuckles turning white. Japan was sitting straight in his seat. Perfectly erect as he stared at the screen with a co

England felt his throat dry up, disbelief washing over him. His body shook. This scene… it was haunting. Not just seeing the young men he was so close to, but also seeing nations like himself trapped with guns to their heads. He hoped the government was tracking where this was coming from, he hoped that the villain wouldn't do anything until the authorities got there. He hoped that America and Canada would get out alive. "Speak!" The smack that followed left a red mark on America's face. The country's lips were tight as he glared at the villain. "If you do not speak, Matthew will die." "It was you, wasn't it?" "Pardon?" America gro

 "Both Alfred and Matthew are missing and neither one will answer their phones," England's eyes met those of his fellow colleagues'. At the mention of Canada missing, Prussia and Holland looked up, both visibly unnerved. At the mention of America missing, Japan and Russia had a noticeable change of expression- going from one of indifference to just a slight brow furrow of concern. "Do we know for sure they're missing and not just, erm, 'busy'?" Austria tilted his head. He didn't delve into the details of his theory, but that was hardly a problem for the nations. They all more than understood the implication. "My son and Alfred do not have

"So, are you comfortable?" America sat in a wooden chair on the opposite side of the room from his brother, his arms tied to the chair along with his legs and upper body. He knew if he tried, he could probably break free- after all, it was just rope. But Canada was already in pain from these guys, and they were still armed and dangerously close to his brother. No. America wouldn't give them any trouble until he saw an opening. The man stepped closer to the nation, peering down from his higher position. "I asked you a question. Don't make this harder on yourself. Are you comfortable?" America turned his head away from him, defiant. Canad

"Terrorist?" The man chuckled, smiling. "Nah, I'm not a terrorist." America breathed a sigh of relief, smiling again himself. "That's good; I was kind of freaked out for a minute there-" "But," The man's grin became dark, "the guy behind you might be." Before America could spin around, he felt a hand snake into his hair, grabbing him roughly. He couldn't get free- nation or not, his hair was still a powerful place to grab him. But he struggled anyway, trying to kick the person behind him as his head was pulled down and he was dragged roughly from the hallway to the inside of a room. "Let me go!" He snarled, fighting the best he could wh