Going Out in a Blaze of Glory
Quick, you have five seconds left to live. What do you do with it?
Alfred stared out over the horizon, looking over the prosperous and powerful empire he had built as those in Europe who had once been great began to crumble. He had thought that this was his time, and that the power would shift. No longer would the ancients tower over him, thousands of years of tradition drowning out the cries for change. And for awhile it had been. For the blink of an eye he had been on top, unrivalled.
No, that wasn't true. There had been one rival. From the same cries of despair that had born forth the golden promise land that was the United States of America had risen a dark and sinister Union of pure evil. The Soviet Union took everything that had been good about America's revolution and perverted it. Where America was free, Russia was in bondage. Where America was kind and just, they were cruel and mean.
But America wanted him.
It was never to be, of course. They were destined to dance their deadly dance until one of them fell. For one tiny stumble and it was all over. Not only for them, even though they both knew deep down they deserved it, but for the whole world. Their was a high stakes game, too high. They stood, balanced perfectly, over a gaping endless nothingness that threatened to swallow them both whole should they step even one toe out of line.
But Alfred loved it.
Something about the threat of dying made his blood quicken and sing in his veins. The thought that even one casual remark could end the world thrilled him like nothing else. There were times where he stood over that precipice, wanting to jump but never daring. He wanted to push Russia too far, or just push the button and be damned. There would be no one left to blame him for firing the first shot. They would all be dead. But every time he pulls back, cursing himself for a coward. One day, he tells himself, one day I will destroy him.
Because that's the only way he can tell him that he loves him. Everyone else, all they see is hate. But they're blind, they've always been blind. The millenia has robbed them of their site but he is young and he is fresh and he can see what they cannot. Everything that's beautiful hurts and everything that is good is deadly. The razor's edge smile, the ruby red splashes of blood, they all meant love to him. And who hurt him more than Russia?
He'd been shy up until now, unwilling to say a word about his little crush. He'd passed the launch room time after time after time, heart pounding in his chest and palms sweating. Would today be the day? But no, he was too scared. It was too much too soon and he was young, so very young and bitten by the snake whose poison is first love. So he left, regrouping to try another day. Because he would destroy Russia someday, he would. They would go down together in a blaze of nuclear glory.
It had been a sunny day, when he had finally worked up the nerve. Sunny and bright and charming in the way only America can be charming. Nevertheless, the scientists and analysts and all those other government types who never seemed to see the sun slaved away inside their work stations. Alfred stole past them, tiptoeing as quiet as a mouse the way he had when he was a colony avoiding England's wrath after some trivial mistake. It was as if his entire life was training for this moment. If he could escape England's beatings, he could slip into the launch room.
It was deserted, so empty he felt like the last person on earth. The irony of that caught his attention but he let the thought fly off with the rest of his sanity and made his way over to the control panel. The bright red button was easy enough to find but not quite so easy to push. With every code he punched in and key he turned, his resolve flagged a little more. By the time he'd punched in the last code and opened the last case, he hand was shaking.
He thought about those he held dearest to him: Mattie, England, France. He thought about those who had been enemies and were now new found friends: Japan, Germany. And then he thought about the friend who had turned out to be an enemy all along. The one who he was doing all this for, the one he loved more than he loved anything else in the world. He would never see any of them again. He would never see how Ivan reacted to his explosive confession.
It had been hard, but worth it in the end to press that button. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he could finally breathe easy. Knowing that he didn't have much time left before Ivan retaliated he rushed to the bright red phone, his last remaining contact with his lover, and prayed that he would pick up. He listened, almost crying out in relief as he heard ragged breathing on the other line. Russia was there, and he was terrified. How endearing.
"Heya, commie." He said, all smiles and sunshine.
"America, what did you do?" Ivan asked, panic lacing his voice.
"I love you, Ivan. I just wanted you to see that." He replied, smile dropping.
"Love? America, what are you talking about? You hate me." He sounded wry and sarcastic.
"No, no. I never hated you. I loved you all along. Please say you love me." He begged. For a long moment there was silence and he thought Ivan was going to say it back and his heart soared. But as dark chuckles seeped in through the static that had begun to disturb the connection, it fell once more.
"America, I hate you. I've never loved you and never will. You are despicable to me, the very thought of you makes me sick. I hope you may die in peace." He mocked, hanging up the phone.
For long moments America stared off into the distance like a zombie, shocked by the cruelty his love had displayed. Had it all really not been worth it? Had he just destroyed the world with nothing to show for it? Everything was over, everyone was gone. He'd just doomed the world for a broken heart.
Well good! They deserved to die if he had to be in this much pain. He didn't want this world anymore. It was his to destroy and he no longer wanted to live in it. So if he took everyone else down with him, then so be it.
Alfred stared out over the horizon, looking over the prosperous and powerful empire he had built and watched as it was all destroyed.
Alfred stared out over the horizon, looking over the prosperous and powerful empire he had built as those in Europe who had once been great began to crumble. He had thought that this was his time, and that the power would shift. No longer would the ancients tower over him, thousands of years of tradition drowning out the cries for change. And for awhile it had been. For the blink of an eye he had been on top, unrivalled.
No, that wasn't true. There had been one rival. From the same cries of despair that had born forth the golden promise land that was the United States of America had risen a dark and sinister Union of pure evil. The Soviet Union took everything that had been good about America's revolution and perverted it. Where America was free, Russia was in bondage. Where America was kind and just, they were cruel and mean.
But America wanted him.
It was never to be, of course. They were destined to dance their deadly dance until one of them fell. For one tiny stumble and it was all over. Not only for them, even though they both knew deep down they deserved it, but for the whole world. Their was a high stakes game, too high. They stood, balanced perfectly, over a gaping endless nothingness that threatened to swallow them both whole should they step even one toe out of line.
But Alfred loved it.
Something about the threat of dying made his blood quicken and sing in his veins. The thought that even one casual remark could end the world thrilled him like nothing else. There were times where he stood over that precipice, wanting to jump but never daring. He wanted to push Russia too far, or just push the button and be damned. There would be no one left to blame him for firing the first shot. They would all be dead. But every time he pulls back, cursing himself for a coward. One day, he tells himself, one day I will destroy him.
Because that's the only way he can tell him that he loves him. Everyone else, all they see is hate. But they're blind, they've always been blind. The millenia has robbed them of their site but he is young and he is fresh and he can see what they cannot. Everything that's beautiful hurts and everything that is good is deadly. The razor's edge smile, the ruby red splashes of blood, they all meant love to him. And who hurt him more than Russia?
He'd been shy up until now, unwilling to say a word about his little crush. He'd passed the launch room time after time after time, heart pounding in his chest and palms sweating. Would today be the day? But no, he was too scared. It was too much too soon and he was young, so very young and bitten by the snake whose poison is first love. So he left, regrouping to try another day. Because he would destroy Russia someday, he would. They would go down together in a blaze of nuclear glory.
It had been a sunny day, when he had finally worked up the nerve. Sunny and bright and charming in the way only America can be charming. Nevertheless, the scientists and analysts and all those other government types who never seemed to see the sun slaved away inside their work stations. Alfred stole past them, tiptoeing as quiet as a mouse the way he had when he was a colony avoiding England's wrath after some trivial mistake. It was as if his entire life was training for this moment. If he could escape England's beatings, he could slip into the launch room.
It was deserted, so empty he felt like the last person on earth. The irony of that caught his attention but he let the thought fly off with the rest of his sanity and made his way over to the control panel. The bright red button was easy enough to find but not quite so easy to push. With every code he punched in and key he turned, his resolve flagged a little more. By the time he'd punched in the last code and opened the last case, he hand was shaking.
He thought about those he held dearest to him: Mattie, England, France. He thought about those who had been enemies and were now new found friends: Japan, Germany. And then he thought about the friend who had turned out to be an enemy all along. The one who he was doing all this for, the one he loved more than he loved anything else in the world. He would never see any of them again. He would never see how Ivan reacted to his explosive confession.
It had been hard, but worth it in the end to press that button. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he could finally breathe easy. Knowing that he didn't have much time left before Ivan retaliated he rushed to the bright red phone, his last remaining contact with his lover, and prayed that he would pick up. He listened, almost crying out in relief as he heard ragged breathing on the other line. Russia was there, and he was terrified. How endearing.
"Heya, commie." He said, all smiles and sunshine.
"America, what did you do?" Ivan asked, panic lacing his voice.
"I love you, Ivan. I just wanted you to see that." He replied, smile dropping.
"Love? America, what are you talking about? You hate me." He sounded wry and sarcastic.
"No, no. I never hated you. I loved you all along. Please say you love me." He begged. For a long moment there was silence and he thought Ivan was going to say it back and his heart soared. But as dark chuckles seeped in through the static that had begun to disturb the connection, it fell once more.
"America, I hate you. I've never loved you and never will. You are despicable to me, the very thought of you makes me sick. I hope you may die in peace." He mocked, hanging up the phone.
For long moments America stared off into the distance like a zombie, shocked by the cruelty his love had displayed. Had it all really not been worth it? Had he just destroyed the world with nothing to show for it? Everything was over, everyone was gone. He'd just doomed the world for a broken heart.
Well good! They deserved to die if he had to be in this much pain. He didn't want this world anymore. It was his to destroy and he no longer wanted to live in it. So if he took everyone else down with him, then so be it.
Alfred stared out over the horizon, looking over the prosperous and powerful empire he had built and watched as it was all destroyed.