You say you want a revolution~

[selfevident1776]

[A younger America, one barely grown into his Nantucket, reclines against a wall of the HQ.  In one hand he clutches an old musket, the other, his side.  He's battered, bruised, and bleeding, and he isn't quite sure where he is, but right now he doesn't care.  He's safe and away from the sounds of cannon fire and the smell of smoke, and for the moment, that's all that matters.

He winces, grasping at his side gingerly.]

D-Damn bayonets...

((ooc: Coming out of rp-retirement.  whysoaddictivehetalia?  Please forgive any rustiness! :D))