Wild Justice (part 5)
anonymous
July 11 2009, 20:11:16 UTC
"North Korea's acting up again."
America rolled his eyes when Alex - he'd always be Alex to him - said this. Same old song and dance from that last and proud bastion of Glorious Communism, made even more tiresome to those who'd lived through it before. Another handover of power, another show of strength against the American imperialist dogs to facilitate it. So little had changed, just window-dressing, it was like deja vu.
There was a long pause, America sipping at his mug of Kahlua and coffee, (he tended to sneak alcohol in most of his drinks now) Alex standing at the window, his hands clasped behind his back. "Project Fifty's ahead of schedule," Alex said, softly.
America sat up. Project Fifty - named for Area 51's legend, or the fifty states of the Union, or some other obscure reason - no one knew at this point - was the blackest of black operations. Its secrecy was multi-layered and guarded ruthlessly; another legend for the name was that fifty people had already been killed to protect it, he knew. That was wrong - they'd passed that number already. They drugged, lied, doctored media, all to protect the mysteries of Project Fifty. Project Fifty's people worked in secret, moved in shadows, were his first, last, best line of defense.
Project Fifty was America's Research and Development program for extraterrestrial technology - his fabled "Men in Black". Alex was extraordinarily well equipped to assess Project Fifty's progress - he'd been involved with it himself, using his battle experience to help adapt the new technology for terrestrial combat purposes, develop protocols for teaching soldiers how to use said new technology when the time came.
Which might be now.
America felt a thrill of dark excitement go up and down his spine, a feeling he hadn't allowed himself very often since - since that Day. Letting himself get excited was, as Germany would have put it, verboten. It led to reckless actions, dangerous actions - actions the rest of the world would resent and boil over. He couldn't afford it.
He hadn't been able to afford it. But - perhaps - now?
The President turned around and saw his country smiling, a thin sharp-edged smile, a smile he so rarely got to see and never for so long, with a new, splendid light in those blue-sky eyes, and he wanted to preserve that smile forever.
"North Korea may be the catalyst," he murmured. "It may not. But we are ready if it is."
"I've been ready for years," America answered, standing and joining his Boss at the window. They looked out over the White House lawn, and there was understanding between them.
"I'll put the Armed Forces on alert, code Yellow."
Wild Justice (part 6)
anonymous
July 11 2009, 20:12:32 UTC
North Korea, whether by accident or design, had chosen to act up just before the G9 (China had finally been admitted in) met for a conference. It was President Johnston's first outing as leader of the United States on the international stage, and everyone was intensely curious about America's new young leader.
He, and America, arrived neatly in the middle of things, when half the leaders were there and half weren't - neither early nor fashionably late. Although their leaders weren't all assembled, however, the other eight countries of the G9 had been there early, and were grouped together as they watched the black US helicopter land on the helipad, disgorging several intense young Secret Service agents who swept the location with eyes and handheld scanners and even a black German Shepherd before one spoke into his collar radio-tag and signalled for the President to emerge.
"Paranoid, aren't they?" murmured France.
"I've heard the new President is more security conscious than the last," Canada volunteered.
"He should be, he has more life to lose than most," muttered Romano. "Holy Christ! The man's only thirty-two years old! Twelve years ago he wouldn't have been eligible to run for office in America at all."
The other Nations murmured something like agreement as the President finally emerged from his helicopter. If anything, he looked younger than his thirty-two years. Alfred followed close behind his Boss, both dressed in well-fitting dark suits. They looked very alike, and very young, as they both walked towards the conference hall, heads bent close together as they walked, obviously having a discussion.
The eight countries watched in open curiousity. This was the first time most of them had seen the young President in person.
"You know something?" Canada said, idly. He had actually met Johnston - the tradition of the first international visit going to Canada had been upheld. "That man's eyes are almost the same color as Alfred's. It's sort of funny when they're both looking at you."
It was a minor note, a throwaway observation.
And then they were filing out, going back downstairs to meet with Alfred and his new President. Only Russia and China, the other two superpowers - the one who had clung hard to old power, clung and kept it and built it up again, the other who had risen like a phoenix from the flames of former weakness - stayed up, watching the third superpower of the world laugh and joke with his beloved Boss.
"There is another reason, I think," Russia murmured quietly, in a voice pitched for China's ears alone, "Why this man acts as if he moves on a battlefield."
"And it is…?"
"He has been on battlefields," Russia replied simply, watching the way Johnston moved, wondering if the man was armed. "He is a soldier, this one."
"Mmm," China murmured in vague agreement, but his eyes were intent.
Russia continued, "And America is beginning to move like him." They exchanged long glances then looked down to where America and his Boss were entering the hall. America, the capitalist - he hated wars now, they knew. They were messy, and unprofitable. He never went to battle unless the UN said to.
And there had been that - chastening, all those years before. It had worked, had it not?
The two superpowers watched America, moving with an assured ease he had not had for years, and wondered.
This is Artist!Anon
anonymous
July 12 2009, 03:38:36 UTC
UPDATED! I found Alex to be a very likable character, and ohhh... some thing is going to happen soon huh? Can feel the calm before the storm.
I wonder what is the significance of Alex's resemblance to Alfred, but I can imagine how it will be a little weird to have two pairs of bright blue eyes staring at you (I LOVE Alfred's eyes, btw). I really liked Russia's observation... and how Alfred seems to be so happy with Alex. Can't wait for the next wonderful chapter!
Re: This is Artist!Anon
anonymous
July 12 2009, 09:28:10 UTC
ARTIST-ANON! *worships* I love your art. Also, I just realized, are you the one who did the beautiful, beautiful art fill where Alfred and Arthur are reincarnated, and Matthew runs past them? I worship you twice over for that.
And yes, things are going to move soon. I have to thank you for your nice comment - oh man, I am so glad that YOU like it - especially about Alex, as I was really nervous as to how readers would mind having an OC so much in the story. So, thanks!
Alex's resemblance to Alfred is, like, something half-chance - he was born with blue eyes - but because he's been hanging around Alfred so much, they're beginning to influence each other.
Re: This is Artist!Anon
anonymous
July 12 2009, 11:11:26 UTC
Thank you for liking the Silencer tribute :) That was my first fill so I was really nervous, and I was surprised by all those nice comments from the wonderful anons.
OCs are very tricky indeed, but Alex is very interesting and relevant to the storyline. Oh boy, can't wait for things to go rock-and-roll. And I can see how the presidents and the nations would influence each other, especially since Alex grew up around Alfred. Brain-power X 2; things are going to be fun :P
Re: Wild Justice (part 6)
anonymous
July 13 2009, 18:15:13 UTC
This is one of my favorite fills EVER. EVER EVER EVER. I have to repeat that because I have followed the meme since the beginning. Your OC is perfect and like someone above said I'm kind of sad we won't see much of him in later parts. The reason is that you've made him so focused/devoted/obssessed? with America and I love that type of view from someone inside the story. I am refreshing this fill all the time in hopes that I'll see an update. I can't wait to see America dominate ALL of them. Thank you thank you thank you. I love you and would like to marry you. LOL.
Re: Wild Justice (part 6)
anonymous
July 14 2009, 01:45:40 UTC
This is one of my favorite fills EVER. EVER EVER EVER. I have to repeat that because I have followed the meme since the beginning. Your OC is perfect and like someone above said I'm kind of sad we won't see much of him in later parts. The reason is that you've made him so focused/devoted/obssessed? with America and I love that type of view from someone inside the story. I am refreshing this fill all the time in hopes that I'll see an update. I can't wait to see America dominate ALL of them. Thank you thank you thank you. I love you and would like to marry you. LOL.
Re: Wild Justice (part 6)
anonymous
July 14 2009, 05:22:50 UTC
OMG anon! I love love love Alex so much! He must be one of the (very rare) good OC that I have ever seen! And your story, I just know it's gonna be nothing short of EPIC!!! Please give us more Alex anon, we all love him!
Wild Justice (part 7)
anonymous
July 17 2009, 23:28:37 UTC
The G9 Nations and their Bosses had a meeting together, one that didn't show up on the official itinerary - something kept secret from the media and from most of their staff. This pre-meeting was highly informal, compared to most of their interactions. The whole point was for the Bosses and the Nations to mingle and talk, with the Nations recognized _as_ Nations, instead of their guises as aides or bodyguards or whatever cover they used.
It would be the first time Johnston had ever met any Nation aside from his own or Canada. At least - the first time he met them as Nations.
England stared at him for long minutes while the introductions were made, enough that his Prime Minister hissed at him to stop staring. He was sure he had seen Johnston before - in person, not just on the telly or in pictures. (Everyone had seen his image before - the media was going mad over him.)
But - no - he….England furrowed his heavy brows, and thought - and remembered.
***
One of the diplomats from the British Embassy was making a visit to a colleague over at the American; it was evidently something of a personal visit, for he brought his son along. England smoothly inserted himself into the little party, the way any Nation could with their own people; he wanted to see what the big lug had been up to. Surely he was back on his feet by now?
The mood at the American Embassy was decidedly subdued. People didn't want to meet their eyes, walked with their heads bowed. England, mostly ignored - he'd wanted to be - stuck close to the diplomat, Peter Hills, who was talking with his friend. Johnston, was it? That was an Irish name, he thought idly. Sometimes it still irritated him how bloody …well, fawning, America could be towards England's red-haired sister.
"This place is in a bright mood," Hills observed to his friend.
Johnston sighed. "Lay off, Peter. Something happened a few days ago, spooked a lot of people. It wasn't pretty."
"Oh?" Hills said, cocking his head in interest.
"Yeah, I…oh hey, there's Alex. Alex!" Johnston called his son over. "Look, Douglas is here," he said cheerily, indicating Hills' son. "Why don't you go play."
Both boys pulled a face at the childish instructions, but obediently walked away from their fathers. England paid them hardly any mind. He was waiting for more information. An incident that had upset the Americans this much? It must have been Alfred.
"Something not fit for their innocent minds?" Peter asked, still amused.
"No," Johnston said.
Then he told Hills about the boy - Alfred Jones, they found out his name was - who'd been found violently beaten and gang-raped, staggering around empty streets covered in blood and filth and other…things. And how he'd been wheeled back to the embassy in front of so many eyes - "I don't know, it was weird, we were all up. There'd been a party in the Embassy, it ended late, so there were people going home, security staff, caterers. I'd brought Alex along. And we all saw it - it was horrible. No one can seem to forget it." His voice was sincerely horrified - and a little confused.
"Do you think it's an insurgent group - targeting Westerners?" Hills asked, his eyes intent.
"I don't know. And we can't ask him - he's been flown back Stateside by the way - but we sent an official along to take a statement. He was so traumatized by the attack that the shock and trauma seems to have given him short-term amnesia. He couldn't remember a thing."
England blinked. And blinked again. And tried to decide what he was feeling.
Hills and Johnston were still talking, but a sudden angry shout from beside them drew their attention. Their heads whipped around, and jaws dropped, when they saw Alex sitting on top of Douglas Hills and whaling away at the older, bigger, stronger boy.
"Alex!" Johnston yelped, running over to bodily haul his son away. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
Wild Justice (part 7b)
anonymous
July 17 2009, 23:30:43 UTC
"He was badmouthing the States," Alex raged, still fighting against his father's hands. "How dare he! What's so great about England, huh? At least America is…" Flushing hotly, Johnston clapped a hand over his son's raving.
Hills, after looking his son over and finding little damage - Alex was younger, and rather small for his age too - found it in himself to smile down at the little spitfire. "Quite a fiery little patriot you've got there, Ken."
Johnston scowled and shook his son like a terrier shakes a rat. "He's no patriot - not for this. Just a rude little boy who I'm very ashamed of. Your punishment is going to be one for the books, boyo."
But Alex, glaring with blue eyes that burned, didn't seem to hear him.
***
England felt his jaw hanging open. He hadn't thought about that fight in years. The more important news had been that America didn't remember anything - news he'd shared with everyone else who'd been - there. America hadn't remembered but America had been subdued, calmed by the - treatment. There had been no awkward apologies to make, no reparations, just a mutual decision to continue business as usual and avoid anything that may trigger his memory.
But - had that little 'fiery patriot', as Hills put it, grown up to be the war-hero superstar President of the United States?
What tangled webs fate wove.
But there was no way Alex could have remembered him from that day, so he smiled and stuck his hand out for the President to shake.
***
Sorry for the lameness, but had to get the set-up on how the countries dealt with America right after. And I want to thank everyone who's been soothing me about Alex. :D
America rolled his eyes when Alex - he'd always be Alex to him - said this. Same old song and dance from that last and proud bastion of Glorious Communism, made even more tiresome to those who'd lived through it before. Another handover of power, another show of strength against the American imperialist dogs to facilitate it. So little had changed, just window-dressing, it was like deja vu.
There was a long pause, America sipping at his mug of Kahlua and coffee, (he tended to sneak alcohol in most of his drinks now) Alex standing at the window, his hands clasped behind his back. "Project Fifty's ahead of schedule," Alex said, softly.
America sat up. Project Fifty - named for Area 51's legend, or the fifty states of the Union, or some other obscure reason - no one knew at this point - was the blackest of black operations. Its secrecy was multi-layered and guarded ruthlessly; another legend for the name was that fifty people had already been killed to protect it, he knew. That was wrong - they'd passed that number already. They drugged, lied, doctored media, all to protect the mysteries of Project Fifty. Project Fifty's people worked in secret, moved in shadows, were his first, last, best line of defense.
Project Fifty was America's Research and Development program for extraterrestrial technology - his fabled "Men in Black". Alex was extraordinarily well equipped to assess Project Fifty's progress - he'd been involved with it himself, using his battle experience to help adapt the new technology for terrestrial combat purposes, develop protocols for teaching soldiers how to use said new technology when the time came.
Which might be now.
America felt a thrill of dark excitement go up and down his spine, a feeling he hadn't allowed himself very often since - since that Day. Letting himself get excited was, as Germany would have put it, verboten. It led to reckless actions, dangerous actions - actions the rest of the world would resent and boil over. He couldn't afford it.
He hadn't been able to afford it. But - perhaps - now?
The President turned around and saw his country smiling, a thin sharp-edged smile, a smile he so rarely got to see and never for so long, with a new, splendid light in those blue-sky eyes, and he wanted to preserve that smile forever.
"North Korea may be the catalyst," he murmured. "It may not. But we are ready if it is."
"I've been ready for years," America answered, standing and joining his Boss at the window. They looked out over the White House lawn, and there was understanding between them.
"I'll put the Armed Forces on alert, code Yellow."
America turned and saluted his leader.
***
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He, and America, arrived neatly in the middle of things, when half the leaders were there and half weren't - neither early nor fashionably late. Although their leaders weren't all assembled, however, the other eight countries of the G9 had been there early, and were grouped together as they watched the black US helicopter land on the helipad, disgorging several intense young Secret Service agents who swept the location with eyes and handheld scanners and even a black German Shepherd before one spoke into his collar radio-tag and signalled for the President to emerge.
"Paranoid, aren't they?" murmured France.
"I've heard the new President is more security conscious than the last," Canada volunteered.
"He should be, he has more life to lose than most," muttered Romano. "Holy Christ! The man's only thirty-two years old! Twelve years ago he wouldn't have been eligible to run for office in America at all."
The other Nations murmured something like agreement as the President finally emerged from his helicopter. If anything, he looked younger than his thirty-two years. Alfred followed close behind his Boss, both dressed in well-fitting dark suits. They looked very alike, and very young, as they both walked towards the conference hall, heads bent close together as they walked, obviously having a discussion.
The eight countries watched in open curiousity. This was the first time most of them had seen the young President in person.
"You know something?" Canada said, idly. He had actually met Johnston - the tradition of the first international visit going to Canada had been upheld. "That man's eyes are almost the same color as Alfred's. It's sort of funny when they're both looking at you."
It was a minor note, a throwaway observation.
And then they were filing out, going back downstairs to meet with Alfred and his new President. Only Russia and China, the other two superpowers - the one who had clung hard to old power, clung and kept it and built it up again, the other who had risen like a phoenix from the flames of former weakness - stayed up, watching the third superpower of the world laugh and joke with his beloved Boss.
"There is another reason, I think," Russia murmured quietly, in a voice pitched for China's ears alone, "Why this man acts as if he moves on a battlefield."
"And it is…?"
"He has been on battlefields," Russia replied simply, watching the way Johnston moved, wondering if the man was armed. "He is a soldier, this one."
"Mmm," China murmured in vague agreement, but his eyes were intent.
Russia continued, "And America is beginning to move like him." They exchanged long glances then looked down to where America and his Boss were entering the hall. America, the capitalist - he hated wars now, they knew. They were messy, and unprofitable. He never went to battle unless the UN said to.
And there had been that - chastening, all those years before. It had worked, had it not?
The two superpowers watched America, moving with an assured ease he had not had for years, and wondered.
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I wonder what is the significance of Alex's resemblance to Alfred, but I can imagine how it will be a little weird to have two pairs of bright blue eyes staring at you (I LOVE Alfred's eyes, btw).
I really liked Russia's observation... and how Alfred seems to be so happy with Alex. Can't wait for the next wonderful chapter!
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And yes, things are going to move soon. I have to thank you for your nice comment - oh man, I am so glad that YOU like it - especially about Alex, as I was really nervous as to how readers would mind having an OC so much in the story. So, thanks!
Alex's resemblance to Alfred is, like, something half-chance - he was born with blue eyes - but because he's been hanging around Alfred so much, they're beginning to influence each other.
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That was my first fill so I was really nervous, and I was surprised by all those nice comments from the wonderful anons.
OCs are very tricky indeed, but Alex is very interesting and relevant to the storyline. Oh boy, can't wait for things to go rock-and-roll. And I can see how the presidents and the nations would influence each other, especially since Alex grew up around Alfred. Brain-power X 2; things are going to be fun :P
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Wow, so far, anon. I didn't think this would pique me, but it most certainly has.
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It would be the first time Johnston had ever met any Nation aside from his own or Canada. At least - the first time he met them as Nations.
England stared at him for long minutes while the introductions were made, enough that his Prime Minister hissed at him to stop staring. He was sure he had seen Johnston before - in person, not just on the telly or in pictures. (Everyone had seen his image before - the media was going mad over him.)
But - no - he….England furrowed his heavy brows, and thought - and remembered.
***
One of the diplomats from the British Embassy was making a visit to a colleague over at the American; it was evidently something of a personal visit, for he brought his son along. England smoothly inserted himself into the little party, the way any Nation could with their own people; he wanted to see what the big lug had been up to. Surely he was back on his feet by now?
The mood at the American Embassy was decidedly subdued. People didn't want to meet their eyes, walked with their heads bowed. England, mostly ignored - he'd wanted to be - stuck close to the diplomat, Peter Hills, who was talking with his friend. Johnston, was it? That was an Irish name, he thought idly. Sometimes it still irritated him how bloody …well, fawning, America could be towards England's red-haired sister.
"This place is in a bright mood," Hills observed to his friend.
Johnston sighed. "Lay off, Peter. Something happened a few days ago, spooked a lot of people. It wasn't pretty."
"Oh?" Hills said, cocking his head in interest.
"Yeah, I…oh hey, there's Alex. Alex!" Johnston called his son over. "Look, Douglas is here," he said cheerily, indicating Hills' son. "Why don't you go play."
Both boys pulled a face at the childish instructions, but obediently walked away from their fathers. England paid them hardly any mind. He was waiting for more information. An incident that had upset the Americans this much? It must have been Alfred.
"Something not fit for their innocent minds?" Peter asked, still amused.
"No," Johnston said.
Then he told Hills about the boy - Alfred Jones, they found out his name was - who'd been found violently beaten and gang-raped, staggering around empty streets covered in blood and filth and other…things. And how he'd been wheeled back to the embassy in front of so many eyes - "I don't know, it was weird, we were all up. There'd been a party in the Embassy, it ended late, so there were people going home, security staff, caterers. I'd brought Alex along. And we all saw it - it was horrible. No one can seem to forget it." His voice was sincerely horrified - and a little confused.
"Do you think it's an insurgent group - targeting Westerners?" Hills asked, his eyes intent.
"I don't know. And we can't ask him - he's been flown back Stateside by the way - but we sent an official along to take a statement. He was so traumatized by the attack that the shock and trauma seems to have given him short-term amnesia. He couldn't remember a thing."
England blinked. And blinked again. And tried to decide what he was feeling.
Hills and Johnston were still talking, but a sudden angry shout from beside them drew their attention. Their heads whipped around, and jaws dropped, when they saw Alex sitting on top of Douglas Hills and whaling away at the older, bigger, stronger boy.
"Alex!" Johnston yelped, running over to bodily haul his son away. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
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Hills, after looking his son over and finding little damage - Alex was younger, and rather small for his age too - found it in himself to smile down at the little spitfire. "Quite a fiery little patriot you've got there, Ken."
Johnston scowled and shook his son like a terrier shakes a rat. "He's no patriot - not for this. Just a rude little boy who I'm very ashamed of. Your punishment is going to be one for the books, boyo."
But Alex, glaring with blue eyes that burned, didn't seem to hear him.
***
England felt his jaw hanging open. He hadn't thought about that fight in years. The more important news had been that America didn't remember anything - news he'd shared with everyone else who'd been - there. America hadn't remembered but America had been subdued, calmed by the - treatment. There had been no awkward apologies to make, no reparations, just a mutual decision to continue business as usual and avoid anything that may trigger his memory.
But - had that little 'fiery patriot', as Hills put it, grown up to be the war-hero superstar President of the United States?
What tangled webs fate wove.
But there was no way Alex could have remembered him from that day, so he smiled and stuck his hand out for the President to shake.
***
Sorry for the lameness, but had to get the set-up on how the countries dealt with America right after. And I want to thank everyone who's been soothing me about Alex. :D
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If the memory is of importance, children will NEVER forget!
Dammit the tension is building down here!
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Keep it up! Alex is one of those rare OC's who just belong in a fanfic :D
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