[Fanfic] Out of the Shadows (Chapter 1)
Title: Out of the Shadows
Characters: America, England, Canada, Australia, Russia
Rating: I'd say probably a pg-13, might go higher later on though
Warnings: This chapter? Not much but a bit of language. Later though? Violence, language, (hopefully) scary or disturbing imagery
Summary: When Alfred is dared to stay in a haunted house overnight he gets more than he bargained for.
_____
"Dude, you sure you're not just lost?" asked America, glancing down at the hastily written down directions.
Australia responded without looking over, "For the last time mate, I know where we're going. It should be just around the bend."
America looked out the window at the dark crimson and brown leaves sent flying by their rental car. They had been on the same two lane road for a half an hour it seemed, but he didn't remember the people at the motel saying their destination was so far out of town. He looked back down at the slip of paper in his hands and the small pieces which dotted his blue jeans. Brushing away the notebook fringe he had been subconsciously picking at, he settled further down into the seat.
"Yeah, well you said that 10 minutes ago too."
"Pay no mind to America. He is simply anxious," added Russia from the back seat. Although America couldn't see Russia's face the mocking tone was clear.
"Yeah, anxious to prove your ass wrong," America countered, propping his feet up on the dashboard.
"Relax, it's just one night" Australia said with a grin. "Or you can back out now if you want".
America crossed his arms and laughed, "Like hell". Yeah, and like hell he'd admit that his stomach was in knots. Damn his ego. He looked back out the window and leaned his head back against the seat. If he had been smart he never would have let Australia and Russia talk him into the bet to begin with. That night at the bar had started off okay, but then he had started talking ("bragging", an inner voice sounding suspiciously like Canada supplied) about his latest film project and things went downhill.
"So you've covered a lot of subjects, huh?" Australia asked, staring down at his glass contemplatively.
"Well yeah", America replied, a little surprised. He admittedly could, and often did, talk about his films for hours, but it was a rare event for someone to actually encourage it. Of course, he wasn't about to complain. "I mean, I've been doing it for a while now, so that just kind of happens, you know." He picked up his beer and took a sip. "Why?"
Australia shrugged. "Just thinking. You've shown me a lot of them, but I think there's a subject you've missed," he said, glancing over at Russia, who sat on the other side of America with several shot glasses of vodka. "Or avoided".
"I don't care how much Francis tries, I'm not-"
"No, No!" Australia exclaimed, holding up his hands as if to ward off the images that came, unbidden, to his mind. "God, don't even say it. If it's France I don't want to know."
Russia downed a shot of vodka, then spoke, "I don't believe he was speaking of that. Perhaps instead he was referring to the supernatural."
"Huh? Yeah, I-"
"Not aliens." Australia said. "I mean ghosts, ghouls, stuff like that."
America laughed loudly, hoping to hide the fact that he had just felt his stomach drop. "Yeah, well, none of that stuff is real anyway. It's just someone making up a good story. It'd be a waste of time."
"But don't stories normally have a grain of truth?"
"Yeah, probably someone heard a mouse and blew it up into Mr. Boogedy" America replied, trying to ignore the moisture he already felt on his palms.
Australia reached over and put an arm on America's shoulder, leaning in towards him. "So if all that stuff is fake then it wouldn't be a problem to take on a new project, say a debunking of sorts," Australia's grin widened. "Unless of course, your disbelief isn't the problem at all."
America jerked the shoulder Australia was leaning heavily upon, in a half-hearted attempt to shake him free, then gave up and simply shrugged. "Sure. Why not? I'll make a few calls and get some people together and-"
"Nyet," Russia interrupted. "You will go alone."
The other two nations turned towards Russia. America's eyebrows furrowed. "You know, it's a little hard being a one man film crew. I don't typically go for the whole Blair Witch look, you know."
"Why not?" asked Australia. "Expand your creative horizons." He swept his left arm out in a grand gesture, nearly knocking over a bowl of peanuts in the process. "Or just go Parnormal Activity on it and set up a bunch of cameras."
"Unless," said Russia, "You're as much of a coward as-"
"I'll do it," said America, perhaps a little too forcefully, considering the way Australia jumped. He glared at Russia for a minute before turning back to his beer. Noting Australia's raised eyebrows he paused, drink halfway to his lips, and put on his most arrogant grin. "Can't let people think that about the hero right?"
"There it is," said Australia, pointing towards a dingy white two-story coming into view on the left side of the road. He slowed the car and pulled off onto a grassy patch on the shoulder.
America opened his door and stepped out, taking care to avoid the steep drop-off on the passenger side. By the time he had gotten around the car Australia was already standing at the iron gate, looking up at the house.
"This is it?" asked Australia without turning around.
"You picked the place Oz, not me," said America walking up beside Australia and putting a hand on the gate.
"Yeah well, it's just not quite what I was expecting," he replied, looking past the fence to the overgrown yard and dilapidated house. "I mean, yeah, it's old and run down, but somehow I was expecting something a little more-"
"Appearances can be deceiving, da?" said Russia who had come up behind them, smiling.
Australia smiled back and grabbed America's arm, pulling him across the road. "You know," he said in a low voice, glancing back towards Russia. "When we planned this I didn't think about the fact that I'd be stuck with him for twenty four hours." He fished around in his jacket pocket for the car key, then continued, "Sure you don't want to back out? I think he might just be scarier than anything in there."
America shook his head, reaching into the trunk and handing a box to Australia. "We can exchange horror stories tomorrow," he said, smiling. "I'm sure you and Ruskie will have a great time."
"You're a bastard."
"Takes one to know one."
America watched Australia's back as he walked across the road, then glanced up at the house, letting his smile drop. He looked back towards the trunk with a shiver. He wished he could agree with Australia about who was facing down the worst, but he also couldn't deny the fact that the cold he had felt from Ivan in the past was no comparison to the chill he got from that house.
___________________________________________________________________________
Authors Notes: Okay, so hopefully this sounds okay. I'm still a little uncertain about it, but figured it would probably be best to go ahead and put this up anyway. Oh, and I'm probably showing my age here by saying this, but Mr. Boogedy is a reference to a character from the mid-80's Disney movie, which is also titled "Mr Boogedy". Erm... and right now I'm keeping the rating around T or pg-13, but it might be bumped up later, probably for violence and/or language, not sexual content. Sorry if I got your hopes up for a second there.
Characters: America, England, Canada, Australia, Russia
Rating: I'd say probably a pg-13, might go higher later on though
Warnings: This chapter? Not much but a bit of language. Later though? Violence, language, (hopefully) scary or disturbing imagery
Summary: When Alfred is dared to stay in a haunted house overnight he gets more than he bargained for.
_____
"Dude, you sure you're not just lost?" asked America, glancing down at the hastily written down directions.
Australia responded without looking over, "For the last time mate, I know where we're going. It should be just around the bend."
America looked out the window at the dark crimson and brown leaves sent flying by their rental car. They had been on the same two lane road for a half an hour it seemed, but he didn't remember the people at the motel saying their destination was so far out of town. He looked back down at the slip of paper in his hands and the small pieces which dotted his blue jeans. Brushing away the notebook fringe he had been subconsciously picking at, he settled further down into the seat.
"Yeah, well you said that 10 minutes ago too."
"Pay no mind to America. He is simply anxious," added Russia from the back seat. Although America couldn't see Russia's face the mocking tone was clear.
"Yeah, anxious to prove your ass wrong," America countered, propping his feet up on the dashboard.
"Relax, it's just one night" Australia said with a grin. "Or you can back out now if you want".
America crossed his arms and laughed, "Like hell". Yeah, and like hell he'd admit that his stomach was in knots. Damn his ego. He looked back out the window and leaned his head back against the seat. If he had been smart he never would have let Australia and Russia talk him into the bet to begin with. That night at the bar had started off okay, but then he had started talking ("bragging", an inner voice sounding suspiciously like Canada supplied) about his latest film project and things went downhill.
"So you've covered a lot of subjects, huh?" Australia asked, staring down at his glass contemplatively.
"Well yeah", America replied, a little surprised. He admittedly could, and often did, talk about his films for hours, but it was a rare event for someone to actually encourage it. Of course, he wasn't about to complain. "I mean, I've been doing it for a while now, so that just kind of happens, you know." He picked up his beer and took a sip. "Why?"
Australia shrugged. "Just thinking. You've shown me a lot of them, but I think there's a subject you've missed," he said, glancing over at Russia, who sat on the other side of America with several shot glasses of vodka. "Or avoided".
"I don't care how much Francis tries, I'm not-"
"No, No!" Australia exclaimed, holding up his hands as if to ward off the images that came, unbidden, to his mind. "God, don't even say it. If it's France I don't want to know."
Russia downed a shot of vodka, then spoke, "I don't believe he was speaking of that. Perhaps instead he was referring to the supernatural."
"Huh? Yeah, I-"
"Not aliens." Australia said. "I mean ghosts, ghouls, stuff like that."
America laughed loudly, hoping to hide the fact that he had just felt his stomach drop. "Yeah, well, none of that stuff is real anyway. It's just someone making up a good story. It'd be a waste of time."
"But don't stories normally have a grain of truth?"
"Yeah, probably someone heard a mouse and blew it up into Mr. Boogedy" America replied, trying to ignore the moisture he already felt on his palms.
Australia reached over and put an arm on America's shoulder, leaning in towards him. "So if all that stuff is fake then it wouldn't be a problem to take on a new project, say a debunking of sorts," Australia's grin widened. "Unless of course, your disbelief isn't the problem at all."
America jerked the shoulder Australia was leaning heavily upon, in a half-hearted attempt to shake him free, then gave up and simply shrugged. "Sure. Why not? I'll make a few calls and get some people together and-"
"Nyet," Russia interrupted. "You will go alone."
The other two nations turned towards Russia. America's eyebrows furrowed. "You know, it's a little hard being a one man film crew. I don't typically go for the whole Blair Witch look, you know."
"Why not?" asked Australia. "Expand your creative horizons." He swept his left arm out in a grand gesture, nearly knocking over a bowl of peanuts in the process. "Or just go Parnormal Activity on it and set up a bunch of cameras."
"Unless," said Russia, "You're as much of a coward as-"
"I'll do it," said America, perhaps a little too forcefully, considering the way Australia jumped. He glared at Russia for a minute before turning back to his beer. Noting Australia's raised eyebrows he paused, drink halfway to his lips, and put on his most arrogant grin. "Can't let people think that about the hero right?"
"There it is," said Australia, pointing towards a dingy white two-story coming into view on the left side of the road. He slowed the car and pulled off onto a grassy patch on the shoulder.
America opened his door and stepped out, taking care to avoid the steep drop-off on the passenger side. By the time he had gotten around the car Australia was already standing at the iron gate, looking up at the house.
"This is it?" asked Australia without turning around.
"You picked the place Oz, not me," said America walking up beside Australia and putting a hand on the gate.
"Yeah well, it's just not quite what I was expecting," he replied, looking past the fence to the overgrown yard and dilapidated house. "I mean, yeah, it's old and run down, but somehow I was expecting something a little more-"
"Appearances can be deceiving, da?" said Russia who had come up behind them, smiling.
Australia smiled back and grabbed America's arm, pulling him across the road. "You know," he said in a low voice, glancing back towards Russia. "When we planned this I didn't think about the fact that I'd be stuck with him for twenty four hours." He fished around in his jacket pocket for the car key, then continued, "Sure you don't want to back out? I think he might just be scarier than anything in there."
America shook his head, reaching into the trunk and handing a box to Australia. "We can exchange horror stories tomorrow," he said, smiling. "I'm sure you and Ruskie will have a great time."
"You're a bastard."
"Takes one to know one."
America watched Australia's back as he walked across the road, then glanced up at the house, letting his smile drop. He looked back towards the trunk with a shiver. He wished he could agree with Australia about who was facing down the worst, but he also couldn't deny the fact that the cold he had felt from Ivan in the past was no comparison to the chill he got from that house.
___________________________________________________________________________
Authors Notes: Okay, so hopefully this sounds okay. I'm still a little uncertain about it, but figured it would probably be best to go ahead and put this up anyway. Oh, and I'm probably showing my age here by saying this, but Mr. Boogedy is a reference to a character from the mid-80's Disney movie, which is also titled "Mr Boogedy". Erm... and right now I'm keeping the rating around T or pg-13, but it might be bumped up later, probably for violence and/or language, not sexual content. Sorry if I got your hopes up for a second there.