Unwilling Hero (Part 1/??)
Title: Unwilling Hero (1/??)
Author/Artist: starfoxx322 and pixystixys
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England, (UsUk) and Russia
Rating: PG-13 (Probably M overall for mentions of sex and mentions of rape)
Warnings: Language, violence, MAJOR angst,
Summary: Russia wants a world war and only America can give it to him. How far will they both go to get what they want?
The year was 2010, a peaceful time, or so everyone thought. Yes, there had been many natural disasters, and America was fighting in far too many wars for England’s taste. World meetings still got countries nowhere, besides the janitors’ closet three doors down and on the left side of the hall, if they were lucky. Celebrities caused scandals, the general population lived out their daily lives, people tried to help each other while other tried to hurt. In short, life was as it always was until one day when America received a completely unexpected invitation.
Seemingly out of the blue, Russia had called America to his house to discuss something, a matter he refused to go into further detail over. America, therefore, expected a sort of new trade agreement or some other diplomatic measure of the like. It was definitely odd, seeing as the two of them hadn’t got along very well since the end of the Cold War. They were civil, oh yes, but it was a type of civility that hid a deep resentment. The only reason it hadn’t broken out into an all out fight was because England was good at holding America back, and Russia wouldn’t go farther than taunting unless America made the first move. The only reason that America had even bothered to go to Russia today was that his boss had leapt at a chance for at friendly foreign policy with the larger nation.
The winter air was cold enough to cut straight through one’s clothes when America arrived at Russia’s house, but then again, this was to be expected. Wanting to appear confident in front of his onetime enemy, America strode through the door of the big house with his characteristic grin on his face. He had been told to meet Russia in his office, but when America knocked on the door that he thought led to Russia’s study, there was no answer.
“Um, Russia? You in there? Commie~?” he asked in a tone that some could consider nervous. Of course, he wasn’t nervous, because he was a hero and heroes were never afraid. No, America was simply being cautious around a very old and slightly insane enemy.
“Oh, hello there, comrade!” Russia came up behind him with silent footsteps, causing America to jump at the sound of the faux cheerful voice behind him.
“You told me to meet you in your office…?” He said, quickly regaining his composure. It wouldn’t do to appear afraid when he very obviously was not.
Russia smiled in a way America did not entirely feel comfortable with and opened the door and gestured for America to enter. “Oh yes, come in.”
America eyed him strangely. The cheerful disposition was usual, but there was something different about it. When he entered the office he saw what it was immediately. Half the room had no furniture in order to accommodate the chains on the wall.
America did not like this situation at all and decided it was time to get out before something seriously freaky happened. “Um, maybe I should go…” He didn’t give Russia a chance to answer and turned to make a dash for the door, but since Russia was standing behind him, the larger country beat him there and locked it.
Undeterred from him plan of escape America ran to the window and kicked it out, trying desperately to get away, but Russia snuck up behind him and hit him on the back of his head with the metal pipe he carried everywhere. America’s vision went blurry and he stumbled a bit, managing to stay on the verge of consciousness. Russia had only hit America hard enough that he would lose his bearings, not pass out, it seemed.
“I don't think so comrade!” the tall blonde man practically sang. Who the hell talks like that when they just brained someone with a pipe? America wondered. “We have much more to do here!” the Russian continued, missing America’s internal insults.
Even though he was still extremely dizzy, America attempted to scamper out the window. “LIKE WHAT?! YOU GONNA RAPE ME?!” he yelled back at Russia, then paused. “Actually, don't answer that.” He had one hand on the window frame and was beginning to pull himself up when he was grabbed by the legs and dragged back into the room.
In the fashion of a true megalomaniacal evil villain Russia proceeded to chain America to the wall. “No, not you~!” he responded cheerily to America’s previous question
Although he normally would have been worried about the poor soul that Russia planned to “visit” in the near future, the self proclaimed hero had other things to worry about at the moment. He futilely struggled against the chains. “LET ME GO!!!” he snapped, glaring at his captor.
A terrifying smirk appeared on Russia’s face and there was a brief flash of insanity in his eyes. “Nyet comrade, we have hardly started yet.” He crossed to the other side of the room and reclined in his office chair, as if they were simply having a business meeting instead of America being treated as a prisoner.
America continued to try and escape the chains. “I DON'T WANNA EVEN START!!!”
Russia ignored the outburst, as if America was only a little child and Russia was the unconcerned parent. His gaze traveled off to the side for a short moment. “He should be here any moment...”
Upon hearing those words and the odd tone in which they were said, a sudden tinge of fear struck America. It was perhaps completely irrational, because of course Russia couldn’t have…
The sound of Russia’s voice, a mix of something sweet and something sinister, cut into America’s thoughts. “Our guest of honor, that is,” Russia answered the questioning look America had given. Russia smiled a creepy smile, one that America had seen far more than he cared to.
Still smiling that awful smile, the Russian propped his elbow on one of his chair’s arms, resting his chin in his palm. He continued on. “Then we can begin, da?”
America’s hero senses were tingling all over, screaming that Russia had taken someone special to the American prisoner, but America wasn’t going to let himself believe it. There was no way anyone but himself was in danger. This was just another one of Russia’s mind games.
“W-Who?” he stuttered, trying and failing not let his growing sense of panic show in his voice.
Russia’s grin just broadened. In a way, America’s fears became reality at that second. Perhaps it was a sixth sense or a bond between lovers but America knew. He had England. No, maybe he didn’t! Part of America hoped, still not wanting to acknowledge it. “Y-You didn't...” he trailed, not wanting to finish that sentence. As long as neither of them said it, England was still safe.
The grin simply widened and Russia sat back in his chair, satisfied. That was answer enough. “I very well may have~” he replied in a sing song voice, almost like a child trying to make his parents guess what he found in the sandbox.
All sense of everything except England’s well being immediately shut off and America thrashed against the chains, putting all his considerable strength into it, needing to get free. “YOU BASTARD!!!”
The cheery grin turned into an evil smirk. “Hehehe, so you have figured out?”
He pulled against the chains with more force, determined to snap them with his will power and the strength of his love if nothing else. “LET HIM GO!!!”
“Nyet, I cannot,” Russia replied calmly, the sweet yet sinister smile returning to his face. He stood and crossed the room to stand in front of America. The young man wanted nothing more than to punch the smile off and grind it into the ground as Russia screamed in pain. That… that son of a bitch took England! Oh, if only his chains would free, he would show that commie bastard why you did not mess with America’s loved ones. But the rational part of him said (in a delightful British accent that sounded almost exactly like England’s) that he was trapped for the moment and his anger wasn’t going to get him anywhere or help the situation. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, for England’s sake. He felt his rage boil down and the true emotion his fury had masked rose to the surface.
There was no other way to describe it, except the feeling one gets when they are walking up the stairs and he thinks there is another step, when in reality there is not. For a second, one’s foot plummets through empty space and a mixture of fear, shock, and dread pierce one’s heart and sink straight through his stomach. The only difference was while the feeling at the top of the steps was momentary, this one would not go away. America didn’t want to seem weak in the eyes of his enemy, but he felt he had to do something, even if it hurt his pride. He had to…for England’s sake.
“Why...? I-I'll do anything,” he asked, afraid of what Russia might ask for in compensation, but more than willing to give it up so that he could hold England safe in his arms again.
There was a definite smirk upon Russia’s face, and America felt as if he was being laughed at as Russia replied. “Because, our little friend is very useful. And you will do anything, I can guarantee that, comrade.”
America could feel his heart slowly tearing in two as each of Russia’s denials put England farther and farther away from him. He decided to try pleading, even using his pet name for England. “Let Iggy go....” It was horribly demeaning begging an enemy like this, but America did not care. He would do anything to save England.
“I will not. He is useful to me,” came the completely unconcerned reply.
This confused America. This constant fight between himself and his old opponent had nothing to do with England, and England would never betray America. “How?” he asked weakly.
“He gives me complete control over you. It is very simple comrade. If you do not do what I ask, I will kill him.” The way in which Russia proclaimed this, as if he were simply announcing the time of day was completely disconcerting. It was a life he was talking about! A living breathing human being. The way he could completely disregarded that completely disgusted America. He was scared for England’s sake, frustrated at his own inability to do anything. If Russia had England, America knew he would do anything the other man asked if it meant keeping England safe.
It was all too much. Tears started to find their way down America’s face. “You bastard,” he murmured, not caring that he was showing weakness.
Russia, obviously delighted that America was crying before him continued, “And this is not your silly little movies. When I say I will kill him, I am serious, unlike those so-called villains in your movies. Do you understand?”
America nodded pitifully, feeling so idiotic for going along with this. But what else could he do? The two of them had spent almost half a century holding guns to each other’s head, waiting for the enemy to pull the trigger so that they both could go down in flames. It was nearly the same now, except America was unarmed and Russia was just waiting to be provoked so that he could pull the trigger.
“Ahahaha, this will be so much fun comrade! I will enjoy tearing you apart, very much. So where to begin~?” America tugged at the chains again, all to no avail. Russia laughed at his pitiful attempts at freeing himself and waved his pipe.
America glared at him, yelling, “You bastard!”
Russia merely smiled as he picked up a file folder from his desk. “Do not resist.” He flipped through the file. “ To begin, I would like you to send your good friend Kiku a couple presents.”
America wasn’t going to let his fighting spirit be broken. He gave his signature smirk, saying, “What would those be, asshole?”
“One goes to Hiroshima. The other to Nagasaki,” Russia listed off pleasantly, like he was listing off groceries, or what movies he’d like to see, not the destruction of one of America’s best friends. America didn’t say anything. Russia wanted him…to repeat history? “Do you understand it yet? What I am asking you to do comrade?”
America scoffed. “Those bombs.” He remembered the first time. It was horrible. Japan hadn’t been able look at him for weeks. There were still scars on Japan’s body and it pained him to talk about it, even though he had completely forgiven America long ago. Of course Russia would want to recreate that. The bastard would enjoy it too, watching as they suffered and laughing at their misery.
“Yes. I wonder how the world will react...” Russia smiled, looking off into the mid-distance, as if he could imagine it now. “The hero has just bombed his best friend for no reason.” He continued idly. “That should be enough to start a world war, don't you think?” His smile became almost peaceful at the thought of his sick dream becoming reality.
America snarled at the Russian, bringing the larger man back to reality. “Another world war....you make me sick.” America proceeded to spit on Russia’s face.
Russia completely froze. America couldn’t see his eyes, but he could tell that there was a drastic change in mood sweeping over the Russian. “That was insulting, comrade.” He spat as he smacked America across the face. “I think you need a lesson in manners...” He continued, his tone completely cold and void of all emotion. “Kolkolkolkolkol....Bring in the prisoner!”
America’s eyes widened in fear as he pulled against the chains. “NO!”
“Oh, yes,” said Russia in a voice that chilled the American to the bone.
America watched in horror as England was dragged into the room. He was badly bruised, his hair was mussed, his clothes were torn, and not in his orderly gentleman fashion at all. Blood smeared his cheek, both dried and blood freshly spilt. Almost unable to stand the sight, America cried out in terror, “Iggy!”
England pitifully looked up at the sound of America’s pet name for him. His normally stunning emerald eyes were dull, almost lifeless. “A-Alfred? Did he get you too?” He whispered, his voice sounding as broken as his body. America was no longer worried for himself, not even in the slightest. Right now, England needed care much more that he did needed England. America responded in a gentle tone. “I'm fine....you look horrible.” He wanted to run over to England, hold him in his arms, tell him everything was alright, stroke his hair, kiss him, and do whatever it took to make him better.
He raised his voice and turned his attention back towards Russia. “You'll pay for this!!!” he snapped, trying once again to break free from the chains so that he could kick Russia’s ass.
Russia laughed as he walked towards America, standing just out of his reach, infuriating his captive even more. “Ahhaha, I seriously doubt that my friend.” He turned to England. “America needs a lesson, I think. He is a bad child, who is not showing respect to his superiors, and bad children...must be punished.” He smiled insanely.
America tugged violently against the chains once again, willing them to go away, tears coming to his eyes. There was no telling what Russia was up to now, but it wasn’t going to be good for England. “LET HIM GO!!!” he screamed desperately.
England weakly looked at America. “A-A-Alfred...don't give into him...no matter what!”
Russia brought the pipe down full force on England’s head, causing blood to go everywhere. America screamed, tears falling from his eyes. “Iggy!”
England replied his voice full of pain, but so quiet that America had to strain to hear it. “Don't worry about me...”
Laughing like a demon, Russia hit him again, harder this time. England completely collapsed, unable to take such abuse. Unable to take anymore, America cried out,. “STOP!”
Holding the pipe as if he was going to hit the defenseless England again, Russia cocked his head towards America, a childish smirk on his face. “Why should I?”=D
America started to let his cries out. “Just....please.”
Russia lowered the pipe and asked solemnly, “So you will listen?” America brokenly nodded, only thinking of England and the blood and how couldn’t stop it.
“And do whatever I ask?” Russia continued, his eyes still solemn, but America could see a glimmer of psychotic laughter behind them. He nodded again, feeling a wave of helplessness wash over him.
Russia giggled like a small child and clapped his hands. “Good, good!” he sang, pleased with the way things were going.
America shook with soft sobs. England had told him to hold out against Russia, but he just couldn’t, not with England’s life on the line. “I'm sorry Arthur,” he whispered, hoping his words would reach his beaten lover. “I-I just can't see you hurt or even bear the thought of it.”
Russia smiled gleefully when he saw that his enemy had given in. “I think I will keep our precious England here. It will serve as a reminder to you, da?” Russia clamped a metal collar around England's neck and attached a chain.
America couldn’t bear it. England wasn’t some servant or bargaining chip! He deserved to be treated with respect and dignity… he needed to be loved! “LET HIM GO!!!” he yelled, completely and utterly put up with the chains that bound him
“I can't do that, comrade,” Russia said, shaking his head. He started to pet England. “Poor thing, so hurt...I didn't want to do it, but I had no choice.”
America barely heard the words. He was focused solely on the fingers, the awful dirty fingers of a monster running through the silky blond hair of his lover. That was going much too far. America should have been comforting England like that. Russia’s actions, beating England and then petting him like a dog. England was just a toy to him, perhaps even less. America couldn’t and wouldn’t take that. “DON'T TOUCH HIM!!!”
“ARE YOU TELLING ME WHAT TO DO SCUM?” Russia snapped. He stood angrily and carelessly dropped England to the floor, who in turn moaned in pain. Russia’s face was nothing but pure insanity. America instinctively balled his hands into fists, knowing that he'd lose this fight, but he also like knew that he had to try for England’s sake.
Russia continued to scream at America, getting up in up his face so that America could feel his breath. “I ASKED YOU A QUESTION! ANSWER ME!” America just glared, and Russia leered back. “You obviously do not care for this filth very much.” He snapped as he bent down and grabbed the chain lying by his feet. It was the chain connected to England’s collar and Russia yanked England to the feet by the chain around his neck.
“LEAVE HIM ALONE!!!” America screamed, watching helplessly as England stumbled to his feet, eyes clouding over with pain.
“OBEY ME!” came the harsh reply, drowning out the American’s words.
Tears were pouring down America’s face. He was getting even more desperate, so much so that he could safely say he would have done anything to ensure England’s safety. “LET HIM GO FIRST!!!”
The little self control that Russia had managed to contain completely snapped, and his eyes widening in pure rage. “NEVER!” He threw England across the room, so he hit the wall America is chained to with a surprising amount of force. England ended up just out of America’s reach.
Sobbing, he reached for England, his fingers barely touching his dirty and bloody blonde hair. “....please,” he cried as England didn’t move.
Russia gently walked over to America and cupped his face in his hand, like they were intimate. America winced at the touch, disgusted. “You see comrade, this is your doing. He suffers because of your pride, your ego, your refusal to do what is demanded of you! You will give me my world war, or your lover will die the most horrible, painful death I can give him! And do you know what the best part is?”
“What!?” America stared up into Russia’s cruel violet eyes, feeling fear wrappings its arms tighter and tighter around his heart, squeezing it to death.
“It will take England much, much longer, much, much more pain to die than a normal human because he is nation, and we are special. We will not die until our bodies are completely destroyed,” Russia leered, eyes wide and hostile.
“What do you want out of this war anyway?” spat America.
“It is simple,” Russia said as he stepped back to bask in the glory of his twisted dreams. “A war will start between you and Japan and escalate to the point where the whole world is involved. The whole world...except for Russia. Right now, as we speak, documents are being made that will give Russia a legitimate excuse from not participating in the war, so Russia will not fight. We will just give aid to both sides and slowly accumulate a great wealth. Then, when the time is right, Russia will swoop in and save the day! I will be a world power! I will have money and be everyone's ‘hero’.”
“And all will become one with Russia.....” America muttered, finally seeing the point of Russia’s sick plan.
Laughing, the Russian continued on. ”Yes. All except for you of course. You will be offered as a scapegoat, to atone for your wrongdoing in starting this war. If you are left alive, you will have nothing.”
It was all too much. The drama, the insanity… it was all too much. America started laughing dryly. “I'll tell them. I'll tell them all the truth,” he said, unable to hold back his empty laughter. There was nothing even remotely funny about the situation, yet he just couldn’t stop.
Russia looked at him in mock innocence and shock. “And why would they believe you? Mother Russia has saved them, is helping them. Plus, you forget, I hold the trump card.” He sneered as he kicked England. The small nation only moaned in pain, pulling America out of his fit of laughter.
“NO!” cried America, wanting the violence to just stop. It was useless, he couldn’t stop Russia from hurting England, it wasn’t fair. Just think of England, he told himself. Think of how hurt he is and how you will be a hero to him, as long as you don’t give up. Just stand up and think of England.
“Do you see now comrade?” Russia continued softly, his voice like the hiss of a snake. “If you tell the truth... England will die.”
That was something America could simply not hear. He pulled against the chains again, as if they would let up this. “Y-You wouldn’t,” he snapped, voice shaking with anger and despair.
Ad insane grin flitted across the Russian’s features. “I have already told you, I would.” He took out a gun from inside his coat pockets. The grin widened. “Would you like to watch?”
America froze and fell limp, completely broken. He had a gun. He was going to do it. England… England! “Don't.....please,” he managed as his brain threatened to freeze and shut down. It couldn’t happen, England couldn’t leave him, he couldn’t let him go, no no no no!
“Always so sweet when you beg for things, yet when I ask nicely, you spit in my face...” Russia shook his head in mock sadness as he carefully aimed the gun at England.
America’s eyes widened. It was going to happen, he couldn’t stop it, it was useless, he had to try, oh please god no, he would do anything, just not this oh god, England, Arthur “No! Don't!!” Tears started to pool in his eyes.
“Too late~!” This couldn’t happen, he couldn’t watch, yet he had no choice, there had to be something… oh, Arthur… I love you… I’ll save you…
“STOP!! “I'LL DO WHATEVER YOU SAY!!!” It was a last ditch attempt and he knew it. His tears fell freely, while his eyes implored some miracle, something, anything to save his love...
Russia pulled the trigger, heedless of his words and his silent plea for a miracle.
“NO!!!”
A gunshot rang through the air, mingling with the desperate cries of a helpless lover. The room had no time to fall silent. It seemed as if time stood still, absolutely still for a length of time that was both an eternity, America’s voice ringing through the air. Then England’s voice drowned it out, screaming an awful, terrible blood curdling scream that made America’s blood run cold, the worst thing he had ever heard. He felt as if part of him was dying.
ARTHUR!! ARTHUR, NO, I LOVE YOU!!!” he screamed with all his heart, so hard his throat felt as if it was ripping. He wanted nothing more than for his words to reach England, but England fell limp, and America sobbed, crying for the sweet voice, beautiful eyes adorable smile, and all the things that made England and England, all the things he would never see again. The strongest nation in the world collapsed as much as his chains would let him.
Stepping around the pool of blood that was starting to form, Russia kneeled next to England, running his fingers through his hair. “He is not dead, of course.”
That sick, evil, communist bastard stroking England’s hair made America lash out in pure anger. “DONT TOUCH HIM!!!” The Russian was mocking England, mock the special relationship between the two Anglo-Saxon countries. It was worse than when that bastard had done it before, because
Russia was silent for a moment. The look on his face reminded America of the scene that had taken place just a few minutes earlier, when Russia had lost it and beat England. “What did I just say...” he started, his voice as cold as the winter snows that covered his land.
America froze, holding his tongue. “ABOUT REFUSING TO DO WHAT YOU ARE TOLD!?! I AM IN CHARGE HERE! I WILL MAKE DEMANDS! I WILL DO WHATEVER I PLEASE! YOU WILL DO AS TOU ARE TOLD AND HOLD YOUR TOUNGE! UNLESS YOU NO LONGER CARE FOR HIM AND WOULD HAVE ME SHOOT HIM AGAIN?”
“DON’T!!!” That was unthinkable. England would die, and America would die with him. “I-I'll do whatever you say…” Russia glared at him. “....sir.”
And just like that, Russia regained his normal cheerful demeanor. “Good, comrade. I would like to see those bombs dropped on Japan by next week. Otherwise, we will find more fun ways to hurt dear Arthur, da?”
America, yet again overcome by the whole situation, just sobbed as Russia grinned. “J-Just don't hurt him,” he pleaded. After all, that was all that really mattered now. Nothing else. He’d bomb Japan. He’d give Russia his fucked up war. Just don’t hurt England.
“That depends on your conduct. Take the prisoner back to his cell!”
America called for his lover, hoping for a response, but there was none. Two guards came in, dragged England out leaving a ghastly red streak behind. A streak that was America’s fault… The air smelt of blood... Oh, god what had he done…
“He will receive treatment,” Russia commented, seeing how America stared in horror at the bloody streak, as if hypnotized. “After all, he must stay healthy so that I can remind you of your place,” he continued nonchalantly.
Seeing his lover treat like that re-kindered the fighting spirit in America. “He'd better,” he almost snarled, his tone on the very outer limits of what one could call civil.
Russia glared at America, and America shrunk back, trying not to anger him anymore. “Excellent. Now, here are the rules: I will have people watching you at all times; you will make excuses for them, and they will be allowed to accompany you everywhere; you attempt to tell anyone the truth, and next time, you will watch as I take a hammer and drive nails through each of his fingers.” America winced. “Perhaps his screams then will remind you of your circumstances. You will go to work and then come home every day. There will be as little outside contact as possible, and I will be monitoring every second of it.” America muttered something under his breath.
“If you do something I am not pleased with...” Russia continued, “Do you have something you wish to say?” America shook his head. “Nyet, nyet, go on! I want to hear it.” He gave America a dangerous glare.
Knowing that what he said would just cause England more pain, America couldn’t tell Russia the truth. “I said nothing.”
Russia pinned him against the wall, his face a mask of fury “WHAT DID YOU SAY!?! ANSWER ME, YOU FUCKER!!” America stayed quiet. Without warning, Russia kneed him in the kidney, causing the young man to double over in pain. “If you have nothing to say, then keep silent.”
America winced as he righted himself and nodded. “Yes, sir....”
“I see you are beginning to understand.” Russia looked exceptionally pleased with this fact. Everything was probably going according to his psycho plan. “Then understand this. These people with you will dictate your life. They are an extension of me. I would advise listening to them, if you really care about him.” America nodded weakly, trying to think of a way to save England. “Do what they say, have as little outside contact as you can, do NOT talk to other countries, do not upset me, and speak of this to anyone…and of course, start a world war for me.” Russia smiled. “Can you handle that comrade?”
America nodded. He knew how to deal with hostage situations. However, there was something that had been bugging him since almost the beginning. Something he needed to ask now. He looked up and met those horrible violet eyes. “But...why me?”
Russia seemed taken aback at the direct query. “Simple,” He answered, his voice conveying surprise that America hadn’t already guessed it. “It is your fault I fell from power. You destroyed the USSR, not directly no, but you played a large hand. If not for you, Russia would not be alone. More people would be one with Russia. You destroyed my dream.” Russia’s voice was filled with malice. America would have felt sorry for him, except the stupid commie had deserved it, trying to take over the world like that
America smirked. “So this is all revenge?”
“Yes, mostly. You set yourself up, really. You destroyed my dream and became the most powerful country in the world. Only the most powerful country could start this war for me. I will destroy your dreams and climb to the top. And you will fall. Doesn't that sound wonderful? Ahahahahahahahaha!” Russia laughed a complete maniacal laugh.
America pulled weakly against the chains. “You're psychotic.”
“Yes~. And I fully accept it. And so now I can do anything, because I have accepted my insanity.” America was breathing heavily, being reverted to barely even a shell of the man he was. “I can make my fleeting whims into reality and do inhumanly cruel things because I have removed the barriers of what is socially acceptable because they do not apply to me. But this is enough about me. We will see each other soon.”
America had to try one last time to stop him. He meant it when he said he would do anything for England, but that didn’t mean he wanted aid the Russia. There was only one other option, offering himself as a sacrifice. “If you have to take out your anger, just hurt me....leave the rest of the world out of this!!!” He could take the pain, just so long as England would be there in the end to patch him up and kiss him better.
But it seemed that Russia had other plans. “ Nyet... nyet, I cannot do that...” There was a flash of metal and a sharp pain in his head before America was knocked into the black abyss of unconsciousness.
Author/Artist: starfoxx322 and pixystixys
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England, (UsUk) and Russia
Rating: PG-13 (Probably M overall for mentions of sex and mentions of rape)
Warnings: Language, violence, MAJOR angst,
Summary: Russia wants a world war and only America can give it to him. How far will they both go to get what they want?
The year was 2010, a peaceful time, or so everyone thought. Yes, there had been many natural disasters, and America was fighting in far too many wars for England’s taste. World meetings still got countries nowhere, besides the janitors’ closet three doors down and on the left side of the hall, if they were lucky. Celebrities caused scandals, the general population lived out their daily lives, people tried to help each other while other tried to hurt. In short, life was as it always was until one day when America received a completely unexpected invitation.
Seemingly out of the blue, Russia had called America to his house to discuss something, a matter he refused to go into further detail over. America, therefore, expected a sort of new trade agreement or some other diplomatic measure of the like. It was definitely odd, seeing as the two of them hadn’t got along very well since the end of the Cold War. They were civil, oh yes, but it was a type of civility that hid a deep resentment. The only reason it hadn’t broken out into an all out fight was because England was good at holding America back, and Russia wouldn’t go farther than taunting unless America made the first move. The only reason that America had even bothered to go to Russia today was that his boss had leapt at a chance for at friendly foreign policy with the larger nation.
The winter air was cold enough to cut straight through one’s clothes when America arrived at Russia’s house, but then again, this was to be expected. Wanting to appear confident in front of his onetime enemy, America strode through the door of the big house with his characteristic grin on his face. He had been told to meet Russia in his office, but when America knocked on the door that he thought led to Russia’s study, there was no answer.
“Um, Russia? You in there? Commie~?” he asked in a tone that some could consider nervous. Of course, he wasn’t nervous, because he was a hero and heroes were never afraid. No, America was simply being cautious around a very old and slightly insane enemy.
“Oh, hello there, comrade!” Russia came up behind him with silent footsteps, causing America to jump at the sound of the faux cheerful voice behind him.
“You told me to meet you in your office…?” He said, quickly regaining his composure. It wouldn’t do to appear afraid when he very obviously was not.
Russia smiled in a way America did not entirely feel comfortable with and opened the door and gestured for America to enter. “Oh yes, come in.”
America eyed him strangely. The cheerful disposition was usual, but there was something different about it. When he entered the office he saw what it was immediately. Half the room had no furniture in order to accommodate the chains on the wall.
America did not like this situation at all and decided it was time to get out before something seriously freaky happened. “Um, maybe I should go…” He didn’t give Russia a chance to answer and turned to make a dash for the door, but since Russia was standing behind him, the larger country beat him there and locked it.
Undeterred from him plan of escape America ran to the window and kicked it out, trying desperately to get away, but Russia snuck up behind him and hit him on the back of his head with the metal pipe he carried everywhere. America’s vision went blurry and he stumbled a bit, managing to stay on the verge of consciousness. Russia had only hit America hard enough that he would lose his bearings, not pass out, it seemed.
“I don't think so comrade!” the tall blonde man practically sang. Who the hell talks like that when they just brained someone with a pipe? America wondered. “We have much more to do here!” the Russian continued, missing America’s internal insults.
Even though he was still extremely dizzy, America attempted to scamper out the window. “LIKE WHAT?! YOU GONNA RAPE ME?!” he yelled back at Russia, then paused. “Actually, don't answer that.” He had one hand on the window frame and was beginning to pull himself up when he was grabbed by the legs and dragged back into the room.
In the fashion of a true megalomaniacal evil villain Russia proceeded to chain America to the wall. “No, not you~!” he responded cheerily to America’s previous question
Although he normally would have been worried about the poor soul that Russia planned to “visit” in the near future, the self proclaimed hero had other things to worry about at the moment. He futilely struggled against the chains. “LET ME GO!!!” he snapped, glaring at his captor.
A terrifying smirk appeared on Russia’s face and there was a brief flash of insanity in his eyes. “Nyet comrade, we have hardly started yet.” He crossed to the other side of the room and reclined in his office chair, as if they were simply having a business meeting instead of America being treated as a prisoner.
America continued to try and escape the chains. “I DON'T WANNA EVEN START!!!”
Russia ignored the outburst, as if America was only a little child and Russia was the unconcerned parent. His gaze traveled off to the side for a short moment. “He should be here any moment...”
Upon hearing those words and the odd tone in which they were said, a sudden tinge of fear struck America. It was perhaps completely irrational, because of course Russia couldn’t have…
The sound of Russia’s voice, a mix of something sweet and something sinister, cut into America’s thoughts. “Our guest of honor, that is,” Russia answered the questioning look America had given. Russia smiled a creepy smile, one that America had seen far more than he cared to.
Still smiling that awful smile, the Russian propped his elbow on one of his chair’s arms, resting his chin in his palm. He continued on. “Then we can begin, da?”
America’s hero senses were tingling all over, screaming that Russia had taken someone special to the American prisoner, but America wasn’t going to let himself believe it. There was no way anyone but himself was in danger. This was just another one of Russia’s mind games.
“W-Who?” he stuttered, trying and failing not let his growing sense of panic show in his voice.
Russia’s grin just broadened. In a way, America’s fears became reality at that second. Perhaps it was a sixth sense or a bond between lovers but America knew. He had England. No, maybe he didn’t! Part of America hoped, still not wanting to acknowledge it. “Y-You didn't...” he trailed, not wanting to finish that sentence. As long as neither of them said it, England was still safe.
The grin simply widened and Russia sat back in his chair, satisfied. That was answer enough. “I very well may have~” he replied in a sing song voice, almost like a child trying to make his parents guess what he found in the sandbox.
All sense of everything except England’s well being immediately shut off and America thrashed against the chains, putting all his considerable strength into it, needing to get free. “YOU BASTARD!!!”
The cheery grin turned into an evil smirk. “Hehehe, so you have figured out?”
He pulled against the chains with more force, determined to snap them with his will power and the strength of his love if nothing else. “LET HIM GO!!!”
“Nyet, I cannot,” Russia replied calmly, the sweet yet sinister smile returning to his face. He stood and crossed the room to stand in front of America. The young man wanted nothing more than to punch the smile off and grind it into the ground as Russia screamed in pain. That… that son of a bitch took England! Oh, if only his chains would free, he would show that commie bastard why you did not mess with America’s loved ones. But the rational part of him said (in a delightful British accent that sounded almost exactly like England’s) that he was trapped for the moment and his anger wasn’t going to get him anywhere or help the situation. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, for England’s sake. He felt his rage boil down and the true emotion his fury had masked rose to the surface.
There was no other way to describe it, except the feeling one gets when they are walking up the stairs and he thinks there is another step, when in reality there is not. For a second, one’s foot plummets through empty space and a mixture of fear, shock, and dread pierce one’s heart and sink straight through his stomach. The only difference was while the feeling at the top of the steps was momentary, this one would not go away. America didn’t want to seem weak in the eyes of his enemy, but he felt he had to do something, even if it hurt his pride. He had to…for England’s sake.
“Why...? I-I'll do anything,” he asked, afraid of what Russia might ask for in compensation, but more than willing to give it up so that he could hold England safe in his arms again.
There was a definite smirk upon Russia’s face, and America felt as if he was being laughed at as Russia replied. “Because, our little friend is very useful. And you will do anything, I can guarantee that, comrade.”
America could feel his heart slowly tearing in two as each of Russia’s denials put England farther and farther away from him. He decided to try pleading, even using his pet name for England. “Let Iggy go....” It was horribly demeaning begging an enemy like this, but America did not care. He would do anything to save England.
“I will not. He is useful to me,” came the completely unconcerned reply.
This confused America. This constant fight between himself and his old opponent had nothing to do with England, and England would never betray America. “How?” he asked weakly.
“He gives me complete control over you. It is very simple comrade. If you do not do what I ask, I will kill him.” The way in which Russia proclaimed this, as if he were simply announcing the time of day was completely disconcerting. It was a life he was talking about! A living breathing human being. The way he could completely disregarded that completely disgusted America. He was scared for England’s sake, frustrated at his own inability to do anything. If Russia had England, America knew he would do anything the other man asked if it meant keeping England safe.
It was all too much. Tears started to find their way down America’s face. “You bastard,” he murmured, not caring that he was showing weakness.
Russia, obviously delighted that America was crying before him continued, “And this is not your silly little movies. When I say I will kill him, I am serious, unlike those so-called villains in your movies. Do you understand?”
America nodded pitifully, feeling so idiotic for going along with this. But what else could he do? The two of them had spent almost half a century holding guns to each other’s head, waiting for the enemy to pull the trigger so that they both could go down in flames. It was nearly the same now, except America was unarmed and Russia was just waiting to be provoked so that he could pull the trigger.
“Ahahaha, this will be so much fun comrade! I will enjoy tearing you apart, very much. So where to begin~?” America tugged at the chains again, all to no avail. Russia laughed at his pitiful attempts at freeing himself and waved his pipe.
America glared at him, yelling, “You bastard!”
Russia merely smiled as he picked up a file folder from his desk. “Do not resist.” He flipped through the file. “ To begin, I would like you to send your good friend Kiku a couple presents.”
America wasn’t going to let his fighting spirit be broken. He gave his signature smirk, saying, “What would those be, asshole?”
“One goes to Hiroshima. The other to Nagasaki,” Russia listed off pleasantly, like he was listing off groceries, or what movies he’d like to see, not the destruction of one of America’s best friends. America didn’t say anything. Russia wanted him…to repeat history? “Do you understand it yet? What I am asking you to do comrade?”
America scoffed. “Those bombs.” He remembered the first time. It was horrible. Japan hadn’t been able look at him for weeks. There were still scars on Japan’s body and it pained him to talk about it, even though he had completely forgiven America long ago. Of course Russia would want to recreate that. The bastard would enjoy it too, watching as they suffered and laughing at their misery.
“Yes. I wonder how the world will react...” Russia smiled, looking off into the mid-distance, as if he could imagine it now. “The hero has just bombed his best friend for no reason.” He continued idly. “That should be enough to start a world war, don't you think?” His smile became almost peaceful at the thought of his sick dream becoming reality.
America snarled at the Russian, bringing the larger man back to reality. “Another world war....you make me sick.” America proceeded to spit on Russia’s face.
Russia completely froze. America couldn’t see his eyes, but he could tell that there was a drastic change in mood sweeping over the Russian. “That was insulting, comrade.” He spat as he smacked America across the face. “I think you need a lesson in manners...” He continued, his tone completely cold and void of all emotion. “Kolkolkolkolkol....Bring in the prisoner!”
America’s eyes widened in fear as he pulled against the chains. “NO!”
“Oh, yes,” said Russia in a voice that chilled the American to the bone.
America watched in horror as England was dragged into the room. He was badly bruised, his hair was mussed, his clothes were torn, and not in his orderly gentleman fashion at all. Blood smeared his cheek, both dried and blood freshly spilt. Almost unable to stand the sight, America cried out in terror, “Iggy!”
England pitifully looked up at the sound of America’s pet name for him. His normally stunning emerald eyes were dull, almost lifeless. “A-Alfred? Did he get you too?” He whispered, his voice sounding as broken as his body. America was no longer worried for himself, not even in the slightest. Right now, England needed care much more that he did needed England. America responded in a gentle tone. “I'm fine....you look horrible.” He wanted to run over to England, hold him in his arms, tell him everything was alright, stroke his hair, kiss him, and do whatever it took to make him better.
He raised his voice and turned his attention back towards Russia. “You'll pay for this!!!” he snapped, trying once again to break free from the chains so that he could kick Russia’s ass.
Russia laughed as he walked towards America, standing just out of his reach, infuriating his captive even more. “Ahhaha, I seriously doubt that my friend.” He turned to England. “America needs a lesson, I think. He is a bad child, who is not showing respect to his superiors, and bad children...must be punished.” He smiled insanely.
America tugged violently against the chains once again, willing them to go away, tears coming to his eyes. There was no telling what Russia was up to now, but it wasn’t going to be good for England. “LET HIM GO!!!” he screamed desperately.
England weakly looked at America. “A-A-Alfred...don't give into him...no matter what!”
Russia brought the pipe down full force on England’s head, causing blood to go everywhere. America screamed, tears falling from his eyes. “Iggy!”
England replied his voice full of pain, but so quiet that America had to strain to hear it. “Don't worry about me...”
Laughing like a demon, Russia hit him again, harder this time. England completely collapsed, unable to take such abuse. Unable to take anymore, America cried out,. “STOP!”
Holding the pipe as if he was going to hit the defenseless England again, Russia cocked his head towards America, a childish smirk on his face. “Why should I?”=D
America started to let his cries out. “Just....please.”
Russia lowered the pipe and asked solemnly, “So you will listen?” America brokenly nodded, only thinking of England and the blood and how couldn’t stop it.
“And do whatever I ask?” Russia continued, his eyes still solemn, but America could see a glimmer of psychotic laughter behind them. He nodded again, feeling a wave of helplessness wash over him.
Russia giggled like a small child and clapped his hands. “Good, good!” he sang, pleased with the way things were going.
America shook with soft sobs. England had told him to hold out against Russia, but he just couldn’t, not with England’s life on the line. “I'm sorry Arthur,” he whispered, hoping his words would reach his beaten lover. “I-I just can't see you hurt or even bear the thought of it.”
Russia smiled gleefully when he saw that his enemy had given in. “I think I will keep our precious England here. It will serve as a reminder to you, da?” Russia clamped a metal collar around England's neck and attached a chain.
America couldn’t bear it. England wasn’t some servant or bargaining chip! He deserved to be treated with respect and dignity… he needed to be loved! “LET HIM GO!!!” he yelled, completely and utterly put up with the chains that bound him
“I can't do that, comrade,” Russia said, shaking his head. He started to pet England. “Poor thing, so hurt...I didn't want to do it, but I had no choice.”
America barely heard the words. He was focused solely on the fingers, the awful dirty fingers of a monster running through the silky blond hair of his lover. That was going much too far. America should have been comforting England like that. Russia’s actions, beating England and then petting him like a dog. England was just a toy to him, perhaps even less. America couldn’t and wouldn’t take that. “DON'T TOUCH HIM!!!”
“ARE YOU TELLING ME WHAT TO DO SCUM?” Russia snapped. He stood angrily and carelessly dropped England to the floor, who in turn moaned in pain. Russia’s face was nothing but pure insanity. America instinctively balled his hands into fists, knowing that he'd lose this fight, but he also like knew that he had to try for England’s sake.
Russia continued to scream at America, getting up in up his face so that America could feel his breath. “I ASKED YOU A QUESTION! ANSWER ME!” America just glared, and Russia leered back. “You obviously do not care for this filth very much.” He snapped as he bent down and grabbed the chain lying by his feet. It was the chain connected to England’s collar and Russia yanked England to the feet by the chain around his neck.
“LEAVE HIM ALONE!!!” America screamed, watching helplessly as England stumbled to his feet, eyes clouding over with pain.
“OBEY ME!” came the harsh reply, drowning out the American’s words.
Tears were pouring down America’s face. He was getting even more desperate, so much so that he could safely say he would have done anything to ensure England’s safety. “LET HIM GO FIRST!!!”
The little self control that Russia had managed to contain completely snapped, and his eyes widening in pure rage. “NEVER!” He threw England across the room, so he hit the wall America is chained to with a surprising amount of force. England ended up just out of America’s reach.
Sobbing, he reached for England, his fingers barely touching his dirty and bloody blonde hair. “....please,” he cried as England didn’t move.
Russia gently walked over to America and cupped his face in his hand, like they were intimate. America winced at the touch, disgusted. “You see comrade, this is your doing. He suffers because of your pride, your ego, your refusal to do what is demanded of you! You will give me my world war, or your lover will die the most horrible, painful death I can give him! And do you know what the best part is?”
“What!?” America stared up into Russia’s cruel violet eyes, feeling fear wrappings its arms tighter and tighter around his heart, squeezing it to death.
“It will take England much, much longer, much, much more pain to die than a normal human because he is nation, and we are special. We will not die until our bodies are completely destroyed,” Russia leered, eyes wide and hostile.
“What do you want out of this war anyway?” spat America.
“It is simple,” Russia said as he stepped back to bask in the glory of his twisted dreams. “A war will start between you and Japan and escalate to the point where the whole world is involved. The whole world...except for Russia. Right now, as we speak, documents are being made that will give Russia a legitimate excuse from not participating in the war, so Russia will not fight. We will just give aid to both sides and slowly accumulate a great wealth. Then, when the time is right, Russia will swoop in and save the day! I will be a world power! I will have money and be everyone's ‘hero’.”
“And all will become one with Russia.....” America muttered, finally seeing the point of Russia’s sick plan.
Laughing, the Russian continued on. ”Yes. All except for you of course. You will be offered as a scapegoat, to atone for your wrongdoing in starting this war. If you are left alive, you will have nothing.”
It was all too much. The drama, the insanity… it was all too much. America started laughing dryly. “I'll tell them. I'll tell them all the truth,” he said, unable to hold back his empty laughter. There was nothing even remotely funny about the situation, yet he just couldn’t stop.
Russia looked at him in mock innocence and shock. “And why would they believe you? Mother Russia has saved them, is helping them. Plus, you forget, I hold the trump card.” He sneered as he kicked England. The small nation only moaned in pain, pulling America out of his fit of laughter.
“NO!” cried America, wanting the violence to just stop. It was useless, he couldn’t stop Russia from hurting England, it wasn’t fair. Just think of England, he told himself. Think of how hurt he is and how you will be a hero to him, as long as you don’t give up. Just stand up and think of England.
“Do you see now comrade?” Russia continued softly, his voice like the hiss of a snake. “If you tell the truth... England will die.”
That was something America could simply not hear. He pulled against the chains again, as if they would let up this. “Y-You wouldn’t,” he snapped, voice shaking with anger and despair.
Ad insane grin flitted across the Russian’s features. “I have already told you, I would.” He took out a gun from inside his coat pockets. The grin widened. “Would you like to watch?”
America froze and fell limp, completely broken. He had a gun. He was going to do it. England… England! “Don't.....please,” he managed as his brain threatened to freeze and shut down. It couldn’t happen, England couldn’t leave him, he couldn’t let him go, no no no no!
“Always so sweet when you beg for things, yet when I ask nicely, you spit in my face...” Russia shook his head in mock sadness as he carefully aimed the gun at England.
America’s eyes widened. It was going to happen, he couldn’t stop it, it was useless, he had to try, oh please god no, he would do anything, just not this oh god, England, Arthur “No! Don't!!” Tears started to pool in his eyes.
“Too late~!” This couldn’t happen, he couldn’t watch, yet he had no choice, there had to be something… oh, Arthur… I love you… I’ll save you…
“STOP!! “I'LL DO WHATEVER YOU SAY!!!” It was a last ditch attempt and he knew it. His tears fell freely, while his eyes implored some miracle, something, anything to save his love...
Russia pulled the trigger, heedless of his words and his silent plea for a miracle.
“NO!!!”
A gunshot rang through the air, mingling with the desperate cries of a helpless lover. The room had no time to fall silent. It seemed as if time stood still, absolutely still for a length of time that was both an eternity, America’s voice ringing through the air. Then England’s voice drowned it out, screaming an awful, terrible blood curdling scream that made America’s blood run cold, the worst thing he had ever heard. He felt as if part of him was dying.
ARTHUR!! ARTHUR, NO, I LOVE YOU!!!” he screamed with all his heart, so hard his throat felt as if it was ripping. He wanted nothing more than for his words to reach England, but England fell limp, and America sobbed, crying for the sweet voice, beautiful eyes adorable smile, and all the things that made England and England, all the things he would never see again. The strongest nation in the world collapsed as much as his chains would let him.
Stepping around the pool of blood that was starting to form, Russia kneeled next to England, running his fingers through his hair. “He is not dead, of course.”
That sick, evil, communist bastard stroking England’s hair made America lash out in pure anger. “DONT TOUCH HIM!!!” The Russian was mocking England, mock the special relationship between the two Anglo-Saxon countries. It was worse than when that bastard had done it before, because
Russia was silent for a moment. The look on his face reminded America of the scene that had taken place just a few minutes earlier, when Russia had lost it and beat England. “What did I just say...” he started, his voice as cold as the winter snows that covered his land.
America froze, holding his tongue. “ABOUT REFUSING TO DO WHAT YOU ARE TOLD!?! I AM IN CHARGE HERE! I WILL MAKE DEMANDS! I WILL DO WHATEVER I PLEASE! YOU WILL DO AS TOU ARE TOLD AND HOLD YOUR TOUNGE! UNLESS YOU NO LONGER CARE FOR HIM AND WOULD HAVE ME SHOOT HIM AGAIN?”
“DON’T!!!” That was unthinkable. England would die, and America would die with him. “I-I'll do whatever you say…” Russia glared at him. “....sir.”
And just like that, Russia regained his normal cheerful demeanor. “Good, comrade. I would like to see those bombs dropped on Japan by next week. Otherwise, we will find more fun ways to hurt dear Arthur, da?”
America, yet again overcome by the whole situation, just sobbed as Russia grinned. “J-Just don't hurt him,” he pleaded. After all, that was all that really mattered now. Nothing else. He’d bomb Japan. He’d give Russia his fucked up war. Just don’t hurt England.
“That depends on your conduct. Take the prisoner back to his cell!”
America called for his lover, hoping for a response, but there was none. Two guards came in, dragged England out leaving a ghastly red streak behind. A streak that was America’s fault… The air smelt of blood... Oh, god what had he done…
“He will receive treatment,” Russia commented, seeing how America stared in horror at the bloody streak, as if hypnotized. “After all, he must stay healthy so that I can remind you of your place,” he continued nonchalantly.
Seeing his lover treat like that re-kindered the fighting spirit in America. “He'd better,” he almost snarled, his tone on the very outer limits of what one could call civil.
Russia glared at America, and America shrunk back, trying not to anger him anymore. “Excellent. Now, here are the rules: I will have people watching you at all times; you will make excuses for them, and they will be allowed to accompany you everywhere; you attempt to tell anyone the truth, and next time, you will watch as I take a hammer and drive nails through each of his fingers.” America winced. “Perhaps his screams then will remind you of your circumstances. You will go to work and then come home every day. There will be as little outside contact as possible, and I will be monitoring every second of it.” America muttered something under his breath.
“If you do something I am not pleased with...” Russia continued, “Do you have something you wish to say?” America shook his head. “Nyet, nyet, go on! I want to hear it.” He gave America a dangerous glare.
Knowing that what he said would just cause England more pain, America couldn’t tell Russia the truth. “I said nothing.”
Russia pinned him against the wall, his face a mask of fury “WHAT DID YOU SAY!?! ANSWER ME, YOU FUCKER!!” America stayed quiet. Without warning, Russia kneed him in the kidney, causing the young man to double over in pain. “If you have nothing to say, then keep silent.”
America winced as he righted himself and nodded. “Yes, sir....”
“I see you are beginning to understand.” Russia looked exceptionally pleased with this fact. Everything was probably going according to his psycho plan. “Then understand this. These people with you will dictate your life. They are an extension of me. I would advise listening to them, if you really care about him.” America nodded weakly, trying to think of a way to save England. “Do what they say, have as little outside contact as you can, do NOT talk to other countries, do not upset me, and speak of this to anyone…and of course, start a world war for me.” Russia smiled. “Can you handle that comrade?”
America nodded. He knew how to deal with hostage situations. However, there was something that had been bugging him since almost the beginning. Something he needed to ask now. He looked up and met those horrible violet eyes. “But...why me?”
Russia seemed taken aback at the direct query. “Simple,” He answered, his voice conveying surprise that America hadn’t already guessed it. “It is your fault I fell from power. You destroyed the USSR, not directly no, but you played a large hand. If not for you, Russia would not be alone. More people would be one with Russia. You destroyed my dream.” Russia’s voice was filled with malice. America would have felt sorry for him, except the stupid commie had deserved it, trying to take over the world like that
America smirked. “So this is all revenge?”
“Yes, mostly. You set yourself up, really. You destroyed my dream and became the most powerful country in the world. Only the most powerful country could start this war for me. I will destroy your dreams and climb to the top. And you will fall. Doesn't that sound wonderful? Ahahahahahahahaha!” Russia laughed a complete maniacal laugh.
America pulled weakly against the chains. “You're psychotic.”
“Yes~. And I fully accept it. And so now I can do anything, because I have accepted my insanity.” America was breathing heavily, being reverted to barely even a shell of the man he was. “I can make my fleeting whims into reality and do inhumanly cruel things because I have removed the barriers of what is socially acceptable because they do not apply to me. But this is enough about me. We will see each other soon.”
America had to try one last time to stop him. He meant it when he said he would do anything for England, but that didn’t mean he wanted aid the Russia. There was only one other option, offering himself as a sacrifice. “If you have to take out your anger, just hurt me....leave the rest of the world out of this!!!” He could take the pain, just so long as England would be there in the end to patch him up and kiss him better.
But it seemed that Russia had other plans. “ Nyet... nyet, I cannot do that...” There was a flash of metal and a sharp pain in his head before America was knocked into the black abyss of unconsciousness.