Hello! This is not my first fan fiction, I've created a new account, because I can't log back into my other one. I hope you enjoy the story I've brought, and will try to update as quickly as possible. I will also be re-posting fanfics from my old account.
The Great War
Prologue
A young girl sits in her school desk, reading from a text book. Her eyes scan the words that have become the most recent history. The book is only a year old. Nothing much has changed since it was printed. She turns the page, and continues reading.
The Great War was a massive conflict of the world. Greater than the first World Wars, and even the Cold War. It has, quite literally, ended war. America now has governments in ever occupied nation, controlling them so that nothing like The Great War can happen again. It was a war America was destined to win.
In another part of America, preferably, underground, a young looking man is reading the same book, with a sneer on his face. "Liars…" He muttered, as he flipped the page in disgust. But, he continued reading anyways, not because Arthur told him to, but because he was curious about what else had been fabricated.
Many has asked who was the original starter of The Great War. Some have said that America herself- "Himself…" -was the original starter of the war. This is not true. Russia was the instigator. Russian spies assassinated the President on November 9, 2018. They were captured, and interrogated. The information took from them told us of a war that Russia was planning. America decided not to stand for such an atrocity. Two days later, Russia declared war on the United States, and our response was to fight. However, Russia did have allies, but-
Alfred F. Jones closed the book and threw it down in disgust. He crossed his arms, leaning his head back. He was seated in an armchair in a small living room, there was a coffee table, stained, with the glass cracked sitting idly next to him. Across from him was a blank wall. Behind the chair and coffee table, there was a door from which light spilled from, and the smell of cooking food. Arthur Kirkland walked in, having heard the little book tossed carelessly. "Git, I told you to read that.""I'm not reading lies Art', so don't try and make me do it again. I'm getting sick from reading it…" Alfred snapped back, rocking forward, the American got up, and looked to him. Arthur still looked quite young, despite his age. His hair had grown out a bit, and was pulled back in a ponytail. Alfred thought it looked pretty nice, but he really didn't mind the short hair. The Englishman was wearing a simple white button shirt with black slacks, and no shoes. An apron was tied on around his waist. He sighed."Alright…I won't make you. I just thought it might do good, after all, you need to know your 'history'" He said with an unrefined snort. Alfred chuckled. "History, right. So, what exactly was your point? Please tell me it wasn't that 'those who don't know history are bound to repeat it crap'" Arthur turned, one foot raised to step into the kitchen. "Oh, no. I actually wanted you to read….but…" The darker blond rummaged in his pants pocket, and his hand emerged with an old envelope, sealed with wax. "An owl brought it this morning. Got no idea how that bugger knew to send it to me like that, he must have been more well read than I thought." Arthur said, tossing it to Alfred. Alfred himself still looked quite the same. His hair was still cut how it was nearly fifty years ago, just before the war started, his attire consisted of a red t-shirt, and faded jeans. He still had his glasses, which was a miracle, because they were really hard to get now a days. "Who…Who sent this, Arthur?" Alfred said. That was when he turned the letter over, to see a name in bold Cyrillic. Alfred recognized the handwriting immediately…how could he forget. "Oh my god…" Arthur smiled."Ivan."