Here's a little something to get me back in the game. Lately I've grown a slight addiction to Hetalia so I decided what the hell and started writing a one-shot. So enjoy.
Alfred didn't know how it happened or how it all began. All he did know was that somehow he managed it. He never wanted to be so powerful, none of his people did. But in the end Alfred had rose to become the world's sole superpower. Superpower, the word alone sent chills down his spine. He didn't want to be a superpower, he wanted to be a hero sure but not this way. Hero's aren't mocked all the time by people who barely even know anything about him or his people. Hero's save lives and Alfred was pretty sure he and his people, while had helped humanity as much as possible, had not been able to save everybody. What with Native America and her people who were forced to move around before finally being assimilated as a part of him. Sure Native America is still around and so are her people, but he wasn't able to save her from himself. Then there were all those lives lost in the coming years.
He wasn't able to save Vietnam, instead he ended up hurting her, he was forced to watch in horror as he and his men were forced to sign a treaty and immediately back out of the hell hole, his last mistake in that war was the complete and almost immediate withdrawal of all his men from the battle space. Right after all his men left the North took advantage of the moment to seize Saigon and with that the poisoning of Vietnam was complete. He wasn't able to save her or any of the poor souls who lost their lives and even worse, sanity and dreams. All gone.
Today he looked at his new boss that was elected a mister Barack Obama. Maybe this new generation has a chance, Alfred thought watching the cheering crowed. Looking back on it all he remembered all the hardship both in the past, present and the future. He remembered Nine-eleven it was still fresh in his mind. He remembered taking out Saddam and helping Iraq back on his feet, Alfred remembered when the cheering of many now freed Iraqis filled the streets praising American troops were suddenly replaced by screams of terror as new attacks aroused from warring groups of terrorists who wanted control over the still weakened country. He remembers fighting off wave after wave of men hiding in civilian crowds before running off.
And to Alfred it all seemed to similar to Vietnam. Only this time his troops were more prepared for such hardships. And he remembers what it means to be a hero, and then remembers all the times he has fulfilled that meaning, even when all hope seems lost he always looks back on all of his old friends and the lessons that they bestowed upon him and his people. He remembers all of his old bosses, the ones who always put things into an easy to understand perspective for him, the ones who were always like fathers to him. His bosses were probably unlike any of the bosses that the European or Asian countries had ever seen. From witty gentlemen to clever crooks, his bosses always seemed to hold an air around them that brightened up his day.
Then there were those that he loved the most, his people. The ones who fight and work to protect and bring him into glory. He remembers all of the things that his people had done for him. They spoken for him when his voice was weak, they had fought for him when needed to heal his wounds, they work hard for him. They work as hard as they can to enjoy what they can bring to themselves. And it makes him happy and sad to see such people follow his suffering and woes, but even in the darkest of times they always seem to find a way. And because of those qualities they always brought joy into his life. The citizens of him, America, bring hope not only to him but the rest of the world that envies him. And with that hope he goes out to make new friends and forge new alliances.
Even his criminaly insane help him by bringing out his curiosity. Honestly how and why do they have those thoughts that they have. Thanks to this curiosity that he and his people had gained, they set to work and discovered all sorts of new psychological and physical treatment that they could give to those considered insane.
Alfred watches as his old bosses come down to greet him along with his new boss. He looks down at the little girl before him before he smiles and pats her. Glancing around him he can't help smile and laugh. After all perhaps all that hardship, all of that work, had truly brought him more happiness than Alfred could comprehend. Maybe being a superpower was worth it after all. Perhaps all of the whispers and violence that the world throws at him, he and his people will still protect and aid them in anyway they can whether those people hate them or not. After all the hero must keep going, especially if he's needed to save everyone from the villians.