"There's a big storm coming. I can feel it in the air."

"What? Don't be stupid, there isn't a cloud in the sky!"

~0~0~0~

"Sailing these waters is illegal for a pirate. So, as such, it's up to a hero like me to bring justice!"

"Oh, so you're a hero, are you? Tell me, mister hero, what exactly is it that I'm doing wrong?"

"I just told you, didn't I? Unless you can show me your ship registration papers, this is an unidentified ship, and therefore must be brought into custody," America said smugly to the pirate captain before him. The hero had stopped next to the ship and boarded it – officially, because making a mistake now would be bad – and been met by a shorter man with choppy, sandy blond hair and fiery green eyes. To be honest, the captain's hat was the only way that America could tell that he was the one in charge, although maybe it was his attitude, too.

The pirate was silent for a few seconds before he responded, eyes flashing. "And how to you plan to do that, precisely?"

A surge of anger welled up inside of America; this pirate was mocking him! Him – a hero! Heroes were supposed to be respected, not a laughing stock! Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax, and gave the man a level glare. "What's your name, pirate?"

The use of the word – or perhaps the tone of America's voice – caused indignation to flare up in the captain's expression. America felt a tinge of satisfaction. "England," the pirate said. "Captain England. And you – I couldn't care less who you are – can get off my ship before I throw you overboard."

America couldn't help but grin at the threat, barely suppressed laughter showing in his own blue eyes. Whoa, this guy totally has a sense of humor! he thought. There's no way a crummy pirate could take down a hero like me, even if he is the captain!

England, on the other hand, looked taken aback. "What is so funny, git?" he demanded.

By now, America was cracking up. "Dude," he choked out between chuckles, "it's just that you're," England contemplated simply murdering him right then, "you're a pirate, and you're threatening me. A hero! Ha!"

The pirate captain twitched, resisting the rather strong urge to slit the other man's throat. His crew should be ready and waiting for the signal to attack, and he could practically smell the storm getting closer. It was going to be a big one.

The only sounds on the near deserted deck were the waves and America's peeling laughter. Finally, by some miracle, he managed to regain control once again. "Well, if you're not going to cooperate…" he spoke to England before turning back to his own ship, calling out to Lithuania, his informant and first mate. "Ready!"

It was an obvious signal, and at it, half a dozen of America's men surged across the planks onto the pirate ship deck. Maybe half a dozen wasn't quite necessary to do this, considering the only threat they could see were England and one other man on the deck who America assumed to be the pirate's first mate – if they used that term, America wasn't quite an expert on pirate vocabulary.

My men, America thought proudly. All of the years of training had paid off: he had been made an Admiral and given his own ship. And now, this would be his first squirmish as an Admiral.

It surprised him when England drew his sword with confidence, as if to challenge all twelve – thirteen, America included – of the men at once. The right-hand man readied himself too, and within a second they were both surrounded. There were no moves to fight or resist, America mused, watching England. England, who just a second ago seemed so defiant.

Then he smirked.

"If you say so," England addressed America loudly, "Captain."

And all of Hell broke loose. Cannons fired, causing both ships to rock. Then America realized something; the cannons were fired at his ship! The word 'captain' was some kind of signal! He turned back to England, only to find that the pirate had disappeared.

Darn it. He looked around the deck, hoping to spot him, and saw that there was now an equal amount of his men and pirates – and it didn't look good. America's men were still shaken by the sudden attack. Darn it. Dodging around a few people, he made his way around the deck in an attempt to find the captain, but ended up coming face-to-face with the first mate, a man around his build with shaggy, short silver hair and red eyes. Darn it.

"In a hurry?" he asked before lunging at America, who hardly managed to draw his own sword to block in time.

"Not to see you, that's for sure." He needed to find the captain! Heroes couldn't just waste their time like this!

America had to admit that this man was better at wielding a sword than him, and he struggled just to keep up. "Oh, looking for England, then?" America blocked another blow. "Is the awesome Prussia not enough to satisfy you?"

No, this isn't happening! I can't be losing! America desperately tried to escape Prussia, but the other man was too fast for him. Heroes don't lose to pirates!

"America!"

He hardly heard Lithuania shouting his name; he was too distracted. The entire ship rocked violently, and he vaguely made out England bark out orders to his crew. Prussia relented his attack, and everyone else seemed to scramble.

"America, come on! We have to go!" Lithuania called again, louder and clearer this time.

Looking up, America realized why: a storm had hit. Not just an average storm, but a huge storm. Giant waves knocked the two boats around, and the planks between the two threatened to fall at any moment. Most of his men were back over on their own ship, waving at him frantically. They were waiting for him.

They were waiting for him! Without another glance at Prussia, America ran to the edge of the ship. Fortune was not on his side today, as the planks gave way right before he reached them. Luckily, everyone else had crossed.

I guess I have no choice then. America prepared to jumped the growing gap, but someone grabbed the collar of his coat, pulling him back onto the deck. "Going somewhere, Admiral?"