ahhh hello there ; A ;)/ just wanna take this moment and say thank u for taking interest in this fic! ive been working on the first chapter for a while now and im so glad that i can finally publish it! i wanna dedicate this fic to my friend ashley for helping me come up with the idea and supporting this fic, & my friend lucy for always being one of my lovely ameripan buddies. u guys are amazing! enjoy!

i dont own aph, obviously.

Chapter One

I've always hated the town meetings. Not because it's an hour and a half, but because it was an hour and a half of our mayor preaching about how us Americans are so great and wonderful and the others were nothing but foolish fools. I hate suits. I hate my cologne. I hate standing and pretending to be the perfect little citizen my parents expect me to be. After all, I'm just a vulnerable 19-year-old dude who can't seem to afford contacts. . . not that they're in stock anymore. They stopped making them because our government is afraid that they "made the people see evil and no beauty", and I'm like, bullshit! What the hell am I going to do if my glasses break?! Well, I could buy new ones, but they are way too expensive. It's ridiculous how our economy hasn't changed a bit.

"In conclusion," our mayor, Jim Wazowski started. "We are a beautiful, and united nation. We stand by one another, we die by another, we fight by one another. America, the beautiful, we hold our hearts in honor. Meeting adjourned." The crowd builds up an applause and I cringe. Thank the Lord that's over.

My mother pulls me in for a hug and I groan. "OH! I'm so very proud of you!" She kisses my forehead. "You are such a great son and role model for your brother!"

My little brother, Matthew, who's really only a year younger, looks up at me and smiles weakly. Poor dude. He feels the same things I do.

To make things even worse, my dad came into view. "We're all proud of you and your brother," he said.

I laugh nervously. "Can we just, uh. . . go home now? Please?" I practically begged.

As we walked along the dusty road that was once a highway toward home, let me explain a few things. After World War III, everything just fell apart: economic depression, dictatorships, racism, public killings. . . all that shit. The remaining immigrants are basically being treated like garbage and are being referred to as the Minorities. Creative, right? Anywho, I've never met any of these people, mainly because of the strict law that says it's forbidden for people of different race/religion/culture to mingle with each other. Over the years of my existence, I've tried really hard to not throw myself into the horrible world that is politics, but somehow I can't help but feel that I want to do something. . . something that'll change this country and this world for the best. Even things were tense before the war. It all started with one simple nuke launched from North Korea that destroyed the West coast and basically every country got involved and blah blah. . . you get it. Now, I didn't live during this, but my grandpa sure loves to preach about the time he blew off some Russian soldier's legs. Very proud of himself, talks about it at every family gathering. Ugh.

When I finally unlock the door of our house, I immediately jump onto the love seat and relax. My mother shakes her head disapprovingly at me, and my father sighs. My brother Matthew joins me by sitting on the floor next to me, twirling around his polar bear keychain in his hand. He looks up at me, smiles, then looks back down. I chuckle a little and try to strike up a conversation.

"How are ya?" I ask, staring at him.

Matthew meets my gaze and thinks for a moment. ". . .Nothing much. You?" he responds.

"Meh."

"Same."

I let my arm dangle off the edge of the couch and I stare up at the ceiling. I breathe in deeply, exhailing slowly. My family is sort of an interesting bunch. My father, Francis, is a very interesting, romantic man. He comes from a long line of Frenchies. Very, very romantic. My mother, Alice, has a British line of ancestory. She tends to get very uptight at moments and will usually visit the run-down bar at the end of our street to calm her nerves. But she still manages to keep an innocent appearence with her long pigtails and glasses. My mother and father love each other very much, and I love them. I just wish they would keep it down during their all-night fiascos. . . if you know what I mean. I even heard at one point that Matthew had some Canadian blood, but I have no idea where the fuck Canada is.

"When are you going back to work?" I ask.

"Hm?" Matthew looks up at me. "Oh, er. . . probably in a couple of months." he responds. He works with a secret group of people that goes down to Antartica every so often to study polar bears. Apparently they're the only species in that continent that are still alive.

"Why so long?" I ask while sitting up.

"Eh, you know how secure the airport shitheads are. They're starting to get suspicious because of how often we go out. So, we're taking it easy." He stands up, taking off his jacket and untucking his white dress shirt. He doesn't bother with the bow tie. He tucks his wavy, blond hair behind his ears. "You want a drink?" he asks.

"Nah," I stand up. "I'll get it myself."

Matthew smiles at me and chuckles. "Alrighty then. . . wait, where's mom and dad?"

I place my hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, bruh." We both chuckle. But I can't help but wonder what they are doing. When Matthew walks into the kitchen, I powerwalk to my parent's bedroom and look in through the crack in the door. I can hear soft music playing, and I see my parents in a loving hold: my mom has her head buried into my dad's chest with her arm wrapped around his waist. My dad rests his head on top of my mom's head and his arm sits comfortably on her shoulder. Their free hands are intertwined in a hold as they sway back and forth. I smile at the scene presented to me, and then walk away.

Night finally falls outside and I'm still hanging out in the living room, watching TV. It's been an hour since curfew went into effect, and I'm bored as hell. Well, I'm always bored. I run my hands through my hair and sigh deeply. A sex scene appears on TV, and I make a face as I feel pain in my lower region begin to grow. Damnit, not again.

I try my best to brush off my problem as I make my way to the window and stare outside. I glare at how pretty and perfect my neighborhood looks and then I glare even harder at the people guarding the entry way into the neighborhood. I hate being locked up and not being able to explore. I want to see the world. I want to see everything. My right hand balls into a fist and I jerk myself away from the window, breathing heavily. I feel my skin begin to itch with curiosity and the mild claustrophobia of being in this house. I can't take it anymore. I'm going out.

I carefully knock on my brother's door and I hear a groan. "Go to bed, Alfred," He says groggily.

I step back a little. "How did you know it was me?" I ask,

"You're the only one who stays up this late, dude."

"Well, wake up. I'm coming in."

I open the door and walk to the side of the bed, taking a place to sit. My brother has always been sort of cool with me doing crazy shit, but this time? …I'm not so sure.

"What do ya want?"

I shuffle the nails on my thumbs as I try to think of what to say. "Well…I'm going out tonight."

Matthew nearly jumped out of bed when he heard. "Are you nuts?!" He exclaimed.

"Yeah, pretty much."

He grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me in towards his face. "Now, you listen to me and you listen well: If you get shot while doing your little exploring fiasco, I'm telling mom and dad that it was all your fault…which it is!" He lets go of my shirt and tries to smooth it out. "Sorry…"

It was somewhat intimidating listening to my brother whisper-yell uncomfortably close to my face, but oh well.

I get out of the bed and walk away. As I stand in the doorway, I turn back around to face Matthew to say my final words before I head out.

"If I'm not back by sunrise, it's either I met the love of my life or I'm dead. Either way, you better plan a funeral."

When I safely crawl out the back window, I'm immediately met with the uneasiness of the night. I cross my arms as if I'm protecting myself from anything that lurks in the dark corners. Hah! I must look vulnerable as hell. As I take a step forward, my eyes seem to adjust more and more and I catch the faint sight of a fence in the distance. I gasp a little and the curiosity seems to swim through my veins and take over my nerve system. I walk, then I jog, then I sprint, then I break out into a full-on run as I creep through backyards and charge my stealth into full effect. My adrenaline starts to pump and I feel a smile creep across my face.

I've never been this ecstatic in my life.

I screech to a halt when I see the guards spread out across the entrance of the fence and I breathe heavily. Damnit! I think. I have no idea how I'm going to-

Wait.

I see a fair-sized rock next to me and a power box of some sort sitting on what seems to be the lock that opens the fence. I chuckle darkly and I pick up the rock. If I fuck this up, then goodbye exploration and goodbye life.

My hands get unnecessarily sweaty as I get into my proper throwing stance. I wind my arm way back and I take a deep breath. My adrenaline seems to be going on forever and I feel my body tingling all over.

"On three…" I tell myself. "1…2…

…3."

I throw the rock as hard as I can and I watch as it flies at a perfect arch and hits the power box; sparks flying and the guards running away from it. Then suddenly, BOOM! EXPLOSION! And the fence has opened.

I've made it to the world of the minorities.