There are two sides to every story. There's the side that the world is familiar with. The side that can easily be shared with your friends and coworkers. The side that is allowed to be discussed in the daylight and over dinner.
But then there's always the other side. It lingers like a cold chill in October, seeping through the warm scarves and jackets and clinging to the soul with its relentless fingers. Others may not see it, but it grips onto the heart, not letting go and demanding attention at the worst of times. It is the kind of story that is not meant for the faint of heart, the story that others should always remain wary of. The story that you don't tell your parents, instead lying and saying that you just fell out of a tree.
History has always been told by the winners: tales of kings, queens, knights, emperors, and proud nations that refused to be ruled over. It is an ongoing tale about heroes and villains, of adventure and freedom. History, on the outside, is about all of the victors and triumphs that have shaped the maps of today.
But very few remember the darker side of History. It was the side that should be remembered, as it was where the real mistakes and tragedies lay. Humans like to forget the pain and suffereing, believing progress can go on without reflecting on the scars of the past.
America was perfectly aware that many of his people were guiltiest for this.
On the outside, Alfred F. Jones was loud, obnoxious, competitive, ambitious, a large goof-ball, and generally playful. Those who knew him as more knew that he was also extremely curious, and very adventurous. Those who thought they knew him best knew what he was really capable of.
It's a very short list.
Alfred knows most of the languages in the world, save for some of the rarer dialects. He is ridiculously clever, and he knows how to put his curiousity to good use. He uses his ambition and intelligence to his benefit, often for those times that he needs to intimidate the others and sway them to his favour. Often, when he's not too busy, he'll enroll for a semester at one of the many universities his people have, keeping up to date with the Culture, Sciences, and Ideas of his people.
Sometimes he is extremely grateful to be in the body of a 19 year old.
Alfred has a tendency to follow in Rome's footsteps. He is good at learning from the others, then reshaping things they had created to his own design and greater benefit. As far as invention, however, he is still a genius. In the melting pot that is his nation, there is endless opportunity, and he loves to work with his people to create and shape.
There is also the side to Alfred Jones that very, very few have seen. It was a side that they prefer to ignore. A side that should never come back to light. It was a side that only a few had seen before, a side that shows just how powerful and terrifying the young nation can be.
The first to truly get a glimpse of this side had been Scotland, who had seen the wilder side of the Native Americans come out to play on several visits while the boy was still a colony. Alistair Kirkland had seen the same fire and sadism that had once been in his eyes, a look that had shown in Arthur's eyes when he was still a boy. The ginger said nothing to his younger, bushy-browed sibling, feeling it far easier to let it go, and to hope that the Natives and the Europeans would find a harmony one day.
England had been the second to see it. That light hadn't shown itself during the Revolution, but decades later in New Orleans. The mighty British Empire always claimed to be afraid of nothing, but the look in his brother's eyes terrified him that day. It would later become one of the deciding factors in the War.
Spain had been next, The Alamo a cold chill in his memory as the Americans sought revenge for their fallen fort and brothers. Spain had only jokingly accepted the Americans up until that point, but then he saw the same bloodthirst that he had carried as a Conquistador, a power he prayed to God Alfred would never use in the wrong way.
Mattie, with his soft violet eyes, had held him during the next phase. The Candian wasn't troubled by his twin's sudden outbursts, instead holding as tightly as he could to the nation that was tearing itself apart. The still-British colony felt that England wanted to make a move, and he was determined to not let that happen.
America was being torn apart. During the course of the 19th Century, Alfred was bipolar.
Expansion out West was progress. But the trail was littered with death and murder. In essence, America was killing himself to make himself more powerful.
Looking back, the blond still cannot forgive himself for the horrors that befell his people. His mother's people. He's still ashamed by the actions of his citizens, all for "progress and expansion."
Slavery was the thinnest line for him. Alfred could proudly admit that he had kept no slaves in his household, the very thought of forcing someone to his bidding going against every ideal he had fought and nearly died for in the latter 1700's. Yet within the same instance, he also saw the benefits of having the trade. His economy was booming.
Cities were spreading like wildfire. It was a time of progress. Trees were felled constantly, making room for marble, wood, and steel. The Railroad was cutting permanent lines into his skin, making the Wild become significantly more accessible.
There were moments where he would scream out, cursing Congress and the system itself, demanding that they stop. "You're destroying our homeland!"
But his words went unheard. "Surely you understand that this is all for you? This is to make you more powerful, America. This is for you. All for our people."
"You're not doing this for the people! You're doing this for yourselves. If you were doing this for them, you wouldn't be killing them."
"You don't understand. They are savages. They have minds like animals, and must be treated as such."
That was when America decided to stop trusting his government.
Canada had seen the icy blue of his brother's eyes, fury and hatred shining in them as the American went to war on himself. Jason Jones became a frequent visitor of Al's, just as divided as his other self. The two supported each other, despite the difference of colour for their uniforms.
Jason fought with the Confederacy, working with the Underground Railroad. Despite his sick, twisted pleasure with seeing people suffer, he knew this was wrong, and his duty lay in helping the innocent.
Alfred served in the Union, but refused to fight on the front lines. Instead, he focused on tending the wounded, working side by side with Ms. Barton as they steered through the chaos to save everyone they could.
America would go to war with any nation he may need to protect his country. But he would never fire on one of his own people.
The two Americans were surprisingly close after the War finally drew to a close, both equally ready to get the government and economy to function properly again. With peace slowly coming back to the now united nation, the two set off on their own, extending an invitation to their Canadian siblings to join them on adventure out West.
Matthew declined, seeing his twin's eyes back to their normal sky blue. America was at peace, and the Canadian wanted his brother to enjoy every minute of it.
Francis and Lovino were exposed next. France would reach his awakening during the First Great War, America's pride and cockiness showing with every plane that flew over the vineyards in the Frenchman's home.
Lovino had a rude awakening several years later, in a back alley of New York.
The Italian had been taking care of some issues with one of the families that had immigrated to America. Despite his authority, the immigrants claimed that Italia had no more control over their lives, and soon shots were ringing out. Lovino was alone until suddenly Alfred appeared, stepping in immediately and surprisingly, seemingly out of nowhere.
When the smoke cleared, the brunette watched the blond carefully, a light in the other's eyes that scared the living shit out of him.
Terrified and awed, Italia watched as the American approached one of the wounded, kneeling down with his familiar grin on his face. "Make sure to tell the others that your kind of attitude is not welcome here. Next time… Next time you won't be so lucky." The grin had faded, and a dark glare was aimed at the wounded human. "This may be the land of opportunity, but that invitation doesn't extend to people like you."
Lovi flinched as America spit on the ground, the blond straightening himself with a fluid languid poise that the Italian could only thing to compare with a cat over its prey.
The American soon helped the Italian on his way, and it was that moment in which Lovino realized how valuable an alliance between the two nations would be. Come WWII, he was proven right.
The Second Great War was a violent jar to everyone. The whole world was rattled and startled by the power of the Americans, the young idealistic nation soon climbing to the ranks of being the world's superpower. Despite his status, he was still taunted.
Al knew that everyone still considered him to be just a child. He was just a young, foolish boy who thought he was ready for the Big Leagues. Surprisingly, it had been Prussia who adamantly supported his participation in the new World Conferences. The dissolved nation had always known that the boy would become powerful, seeing a spark in the lad's eyes during his original training. But like England, Prussia tried to keep America from interfering in European affairs, praying that the rest of the world would never have to see the darker side of the young nation.
During the Cold War, Al was very close to snapping. The intense chess match he had found himself trapped in with Ivan proved to be very draining, and it taxed him on a level he hates to admit. He partially also blames the Civil Rights Movements as well, though if he could go back, he would still march in them all over again. Again, Jason and Alfred teamed up, both working for the equality and freedom that allAmericans deserved.
As time went on, Al became much better at faking his smile. He knew the others were using him. His people were stretched across the world: aiding, fighting, studying, exploring, and learning. Americans were naturally curious, driven to learn and discover. Sometimes Al had to sit back and acknowledge how far they have come in 200 years. But they aren't happy.
Far from it.
There are a lot of things going on with his people right now. The wars in the Middle East never seem to end. The gang wars are still eating him away inside. Prejudice and ignorance leave a hole in his chest. The government is at a standstill, even if the budget has finally passed. He is thoroughly concerned, terrified of what may happen.
America had been founded on Liberty, Justice, Equality, and the Pursuit of Happiness. No matter what may happen with the politics, and no matter the stereotypes, the ideals that Washington, Jefferson, and Franklin pondered so much over were still strong.
Despite everything that's happened to him, Alfred still believes in the American Dream.
But so far, many of the things that had happened to him make him fear the nightmare that his nation could become.
He had seen the Trail of Tears. He had lived it. While he felt it was amazing how fast the culture was growing, and how quickly he was growing, he had despised the fact they were relocating his people. He could feel himself being pulled apart, bit by bit. If anyone were to ask, Al would honestly and vehemently state the Custer was no hero, not on that day.
He found it mildly ironic that he had more in common with William Bonney and Jesse James than he did with some of the so called "heroes" of the Wild West.
When he and Jason started to work together, he was surprised how quickly he and the other got along. Neither trusted the politicians, finding them to mostly be power-hungry, greedy hypocrites.
In their own ways, Alfred and Jason were going to ensure that America would always be a land of Freedom, no matter the risks they may need to take.
He knows the others keep trying to play him. But Al's always been a great actor. He adopted the act of idiocy for many reasons, some he still couldn't completely explain for himself.
One is that he is selfish. He doesn't want the others to know just how clever he really is. Al, despite his loud and obnoxious nature, pays very close attention. He only acts like can't read the atmosphere. But years of observation have given him access to secrets and knowledge the other would die to protect.
He wasn't considering using it as blackmail, per say. But it was always nice to have options to fall back on.
Being the world's superpower means covering himself completely.
No one really knows some of the things the blond hides behind his smile. Constant pain from the raging fires, the shortness of breath and erratic heartbeats whenever a twister would touch down, the inability to sleep properly, the dissatisfaction and ignorance of some of his people keeping him awake into the early hours of the morning. America was a mess, and yet he still smiled.
Alfred is as complicated as his people. He's an enigma, one that even he can't fully comprehend. He's sometimes terrified of looking into a mirror, not wanting to see what he has become.
He's always been calculating, intelligent, and manipulative. He's known it for centuries, decades before any of the Europeans even pursued Western Exploration. He has always strived for one thing though, and one thing only.
Freedom.
Freedom. It's not something that could be easily defined. To some, Freedom is the absence of oppression, the ability to pursue anything they wish. Some see Freedom as the ultimate goal, the chance to stand tall and not be tied down by any form of adversity. To many, Freedom is the right to speak, act, or to think as desired, without fearing any form of hindrance or restraint.
It's seen as broken chains, an open door, or sometimes even just a clean sheet of paper.
But to Alfred F. Jones, Freedom will always be a wide open sky, endless fields and mountains, trees to climb, deserts to explore, and the feeling of having no responsibilities for a while. It will always be the right to say, believe, pray, love, and live as you wish. It's a birthright that he believes belongs to all people, no matter their history, their body, their likes and dislikes.
There are two sides to every story. Many people are familiar with the lighter parts of America's timeline. The tales of exploration and discovery. The tall tales inspired by the great Western heroes. They know the tales about some of the miraculous battles that have occurred throughout the centuries.
But then there are the stories that are mere whispers from a dark alleyway. The stories that are murmured between truckers at 3 AM as they pause for fuel and rest. There are the rumours that spread like wildfire, too dark to be true.
But they are true.
And with every breath he takes, with every smile he fakes, Alfred F. Jones hopes that no one ever finds out. He will do anything to ensure that his people are safe. Anything.
Freedom will be protected at all costs.