This is a game. You have two choices. Two different endings for the story. Choice one: Survival .Choice two: Death. This is where it begins.

BEGININING!

prologue:

Alfred held up his gun and shot into the mass of people. This was hell. This is what he always avoided, war, so why was he here? Why was he standing in a trench, hands trembling and blood soaking his clothing? Sometimes war just couldn't be avoided. He stopped momentarily and coughed. A man ran up to him and a stinging cut let itself be known in his side Something warm trickled down his chin. Blood. Blood of his people. It was only natural, for so many people of his country bleeding, dying. However, this was different, usually only the memory or faint taste. To have it physically be there, he looked down and to his horror it was no tiny cut, the Bayonet of someones gun was thrusted into his stomach. Oh dear God...

"ALFRED." Arthur ran up to the man now on his knees, another man was standing over him, holding a gun, ready to deliever the final blow but looked up, distracted by England's voice. England quickly lifted his musket and shot, the man tryed to move out of the way but the bullet hit its target and he fell. England didn't even think twice about the man when he knelt next to Alfred. Sounds of yelling and gunshot were all around them.

"En...gland?" Alfred panted as he lay on his back, blood slowly soaking the already bloody mess of his shirt.

"Y-Yeah." England replied, unsure what to do as his brother lay on the muddied earth. Alfred, however, smiled.

"Aha, got myself into quite a mess, haven't I?" He said before he coughed. As he did, blood sprayed from his mouth. England only stared. "I-...I'm sorry..." Alfred panted after he had finished coughing.

"For what, you git? It's my fault your here." As England said this he couldn't stop tears falling from his eyes.

"No-...did this to myself." Alfred said, struggling to get the words out between breaths. "Nothing...to do...with you..."

"Nonsense, if I hadn't bothered you about the war, Japan wouldn't haven't assumed you as an Enemy and you would be at home now."

"It...would've happened anyway." Alfred coughed. England finally snapping out of it, realized he should treat the wound.

"Where are you hurt?" He said panicked.

"England, I dont think you can do-"

"JUST TELL ME YOU BLOODY BASTARD!" He shouted, not wanting to drag it out any longer. Alfred sighed.

"Stomach." He mumbled. England immediatly tore opened Alfred's shirt and gasped. The wound was bad but what made him gasp was a fresh, bright, angy burn right next to it.

"This...is this...?"

"Yeah, Pearl... Harbor."

"O-oh..." England didn't take to long staring at it. He went back to examening the bayonet looked like Alfred had been stabbed multiple times before England got to wound was,indeed, in the stomach The pain must have been terrible.

"Don't...see why your surprised, I'm...sure you have worse." Alfred obviously was growing weaker but still was stubbornly making conversation, git.

"Y-yeah but still..." It was true, he had worse but Alfred always seemed like nothing could hurt him. It was a bit of a shock. England shook his head as if it would wipe the image away and ripped the cloth he had in his pouch. He then took out a little vial.