Warnings: War (lots of it) devastation, death, blood, gore, nuclear war, mentions of torture, character deaths here and there (they're nations though, don't worry), murder, violence, dark themes all around, dark!America, dark!China, dark!Russia, them being megalomaniac, insane and power-hungry all around, and far too much background to this AU...
A/N: hello - this is a bit important concerning this AU. This piece is actually a prequel to the other installments in the same universe, and it took me some time to write - for a reason. I did extensive analysis into what Orwell wrote in the passages that were from Goldstein's book, and at the bottom of this fic there's a lot (and when I say a lot, trust me, it's over a thousand words) of explanation about different things concerning especially the timeline of this setting. Because Orwell doesn't make it blatantly clear as to how the universe came about, plus there's the issue that no-one knows if Goldstein's book can be trusted at all, I made a few basic assumptions... and then some deviations from the presumable universe. But if you want to be like reaaally up-to-date with the 'verse, its setting and its history inasmuch as what I make of it, it's all at the end of the fic. Thank you, and enjoy!
JULY 1941 - WASHINGTON D.C., USA
"Alfred, I-" Arthur cringes, and Alfred sees the awkward way in which he shifts, clearly uncomfortable with the situation he is in. He stands in front of Alfred, a rather old suit hanging on his thin frame, his health clearly affected by the war - the war that had begun less than a year before. But the Germans' strategy was very aggressive and taking a hard toll on the British. His face was ashen and his eyes shadowed by dark rings. Meanwhile, Alfred was lounging at his desk, his feet propped up comfortably on the desk, twirling a fountain pen in his hand. The document he had been reading through was laying forgotten on the desk, right under where his feet were.
"Arthur? Hello, Earth to Arthur, you still there?"
"Yes, yes, I am here, I am merely trying to say... something... which, well, isn't easy for me to say," Arthur coughs out, his eyes flitting about the office.
"Okay...?" There's another silence, when Arthur looks like he's about to say something, but thinks otherwise. "Arthur?"
"Yes, fine! You know very well of the situation Europe is in," Arthur states with whatever scraps of pride he has left. He still manages to lace his voice with feigned disinterest.
"Yeah, I am." Alfred finds this kind of funny almost, the way Arthur was trying put the dirt back into the grave Ludwig was digging for him, without Alfred's help when Alfred was sitting there with all the money in the world in his hands.
"Well, you've also heard about the... attack Britain faces." His voice and posture are stiff, tense, and Alfred's just trying to see every single opportunity this chance gives him. And they're all looking pretty appealing.
"Yeah," he states nonchalantly - not his war, not his business, not his country, not his men. That was his people's opinion. For now.
"And the British government was merely wondering if there was any way we could expect aid from our allies," Arthur continues, and falls silent. He shifts on his feet.
Alfred waits for another minute, seeing whether or not Arthur would say anything more. He doesn't. "Dude, that was terrible." Alfred almost laughs at the offended look Arthur tries not to give him. "If you're asking for help, you're gonna have to actually ask. I'm not psychic, I don't know what you want."
"Lord, you are making this far too painful for me and enjoying it, aren't you?"
Alfred frowns. "No, I'm just doing things the proper way." My way.
"Fine. I am here to ask if you would assist Britain in her campaign against Germany."
Alfred looks at Arthur with an expectant look, but nothing comes. "Well, if that's the best you can do... I guess we can send some weapons or food or something," he says with a shrug, and then takes his feet off the desk. He plasters a smile on his face and picks up a pen, ready to go back to reading his documents. "If that's all, have a nice day and have a nice war, I'll tell-"
"Alfred, I'm asking for help, please, how clear can I make this?" Arthur's frustration bubbles up.
"Well, there we go, you need help, but you haven't told me what kinda help. You gotta be specific, how should I know what you mean?"
"God, I don't know, Britain needs your help! I - Alfred, please, I need your help, the Germans are bombing London, who knows if there'll be anything left tomorrow morning? You're a powerful country, your economy has recovered at flash speed, I am helpless - Europe is helpless, Francis, Lars, Emma, they're all - Ludwig is far too good at this, I'm afraid if we wait any longer there will be no Britain to speak of!"
Alfred is silent for a minute. "Damn, you really need my help." Arthur manages not to roll his eyes, and Alfred gives him credit for it. He knows that if the positions were switched, he'd probably have punched Arthur in the face already. "Okay, I'll help you, but you gotta do this on my terms, okay?" Alfred stands up, his face set in a rather uncharacteristic grin. Arthur doesn't pay attention to that.
"What more do you want? For me to grovel at your feet and revere you as our saviour?" Arthur asks, his sarcastic tone slipping from his wounds and desperation.
"Nah, I'm not that greedy. I just wanna make sure that nothing is left to chance. We have to coordinate to the last man if we want to make this quick and painless. Painless for us, I mean," Alfred laughs. "We need this done quick and clean, and we really can't leave anything - anything - up for debate or whatever, and we need to function with perfect coordination. I'm saying I don't want you to shoot down my propositions, and consider my strategies."
"Oh." Arthur thinks for a moment. "We... we would be very grateful to receive your help."
"Good, guess I have to get to work then. Don't worry, our hero and save you from the clutches of evil!" Alfred smiles, and it's as if there's something he's not telling. Arthur doesn't ask because London might be in ruins, and he doesn't have time notice the gaslight gaze that follows him out the door.
FEBRUARY 1942 - MOSCOW, RUSSIA
"Listen, man, you gotta like trust me, 'kay? You can't win this war on your own, and we're on your side!" Alfred explains with a wide grin. Arthur stands off to the side, preferring to stay away from the young nation's idiocies.
"I am not involved in the war in Europe, you must understand that, Alfred."
Alfred sours. "Damn it, Ivan, I'm tryna help all of us. But you gotta help me too. Listen, I'll help you with Japan all you want, if you help me with Luddy boy over here. Fair deal, Yao's being run over by a little island, your east is under attack, so I'll pop in from the south and boom, three-sided attack and Kiku's done for. Problem sorted. Now remains Ludwig in the west, who's gettin' awful itchy about this business. I can just feel him wanting to get a look at Moscow." Alfred sees the look crossing Ivan's eyes, and knows he's won. "A-ha! You know it too! See? We double-attack him, war on two fronts, by Ludwig. The Italians aren't a problem, Berlin falls and Rome's ours straight off. Yeah?"
Ivan raises an eyebrow, but doesn't answer. Arthur sits down. It seemed like it would calm down from here.
"C'mon, pretty please, I ain't gonna beg, but this should make it an awful lot shorter and easier for the three of us." As an afterthought, Alfred looks at Arthur. "The four of us. So if you wanna help, do, but if ya wanna suffer for another... I don't know, three-four-five years or something, be my guest, I got all the time in the world." Alfred leans in and his voice drops to a sound only Ivan can hear. "Mister Uptight over there and your Lil' Sisters over at yours, on the other hand, may not." Alfred stands back up, and throws on his coat. It's a brand new, shiny, bomber jacket. "So, ya know, your pick. See ya 'round!" Alfred is moving out the door, and Arthur is more than confused at the hasty departure.
They're not even at the door before Ivan speaks. "Fine. I will help. Merely because it will make matters much easier for me." Ivan stands, and opens a door to another study. "We can talk in here."
"Sweet!" And Alfred follows Ivan in, but when Arthur tries to, he's barred entry by an apologetic Alfred. "Sorry, but this'll be easier if it's just me an' him, you see?" And he gives a flash of a smile before he closes the door on Arthur. He turns to Ivan. "What do you want, then?"
"You promised to help with Japan. Why should I want anything more?" Ivan asks with a glint in his cold eyes.
Alfred looks at him with an unamused gaze. "'Cause you're you, and it's never a simple yeah/no with you?"
"Europe."
"You're gonna have to be more specific."
"I want Europe," Ivan states, his tone simplistic.
"Hah, you're funny, but you're really having some sky-high delusions of grandeur with that if you think I'm just gonna-"
"I know what you're planning, Alfred, and I will have a share in that world of yours."
Alfred's eyes narrow. "Why are you so sure?"
"Because you need me to help you crush Ludwig. Sure, you can bomb him to the ground - but that is against your twisted 'hero' ideology, isn't it? You need other nations - like Arthur - to believe you are the 'good guy' for as long as possible for your plan to work properly. You need me to defeat Ludwig, and you need both Yao and me to make Kiku's fall swift and quick. I know your scientists are close to that weapon, but know that so are mine. And when I do have it, you will not find it easy to take the rug from under my feet."
"How do you know what I'm planning? Why would I plan anything?"
Ivan grins. Alfred is almost too sweet with this pretense. "Every country knows you were nothing short of displeased towards your leaders after '29 and their attempts to blame you. Yao and I both know something happened, during the Depression, and now you're here with an aggressive foreign policy, having all but taken control of the British Empire, and you are planning on taking power for yourself. Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor only cemented your alliance with Britain and the sentiment of revenge back home. That's why you support that growing revolution, isn't it? It's your opportunity to dismantle your government and put a new one in place."
"A new government would not do anything for me, doesn't change a thin-"
Ivan chuckles. "It does, especially if you're trying to put yourself into power. Remember, Alfred, that most other nations - especially Yao and I - have seen this before. Have tasted power, felt the craving, and seen what it does to a nation. If you're sure it will work, no-one will or can stop you. But denying it is useless. That craving? I can see it in front of my own eyes." He looks straight at Alfred.
Alfred's expression is much darker than it had been, but he tries to conceal it. He looks away before turning back to Ivan with deadpan eyes. "Fine, you can have half of Europe until Germany," Alfred concedes with a wave of his hand.
"All or nothing, Jones, that's the bargain."
Alfred's lip thins, and he shoves his hands into his pockets. He watches Ivan's cool eyes before huffing. "We don't have to settle on terms right now. Jus' help me, and I'll help you, and we can just sort this out once it's over with."
Ivan leans against his desk. "Ah." He shakes his head in amusement. "So that is how you wish to go about it."
Alfred looks affronted. "Don't know what the hell you mean, Braginsky, but I don't need to." He turns to leave. "This ain't over, but we'll put this on hold for now. See ya 'round."
"You most certainly will."
Alfred leaves, and Ivan waits only until he hears the American and his lapdog leave to call Yao. The Chinese man would most likely be interested in the underhanded imperialism Alfred was so obviously full of. And yet, Ivan had the feeling Alfred had been planning on his noticing it. Perhaps there was something more to that look of pure desire for worldwide hegemony in his eyes than he had let on.
MAY 1945 - BERLIN, GERMANY
The city around them lays in ruins, a shadow of what the grand European capital used to be. Buildings torn apart by bombs dropped from the sky, streets deserted as people had either been evacuated or killed; nothing living remains except the two men standing in a lareg square. Neither of these men pay attention to their surroundings, one because he cannot bear the sight, the thought of his capital in such a desolate state, the other because he has no interest in anything more than the man kneeling in front of him at the end of his rifle and the man who isn't there yet.
"Will you or will you not, kill me, Russia?" Ludwig asks, his voice strained and verging on irritated. How long had they been in this position, in complete silence? He's not sure any more.
"I precisely told him to meet us – rather, me – here, today. His troops are nowhere to be seen or heard, and I doubt he's anywhere closer than wherever they are." There's a dangerous undertone in Ivan's voice. "It is a pity for you, seeing how he most likely would have been kinder on you than I will be." A hint of a smile creeps up on Ivan's lips, and Ludwig tries his best not to think of it.
"I recognise my mistake, Russia. I do. Believe me." He isn't pleading.
"I have no reason to believe you at all, after all you were so very keen on breaking our agreement – remember?"
"You were already allied with the United States and Britain!" Ludwig tries not to shout, but there's a mild sense of panic mingling with all the other feelings that came with the end of a war as a defeated power.
"Technicalities – I had, at no point, intervened in your deeds nor had I attacked you. I am not a forgiving man, and you must know that already. If you do not," Ivan chuckles darkly, "you will find that out very soon. Ludwig looks at him expectantly, but Ivan merely grins. "If you come quietly, I will have no need to cause you harm. I would hate to employ any more force than I absolutely have to, this war has been very costly already, don't you think?" He snarls, and Ludwig almost flinches. "Stand." Ivan takes a step back and allows Ludwig some space. Dust clings to the creases in his worn uniform, and Ivan finds the sight an amusing change from what he remembers from the summer of 1939. Ivan shouts for his men, who come and surround the German with guns pointed straight at him. Ivan smiles. "If you'll follow me, I have many htings to do – the first and foremost of them being marching West and driving aw- meeting America's troops."
He can see from the look in Ludwig's eyes that he knows that he's done nothing but jump from a bad situation to a worse one.
AUGUST 1945 - TOKYO, JAPAN
"That was a rather impressive show of force," Yao states, looking at the wrangled form of Kiku Honda, bandaged and laying on a bed. The white sheets and bandages had been replaced only that morning, and still red stains marred them.
Alfred, Ivan and Yao are gathered in the room, all of them having entered with different intentions. And it looks as if none of them would leave with what they wanted.
"Pretty damn dramatic, I'll admit," Alfred grins, fully aware of what exactly Yao's words meant – he knew the two other powers want that same strength in their hands, and Alfred knows that Ivan is pretty close to getting it, too. "Well, I suppose since I defeated hi-"
He doesn't get to finish before Yao snorts. "Defeated him? You alone? Really, pray tell what my troops are doing in the area at all, then, if not aiding in the invasion. I believe you were the one to drag Ivan into this entire business, so you are effectively only sharing credit."
Alfred's lips twitch as he holds back a snideful remark. "Who, pray tell, has the bombs, hm?"
Ivan decides to interject, and perhaps knock the American's pride and egocentricity down a notch or two. "Do not get cocky, Alfred." Ivan smiles. "While it suits you, it is not a quality. Ludwig was rather kind enough to provide me with what information he has obtained in his research into nuclear fission. And you really expect that your Manhattan Project was completely secret? You've identified barely half the spies I had – still have, by the way – working on those weapons. I can promise that by next year you will not be acting so high and mighty."
Alfred resists the urge to snarl, but he can feel his temper rising. They're pushing hi sbuttons on purpose. "But you don't have them yet, I do."
"He's right," Yao says, but his grin betrays his intentions. "He has them, we do not. Ivan, I suggest you do not try to rile him up enough to throw a tantrum." Alfred's eyes snap to Yao, and fixate on him as they narrow, a warning. "A child has his toys, do not try to take them away from him."
Alfred scoffs. "Fine, have at Japan, divide it all you want. I want nothing to do with this piece of land."
At Alfred's response, Ivan lifts an eyebrow. "Whoever said anything about wanting or keeping Japan? This has been merely friendly debate between allies, has it not?"
"Yeah," Alfred finally snarls, his distaste for the situation obvious. "Friendly. Laugh all you want at the child of an ally, the young, silly superpower with the nuclear weapons, when you both are faced against me. Don't doubt me." Alfred straightens his back, his military uniform pristine with his gleaming medals. "Good day to both of you. And Ivan, please, get the fuck out of Europe. Thanks," he finishes with a bitter grin, before marching out of the room.
Only when the door slams shut does Yao give an amused laugh. "It seems he's going through some rather dramatic changes within his government." His smile falls, and Ivan notes the way his eyebrows crease in thought. "I wonder if -"
"Not here, not now, Yao. We know next to nothing of what exactly is going on in the United States. For that reason alone, I believe we should let the matter rest for a while. Once we know more, we can speculate."
"Yes, fine," Yao relents, but his eyes don't leave the door through which Alfred left.
1947 - SHANGHAI, CHINA
Ivan reads the note over once again, and looks up. From his mediocre Chinese skills, he can only guess he's about in the right place. He stands awkwardly amidst Yao's citizens, about a head or two taller than most of them. He finally sees a familiar faze drifting in the mass of people towards his spot, and Yao's soon in front of him.
"Come on, I don't have all day. Shanghai hasn't been attacked yet, but let's not take our chances."
Ivan follows Yao into the grand building he was standing in front of. They make their way through the hurried officials and politicians, and walk into an open and empty meeting room. Ivan pulls out a file from his jacket, and opens it to a page that showed a military report and aerial recon photos. "What the hell is this about?"
Yao lifts an eyebrow, glaring at the images. "Am I supposed to know what that is meant to be?"
"Yes, seeing as those are your troops, in my territory. And for the record, I do not like that in the least," Ivan hisses. "My land, my rules - and it is most definitely not yours to just take as your own. You will remove those wandering troops, or they'll probably meet an untimely death. A few well-placed bombs should do the trick."
Yao rolls his eyes. "Ivan, I don't know who you think you are, but it is not like you to be this over-dramatic. My apologies, my troops must have lost their way. Where are they now?"
"Afghanistan. Get them out of there."
"Certainly, I will." Yao yawns for effect. "This was obviously not why you came here, yes?"
Ivan sits into a chair. "And why would you think that?"
"A few misplaced troops have never granted me audience with the great and mysterious Ivan Braginsky before, I do not see why it should now. And I have a feeling this is related to our mutual friend and enemy."
"Perhaps, it depends on what you are thinking of doing." Ivan fiddles with the corner of one of the photos, before picking it up to inspect it closer.
"Ivan, have you seen the state of my country?" Yao asks, curiosity filling his voice.
"More or less."
"If you had, you would know for sure," Yao snaps, and Ivan glares at him. "I know that you're experiencing the change too - but it's more violent here. My government was weak before the war, and even weaker during it. Japan made a terribly good job at tearing my country apart, and it turned my people against their leaders." Ivan lays back in the chair, feeling this would be a longer meeting. Yao had something in mind, and Ivan was determined to find out what it was. "And now, the entire government is falling, the people are rioting, and I shan't step in until the very last minute. If Alfred really is doing what we both suspect him to by now, then it's in both our best interests we do the exact same. He's obviously taking power for himself – and we both know the dangerous situation that places the rest of the world in."
Ah, Ivan thinks. So he's thought the exact same as I have.
"We cannot," Yao continues, "withstand the American wave that is sure to come if we have a mortal, fallible leader. I trust you agree with me, don't you, Ivan?"
Ivan nods. "Yes, I believe you've had the same thought as I did. However, he still is the only one with those weapons, though I am a few months away from obtaining them. I do realise the fact that if he were to take control of his own nation, power for himself as you said, then that causes a problem. He doesn't know, or doesn't care, of how having power induces a craving for it – especially in nations. I believe we could easily do the same, yes, but I can see you're biding your time. Until what, exactly?"
"You act as if you did not want it as well, and that denial is more dangerous than whatever Alfred is playing at." Ivan waves the comment aside. Yao shrugs, his eyes fleeting out the window to stare at the come-and-go of the city. "I'm waiting until the right time. My people need to... they need to - how would you... they have to get it out of their system, if you understand. They were far too displeased with the previous system of government to want one immediately. But even then, they need to truly see the chaos that having no government would do to them. And only after that, will the new system rise up as their "saviour", and they will accept it with open arms. I believe Alfred will have much more trouble settling a government, and I think you will... well, Russia has always been a special case. Your established government is fragile and won't last long, but I believe your political squabbles are getting to the people, aren't they? What with your leader's failing health?"
Ivan glares at Yao. "Yes, they are. But there is no telling - even I do not know what may happen - as to how things will turn out."
Yao smiles. "Of course not, Ivan, no-one can predict the future - as much as some people try or want to, there is no telling how things will turn out. But there are ways to steer the future in a more specific direction, of course."
Ivan almost laughs. It had been a while since he had seen that look cross Yao's face, but he had forgotten how well it suited the elder nation. "I agree with you wholeheartedly. And it has been a rather hellishly pointless few centuries, has it not? I myself am getting tired of my bosses abusing their power at the cost of my people. I believe it is time for change, no?"
Yao smiles wickedly, fangs bared, and it's so terrible and beautiful all at once that Ivan is almost drawn in by his mere expression. "We shall find out soon enough."
JANUARY 1950 - LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM
"While political disagreements in the Soviet government are becoming more and more common with the Soviet Premier's declining health, their international stance is as aggressive as it was before the German defeat. In a speech given by the Foreign Minister, threats of nuclear retaliation were made if the Americans did not remove their troops from Western Europe immediately-"
"Fucking sunuvabitch," Alfred mumbles, and Arthur tries to focus on the paper in front of him. Alfred's been in and out of his office over the past two weeks now, and Arthur still hasn't found out what it was exactly he came to Britain to do. The war was, technically, over. Germany had been driven back to their place, and Japan was more or less run over by Allied troops. The problem seemed to be that Alfred didn't like Russian and Chinese involvement, at least in the extent it had been given. From the beginning of the war when American and British troops had virtually merged into one army, Arthur'd been very much cast aside from the planning of the war effort. He supposed that because he had been the weaker link and the one to ask for help, he considered it only fair that Alfred should have most control over the operations (as much as it pains to admit him, the kid does have quite brilliant brains when he sets his mind to something. His attention span is... less notable). And after that, the joint American-British-Russian-Chinese effort from 1944 onward had given the war a rather swift end, both in the Pacific as in Europe.
And that light, that terrible light that rose into the sky, higher than the sun, a cloud darker than death-
"What's he tryna do? Prove something? Lure me into nuclear war? Does he really hate Moscow that much?" Alfred rants, and Arthur's thoughts are cut off.
"Alfred, I really do not know what he may be trying to do."
Alfred looks surprised to see Arthur is in the room. "What're you doing here?"
Arthur furrows his brows. "Working, Alfred, this is my office."
Alfred turns around and takes in the room. "Huh. Well, whatever. You know, you're not very helpful," Alfred states simply before leaving the room. Arthur is now more baffled than ever at the odd behaviour of the younger nation.
Outside, Alfred fidgets impatiently. None of this is working as he wanted. With the way Europe was in ruins, he thought he could very easily swoop in, save the day and establish himself as the next great power. The problem came when he had first seen his own greed in Ivan's eyes, and this later reflected in Yao's grin. He had never counted on them. He'd increased military spending. So had they. He'd sped up research. So had they. Every single one of his moves, they repeated or predicted and prevented.
His troops are soon to be cornered back in western France, and he doesn't like that in the least. But Ivan's troops are constantly being driven upwards in Central Africa. Yao is so adamant on the Middle East, but he's facing both Alfred's and Ivan's want for the oil there. Yao and Alfred have an on-going disagreement over the former territories of the Japanese Empire, whose mainland is now under Chinese rule. Even if Yao is currently facing the seeds of a civil war, with pseudo-revolutions plaguing the country, his army is still as vicious as ever outside his territory. Alfred has his doubts that Yao is actively trying to stop any revolts or political changes.
Alfred hates this kind of odd tug-of-war they have going on in five different directions, but he has the feeling that it is, in a way, inevitable - with the way all three have been eyeing the world for some time now, it was to be expected that he'd be met with resistance.
He's facing a two-way stalemate. The only bright side was, that so are the other two.
And now that the Soviets have nuclear weapons too, Alfred would bet Ivan has a warhead with Alfred's name emblazoned on it, with the address being straight to Alfred's capital. Alfred had his own personal present for Ivan, should the time come to use it. The thought doesn't cause as much fear and worry in Alfre as he had thought, but merely more anger and want to be more powerful than either of the other two nations.
But he's not quite ready yet to unleash hell on earth.
MARCH 1952 - LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM
"What the hell is this about, Arthur? You signed us off to Alfred!"
"It's not a surrender, we're not even at war!" Arthur protests, but it seems as if it's to no avail. He never did know the boy had such a strong want for independence and freedom - Arthur had thought that was more Alfred's thing. But not Matthew's.
"No, but you basically made yourself - and that, by extension, includes Australia, New Zealand and me, Canada - vassal states of America!" Matthew's anger is frothing, and Arthur fails to see why.
"Alfred's your brother! It's an alliance! What are you so terribly thrown off about?"
"Lemme - this article! 'After the British-American Treaty a mere three years ago, the two countries - the Empire and the Superpower - tighten their alliance effectively as far as possible without becoming one single country' - you've really basically given Alfred control of the British Empire!" Matthew flings his arms up in frustration. "And you didn't even ask any of us!"
"I could just as well ask Alfred to do all the things he asks me to do! Mutual defense means we defend each other, not just one way!"
Matthew laughs, but it's a dangerous laugh. "Really?! You fell for that? He's been wanting this since the beginning of the war! His foreign policy is all over the place, he was way too eager to get involved, he's way too protective of whatever bits of Africa or Europe or Asia he's still holding onto - and the same with Ivan! That's why they're so goddamn vicious to each other, they want all the world for themselves! Who do you think is gonna be closest to the nuclear threats, him or you? Who is basically Ivan's neighbour? Who is the perfect target if one wanted to wound a territory that's indirectly important to Alfred, without harming the mainland itself and declaring all-out war? Is it him? Is it really Alfred? Mutual defense means you defend him, you're the target standing in front of him, you're his pawn he can place in just the right spot! And because of you, now I, Jett, James, Allistair, Connor, Dylan - every single one of your territories is gonna fall into his hands! You have to understand - you've sold us off! There is nothing - nothing you can say that will make me go down easily. If I have to fight him alone, I will, but I will not surrender to his megalomaniac ideas of world domination like you did!"
Never before, since first finding the Canadian, had Arthur seen the distrust, betrayal and anger lighting up Matthew's eyes. He had a nagging feeling Matthew was right, but he couldn't be. Alfred was their brother, he would never think something like that. "Alfred is our brother, please, give him the benefit of the doubt, Matthew. He would not do that to either you, nor me, nor anyone of us. Whatever he's got going on with Ivan is his problem, and he knows that," Arthur states coolly, wanting to end this conversation - if Matthew continues, he knows he'll have to see his side of things. But he can't admit he's been blind, he hasn't, Alfred isn't that type of nation. Ivan? Yes. Yao? Definitely. Arthur himself? At one point, yes, he was. But Alfred, the young nation with now just about the most power in the world? Never.
Matthew's voice falls back to a mere whisper, and his eyes are worried and nervous and almost terrified. "Arthur, please-"
"Matthew, he's not-"
The door flings open, slamming against the wall. Both Matthew and Arthur hear it crack. Alfred is in the doorway, a wild look in his eyes - feral and deadly and nuclear - and rumpled clothes. "Arthur - Matthew - it's... it... Jesus!"
And he's back out, and neither have any idea what's going on. They dash after the crazed American. He's standing outside, looking at the sky - immobile, waiting.
"Alfred, what're you-"
"It's started, Arthur, it's started!" Alfred cries out, and he turns back to the other two. They can't tell whether he's grinning like a wolf or baring his teeth in anger, but it looks as if a seal has cracked somewhere in his mind. "He's done it, I took the initiative to retaliate - God, this is, I've never,..." He trails off, and turns back to stare at the clouds.
Maybe he's trying to catch a glimpse of the missiles, is Arthur's grim thought. He doesn't think he's quite processed Alfred's words yet, but he knows he should be doing something. And it's not before his right side explodes with a thousand knives and searing heat that he realises the true meaning of what Alfred had just told him. He barely hears the shrill scream before he's opening his eyes, and he's looking at the sky and then it's Matthew - or Alfred - and it's Matthew again, and there's sound, constant ringing and ringing and ringing and a muffled shout of his name someone was calling him but who but who he didn't know there was too much too much too much and pain and warmth and his eyes snap open again and he doesn't know where he is and it's white and white and too bright -
"Arthur? Arthur can you hear me? Arthur? Hello? Are you awake?"
"Aghck-" His voice breaks and his throat constricts and for a moment he can't breathe and there's something in his mouth and - there's a figure on his side and he turns his head and sees Matthew.
"Don't try to speak, or talk, or - or stand up, or anything. You're injured, you were - you were - Jesus fucking Christ, you were attacked," Matthew breaks off in disbelief, as if he hasn't realised those words until now. He snaps back to Arthur, who's trying to make sense from behind the pain churning the side of his torso and spreading to his whole body. Was this was radiation felt like? "It's all his fault, God, it's all his fault, he brought this on you - I have to - I need to..." He isn't sure what he needs to do, but it's something. He needs to break off from the alliance - the merger - and he needs to set his country afoot and ready for war. With the way Alfred looked at Arthur after he had screamed and fallen was... it was terrifying. "I can't leave you, he's gonna - he's gonna get you killed..." Matthew mutters, and he suddenly hears gurgling. Arthur's trying to speak again, and his throat is so mutilated and it's spread - yellow, red and black skin marred upwards from his chest, and Matthew hadn't even seen the state of the rest of his body. Matthew tries to tell him not to, not to speak, but he won't stop and so Matthew scrambles for the pen and paper on the nightstand, pressing the pen into Arthur's hand, the arm containing tubes leading back and forth from it.
It takes Arthur a moment to realise what Matthew gave him, but when he does, he shakily spells out two words: Help yourself.
Matthew's eyes set and his lip thins, but he looks at Arthur with a soft gaze. "I promise, I will not give up until I die. And then I'll come back for you." Arthur nods, and the glisten in his eye might be tears. Matthew takes a long look at Arthur before leaving, because he doesn't know if he'll ever see Arthur again, but it's not yet time for good-byes. He refuses to say good-bye.
Maybe it's better he doesn't. Then at least, that way, it's not definite.
JANUARY 1956 – TOKYO, JAPAN
"I thought I warned you already," Yao states, circling around the bound man, who mutters something in Japanese – it sounds pleading. "Number one, speak Chinese and so I can hear you. Number two, well, I think you know what that is, don't you? The reason why you're here."
Japan's head hangs, his eyes cast downwards. His hair, dirty and caked in blood and grease – he's been in this room for some time already – sways from side to side in his pathetic, weak attempt at shaking his head.
"Surely you can venture a guess, can't you?" Yao taunts. "You were always one of the brightest youths I had encountered on my continent, you know. I don't doubt your ability to guess why you are here. Or at least, I would not have doubted it some mere years ago. After all, I suppose you no longer are,... quite as present as you used ot be, hm?"
Still, he receives no response, and while he enjoys the silence, he would rather appreciate knowing whether or not he had broken through the former "Empire".
A rather short-lived empire that was.
Yao had made sure of that.
"What do you want, please, tell me what you want," Kiku whispers, so quiet, almost defeated. "Please, don't put me in that room."
Yao raises an eyebrow. At least he had gotten somewhere with the nation that had so many years ago decided to invade his land. Yao had made sure to repay in kind. During his long history, he has tried every single way of keeping power. Be it given to his people or to a heavenly government, every one had crumbled after some time.
He was determined to never allow that to happen, not this time, not any more.
Ivan and Alfred were determined to do the exact same, and so Yao doubted the three of them had very different ways of keeping that power where they wanted it – in their hands.
"I want perfect obedience from you. I don't expect to get it yet, I know that much," Yao laughs. "It takes time to break a nation – a long, very long time. Hundreds of years of occupation have rarely been enough, but then again,no-one has ever tried completely breaking a nation's mind and psyche without dissolving and dismantling it first."
They would, however, be the first to try.
"Please let me be, please, please, please..."
And try they would – until they succeeded or succumbed.
AUGUST 1958 – MILITARY HEADQUARTERS OF OCEANIA
Five years.
That's all it had taken to turn the world around and steer its steady course off-rail.
Sure, Alfred had been bed-bound for the majority of the first two or three years, but it actually did more good than damage.
With their national representative ill and out of commission, the US government had basically dug its own grave. Attacking and retaliating against the Soviet government's vicious strikes without a single look at the state of their own country. One single election had been held in that time, and Ingsoc had won landslide majorities in both the Senate and the Congress - with that, the other two parties were left defeated. The new political idea pleased the people, and promised a better future; no-one tried to resist whatever constitutional changes they made (because there was no-one left who could resist).
All that had been at most three years. Alfred had begun taking reins in the last two years; the moment he'd managed to stand, he'd made sure to return to the new government and make his position clear. It had taken less time than he'd imagined, after showing what he would and could do to those who opposed him. He had to admit that the first taste of true, absolute power had been exquisite - and perhaps in the back of his mind, Alfred understood why a nation rarely had power for themselves. It was intoxicating, addictive, and a nation was nigh unstoppable if they held their power correctly. Alfred is sure to hold his absolutely undeniably in his hands – and he's made sure that none of the so-called Revolutionaries in his country, supporters of the ideology, would ever question him. Those who did, he had to get rid of. If he has to share the world with Ivan the so be it, but he wants to keep power at whatever the cost.
But to do that, he needed a completely renewed system and country. The system? He could spread Ingsoc very easily and manipulate the ideology to fit his will in distant territories, while back at home a simple over-informative society would settle. Keep the people happy, fed, entertained, and they won't complain. And country? After he had cleansed the country of the heretics (his former leaders, Senators and Congressmen who remained and protested, leaders of Ingsoc who were getting too, ambitious for Alfred's preference- and had had to get rid of), the job was easy - the country was its own ruler.
"Never question me. Ever. It's really the last thing you'll ever do." The laugh is cold, empty, heartless. "I am in control, I am in power, not you, never you. Not a pitiful, pathetic human like you." The man's neck snaps with such a soft, satisfying crack, and when the body is released it slumps to the floor, a broken ragdoll. "As good as dead from the day they're born," Alfred snarls.
Goldstein – Goldstein had been one of the early supporters, and the first leader of the ideology. Sadly for him, Alfred has no place in his country for someone who questions, second-guesses, defies him. Alfred doesn't care to know what had become of the man after Alfred had attempted to hunt him down, but there were a few propaganda videos that had made it into the new Oceanian territory - Alfred thinks them useful. He kept them for later use, for after he's sorted everything else.
Everything else being the rest of the world. He wants territory. He needs it, too, to exert said power. Nothing could stop him, so why should he stop himself? Arthur was unheard of since the beginning of the war (and Alfred would be lying if he said he had been trying to keep Arthur… unavailable for as long as possible), Matthew was putting up a valiant last stance in the north, and he was sure María would fold sometime. And from there? The rest of the Americas, the remaining British colonies.
He's interrupted from his train of thought by a soldier who clears his throat. Alfred looks up from his stale cup of coffee, the empty cafeteria echoing the cough loudly.
"General Jones, I was asked by Colonel-"
"I don't really care who asked you what, what's the matter?" Alfred is perhaps a bit more irritable than he should be, but today's been a hell of a day – besides finding out that Matthew is trying guerrilla tactics, which he really doesn't have time for, he has a feeling this day would only get worse from here.
"San Francisco's been struck, again. Bad news is we lost a lot of men there, good news is whatever was left of the resistance had their makeshift headquarters there. They're dead too, so that's a lot of problems solved."
Alfred weighs the pros and cons in his mind, and nods. "Thank you, tell your Colonel to get as much intel as he can on how many men we lost, and," he looks back at the Lieutenant in confusion, "what exactly struck there?"
"Uhm,... It was a nuclear missile, but... er... for the moment, we're suspecting it might be Chinese. Aerial photos from surveillance planes are being analysed, but they're not the best."
Alfred's eyebrows shoot up. "Tell me when you find anything. And I mean anything, if you can distinguish a single fly on that missile, I need to know."
"Yes, sir," the Lieutenant says, saluting before dashing off.
Alfred's day has now turned from bad to worse, and the only comfort he has for himself is the fact that he can feel the resistance waning. He tries to make his way to his quarters, but he's held up again.
"General - there's... there's someone to see you."
Alfred inhales slowly, exhaling slower. "Who is it?"
"Says his name's Yao Wa-"
"For fuck's sake, where is he?" Alfred hisses, and before he receives an answer he's pushing his way to his office because he knows the Chinese man is just proud enough to waltz in there and demand to be led to Alfred's office. Sure enough, when he bursts into his office with the doors slamming against the walls, Yao is there, lounging in the chair by his desk and reading a report that had been laying there. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Yao looks at him in amusement, placing the papers back on the desk. "I thought I should pay you a visit. It has been quite long enough since I last saw you. I wanted to see how you were faring." Yao looks at Alfred's dirtied state with an arched eyebrow. "Which, judging from your attire, isn't so good."
Alfred's lips thin, and he resists the urge to snarl. "I'm doing just fine, thanks. What do you want?"
"To see that your ego isn't getting the better of you."
Alfred snorts. "And what's your conclusion?"
"It seems it is worse than ever. If you think you can do this on your own, it has to be."
"And you're wrong. I'm just waiting for the right moment. Right now, Mattie thinks he's doing good and then 's pouring his efforts into offense. I'm defending and sorting my government out. It's a matter of weeks."
"If you say so. Ivan thinks the same I do."
"He does? Tell him what I told you. I want to see both of your surprise when you realise you underestimated me."
MAY 1960 – TORONTO, OCCUPIED CANADIAN TERRITORIES
Alfred's staring down the barrel of the rifle at Matthew's hateful face. Matthew's kneeling in the dirt, held there by two of Alfred's soldiers, his clothes tattered and bloodied and caked with mud and dirt. Alfred's not in a much better state, his lip still bleeding from where Matthew had thrown a punch into Alfred's face in their scuffle. But Alfred's still standing.
Alfred shakes his head in disbelief. "What did you think was gonna happen?" He asks, and Matthew realises he doesn't recognise the man behind the gun.
"I thought I might get to see my brother some time," Matthew snarls, but his tone isn't quite as vicious as he'd have wanted it. He doesn't know who this stranger is, but he's dangerous, armed, and completely insane by the look of it. Matthew wants to say it's still Alfred, but it's a distorted version of the happy-go-lucky man he used to know. Or maybe that man never really was, and this distortion had just been waiting to get out.
"You're seeing me right now, I'm standin' right here," Alfred says, and he lowers his weapon so that it's still pointing at Matthew, but he's no longer aiming with it.
"Alfred, what the hell's going on with you? What happened between '41 and now?"
He swings the butt of the rifle straight into the side of Matthew's head striking the temple, and Matthew sags to the ground, unconscious from the blow.
"Take him to base, I've got a lot of work to do on him."
NOVEMBER 1960 – STRASBOURG, OCCUPIED FRANCE
"France has been annexed by Eurasia," Ivan states, and there's not even a flicker of interest or recognition in Francis' eyes. Ivan isn't too surprised, if he's honest with himself. Francis merely digs his pockets, before looking out of the window as he pulls his hand out – curled around a pack of cigarettes.
"I assume the next step is you ask me whether I will come quietly or by force, yes?" Francis asks as he places a cigarette between his lips and lights it. He's still not looking at Ivan.
"I assume that is simply unnecessary. It is regrettable that Alfred, such a brilliant mind, had to endure such power and fear in a history so short. Perhaps it was that that drove him off the edge," Ivan says absent-mindedly. "However, Yao and I both know that some nations deserve respect. We've had enough of a long run together to know that you have no other options," Ivan finishes. Now, Francis is looking at him, with both hatred and disinterest.
"The easier and quicker you make this for me, the more greatful I will be," he states blandly with a tired voice. "I have no doubts as to how this whole mess will end, and I want no part in it. Une des consolations les plus réelles de la vieillesse est l'espoir d'une mort soudaine et paisible."
Ivan frowns. "You are not old, nor are you mortal." Yet, in any case, Ivan adds mentally. Naturally, he had every intention of changing things.
Francis looks at him in amusement. "Is that what you believe? Perhaps you are younger than I thought. Yao would more likely understand – but I doubt he's ever been keen on contemplating his own mortality. No nation is eternal, Ivan, and one would do very well to realise and accept their death in advance." Francis looks curiously at Ivan, with his lip curling almost as if into a smile. "I believe you have things to do and a political system to impose upon France, yes?"
"Atlantic Territory, yes."
There's a frown on Francis' face now, and Ivan suspects it's distaste. "Such a very dull and unoriginal name. Is that the new fashion, then? Not that I have much choice, but it lacks class. Pity."
Ivan thinks that perhaps he is witnessing the death of the old world, of the old way, of everything that had been history until now. After all, it would all be gone so very soon. And it's as if Francis senses this thought, as he smiles sadly at Ivan and stands up from his chair by the window.
"I have done everything I had in me, in my power to resist it. Now, it will merely hurt my people. I would have enjoyed seeing Paris whole one last time," he glances pointedly at Ivan, whose eyebrow arches in question, "but where there is nothing left of my heartland, there is nothing left of me."
Ivan doesn't really see the point in prolonging this encounter more than necessary, and so steps away from his place in front of the door to give Francis the hint to leave – with a last longing look out of the window. Francis does, and Ivan follows him out the door. He fleetingly wonders what Francis had hoped to see through the window.
MARCH 1961 – MEXICO CITY, OCCUPIED MEXICAN TERRITORY
"Matthew, take the left side, I want you flanking her and cutting her off - make sure she doesn't run that side!" Alfred shouts, and with a few orders Matthew takes his men in the designated direction. Alfred's team wait for a minute before busting the door of the makeshift military base. They flow inside, and Alfred follows not far behind. He takes in the sight of the place, the maps scattered on desks and tables and spilt coffee and broken pens and a destroyed radio, and-
There's a slam and a crash, and suddenly the whole team bursts into action. There's the sound of another door bursting open, gunfire, screaming, orders, and Alfred's team is in immediate action towards the source of the sound. Alfred stays behind, knowing it's easier when there aren't too many people shooting and screaming. He waits and examines a map that's been scribbled on multiple times, red lines like wounds slashing across it. After a moment, the shouting comes closer, and then it's in the main room. Alfred looks up, and he sees María's fiery eyes and snarling lips spouting obscenities specifically at Alfred when she wasn't wincing from the bullet wound in her arm and leg.
She looks around and hisses at the people holding her and surrounding her, and it looks like she hasn't even noticed that Matthew's standing there, clad in a proud black and red uniform.
"Déjame ir, déjame ir! Hijos de puta, que voy a aplastar-"
"Hiya, María, long time no see," Alfred interrupts her monologue with a grin. He catches Matthew's eyes and nods to his left side. Matthew moves through the other soldiers and finally comes to stand next to Alfred. "Good job, been lookin' for her a while," he tells Matthew in hushed tones.
"No problem," Matthew responds, his eyes hollow and sporting a greyish shade they didn't used to have before. Perhaps twelve months in solitary isolation with continual torture had really done the trick. Although Alfred had the fair idea that Matthew would have relapses - mind control was not quick and simple, especially with nations. He'd have to watch the development with Matthew to know what to expect with other territories. Starting with María.
"You - Díos!" María cries out when she realises it's really Matthew standing next Alfred, his weapon hanging loosely in his hand and not pointed at the American. Alfred watches with pleasure as her hopes crash to the ground.
"I'd rather you speak English, María, 'cause that's what you're gonna be speaking on a daily basis soon enough. How's this for a reunion though?" Alfred asks, his grin spreading.
"You're sick!" María shouts, her voice like tearing paper, scratchy and loud but in the end so very weak. "You're out of your mind - oh God what did you do to him?!" Her cries are becoming louder, and she looks like she's tearing up. Alfred never knew she cared for his brother so deeply.
"I might be, I might not be, but that's just none of your business any more. I'm here to tell you officially that the Mexican Republic has been invaded and annexed by Oceanian armies. You can either surrender honourably, or we'll just have to take you by force." Alfred lets his eyes deliberately flit over to Matthew, subtle and short - but he knows that she's caught it from the look of horror she gives him.
"You - you bastard, how could you do that to your own flesh and blood, he's your brother-"
"And we're nations, we don't have families or relationships. We have alliances and enemies, and if I have to force you into an alliance then I will."
"You'll kill me before you get me to join," she snarls, some bite returning into her words. Alfred shakes his head and chuckles, before stepping closer to her and leaning down to whisper to her. His eyes are trained on Matthew who stands still and taut. Frozen.
"I'll be glad to." A smile splits across his face. "As many times as it takes."
JULY 1961 – TAIPEI CITY, OCCUPIED TAIWAN
Yao takes some pleasure in seeing the pitiful remnants of Taiwan whimpering in the mud.
The arrogance, the sheer disrespect she had dared show were all long gone, driven away by Eastasian troops.
That, Yao thinks, should be enough of a lesson for her not to attempt it again.
There was no place in the world for a resisting, counter-revolutionary, heretic pseudo-government populating an isolated island with no purpose other than pretending to hold a position in a new world. A new era with a trilateral world order, and endless chaos in between.
So really, Sīying had only the choice between an eternal war, or a blissful peace. Yao had made the choice for her.
She coughs, ragged and strained, mud clinging to her hair and torn uniform. She goes quiet again, and in a flash reaches for her weapon, just a metre away. But Yao is faster, and he aims his boot straight into her stomach. She lurches and curls up, laying on her back and gasping for her. There's ash and dirt on her face, and at that moment Yao really cannot see the beauty many nations had spoken of. The entire desolate landscape around the two of them, in fact, spoke against those descriptions of vivacious colours.
Now, he only saw the devastation left behind by his army and Ivan's helping hand (of course, Ivan would deny viciously any hint at helping Yao with his revolution. Such a claim was beyond absurd and unfit for a superstate).
"You dare defy me, as you lay trampled in the mud?" Yao sneered. "There is civilised defeat and honourable surrender, but what I see in front of me? Weakness. A childish, pathetic attempt at, what? Toppling or resisting me? Me, Eastasia?" His laugh is empty and rather reminiscent of the times of the great Empire. Of course, now, he had something far better and far more everlasting.
She has the audacity to laugh, but it is barely more than a poorly disguised cough. "Nothing about you is honourable any more, and surrender is not something I will submit to."
Yao smiles. "Amusingly enough, this is something Alfred had told me of. Entertain me, what would be the preferable alternative? Death?" At the darker look the girl - she's a girl, young, frail, ignorant fool - gives him, he grins. "Ah, indeed. Would you like me to remind you that, for now, you are the embodiment of a nation and, unless officially dissolved or completely obliterated, you cannot effectively die? Fittingly, torture is that much more useful with nations. When the physical body can no longer take it any more, it… pauses and regenerates. And the ministrations can be continued with no fear of interruptions or vain efforts, as long as necessary until the subject is ready to believe the ideas fed to them."
Her expression has gone from anger to unmasked horror.
Yao smiles. "Doesn't that sound like an enticing future for you?" He takes a step towards her, and suddenly she's scrambling away with her fingers and heels digging into the slippery ground. "I don't believe you have the choice any longer, seeing as there is no such thing as honour left within me. And the very thing I need to do is shape you into the exemplary subordinate. Of course, you - along with Kiku, naturally - will receive much more attention from me. Attempting a coup against my government, against me if I might remind you, is really the same as attempting to invade my country and enslave my people."
"I was fighting for the people-"
"Yet, the people wanted me. You may want to ponder on that as long as you can. My distrust, Sīyǐng, really is infamous for being virtually eternal. And sadly, the only way you and your territory could ever gain my trust again is once you are dead and your people and land are mine."
"I cannot die." Her eyes are ablaze, as is most of her island at this moment.
"Believe me, you will," Yao muses, and fires a shot into her head. He then calls over two of his men to transport her to their base facilities and from there they fly back to the Eastasian heartland.
Sīyǐng wakes only very much later, when she is already locked up in an underground cell. She can hear but not see Yao, the darkness almost impenetrable. His voice carries and echoes, and his laugh bounces hauntingly from the hollow stone walls.
"Let me out!" Is her immediate primary response. "You sick, twisted, swine, let me out of here! You cannot do this forever!"
She hears Yao's words stop and his boots are soon clacking against the tiles.
"I actually want to test that theory out. But first, there are a few things to be taken care of. First, your conditioning must be gotten underway, and then an example must be made of you. Publically, even. It would do no good to execute you and for people to invent crimes for you, when they can learn the reasons themselves, and learn from your mistakes."
"What the fuck do you-"
"So unbecoming of a lady of the Society. It really is such a shame that a pretty face like yours should be wasted with such a foul mind." Yao is almost repulsed by the face glaring at him, and he doesn't care to know whether the reason for his disgust is merely her ugly expression and his hatred or actually distasteful features. He chooses to ignore it, for compliments and threats go rather well together, one to disguise the other. "But the mind can always be remodelled to fit the needs of the public and the greater good. I believe we will have you an outstandingly perfect piece of the system soon enough."
"Never." She shakes her head, gripping the bars tightly. "Never!"
Yao seems amused, and beckons soldiers over again. "Actually, I'll make of you an example immediately." He glides away, and she is dragged out of the cell with force. Her screams and insults fall on deaf ears, and for a moment she thinks perhaps the soldiers are no men. She's suddenly dazed by the bright sunlight outside, and she shuts her eyes despite the fact she can't see where they direct her.
She hears the sounds first, a soft female voice over loudspeaker. "Abandon all posts and duties immediately. Termination of public enemy held in Main Place. Abandon all posts and duties immediately."
A large open space is the first thing she registered.
"Termination of public enemy…"
There's something tall and thin sticking up in the middle of the large, bright space. Dark, too.
"Abandon…"
It's made of wood. The wood is dark against the shining sunlight.
She realises with horror that she was walking to her own death. The wound at the side of her head has only barely healed, but she feels the ghost of the bullet driving into her brain and killing her.
And she imagines an endless cycle of this, and perhaps Yao is right and she reels at the thought of herself succumbing to the threats.
When she resists, she's held back with even more force than before, and she unceremoniously shoved against the wooden pole with her hands tied behind it. The soldiers then stand aside, and people have begun to gather in wonder around the scene unfolding in front of them. Another row of uniformed men, but not soldiers, enter her field of vision. Their simplistic silver badges with the Eastasian emblem proclaim "Society Guard" and she has no idea who they are. And suddenly, Yao's grinning face appears above her, with a wolfish irk that bodes nothing but fearsome and terrible feats. He turns to the people gathered, dozens, hundreds of them crammed into what seemed now like a small plaza.
"Before you," Yao proclaims, "stands a traitor, a heretic of thought. Charged and guilty of high treason, criminal intent, sabotage, attempting revolution, resisting the rightful government and multiple charges of murder, she is now put to justice before you all, as an example of what treacherous actions lead to. She is a criminal, and so she is punished!"
The public erupts, insults hurled at her from all sides as cheers praise the justice, the lawful end to a criminal. The row of men in front of her stand facing her, and in a blink she is faced with a row of gun barrels. Behind those, she recognises - to her disgust - the hollowed faces of Kiku, Hanh,
The order to fire sounds like a gunshot to her ears – but when the pain erupts, she's not sure if it weren't.
She slumps against the pole, and within barely more than five minutes no traces of the audience are left in the Main Place. The only testament to the events are the trails of crimson slashing across the grey cobblestones.
1961 – LONDON, AIRSTRIP ONE
London is so very different from what it had been some years ago. One of the first cities to be hit, radiation still had not exactly cleared up. But nevertheless, people desperate to return to their home city had resettled there, and some tentative attempts at shelters had settled here and there in the rubble. Alfred toes a piece of a building out of his way, and walks forward. He constantly has to avoid uneven pieces of stone or rubble that may give out under his foot, but generally finds it easy enough to make his way through.
"Where did you say he was?" Alfred asks no-one specifically.
"In a safehouse. I've been told he's pretty out of it, confused and afraid," María responds. A smirk spreads on her lips. "Whenever he's more up-to-date, he's very... determined to resist you, no matter the cost."
Alfred looks at her with amusement. "Does he know what state this place is in? Does he think he actually stands a chance in hell?" He turns back to face ahead of him, stepping over what looks like a charred body.
"I think it's more than that – perhaps he's delusioned, or just disconnected from the outside world," Matthew contributes. Alfred looks at him, and thinks the red and black uniform suits him well. It's not the already-standard Thoughtpolice uniform – it's a uniform of leadership, and Alfred's own military uniform and overcoat bear the same colours. Black with a blood-red lining.
Once he has to actually blend in a bit more, he'll simply settle with the Inner Party's overalls. But so far, he has no need for those, and appreciates a bit of theatrics. After all, this is the uniform of his very own army leadership. He might as well truly show Arthur who exactly is in control now.
"Well, is either of you going to lead the way? I have no idea where we're going, I was told one of you knew," Alfred inquires, and turns to them with an expectant look. "Your job is, after all, collecting information, no?"
"Yes, it is." Matthew steps ahead, and Alfred and María follow him. "It's less than two minutes, a few blocks away maybe."
Alfred looks at the destroyed surroundings. "A 'few blocks' is a rather... imprecise approximation," he mutters, but doesn't bother to actually make himself heard.
It's not long before they arrive at what seemed to have been a hospital, once upon a time, Matthew stops. Alfred frowns.
"María, go ahead and check the place. We'll be right behind." She walks off, and the moment Alfred is sure she's out of earshot, he grabs Matthew by the shoulder and slams him against the wall. He lets out a pained groan, wincing.
"What is it?" Alfred demands. "Why did you stop?"
"It's nothing, I swear, I just thought..." Matthew gasps, Alfred's upper arm coming to press against his chest, almost at his windpipe – a threat.
"Do not lie to me. What. Is. The matter?" Alfred demands more forcefully, pushing more strength towards the wall – towards Matthew.
"This is the hospital – hospital where I – I left – oh God, I left Arthur here, I promised him, I promised him not to fall–"
Alfred's scowl deepens, his anger flaring up. "You thought you could resist me? So what is now, then? Do I need to remind you who won? Who is it you answer to now? Who you obey?" Alfred snarls. "Do I?"
"No! No, you won, Alfred, you won – please – let me go, I swear-"
Alfred chuckles. "You swear, but you swear to God and you call me Alfred. When we fly back, I seem to have some unfinished business with you, don't I?"
Fear flashes in Matthew's eyes, and Alfred releases him. Matthew gasps, gripping onto the wall of the building.
"Move it," Alfred commands, and Matthew hurriedly stands upright, and with an unsure footing makes his way into the building.
The matter with Arthur is quickly sorted, his deluded shouts and screams ignored by every member of the team present – they'd sent a troop ahead in case there were escape attempts. All in all, the entire matter went by smoothly.
Alfred had flown into Occupied Britain that morning. He left Airstrip One once he had sorted a few things out with Arthur. Not all, but going by what he'd done with Matthew and María, solitary confinement for a few months should work miracles.
1963 - UNDEFINED LOCATION, DISPUTED TERRITORIES
"This is a rather intriguing ending, is it not?" Ivan grins, dangerous and almost feral, breaking the frail silence that had hung over the three superstates.
Alfred laughs, clipped and chilling. "I don't think it's an end." His eyes flicker up to look at Ivan - his cold, powerful eyes. He falls into a chair, with about as much care as before the wa; but there's more grace to the movement, a subtlety that must have come with his new form of government. His own government. Subtle, sweet, gentle, a preying tiger. "And to be honest, I think it was pretty predictable," he adds with a tilt of his head.
"Oh? So you saw this happening, did you?" The skepticism is clear in Yao's voice, but Alfred just smiles.
"Not this, exactly, but something pretty close to it. While I would have preferred it not to happen,..." He makes a vague gesture. "I mean, you," he points at Ivan, "were setting yourself up for world domination, you," he points at Yao, "have been trying to do that before I'd even had a glimpse of the world, and I, on the other hand, just happened to be at the right place, at the right time."
Yao scoffs. "With the right weapons."
"I believe that point applies to all of us," Ivan says, before pulling out a chair and sitting into it. "And I also believe we agree that the use of atomic weapons proved pointless, yes?"
"Can't argue, " Alfred stated, and Yao hums in agreement. "So, what now?" Alfred asks, propping his feet up on the table before balancing his chair on its two back legs. "What do we do now? I mean, no-one's gonna resist us, no-one's gonna do shit to us three - except us three. No-one has weapons, 'cept us, no-one has money, 'cept us, no-one has anything except us. What's the plan? We just get bored right out of our minds?"
The two eastern nations look at him in amusement, and Yao laughs. "I can't believe we end up with you as our equal in this. Britain, I would have understood - after all, he was an Empire right up until the very end - until you absorbed his country and imprisoned him in it. But such an impatient, young, -"
"Obnoxious, arrogant, brusque, irritating,..." Ivan adds.
"- scoundrel like you, who has no experience or idea of what the world really is like, what it can be like, is not fit to dominate a third of the world, in my humble opinion," Yao finishes.
Alfred's smile has nothing but grown with the insults thrown at him. "Aw, man, that's just cute." He chuckles, stretching even further in the chair, tilting even further back before bringing himself crashing back forward. He rises from the chair, and stuffs his hands into his pockets. "Is that what you guys think of me?" He looks at them both with apparent interest. "That I got here, into this room, just by sheer, stupid luck? That I thought it would be funny to press the buttons and see what happens? That my army just kinda did its thing and happened to conquer the largest empire in the world at this point? That I was lucky in how I managed to collapse every single established political institution in every single country I rule over?" Alfred smiles, his tone growing darker with every word. "Nah, wasn't luck." His grin turns to a grimace. "I might not have had a centuries-old plan, and it might have been lucky enough with how the wars just sorta came about - and I didn't have to start them. But I did watch how the both of you dealt with the other countries. I did see the interactions and the undertones. I did have a coupla spies here or there. I did study deeply the different economic, political and military climates in every country I was eyeing. A slow, planned but flexible takeover, none the wiser until I struck the final blow. I learnt from the best, in short, but then added my own twist to fit my purpose."
Ivan's eyebrow arches. "And what is that purpose?"
"You guys are old as all hell, but I'm not. You've kind of dissociated from your countries by this point, and you can rule it any way you want. Your countries have been through so much that you feel no pain any more. Revolutions, invasions, wars, you've seen it all and felt it all, and it doesn't affect you any more. But I'm still a pretty new country. My people still believe strongly in me. I'm just a bit more defined and close to the original idea of America that I can't. I need to know my people are safe and comfortable, and so I had to find a way to isolate mainland America from the rest of Oceania. So good-bye to a generalised government system that can be applied everywhere, and hello to a hierarchical decentralised society. My country is a place apart from the rest. Take that as you want." Alfred smiles again.
There's a silence, where Ivan and Yao contemplate what Alfred had just unveiled to them. They had assumed Alfred would have just followed the same pattern the rest of the world did - but apparently, he had felt the need to preserve his greed for wealth as well as power.
"So?" Alfred asks, bringing the both of them to focus once more. "What do we do now?"
Ivan shrugs. "What would you suggest? After all, you seem to have it very well planned."
Yao hides a laugh, though very unsuccessfully. Alfred doesn't even look at him.
"Well, I guess we could keep this going."
"This what?" Yao asks.
"The war. I know you two have a society based upon the poverty of your lowest class, and you need to have an excuse to preserve that. I have a bunch of war profiteers at home who'd be more than happy if the war drags on." He looks so pleased with himself, and smile in such an arrogant way that the two others have to wonder which one of them really is the most deranged.
Ivan looks incredulous. "That works with both Yao's and my system, people kept in the dark and blissfully unaware of the surrounding world, their minds focused on their patriotic duty. But if you have a system similar to or based on your old one - I assume that's the case?" Alfred nods. "How do you think to keep an authoritarian control over your people or your country? They're bound to rise up at some point." As has been seen too many times before.
Alfred seems to think for a moment. "It's like... Lemme think of an example..." He walks around back to the table, before his face lights up. "Okay, I got it!" He sits onto the table. "You know how I often start speaking randomly about everything and nothing at the same time, and it pisses everyone off?"
Ivan laughs. "I did not know you were conscious of it."
"Well, none of you listen to me if I go on long enough."
"Yes, five minutes is usually far more than enough."
"Imagine that, but constant. Everywhere. All the time. A constant stream of information, data, knowledge, but it's all pointless. You have news in between two adverts, tv-series to distract the mindless, everything commercialised, and it never stops. It's a constant droning, a background noise. You don't know what it would be like without it, but you're not conscious of the fact that it's there. So, you learn to block it out, no-one cares, and so whatever little information you could have gathered gets lost in the rest of the pointless information no-one listens to."
Alfred grins at the look the other two are giving him – they're almost impressed. "So, there's the illusion of being free, of having access to it all - but in reality, you know nothing, you care about nothing. I mean, sure, there's gonna be some who listen and care, but not enough of the people around them give a damn for them to be a huge danger. And whatever information they really get,... none of it matters. It's all useless. So, police swoops in because they're a threat to society and planning a coup or whatever and, who's gonna miss them?"
There's a momentary silence, and then Yao speaks up, his tone heavy with respect. "I must admit, I gave you less credit than I should have."
"People usually tend to do that," Alfred says confidently.
"Has anyone ever told you, you are very cocky?" Yao asks.
"I think I have reason to be," Alfred says with a grin. "After all, I – we own the world, right?"
Ivan laughs. "He does have a point." He shifts in his chair and looks out the window of the room, unto a land almost unrecognisable. "We own the world."
Notes on this AU's history and some literary analysis into Orwell's 1983 universe to support it:
All quotes are taken from 1984. Some notes are required here to show I didn't pull all of this out of a hat, and that it has some relation to 1984 canon. These are based on what was given by Goldstein's book and also political/social/economic developments around WWII with appropriate distortion to fit the AU. So, for that reason, certain assumptions had to be made:
- the novel, 1984, being actually set in 1984 in history;
- Goldstein's book containing fact and accurate historically relevant information for the 1984 universe (whether written by O'Brien or Goldstein irrelevant)
- Goldstein's book having been at least 5, if not 10, years old for having gained a such a notoriety among the people, and hence the information being slightly out-dated.
Off we go with the unnecessarily long explanations are references.
- Why did America not join after Pearl Harbor as it did in real history? Merely for the reason that, in this AU, the US feels very much more keen to enter the war due to a rising feeling of expanionism etc., and hence it would hsow Al's character better by showing his willingness to enter the war. Isolationism would have been far lesser then.
- The idea that American society differs from the rest of Oceania is based on the historical state of America before the war, and during the war (it is nigh impossible for a powerful country to undergo a complete change of from capitalism to socialism/communism), and stirringwind's (on tumblr) post about it. Their ideas were on-point and explains far better than I could the reasoning behind it.
- By 1984, "[Oceania, Eurasia and Eastasia] are permanently at war, and have been so for the past twenty-five years". Going by this, (remembering the possibility of the book being some years old) we can guess that the war between the three superstates started in the mid '50s. However, "Eastasia only emerged after another decade or so of confused fighting". So, we can guess that the war between Oceania and Eurasia would either have been just starting or have already started in the early '40s - so it may have been a direct continuation of WWII. Also, the book talks about the period of fascism in the '30s, and mentions the "final phase of capitalism, roughly between 1920 and 1940". Based on that, Eurasia and Oceania would have arisen in the last stages of WWII. That's the basis I'm going on.
- Ingsoc, Neo-Bolshevism and Death Worship are said to have arisen in the "middle years of the century", and contains a mention of a "revolutionary period of the 'fifties and 'sixties". So I'll take that at face value, and say that the whole tyrannical, dystopian Oceania would have arisen in about those decades. The transition from the USSR into Eurasia would probably have been much smoother, since there was already the whole totalitarian system set up. And it would fit, since Stalin died in 1953 - and thus a new leader could have brought anything, and we'll just imagine that this time it brought Ivan, tired of his bosses, looking for power for himself.
- Now, onto the whole "who invaded who and when". Oceania came in the 'forties, so it was relatively simple for me to build up on that. Imagine if America had become involved in the war very quickly after Britain begged for assistance, seeing an obvious opportunity for both economic growth and possible expansion, as a result of a far more obviously imperialistic foreign policy. By this point, they would have been doing a lot of research into nuclear warfare. Britain was in ruins already, what with the whole Blitz having bombed down the entire capital, and their debts, and everything else. In 1933, American GDP reached a low at $0.78 trillion dollars. However, once the war started to get going, American GDP reached $2.07 trillion in 1943, and defense spending tripled (all of this from thebalance dot com, "US GDP by Year"). To put it simply, American GDP rose by 270% in 10 years. So, America was in a strong place, while Britain lay in just about shatters. Now, while in our history, America swooped in and helped win the war and put Britain back on its feet, in this universe that won't work. Perhaps Britain would have been even more war-torn than it really was, and thus would have been an easy target for an aggressively expansionist America. Instead of Allied forces meeting in Germany, this time the USSR would have marched all the way to the Atlantic coast, while American troops would have focused on protection and takeover of the British Empire. Also, there probably would have been a whole issue between the two countries about how the USSR should leave Europe the heck alone, and thus we get our Cold War turned hot preeetty fast. This way, there would have been a hell of a lot of difference in nuclear development - the USSR would have gotten its hands on nuclear data from Germans, who had been so close to uncovering the nuclear bomb before 1945 (this happened in our reality). Then there might have been a different thing with the whole Eastern Asia - once America would have come into Australia to invade islands taken by Japan, China may have taken to attacking mainland Japan. This way, America would end up with Australia etc. and China would thus have conquered Japan.
- About the nuclear war that then followed: "atomic bombs arrived as early as the nineteen-forties, and were first used on a large scale about ten years later". So that's pretty self-explanatory. I imagine that with earlier involvement in the war and increased imperialist sentiment in America, the development of the nuclear weapon would have been accelerated - and thus, would have driven the Soviet program to speed up. The only thing is, I thought I should tie this tidbit of information in with the revolutions within Oceania - the large scale devastation that would have followed nuclear war would have given the perfect opportunity for a revolutionary political party such as Ingsoc to gain support from a people tired of the war and the loss and all, and thus would have relatively easily settled into power.
- About the structure and differences and history of societal developments within Oceania, 1945 onwards. Once America invaded the entire British Empire, I'd imagine a "central government" would have been placed to rule all of the new Oceania - mainly comprised of the former US government (note that it's "central" because of the whole thing about how none of the territories feel as if they have a central government, and how scattered authority in Oceania would be - this is kind of maybe a strategic masterpiece from the Americans, managing to keep tight control by keeping close watch on all scattered authorities). However, there most likely would have been territorial governments to take care of local affairs within each territory separately (Canada, Britain, Australia...). But by the point that Ingsoc comes along, you would have Alfred, tired of seeing the mess made by politics, who would have a bit of a different plan to his government's. I imagine he would have increasingly discredited his government among his people and suggested for other representatives to do the same in their territories, and then kind of founded/promoted Ingsoc - in the territories. Within America, he would have introduced it subtly into government as a modern, ultra-capitalist movement - tbh he might have introduced the popular idea that the movement doesn't really have a real name, or that Ingsoc stands for something like "Integrated National Government and SOCiety" or something along those lines (tbh I'm terrible at abbreviations and inventing meanings for them).
- Last but not least, special thanks to freedomeagles on tumblr for your awesome ideas and for taking the time to exchange ideas with me (the whole Taiwan bit happened only because of your idea). The idea with Taiwan being that because of the role of Taiwan in hosting the loyalist government in the Chinese Civil War, Yao would distrust Taiwan the most out of all his territories and hence his brutality.
So, brief chronological summary of the basis of my fics:
1939 - WWII starts.
1941 - America joins war by sending troops to Europe, Britain has been absolutely torn up by the Blitz. Japan still executes Pearl Harbor, only increasing the pro-war sentiment in America.
1942 - American troops basically overwhelm all other European forces, basically integrating the British army within theirs; the Soviet army marches West.
1944 - The US develops nuclear weapons. The USSR nuclear programme is further accelerated.
By 1945 - America has effectively almost completely absorbed the British Empire to defend it, the Soviet army (much to the displeasure of America) has absorbed Europe in its totality, war drags on in Northern Africa instead of mainland Europe. USSR/America increase threats against each other over the situation in Europe/Africa due to disagreements over territory partition. China invades Japan and territories of the Japanese Empire.
1946 - The Soviet Union develops functional nuclear weapons.
Early 1950's - Ingsoc starts to appear within the newly named Oceania, and Neo-Bolshevism comes to power in the USSR as Stalin dies. China and its new areas come to be known as Eastasia, and undergo heavy revolutions which will drag on for years.
Throughout 1950's - Nuclear threats escalate, Ingsoc begins to gain foothold within Oceania (exclud begins its collapse and Ingsoc gains momentum). Death Worship becomes prominent in Eastasia, the country begins to reorganise around a new political system.
Mid/Late 1950's - Eurasia and Oceania engage in nuclear warfare, destroying cities on equal grounding. This leads to discontent in Oceanian territories, and Ingsoc gains support - the nuclear war is the main cause for the Oceanian revolutions that put the Party in power in most areas. Eastasia develops nuclear weapons, and begins to settle, and joins into warfare to test weapons. Large scale devastation ensues.
Early 1960's - Nuclear warfare comes to an end, as all three parties agree mutually and unilaterally not to use atomic weapons for more than threats. Thorough devastation of the major Oceanian cities incite rebuilding, the entire society remodelling as Ingsoc settles its position (all areas, except that the concept of Ingsoc is much different in America than the rest of Oceania).
And from that point onwards all you really have is the 'reformatting' of the superstates, and their real beginning. Sorry if this was a bit messy and poorly explained, but I tried my best.
A/N to finish off: Whew... the research+planning took long, but writing took even longer. A full character development in one fic? I thought it would've been easier. I was listening to the Sherlock soundtrack when writing this. I also skipped all the slower songs, only keeping on the dramatic ones. Which explains the very dramatic mood I wrote this with (I hope/think?). I've been working on this for months and hope you enjoyed it!