Hi guys! This is my first post, and it's just a short one-shot songfic based on Good Man by Devour the Day. I was listening to it the other day, and it made me think of 2p America and made my sister think of 2p Germany so I threw both of them in there. I hope you like it!
I do not own rights to Hetalia or Good Man.
For the personifications of the countries of the world, they had life pretty much figured out. There wasn't much they couldn't get away with. They killed and plumaged and enslaved each other the same as their people. However, just because they were above the laws of humanity didn't mean they didn't have their own set of rules. In fact, there was one major law that they clung to above all else: Never put your desires before that of your people. Because if you did, you succeeded in tearing yourself away from your purpose in the world, and would be doomed to a special form of hell. An eternity trapped in your sins since you died as your land did. Every country heeded this warning with the utmost caution. However, two fairly young countries were going to learn the hard way the details of this transformation.
America stared at his bloodied hands in horror. He didn't mean to. He just lost control for a second. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. However, it did. He killed a man. A mere human, one of his own citizens in fact. He fell to his knees clutching his stomach at the burning sensation that started to consume his body. He had never felt this sort of pain before, and he suddenly remembered England telling him about the law that all nations were governed by.
"It was an accident." He pleaded to whatever force was doing this. "I didn't want to do it. I lost control. It's not fair! I can't take this constant criticism on my fucking government!"
He gasped in surprise. His voice didn't sound like him anymore. More pain washed over him as he collapsed face first into the cool concrete. He knew eventually someone would see him and his mess. They would call the authorities. Someone would find him. However, he didn't know what they were going to find. He was scared and tears began to leak from his blurring eyes.
"I want to be a good man. I want to see God. I want to be faithful, but I know that I'm not." He wept pitifully before blacking out.
Meanwhile, miles across the Atlantic Ocean, a personification found himself in a similar state. He leaned himself against the wall of his home clutching tightly to the object he stole earlier that day. Germany had heard about the personification law from his brother, and he had always done well about upholding it to the best of his abilities. However, this had become too much for his strong mind to handle.
He looked down at the Nazi flag in his hand without an ounce of regret. He may have done some horrid things in his past, but he felt confident almost every country could say the same. This was a symbol of his life at one point, and the way that protester was destroying it…calling for his dissolution because of a small chunk of his vast history. He gave a weak smirk. No, he didn't regret punching the man and stealing what was rightly his. He grunted with the new wave of crashing pain bravely holding back tears to mourn the end of his life in this body. He didn't know what was going to happen, and that was the thought that drove him the craziest.
"I want to be a good man. I want to do right. I don't want to be a criminal for the rest of my life." He grit before bracing himself from greatest pain he's ever felt.
His body felt like it was being pulled apart slowly, molecule by molecule. He would have screamed if he had any control over any of his muscles. As it was he could only sit there and allow it to happen. Allow the worst pain he's ever felt course through him. He wished he could pass out, but he was already too far in the process to not see it through. He started to realize he shouldn't be so stubborn. Cowards at least lived after all.
If Germany had any control on his body, he would have jumped. Those weren't really his thoughts…were they? It was like his mind had performed a complete one eighty on him. It hurt just as much as his body. Probably because he took everything too seriously. He needed to learn how to chill out every once in a while…Holy Furrah, what was happening to him?
Slowly, painfully slowly, the pain began to subside. In what felt like a matter of hours, Germany was back to normal in the same position he had been when the process started. He blinked uncertainly. Was that it? Carefully, he stood up rubbing a hand through his hair. He paused. His hair was shaggier than before. He shook his head. He just went through a very painful experience. He would have been surprised if his hair hadn't gotten messed up. He moved to smooth it back before pausing. What was really the point? He wasn't the military man he used to be, why try to keep up appearances?
Germany cried out clutching his head. What was going on? It was like two completely different people were battling for dominance in his head. Shakily he towed himself to his bathroom. It had been a long day to say the least. He just needed to clear his head with a little water and go to bed. Maybe grab a beer. Yeah, a beer sounded marvelous at the moment. So much so he almost halted in his progress to the bathroom, but albeit the slight headache, he continued on.
He turned on the light and stepped over towards the sink letting the basin fill with cool water. Grabbing a handful he splashed his face relishing in the rejuvenating liquid against his feverous skin. He sighed reaching for the nearest towel to pat himself dry when he was done. That's when he got his first good look at himself in the mirror. His mouth dropped open as he leaned in closer for a better look.
First and foremost the thing that immediately caught his attention was his eyes. They were no longer ice blue, but instead a curious lavender. His eyes then moved up as he touched his hair again. He was right earlier when he thought it was shaggier. Even his bed head was not the unkempt mop that now adorned his head. His fingers then moved to trace the scar under his left eye. He remembered getting it back in World War II. However, it was not as noticeable as it was now. Part of him was horrified as he continued to stare at these new changes. Another part of him was admiring himself liking the change for the better.
In fact, his thoughts instantly began to change from how did it come to this to how could he use this to his advantage. Surely, he would be able to pick up a few ladies with his new found charms. Lord only knows it's been so long since he's gotten someone in his bed…and good God what was he thinking? It all became too much for him. The duel of his thoughts, the changes to his body, he sunk instantly to his knees turning his view up to the ceiling.
"Everything that I've thought before has brought me back down on my knees. And now I'm crying out to you, Lord. It's getting harder and harder to see if there's good left in me. Is there any good left in me?"
America walked down the street with his hands shoved in his pockets, a deep set frown adorning his usually smiling face. That wasn't the only thing different though. He had woken up earlier that day to an entirely new person. His once wheat golden hair was a muddy brunette with a touch of red. His body was a deeper tan than he ever remembered having, and most disturbing his eyes had changed from sky blue to blood red. As if to remind him of the damage he had done.
He grit his teeth in anger. This was so stupid. He killed a guy and because of it he had to undergo some sort of cosmic makeover? He rolled his eyes. Fuck the universe. The only good thing about this was he no longer had to wear those stupid fucking glasses. America paused in confusion. He loved those glasses. He thought it made him look like Clark Kent. He groaned clutching his head at the predictable headache. He looked up at the overcast sky. He was doomed to hell on earth, huh? Was that because he was losing what little of himself he had left?
"Is there any good left in me?" He whispered desperately.
Ignoring the fearful looks of the people passing by he wailed up to the clouds hoping beyond hope there was a way to fix what he was.
"I want to be a good man! Is there any good left in me?!"
"America?"
The transformed nation instantly recognized that English accent and turned towards the speaker hopefully. However, he deflated upon seeing it wasn't his blonde caretaker. This man had strawberry blonde hair, bright blue eyes with weird pink swirls, freckles adorning his entire body, and was dressed in bright colors. He kinda pissed America off with how innocent he looked.
"America?" The man spoke again softly. "Is that really you?"
America took a step away from him nervously before gritting his teeth and narrowing his eyes.
"Alright Pinky, how the fuck do you know me?"
Rather than answer him, the smaller man gave a cry of joy and threw his arms around America's neck.
"It is you. I've been waiting for this day poppet."
America ripped himself away from the other man glaring at him as a small shiver of fear traveled down his spine.
"Okay, you're creepy, and I don't know you. So fuck off limey!"
Rather than get upset or scared like America thought, he merely shook his head chuckling under his breath.
"We'll have to do something about your swearing, but there's no reason to be alarmed poppet. It's me, England."
America raised an eyebrow at this. This guy couldn't be England. England was blonde and grumpy. However, the more America studied the man before him, the more similarities he could see. They were the same height, same size, same facial structure, and there was just something about him that seemed familiar to America. Fighting off the urge to laugh at England, America threw his arms around him.
"England! Dude, you don't know how happy I am to see you! All of the sudden there was this pain, and I passed out, and I woke up like this!" America wailed.
"There, there poppet. Still have some of your old self in you I see." England murmured as he patted America's back.
America pulled back enough to look England in the eye as the tears fell.
"England, please. Help me fix it. I want to be a good man. I want to be saved. I want to be a free man, but I feel like a slave."
England gave him a small sympathetic smile as he pushed some of America's bangs out of his eyes like he did when America was little.
"Oh poppet. I'm sorry to say, there isn't any way to go back."
America backed away wide eyed like a deer sensing danger. "N-No, that can't be true. I just saw you last week so I know you're change must be recent too. Come on Iggy, use your magic, and fix this!"
England watched him with big pitying eyes that seemed to burn America. Who did that little shit think he was? He didn't need anyone's damn pity. However, the other part of him felt hopeless and lost watching the man who raised him stare at him like that.
"America, I've been like this since the American Revolution." He admitted quietly, almost painfully.
America felt as if the ground had shifted from beneath him. That couldn't be right. What about everything he had been through with the real England? The War of 1812, World War I and II, the parties, the Halloween pranks. That had been his England, not this one. What in the hell was going on?
America clutched his heart as he dropped to his knees, and he began to hyperventilate. England worriedly ran over to his side placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"America? Poppet? Are you okay?"
America turned his eyes to the sky angrily again. "And now I'm crying out to you, Lord. It's getting harder and harder to see if there's good left in me. Is there any good left in me?"
England patted his shoulder trying to be reassuring. "Come, I need to show you something."
Germany lit up what would be his fifth cigarette in the last hour as he stared out on the glory of his capital from where he leaned against what was left of the Berlin wall. After his freak out over what had happened to him, he decided he needed something to numb the pain. He got as drunk as he could stand and was now trying to sober with a smoke. It was kind of funny how he used to hate smoking before, but now he couldn't seem to stop. He sighed as he pulled the stick away from him to stare at it. The rebounding thoughts still continued. One minute he was perfectly fine wasting his life away, and the next he would start to feel guilty.
"I want to be a good man. Is there any good left?" He mumbled before sucking in another dose of nicotine.
"So here-a you are."
Germany looked up to see Italy stalking towards him. Only, it wasn't the Italy he thought he knew. This man had strong violet eyes, and an arrogant grin that he could never picture on his Italy even in his worst nightmares. He was about to demand who the imposter was until understanding dawned on him. Italy changed just like he had. He smirked, closing his eyes to savor his last moments of peace.
"So you too." He grunted.
"You-a figured it out that-a fast?" Italy pouted stopping and putting his hands on his hips.
"You didn't exactly change that much." Germany pointed out.
His eyes flew open when he felt steel press against his throat. Italy was right there in his face holding the knife as his cold eyes swirled with suppressed anger.
"Say that again, and we'll-a see how long I can-a keep you dead for."
Germany felt a trickle of sweat drip down the side of his face. Never mind, this Italy was like night and day compared to his counterpart.
"My bad." Germany grunted in surrender.
"That's a-better." Italy sniffed putting his knife away.
The Italian sat down beside him stealing his cigarette, and staring out into space. Germany glared before grabbing another out of the slowly dwindling pack deciding it was better not to irate the testy nation further.
"So when did you change?" Germany questioned.
"During my Empire years. It was-a great time in my life." Italy smirked sadistically.
Germany blinked in surprise before shaking his head. "Nein. I just saw you this week, and you were your usual annoying self."
Italy suddenly let out a strong, slightly maniacal laugh.
"You-a don't know yet, do you?" He chuckled.
"Know what?" Germany returned guarded.
Italy didn't say anything else but got up and turned to Germany with the expectation that he would follow. Left with little choice, the blonde reluctantly got up as well. What could the darker version of his friend possibly have to show him. I want to be a good man. Is there any good left in me?
"Where would you-a be if you didn't change?" Italy purred with a smirk.
"I would be with mein bruder in our training room." Germany answered effortlessly.
Italy frowned, but said nothing more as he continued on his way. After a while Germany found himself exactly where he told Italy he would be. However, he had none of his usual discipline towards working out. It just seemed exhausting after everything he had been through.
"Look in the window." Italy ordered.
Germany hated having the little shit tell him what to do, but complied nonetheless. He instantly recognized Prussia going through their usual routine, and he felt a small stab of guilt until he saw the person with him.
"Mein Gott. What is this?" He breathed fearfully.
"Who the fuck is that imposter?!" America screamed seeing an exact replica of who he used to be leaving McDonald's.
"It's not an imposter. That's your 1p." England explained with a small laugh.
"1p?" America repeated confused.
"Well that's what we call them anyways since that's what we were like at first. Then we became like how we are now, or 2ps if you will."
"But…but…" America stated shaking his head in denial. "I want to be a good man. Is there any good left?"
"Come now Poppet, let's not get upset about this." England suggested cheerily as he patted America's back. "You will never be the person you were before. This is the new you."
America backed away from him fearfully. No, he didn't want this. He didn't want to be a different person. How did that even work? Before he even realized what was happening, he was running away. Away from England, away from his so-called 1p, away from what his life was now.
"Pull me from the darkness. Lift me back into the light." He cried not caring if anyone saw his tears.
"Fill this empty vessel. Fill this hole I have inside." Germany seethed clutching his head.
He felt like he was losing what was left of the old him even more now that he had seen evidence of his replacement. However, a small part of him still felt like the old Germany. Did that mean he could go back? Reverse the process and cause the duplicate to take his place.
"Am I worth forgiveness? I can't make myself believe...
"FUCK!" America screamed when he finally found a place completely devoid of life.
He could feel himself changing more. He was getting closer to that darker version. He didn't want to lose to that guy, but there he was lurking at the back of his mind ready to take control.
"Show me that you're listening and tear this devil out of me!"
Unfortunately for America and Germany, they received no answers to their questions. No miracles granted on request. Slowly, the consciousness they had been accustomed to, merely faded away until only a single echo remained of who they once were.
"I wondered when you were going to show your ugly mug." Canada sneered after watching America enter his first world meeting.
"You're calling me ugly when you fucking dress like that Canadia?" America sneered.
Canada moved to punch him, and America caught his arm before breaking it in a satisfying crunch. I want to be a good man. Is there any good left in me?
Germany stepped aside from the blood bath that was America and Canada's fight.
"You're a-late." Italy accused smugly.
Germany shrugged. "So what?"
Italy rolled his eyes, and Germany took his place next to him pulling out a cigarette to light up.
"I don't want you blowing that in my face." Japan sneered in disgust.
"I don't really give a fuck." Germany responded taking extra care to make sure it wafted towards the smaller male. I want to be a good man.
"America, that's no way to behave around your brother." England scolded breaking the two apart.
"He fucking started it." The brunette growled.
"Not another word young man. We have a meeting to get to, and I would prefer if you didn't use that foul language."
"Fuck it. I don't really give a shit what you'd prefer or really what happens in here. I'm out."
America smirked in satisfaction as England was left watching him with a stunned expression after deciding to play hooky. I want to be a good man. Is there good left in me?
"That actually sounds like a good idea. America! Wait up!" Germany ordered jumping up to walk out with him.
"Are you-a kidding me right-a now Germany?" Italy demanded looking extremely pissed.
Germany just gave him an innocent shrug before marching out with the American. I want to be a good man. Is there any good left in me?
"I need to find a fucking bar. It's been a crazy couple of weeks." America complained.
Germany smirked. "I couldn't agree more."
Sorry if the fast transitions got confusing, but I wanted to give off the appearance that Germany and America were filling the same things at that moment despite being hundreds of miles apart. For whatever reason the idea of 2p America and 2p Germany being friends came really easy to me. I also had the idea to make a fanfic story based off this songfic...so please leave me a review and tell me what your thought and whether or not it's worth lengthening!