Rain began to pour intensely over the wet and bloody mud grounds of the battlefield. The sound of the musket and rifle shootings and the yelling of the soldiers roared over the surroundings, firing their bullets to one another. The smell of gunpowder reeked all over the air that was once smelt fresh and pure. Hundreds of bullets speedily flew both of the opposite directions. Some became victims to the sudden pierced feeling of that small metal object into their bodies while the others were lucky to miss them.
Lying on the ground, lifeless corpses seeped out their blood onto the field, that same native and fertile soil of America they sworn to protect for themselves for the American people while the opposing force tried to oppress this sudden yearning of freedom from those darn blue-coats.
Orders were shouted everywhere; the two armies began to charged at each other, stabbing their muskets into their enemies. The battle began nothing but a blur of red and blue coats collided to one another and the painful groaning of the unlucky ones.
As the battle continued to rage on, the American blue-coats had the upper-hand. They were outnumbering compare to the diminished numbers of British red-coats. Stubborn as they were, the British persisted to keep on fighting; even it would mean to obliterate themselves as well as those American soldiers.
"Hold your fire!" A young yet matured voice rang over the battleground. Both of the sides stood in silence as they froze in position. The soldiers who were in the frontline position turned their heads over at the approaching figure from the mass group of soldiers in the back position. He finally came out from the crowd, revealing his face in which every person in the battlefield knew who he was.
Alfred F. Jones gazed over at the red-coats side; his blue-orb eyes conveyed no hint of hesitation or regrets. His youthful face was no longer in existence; nothing but small scratches and dirty stained mud with the expression of seriousness written all over.
"Arthur R. Kirkland, representative of the English nation! I advise you to halt this fight and just give up! You should know already that your army can no longer battle anymore. Acknowledge America as its own nation and we shall avoid this senseless slaughtering."
The words echoed through the silent grounds. Abruptly, few of the red-coats shifted in their positions from their group, making a clear pathway whoever was the man walked past through them. The same man finally got up to the front, probably just a few 10 meters away from where Alfred was standing.
"Alfred F. Jones, representing the thirteen colonies of America, I shall repeat these words of the last time: I shall not fall out and give myself into signing an agreement on your recognition of independence!" England's voice toned with rage as he looked fiercely at his once called 'brother' he was fighting right now.
America heaved a sigh as he rubbed his hand against his face in desperation. Over two-hundred thousand lives in total were lost due this war and he wasn't willing to lose another innocent life. Something clicked into his mind as he dropped his hand to his side, his eyes locked onto Arthur's.
"England. We really don't need any more of this senseless fighting. Both of men are too wearily to go on," America spoke in a negotiation speech form in hopes to make sense with the British. "Why don't we just get this over with?" He pleaded that England would listen and agree with him.
However, America was surprised when he heard a sinister chuckle coming out from what he would be his soon former guardian. His eyes widened fearfully as he looked at England.
But something about England was not quite right. He could tell by looking at those darkened-green eyes that he somehow looked different….
No. More like he changed into something.
"Well, well, well America. I'm glad to hear those words coming out from you." A shing sound was heard as England coming out from you."unsheathed his Light Cavalry Saber sword while he approached towards America. "I'm willing to agree with your offer. I rather not want to waste any of my men today. However," his eyes glowered threateningly in a darkest way, "both you and I, whoever fell to the ground and beg for mercy will determine this outcome of this war!" His words hollered in fury and annoyance as he at last cameally range from America. this fight, whoever fell to the ground and beg for mercy will determine this outcome of this war!" in a 5 meter range away from America.
"Britannia." That's what America could whisper as he pulled out his Bunker Hill sword, ready for his one-on-one fight with England…. No, Britannia.
Author's Note: DRAAAAAMAAAA~
Again, I'm sorry for not updating any two of my unfinished stories. :/ I'm either not motivated on finishing them up or busy with my classes. xD;; But yeah, I should put shame on myself really. If I had the time to write this, I should be finishing at least one of the 2 stories! D: -slaps self-
But anyway, "America Darkest Shadow" will not be the name of this title. It is not an interesting and powerful enough title for this. This title will be one of the longest stories I'll ever written so I'll won't able to update anymore till around end of April. Because I know it's extremely long. :/ Possibly more than a 10 chapter story (or 20 but I'm hope I'm not exaggerating my estimates.)
This story will be mainly about WWII. This section is just a prologue about American Revolution and the next chapter will be the same, with the war results, the Treaty of Paris etc. Later, we'll move shortly to WWI when America enters unexpectedly at the end of the war and then enter WWII.
Minor characters (and probably OCs) will make some appearances and possible diary entries from America. This is just a quick summary on what you guys will expect from me. ^^
It will have angst/dark/violence/sinister atmosphere in. I hope I can make this story interesting enough with these dark elements. ._. If not, I need to read horror stories/fanfics just to keep my inspiration alive. D: I don't normally write these kind of things in stories (except in poems).