America let out a huge, lazy yawn as he stretched his arms high above his head.
He rubbed the sleep gunk out of his eyes, and reached for his glasses.
Blinking like an owl as the light streamed in through his bedroom curtains, America scratched his back, and shuffled into the bathroom.
There, he turned on the faucet and took his Superman toothbrush out of the vanity, and squeezed some of the red-white-and blue (how convenient) toothpaste onto the bristles.
"A, B, C, D, E, F…."
He sang, his mouth full of toothbrush.
Spitting into the sink, America took the towel and wiped his mouth, and then looked up at his reflection in the mirror.
The first thing he noticed was the dark-skinned man behind him, gun pointed at his head.
America gasped, his eyes widening as he stared at the mirror.
He had just enough time to jump around, wielding his Superman toothbrush like a sword.
BANG.
One shot, and the young man lay on the cold tile floor, blood streaming down the side of his face.
The dark man smiled, and promptly kicked his enemy hard in the stomach, just for good measure.
And America lay there, unconscious and bleeding, as the man raced out of his house, just as fast as when he came.
America didn't wake for a long time.