I promised I wouldn't start this story until I finished 'This Is Justice.' Unfortunately I couldn't stop myself. READ ON FELLOW READERS. Ffff this is just a prologue and already have to set the rating to M. Fabulous. ._.; Anyway this is a middle part of the story, and then the back-story will be given leading up to this moment. Think of it as a teaser.
Alfred twisted on the ground, bile crawling up his throat as he forced himself to his feet. He staggered, but kept his balance amidst the chaos and wreckage that was once Washington D.C. Blue eyes flashed dangerously behind the cracked lenses of Texas.
"You came to finish me off yourself?" Alfred's voice was rough, pitching awkwardly as he stared at the other nation. The only other person who could possibly inflict this much damage in so little time. How had he been caught so off guard?
His thoughts were interrupted by the tap, tap, tapping of the pipe against asphalt. It would have been ominous, maybe even send other (lesser) nations running. As it was, Alfred couldn't muster up the energy to care.
"Нет."
A bark of laughter tore loose from Alfred's throat. His arms splayed wide, to take in all that remained of Washington D.C. Of his capital. "I'd say you're doing a bang up job."
Russia was as unresponsive as ever. He watched the American with a degree of interest. This was unexpected. The amount of spark that remained, the sheer determination that kept Alfred going was…Admirable. Or would have been under other circumstances.
Instead it made Ivan's teeth grind in frustration. America's beloved capital was reduced to rubble, his coasts were being directly attacked and yet he stood as tall as ever.
"You think you're above consequences Америка." Ivan's eyes narrowed to little more than slits as he stared at the disheveled nation. "You're no longer the world's Hero. No one sympathizes with you." His words were coated in a thick Russian accent, lips pulling up in a mockery of a smile.
"I wonder-How does it feel to be the villain you so despised?"
Something snapped inside of Alfred. In a flash he had his M1911 pistol out and fixed on Russia's chest. It was hard to focus, with Texas broken, but he managed.
"Wait, wait, wait a second." Alfred tilted his head and raised the gun so the sight was pointed at the Russian's head instead. "I forgot that you don't have a heart." His voice broke on the last word, betrayal and hurt shining clearly on his face.
Neither said anything for a long time, and finally Russia took a step forward, the end of that damn faucet pipe just barely dragging on the pavement.
"That's why I'm here."
Alfred stiffened. "Don't take another step you goddamned Commie. Didn't anyone ever tell you not to bring some old plumbing to a gun fight?" He was searching for control in the situation, but it was rapidly slipping from him...Even when he had the loaded gun in his hand.
"What's it like?" Ivan breathed the words. "D.C. was your heart, да?"
Another step.
"It still is you creepy giant, now get the fuck off of my land." The pistol was shaking ever so slightly now.
Silence between them again. Only gunshots and distant explosions anchored them both to the present. Then Russia edged closer to America with another long stride.
"There is nothing left. To push me away, to make me leave you bombed your own capital." Then his voice took on a sympathetic note, making Alfred's stomach flip. "I understand sacrifice Alfred. Only you and I can understand-"
"Don't call me that. We're not on first name terms." Alfred interrupted. His throat constricted as he thought about the measures he'd taken to ensure Russia would never hold D.C.
Russia smiled in a placating way.
It was only then that Alfred realized how close he'd gotten. "Get ba-" Ivan's wrist snapped up, the metal of his faucet striking that of Alfred's pistol and sending it flying aside. Then he was right there, close to Alfred and shoving him back far enough to where his back pressed against the ruined remains of the Washington Monument.
Alfred hissed as the metal of the pipe pressed roughly against his neck, unforgiving as it cut off any breath he might have taken.
That same smile was pasted on Ivan's face as he leaned heavily against Alfred. The American kicked and thrashed, managing to slam his fist into Ivan's nose and jam his knee up into his ribcage. Nothing seemed to faze Ivan, and if anything he pressed the length of the faucet harder against Alfred, just below the frantic bobbing of his adam's apple.
Blue eyes widened in panic, nails scratching and clawing at Russia's wrists.
"The pain can be taken away Америка." He spoke slowly, watching as Alfred drifted closer and closer to unconsciousness. At the last moment he pulled back, and America collapsed in an ungraceful heap.
He coughed abruptly, chest heaving as he took in a deep lungful of blessed air. With one hand he covered his bruised throat, using the other to support himself as he sat up.
Ivan was right there, kneeling down with the trails of his too long scarf pooling around them both. The faucet lay off to the side a little ways, and instead in his hands was a wicked looking knife.
Alfred's eyes narrowed, but most everything was blurry. Texas had fallen somewhere and only Russia's face-And the knife seemed clear to him. "What?" His voice was raspier than before and much softer thanks to Ivan's treatment.
"Thought it was your sister who had a thing with knives." If he was going to go down, he'd at least get in the last word. His insult was sort of moot thanks to the rattling cough that followed.
If possible Russia's smile widened. He held out the knife, handle facing Alfred.
America stiffened, uncertainty warring with the desire to grab the knife and gut the nation that was responsible for all this chaos, all this pain.
"Cut it out Альфред." Even though he knew that was his name, it somehow sounded different. Goosebumpbs jumped out all along his arms and neck.
Before he thought it through he spoke, "Cut what out?" He regretted the question as soon as it passed his lips.
Ivan's eyes lit up as he took Alfred's hand from his throat and wrapped the reluctant fingers around the handle. Carefully he guided the knife up, tip pressed in just over the left side of Alfred's chest.
"Washington D.C. Cut-it-out."
Alfred's hand trembled. He slowly looked around. Even through his blurred vision the skeletal remains of D.C. were apparent. The pressure got worse, as Russia's gloved hand pushed the blade harder against his chest.
The fire raging from where the White House once stood caught his attention.
War, true war had spilled onto his shores for the first time. A quiet hum forced his gaze back to Ivan. And it was all his fault.
Notes real quick.
Like I said this is just a prologue of what's to come. Now we'll all get to relive the moments leading up to this! YAY! Story will be based loosely on Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2. Not enough to be a crossover though, I'm taking a lot of different creative measures with the plot, and not using any of the characters from the game.
I never know what to put as the Genres for my stories. : | Also don't fret This Is Justice readers! I've got the next chapter for that story partially done. I just needed to get this out of my system before I imploded.