author's note. So, branching out of the Lord of the Flies fandom, what? xD Yes. I've been working on this ridiculously amazing crackfic you are about to read with my friend Syd (SydneytheSydster). She writes the odd-numbered chapters, while the prologue and even-numbered chapters are, sadly, my doing. The following is an example of why we should never be left alone.

disclaimer. Axis Powers: Hetalia is not mine. Also, I do not own communism, superheroes, or internet memes. This is a collaboration. Thank you. 8D

p r o l o g u e

"Damn it, how does Japan work these things... hello? Hello?" Static fades into a fuzzy shot of a red, white, and blue carpet. The camera spins dizzyingly for a few seconds before coming to rest pointed at the face of a bespectacled blonde man. "There. I think it's on now." He clears his throat, then pulls out a stack of index cards from the back pocket of his jeans and begins to speak.

"It has recently come to my attention that we are facing a new threat," the man says. "A threat the likes of which this world has never seen. A threat that will destroy everything we know and love unless someone can put a stop to it. And that threat is..."

Here he pauses for dramatic effect, leaning in close to the camera. His eyes are wide, his expression urgent.

"That commie bastard and his demon spawn!" he shouted, all pretense of professionalism gone. "They're everywhere, and they just keep coming! There are more of them every day! They're in ur countriez, plotting ur d00m! And you know the worst part? He's getting laid more than me!"

"Alfred, there are children watching this!" snaps a voice from off-camera.

"Sorry, Matt," the man sighs.

He shuffles through the index cards. Now that he's no longer yelling at the camera, the sound of Miley Cyrus' "Party in the U.S.A." can be heard in the background.

"Anyway... as the HERO, obviously I can't just let The Red Terror and his hellspawn take over the world! Duh! And that's where all you guys come in!" He beams, apparently talking to some imaginary audience. "Y'all are my kids, so naturally you can kick his kids' asses—"

"Alfred."

"Mattie, I'm trying to make a speech here. The point is, kids, you all are going to be awesome or my name isn't ALFRED FREEDOM JONES." The man strikes a heroic pose. "Well, I guess it's only fair that you know the whole story before you go be awesome and save the world. And I'm all for fairness, because I'm AMERICA. FUCK YEAH."

"Alfred!"

"I'm sorry, Mattie! Forget your mom, kids, he's real repressed and all. Though it turns out he's got a lot more France in him than you'd expect—"

"You did not just allude to our sex life on a tape for our children."

He laughs nervously. "Well, anyway!" he begins, ignoring the second blonde man who has appeared in the corner of the shot, glaring murderously and looking inexplicably pregnant. "It all started one day at the World Conference..."

Three young children sat on the living room floor, staring at the TV screen as the home movie played on. "Yes," America said to himself. "This just may work." He placed his hands on his hips in a victory pose. "Ah ha ha ha ha," he laughed triumphantly, pronouncing each "ha," "the commie bastard won't know what hit him!"

"ALFRED."

"Sorry, Matt. ...Ah ha ha ha."