Got a new obsession again, so say ello to my ScotEng obsession x3 I own nothing and just as a quick filler;

Iain (Allistor Kirkland)- Scotland

Patrick (Kirkland) - Northern Ireland

Lisa Kirkland - Ireland

Dylan Kirkland- Wales

Arthur Kirkland - England

"These chains will wrap around you."

Heavy metal chains slithered tightly around his arms, holding his small frame down to the dusty ground.

"They will always remind you of what you are."

The small figure trapped in the lonely room stayed quiet as he closed his toxic green eyes shut, scared to open them incase if he would see something there, hiding in the dark moist room.

"For honor, for legacy."

Curling up, the small boy tried to place his arms that were covered by chains over his fiery red hair, as if trying to protect himself.

"And mostly, for your family."

The small boy tried to shuffle away from the wall, the wall with the haunting talking mirror. Where something laid hidden within the mirror.

"You will become..."

Crying, the small boy begged the voice to leave him alone and to let him be. He didn't want this, he just wanted a normal life.

"Me."

The night was dim as a young man shot right out from his bed. His toxic eyes frantic and his crimson hair in a mess. Sweat trickled from his body as his eyes swept his small bedroom. Bottles of whiskey littered the table top and shelves and pieces of paper litter littered the ground.

Rubbing his eyes, he stretched his body like a cat would do before standing up. The sun had barely risen and it was already time for him to go on patrol. But before he left his room, he couldn't help but to glance at his arms.

That dream he had, it just seemed so vivid, as if it happened before, that it happened to him? The young boy looked exactly like him as well, but the mirror was too foggy to see the figure though. All he knew was that the figure was a male, that had a strangely robotic-demonic voice.

"Iain! Time to eat!" Yelled out a voice that snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Reit, jist give a minute!" He yelled back as he took a swing of a bottle of whiskey before placing it back down and exiting his room.

The world changed so drastically ten years ago.

Fires were burning brightly, deadly in the night sky. The seas were filled to the brim by the beach with boats and floats. Screams of evacuate the premise and orders to get to France, the closest safe zone littered the air.

The disease was spreading so quickly, so rapidly. It destroyed families, lives, hearts, bodies and minds. The people didn't know what to call it, it was like a monster without a body.

Already it swept in and took away half of the population in England, including the last member of the royal family, most of the people in London and was flying rapidly towards Scotland.

The disease.

The results of the disease was something akin to creatures from the undead. They were mindless, they had no idea where they were going, what they were doing. Thick layers of green puke like sweat covered their bodies. Their eyes rotting yellow and their posture tensed straight.

But they couldn't feel anything. Not any more. They were once humans like us, they could go on picnics and feel the fresh grass between their toes and smell the spring breeze scent in the air.

Nothing, they aren't like that anymore. All they can do now is to inflict the disease to other people and to break the lives that people created within the United Kingdom. Perhaps they would try spread out more. Spreading towards France or Ireland.

But right now, people were running around the beach crazed and a bit dazed, all looking for salvation.

He was known as Allistor Kirkland before the evacuation of the United Kingdom. He was known for being the bossy, lazy, violent big brother of the family before the evacuation. He was known as the one who would steal all the sweets and hide them in his room before the evacuation. But now he's known as Iain. Just Iain, one of the lead fighters within the United Kingdom.

It was that night that he found all his siblings crying, holding onto each other desperately. It was that night that his brothers cried for their mother who was still at their home and not on the evacuation boat with them. It was that night that Allistor told his siblings to stay on the boat no matter what and that he'd be back soon. It was that night that he went back to his house where his mother was, only to find out that she had the disease. It was that night that his mother tried to kill him and turn him into one of them.

But... It was that night that he fought back. It was that night that he shoved a kitchen knife through his mother's heart and ripped it back out. It was that night that his mother was freed from the disease, though it was that night that he saw one of his little brothers, Patrick, staring at him from the door way with large watering eyes and mouth wide open in horror.

It was that night that he ignored the panicking in his heart and grabbed Patrick by his hand. It was that night that he ran back to the beach where the boats were as fast as he could. It was that night his breath hitched as he looked around. Only to see the empty sea and distant floats and boats in the distance. It was that night that he prayed that his other siblings were alright.

"Right, so Iain I got master idea yet! Lets git us som bombs an' blow dem al' up!" Exclaimed Patrick at the dining table while shoving his breakfast into his mouth while talking. "We wud be be able ter club dem al' up!" He continued his brilliant idea, not even noticing that his brother wasn't even paying attention to him.

"Gab when ye finish chewin'." Muttered Iain though he knew that his brother ignored him.

And Iain was right, it was just like any other day throughout the past ten years. The two lived in the HQ of Project Knight. The two would wake up every morning at 6am, have breakfast at 6:15 and then be out the door by 6:50 and out killing off the last of the people infected by the disease or bringing them into the HQ for the scientists before coming back to HQ for their rest at 10pm.

But honestly, Patrick's talking was irritating the young Scot so much. It was a wonder how Iain's spoon wasn't snapped in half, or better yet, used as a weapon to throw at a certain Irish man before him.

"Eat yer bludy food sae we can go," growled out Iain in a dangerous tone as Patrick looked up at him for 5 seconds before looking down at his soggy cereal.

Growling, Iain stood up and walked over behind Patrick and placed his hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "Ye've got ten seconds," he breathed into Patrick's ear as his grip tightened on his brother's shoulder.

It felt like his shoulder was going to snap, and so with teary eyes, Patrick ate his breakfast in exactly nine seconds.

"Let's hurry, we got a meetin' wi' one of th' bosses." Said Iain as the two left the apartment.

The static echoed in the background as Patrick and Iain sat infront of the screen. An image of their boss looked right at them. His beige white hair looked slightly darker because of the dim lighting, but his eyes were still bright violet.

"... and so you'll both be going to France, da," he finished his speech with a smile.

"But we cannae go! There's still too many them roamin' aroond. We baith ken that they're gettin' smarter as well. They managed tae get tae irelain an' now they're tryin' tae get tae france." Growled out Iain as Patrick merely stayed quiet, acting different than his usual bubbly self.

"But that's why your going to France! Da, to make sure that they won't go in there! You'll kill them before they even set foot on the ground," beamed the Russian boss.

"We will nae go." Stated Iain as the Russian began laughing in a strange dark manner. It just seemed like at that moment that the world got colder.

"You will."