A/N: This could be everything from horror to romance to humor...even hurt/comfort if you want. I only put romance though. ENJOY THE ANTI-HERO! Also I don't own Friday the Thriteenth or Hetalia.
America.
The land of the free and the home of the brave.
Alfred F. Jones, hero to all.
Most of the time.
___
It was a full moon out.
Why were there always full moons on nights like these?
It was little cliché...but that made things half the fun.
Friday the thirteenth. A full moon. Perfect.
Blood dripped from an old, rusty machete, being carried by an equally as bloody gloved hand.
A young jock wearing a letterman jacket stumbled in the darkness, trying to get away from the dark figure holding the machete as fast as he could.
But for some reason he couldn't see straight and the ground seemed to come up from below him.
After grasping at a tree next to him for support he looked behind him to see the figure a few feet away.
The boy let out a scream and ran, doing his best to avoid the rocks, roots and other obstacles the covered the forest floor.
The dark figure grunted and sped up as well.
Why, why did they always insist on running? Hadn't these kids seen the movies?! The kid getting chased never makes it our alive.
It was like...movie law!
But the boy was stubborn, just like the rest had been.
___
Arthur frowned and pulled up his sleeve to check the time on his wrist watch.
8:23 pm.
"Dammit, that idiot! I told him to be here at 7:30!"
And by that idiot he meant Alfred, of course.
"Oh, don't worry, mon ami, I'm sure he'll be here soon, oui?" Francis said with a relaxed smile as he lounged on the couch lazily, a glass of wine in one hand.
"No! He should have been here almost an hour ago! He's completely lost it by now!" Arthur growled in frustration and bit the tip of this thumb.
Francis looked confused.
"What do you mean he's lost it? Why are you so worried?"
Arthur didn't reply, he just kept pacing his living room in silence.
Of course he was worried. Arthur had every right in the world to be worried!
If only that toad, Francis, knew.
It all started when that horrible movie came out! Damn the day it was released into theatres! Arthur would have given anything to go back in time and destroy it compleatly.
Friday the Thirteenth.
Why it was Friday the Thirteenth and not Halloween or Nightmare on Elm Street, Arthur didn't know.
All he knew was that every year, on this very night Alfred went a little...crazy and only Arthur knew about this strange occurrence.
Alfred was the one who told him in the first place.
He had come to the British nation almost in tears, and (in an unusual act of trust) confided in his ex-guardian about his little problem.
"Alright," Arthur announced, "I'm going to call him."
Pulling out his mobile, Arthur dialed the number by memory.
____
Okay, now things were getting irritating.
The figure stopped and watched the boy as he ran aimlessly through the thick forest before bringing the machete over his shoulder.
Aiming in the boys direction, the figure flung the old weapon as hard as he could.
It hit the boy straight in the back, causing the kid to scream and fall on his stomach.
"Yes!" The figure yelled triumphantly and hurried over to the fallen boy.
Pulling the chipped hockey mask over his face, the figure nudged the kid with his foot. He responded with a groan of pain.
"Ya' see what happens when you run?" The man with the mask asked and pulled the machete out of the boys back.
"Get up." The man demanded.
The boy didn't move.
"C'mon!" He yelled and pushed the kid over with the tip of his boot.
The poor boy rolled over and looked up at his pursuers face weakly.
He had blonde hair and blue eyes that were framed with thin rimmed glasses.
"Wha-what the hell do you want from me?!" The boy demanded in a ragged voice, tired from the adrenaline and fear that consumed him.
The blonde man thought this over for a moment, "You know, I have no idea." He admitted, "It's nothing personal, it's just that the big, no brained jocks are always the first to go, is all."
"Y-You're sick, man!" The boy screamed.
"Hey! Just on this night!" The figure (whom we can assume is the dear America England is so keen on locating) argued and stabbed the kids foot with the machete.
Screams echoed through the forest.
"What's your name?" Alfred asked.
The boy said nothing.
"What's your name." He asked again and twisted the machete that was still imbedded in the boys foot roughly.
The boy let out another scream.
"T-Tony!" He yelled.
"Aww! See, now its gonna be even worse when I kill ya'! I have a friend named Tony!" Alfred whined and pulled the machete back out of Tony's foot.
Tony took this moment to burst up from the ground and try to escape his fate.
He looked awfully ridiculous though, with his foot injured and all, like he was trying to hop at the same time.
Alfred groaned and ran after him.
He easily caught up with him but the running from earlier had worn him out a bit.
Pushing Tony to the ground, Alfred leaned over and breathed heavily between his legs.
"Man, I'm so o-outta shape!" He panted.
Suddenly his phone went off in his pocket.
I want your lovin and I want your revenge
You and me could write a bad romance
The ring tone seemed to bounce of the trees in the dead silent forest.
Alfred sighed and glared at the kid on the ground who was still bleeding profusely from the back and the foot.
"You never heard that, got it?" He stated and took a look at the caller ID.
"Aw, shit!" He cursed and flipped his phone open quickly.
"Ah! Arthur!" He panted, still a but out of breath.
The boy could hear someone yelling on the other end of the phone.
"I totally miss you so much! Hey come over some time tonight!"
More yelling on the opposite end
"What? No! I'm just...a little busy right now!"
More yelling.
"No, not THAT kinda busy!...Oh! You mean the thirteenth thing and all...yeah."
It was quieter on the opposite end now.
"What do you mean, 'I'll hate myself in the morning'? I'm having a blast!...yes I do mean it...you'll never what if I don't stop?…Oh c'mon! That's not fair!...But you-" Alfred stopped mid sentence and looked at Tony was still cowering on the ground, he'd tried to push himself further from the blonde nation as quietly as he could.
Alfred tried to talk quieter so their conversation could be a bit more private.
"But you look so sexy when you do it! Please!...fine! I'll stop...But I don't wanna drive all the way to your place...fine...yeah, see you in a bit."
Alfred sighed and flipped his phone shut. "Alright Tony, you'll get to see another day, so long as you don't bleed to death before someone finds you out here."
Alfred threw his mask at the boy and dropped the machete as well.
"And you can thank my Britannian Angel for that." He mumbled and stalked off.
Tony watched him leave before being consumed by darkness.
____
Arthur watched Alfred walk up to his doorstep with a furious scowl across his face.
The latter stopped and rubbed his head sheepishly.
"I-I know I was suppose to come straight here tonight and all but it was so crazy! There was this party right? And this group of kids were heading up to the forest to get it on and stuff, then it just took over me! Drunk kids having sex, funny guy dies first that sorta-"
"Alfred!" Arthur yelled.
Alfred stopped and looked up at Arthur with a guilt ridden face.
"Alfred, you know I don't like this. Not at all. It scares me. That's why I ask you to just...come straight here every time!" Arthur sighed and look the ground, grinding his teeth together.
It was amazing, really. Alfred was so afriad of horror movies, but on this night every year he became one of the creepiest physcos in the movies that Alfred was so terrified of.
Alfred rushed up to the other nation and embraced him tightly.
"I'm so sorry Arty. I know how creepy it is. And tomorrow morning I'm going to wake up and feel like killing myself, it's just that...I can't help it!"
Arthur nodded knowingly and lead Alfred pass over the threshold of his door.
They stood in the living room for a while, just holding each other before Arthur pulled back to get a look at Alfred.
"Well, at least you're not completely covered in blood this time." He sighed.
Alfred nodded grimly.
"What are you standing around for! Go get a shower and change into something comfortable!" Arthur demanded and pushed Alfred to the bathroom.
"And don't even try getting out the window in there, I've added a lock on the outside as well!"
"Thanks Arthur." Alfred said sincerely.
Arthur nodded and walked back to his room, getting his night clothes on as quickly as possible.
_
Minutes later Arthur heard the water stop in the bathroom.
He waited.
Then Alfred was there, dressed in his boxers and a very large shirt.
Arthur watched him cautiously as he walked to the bed the British nation sat on.
That terrifying gleam in his eye seemed to be dulling, thank goodness.
But that lead to the nightmares that haunted America after this night, of course.
Arthur opened his arms, inviting the other nation to join him. "Come here then."
Alfred didn't need to be told twice.
He all but flung himself into Arthur's waiting chest.
Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred's torso and leaned them both back onto the bed.
"Get some sleep Alfred." Arthur sighed.
"I will...now that you're around." Alfred mumbled tiredly.
It was quiet for a moment.
"Hey Alfred...?"
"Mmhmm?"
"I wonder what Ivan would do...if he found out about your little episodes on this night."
Alfred froze at the thought.
Arthur laughed and stroked his lovers hair gently.
"I'm really starting to hate that movie Arthur..."
Oh yes. Once a year our Hero Alfred F. Jones becomes what he hates most. A VILLAIN. An anti-hero determined to kill off oblivious, hormonal and drunk teenagers in the most cliche' horror movie fashions. Of course he regrets it all terribly in the morning...but on this one night it doesn't matter. .
A/N: Hey ya'll, please don't kill me! So maybe you don't think torturing little teenagers is very humorous, but you gotta admit it's kinda funny. I HAD to make this fic! I found this really cool picture of America dressed up as Jason from Friday the Thirteenth and he was all "Oh noes! My love is callin'!" And he was all outta breath and talking to his lover (which I assumed was England) and he looked like he just got finished killing some one off and stuff and it was so cool cause he was all worried and stuff while he was talking to his lover and anyway, I hope you liked this once a year anti-hero America...
subliminal message of the day: REVIEWREVIEWREVIEWREVIEW.