Ch. 1—Press Start
"Kikuuuuuu . . . aren't you finished yet?" Alfred whined. "I'm getting bored." He'd given up twirling the pen in his hand with his index finger and thumb and was now balancing it on his top lip like a mustache. "When can we play that new game you made?"
Japan didn't even look away from the two screens in front of him. "That I am making, Alfred-kun," he corrected. "It hasn't even been Beta-tested yet." His fingers continued to rapidly type away at the keyboard. "I'm almost finished, but you must be patient. Software code doesn't write itself." He clicked the mouse a few times and then pointed briefly at a pile of games. "If you're bored, you could play one of those."
Alfred glanced at the titles—Dead Space, Silent Hill, Catherine, and Amnesia: Dark Descent—and shuddered. "N-n-no thanks. I've already gotten bored of all of these games," he lied.
"You probably just don't want to play them because you won't be able to sleep at night," Arthur said, glancing up from his book and taking a sip of his tea.
"Shut up, Arthur," Alfred snapped. Dammit, how did he know? He glanced over at Canada. Did Matt complain that after we played each game, he had to stay with me every night for a week until I fell asleep?
Matthew noticed the look, jumped, and shook his head as if he knew the unspoken question.
"A hero like me wouldn't be scared of those kinds of games," Alfred said finally. "It's just that they were too easy to beat and the monsters were cute, not scary."
"I still don't know why you invited me here," Arthur said, crossing his arms.
"Duh. We needed four players for the video game, and you just happened to be at Matt's when I came to get him," Alfred said. "I would rather have had Gilbert play with us instead."
"Please I need you all to be patient and quiet," Kiku said without looking at the other nations. "I'm almost finished, but I need to concentrate."
Alfred turned to Canada. "Hey Matt," he said quietly, "Maybe we could play some Halo: Reach while we wait?"
Matthew shrugged. "I suppose."
"Actually, I wonder if you could help me out, Alfred-kun," Kiku said. "I need to test out the character creation unit for the game." He pointed over to a small room the size of a shower that was off to the side of his game studio. "Would you step in there, please?"
"I guess," Alfred said, removing his bomber jacket and gun holster. He then walked into the tiny room. He turned around, shut the clear plastic door, and looked at the others. "What's a 'character creation unit' anyway?" he asked, his voice coming loud and clear through the speaker system in the unit.
"It's a new idea I had," Japan said. "The computer scans the player and creates a character in the game that looks and acts exactly like him or her." He smiled. "I think it will help the player to feel as if he or she were actually in the game."
"Sweet! Go for it Kiku," Alfred said. "But don't be surprised if your wimpy computer can't handle this much awesome." Ignore your claustrophobia, he told himself. Pretend it's the same as the shower.
Japan typed in a few commands and hit the enter key. The computer whirred. A camera-looking device shined a bright light, scanning the contents of the small room from the top to the bottom. The light was so bright that Alfred had to close his eyes and put his hands up to shield against it.
When he opened his eyes again, he tried his best not to hang his mouth open in shock. He was in a room that wasn't much bigger than a racquetball court. In fact, it looked very much like one, same height, shape, and color. Did I pass out? Am I dreaming now? he wondered.
"Alfred-kun! Can you hear me?" Kiku asked above him.
Alfred looked up and saw an image of his friend, Matthew, and Arthur so clearly he swore that it was like looking at a HD-TV, but there was no screen that he could see. "Yeah," he replied. "Where am I?"
Kiku furrowed his brow, which shocked Alfred because the Asian nation rarely showed that strong of an emotion. "I'm sorry, Alfred-kun," he said. "I can't explain how it happened but somehow the system pulled you into the game."
Alfred laughed. "That's impossible. Nice practical joke, guys."
"No it's true, Alfred," Matthew said, quietly. "We all saw it happen. Your body disintegrated just like the characters in Star Trek, and then we saw your body reconstruct itself inside the game."
Alfred let out another laugh, but this time he didn't think what they were saying was humorous at all. "Guys, this prank isn't funny. Cut it out."
"It's not a joke, Alfred," Arthur said.
"He's right, Alfred-kun," Kiku stated, furiously typing away at the keyboard. "I can't figure out why you're actually in the game, but it's the only thing that can explain how your DNA sequences suddenly showed up where the code for the character should have appeared."
"Well, if you guys aren't joking around, then get me out of here," Alfred said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Kiku furrowed his brow, typed on the keyboard, and then frowned. "I-I-I can't, Alfred-kun. The program isn't letting me reverse the process." He squinted at one of the screens. "This doesn't make sense."
"What? What?" Alfred didn't want to admit it, but he was starting to get nervous, and Japan wasn't helping.
"Well, I would never have believed it if I didn't see it happening right in front of me," Kiku said, making eye-contact with Alfred. "But the code is starting to write itself. It looks like a second player is about to appear."
"What?!"
Kiku looked from side-to-side as if he was looking at two screens as opposed to Alfred's one. He typed something and then looked up. His eyes moved rapidly from side-to-side as if he was reading something. "The game has created some dialog instructions that I didn't enter," he said. "It says you have to fight and beat the other player if you want to end the game."
Alfred blinked. "Well, I guess since it's only a game, it won't hurt me, right?" He scratched his head. "So how am I supposed to beat him?"
None of the nations in the screen answered. All three—Kiku, Arthur, and Matthew—gasped and stared wide-eyed, looking past where Alfred was standing.
"You either have to kill me or make me surrender," someone said from behind him.
A chill ran down Alfred's spine. This voice . . .
As he turned to look at the person behind him, he saw a confirmation of what he had heard: the owner of the voice looked like him, but also not like him. The young man had brunette hair instead of blond, and instead of wearing glasses like Texas, a pair of sunglasses were perched on the top of his head. His skin was slightly tanned, and his eyes looked identical to Gilbert's scarlet eyes. Unlike Alfred who was wearing a Captain America T-shirt, he was wearing a plain white T-shirt. Finally, in his black-gloved hands was a bat that had nails hammered into it that jutted out of it at different angles.
He smiled, and Alfred, involuntarily and uncharacteristically, shivered.
"Shall we dance, pretty boy?" the other Alfred said, twirling the bat around as if it was a cheerleader's baton and then resting the part without nails on his shoulder. "I can already tell kicking your ass will be a piece of cake. Tell you what: I'm feeling generous. You make the first move."
Alfred took a step backwards and glanced at the bat; it was stained with dried blood and showed signs of repair from other fights.
The other Alfred narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong, Princess?"
"Don't call me that," Alfred snapped.
The other young man smirked and then brought a hand to his chest. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Alfred," he said in a sarcastic tone.
Alfred gaped at him.
"That's right; I know your name," the other Alfred said, placing a hand on his hip. "It's mine too, 'cept I usually go by 'Al'. Now are you gonna make the first move or what?"
"You have that bat," Alfred stated, holding up his hands. "I don't have any weapons. You're not fighting fair."
Al let out a laugh that sounded more like a scoff and sent him a crooked smile. "Who said anything about this being a fair fight?" He lowered the bat and took another step toward Alfred.
Alfred took a step backward. "Wait—"
Without any hesitation, Al dashed forward, heading straight for him.
Damn. He's just as fast as I am, Alfred cursed silently as he jumped out of the other man's way.
"Too slow!" Al sang out as he swung the bat at Alfred, clipping him in his back.
"Uffaw!" Alfred coughed out as his body went flying into the wall and he crashed onto the floor. Ouch! That actually hurt . . . Shit! This isn't a game . . . it's real!
"Alfred-kun, are you all right?" Kiku called.
Alfred lifted himself off the floor and coughed again. His ribs ached. I don't think they're broken, maybe just bruised or cracked. "I think so," he said to Kiku.
Al inspected his bat. "Whaaat? I didn't draw any blood?" He looked at Alfred and smiled. "Well, looks like I'll just have to try harder." He ran toward Alfred again.
"Don't let him kill you," Kiku stated.
Alfred jumped backward to avoid a swing from Al. "What? Why?"
Kiku typed into his keyboard. "As far as I can tell, this game exists in its own space. It's almost as if it is a parallel world. In other words, I don't think it has any connection to our dimension, our world."
Alfred's heart thudded in his chest. He knew what Kiku was implying. If I'm killed in the real world, I know that I'll revive because I'm connected to my people and my land . . . but if this is a totally different world, then that means I'm not connect—
"Dammit, your Kiku is sharp," Al said, interrupting Alfred's thoughts. He spat on the floor, swung the bat around and caught the smooth bottom half of it with his other hand, propping it behind his neck as if it was a harmless stick. He hooked both wrists around the bat to hold it in place and then leaned his head against it. "I didn't think he'd figure it out so quickly."
Alfred stared at the other America. "You mean, he's right about us being disconnected from our people and land?"
Al shrugged. "It's all science-y stuff, but that sounds like what was explained to me." He lifted the bat from his shoulders and grinned. "Doesn't matter that you found out. It only makes it more interesting by raising the stakes, right?" He took a step toward Alfred. "What d'ya say we test out your Kiku's theory, 'kay?" He rushed at Alfred, his grin widening as he did. When he got close enough, he launched himself into the air up in an effort to bring the bat down on Alfred like an ax.
Alfred dodged the bat and then sped to the other side of the room. The bat crunched into the floor with a sound similar to porcelain being smashed into a thousand pieces. I can tell from that last blow that this guy is just as strong as I am. He might actually be able to kill me.
Without even missing a beat, Al pulled the bat out of the broken floor, turned and sprinted toward him, his eyes glowing as if fire was burning in them.
Alfred did his best to stay ahead of him, dodging each swing the other nation made. "Kiku, get me out of here!" he called out.
"I'm trying, Alfred-kun," Kiku said.
"Try harder!" Arthur shouted at Japan.
"It's impossible to stop the program once a player has entered the 'game'," a voice said from the other side of the room, "and the game doesn't end until 'player one' or 'player two' loses." The nations in the screen and Alfred looked up to see another screen pop up on the opposite wall and another Japan appear in it, his eyes the same red color as Al's. He smiled and propped his chin on the top of his relaxed fist as he leaned forward.
"Kiks, I thought you wanted to stay hidden," Al said, stopping and turning to face the other screen.
The other Kiku shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "I didn't want anyone to waste everyone's time by trying to 'cheat' a way out of the game."
Alfred used the distraction the other Kiku created to his advantage. He swung a right hook into Al's face and sent him flying. The bat slipped out of his hand, clattering onto the grayish-white floor.
"I was going to say, 'Look out', but I guess I'm too late," the other Kiku said in a bored tone.
"Heh heh . . . ha haha-haha-ha!" Al crawled over to his bat and grabbed it, and then picked himself up off the floor. He noticed some blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth and licked it off his lip. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about! It's no fun unless you draw blood, huh, Alfred? Heh heh. You aren't the pansy I thought you were." He let out another stream of laughter as he rubbed his jaw; his face was already reddening where Alfred had made contact.
Alfred stared, dumbfounded. This guy is insane.
"I was going to finish you off quickly, but now I think I'll keep you. I'm gonna take you home with me and play with you a little longer there," Al said with a laugh.
"You can't do that," the other Kiku said. "Finish him off here. This is the only place currently stable enough for both of you to exist."
Al glanced sideways at the screen. "Quit being a party-pooper, Kiks," he mumbled as he lowered his bat and moved toward Alfred again.
Alfred tried to run in the opposite direction without taking his eyes off his enemy, just as Kiku had trained him so many times, but suddenly found himself running into the wall. He managed to dodge the first swing of Al's bat, but Al quickly swung it back at Alfred, hitting him in the head.
Alfred saw stars and fell to the ground. He groaned but managed to prop himself up on his knees. A warm trickle started flowing down his forehead. Dizzy and dazed, Alfred wiped it away, thinking it was sweat. Wait, he thought. Something's wrong: sweat isn't this sticky. He glanced at his hand and his stomach flip-flopped; his palm and fingers were covered in blood. Shit! I've got to get away from him before he kills me.
He no sooner had thought that when Al loomed over him, his bat raised above his head and a wicked smile on his face. "Bye-bye, pretty boy."
"Use your ninja training!" Matthew shouted louder than Alfred had ever heard him yell.
Realizing what his brother was telling him, Alfred swept his opponent's legs with the leg closest to Al. Al fell to the floor, dropping his bat and cursing loudly. Thinking quickly, Alfred grabbed the bat and used it to slug the other America in the stomach and then smack him in the head.
Aching everywhere, Alfred started taking deep breaths to help with the pain and then used the bat to help himself stand. He looked at where the other nation lay on the floor, unconscious. This feels so wrong. Not heroic at all.
He tossed the bat aside and walked over to his side of the room. "Kiku, why am I still here? Didn't I just win?" He looked up at the screen just in time to see a look of horror cross Japan's face. His face got hot in reaction to his friend's expression. Does he think I'm a monster now?
"Look out Alfred!" Kiku cried.
"He's not dead, you git!" Arthur shouted, slamming into Alfred and knocking him to the floor just in time to miss a swing from Al who had somehow succeeded in quickly recovering his weapon.
"Ouch, man. Did you have to slam into me that hard? My ribs might be cracked, you know," Alfred said. He stopped complaining when he realized Arthur was crumpled on top of him, not in the screen above him. He stared at his friend."Wait a minute: What are you doing here?"
"Didn't you say you wanted to play the game as a team? I had Kiku send me in," Arthur said, sitting up and rubbing his arm. "Bloody hell, what are you made of? Tackling you was like running at full-speed into a side of beef." He reached in his pocket and handed Alfred something heavy and cold. "You forgot to bring this with you into the game."
"This isn't a game, Arthur!" Alfred said, not looking at what he had been given.
"Oh, but it is," Al said, swinging his bat into Arthur and sending him flying across the room. Blood splattered against the white wall, and Arthur landed face-down on the floor. He groaned and seemed to be unable move from where he had landed.
Al smiled at the splash of red against the white. "Heh. Nice! Your friend bleeds easier than you do, Alfred. I like playing with him."
"You bastard. Your fight is with me!" Alfred screamed, tossing aside the object that Arthur had given him and lunging at the other man.
Al easily dodged him and clipped him with the bat as Alfred passed by him. More blood splattered as the nails made contact with the back of Alfred's head. "And yet, I'm able to handle both of you just fine," Al said to him.
Al turned to where Arthur had fallen. "I'm gonna finish off your Artie first," he told Alfred, "then I'll take care of you."
Alfred tried to sit up but found it difficult even to lift himself up off the floor. To him, it sounded like Al was talking in a tunnel. Alfred's head was throbbing, and his ears were ringing. His vision was slightly blurry as he looked over to where Al had walked.
Arthur groaned as he struggled to get up, clutching the bloodied side of his torso. "Don't underestimate me," he hissed as he stood and faced his opponent.
"I'm not," Al said as he swung his bat at Arthur.
Arthur tried to dodge the blow and yelped in pain when his broken ribs wouldn't let him move quickly enough. He was forced instead to put up his arms to defend against the nasty weapon. A loud crunch echoed the room when the bat made contact with Arthur's arms.
"No stop, leave him alone," Alfred tried to scream, but his cracked ribs wouldn't let his volume reach above a weak whimper.
Smiling like a cat playing with a dying bird, Al side-kicked Arthur in the ribcage, knocking him to the ground again. Arthur rolled over to face his attacker but couldn't move much more than that to defend himself.
It seemed as if Alfred's heart was in his throat as he attempted to stand. He crawled over to the wall and finally managed to find his footing. Doing his best to shake off the sensation of vertigo that nearly overwhelmed him once he stood, Alfred stepped towards where the other two were.
His foot hit something hard, heavy, and metal, and he looked down at the object. His head became clear as he finally saw what Arthur had brought him: Alfred's Glock 27. His head reeled from a mix of euphoria and relief as he reached down and picked up the weapon.
"Eyyaaaugh!"
Alfred looked up in time to see Arthur scream out in pain as Al stepped on his chest.
"Hush," Al said, raising his bat over his head. "It'll be over in a minute, and then you can close those beautiful green eyes forever."
"No!" Alfred shouted. All at once, his mind went blank as his muscle memory kicked in and he aimed his pistol in the direction of the other two.
"BANG!"
Al froze at the sound. A blackish-red spot formed on the back of his shirt and then slowly grew in size. He lowered his bat, turned around to look at Alfred, and smiled; blood trickled from the corners of his mouth.
Alfred blinked at the red stain he saw forming on the left side of Al's shirt, and then he looked down at his hand as the last of the smoke from his Glock 27 drifted into the air. Alfred's eyes widened. I-I-I—what did I just do? I don't remember pulling the trigger.
Al coughed and blood splattered all over his shirt. He looked down at the blood as it continued to flow out of his mouth and onto the gray floor. "Heh." He dropped his bat, and it clattered loudly as it made contact with the floor.
Al sank to his knees and touched his chest where the bullet wound marred the cloth on the front of his shirt. He pulled his hand away from his wound, looked at the blood on his fingers, and then looked at Alfred who felt a shudder go through his body when they made eye-contact.
"I guess you win," Al said, choking out the words. "Congrats." His eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell forward onto the ground with a soft thud.
Arthur stared at the dead man in front of him and then looked at Alfred.
"Well done," a flowery-sounding voice came from behind Alfred.
Alfred spun around to face the owner of the voice, instinctively aiming his pistol at the intruder. A freckle-faced young man who looked similar to Arthur was sitting cross-legged on the floor, twirling a knife in his hand. He stabbed the knife into the floor and ran a hand through his strawberry-blond hair.
"I surrender," he said with a wave of his hand and a twinkle in his bright blue eyes. "If you can kill my Alfie as cold-blooded and easily as that, I do not stand a chance against you."
"You're such a coward, Artie," the red-eyed Kiku said from above.
"Hush you," Artie said, glancing up at the screen. "You really should learn to read the atmosphere and refrain from speaking, Kiks. It's their first victory against us; let them savor it."
"Wait. What do you mean 'first'?" Alfred asked, raising an eyebrow. Before Artie could answer, Alfred found himself blinded by a glow from his body. He looked over and saw that Arthur's body was doing the same thing.
"Bye bye!" Artie said, smiling maniacally. He daintily waved a couple of times at them before the light got so bright that Alfred could no longer keep his eyes open.
When the room got dark again, Alfred opened his eyes and looked around. He breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw where he was: back in the character creation unit with a welcome view of Kiku's game development room.
"Bloody hell, stop crowding me," Arthur moaned below him. "You're going to step on my hand or something."
Alfred looked down and saw Arthur slumped on the floor near his legs. They both had reappeared at the same time. I guess that's because we both "won" around the same time?
Alfred let out a soft laugh. "Sorry, dude. Lemme get out of here." He opened the door and stepped out into the larger room. He took a deep breath of glorious "his world" air and noticed, interestingly enough, that it smelled differently than the air in the "game room".
"Oh thank goodness you're both all right!" Matthew cried, jumping at Alfred and tightly hugging him.
"Ouch, ouch, Matt," Alfred yelped. "Don't squeeze me that tight; I've been through hell in there." He looked over at Kiku and caught the nation quickly wiping his eyes and looking embarrassed.
"I'm so glad you survived, Alfred-kun," Kiku said. "I would have never forgiven myself if you had died."
"It wasn't your fault," Alfred said, gently pushing his brother away from him. Matthew laughed softly at the gesture, helped Arthur get up, and then supported him so that he could stand.
"No, it was," Kiku said. "The character creation unit was new technology that hadn't been tested yet. I shouldn't have rushed to finish before proper tests were made."
"It's fine," Alfred replied, holding up a hand and then flinching at the movement.
Kiku furrowed his brow and tears welled up on the corners of his eyes. "I will pay for your hospital care," he cried. "It's the least I can do to make up for all that happened to you two."
Alfred let out a small laugh. "Sounds fair to me. We'll just call it even after that."
"I agree," Arthur moaned quietly, then winced and gripped onto Matthew's shoulder. "Now can we get to the hospital, please?"
"Just let me shut down this game permanently," Kiku said, quickly typing in something before turning off the computer and grabbing his car keys.
"Let's play a board game later," Matthew suggested as they walked out of the room.
"Don't make me slug you," Alfred said.
"A card game then?"
"Maybe," Alfred replied as all four of them let out a good-natured chuckle.
Artie pulled his knife out of the floor and scooted over to Al's body. He rolled the other man's body over so that he was facing the ceiling, examined the bullet wound, and then a smile crept across his face. "Well, looks like he really is dead."
"So what? This room has a stronger connection to our world because it's in our world; he'll revive," Mattie said, walking up to the two nations. He let out a scoffing sound. "Besides, it's not the first time he's died. Although, I can't believe how careless he was. If the other Canada had entered the game, I could have helped you guys, but that fluffy pancake stayed out of it."
He nudged Al's corpse with his foot. "What the hell was with you, Al? You practically let them win," he said to his dead brother.
Artie looked at Mattie, his eyes wide. "You thought so too? I did think the whole fight was really strange. He never takes out the weak ones first; it gives the stronger ones too much of a chance to fight back. Why did he do it that way this time?"
Mattie shrugged in reply. "Maybe he was playing a little cat-and-mouse?"
"Well, no choice but to give him some CPR," Artie said, leaning in close to Al's lips.
Suddenly, Al coughed and grabbed Artie by the cheeks before he could get any closer, pinching and stretching them out. "I'm not in the mood for that, old man," he said finally, pushing the other nation away. He took a deep breath and stretched. "Damn what a rush! I can't believe some of you have never tried dying before."
"You have a funny way of getting your kicks, Al," Japan said to him as he walked into the room. "I really don't get that S&M side of you."
"And I don't get the geek side of you," Al said back. "Why are you such a science nerd? You should try drawing something for a change. Go do some art." He grabbed his bat and used it to help himself up. Al pulled out his shirt and examined it. "Damn, I'm gonna need some new clothes now. But, hey, it still was a fun game, right?"
Kiks smiled. "Yes, it worked exactly like I thought it would. I think I'll call it 'Alternate Universe Dimensional Portal Battle'."
Al shot him an incredulous look. "Really?"
"The title, like the game, is a work-in-progress," Kiks said matter-of-factually.
"I like the name," Artie chimed in.
Mattie laughed. "You would."
Al set his bat on his shoulder and walked over to the wall where Alfred's and Arthur's blood was starting to dry. He reached up and pressed his hand against the wall. He dragged his fingers down the wall, leaving red trails on the white surface, and smiled. "Hey Kiks."
"What?" Kiks said, looking irritated.
"Do you think you could open the portal to the other side without the other Kiku running it on his side? And then make us—how did you put it?—stable enough to exist on their side?"
"Probably. Why?"
"I think it would be fun to see what their world is like compared to ours," Al said, turning from the blood-covered wall and smirking at the other nations. The other three mirrored his expression.
"Sounds like an interesting game," Kiks said finally. "All right. I'll give it my best shot."
A/N
Well, that was interesting and dark. It really is true that writing a 2P fic helps relieve stress and aggression (don't ask; it's a long story. Just know these last few months have been hell for me). I feel so Zen-like right now. Hope you enjoyed it ^_^. I love feedback! It helps me to improve.
As I said in "Call Me Connie", it's my head-canon that nations can't die . . . or actually that they can, but their bodies are connected to the land and people they represent. As long as those two things exist, the nation thrives and can heal quickly. That's why Al (2P!US) could get shot, die, and then recover from that mortal wound.
I'm not sure if this needs an M rating; rather than reporting me to FFN, could you let me know if it does? I'll happily change the rating level with no argument (I was told the other day that my level of swearing and violence barely ranks my fics in the Teen or PG-13 rating).