"Yes, yes. This will work." An emerald eye scanned its owner's reflection in the mirror. The other eye was covered by a black patch. A huge black hat with gold trims running along its edges and feathers ruffling one of its side sat on his head. His red long coat looked brand new, even though he had worn it numerous times, hundreds of years ago. The coat, too, had gold trims running along its edges. Underneath it was a white ruffle shirt and black trousers, pressed to perfection. A black boot that went up to his knees adorned his feet. For a pirate he seemed almost too regal.
His sandy hair was hidden by the huge black hat. His eye reflected power. His skin was smooth and he had a strong jaw which accentuated his handsome face. And along those jaw down to his beautiful collarbone was, was a…thick black beard?
England cackled. He could only begin to imagine the reaction that he would get from the others.
"Yes, today's meeting will be very interesting. Very interesting, indeed."
Just like all the countless description of world meetings in this huge fandom, it was boring and useless. What's that? I'm uncreative? Oh, shut up. You're missing the point, here.
Anyway like I said, the meeting went on like usual with nations chattering among themselves, ignoring everything else. The only unusual thing perhaps would be the fact that England, who was usually one of the nations to arrive early, was unusually late.
"Silence! All of you!" Germany shouted as per usual. "We're supposed to start this meeting 10 minutes ago!"
"Oui, but Anglettere isn't here, yet." France gestured towards the empty seat right across his.
"Does anyone know what's going on? It's unusual for him to be late." Germany sighed again for who knew how many times that day and it was only 10 in the morning.
"Hahaha! Maybe the old man has finally gone senile and forgot the meeting!" America exclaimed.
Suddenly music can be heard out of nowhere. And before anyone could began thinking 'what the?' two gunshots rang through the air and bullets penetrated the oak double door. The perpetrator kicked it down, hopped onto the round meeting table, ran across, jumped and awesomely did a double somersault in the air only to land right in front of the podium microphone just in time for the music entry signal.
"When I was a nipper, I boarded a clipper. Sailed the seas as a goods importer, oh!"
The perpetrator's voice filled the air of the miraculous moment where the whole meeting place was filled with silence. The nations were busy gaping and trying to compute the sight in front of them.
Obviously the person in front of them was England, even with the ridiculous get-up and the even more ridiculous black beard. However the unmistakeable eyebrows and green eyes, eye, gave him away. The question plaguing everyone's mind was: "What the fuck is he doing?"
England, however, payed no mind to his audience though it took all his will power not to burst out laughing at their reactions. Almost all the nations had their jaws dropping, except maybe Sweden whose pupils went impossibly smaller than normal and Russia who had an uncomfortable childish smile on his face. Instead, he continued singing.
"Arthur Kirkland's my name, but I earned my fame as Blackbeard the pirate of the water, oh!"
Slowly he moved from the podium and down the steps towards the other nations, giving them a good look of his appearance from head to toe. He slipped the two flintlock pistols in both his hands back to his belt.
"Was a jolly chap, with a jaunty cap" he tipped his hat at that. "Always gave my crew good quarter, oh!"
"But I'm best known for blood and guts and gore and a vicious reign of murdering and slaughter, oh!" England's one visible eye glinted dangerously. Spain cringed, bad memories involving ships and cannons coming back to mind. France, too, shifted uncomfortably and so did some of the pirate's ex-colonies.
Mysterious voices suddenly filled the room, echoing what the pirate had just sang. America screamed. A high-pitched girly screamed while shouting something along the lines of ghost but no one really paid him any mind. They were too entranced with this England, no, Blackbeard.
"Left my home in Bristol with a sword and pistol. Bid a fond farewell to old Blighty, oh!"
"What my enemies feared was my thick, black beard which I always enjoyed setting light to, oh!" England furiously patted his burning black beard, and the other nations were torn between laughing or seriously creeped by the mysterious fire that came out of nowhere.
Within the blink of an eye, England was now standing beside Spain. He crouched a little taking the Spaniard's right hand in his.
"Once I had a thing," Romano's face was going red with anger and jealousy which quickly turned to embarrassment when the pirate continued "for a captive's lovely ring that shone like a jewel in the nighty, oh!"
Spain was stuttering because clearly he was not wearing any ring, though he did remember something similar to what England had just said, and if he were to jog his memories further, it was the reason why he stopped adorning his fingers with rings. Of course England had intended to make him remember.
"When the man said no, I just said 'Oh!' and chopped off his hand and said 'Righty-o!'" England whipped out his cutlass and literally slammed it down. It pierced through the desk merely inches from Spain's arm, but it was enough to cause the Spaniard to tumble from his chair, screaming hysterically while gripping his right hand to make sure it was still intact as a particularly bad memory played in his head.
The mysterious voices came back again echoing his singing.
There was a short interlude. Spain had stopped screaming now and still the other nations were rooted in their spot. Their eyes concentrated on England. Said man was standing in front of the lines of flag poles that adorned one of the meeting room's walls and he had a faraway look now as if relieving the old days.
"Oh, I love to sail the ocean with my flag that inspired emotion."
He pulled out a black material from inside his pocket. The mysterious voices came back again and as they sang England began to untie his Union Jack flag from the flag pole and tied his pirate flag.
"With it's smiling pile of skull and bones. Smashing heart with a violent stabbing motion." As they finished England roughly stabbed the flag pole back in it's place to make sure everyone looked at his flag. Sure enough the new flag was black with a picture of white demonic skull almost piercing a red heart with his white spear.
"And I love to escape detection and to win my crew's affection." England swung around, as if he was dancing.
The mysterious voices sang once again, "Which was nothing to do with the twelve guns he wore on his belt that were for protection."
If the nations had sharp eyes, which they had, they could made out twelve guns on his belt while England's twirling motion lifted his coat up in the air as if on purpose. There were his two flintlock pistols, blunderbuss, pocket pistols volley guns, and a three-barrelled and four-barrelled pistols. Add to that the two cutlasses he had on both his sides. Plus who knew what other kinds of weapons were hidden inside that coat, and knowing England they must all be real, if the bullet wounds on the door weren't proof enough.
He stopped spinning abruptly, "I was awfully nice." Some of his ex-colonies would have blanched at that if they weren't too scared out of their mind right now.
"But I had the odd vice, which occasionally caused a commotion. The thing that I'd do was shoot members of my crew. If they didn't show enough devotion." He pulled up one of his pistols and without hesitation(and without even looking at his victim) shot at America. The bullet whizzed just above his head, splitting his cowlick into two.
"OMG! He just killed Nantucket!"
The mysterious voice echoed his song again.
"Once when very irate I shot my arch enemy, Francis Bonnefoy, for a bit of pleasure, oh!" He pulled out another pistol and shot at France (once again without even looking). It grazed the man's right ear, and France swore he heard a "tch!" coming out of England's mouth.
"Mon Dieu! Are you trying to kill me?"
England ignored him, though everyone knew the answer to that, France was just in denial.
"And when my debts grew killed half of my crew to increase my share of the treasure, oh!"
"Was doing well then seemed to run out of men." England scratched his fake beard even though it didn't itch.
"My captives boarded at their leisure, oh!" He seemed exasperated now.
"Smoked me dead, then cut off my head and displayed it on my mast for good measure, oh!" England made a slicing motion with his hand to his own neck and then threw his hands in the air dramatically.
For the last time, the mysterious voices came again echoing the last sentence, while England ran once again onto the podium. This time, he grabbed one of the long curtains covering the back windows and swung above the round table so far that it ripped. England, however, did a seriously awesome barrel-roll just in time and finished it with another double somersault and ran out of the meeting room. Cackling all the way out of the building.
The meeting room was silent. The maroon piece of curtain lay in the middle of the table lamely.
Prussia felt proud of England's display of awesomeness.
Hungary and Japan just realised that they were so entranced the thought of taking pictures didn't even cross their minds.
Spain was sulking in a corner.
France was lamenting his bleeding ear, saying something about his destroyed charm.
America was mourning the dead of his cowlick.
Canada was ignored.
Russia still had that childlike smile on his face though this was more out of amusement from America's predicament.
The Baltics were shaking.
Poland commended the acting.
Austria commended the music.
Switzerland made plans to discuss about guns with England sometime.
Germany sighed, "I can't believe he ripped the curtain."
And I appeared! From a small unnoticed hole in the corner of the meeting room! It's true! England's act is the first curtain opener to this series of horribleness, where the countries show the true history! And here to tell you all about these Horrible Histories is me. Some say I'm a rat, others say I can write. All you need to know is…I'm your horrible host!
A/N: I had wanted to upload this story when I've written a couple more chapters, but...I just can't wait anymore! And I'm having a bit of writer's block, so yeah, don't expect a quick update. This will all be loosely or completely based on the BBC show Horrible History, because it's such a brilliant show and I can't believe no one has ever done this before. I have quite a few chapters planned out already, but feel free to request a sketch. It would be a great help if you could provide me with a youtube link or at least tell me which series and episode it's from though. I hope you enjoy! :)