Soooo… I shouldn't be doing this, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone. It even invaded my sleep. It's a lot more mature than my usual stuff, and I know I've said that before but I really mean it this time. This is not for the faint of heart. It contains torture, and I refuse to be held accountable for anyone having any kind of attack in consequence of reading this. You all are reading this of your own volition, no one is forcing you to do anything. As this oneshot is quite a bit more serious than my usual stuff, there will be no fun Author's Notes or Line Breaks. I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers. It belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya, of whom I am not and never will be affiliated with.
It wasn't supposed to come to this. It was supposed to be simple. No one would get hurt, except for the blonde they had strapped on the table. And even then, he would live through it. Because he was immortal, right? John stared down at his comrades with horror filled eyes. Their ribcages were ripped open, their hearts in small chunks around the room. One even had his brains used to paint a picture on the wall. John wished he were joking with that one, but it was true. The blonde-Alfred, his brain supplied-had painted a rather well done picture of the man's last moments using his blood and brains. John scrubbed at the side of his face, blood and skin flaking off in great pieces. John couldn't keep himself from vomiting. His bile joined the mess on the floor. How did it come to this?! John thought, staring at the entrails flung throughout the room.
Twenty-Four Hours Earlier
John sent his comrades a thumbs up, letting them know the camera was rolling. There was a blonde man-more of a boy, really-strapped down onto the table. He had been introduced as Alfred F. Jones, though he wasn't the one to introduce himself. Apparently, if the what the boss said was to be believed, this man- this boy was immortal. John didn't find himself convinced, but what the boss says goes. Alfred F. Jones shot his head up, straight through the leather strap restraining-or trying to, at least-his head. John stumbled back, shocked. One of his comrades shot him a look, and John was immediately back by his camera. Alfred's glare softened at the sight of the camera and flashed it a bright, thousand watt grin that could outshine even the best Hollywood actor's. However, he returned to looking just as hostile when he switched his gaze back to the boss.
"Hello, Alfred. How are you doing today," The boss asked, grinning sadistically at the restrained boy.
"Better than your snaggletooth there," Alfred quipped. John hid a smile behind his hand as the boss growled.
"That doesn't matter. You'll be dead soon anyways. Or, since you cannot apparently die, in so much pain you'll wish you could," The boss snarled, obviously unhappy with Alfred's response. Alfred pursed his lips and looked distinctly unimpressed.
"Do your worst."
It was three hours after John had started filming, and he was actually quite shocked. At the moment, Alfred had his skin opened up like a dissection and several of his ribs were missing, while the boss poked and prodded at his internal organs. I feel like I'm watching a vivisection back in med school… John's thoughts trailed off as he stared in morbid curiosity at how Alfred's heart continued to beat, even with a scalpel stuck upright in it. The boss dragged a hunt up and down on another of Alfred's ribs, which actually made the American giggle.
"You guys are funny!" Alfred's face was scrunched up as he giggled, causing his organs to wiggle around and for several of the observers gag. Including John himself. Though he also saw the macabre humour of the situation.
"You won't be saying that when we have your friends all trussed up like you are now," The boss growled. For some reason, this made Alfred giggle even more.
"Awwwww~ ! You're all so adorable! You think I care about them? Do whatever you want to them, I couldn't care less," Alfred giggled. John's eyes bugged out of his skull. Aren't they his friends?! John mentally screamed. The boss glared.
"You think you can fool us?! Me?! I know how much they matter to you," The boss shrieked. Alfred's giggles turned into full out laughter, his face turning red and gleeful tears running from the corners of his eyes.
"They don't mean anything to me! Hee hee, I don't, ha ha, care, h0 ho, AT ALL!" With that, Alfred ripped his restraints off and sat up, pulling the scalpel out if his chest and throwing it into the boss'. Alfred smiled charmingly at the camera, as if he hadn't just thrown a scalpel at a man.
"See, I don't care about those guys at all. I rule the world, not them. I don't need them. And they're so annoying! Of course, they say the same about me, but that's just a front." Alfred's smile took on a crazed look, "It's amazing what you can do when everyone thinks you're an idiot! Pay real close attention, cameraman. This is gonna be FUN!"
John sat on the metal table that Alfred had previously been strapped to. At this point, he had twenty hours of video. Most of it was Alfred doing unspeakable things to John's comrades. At the moment, Alfred was painting. He actually had quite the talent and eye for art. It was amazing and captured his boss' last moments perfectly. Alfred, John had learned, was usually a very bubbly young man. He was funny and kind, even offering John a blindfold so he didn't have to witness the carnage. John had refused, a ghoulish fascination over taking him. Alfred had shrugged and smiled happily. Saying; 'Just try not to get hurt, kay?' John was actually touched by the concern the boy felt.
"Hey, so are you really immortal," John asked. Alfred hummed and nodded.
"Yeah. I'm actually a little over two hundred years! That may be old for humans, but for my kind I'm still a baby!" Alfred did the finishing touch on the boss' body, and moved to his head.
"Really? Have you always been in America, or was that more recent?" It may have been sick, in a way, but John was really starting to like Alfred. He could almost feel the beginnings of an obsession take root.
"I've been here since colonization! One might even say I was made as the Nation was," Alfred answered. John snorted at the glee in his voice.
"Really? That must've been cool. If you don't mind me asking, how old are you exactly?" John focused his camera on Alfred, leaning forward in anticipation. Alfred chuckled.
"Two hundred and forty years old, give or take a little as I'm not sure of the exact date that I was born," Alfred answered.
"How can you not be sure when you were born," John asked. Alfred shrugged. Wow. He really doesn't know. That's alright. Maybe he could ask someone. John thought.
"Do you think this looks like your boss?" Alfred looked back at John, smiling brightly.
"Make the eyes a little squintier. And his nose is bigger," John answered, nodding at the adjustments that Alfred made.
"Thanks! Hey, can I tell you something?" Alfred's voice was sincere, his tone sober. John leaned forward, anticipating a great secret to be revealed.
"Anything…" John said, his voice breathy with anticipation. Alfred leaned closer.
"I lied. I really do care about my friends. They mean the world to me. I said they didn't, because then your boss would leave them alone. And, guess what?" Alfred licked his lips, "You're my friend now." John's eyes shone with happiness and gratitude, bit slammed closed as Alfred flicked him in the head, knocking the human out. It's official, John thought before he was lost to the world of the living for a few hours, Alfred F. Jones, you are my new obsession.
Well. That didn't turn out nearly as bad as I thought. Did you guys like it? Honestly, I wrote it on a lotta coffee and not much sleep. I liked it. Did you all like how Alfred lied? Ha ha! I had you all fooled, didn't I? Thinking Alfie's all bad! Nah, he loooooove his friends! I know I said no bubbliness, but it's the end! I hope you all liked it! Gule Gule, my Merry Band of Mutants!
This is ID Saying; That's All Folks!