Hello, everyone! PurpleLuna98 here, with another story: The Dictatorships! I hope you all enjoy it! Now, onto the story!

Warnings: violence and beatings, some dirty language

Edit: So, when I was writing this, I didn't actually say what time period this was set it (because I found that that would help a lot). Anyway, the time period is 1949, after the second World War, and well into the Cold War for America and the Soviet Union. Also, neither Alaska or Hawaii have been added to the Union.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or the countries of Hetalia

"So Mexico, why do you think that England called a world meeting tomorrow?"

The Mexican man's brown eyes flashed in annoyance. "How am I supposed to know, America? However, if I had to guess, I would say it's about the war."

His tan suit's golden buttons, that ran up the length of the pants' legs and decorated the ends of the jacket sleeves, glinted in the sun as Mexico walked beside me. He adjusted the red bow-tie thing he was wearing around his neck. His black hair blew around his head in the London wind.

I rolled my eyes and looked forward again. "I asked what ya thought, not what'cha know."

Before he could come up with a reply, I looked over to my brother and asked, "What about you, bro?"

The timid country of Canada hugged his beloved bear tighter, obviously not comfortable being asked this. He wore a light blue suit that his boyfriend, France, had bought him, with a red tie. His pale blue eyes looked up into my slightly-lighter blue ones. "Well, even if it isn't about the war, it must be pretty important. England tends to handle things on his own."

I nodded, understanding his point of view. "That's a good point, dude. I wonder what made him have to call a world meeting..."

Technically, the meeting had been called for tomorrow, but Mexico had invited Canada and I to come to London early with him. We both agreed.

"Why do YOU think England called it, America?" Asked Mexico, raising an eyebrow in my direction.

I smirked and stopped walking. "'Cause England needs a hero, of course!"

Mexico groaned and face palmed. Canada smiled as I started to laugh loudly.

We arrived at the hotel a little while after that. Mexico said he had some 'important business' to attend to, so he left Canada and I with our room keys.

"Dude, my room is 310. What's yours?" I asked Canada on the way up the elevator.

"311. I think Mexico must be either 312 or 309."

"Who cares about him? I'm starving! Wanna go get some grub with me?"

"No thanks. I need to call France and tell him I got here before he forgets about me or remembers me and freaks out." Canada said guiltily.

I felt sad, but I didn't show it. I shrugged. "Suit yourself, dude."

After a small meal (consisting of five lobsters, three large rice bowls, and a medium Coke), I headed back up to my room.

I crashed onto my bed after I put down the key. The comfortable sheets felt too good against my back.

Before I knew it, I was drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

I woke in my usual uncomfortable bed, in my usual dank room... if you could call it that. My "room" was no more than a cot in a small, concrete area with a metal door that had bars on the small window. I didn't complain, though. It was my usual room, so what was there to complain about?

However, my room had something unusual in it today. A man was lying on the concrete floor, snoring loudly. His eyes were closed, but the glasses over his closed eyelids glinted in the half-light from the window on the door. He had dirty-blonde hair. He was wearing a light tan military uniform under a brown bomber jacket and black boots. His hands were covered by black gloves.

I walked over to him and gently nudged his shoulder. "Um, excuse me...? Please wake up." I said in my sternest voice.

The man groaned. "Canada, dude, five more minutes." He turned away from me and I could now make out a white '50' on the back of his bomber jacket.

I was momentarily stunned. Did I sound as stern as the Dictatorship of Canada? I shook it off and nudged him again. "No, please get up now! Please..." I said.

Before the other man could respond, a loud banging on my metal door erupted. "America, get up you dirty wanker! If you don't, I swear, I'll-"

"Dude, England, chill! I'm up, okay? I'll be at your house when the meeting starts. Don't get your panties in a knot!" Said the other man. I stared, open-mouthed, at him.

"Excuse me?! Do I have to come in there and teach you a lesson, you git?!" Britain screamed.

"No, it's fine Mr.-" I tried to say.

"You can come in here and try, old man!" The other man yelled. I was shocked; no one talking to Britain like that. Nobody.

"That's it!" The British man threw open the door. I quickly turned from the man to look at my angry master. "Get over here, NOW, America!"

I stood up to oblige, but the other man talked before I could move. "Come over here and get me, England."

I stopped, as did my master. Did this man just answer to my name? There was only one United Colonies of America, and that was me. Also, no one called my master England if they wanted to live.

"America, who is that on the ground behind you?" Britain asked darkly. I flinched; he used that tone when he was really angry with me.

"I don't know, sir, when I woke up he-"

"You talking about me?" The man asked. He had stood up. He was easily a head taller than me, and a couple of inches taller than Britain. He turned to face both of us, his piercing blue eyes glaring down at my master. "I am the United States of America, your former colony. I broke away from you so I didn't have to deal with your shit anymore. Or do you just not remember that?"

I couldn't believe it. Now that I looked at him, I saw that this man was an exact copy of me, minus a few things here and there. Britain gaped at him. He obviously didn't expect it either. The other me looked at me, then did a double take and adjusted his glasses.

"Dude, Canada, what happened to the nice suit France bought you? Or that bear you always carry around with you? Or your CURL!" That last word was very loud compared to the others. I flinched as the man approached me. He got very close to me and looked me straight in the eye.

"Hey wait a minute... Canada doesn't have the same shade of blue that my iris has, it's slightly deeper..." The other man suddenly turned and stormed up to Britain.

"Where's Canada? Where's Mexico? Did you do anything to my states? Delaware said he would call me in the morning, but he hasn't. I swear, if you laid even a finger on one of their heads, I will break you in half."

Britain didn't answer. Instead, he yelled out for his guards. "Russia, Denmark, Sweden! Here, now!"

Immediately the three men hustled in, saw our master in peril, and started walking towards the other me.

Said man turned on them, his blue eyes flashing in anger and annoyance. Denmark and Sweden started throwing punches and kicks at him, while the other me easily blocked all of them. He flipped Denmark over his head with two fingers then ran at Sweden.

However, before he could reach the Nordic, Russia hit him atop the head with his lead pipe.

The other me's blue eyes rolled up into his head and he stumbled. He probably would have fallen if Sweden hadn't been there to catch the limp body in his arms.

Denmark had gotten up and was rubbing his head. "Sir, what should we do with him?"

"Interrogation Room. Sweden and Denmark, take him there and set up everything. Russia, stand outside and wait for further orders."

"Yessir." All three me answered at once. All three men left the room, with the other me, and Russia closed the door behind him.

Britain turned to me. He took out his riding crop. He started tapping it against his palm. I knew what was coming.

"Now, time for the punishment of saying all of those things earlier."

I could have denied it and told the truth, that it was the other America that had said those things. But that would have only made things worse, so I just nodded.

The crop hit my cheek. My head was forcefully pushed to the side. "On your knees!" My master yelled. I did as I was told.

My back was hit with the crop. I held back a yell as old wounds opened with the new ones. He hit me again and again, but I never screamed once; that would only make it worse, after all.

"Apologize for your sin. Now, America," my master sneered at me.

"I am sorry for my sin, Master." I said. In return I got a boot in my stomach, sending me flying to the wall behind me and connecting with it, hard.

"No food until dinner. Think long and hard about what you have done."

I woke with my wrists hanging above my head. I shook my head and stood properly to find that my wrists, ankles, and torso were all chained to a stone wall behind me. My head pounded, so I guessed that I was hit with a blunt object. I tested my bonds. I could break them easily if I wished.

I sat down. It wasn't very comfortable, with my wrists hanging above my head, but it would have to do.

"Awake, are we?" I looked up to see England standing across the small room. "Excellent. I have some questions for you."

This wasn't the England I knew and loved. This England's green eyes were filled with lust: for what, I didn't know. He wore the same outfit, but it was black with red highlights, not green with black highlights. His eyes, face, hair - heck, even his eyebrows -, were the exact same.

I raised an eyebrow. "Well you definitely look like the old man. You have a better sense of fashion, though." Before the man across from me could respond, I started laughing loudly, which threw his guard off, "What am I saying?! He doesn't have ANY sense of fashion! Hahahahaha!"

I would have clutched my stomach if it weren't for the chains. My loud laugh turned into soft chuckles as I finally looked back up at my captor. He looked pissed, but I pretended not to notice.

"Are you finished?" He asked, his jaw clenched.

"For now, yeah, dude." I flashed a toothy grin at him. His eyebrow twitched. He got irritated just like the England I knew. I decided to dub him Britain.

"For starters, who are you?"

"Dude, I totally already told you. Ya sure that you are England?" I tilted my head.

His eyebrow twitched again. I resisted the urge to smirk. "Do you have any proof that you are who you claim you are?"

My eyes lit up. "Dude, I was waitin' for you to ask! Firstly, my glasses! They were a gift from one of my states when he entered the Union! His name is Texas. Also, my jacket. Another gift, but it was from Colorado. The fifty on the back? Hawaii asked Mary to stitch it into my jacket so when she and Alaska become part of the Union, I'll already have her gift. The star on the front? Washington, the state. The plane on the side? A late gift from Ohio once she built the Air Force Base.

"Oh, and one last reason." I stood and flashed another brilliant smile, "Because I'm the hero of the world."

I was slapped across the face. A salty liquid filled my mouth. I turned and spat the liquid out.

"That shut you up quite nicely. I'll keep that in mind the next time you get too noisy."

I smiled at the ground as my lip started to heal itself. "You can't make me do anything, dude. The hero never gives in to anyone. Period."

The man across from me smiled cruelly. I narrowed my eyes in response.

"Oh, we'll see about that, America."

I watched as the man who called himself America got ruthlessly beat by my master. He didn't cry out once; all he did was keep an insistent smirk on his face. This definitely wasn't the America I knew, this was a completely different one.

"Denmark, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" I nodded in response to Iceland's question.

"It's like he's a completely different person. I can't see how he claims to be America, he's so much stronger. But, if he is..."

"Then he isn't from our world." Iceland completed my thought. I nodded and he continued. "I've been thinking about that. He claims that he is America, yet he is completely different from our America. He is stubborn, strong, and has a hard head that is only out for others. The only thing that will break him will be-"

Realization hit me. "His friends and family being in harm's way. I guess we figured that out... Also... Did you hear what he said about his states? And Mexico and Canada? He sounds fond of them. And even though his voice is filled with sarcasm and malice towards this 'England', his eyes betray the fact that he loves him."

"Exactly. I bet it's ripping him to shreds inside that his lover is beating him." He said casually. I shuddered inwardly at his tone: cool and uncaring.

"Shall we turn the audio back on, then?"

"Yes. We should hear what they're saying." I agreed.

Iceland pushed a button and we immediately heard the labored breathing of the man in chains.

Well, how did everyone like it? Next chapter was a hard one to write, but if I tell you why, it'll spoil it. I'll post the next chapter up tomorrow or the next day since I already have it typed up. Reviews will be well appreciated! That's all from me, everyone.

~PurpleLuna98