It was in the streets of the city of ashes and empty shells that he saw the flags once again. There was not a cloud in the sky despite the storm that had occurred not an hour before. Even though they were soaked through the flags were still beautiful. He saw them for all they represented. Each brilliant flag was all that was left of a nation that had long since fallen. Unconsciously his eyes found the flag of his twin. The maple leaf shone blood red from the background of snow white. He looked away. The red on white looked like Canada's blood against the white snow of his homeland. He couldn't forget not now not ever the way Canada's body had trembled as the bloody coughs had wracked his frame. He couldn't forget how one day when he went to visit his twin he had found Canada lying in his backyard blood dripping and staining the snow. The blood had formed some mockery of Canada's beloved maple leaf Maybe looking at the flag hadn't been the best idea. Now in this ruined world flags were just bits of cloth and nations were no more. He turned away from the piece of cloth that had brought back these memories in him. Alfred Jones formerly the personification of America had better things to do then sit and stare at cloth. He had to survive this desolate. He may not have been able to be the hero then but he would be one now. He had to be.