January 4th, 2050

Alfred F. Jones, America

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. My eyes were stinging with angry tears as I stormed furiously forward, my foot falls heavy and my body shaking. I couldn't see properly. I couldn't think properly. My insides were swirling fire…a swirling fire that I've felt quite a few times throughout my life. I try everything in my power to quench this fire, but sometimes, the only thing I can do is to let it out.

The sky was dark. The clouds hovered over me menacingly and the wind seemed to pick up with each step I took. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It just wasn't. I'm America, goddammit. I'm happy. I'm free. I'm the hero. I'm the good guy.

So why am I feeling such cruel hatred right now?

That damn bastard doesn't know what's coming. He has NO right to do what he is trying to do. I won my independence from him, before. I sure as hell will do it again.

And this time, I'll shoot.

I will shoot him. Because I'm not weak.

I just don't understand why he could be so cruel. How can he look me at me with those green eyes and tell me flat out that I will be reduced to nothing more than a sectionalized group of colonies? Just like old times? How can he work so hard to tear down everything I have built up? Fought for?

I am an individual country. I'm just as powerful as he is.

I should've known that he never fully understood that. I was still that rebellious and annoying British possession. He was just standing on the sidelines, thinking that once I cooled down and behaved like the good child he thought I was, he could just take me back under his grasps so that I could be nothing but a British colony again. A British colony that gave all of my natural resources and other shit to him so that he could use it for himself.

No.

No. No. NO.

I don't fucking CARE that he is now a declining power. I don't care that he needs to freaking ANNEX me for his own survival. I don't care if he is becoming the joke of the European Union, that his foreign relations are crumbling, that his economy is failing, and that other countries are invading more and more of his land.

He can't take me.

I will make sure of it.

And if he makes one wrong move...ONE move that hints at a real attempt to seize me, I will go over there and blast his head open.

In fact, I hope that the other nations take him apart piece by piece until he is nothing but a group of foreign colonies. Just like I was.

I needed to do something. I needed to make alliances…and quick. That shouldn't be too difficult since Britain has made himself the most hated nation. When word gets out that he's trying to gain power by making me a colony again, serious shit will go down.

And I will enjoy it.

I paused as I felt a rain drop hit the tip of my nose. Then another on my cheek…then another on my forehead.

Soon, the drops of water fell steadily from the sky. It was a morose scene and I shivered. I saw that I was walking in a wide open field. A vast stretch of prairie that seemed to soar onwards without any hesitation. The straw colored grass wavered like golden ocean waves against the wind, and the water kept coming down and down and down…

Just like it did that day many years ago.

I remembered how the island nation fell to his knees in surrender. I remembered the pain that was plastered on his face, the gun falling limply from his hand.

I am the hero.

My limbs started to tremble violently and my throat had gone dry. With a painful pang in my chest, I started to run swiftly, my feet ripping through the long straw colored grass. I didn't care where I ended up. The rain hit my face and my vision was blurred. I didn't know if I was going north, south, east, west, left, right, up, down…

I won't let him take me.

I won't let myself feel sorry for him.

England used to be considered a father to me. Then, he told me to consider him my big brother.

He is no brother of mine.

I finally faltered and opened my eyes. The rain had stopped. In fact, the sky was a strange shade of baby blue dotted with endless amounts of fluffy clouds. I gazed at the scene around me, taking deep shuddering breaths.

Where the fuck was I?

Definitely not in America, that's for sure.

The wheat colored plains were replaced with cobblestone streets and narrow, yet intricate alleyways. The buildings were tall and lined with shuttered windows that hung with various flowers. People bustled here and there, occasionally stopping at the little outdoor markets that dotted the sidelines.

I took a few steps forward.

Definitely somewhere in Europe.

I walked alongside a group of elderly women who looked to be in a very engaging conversation.

What the hell were they speaking? French? Italian? Finnish?

Ugh, I was never good with languages.

Then I heard a few familiar words being tossed around here and there.

"Hola." "Adios." "Hermana."

I was in Spain.

Okay…cool then…not the place I had in mind- waaiiiittt a minute.

I am in Spain.

Spain has been trying so hard to take England's southern border.

What if I…assist him?

I tore through the streets violently, not bothering to apologize as I knocked some aggravated citizens here and there. Okay, okay…where would I find Spain? Where would he be? What does he do for fun? Jeezes, I don't know. I'm not Romino or Romeo or whatever the fuck Italy's brother's name is.

I swallowed and shook my head to rid my head of any Revolutionary era thoughts. This was not the time to be thinking of a defeated England. He doesn't deserve pity, no matter how much he cries or begs or whines. He has to understand that I will do everything in my power to preserve my independence and if that means blasting his brains out, I will do just that.

Through my flustered thinking, I collided with something. Hard.

My glasses flew off and I stumbled backwards. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I bent to my knees and started to feel around for them. Damn my bad eyesight.

"America?"

I perked at the voice.

"Spain?" I asked, squinting my eyes to try and make out the blob that seemed to be hovering over me.

I felt something being jammed into my face, and immediately, my vision cleared. I quickly straightened my glasses and got to my feet to face a very confused looking Spain. His hair was messy and his eyes were narrowed in slight suspicion at me. In his arms were a huge basket of tomatoes.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his usually easy tone constrained with distress and bitterness. I sighed out loud. Ever since the economic crisis and England's failure to pay off the debts he owed to the rest of the European Union after his war against France in 2048, the nations have all failed to smile. Even Italy doesn't smile much anymore.

Now almost everyone wants England's blood. He's the reason why all the countries are going through a bit of an economic depression. Even the Asian nations were getting pissed as hell because they've relied on European support for resources ever since the Alliance of December 2032. But since England has done so much damage to all of Europe with his pathetic dance with France, the money has drained; the availability of resources have ceased; and the cash flow has halted.

I honestly don't give a flying batshit. Well, I sort of do. I do have my own personal engagements with the foreigners. But not to any extreme. But when England talks of taking me back as a freaking COLONY, then I will play dirty.

That stupid bastard.

"I need to talk to you," I stated, seriously.

Spain seemed to immediately understand as a light flickered in his eyes. He nodded and beckoned for me to follow him.

He led me down a deserted and dark alleyway crammed in between two buildings. None of the light seemed to be able to reach us.

I watched impatiently as the Spaniard placed the basket of tomatoes aside and turned to look back at me, an intense expression of determination present on his face.

"I know what you want, America. I've heard about England's plan to annex you," he stated blatantly.

"Y-you do?"

He nodded and shrugged slightly. "Si. I only knew that it would be a matter of time before you got involved in this dilemma. It's only getting worse. My people don't have money anymore. A lot of them aren't getting enough to eat. The nations are getting angrier and angrier, including the Asian ones. I'm sorry that North America has to be a part of this as well."

I didn't say anything. I was fuming again as I thought of England's face. My fists clenched and I started to take deep breaths.

"I know that you want to make an alliance with me so that we can both work together to push back England and take his southern border," Spain persisted, his eyes alight.

I glared at the Spaniard. "Well? What do you say?"

Spain gave a hollow laugh and responded, cocking his head lightly to the side, "That bastardo is the reason why my mighty empire declined. He undermined my navy and took away my glory back in 1588. My nation has never been the same since. I think it's about time that I gave him a taste of his own medicine."

I smiled darkly and nodded. "We will talk more about this later. I will try and talk to the other nations and see what they think, but we have to move fast. Even though his power is declining, the bastard has one hell of a militia. Plus, he has that really powerful alliance with Africa, Austrailia, and…"

I gulped.

Spain's breath hitched in understanding.

"Russia."

To be honest, nothing scared me more than that commie bastard. I will never forget the Cold War. Despite the fact that there was a lack of physical assault, it was one of the most terrifying experiences ever.

It just makes it worse that Russia is supporting England. Fucking 2029 Anglo-Rus Alliance.

Spain placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must hurry, Alfred. We have to prepare."

I knew he was right.

But despite my cold determination, I remembered the sobbing England who fell at my feet, sobbing. The England who took my hand and raised me as a child. The England who couldn't shoot me because he cared too much.

Those green eyes…once so warm and affectionate…

Now so cold and dead.

And I WILL NOT let him take me.