Years had passed after America's great victory. Her contribution had been essential for the Allied Forces to defeat the Axis Powers: she had freed François, whose land had been occupied by Germany; she had helped her elder sister, England, during the Egyptian campaign; she had persuaded Italy to abandon the conflict; and, finally, she had overpowered Japan by employing the most advanced war technology ever. Alison was definitely proud of herself. She, the rescuer, the liberator, had plucked away Fascism and Nazism menacing Europe – in front of the whole world! Nonetheless, the only reward she had obtained was the spreading of her native language, which had turned into the international one, replacing French, German and Italian… such a tiny satisfaction wasn't enough for a greedy maiden like her. She was craving for more, namely for a complete subjection of all other countries throughout the globe.
The point was she actually hadn't been alone at fighting versus Ludwig, Alice and Sakura. On the contrary, she had had to share the triumph stage with a man named Russia. The American girl had never met him personally as their battle fields had never crossed; she had only managed to glimpse him once, straight before Berlin's capitulation. Indeed, against all expectations, her troops had invaded the metropolis some days after his ones, which had been destroying factories, deporting homeless kids, rifling museums and palaces; her soldiers could nothing but stare at the devastation Russians had caused. Alison, even if her being wasn't totally unmischievous as she pretended it to be, had felt suddenly mangled facing such desolation, unexpectedly desiring to backtrack. After plonking her rucksack on the ground, a mysterious glint had caught her attention, urging her to look in that direction; some meters away, next to a half-crumbled well, a very tall and robust man was standing, who was wearing a heavy, heel-long coat and whose face was almost utterly covered by a white scarf. America had gaped in front of such view: the only visible body parts were his violet eyes – and their gleam didn't express any mansuetude at all. Getting slightly closer, she had heard only a single word, a muffled word whose meaning she hadn't been able to snap because his language was too different from her own. But, in spite of the linguistic barrier, she had perfectly remarked the happiness in his voice.
"Хорошо."
She sighed. Although reminiscing wasn't her most favorite activity, she couldn't stop her thoughts floating upwards and downwards across her mind while she was sitting on the sofa and watching television. Wrapping her arms around the couch cushion, she closed her eyes for a while and let herself be cradled by her most recent memories. The agreements among embassies… the meetings with the Prime Ministers… the achievement of several peace treaties… and, finally, her greatest invention: the G8. Through this last one, she had been sure nobody would ever interfere with her economic plans: she would be informed of each intention her rival nations should show up and would gain enough time to dodge them. Nevertheless, someone didn't seem willing to bend down in front of her magnificence: Russia. The fact he had cooperated for defeating the Axis and his Red Army was as worthy as America's fighters seemingly allowed him to circumvent her predomination. Moreover, his left-wing dictatorship which had incorporated all Eastern States could be dangerous for her.
"I need a dido, I really do!", she stated, shuddering a little.
Dropping the cushion apart, she stood up and began walking in circles across the living-room. Tapping her right index on her chin, she realized the only way to scoff her enemy was enterprising something bright new, something none had ever dreamed of. A sudden drumming interrupted her reflections: turning her head rightwards, glancing at the window, the American girl noticed it had just started raining. After pulling back the curtains, she realized it was no simple summer drizzle at all, but a real thunderstorm. Despite her adultness, grey, rainy days reminded her always of the solitude she had been suffering from during the revolutionary wars she fought versus her sister Rose; and still nowadays she had this zany feeling suggesting her that watery clouds would be a disgrace token.
"What shall I do…", she faltered quietly, trying to dissimulate her uncertainty.
She was fully aware of her geniality and of her facilities – all in all, she was a hero! – though since a while she had been lacking of brilliant innovations. Was she weakening? No, of course not, she pompously told herself, it was just a matter of patience! Even the most admirable scientists and researchers needed some break, every now and then. All she required was nothing more but a new path to explore and exploit. But which one?
Someone knocked abruptly at the door, kidnapping the maiden from her glory daydreams. How strange, she thought, she was waiting for no guest. And surely not in the evening. She stepped slowly towards the door and opened it prudently – her nation's criminality rate wasn't among the lowest, and she perfectly knew how to behave in front of weirdoes… always keeping her pistol in her hot-pants. The man standing before her eyes was a complete stranger to her: she had never seen that beige hair, nor the enigmatic grin on his face. As the dampness was considerable, his regular breath was forming smoke-like splodges in the air, whereas his k-way was literally wet through. Yet, she couldn't see clearly his visage due to the restricted light.
"May I finally come in?", the foreigner asked her nearly whispering.
Alison had no clue about what she was supposed to do. Through that little sentence, she had heard his accent and understood he was no English native speaker. She was afraid he could be some illegal immigrant asking for asylum… and she absolutely wanted to avoid more troubles.
"Hey dude, why should I? Who are you?", she frowned.
"It is raining, so come on and let us move in. I will explain you everything.", he grinned.
The young woman bit on her downer lip. "Tell me at least what you're looking for."
The man crossed his arms. "I am here to make you a proposal."
"Proposal? What are you speaking about, man?", she squealed.
"Shh! Do not be so loud. Let me come in and I tell you. It is no good to discuss it on the street. You will not lose your time, I promise."
"Okay then.", she headed inside. "But take off your wet raincoat, I don't want it to dirt my house. Got it?"
Without any reply, the man footed into her household. Alison disappeared some minutes long as she went into the kitchen for fetching some coke: in spite of her bad mood due to her personal confrontation with Russia, she didn't want to seem inhospitable. Whilst pouring her favorite beverage into the glasses, she kept wondering about the mysterious man visiting her and his 'proposal'. Who on earth would ever be so daft and go outside in such a horrible-weathered day just in order to submit a bid? Moreover, she actually didn't feel like contracting anything… she was still so upset because of that monstrous man who refused to surrender in front of her supremacy.
"Your house looks very nice, to be honest!" her visitor reckoned loudly, after laying his coat and his shoes next to the radiator and sitting down on the couch. "It is a pity I have never been here before so far. I should come more often."
Alison poked out of the kitchen, carrying two cokes along and shutting the door with her butt. As she wanted to step closer to him for offering the drink, she noticed the strange eye-color he had and winced: it was a shadowy, shiny violet which was extremely similar to the one of her mortal foe. Her look slid later downwards, on his trunk. His torso was indeed quite brawny, even if not high-built, as brawny as Russia's, she observed. She unconsciously shivered and froze in the point she was standing in.
The man smirked at her. "Did you not want to give me a coke?"
"S-Sure.", she jumped out of her skin, but then provided him a glass.
The girl dropped herself down on an armchair, her head spinning endlessly. She was raving! She was doubtlessly way too exhausted and nervous, so much that Ivan's references nudged up everywhere. She eventually shook herself briskly in order to pull herself together.
"Well… tell me, dude, who are you and why are you here? I gotta know!", she croaked.
The beige-haired didn't stop smiling at her. "How come? You know me. We have never met before, but you surely know who I am. I am happy to see how you look like."
"Are you making fun of me?", she mouthed, opening her eyes wide. "I totally don't know you, man!", she added some seconds later, studying his attire and his body. "You certainly are no American… you're so unglamorous.". She obviously referred to the fact he was wearing no trendy clothes.
He didn't retort at all and kept smiling, even if in a spooky way. Alison, still puzzled, sipped a bit of her coke without stopping scrutinizing him. He was really manly, she commented mentally, being that tall and sturdy.
"Are you enjoying the panorama?", he burst out ironically.
The American maiden blushed. "What the hell are you saying? Won't you finally tell me the truth instead of bragging about bullshit?", she provoked him shamelessly. "You look like a peasant of that communistic idiot…"
"A peasant of that communistic idiot?", the stranger repeated, always smiling.
The house-owner waved off at him and tried to apologize in front of that good-looking man. "I'm totally sorry, dude, I didn't wanna offend you. Never mind about that. I've been having a hard time recently… there's a man who's a communist and I totally hate him. Although I've never met him personally, I can tell you, he's a real bastard, he doesn't give a damn about my directives."
"How can you know that he is a bastard if you have never met him? Maybe he has a good reason for ignoring your directives.", he claimed, still beaming at her.
"Erm…well…", the blond maid hesitated. The man's observation was smart, too smart for her standards. "It is like that, trust me! We've been fighting versus each other for many years but he's never had guts enough to challenge me explicitly! I'm gonna stop him because I'm the hero and I cannot allow that creepy Russia to rule over the world!"
"Russia, you said? I heard of his name. The entire world knows him I think. He is very popular in Eastern European countries, that praise his political vision. He is also known for his traditional culture, for example his old literature masterpieces."
His interlocutor raised her left eyebrow and stormed up on her feet, pulling out her pistol and pointing it at his head. "You're well informed about him, man. You're a soviet spy, aren't you? He sent you here for getting updated on my further moves, didn't he? Don't deny it!"
"Believe me, Miss America.", the violet-eyed explained. "I am the spy of none."
Lowering her weapon, but still gazing suspiciously at her company, she questioned him on. "Okay, I trust you. But what about your offer? You haven't mentioned it yet."
"It does not matter. I changed my mind.", he slowly stood up. "But I would like to tell you one thing about the man you hate so much: soon he will be one step ahead."
"One step ahead?", Alison parroted numbly his words. "What do you mean? What has he been planning?", her voice sounded worried.
He took his thick shoes on again. "Next week Russia is starting his space program. He has already scheduled the launch of several satellites. And in some months the first man is going to orbit our planet in a space module. You will not be able to stop him; everyone will know you are the loser."
She reddened in rage and gritted her teeth. She stomped towards the door and slammed it open. "Go away, immediately!", she snarled, indicating the outer lane with her left forefinger. "I knew you were a spy! I don't wanna see you again! Don't you dare come a second time!". She held her tears back.
He just shook his head and clutched his raincoat. "I am no spy, Miss America, I have told you.", he said, approaching the doormat. Before leaving once and for all, the foreigner grinned at her and murmured a soft "Хорошо". Then, the man quickened his gait under the rain and vanished in the fog.
The American woman's eyes popped out instantaneously as soon as she heard that word.
"Russia!", she exclaimed, gaping. "Russia! That handsome man was my sour competitor! And I permitted him to enter my shelter!", she panicked, hiding her mouth behind her hands.
She ran inside and flashed into the bathroom, where she opened the toilet-bowl in order to puke: the simple realization she had toddled in his vicinity, she had chatted wittily with him, she had handed him her favorite soft-drink… had just turned her insides upside down. On one hand, she felt completely tangled and mad – she feared that communist could have peeped around her stuff and obtained useful information – but, on the other one, her heart was beating fast in her breast, faster than ever. She had just had the chance to encounter him, to see his facial features… and, of course, his charming smile. Recalling his semblance, she didn't sense any contempt anymore, on the contrary… a sort of admiration. And a nice, warm feeling in her very deep soul.
As the sun rose up the following morning, Alison was still hanging around like a zombie. She hadn't been able to sleep because the whole night long she had been thinking over and over about Ivan. Serving herself an orange juice, she finally cleared up her mind: she couldn't give in that easily. That soviet was about to scout the cosmos? Perhaps she would never get in time to block his plan, but she could contrive something better, something extraordinary which would let his pioneering deed fade away into dust.
She beat her fist self-confidently on the table. "Yeah! Even though that walking hammer&sickle has developed a leading technology, I'll impress the world with my actions! I'll send the first man on the moon!", she swallowed half of her cornflakes in the meantime, "He won't be the number one for a long time! In a few years I'll have reached my aim and by then the thingies that fucking cretin did will be forgotten!", her eyes twinkled with satisfaction, "Nobody will ever remember your average attractive physique, Russia! Everybody will watch my sexy body and take me as universal model, because I'm the invincible hero of the Earth! Be prepared! Hahahaha!"
That's how the looniest competition of the XX century began.
Only history knows who won.