Disclaimer: Hetalia is owned by Hidekaz Himaruya.
Welcome to my story. It has been rated T for language and action. Those are the only warnings I have for now, I'll let you know if things change.
This fic is set in canon-verse and will eventually include the Nyo!talias as well as the 2Ps. If that's your kinda thing, then please, read on :)
"Aw yeah!" America cheered, the salty breeze ruffling through his hair as he overlooked the open water before him. The metal dog tags on the chain around his neck clanked together as though happy to be flying free.
"America!" an all too familiar-not to mention cranky-voice scolded.
Glancing down, the energetic blond saw his ex-brother glaring intently up at him from the deck below. "Can't you be serious for once?!" Man, when he got angry it was almost as if his caterpillar eyebrows fused together to create one super caterpillar. Haha! Hilarious!
Smirking, the young nation jumped from the top of the mast, enjoying the weightless feeling and the horrified look on the older nation's face as he fell. Just before he reached the deck, he flipped to his feet before landing with a THUD!
"And he sticks the landing!" America cheered, bowing to an imaginary audience.
"Be careful, you twit!" Britain growled, grabbing the American by an ear and pulling him along.
"Ouch!" America protested, "Dude, that's attached! Oww...owww… owww..." The younger nation could've sworn he saw a smirk play on the island nation's face as he pulled him down through the ship. Man...Arthur-er-England, was such an old geezer! As though reading his mind, England pinched America's ear harder as he continued to drag the younger nation through the ship's winding hallways.
"America we are trying to have a meeting about the mysterious radio calls that we've all been receiving and we can't start until everyone is present-that includes our self-proclaimed hero." Man, he sounded tired. America felt a rare pang of guilt and stopped struggling against the personification of Great Britain.
The radio calls...those were the whole reason that they were even out on the sea. About a month ago, many countries had begun to hear odd interference through the radio. It sounded like voices, crying and pleading for help… They were haunting voices. Though whatever they were trying to say was lost in the static, it were as though their voices carried a general sense of fear and dread.
Once America started hearing these garbled cries over the radio, he had raced to the pentagon to report to his boss. Someone, perhaps his own citizens, were in some kind of danger and in need of help. But, as he had played a recording of the strange message, his officials had looked at him as though he were playing some sort of sick prank. They told him not to waste their time by playing static. That was when he'd realized, no one else could hear the muffled voices crying over the radio waves, well no humans at least. Apparently, Canada, England, France, and some others had similar experiences with the strange voices.
As the weeks carried on, the interference became more and more prevalent: calling out over walkie-talkies, police scanners, baby monitors, even disrupting popular songs played on the radio. But still, their human citizens seemed not to be aware of the chilling cries being emitted over their technology. Soon, America found that he couldn't go for a drive in his car without hearing the cries playing over his favorite pop/rock station. Yet, he couldn't just listen to his other music devices, the cries tugged at his heart making them impossible to ignore.
That's when the countries had decided to go out in search for the source of the radio interference themselves. They'd held secret meetings, tracing the signals to their origin, the Atlantic Ocean-a couple hundred miles from the shore of New York.
Without the understanding of their bosses (who probably all thought that their personifications had gone insane), England had somehow gotten permission to take a small naval ship out into the Atlantic under the guise of having a collective day off with the other countries. Being thought of as crazy must have it's perks, because none of the countries had very much trouble convincing their bosses to give them the day off.
"In addition," England carried on, releasing the American's ear to allow him to stand up straight, "you must be more careful." The British nation took the edges of the American's bomber jacket in his hands and straightened it before continuing to brush imaginary lint from his black t-shirt. "Just because we are very hard to destroy, doesn't mean that we can't be hurt or worse." He looked up to meet the American's eyes. "Do you understand?" America felt a twinge of deja vu, England had acted similarly when America had joined in WWII. He was always one to imagine the worst.
America looked at England for a minute before he shoved his hands into his jean pockets, and laughed. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be careful." Sheesh, this guy!
England rolled his eyes. "Okay, let's go." He opened the door to the cockpit where all the other countries were waiting-the G8, plus China.
"Good, you've made it." Germany nodded as England and America joined the group. Japan and China were manning the controls where various buttons and dials flashed and beeped. Seated at a table, Canada and Italy had large headphones gripped to their ears, likely scanning for the mysterious signals on the laptop between them. On the other side of the room, Germany, France, and Russia were gathered off to the side, huddled over a counter studying a map of the Atlantic.
"There is a storm, roughly six-hundred kilometers away," Japan reported. "It isn't currently headed in our direction, but we should keep an eye on it regardless."
England nodded, "That is good to keep in mind, thank you Japan. This ship should be big enough to weather the storm, but I'd prefer to stay out of it if at all possible." Japan nodded before turning back to the dials.
Walking toward Germany, France, and Russia, England led the way pressing into the small group. "I found America, are you all ready to begin the meeting?"
"Yes," Germany affirmed, "I'll collect the others and we can begin." He walked off toward the control panel.
"While he's doing that," America announced, hand pulling a small flat box from his jacket, "I have cool mission gear for everyone."
England crossed his arms, "Tell me, what kind of 'gear' could possibly fit into a box of that size?" Grinning, America answered the Brit by pulling out one of the many dog tags, much like his own, that had been tucked carefully away in the small box. "You can't be serious." The British nation deadpanned.
"C'mon, Igs!" The young nation laughed, holding that tag up. "I had these specially made! We never get to go on cool mission like this all together!" The tag was a silvery metal and embossed on one side with a detailed pattern of the Union Jack. Turning the trinket over, into the Brit's hand America showed that the other side had been inscribed:
A. Kirkland
United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland
"That was very thoughtful, America. Thank you. And don't call me 'Igs'!" Moving his fingertips over the inscription' England raised a brow. "Why our human names?"
America shrugged, handing a dog tag with the Maple Leaf over to his twin before passing the box over to France. "They wouldn't allow me to put 'Personification of:' as a title. So I figured human names were better than just flags and the names our lands."
"So, America," Russia drawled, eyes glinting playfully as he toyed with the heavy piece of metal around his neck, "where were you? Out playing on the deck of the ship?"
America smirked, "Playing? Dude, I was out being the total hero that I am and running surveillance for the entire ship all at once." He sat down in the seat next to England, earning an impressive eyeroll from the Kingdom.
France took a seat on the other side of England and raised a curious brow. "So, you were playing up in the crow's nest? Oui?" Man, did everyone think he was such a child, playing while on a mission? Was it so wrong to try to get out of the stuffy conference room and enjoy the salty air and sunshine?
"Actually, he'd somehow climbed to the top of the mast," England answered.
The American was about to defend himself by telling how awesome it had been way up in the sky and how the other nations just could never understand, when a small voice came to his aid.
"Did you have a good view from up there?" America turned just in time to see his twin slipping into the open seat next to him. Good ol' Mattie, he could always count on his bro to back him up.
Grinning widely, America crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back as far as he could without tipping the chair over. "Pretty boring actually, nothing but flat water and clear skies for miles. Nothing for the hero to do, ya know?"
Canada chuckled lightly before smirking at his brother, "Sounds like fun. You'll have to take me with you next time."
"Definitely." American gave his bro a thumbs up as Germany and Japan joined the long table.
"China will be taking over navigation and Italy will continue to monitor the radio waves," Germany announced. "So, let us begin the informal meeting for this unofficial mission. Mr. Britain, if you'd like to open."
England stood, "Well, currently we have a general idea of where the emissions of the signals are coming from." He pointed to a red circle that had been drawn on the map. "We should arrive in the perimeter within minutes. I encourage everyone to look sharp, we don't want to miss anything that may be contributing to these phantom distress calls." He looked around the table. "At this time, does anyone have any information that may be beneficial to our efforts?"
Clearing this threat, America stood, "My scientists have been monitoring weird electromagnetic bursts of energy that seem to be originating in the same area." At this, the other countries turned to him with rapt attention. "They started off really weak but they have steadily been gaining strength." He shrugged. "Just something that we all might need to know. We have no reason to believe these spikes are dangerous, and as of now they've been labeled as 'anomalies'."
"Well, that is wonderful," France murmured dryly. "Is-"
Suddenly there was a scream and everyone turned in time to see Italy fall out of his chair and struggle to get away from the radar-throwing his headphones off in the process.
"Italy..?" Japan called softly, walking over to try to calm with distraught ally. Even China ceased monitoring the navigation equipment to regard the scene that was unfolding.
Canada acted first, rising from his seat and gathering the headphones that had been roughly thrown to the ground. Pressing one of the ear pieces to his head, his eyes widened and his face blanched. "Hello? Hello! Can you hear me?!" The Canadian desperately clung to the headset. "Please…" his hand was shaking. Apparently whoever was on the opposite side could not hear him.
"Bro?" America called, also rising to his feet. The look on the Canadian's face was one of pure shock and perhaps...terror…?
"What is it, lad?" Canada didn't respond the British man's call, instead his grip on the headphone seemed to tighten while the look of wide eyed terror remained on his countenance.
France, followed by America, strode over to his former colony, "Mon Chou, this is not funny," he chided gently, eyeing the plastic audio device skeptically.
America gently pried the headphones from his brother's hand, once the offending sound was removed Canada shuttered and closed his eyes. Just what had he heard? Unable to stifle his curiosity, America pressed the device to his own ear and closed his eyes. There was something...something just beneath the static. It sounded like…a woman weeping. Yes, he had heard it time and time again. It was the one sound that never changed over the years. The sound of a woman who had just lost her loved one to war; the sound of a woman burying her child; the sound of a woman who had lost someone dear to her. It was a hollow, gnawing sound. A sound that offered no hope.
"There was more." Canada murmured, his violet eyes burning into America's own. America snapped out of his thoughts and quickly took the device from his ear and pressed it against the table. There was more? More that the haunting sound of a devastated woman?
Turning, he saw that the other countries were staring at him and Canada, while Italy clung awkwardly to Japan, still whimpering into the small man's shoulder. They were waiting in answers, answers that they knew they would likely regret, given how shaken both North American twins were. But they needed to know.
"Was it recorded?" America asked quietly, secretly hoping that it hadn't. Just the weeping was painful, he wasn't sure he wanted to hear what Italy and his brother had heard.
Canada nodded and turned to the laptop screen. "Yes. Hold on, I'll rewind it." America felt a chill run up his spine. He didn't want to hear it-he really didn't! But, he watched his brother pull the audio back to just before the lines indicating sound started and unplugged the headphones. "H-here it goes…" By that stutter, America knew that Matthew didn't want to listen to it again either, but he hit the play button anyway.
The audio began.
"Hello, hello, is anyone there?!" A woman with a French accent pleaded. "Please! If anyone can hear me, please answer!" There was screaming and scuffling in the background. "We are on the ship 'Queen's Revenge,' and requesting back up! There are too many of them, we are overrun!"
There was the sound of splintering wood and what sounded like the unearthly bellow of something out of a child's nightmare. More screams could be heard. "Merde! We are requesting back up!" The speaker's voice was becoming more strained and desperate. "If we have any allies left alive, we need back up."
"She was pulled overboard!" A different feminine voice called in the distance as a multitude of other voices started talking unintelligibly in the background.
America felt sick. He wanted to punch the machines invoking the voices of women who might already be dead, he wanted to charge into the battle they'd so obviously been caught in and kill whatever was torturing them. He couldn't stand the helplessness he felt, yet the recording continued.
A string of French curses were uttered over the air "Merde, merde, merde!" The voice of the broadcaster broke and a sob escaped her lips.
"America, America what are you doing?! America, NO!" Yet another voice screamed in the background, seemingly pulling the speaker's attention.
"Non, Amerique, ma chou!" The original speaker cried out. There was a clatter as though the speaker had suddenly dropped the mouthpiece and they could hear heeled shoes clamoring across a hard floor-away from the communicator. Then there was nothing but static and muffled sounds of far off voices.
Why had they been calling his name? Why?! America felt like he couldn't breathe. Maybe they weren't talking about him, maybe they were talking about an American? But still...what had that person done?
"America?" The voice snapped the country out of his thoughts like a splash of icy water. Turning his head slightly, the superpower saw Britain reaching out for him. His face, like that of all the others were pale with shock-even that damn Russian looked uneasy. "Lad, are you okay?"
The young country eluded the other's touch. Stepping back, he tried to laugh it off, to tell everyone that it would be okay, that he'd find the bad guys who did this and give them exactly what they deserved. But...he couldn't. Why had the voices called his name? Why?!
America shook his head slowly. He wanted to say something, but his throat felt tight. Looking around, it was plain, even to him, that his fellow nations were afraid and by the way they eyed his movements-afraid of him.
A hand clamped onto his shoulder and America turned instinctively to face his attacker, but was met with serene violet eyes. "I trust you, Alfie," Canada whispered, giving his brother a small smile. It wasn't Canada consoling America, it was Matthew comforting Alfred.
Before America could respond the recording sprang to life once again. It was the weeping, the damned weeping that was definitely going to haunt his nightmares.
"If anyone can hear this, we've failed" The sobbing continued in the background. "We are sorry…"
The speaker didn't say another word, but the sound of muffled sobs continued and echoed off of the metal walls of the ship. It really was an awful sound: all but silent, yet it was a sound that wouldn't be denied.
CLICK.
"Well," England murmured, hand still resting on the sound system controls, "we know what he have to do, why are we still standing around here?!" His lime green eyes flashed to each of the countries.
Germany quickly recovered. "Yes, Britain is correct. We can't stand around, waiting for something to happen." Germany turned to the former Axis Powers. "Italy, stop crying all over Japan." His cool, blue eyes swept up to the Asian nation, "Japan, please continue to assist China with the navigation-we must find the source of these signals as fast as possible."
"Hai!" Japan nodded, gingerly untangling himself from Italy's clutches and hastening to his post.
England glanced over to France. "Frog, you take control of the ship. Disengage autopilot and follow Japan's directions exactly," he narrowed his eyes, "sink my ship and I will kill you. Am I clear?"
"As crystal, rosbif," The country of love smirked, blowing a kiss to the island nation.
England's eye twitched as he stepped out of the path of the imaginary, airborne kiss. "Russia," the large nation snapped to attention, "would you please take over manning the radio?" America didn't miss the glance that Britain threw his way, "I think the others need a break for the moment."
The Russian nodded. "Da, of course!" He walked past the North American twins, taking the seat that Italy had vacated with such prejudice. Once again, America noticed the cool look the former Soviet gave him in passing. It wasn't suspicion or hate-those he was used to. Instead it seemed more…guilty...more like...pity?
"America!"
Hearing his name, the blond nation whirled around. "Yeah?"
England raised an eyebrow, "You, Canada, and Italy, come with me. We entered the circle a few minutes ago, we're going to the top deck to see if we can spot anything." Canada and Italy were already making their way to the door. "Some fresh air will do you good."
On the deck, America stared drearily into the sea, try as he might the audio from the call kept playing on a loop in his head. "What the hell was that?" He wondered aloud.
"Don't worry about it," the American looked up to see Britain leaning against the railing next to him. "It was eerie to be sure, but we mustn't lose sight of our objective." The Englishman sighed, "Besides, I need you to be ready to punch the goddamn lights out of whatever we do find."
America chuckled before a wind off the sea cut over the ship. "Damn it's cold," he muttered, pulling his bomber jacket more tightly around his neck.
England clicked his tongue is disdain, "It shouldn't have gotten this cold this quickly-even on the sea…" Looking around, it was apparent that something was not right, the sky was darkening although it was just past noon and a thick fog was billowing over the water. The Brit frowned. "The storm couldn't have possibly caught up to us."
As though to prove just how wrong the personification of the U.K. was, the sky flashed yellow with lightning that sprang from thin air. The water, that had been a dark gray-blue, turned black under a darkening sky.
"Fetch Canada and Italy and get below deck," England ordered, "I need to relieve the French Buffoon from his post, lest he kill us all in this storm."
America saluted, "Aye, Captain!" He teased, smirking as he saw the glint in the older country's eyes before he turned away and disappeared into the ship. Now, to get Italy and his brother. Last he saw, they had been staring off into the sea at the bow.
Heading to the front of the ship, America saw Canada gripping the side of the railing and staring into the ocean while Italy cowered behind him. "Yo, Bro!" America waved, heart dropping when Canada turned to him and immediately pointed into the sea.
"There's something moving in that water!" Cried Italy, covering his closed eyes.
Looking over the rail, America could see that the water had gotten even darker. Upon closer inspection, he could make out shadows writhing just under the glassy surface of the water, moving like a pool of earthworms. The water was no longer ebbing and flowing in the usual current, it was now whirling in circles, splashing the brackish water in every direction. That wasn't normal.
"Mattie!" Alfred called, having to raise his voice against the mounting wind, "Take Italy and get back into the ship!" He snapped his glasses from his face in a Clark Kent-esque fashion, tucking them safely into his inner jacket pocket. It wasn't like he actually needed them to see-they just hid his secret identity. And now, it was hero time!
"You're not staying out here by yourself!" Canada protested. America could just barely hear him over the roar of the wind and sea that was beginning to push the ship.
Glancing back to the water, the hero could now see large shadows swimming around the ship. It was concerning, as they seemed to be swimming closer and closer to the surface. Hairs raising in the back of his neck, America ran toward his brother and friend. "Let's go!" He grabbed Canada's wrist and hoisted Italy up by the waist, holding him like an American football against his torso.
Racing back to the ship's entrance, they had almost reached the door when something very large rammed the ship. Yelping in surprise, America lost his grip on Italy as the three countries fell to the floor and began to slide across the slick deck.
"ITALY!" A German voice yelled, grabbing the Italian by the boot before he could slide overboard.
At the same instant, someone caught America and Canada before they planted their faces into the deck. "What am I to do with you, mes garçons?"
"France, dude! Am I glad to see you!" America cheered, while Canada gave more subtle words of thanks.
"But of course!" The Frenchman nodded, flipping his hair before frowning. "What on earth is going on out here?!" In just a matter of minutes, the sunny, clear skies had turned into violet skies rumbling with yellow lightning, churning black waters.
"I think we found the cause of that distress call." Canada muttered, his eyes wide as he kept turning to look behind. "There are things in the water…"
"All of you, go take cover inside," Germany commanded, dropping Italy safely inside the ship. He pulled a gun from a holster on his leg, "I'll patrol the deck." He walked cautiously to the railing and frowned upon looking down into the murk below.
"Hell naw," America whipped out his own gun, "Like you're not going to need another person to watch your back."
The German seemed to contemplate the proposal before nodding, "Fine, just keep a sharp look out. No telling what we're up against." He turned to the shivering Italian, "And you, get back into the cockpit with the others!"
"But, Germany!" The Italian whined, jumping back to the tall, blonde's side.
"No, buts!" Germany argued, unaware that large tentacles were creeping over the side of the ship and slithering close to the group.
"All of you," the group turned to see a very cranky-looking England. "Get back in the ship. China and Japan can't find any trace of any other vessel in the vicinity." America frowned, if there was no other ships in the area then...the distress calls...that meant they were… "We need to report these occurrences to our governments. Frog," he snapped at France, "go try to make contact with any naval vessel sailing by, with any luck either my or America's navy will be in close enough proximity to receive the messages-regardless of the storm." As the Frenchman nodded and returned to the cockpit.
"Without another ship in the area, there isn't any reason to linger here," England said slowly, "we are currently ill equipped to deal with...whatever is going on here. We need to fall back and devise a plan on what to do next-"
The ship lurched, sending even Britain's seafaring body slamming into the deck. "We've been rammed!" Germany growled, standing and surveying the damage. Around the side railing huge tentacles were wrapping themselves, pulling the ship to one side. "What the hell?!"
"We need to get that off!" England hissed, "If it manages to capsize the ship, we're through!"
"Leave that to us!" America grinned, nodding to Germany. Guns still in hand, both countries took aim for the large, black tentacles that were starting to bend the metal off of the ship.
Canada nodded, "We'll leave it to you then. I'll go get the others, we'll need everyone to get out of this!" The three other nations ran to get weapons and reinforcements, leaving America and Germany to what they did best.
As soon as the shots rang out, all hell broke loose. The ship heaved. Tentacles flew out of the water. Aiming left, then right, America tried to be careful of not sending or receiving friendly fire. The tentacles were no longer attached to the rails, the ship wasn't going to sink. Good! Now the tentacles were focused on annihilating what had hurt them. Shit!
Jump over the tentacles. Don't let them wrap around your ankles. Aim. Shoot. Damn! The rubbery tubes just kept taking the bullets and kept swinging. There were six-no-seven?! Too many to keep an eye on. Whatever creature they were attached to, America didn't want to find out.
"Aaghhh!" Turning, America saw one of the tentacles had wrapped itself around Germany's chest. His face was a tight grimace as the creature appeared to be trying to squeeze the life from him.
Just because we are hard to destroy doesn't mean we can't be hurt, or worse… England's words echoed through his mind.
Taking aim, America was about to squeeze the trigger when he was swatted from behind. Gun clattering to the deck, America felt dazed as the tentacle swiftly wrapped itself around his own chest. The pressure was terrifying. He didn't even have air in his lungs to scream.
Multicolored spots danced before his vision. By the time the others arrived, it would be too late for the American and definitely, too late for the German. Was this how it ended? Damn.
Something scampered across the deck. Vision fading, America squinted. Was that...Italy..? Yes! What the hell was the little Italian man doing?
Italy carefully crept around the tentacles that were resting on the deck or flailing through the air, his eyes locked on… America tried to focus, the corners of his vision fading to black. What was it?
The Italian picked it up and held it, trembling, before his face. His gun! America's handgun! The American prayed that Germany had taught the timid man something about handling the weapon.
BANG!
Suddenly the pressure was gone and America fell to the cold, metal deck. Filling his lungs gratefully with air, he could feel his head begin to pound. Exhaling, the American found himself choking, spitting out blood. Definitely some internal damage, but nothing that wouldn't heal. Nothing that could keep him from fighting.
Still panting, America looked up. Tentacles were flailing. The surprise attack clearly worked. Italy was trying to reach the German nation who was a crumpled mess on the ground. He'd be okay, Germany had survived much worse.
"America!" The young nation turned to see Canada and Britain rushing toward him, Russia and Japan going to protect Germany.
"Alfred! Are you alright?" Britain knelt next to the nation, pushing him into a sitting position. Canada, though he looked equally concerned, stood tall, a rifle aimed at any nearby tentacles.
"I'm alright," the American nodded, wincing slightly and clutching his chest. Yep, there were at least a few broken ribs. No biggy. Sure hurt like hell though.
"Good. Stay low until you're up to it," Britain rose, clicking the safety off his own gun. "Take it down!" He commanded. Russia did not seem to have any weapon, preferring to wrestle with the beast's appendages bare handed. Japan, katana unsheathed, sprung into action and began lopping off tentacles. One...two...thr-
The creature roared in pain and spiked Japan to the ground. The ship was thrashed around as the beast recoiled from the burn of the Japanese man's attacks. Struggling to keep their footing, the nations covered their ears and dodged flailing tentacles. Or tried to-
Canada was thrust to the ground and Russia was locked in a match against a squirming limb. In the blink of an eye, Italy was pulled from Germany's side and dragged, screaming, over the edge of the ship.
"ITALY!" The large blond nation bellowed, trying in vain to leap to his feet to go after the small Italian. His cried were mixed with similar cries of horror.
America met Germany's eyes which were wider than he'd ever seen them. He'd taken too much damage from the beast's clutches, he wasn't able to go after his friend. The German man's eyes were pleading.
He may not always understand the atmosphere, but message received. Wobbling to his feet, hissing at the ache in his torso, America began to run. Canada caught his eye, sending him a horrified glance. "He was pulled overboard!" America yelled, trying to explain his actions. Faster, faster! He needed to pick up speed! Perhaps they couldn't save the women from the distress calls, but he'd be damned if he let anything happen to his friends!
"America," This time it was Britain. He too had seen the American and looked terrified at the prospect of what the American intended. "America, what are you doing?!" No time to stop, he had to rescue his friend. Jumping onto the railing, the young nation took as deep a breath as his aching chest would allow. "America, NO!"
He leapt. A shiver ran through his spine. What did England say?!
Freezing cold! No time to think! America opened his eyes and propelled himself through the murky water. All around things were moving, things that could only be seen by the corner of the eye before darting back into the murk. Skin tingling from cold and fear, America shook those thoughts from his head. His punches might not be as effective underwater, but he knew it still packed a wallop. If anything got too close…
Italy! America could see the panicked look of the Italian, a huge, dark band clamped around his torso, pulling him deep into the sea. He dove. Kick, kick, kick! He had to catch up! If he didn't… No! He was the hero, and the hero always saved the day, now swim!
It didn't take long, the creature was bleeding profusely from the wounds it had collected and was moving sluggishly. Bubbles mixed with blood as the Italian seemed to be screaming underwater.
Clamping his hand over the Italians mouth, America's heart melted when he saw the relief that flooded the Italians eyes. Italy tried to grab him, but America blocked him and shook his head, trying to smile reassuringly to the timid man. The hero was here-never fear! Giving him a thumbs up, he swam ahead. He had a plan.
Creeping up to the creature's face, America saw what he had been expecting. A giant luminescent eye. If he could just get close enough to punch it's lights out…
The creature seemed to notice the presence of the nation and turned its giant eye to America, studying him. Chills. The eye was bigger than the he was! It was like looking into a mirror. In the dim bioluminescence, America could see himself in the dilated iris. How frightened his eyes looked, staring back at himself. The feeling of dread intensified, what was this? What was this monster doing to him?
Before his eyes, a metal version of the Stars and Stripes floated. His dog tag! It turned, reflecting his eyes.
A. Jones
United States of America
No, shake that fear from your bones! Italy was counting on him! He was Alfred F-ing Jones. No oversized sushi roll was going to reduce him to a crying, frightened child!
Shaking off anxiety, America pulled his arm back and punched with all his might. The density of the water prevented his full strength from hitting the beast. But like a torpedo, he was able to plant the hit with a respectable amount of force-disrupting his reflection.
Vibrations churned the water. The beast was crying. It's arms released Italy as it sped away deeper into the sea. Swimming to collect the smaller nation, America kept an eye on where the monster disappeared, unsure if it planned on returning. Taking Italy into his arms, America noticed that his eyes, though still open, were beginning to close. It wasn't likely that he would die so quickly, but he needed to get him back to the surface.
Looking back up, America realized just how deeply he had dove. The water around him looked deep green and the sky was still a deep violet-or at least that's how it looked. Flashes of yellow burst every now and again, filling the water with grotesque silhouettes of skeletal fish all around. What were they?
A sick feeling of dread filled his chest. Welcome to wonderland.
With one last look down, to be sure the creature was not plotting to drag him back down as soon as he began his assent, America stopped cold. There was another person down there.
A woman. An hourglass figure, illuminated by the lighting. Medium length hair fanning around her and large eyes looking back at him. She seemed to be trapped by some unseen barrier, trying to get to him. He couldn't leave her! What if she had survived the distress calls, what if she could tell them what had happened?!
He looked to the nation resting on his chest. Crap! Italy's eyes were completely shut. He wouldn't die, right?!
It was a long way to the surface. Could he carry both up and still fight off anything the might attack them? Looking back up, he saw figures heading towards him. Now?!
As they came closer, he realized that he knew these figures. Germany and Canada were coming to help. Swimming to meet them, America passed Italy back into Germany with a nod. The German nodded back and began the ascent. Canada went to follow, but stopped when America swam back down.
America waved Canada off, he needed to make sure Germany would make it up to the surface. Reluctantly his twin swam up, but not without a stern look. He was expected at the surface as soon as possible. America nodded and gave a thumbs up. Satisfied, Canada followed Germany.
Okay, now for the girl. Diving deeper, America reached to girl and flashed her a smile. He was a hero, she had nothing to fear. She smiled back and reached out a hand to him. America, took it and gently tried to pull her up.
The girl's eyes opened wide as she shook her head wildly, pointing down over and over. Confused, America looked down. All he could see what the dim glow of what was likely phosphorescent plants.
Oh! America shook his head and pointed up. The girl was confused, she thought the surface was that way. Pulling the girl toward him, America was determined to bring her to the surface but was surprised with the girl pulled back. She was strong! Very strong for a human! But he was bigger and used his size to his advantage, using leverage to pull the girl up.
There was a sudden flash. Startled, America released the girl's hand in recoil. Had she just tried to electrocute him? Or had it been…something else?
Looking up, America could see that the entire surface of the sea was alight with the weird yellow lightning. He hoped Mattie, Germany, and Italy hadn't been caught in that.
More yellow flashes started coming faster, even within the water. Okay, that was freaky. Time for everyone to get out of the pool!
Looking to the girl, she was floating aimlessly, apparently knocked unconscious by the electrical charge. Uh oh. He needed to get her to the surface-fast.
Clutching the girl to his chest, America kicked as quickly as he could. Don't die, don't die, he prayed. Luckily, the mysterious fish seemed to stay away from the country and his passenger. The only time he thought he might have trouble was when a large black shark with glowing green eyes began to circle around them midway up before darting away into the dark waters. Not good, it would likely be back. At least the tentacled creature seemed to be gone for good.
After an eternity and a day, he broke the surface. Panting in the crisp salty air as he looked to the girl. She sputtered, eyes still closed, but alive-definitely alive.
"Oh, Thank God!" Alfred tucked the girl's honey-blonde head under his chin, relieved.
"Alfred!" Britain called, waving from a lifeboat a few feet away. "Oh, thank heavens!" Also in the boat were Canada, Germany, and Italy, all dripping wet and wrapped in blankets.
Swimming over to the boat, America chuckled. "We did it!"
"Shut up and get in the boat!" England snarled. He must've been really worried if he were acting so hostile now.
"Okay, okay." America laughed. "But first, here." He lifted the girl from the water and handed her to Britain.
"America...where did you..?" Canada asked, helping Britain pull the girl into the boat.
"She was under the water," America shrugged, taking Britain's hand and pulling himself into the boat.
"Is she one of the ones from the distress signal?" Germany asked, trying to towel off Italy's hair, much to the amusement of the Italian.
"I dunno, I guess we'll have to wait till she wakes up." America sighed, accepting a blanket from the German as the Brit began to row the boat back to the ship.
Canada was studying the girl, eyes wide. "A-Alfred?"
America hummed. "Yeah, dude, what's up?"
"Did you notice anything strange about this girl?" He asked, checking her over for broken bones and seeming relieved at not having found anything.
"Mmmm…" America thought for a moment. "Man, there was a lot of strange shiz down there. Could you be more specific?" He stretched his aching muscles. "Other than finding her underwater, she was probably the least weird thing that happened down there."
"Really?" Canada deadpanned. He picked up the girl and rested her against his chest. "Look."
At first America didn't see anything wrong. Then, his skin began to tingle. What the fresh hell?
The girl, clothed in a beige mini skirt and white crop top, was also wearing a brown bomber jacket-one with a large, white number 50 on the back. When had he put his jacket on the girl? Looking down, America's heart skipped a beat. How was he still wearing his jacket?
Looking from his jacket to the one that the girl was wearing was...odd. "What the f-"
"And that's not all," Canada continued, taking a pendant from the girl's neck. He tossed it over to America, who palmed it easily.
Opening his hand, America felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. It was a dog tag...with the Stars and Stripes… Hand trembling, he turned the thin piece of metal over. Sure enough, it had an inscription:
A. Jones
United States of America
Numb, America didn't react when Britain took the metal from his hand and didn't move when he compared it to the metal still hanging from the American's neck. "What the devil...they're exactly the same…" he glanced to the shocked country. "I thought you had these made specially for us…"
"I did." America muttered, shaking his head. "They're supposed to be one of a kind."
They reached the ship and though it had been damaged by the earlier attack. It still seemed able to pull the lifeboats back on board. France threw the chains down to England who quickly attached them to either end of the boat.
Once securely attached, Russia hit the button that made the ship retract the chains and pull the boat from the water. Not that America even acknowledged what was going on, his thoughts were still swimming from the creature to the strange messages and finally to the mysterious girl he had pulled from the sea.
Mattie, now cradling the girl, took her on board the ship; followed by Germany and Italy. America's legs felt like lead. He just wasn't sure if it was from exhaustion or shock.
A hand ran through his hair. Snapping his eyes up, America saw England standing before him. "Come on, poppet," he coaxed gently, "brooding about it isn't going to solve anything. We'll get to the bottom of this." He extended a hand to the young country.
Taking England's hand, America stood and smiled. "Yeah, you're right."
Getting out of the boat the nations met in the small sick bay where the mysterious girl had been taken. She had been stripped of her clothes and was now sleeping on the infirmary bed in a plain white nightgown.
"You changed her clothes?!" America exclaimed, looking at France and Russia, feeling very violated on the girl's behalf.
Canada frowned, "I did. We couldn't keep her in soaking wet clothes."
Tsking, America nodded, somewhat placated that his twin had been the one to take care of the girl's dressing.
"Who is she and what was she doing out here?" Russia asked, turning to America.
"That's...a good question," America sighed. "We'll have to wait till she wakes up to find out."
Thank you for taking the time to read the beginning of my second work Lost Between Worlds. It has been a project I've been contemplating for some time.
Let me know what you think ;P
If/when I continue this story is up in the air. I do plan on completing my Rock Star AU fiction before continuing work on this one, but we'll see.
Follows, Favorites, and Reviews are always welcomed. It gives me a good idea on how this work has been received and what needs some work.
Anyways, Happy Independence Day, Americans!
Till next time!