Hello everyone! This is Yuzume again, yes… yes, I disappeared from existence for the second time. As you all know reality does take up quite a bit of time. I not only graduated, but I have just finished a move all the way from Europe back to the United States. I have been trying to get It Takes Two to Play the Game restarted, but it's a slow process and I'm scared not many people will be willing to read it after so long. Of course while I've been trying to get my creative juices flowing, I've started a number of APH fics lately. I think this last move and year of high school shook my confidence as a writer.
Summary: It began with the bombings in Washington DC, then the revolts in 48 of his states, soon it looked like the Civil War all over again… until someone attacked the United States with a nuclear weapon. It seemed impossible. No one expected the United States to fall. No one expected him not to even cry for help when it happened let alone close every contact imaginable. No one came to his rescue.
It's only now that we've come to see what my brother's become.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the web series Axis Powers Hetalia and am not making any profit from this story. This is also not a work to be taken seriously, any references made that may seem offensive do not reflect the relations of reality or of the author, Yuzume Mikien.
Title: The White Amidst the Splattered Red and Faded Blue
Author: Y. T. Mikien
Pairings: None. I'm taking this story to a gruesomely realistic level at how nations interact with each other. You might see hints of some, but nothing too strong.
Rating: Mature
Warnings: References of war, apocalyptic occurrences, graphic occurrences, character death, and a slight reference to America being a parent to all his states, which might mean mpreg… if you squint
Genre: Anguish, Drama
This new story was a simple idea of mine, but I'm feeling uncertain about it. I hope you will all leave a review and if I get enough positive feedback about it, I'll try to continue.
Shot One: Red, White, and Blue Lies Dead In the Wind
POV: Canada (Matthew Williams)
There was nothing. A desolate wasteland of absolutely nothing. There was no snow. There was no blood, no sign that half a million people had been wiped off the face of the Earth in just one place or that millions more were dead or dying in numerous other locations all over the country. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't believe that this area flattened by three atomic blasts could represent so much death and destruction.
Maybe it was that shock that kept me from crying.
He had always told me that I was too passive… that instead of merely standing around crying I should fight, but now, when it actually mattered. When no one was left to mourn; I couldn't even get myself to feel the sadness of loss. He was my brother and yet I could not shed my tears for him.
Why?
"…..nada….Matthe…..are….there….?" The sound of static reached my ears while sounding completely alien in such a silent place. The exact location that the bombs had hit showed no signs of life, but for some reason I was there looking, hoping. Coarse dust covered the frozen ground, the remains of the buildings that once stood around me were destroyed and only small pieces were left. I gazed around grasping how nothing had survived the impact of the blasts. Nothing. There really was nothing. "….Matthew….I…. epeat…Where….ar…you?"
The walkie-talkie was difficult to reach in my full uniform. It was strapped down low against my hips, but passed the machine gun slung over my chest, the heavy pack, filled with medical supplies now useless, which made it hard to bend over, and the thick gloves that protected my hands from the cold that came with the battle gear I so rarely wore, the walkie-talkie was just barely out of reach. I could only sigh in frustration, my words stolen by the thousands of souls I knew had died where I stood, before unclipping and dropping the pack on my back to the ground, displacing dust that might have once been a human being into the gentle wind. I finally took hold of the large object, holding it awkwardly in my gloved hands. It took me a while before I found the button to answer.
"I'm here, Arthur… Ground zero… Where are you? You're breaking up." My voice, resurrected in a cloud of breath, sounded too small-too lonely.
"…What?... Are you…ure?...Matthew… the…. hreat… of radiation." Like it mattered. Why would radiation harm a living country? It was the bombs that did it. It was the bombs that really killed people... that killed nations.
Like my brother.
No one expected that something like would happen. No one thought that something like this could happen to a superpower, to the United States of America no less. The one day no one paid him any attention, an unidentified plane dropped three atomic bombs onto the Capital, obliterating it as well as everything else within a certain radius in three easy explosions. Alfred had no warning before hand. We received no warning. It happened as quickly as the attack on his World Trade Center but at a whole different level. There was death and there was destruction, but my brother had been there to wipe the blood that dripped from his nose and to nurse his son, New York, while swearing to take his revenge. Now, was different. There was no America to stumble down the street holding a bloodied side. There were was no state calling for help or crying for his or her parent. There wasn't even a citizen lying in the midst of wreckage begging for mercy or death.
Where was my brother?
"Canada. Can you hear me?" The reception on the walkie-talkie had cleared, maybe Arthur had left whatever shelter he had found and was standing outside. I glanced down at the bulky object in my grasp.
"Yeah." I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to hear my voice being embraced by the silence of my surroundings.
"Good. I need you to stay there for me, all right? I was informed that Russia is nearby. I need you to keep an eye on him… just in case."
Three atomic bombs weren't the only thing that had fallen. Whoever had ordered such an attack (some, like Arthur, think Ivan, others, like Ivan, do not point fingers) had not given America time to react before a bomb in each state Capital exploded and further crippled the Union. The attacks had so disoriented him as well as the rest of us nations that no one expected the other nuclear bombs to go off. No one was ready for complete desolation. No one was ready for the United States to literally become obsolete.
There was no country in the world that had so much firepower. There was no country in the world that hated Alfred so much. Except Him. Except Ivan. Except Russia.
But… Yet… Russia was just as surprised as the rest of us. He didn't speak much, which might be why no one believed it was true, but he was in shock. Not even he would go to such lengths.
Arthur was one of those who didn't believe. Emotion clouded his vision and made his suspicions rise. When the remaining militaries of the world touched American soil, he was already telling me, warning me to not let Russia out of sight. England was so certain Ivan had been the one to take away the child whom Arthur could not stop loving. He was ready to declare war and take revenge. If it hadn't been for my grasp to hope he might've done just that.
A flake of snow fell unto the walkie-talkie, making me glance up at the gray sky. The snow was beginning to come down now coating the ground in a layer of ice, an unofficial burial. I heard England speak once more, but did not listen. He was trying to explain his suspicions but he was becoming more and more aware that the situation was much more complicated than a fulfilled grudge. As Ivan neither admitted his actions nor denied the sights that played out before us in my brother's home, he wasn't making it easy for anyone.
Besides, it wasn't time to accuse a fellow nation; it was time to find him, my brother… or what was left.
The Chinese, Korean, and Japanese armies had arrived on the Western Coast, calculating the damage that had occurred there. Russian, English, French, and German troops were coming on shore from the East, looking for the nation once known as the USA. I came from the North, searching and hoping that Alfred would appear jumping out of his hiding place and laughing at all of us for falling for his stupid joke.
One week has passed since the first international occupation of the United States of America and still, we have found nothing.
"Are you still there, Matthew?" I didn't want to answer him anymore. It was getting too cold to stand in one place for very long. "Have you seen him yet?"
I remained silent. Why did I need to answer him? What was the point? Who cared if the Russian was nearby? What difference would it have made if he did appear before me, wandering around this wasteland that had become of the land of free and home of the brave? There was nothing here for him. If he had wanted to make such an impact, he wouldn't have obliterated everything in sight. Ivan would have kept Alfred alive… death would have been too kind.
The Russian appeared without another second's notice. His figure blemishing the white horizon as he walked towards me, eyes downcast and following his silent steps through the dust and snow. I placed the walkie-talkie away and picked up my pack, the sound making him look up and slow. We held mute while we shortened the gap between us and it wasn't until I could see the black of his pupils did I stop.
Silence. That's all a Russian like him and a Canadian like me could exchange. We were never on speaking terms. He rarely considered me when I was around, especially with Alfred loudly yelling behind me at meetings or anywhere we were together. Now that my brother wasn't here, he had no choice but to look to my face for a split second and say:
"There are no bodies…" He did not look me in the eye. There was no threat in his voice, happiness in his words, or sadness in tone, as he gazed indifferently at the sky and the ground for there was nothing else he could look at. Maybe there was surprise hidden underneath the way he held himself in his uniform, holding the rifle in his hands so tightly they had become white. He wasn't wearing gloves and he didn't seem to mind the freezing temperatures.
"There is nothing left." I echoed the thoughts I had possessed long before he had appeared. This made him move, lifting one appendage from his weapon and place it gently on the fur cap that he wore. He withdrew it slowly before sighing long and hard.
"Did you… know where he was when… it… happened?"
I stared at him. Was this concern genuine? Or was it merely the shared empathy that a country was obliged to feel when something so horrible happened to another nation? I shook my head, "I… I don't know… I wish I did. I… really do wish… I knew."
I don't know if he had heard me. The wind had increased, raising dust and who knows what else up into the air. Ivan had begun to walk, not even showing he had acknowledged anything I had said. Of course I'm not my brother so I did not try to catch his attention, but followed obediently.
We held our guns tightly while we walked. There was no reason to hold them, but for some reason we needed to protect ourselves from the chance that the same thing that had happened to my brother happened again. I kept close for in the rising wind it was becoming harder to hear. The wandering continued until the dust covered ground turned into dust covered grass, and fog obscured the world that it was difficult to see. This didn't stop Russia. He kept walking and I kept following for what seemed like hours.
Nations do not tire. If the sky had not darkened, I was sure Ivan would have continued without rest. The longer I accompanied him, the more I understood his intentions. He had to come in terms with it. He, like the rest of us, could not grasp that reality of having a fellow super power so easily killed. Ivan had spent four decades viewing Alfred as the adversary he could not harm, but now, that same rival was nowhere in sight.
About six inches of snow had fallen from the time he had started this journey. Russia had not muttered a thing. I wasn't about to complain though, I had never been a talker myself. We shared the silence and the ability to withstand the cold in common, but that was all. If we were forced to use our guns, I knew he'd be able to kill while I could only watch.
Suddenly he stopped; I nearly crashing into him.
In the fog were shadows. Shadows of crosses that disappeared into the Earth-bound cloud. The crosses were as white as the snow-covered ground, but their silhouettes were easy to distinguish.
"Arlington." Surprise was not easily hidden by my voice, as realization hit me that we had somehow found a way to travel so far as to reach America's Arlington National Cemetery. The bombs had luckily not reached the graves, the hill where the home of a famous Confederate General had made his residence had survived the aftershock of the blasts. Turning to the Russian, I opened my mouth to speak before abruptly gagging, the smell of decay reaching my nose.
I did not know what was worse, the presence of death or the lack of. Eyes watering at the disgusting scent, I barely saw Ivan cock his head in recognition. Decay meant a death. Death meant there was a body or bodies nearby. Bodies meant the previous existence of life.
Life.
Someone had survived this catastrophe.
Who knows why I bolted, but before I realized what I was doing, I was moving ahead. My steps increased in speed and I found myself running in a random direction. Ivan chose to follow me, our roles switched as I led with the sound of his footsteps breaking into the frozen ground behind me. The stench of death was rising as I ran further. There was no way anyone could have lived through all of this and had the sympathy to drag bodies to this place for burial.
Except Alfred.
The smell had gotten so strong; I was blinded by both the fog and such a smell. Aside from this, I kept moving. I was following death's tracks and I was not going to lose it.
I tripped.
The dirt was fresh even when covered with a layer of snow. I got up as best I could, quickly jumping up and away from the mound that I had fallen onto. I knocked into Ivan behind me with a yelp, with which he returned with a curious gaze. We had found the source of the stench. A freshly covered grave lay before us. In it, a body was decomposing very quickly. For some reason the smell was as strong as ever, but with another step it increased tenfold. "What the he-" I grabbed my nose and mouth. There was too much death around us, when only hours earlier there had been nothing. Behind me, even Russia had flinched.
The extreme scent meant that more than one body had been buried in the surrounding area. I took a few steps passed it and through the fog there was another mound… and passed that, another. Ivan did not need to be told what to do. He disappeared into the fog, leaving me alone.
When he returned, he spoke after his hours-long silence. "48."
I tried to calm myself and push the nausea away, "48? Wait, what?"
"Graves." He replied softly. "There are 48 fresh graves."
Stiffening, I returned my gaze onto the mound I stood in front of. It was barely visible through the fog and the darkening day, but at the other edge was another silhouette of a cross, white like all the others. I bended over, nose finally becoming accustomed to the stench of 48 decaying bodies. There was something scribbled on the marker, in red. My eyes narrowed as I read the name out loud. "Virginia."
Recognition hit me so hard it made my head spin. I rushed to the next grave and found its cross, my voice echoing out into the air once more, "Maryland."
I stumbled to the next, "New Hampshire."
And the next, "Delaware."
And the next, "New York."
I tried to look to the Russian, but he was gone again. I heard his quick steps through the snow and knew he was reading every white cross, keeping a wary eye out for the name, "Alaska."
We were looking at states, the graves of American states, and we were smelling them decomposing below us. I didn't try to stop myself from gagging and letting the bile rise into my throat along with whatever I had eaten that day. I vomited, gasping and retching until I had nothing left.
Alfred's children. His pride and joy, buried in a bunch of quickly dug shallow graves. My face was wet before I knew it, especially after seeing the markers with the names of children I knew had been mine as well as his. Dead, all of them dead.
48 crosses and graves later, I came across Russia again. In one hand he held what appeared to be a shovel and in the other was a set of familiar glasses. Shock filled my face and I did not hide it, but he held the shovel up first,"Look. There is blood." The handle of the tool was covered in it and if I had anything else to vomit I would have, but I could only swallow my burning throat. Whoever had buried these bodies had not ceased doing so until the very end, even when his skin had broken open. "These… are broken."
The glasses were shattered, symbolizing more than just the death of Texas. Ivan motioned to a mound before us, where he had found both, and on closer inspection I found the cross heading the final grave nameless aside from the smeared "T" that appeared on its surface. I had come to the conclusion that the names had been painted in blood, but with the 48th state there had been no energy left even to spell out the word "Texas".
Taking the spectacles from him in trembling hands, I tried to absorb what this meant. What the graves, the bloody shovel, and the broken glasses had meant. Only two of the fifty American states had survived, the distant Hawaii and Alaska, but with this event, I wasn't surprised if they too had fallen into chaos. I tried to hold back the sobs that threatened to take over my body, but I was shaking uncontrollably and didn't care if Russia was watching me. Was this really the end? Was my brother really gone for good?
The crunch of snow made Ivan and me stiffen, spinning in our spots in direction of the sound. Our guns were aimed in no time, though I was certain that I wasn't going to be shooting anything. I understood the glance Russia gave me, staying silent and creeping behind him as we headed for the source of the sound. We saw the tree, the charred remnants of the American flag hanging from its lowest branch…and under it…
…the body, almost half covered in snow…of the United States of America.
Done. There you have it. My new darker story. I hope you enjoyed reading it and hope for more. If you do then please leave a review. I'm going to say that if I don't see at least ten reviews for this first chapter, I won't continue it. So it's all on you readers.
Thank you for reading the first chapter. It was depressing, but that was the jist of the story anyway.
Next Time (If there is one): Death is everywhere, but has it already reached the would-be hero so early in his life? Only Canada and Russia have the ability to find out, but if America is still alive, how will the nations come together to save the Super Power, if they actually choose to save him.
Review please. I won't continue this unless I get ten reviews. Simple task, yes?