England had just came in to his room. He had been a long time at sea and he was happy that he could finally sleep in his own bed. But he was also slightly saddened because he was not with the little America. He sometimes missed the child but he had to let him live on his own for a while.
He got ready for bed shedding his black as night with gold trimmed pirate jacket. He loved this jacket it made him look powerful, intimidating, and an I'm-going-to-kick-your-ass-easily type look. He also took off his hat with a snow white feather sticking out of it. When he had fought France and Spain on the seas he had stolen the feather from the Frenchman. Hanging both of them up then taking off his shirt slowly. He had gotten stabbed in his shoulder and shot near his waist. It had been bandaged but it still hurt sometimes. He also took off his pants getting into bed. He did not take off his eye patch though.
There was a raging storm that night but the Brit slept soundly. He was used to sleeping in storms on the seas so this was nothing to him. The clouds smashed its raindrops on the windows and had deadly electro-charged lights coloring the sky with loud crashes to be herd miles around. Then England heard something different on the large window in his room. A slight squealing sound as iron nails scratch on the window. It kept going. The Brit did not want to get up he was tired and he did not really care. If anyone broke in he had knives from his belt on his side table and he had his beloved pistol under his pillow.
He kept this close, since the Spaniard and the "Freanchy" hated him the Brit did not know when they were going to attack.
He reached on to his bedside table for his knives getting ready for a surprise attack. The with in the window a flash of lightning confirmed the Brit's suspicion. A silhouette of a person crouching was flashed before his eyes before vanishing from sight. The another flash and crash of thunder and lightning and the window exploded from some unknown force shattering the large window in to thousands of shards, it was raining glass around the room for a couple of seconds as Britain was cut on the face by several of the lager pieces that fell on the bed. As quick in one fluid movement the Brit jumped up letting the covers fly up to be a distraction landing gingerly on his feet throwing the knives at the blanket as it fell with such force making the blanket become like a net.
The emerald eyed Brit thought that he had gotten the person but there was a big ripping noise and the blanket was sliced and pinned against the wall with no one in it. Britain still had two of his throwing knifes left before he was forced to use his gun. The Brit preferred his sword to his gun. The silver cold as ice blade was in its scabbard that was with his coat across the room was not safe to retrieve.
The silhouette appeared again standing on the other side of the room, slowly gliding toward him. In a few quick movements Britain had thrown his last defense aimed with extreme caution. No one would be able to dodge these he thought smirking then his face drained of color and his new found confidence as the silhouette just turned from sided to side with ease not even having one of the knives even touch it. The figure in another flash of lightning jumped and the next thing that the Brit knew was that it was on top of the Brit pinning the ferociously squirming man down.
