Prologue
June 6, Year 2815. The New Order - or what remained of Russia's little gang - had invaded Africa, and the United States were retaliating with nuclear warheads at the order of President K. Turner, seeing as Vice President Logan Taylor had somehow managed to convince the entire senate and the House of Representatives with his devilish words! Hell, even Alfred was entranced, and he hated his bosses!
Though since Vice President Logan was President Turner's lap dog and the one to get his hands dirty, she kept her polished political career in high regards. The American people loved their leaders even if Alfred thought they were just as maniacal as that fucking commie, if not worse! Alfred bit his bottom lip as he heard the missiles launch. The United American States personified saw the screens in the Oval Office light up as satellite images showed the growing mushroom cloud as E.D.G.A.R. destroyed all of Africa, with the exception of Egypt - this was more luck than anything, rather than a sign of mercy, and not even all of the country escaped unscathed.
E.D.G.A.R. was the anagram for Early Disaster Guard and Reconciliation. It was worse then the atomic bomb; it's fury equaled - no, it outshone that of the tragedy of Pompeii from centuries previous, or more recently of Hiroshima back in the twentieth century. His boss was fascinated with the natural disaster that destroyed an entire town.
She - President Turner - had giggled when questioned by Alfred over her constant references to the Italian settlement long since turned to ash and dust, merely citing that some of her early fascination came from her days of schooling in Houston, Texas; that was where she had met Vice President Taylor. He had smiled agreeably and said,
"Yes! I remember when you first got started on that; you even set fire to, er, what's-his-face, J-something? Well, whoever it was, you set fire to his house if I remember correctly, and it was pretty amazing!" Oh yes, Taylor certainly took his chance to be the ever-present bootlicker, or sneaker licker seeing as that was all his admittedly eccentric boss would wear. Alfred had even asked why they had named the project E.D.G.A.R., and President Turner had in turn gestured to Vice President Logan, who was filing his nails. The ravenette had raised his caramel colored eyes to Alfred's own sky blue and said sweetly, as though he hadn't condemned millions of lives to an agonizing death,
"Edgar Allen Poe is my favorite writer." At this Alfred sneered. He left the office, slamming the door. Alfred walked outside and completely ignored everyone as they pleaded for him to wear his Air-Purifier, but what did it matter? The air his citizens breathed is the air that circulates his lungs. Alfred finally stopped at a pond.
The water sources had been covered in large domes made out of the very same chemicals which spider silk is made from. It allows light to filter in without but is stronger then steel. He sighed and entered the structure. He sat on a park bench and looked around at the peaceful scene.
His eyes slipped closed as he remembered all the fun running with his states in their rural towns, enjoying the wind and smells. Days of driving on Route 66 were gone now that the bullet train had been installed. He growled and opened his eyes as his phone went off.
"What?!" He snapped into the phone, but found himself apologizing profusely at hearing the cracking voice of his former caretaker,
"Arthur... What's wrong? Wh-" he was cut off by a sob. Why was Arthur crying? It was hard to make the island nation cry.
"I just called..." The statement was cut off by a harsh hiss and another sob, "Goodbye Alfred... I just want you to know, you'll always be my precious little angel.." And with that there was nothing but a loud siren followed by nothing.
Tears came to Alfred's eyes and he stood. He ran to the Pentagon, giving his badge to security, he ran to the video surveillance room and there on screen was a charred and destroyed England. He had it zoom in closer and saw his former caretaker disappear into dust. He dropped to his knees. Tears spilling from his eyes but no sound came out. Until the sound of Japanese words reached his ears.
He looked over at the screen to see a video conference with Japan himself. He ran over,
"Japan! We'll send help-" he was cut off by the smiling black haired nation.
"I am afraid it is to late Alfred... I... I just wanted to thank you for all the help you have given me and my people over the years..." The image of the nation on the screen was one of sadness and pure terror.
"Please don't... Don't, Kiku..." But it was too late.
"Goodbye Alfred," he said and the screen went blank.
The map flashed red and the images shown made him fall to his knees. He screamed in frustration and openly sobbed, falling to the floor and curled in on himself. It didn't matter how pathetic he looked to his people.
He heard the familiar soft pad of sneakers accompanied by the harsh click of cowboy boots. There was a tsk and a sharp command of,
"Retaliate immediately. Hit South America, destroy it all."
"But, but Madam President! What about Cuba?" One of the men questioned in open shock. The response was swift,
"Collateral damage."
Alfred stood on shaky knees. He glared at her and walked. "America! Where are you going?"She asked.
"Project Portal," He replied to which she snapped,
"No you're not! Jones, that is an order! Get back here!" To which he gave a one fingered salute and stated loudly,
"I don't give a fuck, bitch!" He said and went to his house. Alfred entered the storage room he never wanted to enter again and began packing. The toy soldiers were wrapped and carefully put them in the bag. He packed several packets of seeds he had hidden in the room. The bag held many things that would prove useful.
He then went to his shed, he put a shovel, hoe, rake, and old fashioned sickle with his musket and ammunition.
Alfred made his way to his office and computer. He printed off schematics of early farm equipment and electricity, the plans to build ships from the 1800s, blueprints for firearms throughout history and maps of ancient lands. Those papers were neatly packed in his suitcase.
His next stop was the library. Alfred grabbed several books, and seeing one detailing his Civil War Alfred swore to himself that it wouldn't happen again.
The front door grew closer as he left his house. He threw his bags in the back of his car and drove to the old abandoned NASA research centre.
He pushed open the door and made his way to the door he had tried but failed miserably to forget. Project Portal, it was a time machine, it had launched two missions, the first hadn't been successful but the second had.
President Jared Holliday had declared it to dangerous and NASA was officially shut down.
He loaded his bags into the machine and got in himself. He dusted off the machine and flicked on the power. The machine roared to life but had quickly shut off. He got out and set to work flipping switches reconnecting wires and getting a bit greasy.
He sat beneath the machine and mumbled to himself as he fixed the circuits. There was a flash of sparks and the machine whirred to life once more. He pulled out from underneath and stood right as a crash was made.
There, standing in the door, was President Turner and her lackey Taylor. He jumped into the machine, frantically inserting a random time and hitting the go button.
The machine whirred loudly and in a flash of light Alfred was transported to the middle of a field. He looked around and got out. The machine died meaning he wouldn't be able to return - as if he wanted to! He took a deep breath and smiled at the sweet Spring air. A huge grin split a cross his face and he jumped up and then laid back in the long grass. He rolled around laughing his head off and turned over into his stomach.
He took to a handful of soil and smelt it. He had been without this smell for two hundred years and he was happy to have it back.
He opened his eyes to find a spear in face. He placed the soil back and raised his hands.
