Author's Notes and Disclaimer:

This is a prequel and prologue story to all the other Hetalia/1983: Doomsday crossover tales, taking place in a world after a nuclear apocalypse erupted in the 1980s (so far, through Austria's perspective). But this particular fic is set during that fateful day in 1983, just the nuclear nightmare later known as Doomsday is underway, with the focus on America and his role in bringing it about. It felt fitting to present a sympathetic interpretation of his actions while at the same time justifying why much of the world still resent his memory well into the events of One Unexpected Day several years down the line (and why Austria himself wanted a chance to strangle him in A Symphony for a New World). If there are any warnings here, given the story's decidedly darker tone, it's on the cursing and strong implications of death and destruction.

Also, the events described are based on the 1983: Doomsday history articles. But as with the rest of the stories, they're not 100% "by-the-book" to the source material though they're kept as close idea-wise as possible. The Doomsday Clock is a real life symbol meant to represent how close humanity is to nuclear annihilation, with "Midnight" being the end. While Mutually Assured Destruction is a real life Cold War concept that basically stated that if the Americans and Soviets were to nuke one another, both would be destroyed.

That said, I hope you enjoy reading this!

I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia or 1983: Doomsday. All rights belong to their respective owners.

An American Twilight

Or, A 1983 Doomsday Tale through a Nation's Eyes

Undisclosed location outside Washington D.C. 26 September 1983.

"Mr. Jones?" one of the military officers in the control room muttered, his voice barely audible amidst the alarms. "NORAD...their last transmission said that there's no way to stop the nukes."

Damn you, Ivan...America sneered in his head he attempted give an assuring, though somber smile. "How much time do we have, Captain Richards?"

"About 10 minutes at most, sir. Possibly less. President Reagan should be far out of D.C. by now. But I can't say the same for everyone..."

The middle-aged man kept droning on in forced professionalism as the panic all around them gradually turned to exhausted, silent resignation. Before them, the screens displayed ominously glowing lines and dots moving ever closer to their targets. As Alfred tried to straighten out the bomber jacket he still had on over his suit, he recalled something on what his scientists called the Doomsday Clock. And it was a few seconds to Midnight. There was no denying it, even for someone as high and mighty as the United States of America himself: they fucked up. No point regretting it now, is there?

It just seemed too unbelievable. Even the incident with Cuba didn't escalate this quickly, let alone for such a seemingly insignificant reason. What began with one Soviet officer's claims of a nuclear attack had led to the entire USSR declaring war and launching everything they had, which in turn forced Alfred and the rest of NATO to do exactly the same. All the while FEMA and the National Guard were making hasty efforts to evacuate as many people as possible, even if many of those were ultimately too little, too late. It wasn't supposed to be like this!

The Nation felt all these happening inside him at once as he tried pacing through the room, glancing occasionally at images of missiles and bombers on the verge of hitting home. Boston. New York. Washington. Chicago. Los Angeles. America wondered in increasing pain how many of his towns and cities, as well as the people living there would die for all this, whether it be from the first flashes, fallout or the complete chaos that would follow. He thought of how many of his brave soldiers may already be dying in battlefields around the world. Of the many lives, both human and Nation alike, whose death warrants he had already signed with the push of a button. The very idea of England, Canada and his other friends being killed, all because of a stupid mistake from a Russian. They'll all be gone...damn them. Fuck it, DAMN THEM! Yet deep down, he wondered if Russia was thinking the same at that very moment. And for the first and possibly last time, he didn't know what to do.

"Five minutes before impact...is anything wrong, sir?"

The sudden jolt from Richards startled Alfred back to reality as he gave a weak semblance of his trademark smirk. "It's...nothing at all. Just wondering whether we did the right thing."

"Mutually Assured Destruction, Mr. Jones," the officer nodded in barely concealed sarcasm. "No point cursing whoever the hell thought of it. But at least we'll take those Commie sons of bitches out along with us, right?"

The normally upbeat blond nodded solemnly in agreement. There was barely any time left for regret anyway. He knew the bombs would likely remove whatever traces that a person named "Alfred F. Jones" ever existed. The rest of the world, or what's already left of it, may come to resent his memory as a Nation, as well as the American Dream for bringing about the apocalypse. But the memory, he convinced himself, would remain among the survivors. Even now, he could see it among the operators and officers around him. His people had faced so many trials before. Surely the Dream could endure even a nuclear winter. Even if I don't. The Nation forced back the urge to just cry and hug everyone, telling them that everything would be fine, as much as he wanted to. "I..."

"You did your best. We all did," he heard the officer interrupt, finally standing up to give a crisp salute. Before long, even as the alarms continued ringing over the chamber, the others did the same.

"But...after all this..."

"It's been an honor serving this country." In the face of the Bomb, their eyes still showed a glimmer of pride and resilience that had created the United States in the first place. At least in these moments and in their eyes, he was still the great hero and for him they would die as Americans. "God bless America."

The embodiment felt utterly overwhelmed, managing to give one radiant, youthful grin before the clock struck Midnight. And for the next two hours, almost everything he ever knew came to an end.

Yet even as billions of people and whole Nations died, whether immediately or in the aftermath, it was by no means the end of history. Those who survived found themselves before a shattered world. But even in certain parts that had largely escaped intact, some still suffered more than others...