A/N
I'm back, and with a freakin' TRIPLE UPDATE! (I thinks, I thinks…maybe for this story *weeps*) GUYS, BE…happy…not really, considering no one really wants me to write anyways XD;;
Of course, I expected WAY better writing from me, (high self-expectations), but I sucked. Writer's block is iffy. Areyshland Isles is going to be a pain; Terrible Thing is going to take quite a few more chapters before anything REALLY happens, and this…this makes absolutely no sense until way farther into it. It might not even make sense to anyone because it's within a group of my friends.
R&R! Thanks.
America screamed.
One pair of cold green eyes peered down at the defeated nation, America's own Desert Eagle held firmly in the opposing Terror's hand. This certain Germanic nation named Svaestria adjusted her low-lit sunglasses and trained her eyes on America's bleeding hand. She then began to examine the rusting Desert Eagle.
America could barely make out anything in front of him. He'd lost control, lost the battle to the Terrors, after all. One of his eyes was shut closed, since blood was dripping down that side of his forehead, and the other eye was just a bit open, the smoke preventing him from really seeing anything special. He just knew hell was going to break loose very soon.
Svaestria sighed, particularly annoyed. Something was obviously wrong…the plan was to have quietly infiltrated America's base, but it seemed Benland had changed those orders last minute. He'd been given proper authorization over her soldiers, after all, but this reckless assault had cost her quite a few elites. This was the problem about Benland, she thought bitterly. He never cared about his citizens; they were just cannon fodder to him, anyways. Replaceable. Easily made.
"So, America," She started, a smug smile making its way to her face, "I suggest you lay down any other arms," she gestured to his troops, "and surrender quietly. This way less carnage will happen, right?"
"Damn commie bastard," America spat at her feet. "You been working with that dude, what, Russia's old-ass government?"
"That wasn't a proper answer at all," Svaestria replied, slicking back her brilliant, blonde hair. She adjusted her tan officer's cap and glared down at America once more. "We're here for more than just this pathetic world domination—"
"Yeah, what's your pretty word for it? A bloody, goddamned freaking new generation? You violently replace all of us when you could've just weedled your way into supremacy like everyone else! Instead you try to kill us, and you didn't just succeed, you've corrupted it all! You say you've got a bureaucracy! Yeah, right! Just looks like another Stalin to me!"
Svaestria kept her cool, although it was obvious she was seething with rage inside. America noted this, a contempt feeling making its way to his chest. Take that, he grinned.
"Heya, Svae. Take it easy there." A young male's voice spoke from behind both countries. America rolled up his arms defensively, but Svaestria didn't even flinch.
"Who are you?" America demanded.
"My, my! You've forgotten me already." The voice replied, pretending to be hurt. "I can't believe ya forgot your poor son!"
America felt his throat constrict, and then violently coughed. I can't believe ya forgot your poor son! The phrase kept on repeating itself in his head. His son. He only had one son; one adopted son. That was Benland.
Benland laughed, now walking through the carnage around him, taking in the scenes of the dead and manually putting it away in his memory. His spiky-light brown hair was almost like Prussia's, only his eyes were more mischievous and gold. A pair of distinctive, sharp, and white horns stood on the top of his head, poking out of his hair. His shirt was black with white trimmings; it was the same with his pants. His stark-black shoes shined in the light, and his grin widened when he saw America gape at him. A picture of a golden pair with the Jewish star in the middle of it was displayed openly on his black shirt.
"Surprised? I wouldn't be. You've seen me a lot, right? Shouldn't my amazing appearance make you happy? Or are you sad, dad?"
America didn't answer.
"You know, dad," Benland continued, "I really liked you. But you aren't my dad, actually."
"That's right," America snapped. "Someone like you can't be the angel I thought you were going to be. You're not even a demon. You're just nothing."
Benland avoided America's stern but fatherly gaze. Something about it told him not to look. "You'll be nothing in no time," Benland hissed. "I'll take your place. I'll finally get people to look at me. They won't ignore me. They'll listen to me! They'll bow down to me when I walk in front of them! They'll be the ones kissing my feet!"
"What about England?" America heard Svaestria's strained whisper.
Benland suddenly went quiet.
"What about him?" America responded angrily. "You killed him! I didn't—"
"Shut up." Benland kicked at the ground in front of America.
"Oh, you're feeling guilty!" America was on a roll now, he wasn't going to stop. "So the monster of a nation can actually feel remorse! How absolutely ironic, you nasty piece of garbage! You're just another bastard waiting to be killed by another generation—"
"I am a bastard," Benland said. "You didn't marry anyone. Yet I was still born."
"You won't know about England," Svaestria ignored the previous three statements. "He felt exactly like you right now when you decided to claim your freedom."
"How would you know?" America snarled.
"Because I'm about one thousand years older than you."
…
"What?"
"What about the eagle we left behind?" Tom stared at his two marching friends quizzically. Previously, they'd met an odd eagle that spoke to them telepathically about some sort of riddle. Now, they were stuck in the situation of trying to find the answer to it, and his two stubborn, hard-headed friends were already trying to find out what it meant.
"Skeleton's lost gestures in the Americas of A end with an R
Leading to the cardverse's whisper
Sylvia, of the broken hearts;
Aaron, of the crying clubs;
Benjamin, of the warring spades;
Find who has begun
Who has ended
And bring back what has started.
The cards have been played
But the deck remains untouched
Which will you choose?
Tip the HAT
Follow the bleeding loop to your destination
Follow, follow, follow the Axis." Alice repeated the riddle.
"What does 'skeleton's lost gestures in the Americas of A end with an R' mean?" Henry sighed, exasperated. "Makes absolutely no sense!"
"Well, let's see," Alice replied, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, "A skeleton, so someone who's dead, maybe. Lost gestures could be someone trying to make up with someone else, but failing. In America, obviously means it was in here, or maybe South America. But then they say 'of A'. Of A might mean over here, because North and South America don't start with an A, and since we're mainly referred to as America, and South always has South in front of it, it's in the USA. End with an R? I've no idea, though."
"That made almost no sense." Henry stated once more. "You lost me around the part about 'In America'."
"Okay, the Americas. Who's got a hand in both Americas?"
"Napoleon?"
"NO!"
"George Washington?"
"NO!"
"What, Benjamin Franklin—"
"Henry, actually think!" Alice sighed.
"Well, the USA fought with Britain for independence, but Washington was the one—"
"Oh! Henry! You're a genius!"
"Wait what?" Henry blinked. He didn't expect Alice to suddenly praise him.
"We fought with Britain for independence; Britain's colonies are also in the Americas!" she cried triumphantly.
"Woah, slow down, partner." Henry faked a stereotypical Texan accent.
"Don't you get it? Hetalia. We talked about it earlier. They might answer our riddle."
"Hetalia?"
"Yes. Britain's the one with 'lost gestures' in the Americas; our relationship never really, I mean, like, really mended. Though I've still no idea about 'of A' and ending with the R."
"Guys, we're at Henry's house," Tom broke into the heated conversation. "Sounds like you think you've got some of it down," he murmured.
"Aye, we do," Henry laughed.
The trio hurried into the house, shutting all doors and windows before rushing to Henry's room. He quickly logged onto his computer, typing rapidly and searching "hetalia England Britain skeleton".
They Googled it, hoping for some results.
They got some.
"Look! Look!" Alice squee'd, pointing at the screen and one of the searches. "Youtube, and we've struck gold!"
"MMD?"
"Miku Miku Dance. It's about America (USA) and Britain (England)! Stuck in past and future. Watch the video, I think we've got our answer!"
Henry played the video, and all three carefully examined it. They noticed how they were all mentioning how false everything was and the crumbling of all must always happen; an infinite cycle of life that has no meaning. God could do nothing to save them.
It was as if it was the dance of the world.
Tom was completely absorbed in the MMD. He read the lyrics flashing below it, carefully diverting his eyes so that his two friends couldn't see how interested he was. What had they said earlier? They'd repeated some of the lyrics in the video, when they were in a trance. Something…something was up…
"Dude, remember beforehand? We already know some of this stuff." Tom grumbled. Then he suddenly lit up in recognition. "So we've got to find England…"
"You're joking me, right?" Henry groaned. "How're we gonna find a personified country? I mean, sure, thick brows, cool. But all those anime bangs and such? I mean, his eyebrows might be thick but they're pretty darn amazing! They're like they're waxed!"
"All anime characters' eyebrows look like they're waxed," Alice pointed out timidly.
"So what're we going to do about this?" Tom raised an eyebrow.
"Find him," was his friends' answers.
"How? We've only got a few more days before our sleepover-party ends, and how the hell does he even exist in the first place-"
"WE JUST WILL!"
America continued to gape at Svaestria's statement. Benland snorted, annoyed, but stopped when Svaestria gave him one of her signature 'shut up or I will shove this shovel up your ass' stares.
She then hesitantly removed a shovel from somewhere nearby her. To America, it'd basically just magically appeared out of thin air. Toying with the shovel, she returned her attention back at the dumbstruck country.
"As I said before, I'm thousands of years older than you," she murmured, barely loud enough for America to hear. It seemed as if she was embarrassed to say so.
"…N-no." America refused to believe her, his eyes dilating and a feeling of panic rising up in his chest.
"Dad, dad, dad!" Benland laughed. "Don'tcha see? We aren't from this world. We're from Earth, yeah! But we're not from this dimension."
"We weren't supposed to exist." Svaestria added as an afterthought, even quieter than before.
America blinked, trying to find a sensible answer to what he had just heard. So old. Not from this dimension. Weren't supposed to exist. . .
"I don't get it!" He cried. "Then why, why're you here? Why, what's the point? Why are you doing this in the first place, if you don't belong?"
"I don't know."
America froze. Benland's answer was so simple, yet unforgiving…
"We honestly don't know or care. You'll see. We're going to make the perfect world. It'll be perfect…everyone'll be free…no one will die…everything will be so happy…" Benland rambled on. His eyes were made into slits, and a blissful smile replaced his angry expression. He seemed to be imagining his perfect world.
America didn't need to think twice before he knew that his son was insane. If they weren't from this dimension, how did he have all these memories of how they were brought into existence? How come they didn't die? Why didn't they leave the world? In fact, why were they here in the first place?
Why?
Why did they all have to die?
Why did they exist?
Why?
