CHAPTER 1

Alfred was lounging around his house, his feet up on the sofa, with his chin rest lazily on his arm on the other end of the couch, stomach down. The only work the teen was actually doing, was lifting up the TV remote, and flicking through the channels, trying to find something to watch. God, he was bored, and daytime TV sucked. Gah, another history show. . . Alfred dropped the remote and let his arm go limp, hitting the floor. Listening to the rather droning voice come from the television. The American turned his head so that his face was buried in his arm. His glasses were pushing against his face slightly, into his face and he sighed. There had to be something to do, surely.

Then luckily for Alfred, the doorbell rang, and he sat up. Swivelling his body around so that he got off the sofa, the doorbell rang a second time. God, this guy was impatient.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. . ." Alfred said, his voice still slightly bored, pretty monotone. He got up and answered the door, and was rather surprised to see the man of England standing there, arms crossed against his classic green army suit. Alfred quirked a brow.

"Eh? Artie, what are you doing here?" He asked. Nope, no hello, no how are you, blunt and straight to the point with Alfred. Arthur sighed, and quirked one of those massive eyebrows.

"Well, I needed to talk to you, how would you like to be. . .a hero?" Arthur smirked, a lopsided smirk as he looked at the boy. If the American was going to be blunt, then so would the Brit. Alfred stared at him for a moment, and frowned. Although, his expression was fairly obvious that he was intrigued.

"A . . .hero?" He asked simply. Arthur nodded.

"Yes, a Hero. We. . . myself and Netherlands, have a job for you. It would make you a hero," Arthur explained. Alfred had heard about his former guardian's plot with Maarten van der Meer, and he wasn't too fond of it in all honesty. He had rebelled in 1776 for a reason, to be independent. He wasn't about to sign himself over.

"What kind of job?"

"Well, we'll give you a gun, and training, and you shall be our right hand man. You will go out into battles for us, fight for the honour of the New Era, and you'll be paid and classed as a hero that will go down in history," Arthur continued, a rather smug smile played on his face. He was getting the cards straight, as if he'd prepared this, which in fact . . . he had.

The teen's expression lit up instantly. A hero! And to go down in history for it . . . and get paid? That was wicked, dude. Alfred started nodding, the same grin he wore a child was plastered on his face.

"Yeh sure dude! I'll do it! It'll be cool!" He said, and the Brit's smile grew to a wide grin, almost ear to ear.

Alfred started getting fidgety on the spot, he was excited. Who knew what kind of heroic duties he'd have to do for them?

"Alright, that's lovely, lad. Here," Arthur unfolded his arms and took out a piece of paper, handing it to the American. Alfred opened it up the second he was given it. It was directions, and by the looks of it, to a camp in the middle of nowhere.

"This. . is our base in all honesty. It's a training ground, and where me and Maarten meet and discuss our next steps, and most of the countries that signed are actually able to stay, or discuss any problems they might have, so that myself and Netherlands can solve them before they become an issue for all of us," The Brit explained, followed by a rather odd smile. He gave the American no time to reply, before he started talking again. "I'll see you there then lad. I look forward to it."

And with that, the Brit had walked off, leaving the American, still in his pyjama's, standing in his doorway looking at the piece of paper with a rather blank expression. His thoughts started travelling through his head, what was he going to do? Join Arthur and Maarten? Or. . .remain a free country? But. . .he wanted to be a hero so. . .and plus, it wouldn't be that bad would it? Just a few errands, no one would need to be killed. Right? Alfred shrugged and put the piece of paper on the table, noticing there was a message at the bottom.

Alfred, if you take the paper, please come to the base shown above on the 5th of May at 11am for recruitment briefs. Signed, Maarten. Netherlands.

Alfred sighed and looked at the time on the phone. It was the fourth. So, that brief day was tomorrow . . . fan-fucking-tastic. Alfred was supposed to be going out with Matthew. But, I guess that would just have to wait. He had a job now, he was gonna be a hero! Surely the Canadian would understand if he missed one day for work. Alfred shrugged, suppose he'd better ring up.