You woke up in a cold cell. The first thing you checked was to see if your hat was still intact. Yep. You sighed in relief, and started looking around said cell you were in. It was empty, all except for you. They had killed the rest of your men. Or did they get away? You were hoping for the latter. Why? Because you had befriended one of them. His name was Joshua, he was seventeen, and he had run away from home to join your pitiful army. 'While I lay here unworthy of life, mothers everywhere weep for the losses of their sons…what kind of monster am I?' Out of spite you punched the wall next to you. As your fist made contact with the cold concrete, you felt your hand get dowsed in crimson blood. You didn't care anymore. You watched the wound bleed, with a faraway expression. The least you could do for your fallen troops, was repay the blood shed right? You watched the blood drip down your wrist and onto the floor. 'At least the floor is colourful now…' you thought watching the drops of blood fall from your hand.

"Sanctus Espiritus," you whispered to yourself shaking. "Save them…" Tears wet your eyes, but you daren't let them fall. Your hand; now thoroughly covered in blood pushed your hat down further over your head to cover your face. You wanted everyone to be saved, everyone but yourself whom you hated right now. You confined yourself to a corner and waited to die.

Arthur's POV…

"The prisoner has been contained sir!" announced general Hull. I nodded. 'The time for interrogation, starts now.' I was lead through the chambers of the prison, until we stopped at room four-hundred. I peered inside. The boy was huddled up into a corner of the cell, crimson marking the path he'd taken. I noticed in particular that the crimson liquid was blood, and quite a bit of it was pooled around him. He was whispering to himself, some things I caught were, "I shouldn't have left home." Then, "My bruder was right." And "How long is it going to take me to die?" That last one there took me by surprise. The lad wanted to die? I moved to enter the cell.

"Sir it's not safe! That there is dangerous!" said the guard. I turned to him. No matter how many people or what cause this boy had, he was still human, and deserved to be treated as such.

"That there, is a human being! And no matter what he's done, he still deserves to be treated as such." I said to him, before walking into the cell. As I approached the boy the mumblings got louder and louder. One sentence stood out from all of the others.

"Why did this war start in the first place? I should've remained neutral…" he mumbled, sinking lower to the ground. "Why did bruder want to do this? Why?" I remained silent, until the mumbling died down.

"You! Why were you openly attacking my people?" I asked the man in the corner. He looked around the same age as me, maybe a bit younger.

"I was assigned to attack England, nothing more, nothing less," grumbled the boy from where he sat, clutching his hat to his head.

"Who assigned this task to you?" I pried. The boy bit his lip in hesitation.

"My Bruder," he said, choosing his words carefully, "and his two 'friends.'" 'He actually answered?' I asked myself.

"Do you regret fighting for the axis?" I asked. Any person who was in war on a particular side only said 'yes' to this question, to keep from dying. The boy brought one of his hands; it was coated in blood, from his side.

"I regret fighting in the first place. War isn't the answer it never is," he said shaking. "I led my men to death and your men also, for which I also should die." He looked at his hand, and that's when it hit me. The boy wanted to die for his actions. He didn't understand why the war, was going on. He only wanted to help his brother. I was so caught up in thought, that I didn't catch the end of his statement.

"What was that last part?" I asked. The boy sighed, and continued staring at his hand.

"I can't," he repeated. I was thoroughly confused.

"You can't what?" the boy smiled sadly, as if he wished he could do this one thing he was about to say.

"Die." Was all he said. Come to think of it, he had lost way to much blood for any one person to be alive.

"What is your name soldier?" I asked. The boy frowned at the word 'soldier.'

"_ _," Was his reply. I looked at him incredibly confused. What an odd name. "And yours?"

"Arthur," I said, "Arthur Kirkland."

Your POV.

"Arthur," he said, "Arthur Kirkland." The Arthur Kirkland? The mighty British Empire? You just continued to stare at your hand, absently. At least you could die with dignity. He approached you, and you drew away as far as the wall would allow you. He reached over for your hat.

"Stay away from my hat," you say glaring at him. This must've amused him, for he reached over and pulled it off of your head. "Stupid Limey doesn't even know how to listen…" you hiss at him. The bun that had been strategically placed on top of your head was now more or less gone, and your (c/h) hung limply over your shoulders. He glared back at you, and you continued to hiss insults at him, for not listening to you.

"You know foul language doesn't suit you well," he hissed back at you, green eyes ablaze. "It's very unladylike of you." You glared at him. If looks could kill he'd have died tens of thousands of deaths already.

"I never claimed to be a lady," you hiss back at him. Funny. You'd think you'd despise your enemy more. He smiled a sort of broken smile, mixed with hate and sadness.

"That you didn't," he said to you, "I'll be sure to take a note of that." And with that he left, taking your will to fight for the axis with him.

Sorry this chapter is so short; I'll try to make up for it in the next one. I OWN NONE OF THE CHARACTERS USED! I only own my sadistic, weird, creepy, demonic, ideas!