Chapter 3
America hops out of his fighter plane, finally arrived at Washington DC. He tosses his helmet off and rushes through the base, ignoring the shouts towards him for not going by the runway protocals. It was around 2am and he was tired, his mind racing that he was late, he was SO late. He was so dead, the president would fuss him out for this and he hated to be yelled at. He slows down, realising that his boss wouldn't be up at this time. Heck, he shouldn't even be up at this time. He stops sighing as he sees some soldiers approaching him, looking worried.
One dashes up, looking America over, "Mr. America, are you ok? Are you hurt?" It was a Sergeant Major, they all knew about him and the nations. It was standard procedure to be told when they receieved their new rank about all the nations.
America shakes his head, "No, I'm fine."
A second one looks at America in confusion, "What? Then why were you running like you were dying?"
America sighs, "I missed my meeting, Truman's going to kill me."
"WHAT?!" The soldiers yell out, worried about the nation.
America sighs, waving his hands in front of him, "Oh, not for real, he's just not going to be too happy about me being...11 hours late for a meeting."
A Sergeant sighs in relief, "Oh, you had us worried for a minute there Mister America. Truman has left to go to sleep and won't probally be awake until 0800 hours sir."
America sighs, "Can I get a room for tonight then? I kinda rushed over here without thinking that the president would be awake at this ungodly hour."
Sergeant Major nods, "Yes sir. Come this way, you can board with Foxtrot Company tonight. Private Vicks had to go home with a broken leg and there's an extra bed." He leads America away, the rest of the soldiers dispersing, waving good bye to America joking and carring on.
America yawns, stretching his arms above his head. He quickly freezes, letting his arms come down, his chest still paining him from Pearl Harbor. The Sergeant Major doesn't question, choosing not to ask why America had winced. He leads America to the barracks, the nation touching his left chest, feeling the scar that had formed since then. He wasn't mad at Kiku for launching the attack, after all, they all had to follow the rules of being a nation. Everybody had to follow these rules, they had been developed by Yao, since he was immortal he had figured out the basics of being a nation. The thirteen rules to live by. WORLD STATE TPM (Total Peace Model). It was supposed to insure peace between all nations but so far he hadn't seen any results. But he wasn't giving up on it like so many of the other nations had, he believed in it as much as he believed in his own abilities. When Kiku had attacked on that infamous day, one thought was going through his mind, Rule number 1, first lesson in being a nation, is wars.
Wars are a daily part of life for us nations, because our bosses can never agree with each other. Its important that you can defend yourself if one of your fellow nations attacks you. And remember, what happens in war is never your fault, we are just pawns, to be used as our leaders see fit. We are freed of this duty when death finally claims us. Its never our fault.
It wasn't Kiku attacking of his own will but because his boss told him to. At least this is what America told himself at night. The Sergeant Major leads America up to the barracks and opens the doors.
"Attention!" He yells, the joking around soldiers quickly standing at attention, looking straight forward.
"Today you have a new bunk mate, I'm sure a few of you have heard of him and some believe him not to exist but he is here with us tonight for a special ocassion, so treat him with the utmost respect. Mr. Alfred F. Jones will be sleeping in Foxtrot's barracks tonight, do I make myself clear?"
"Huaah!" The group announces.
"Good, at ease men and have a good night." He walks out, the soilders looking at America.
One walks up to him, "Who the hell are you?"
America ignores him, just wanting to go to sleep. This usually happened when the new recruits met him. He could tell they were Privates, all of them looking at him with unsure looks, studying him. He knew exactly what they were thinking, why was he so special? The guy growls, standing up blocking America from going to the empty bunk.
"I asked you a question, Jones." He spits out, smirking at America.
"You wouldn't understand." America says, looking over Texas at the young soldier.
"Try me." He says.
America looks at the soldiers crowding around, eager to see what Jones had to say. It was the same thing everytime, he would tell them, they would scoff and push him, saying he was crazier than they thought. He would then be told to prove it which required to do something nobody but a nation could do, which was lifting something heavy in his case.
He sighs, "I'm Alfred F. Jones. Also known to my leader and other chains of the goverment as America." He says, "I'm a nation." He replies calmly and walking by the guy.
The guy growls and suddenly swings, not liking the joke he thought they guy was saying about the country he was fighting for. America gasps as he sees the fist coming, ducking with incredable speed, the guy's fist instead connecting with the pole beside America. The guys whince as they hear a crack, not a good sign for the guy or the pole for that matter. Even America was shaking his hand as he sees the guy yell out, grabbing his hand in agony. This was unexpected, he never had somebody attack him for telling them. America stumbles back, seeing the man glaring him down.
The soldier growls and grasps his hand, shaking it in pain, "Who are you really?! Tell us the truth."
"I am." He says, looking at the company, "Do I have to prove myself, because I'm really tired and I want to get some sleep before I go meet Truman tommorrow." America says, straightening his posture. The guy glares, America swearing his eyes were glowing in anger.
"You're not a nation." He growls out, "I fight for my nation, you're just crazy."
Now it was going like it usually does, "Hold up a moment." He says, grabbing a bed's railing with his right arm, not wanting to pain his scar.
The two guys on the bed are looking in surprise as America lifts the bed off the ground as if it was a piece of paper, the rest of the soldiers looking in shock. Even the soldier who tried to attack him was stunned, just looking as America turns around, looking at them, the bed still lifted up.
"Now, can I get some sleep?" He says, the guy on the top bunk of the bed, holding onto the railing for fear life, looking in awe at the guy holding up his bed, with him on it.
They nod, whispering amongst themselves. America places the bed down on the ground, walking to the empty bed and sitting on the materess. He takes off his coat and gets ready to drap it at the bottom of the bed when he grins, looking at the inside of the coat. He had wondered where he put the plans for D-Day, he had been looking for them for a few days now. One of the soldiers spots the map sewn into the lining of his coat.
"Hey, what's that?" He asks, looking from the bunk above America.
America looks up, "Oh, this. This is the actual map of the D-Day invasion."
"No way!" One soldier cries out, getting behind America to see the plans. "Why is it in your coat?"
America laughs, "Well, I figured, they always check your pockets for plans but, they never take off your coat, so if I got captured it would be hidden in plain sight." He explains, laying his coat at the foot of the bed.
The guys nod and get back to their beds, most of them accepting the fact that he was their nation and bunking with them for the night. They wouldn't tell anybody though, nobody would believe them if they tried. Even they didn't believe it and they were staring right at the nation. America sighs and takes off his unifrom, leaving on his shorts and undershirt, his silver dogtags hanging around his neck. He lays down on his back, whincing as he stretches, the scar on his lchest stretching as well. He takes off Texas, laying the glasses beside him on the bed, careful not to place it somewhere he would accidenty knock them off from. He sighs as the room gets queit as the soldiers start to get ready for bed too. It was Saturday so they were goofing around, they didn't have to get up in the morning. August 4, 1945 we have been fighting for 4 years, wonder if the fighting will ever end. America drifts off to sleep, having the same nightmare he does every night, the date of Pearl Harbor.
Caio. This is the next chapter of I'm The Villian. Looks like even America can be late for a meeting. Even I had forgotten about the Time Zones, so don't feel bad America. So here is the first of the thirteen rules of being a nation, Wars. I will eventually have a whole rule book typed up here for anybody to use on their stories. It will kinda turn out like the Skippy list online for Soldiers. Oh, its dinner time over here, ve. I hope they'll have pasta, they'll have pasta right? Pasta would be nice, pasta. It would be awesome if we had some pasta. Pasta, right?
Keiko: Mixalis, what is Italy doing here?!
Mixalis: Well, he looked so depressed in the last chapter, I decided to cheer him up.
Keiko: By letting him do the authors notes?! (Growls)
Mixalis: Oh come on Kay, have a heart. (Smirks at Keiko while she growls louder) I mean, who can resist this face? (Pushes Italy in front of Keiko, Italy looking quite pitiful)
Keiko: No, not the....puppy dog face....ok fine. Contine on with the author's notes Feliciano. (Curse the power of the puppy dog face, it is very effective)
Italy: Yatta! Grazie! Ok, as I was saying, ve. Keiko's wrist is still messed up thought it is slowly recovering. And this story will be better than the last one, and longer, with more detail and historical facts, ve. Ok, we can go eat pasta now, right?
Keiko: Italy, they might not even have pasta today. They never have pasta, French Toast, or Cheesecake around here at College, its like gold. (Stops as she sees Italy's sad face) But, they might. (She reasures him)
Mixalis: (nods) Sure, and besides, half the time it tastes bad, no meat.
Keiko: (Groans as Italy looks even more sad) But they have Pizza all the time.
Italy: (Perks up) Pizza?
Mixalis: (Scoffs) If you can call that mess Pizza.
Italy: PPIIZZZZAA! Pizza, pizza, pizza! (Runs towards Cafeteria)
Keiko: Um, Mixa, I think all he heard was 'Pizza'
Mixalis: Yeah, just don't let him die from eatting the pizza, Germany would kill me. I promised the guy I wouldn't let nothing happen to the silly boy while he was visiting America's House. (Walks away) Now I know why Germany drinks so much Peptobismal, where is that blasted medicine. (goes to cabinet and starts chugging back the pink liquid) Ya bai, Ya bai, Ya bai. (This is bad)
Keiko: Oh and a special thanks to darandomninja for the best review that I've ever got about the end last year and for inspiring me to write this. You should check out her Stories, especially the Revolution one, The Changes as Time Progresses. They are the most beautifully written stories I've read up here. Grazie and have a happy Earth Day! Please Read and Review, I really need to see how it is going, ok, and if I'm writting it right. I want to please my readers and I can't do that unless I get some feedback from my readers. Grazie, and Aiddo.