I'M BACK! AND IM SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY! I did warn you all i was a horrible updater -.-' Well this is kinda awkward because i had to reread what i already posted and i was like 'O.O holy fucking shit on a brick did i write that?!' So ya...this is what you get. My excuse for not updating? I RP too much, this file (along with a few others im slowly realizing and fixing) were somehow deleted from my laptop and i've had to recopy and past from here to get it back in word, college started (if you dont already know) and...uh...that might be about it. So yes, this chap goes out to What the Awesome is this for sending me that freakout review back in November. I've had you in the back of my mind and i just fail. sorry, but here it is!

"Mr. President!"

Ronald paused in the conversation he had been engrossed in with his vice president when the Secretary of Homeland Security came running over. The balding man had a look of what could only be described as absolute fear and worry on his face as he rushed over, oddly forcefully yanking the man aside. "Sir, he's gone."

"Uh…who?"

"The nation! Our nation! Alfred Jones escaped!" The very audacity of that statement was enough to make Ronald laugh. "Sir, this isn't funny! Alfred Jones is mentally unstable and as strong at the entire nation with years of war and death mixed in with years of isolation! There is no telling what he'll do!"

"Wh-you're serious?" Ronald leaned back from the crazed looking man, waiting for the information regarding this matter to be corrected. "Why wouldn't I be?!"

"Mr. President?" the man in question stuck a hand up, silencing his VP and pulling the secretary before him down the hall to a more secluded corner. "Because, Mr. Secretary, the personification of the United States of America is unstable. I've been to see him twice now and neither time has he seemed even capable of holding a conversation, let alone breaking out of a high security base underground. Now you better get your facts straight, sir."

"They are correct, sir! Reports came in half hour ago of the nation himself, stumbling through the halls, hurting or killing anyone who got in his way and eventually getting his hands on some kind of explosive and blowing up the base. One of the only surviving videos show America being confronted by three armed guards, demanding he return to his cell. After staring at them for exactly thirteen seconds, he ran at them, disarmed them and threw them aside like they were nothing. Our only information from the destroyed base says that the assailant escaped with only a mild gunshot wound to the left shoulder and some kind of book he required from somewhere. I have men arriving there now."

Ronald was speechless. Was the book his journal? Was that what woke the nation up from his irrationally induced state of slumber? "Show me. Right now."

Right…left…right…left…right…right, a hero is always right…correct…with…liberty and justice for all…

Alfred F. Jones could only mildly comprehend his current location. He couldn't really see, like someone turned off his eyes, yet he could still make out where he was going. Behind him, now a strange color at the edge of the land, was his cage with the loud sounds in the walls, the class, his squeaky, soft cushion and all of those people with the…things! Such loud things, like that round black thing that shot off when he touched it. That had been scary, but his book would help him. It had been so nice to read before his eyes had gone dark. Now he just didn't know what to do but keep moving.

…right…left…right…left…Arthur…where is Arthur?

His legs stopped moving and he slowly looked up. "What is that?" Jumping from the sudden sound, he looked around with wild eyes, searching for the source of the sound. "W-wh-" There it was again! Wait, was that him? "M-Me..? H-Hi. Hi. Me. Me. I am…making…s-sound. Just me. Alone. No one else." He felt the beating in his body calm down once he understood that he'd just forgotten what voicing sounded like, voicing? Sp…speaking? Talking. and looked back at what had gathered his attention before. Like the color behind him, there was color to his side two. It wasn't the same color either. Something different! Something he wanted to explore! Turning his feet in that direction, he began walking towards the lights on the horizon.

Not alone? Lights…Arthur. Must find Arthur. My brother. My betrayer. England.

Miles and miles of walking led him to a weird surface beneath his feet. It wasn't squishy or dusty like what he's just been on, but more solid and dark. Seeing it lead to the 'colors', he decided to walk on it, also because he didn't like he easily tripped on the other stuff he'd been on. He kept walking, putting one foot in front of the other, until he stopped once again. The colors were getting bigger and there was this low hum. The nation had no idea what was happening as this gigantic object came racing towards him, making these sounds that flashed back to his cage and the sounds in the walls.

Jumping off back onto the dust, the thing raced past at a speed that made Alfred go pale, his eyes watching as the slightly different colored back end of the loud thing rushed the way he had just come from. America was frozen in place for the longest time before he remembered that he had to get to England. He had to see his Arthur. So he got back onto his feet and continued on his path, more wary of other strange and loud flashes of color that would come at him.

Large places, much like his cage, graced his lite up eyes. Other people, as his mind suddenly remembered, were out walking around. Not many, as his mind added, but still more than he was used to. He walked to streets of the small town, the lights blinding him after so long out in the desert. His legs felt numb and his middle made a strange 'grrrowp' sound, seeming to contract into itself. He had no idea what that meant. How was he supposed to make it stop? How was he supposed to fix this?

His body stumbled down the street; his once white and loosely fit slacks were dirtied along with his white shoes. The other humans he passed gave him scared looks and did their best to avoid him, but America did not notice. His mind was overwhelmed with the sights, smells and atmosphere of this place while his feet seemed to move on their own. His haunted blue eyes looked up at the few people all sitting down in strange seats with flat things laid horizontally in front of them. A strong smell he couldn't place overwhelmed him as he leaned against the glass down he hadn't noticed he's entered.

"S-Sir, c-can I h-help you?"

America's head snapped to stare at the woman some sort of…blockade. Did she know where England was? Arthur… His legs struggled to take him over there and his arms had to hold onto the blockade to keep him from falling. Why was he so dizzy? What was happening to him?! "…where..? England…I need…England."

The woman swallowed. "S-Sir, England is a country. We don't…um…are your caretakers around? Were you in an accident?"

"I'm calling the police!" A male was sitting at a table off to the side, holding some kind of…object. He was pushing things and then put it to his head to talk. Alfred stared at him, oblivious to the other people in the restaurant, his eyes falling on the wrapped thing in front of the man. He had two. America wanted them. Tripping over his awkward legs, he fell into the chair opposite the man. The other customers quickly gathered their things and took their chance to escape from the crazy person. Alfred didn't notice.

He reached forward and grabbed the untouched, shiny, squishy thing. How did this work? The other one that man had was…pulled back? Strange. He copied what he saw, revealing something else beneath the shiny part. Enthralled with this finding, he shoved as much of the thing into his mouth.

"Hey! What the fuck?!" Something came forward at him and Alfred reacted with reflexes he only read he had in his journal. Dropping the questionable thing he wanted so bad on his lap, he grabbed the man's hand, snapped it up and then ripped the whole human out of his seat and tossed him over his shoulder, taking the whole table with. Something loud filled the air. A scream. Well, thank you helpful mind~ He ignored the woman, relishing in the taste of this treat.

"M-Moar!" He yelled, pointing at the food and swallowing! "More, please!"

The woman wasn't there though. She was gone and he was all alone except for the unconscious man on the ground beside him. Oh. Getting to his feet and collecting his journal, which he must have dropped at some point, he stumbled over to the blockade and leaned over it. "Ah ha!" There was more of that food back there and all he had to do was get to it! Putting his weight onto his hands, he lifted himself over and went for the strange food labeled…um…ha…hambeu…hambeujer. No…hamburger. It's called a hamburger. Once again his mind corrected him as he sat down and began tearing into all the shiny so he could get to the food. Meat. Happy.

He felt like he had never tasted something so beautiful before in his life and yet he must have as his body seemed to work themselves through in a fashion that would suggest prior repetition of such movements. The juice slid down his chin as his eyes closed in thought. Perhaps now that his eyes were opened, he could read his book.

Grabbing the worn pages and opening to a random spot, he put another hamburger into his mouth as he read.

…yet again, I find myself wondering how England could ever love me after what I have done. Then again, how can I even love him? He hurt me just as badly as I hurt him, if not more. He held me back. /He/ hurt/me!/ Why do I have to suffer for this? It was all his fault! All he needed to do was give me what I asked and everything would have worked out fine. Now we both have to suffer because he was a self-righteous bastard!...

Alfred finished his eight burger, quickly flipping to the last entry of the book.

…I am absolutely disgusted by my people. The amount of racisim that floods their minds and hearts makes me sick. I hoped that the end of the [small, unimportant war] would be the end of my problems, but of course not. Today I learned of a tragic event. On the twenty-ninth of December, at least 200 of my people died. Not these people that changed my skin and made me look like them, but my real people. It is with a heavy heart I cannot speak their true name anymore. The large amounts of white people that have laid claim over me call them and 'Indians'. The people that perished were Lakota, up at Wounded Knee Creek. I hear mixed reviews on what happened, but I know in my soul that it was murder. Even woman holding their babies close were not saved by the white 7th Cavalry who were only 'defending' themselves. This event, like the so many before it, make me feel as if I have lost sight of who I am. I wish that…

America paused, lifting his head up to hear better. Like the sound from the walls of his cage, it was loud and getting louder. Closing his book, he slowly got to his knees and peered over the blockade, quickly ducking back down at the sudden intrusion of light in his eyes. His mind told him to run, like the woman before him, so, grabbing his diary, he crawled towards the back of the kitchens to the a door, kicked it open and ran.

Okay, so rereading all of this and thinking, i've realized a few mistakes that i am here to fix for you~~~

America's journal-my reasoning behind how the book is still around is because, since this is the future (which i will get to), the books are reconstructions of what he originally wrote. Yes, it is still his handwriting and his exact words (even mispellings in later issues), but this is a futuristic way of preserving them. It's like the ultimate way to copy and paste. You copy his words and move them to a better paper. Think of it as sucking out the ink and transferring it. AND the books are in less supply than what there should be because, well, it's the government. Not only do they pick and choose what they want to keep, but not all books/chapter/dates were accounted for. That is why this one thick 'journal' goes from middle or end of the Rev. War to about 150 years later. (did anyone catch what i left out~?)

The Future- it's much like today, but with a few updated things. (mostly because i'm just not going to think of a new world and i really, really REALLY dislike the idea of hover crafts. If you have ever read the Host, or intend to see the movie, think of it kinda like that i guess. Normal cars, cities, stuff, but more advanced. Like the difference between the 80s/early 90s to today. A lot more McDonalds though. And Starbucks, lots and lots of Starbucks~

OK? any comments? it's been a while so i apologize for anything stupid~ R&R

i also hope you can follow what America is talking about half the time...he's crazy