ISIS falls, and we meet a peculiar little boy...
June 8, 2015
Oslo, Norway
America jolted as a bell rang out throughout the World Summit Meetingplace, China, sitting across from him, did the same. The two rivals-turned-temporary-allies had been pouring over America's paperwork, which the younger nation had revealed to be battle plans against ISIS. So far, they had divided the war against ISIS into four main parts: the Libyan Campaign(LC), the Middle Eastern Campaign(MEC), the Afghanistan Campaign(AC), and the Tibet/Xinjiang Campaign(TXC). They had decided, that if everything went according to plan, the participating members of the EU, with aid from Canada, would take the LC; Turkey, the Middle East, and America, with help from the Russian air force, would take charge of the MEC; and then America, Russia, and China would defeat the AC and the TXC.
"Lunch already?" the American nation remarked, checking his phone. Sure enough, the clock read exactly 12:15.
"Finally," China muttered, standing up and cracking his back. "I've been cramping for ages. I don't get how you western countries can take it."
"We just have younger bones," America laughed, receiving a cuff on the ear by the elder nation. "Ow! Dude, that hurt!"
"Serves you right," Yao remarked, grabbing his papers and heading for the door. "I take it we'll start after lunch?"
"Yep!" Alfred popped the 'p.' "The real challenge will be keeping everyone calm enough to listen to my-"
"Our."
"Plan, but I've got an idea for that."
"You're just going to yell at them, aren't you?"
"Dude?! How did you know?!"
"You are much more predictable than you think."
America pouted, crossing his arms and huffing. China found himself cracking a small smile at the younger nation's behavior.
"Look, I'll take care of that problem," he compromised, rolling his shoulders. "If worst comes to worst, I'll use Russia. He'll terrify them all into submission."
"You act like you know that you can control him," America remarked, raising an eyebrow suggestively. China rolled his eyes.
"Ayiah! You western nations are so immature! It's not like that!" He exclaimed. "Russia's too terrifying! He just happens to like me more than others!"
"Sure…" Alfred's grin became lewd. China huffed, now extremely annoyed, and exited the tiny room-finally-and entered the now-busy hallway. The Eastern nation sighed and rubbed the back of his head as he watched the other countries burst out of the conference room, some looking as if they had gone through a third World War.
"So help me, America, if this doesn't work, I am going to kill you," he muttered.
America bit his lip nervously, watching as more and more nations strode into the meeting room, most looking as if they would prefer to be anywhere but here. Already, the two hours the countries had been allotted for lunch had passed, and it was almost time for his and China's plan to begin.
Already, he could spot England, Canada, and France entering the mostly-full room, France and England were fighting (as per usual), and Canada being ignored (also as per usual). America's northern brother glanced up at his twin, raising an eyebrow in surprise at America's position as speaker. The superpower only grinned and waved. Canada gave him a weary stare, before shaking his head to himself and taking his seat.
"We should be ready to begin in a couple minutes or so. Almost everyone's come back."
America let out an undignified yelp, surprised, and whipped around to see none other than China looking back at him. The younger nation put a hand over his heart, laughing nervously.
"Dude, how'd you sneak up on me?" he exclaimed. "Scared me half to death!"
China rolled his eyes. "You just didn't see me," he said. "You are oblivious, after all. Are you nervous? You're sweating."
"What?" America balked. He hurriedly wiped his hands on his pants. "No way, man! I'm the hero, and heroes don't get scared in the face of danger!"
"Sure…."
America stuck out his tongue at his elder, who didn't respond. "When do you want to start?"
China shrugged, looking out over the room, Alfred following his gaze. While they had been talking, the aides had shut the door to the conference room, signaling the start of the meeting. Already, the sound of the nations fighting, talking, and causing chaos was rising steadily. France and England hadn't even seemed to breathe since they'd entered the room, Norway was choking Denmark with his tie, and Poland was fighting Russia over Lithuania, who was desperately trying to break them apart. Only Canada seemed to be actually watching the two superpowers on stage, confused.
"Okay, ready?" China asked. America, taking a deep breath, nodded. The Asian nation suddenly grinned maliciously, and taking the microphone off the podium, made a deafening screeching sound on it.
Well, America noted, rubbing his ears, That worked a little too well. China had successfully silenced all the nations in the room, though most of them were glaring at the pair as if they were about to run up and stab them in the chest.
"What the bloody hell was that for?!"
Obviously, England was the first person to react.
"I needed a way for all of you westerners to pay attention," China responded, cutting off several other disgruntled complaints. "America has something to say. Both of us have been talking, and we've decided to present to you about it. It's not like we were going to do anything during this meeting, anyways." Yao then tossed the microphone to Alfred, who caught it with a slight fumble. Quickly, he began to talk, not wanting the room to descend into chaos again.
"Yo, what's up, dudes?" he began, forcing a hero-level grin and shoving all of his fear (stupid stage fright) down inside of him. "Okay, so the topic for this talk today is about ISIS and the other Radical Islamic terrorist organizations in the Middle East and Northern Africa. China and I have both agreed to a temporary alliance on this problem, so everybody else better shut up unless they want face the two of us."
A deafening silence fell across the seminar room and Alfred let himself feel a bit of triumph. In his experience, the only way to get a country to shut up was to threaten them with war. In a way, the old days were still ingrained in the older nations, he reflected.
"Look, the air raids against ISIS just aren't working. We know that. These guys are more than willing to fight to their last breaths for what they believe in. I'm sure Libya and you Middle Eastern Countries can attest to that."
"We cannot simply send ground troops there," England protested, speaking up once again. "We have our own problems too, you know." Several murmurs of assent echoed his declaration.
"Look," America shot back, waving an arm. "You can say what you want, but ISIS is a real threat to world security if we don't try and stop them now. They've captured Ramadi. They have control of Palmyra. They may have lost Tikrit, but they also have taken over Derna, Benghazi, and Sirte[1]. They have suicide bombers all over the world, and they are more than ready to fight. It's about time we really fight back."
"And they've hacked my embassy!" A voice rang out over the crowd, and nations turned to see Turkmenistan, a tan-skinned Middle Asian man, standing up. At seeing the looks they were giving him, the nation flushed and sat back down in his seat[2].
"I agree with America."
Everyone turned to see Tajikistan, of all people, sitting up in her seat. Rather small at 5'2, with loose brown hair, the Middle Asian nation didn't wince under the stares she was being given.
"Because of their threats to Central Asia, Russia is supporting us, but it isn't enough," Tajikistan continued. "I've had to ban parts of the Muslim religion; my men aren't allowed to have long beards anymore. Now we're even thinking of banning Islamic names! I, for one, am all for stopping radical Islam. Colonel Khalimov may have defected because of what my government has done, but ISIS certainly is no better[3]. I say it's time we take action!" She paused for a moment, then turned to Pakistan, who sat a row in front of her. "And letting them get nukes from Pakistan isn't a good idea, either[4]."
Pakistan looked ready to protest Tajikistan's remarks, but was quickly silenced by Sweden, who sat one seat to his left and put a hand on the nation's shoulder, effectively shutting him up.
"Well, I assure all of you," Algeria, spiky brown hair hanging in front of his eyes, declared. "I will not be an easy target, unlike Libya."
"Why, you—!" The green-eyed African[5] exclaimed, but was also silenced by a well-placed stare from Vietnam, also sitting one seat to his left.
"Thank you," America found himself grinning, happy that some nations were supporting him, at least. "If we are all willing to work together, I'm sure that we can defeat ISIS with the next two years—at most. We just need to put all our efforts in the right places."
"I am starting to blame the US for the rise of ISIS. It makes sense that the capitalist pig would help them, da?"
Alfred's optimism almost disappeared down the drain. Of course Russia would ruin the fun. He gritted his teeth, about to retort, when he caught China's eye. The Ancient nation almost imperceptibly shook his head, and America clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and forced himself to remain calm.
"Blaming is almost useless now," he retorted. "ISIS exists, and we can't do anything about it. We can only stop them and Radical Islam forever."
Russia just 'kol'ed in response, looking very pleased. The superpower looked at his enemy, confused, but mentally shrugged it off.
"Anyways, China and I have devised a plan to deal with the terrorist groups in the Middle East, Asia, and North Africa. This is what we'll do…"
July 21, 2015
?
Deep in the mountains, far away from the prying eyes of modern life, a small village was situated on a plateau. Consisting of mostly huts made of wood and thatched roofs, they were spaced some ways apart, each boasting a small, terraced farm and a pasture where sheep were kept. The sky above was a misty gray, with rain threatening to arrive in several hours' time. Men were out tending the fields, and several women were doing the wash before it became too wet to do so.
A man walked through this small village, entering by the small dirt road that connected it to the outside world. Almost immediately he was deemed an outsider, as his clothes, western-made, contrasted greatly with the almost primitive tribal life that surrounded him.
One of the women stood upon his arrival, her washing forgotten as she called out to the men in the fields in an almost-forgotten dialect of the western-dressed man's native language. One of the men in the fields, a young man perhaps twenty-five years old, was the closest, and he dropped his ox-driven plow at the call, shouting for a teenaged boy to take it up before trekking to the center of the village.
The western-dressed man waited patiently until the tribal man reached him, murmuring to the woman, who nodded and entered the hut. The tribal man bowed deeply to the western-dressed one.
"Ras Täfäri," the tribal man murmured in a thick accent, not raising his head until the western man acknowledged him. "We are honored by your presence."
"Is it true?" Ras Täfäri questioned, dark eyes scanning the village around him. "The rumors?"
The man shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. "Some," he conceded. "My son… he is either gifted by God or cursed by the Devil. Our priest cannot discern which."
Whatever Ras Täfäri wished to hear, this seemed to be it. "I may be able to help, but I guarantee nothing. Bring me to him."
The man nodded, mumbling gratitudes, and turned, guiding the man over to one of the sheep pastures, where several children were watching and tending to the animals. The woman from earlier exited the house again, rushing to her husband and murmuring into his ear. The man nodded, and the woman gave hurriedly gave her respects to Ras Täfäri before going back to the hut, where a baby had started to wail.
"Alemayehu!" The man called out. A little boy who was perhaps six or seven years old looked up from where he was sitting on a fence post. Like most of his people, he had black hair and dark brown skin, and was dressed in traditional tribal clothes. If Ras Täfäri had not been specifically looking for him, his eyes would have passed right over the boy.
Alemayehu jumped down from his post and ran over to his father, who knelt down and took the boy's shoulders.
"Alemayehu," the man said to his son. "This is Ras Täfäri. He may be able to understand and help you."
The boy looked up at Ras Täfäri, who gazed down at him, curious but as of yet unimpressed. The boy's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in suspicion.
"I have seen you before, in my dreams," he announced coldly, much more articulate than a boy his age would be expected to be. "Biḥērawī. You are not a human. Not like us."
Ras Täfäri's eyes widened in shock, while the man began to sputter apologies, caught off guard. He raised a hand, cutting off the man with a wave, and knelt down to the boy's height.
"Come with me for a moment," he said. Alemayehu looked to his father, who, after a moment of deliberation, nodded shortly. Ras Täfäri stood, and with a hand on the boy's shoulder, steered him away from the village center and prying ears and eyes. Alemayehu did not seem afraid, simply walking with Ras Täfäri until he stopped at a separation point between two of the farms.
Ras Täfäri looked down at Alemayehu, who simply gazed back at him with deadened eyes that looked decades older than his tender age.
"You see things others do not," the elder man said curiously. "What do you see?" The boy hesitated for a moment, then spoke.
"Death. Destruction. Triumph. Pain. Things that have not yet come to pass."
Ras Täfäri raised an eyebrow, thinking.
"You are a very special child, Alemayehu. Men like you are only born twice in a millennia. Even rarer is it for your gift to manifest so strongly so young. Now tell me. What do you see? Specifically?"
Alemayehu, for the first time, looked frightened. "I see white men and black men fighting each other. Black men who are not like the rest of us. They are faster. Stronger. They kill many and destroy much more. I see the world changing on a basic level. Feats so impressive they are almost magical. And you, Biḥērawī, at the center of it all. You will kill millions and save billions more."
Ras Täfäri hummed thoughtfully.
"When you see again, tell your father. He send for me. Your village will never have want for anything again, Alemayehu, as long as you tell me everything."
Raqqa, Syria
September 2, 2015
"Allah-u-Akbar[7]!"
"Duck!" Turkey shouted, covering his head with his hands and diving under a spare pile of rubble. America immediately heeded the Middle Eastern nation's advice, throwing himself behind a crumbling pillar. The resulting "boom!" left the superpower's ears ringing, with a cloud of sand and dirt flying up into the air.
America took a deep breath and adjusted his gun, positioning it into a shooting stance while he peeked over the side of the pillar. Broken-down buildings and the remnants of a human body greeted him, and the American relaxed ever-so-slightly, exiting his hiding place from behind the pillar and aiming his gun at any potential threats, scanning the rooftops and ruined buildings for rebel soldiers.
"Think that was the last of them?" He asked, lowering his gun ever so slightly, avoiding the bits of the terrorist now scattered about the clearing.
"Tch. It better be," Turkey responded, adjusting his metal helmet. "That's the fifth suicide soldier today. Any more and there won't be any troops left to fight us."
America nodded curtly, before making several hand signs behind him. Around fifteen or so American and Turkish soldiers made up the elite squad under Turkey and America's command. So far, the top-notch team had made their way deep into the heart of ISIS's capital, Raqqa, the city near deserted and demolished thanks to US bombing.
America and Turkey nodded to each other and pressed onwards, their soldiers following them silently as they made their way throughout the Raqqa's streets.
"It's such a waste," Turkey muttered as they ran throughout the city. "I remember Raqqa in its prime. It was truly a beauty to be beheld."
"I don't disagree," America replied. "I wish I had been there."
"I'm not surprised you do. Our cities easily put yours to shame."
America rolled his eyes but said nothing as they continued on.
The main forces of the USA, Turkey, and the other Middle Eastern countries had successfully wiped out most of the resistance in the city. Already, they were sieging the main building in the center of the city, where the last of ISIS's resistance had bunkered down, refusing to surrender.
The squad continued on through the city, encountering little resistance on the way. America grinned to himself. The plan was working well. The Afghanistan Campaign had finished only a couple days earlier, leaving Raqqa the only city now under ISIS control.
Time passed and the team made their way to the center building where the main Turkish and American forces had camped out outside the building, a several story tall building made of. Several tanks were stationed around it, men operating machine guns around it as the radical Muslims oddly refused to reply.
"What are they up to?" Turkey said, and America hummed in agreement, narrowing his eyes as he made his way to the regiment surrounding the capital building.
As they made their way to find the commander of the regiment, however, one of the soldiers started screaming in Turkish and running from the building, the unfamiliar words incomprehensible to America. He looked to Turkey for a translation, then tensed as he noticed the former empire stiffen and those who understood the language begin to dive for cover.
"Duck!" His ally cried, throwing himself to the ground just as he had with the suicide soldier earlier. Eyes widening, America also doubled down, throwing his hands over his head just as a deafening crack thundered across the city, followed by a burning heatwave. A stray brick hit the superpower in the shoulder, making him wince and curl into himself.
After a minute or two, America cracked his eyes open, first with his right eye, soon followed by his left as he slowly unraveled from his position, wincing and putting a hand to where the brick had hit him in the arm. That was going to leave a mark.
The building the ISIS officials had holed up was now gone, now an ashen pile of rubble on the ground. There was no trace of any survivors, the confused American soldiers slowly beginning to recover from the explosion, orders beginning to be shouted from the officers to their men.
"Well," Turkey's voice sounded behind him, and America turned to face the elder nation. "That's one way to defeat an enemy. Just let them kill themselves." [8]
[1]- Ramadi and Palmyra are in the Middle East. Derna, Benghazi, and Sirte are all cities in Libya.
[2]- On April 10, 2015, ISIS hackers hacked the Turkmenistan website in Belarus, posting a picture of an ISIS man on it. As you can see, Turkmenistan is still pissed about the event.
[3]- Tajikistan has banned said practices, along with several others, in their country. Colonel Khalimov was a Tajik who defected to ISIS around 2014 (I couldn't get a clear date).
[4]- ISIS stealing nukes from Pakistan is a real possibility.
[5]- From Ottoman influence. It makes Libya a bit of an anomaly in the African continent.
[6]- Italian for England
[7]- "Allah is the Greatest" in Arabic
[8]- I am so unsatisfied with these scenes. They're so bad it's embarrassing, but I couldn't figure out how to write it, so…
