A New World

Wow. I didn't expect that many people to show interest in a day. My last short story it took about 2 days for me to get this amount of visitors. So thank you for that. A special thanks to LucediDio for the favorite and follow. Because of that, I decided to update again.

You know the drill: don't own the manga/anime or game.

There have been many times that America actually managed to lose consciousness for varying different reasons.

A forth of it could be blamed on himself, usually the conclusion of an idea gone wrong. The time he tried to rodeo a grizzly bear is the more frequently brought up by his brother now-a-days. Second only to the argument with Mexico that led them to a boxing ring then to a hospital- both countries agreed in their respective hospital beds that Coka-Cola was still good no matter where it was produced.

Half of it could be contributed to situations he placed himself in such as joining a military branch in a time of war. One way or another (bullet to the head, cannon fire, explosives, and etc.) he would end up unconscious, it was an occupational hazard really.

The last forth was that he had plain crap luck sometimes.

His head was still ringing from getting hit by . . . Something. He remembered the ship sinking and going overboard. He even managed to find his way to some solid land then- then he started calling out for the others and tried to make his way over? Yes, that's what happened. But how did he get hurt this time? Did he trip?

Alfred's vision never did focus completely.

There were blurs of light (they kept flickering- candles?) and a familiar type of damp smell. A cave, he was in a cave. But what was that rotting smell then?

America felt something rough scratching along his back- not important his brain categorized because what is important is that the pain hasn't stopped yet. America felt water (water? Yes, water) hit his forehead. It made the ringing in his head feel louder. He turned his head away from it.

And promptly passed out once again.

Once again Alfred regain consciousness, vision still blurred and head still pounding.

He felt of weightlessness, constriction, and lightheadedness about him.

For the third time, the nation lost consciousness.

America woke with a start. His face was covered in dirt, but that seemed to be the least of his concerns. His head hurt almost as much as it did back in 1860's- or anytime the parties argued really. He even seemed to have trouble breathing. None of this stopped him, however, from realizing that he was hanging upside down in some type of cocoon- wrapped in rope first and followed by a rough paper covering.

Absentmindedly, he also realized his vision is still blurry. It could've been just because his headache or because blood was rushing to his head as he thought. He was a nation; it would take a bit longer before he felt any effects of hanging upside down.

Wait . . . Nation . . .

He didn't have his glasses.

He swore he had them last night with Mattie.

When did he not put on Texas? (Because NO, he did not lose them)

Maybe they dropped on the ship- oh fuck, Texas is at the bottom of the ocean now sh-

Okay America, now is not the time for this- priorities.

Alfred scoped out as much as he could with his limited vision. He could barely see what looks like another cocoon (because that what they really were, if he had to describe them) in front of him and with the light behind said cocoon were candles. A lot of candles from the multiple blurry bright lights.

While Alfred's vision was limited, that did nothing to stop his other senses. He could hear an echoing sound of water in the distance of the cave caverns. His mouth was so dry that it really didn't help with his breathing problem, Alfred panted in an effort to receive more air. The only useful sense seemed to be coming from his nose. America was experienced with death as any nation would be so he recognized the smell. The smell of the decaying and the emptying of the bowels was never a pleasant thing.

"Hello?" Alfred said those words in a quiet tone, almost hoping nobody would hear him. Nothing changed- no signs of anyone nearby. Just America and this unnatural stillness. That didn't sit well with him.

"Help!"

"Canada?"

"Mexico?!"

"HELP!"

With each word, America grew louder. Surely someone, anyone, was nearby.

His voice only echoed back to him.

Finally, America started growing tired of all this (the silence, fear, headache-). Alfred flexed his arms to break out of his rope confines . . .

All he accomplished was making himself sway.

Utterly confused why the ropes didn't break (it's just regular rope, he checked again), Alfred attempted once again. He was met with the same results.

Was there something wrong with him?

Did his kidnapper (there's no was in hell it's anything else at this point) do this?

That means they would know what he was! So if that's the case, w-

His thoughts were interrupted by his own head. The throbbing seemed to have worsened as he was stressing himself out.

Okay, ow shit. Worry about all that later. Right now, get out. Get down. America reevaluated his situation once more.

Near him was another cocoon - it was attached to a wooden pole that was sticking out of the outcrop of the cave wall in a horizontal position.

Behind the cocoon were the candles that America took notice of before.

. . . .

Well he's had worse ideas

America lunged his whole body in the direction of the other cocoon. It took a couple of swings for America to finally even nudge it. With one final swing at the other cocoon, it finally connected with the candles. It didn't take long before the cocoon was engulfed in flames, subsequently also letting a skeleton drop from it and crashing loudly with objects below. Ever slowly the flames climbed their way from the cocoon, up the rope, and finally surrounding the wooden pole.

Alfred gulped a breath of air before resuming his swinging.

This time towards the fire encased pole

At the final swing that would bring him (completely encased in his own rope and papery cocoon) in contact with the flames, Alfred uttered one sentence.

"This – This is gonna fucking hurt."

With that his rope finally caught on fire.

Alfred let out a cry of pain when he felt the utter burning sensation around his legs and as it climbed up his body. His body automatically started fighting back, wiggling about.

That rope didn't stand a chance.

The rope and paper of the cocoon snapped in multiple places before they couldn't carry the weight of an adult male any longer.

With that, America fell.

I'm most likely going to update twice a month, three if I'm lucky.