Geek: Yo, I know I haven't updated much this summer but I've been working on a big writing project, band camp, and a high school summer project. Hope you review! :D

Arthur's emerald eyes burned with a fiery and angry light that rivaled that of hellfire. If there was any time period that he hated me the most, it was the Hundreds Year War. This was a very close second.

"State why you're here, Frog." He growled.

"Listen...Angleterre, I-"

"You know what, I seriously doubt whatever you spit out as truth is false, and I do not want to hear it. I'm most certainly not in the mood. I'd rather like to defeat you." Smirks Arthur.

"Yeah well wait a little longer you'll get your wish." I muttered.

"What was that? Was that an insult, Pepe le Pew?", asks Arthur, holding the sword closer to my neck, "Rather daft of you to do that on my ship, in my ocean, and unarmed."

"...Anglete-Arthur, I think if we listen to reason-" I attempt to say again.

"Stop moving your forked tongue, Frog. We duel on the deck."

Arthur turned to the door and kicked it open with a dark brown tanned boot.

"Allistor! Dylan! Get down here!" He barks.

Footsteps can be heard coming down an unknown set of wooden stairs and two men I've come to know well come into the room. Scott's dark rich red hair is spiky and wild, and his deep green eyes shimmer. On his chin was soft red fuzz. He wears a very ripped up and faded dark blue shirt, a leather belt and tan pants and the hilt of a knife and the butt of a pistol peeking out under a blood red sash tied around his hips. He wore dark black boots and had piercings along his ears. Wales' usual cheerful, innocent demeanor was waned. His usual blond hair was unruly and wild and his blue-green eye glinted coldly. An eyepatch was tied around one of his eyes and he wore a dirty white shirt and baggy dark brown pants with black boots. A pistol, a compass, and a telescope were tied around his waist.

As anyone could tell, Scotty and Wales looked ruggedly handsome.

"Take him to the upper deck. He seems to already have a rapier and at least one pistol so he should some slim chance to beat him so just watch him until I come back up. Should only take a tick." He ordered.

Allistor rolled his eyes and grabbed my right arm forcefully.

"Let's go, git." He grunts. His breath smells like alcohol and cigar smoke.

Wales grabs my other arm without saying a word and they both drag me up the steps until I have to squint my eyes at the sudden light change: blazing sun, blue sky and thin, feathery white clouds. They both shove me up the steps and I fall to my knees before slowly standing up and brushing off my trousers and seating myself on a crate. The Kirkland brothers look to each other, having a silent conversation with only their eyes.

"You seem pretty tame about this." Mutters Allistor, pulling out a cigar and a match and lighting it.

I shrug. "Why do I need to be scared? War and battles have become numb to me at this point so…"

Allistor smirked and shook his head. "Same old Francis. Ey, when this whole war is over let's go for a pint at a bar."

"Same old Scott." I reply, smiling mischievously.

"Quit flirtin' with the enemy, Scott." Dylan mutters.

"Flirtin'? This is nothin', Dylan." Laughs Scotland.

"Why am I not surprised?" Wales sighs, rolling his eyes.

"Because we're brothers and that's what you do, mate. Just because we're gettin' a little wrapped into Toni's little identity crisis doesn't mean I can't have fun."

"Oi! Quit talking with the Frog, Allistor!" England's voice barked as he came up the steps, a pistol hanging at his side.

Scotland growled. "The only reason I'm helping you is because I don't want Dylan, Aedan and Tomas to get hurt from you like you did to me. Like it or not Arthur I'm the eldest. And even though you're an empire now doesn't mean someone will stop you."

England smirked and walked up to the red haired Scot and put a gun under his chin.

"Very unwise of you to talk so boldly Scottie. I beat France. I beat Spain. I beat you and it felt wonderful. What country will dare fight the British Empire? You? Ha! That'd be rich!" He laughs coldly.

He fiercely shoved his brother and turned his murderous gaze to me.

"Oh I'm fired up now." Arthur growls, holstering his gun and whipping out his rapier instead.

He lunged, giving me little time to quickly draw my sword and block. He and I jumped back, our deadly dance just starting. He quickly pulled out his pistol and started shooting at me. I ran and quickly got close to him as he was loading another round. I knocked the pistol out of his hands and kicked it to an unknown part of the ship's deck.

"You bastard!" He shouted and started to slice at me.

I blocked, feinted, and countered every movement, getting more and more tired as he mercilessly slashed at me, his intent very clear. Bloodlust shimmered in his eyes coldly as he finally did pierce me on the right of my stomach. I winced and jumped back quickly and felt the cut. It wasn't too deep, but enough to break skin. And damn did it sting. Arthur laughed, a mad light dancing in his eyes. As he strided over to me he slowly licked the blood that stained the iron sword. I quickly grabbed my gun with the hand that wasn't holding my side and ripped open a round and poured the gun powder and bullet into the pistol. I had one shot to make before he would be on me, and with my cut not seeming to heal anytime soon I had to make the shot count. I waited for a closer shot and he cackled.

"Really?! You think one measly bullet will stop me? I am the British Empire you fool! Nothing will break me down! And you'll all bow to me!" He laughed insanely.

Just as he was about to cut me down, I squeezed the trigger. It hit him square in the stomach and he looked at me, his eyes wide. He dropped his sword and it fell to the wood floor with a clank. He clutched both hands to his stomach and all of a sudden, a dark green liquid with yellow specks came out of his lips, and it spilled onto the wood before turning the color of blood. He let both hands go of the wound in his stomach and his whole body where the bullet hit seemed to be pixelated green and yellow, with red liquid dripping off the cuts. He fell to the ground and looked up at me.

"I know England. And you are certainly not him. He fights better than you." I scoff before continuing. "And there will be a day when you are defeated. The year will be 1783. And you'll hate me even more."

I turned away from 'England' and walked over to a door that had an unnatural bright light behind it. I looked at Scotland and Wales.

"You may want to help that thing, you creatures." I growl before walking through the light in the door and seeing nothing but white.