LXVIII: Hero

Characters/Pairings: America, Poland. Ancient Nations, though unnamed as such.

Genre: Uh... Action/Adventure?

Rating: K+

Warnings: The Authoress channeling her inner six/ten-year-old and/or watching too much of "The Incredibles". Alternate Universe. A teeny little bit of language.

DISCLAIMER: Seriously? I think you guys get it by now. HETALIA ISN'T MINE. Nor is anything else I make a reference to, however obscure.

Alfred Frederick Jones II was much like any other child his age – which was six-and-a-half, thank you very much – he was energetic, a little ADHD, and very, very bright.

He wanted to be a million different things "when he got bigger" – not when he grew up, 'cause he would never grow up, just like Peter Pan – he wanted to be a firefighter, a police man, a lawyer, a truck driver, a racecar driver, a veterinarian.

But what he wanted to be, more than anything else in the whole wide world, was a superhero, just like Air Liberator and Arcmage and Britannia Angel and Lieutenant Savage and Cosmic Centurion, 'cause they were the best, most awesomest super heroes ever. And he was gonna be just like 'em, just you wait and see.

Four Years Later in Danville, USA

"Al? Alfred, where are you?" Grace called out as she searched the house for her son.

"I'm out here, Mom," Alfred yelled from outside. Grace sighed, walking through the living room and looking out the back door, only to see him sitting 30 feet up in the oak tree in their backyard.

"Alfred Frederick Jones, what the he-heck are you doing up there? Get down this instant!" she cried, running underneath the tree.

"But, Mom –"

"But Mom, nothin'! You get down from that tree right now! You'll fall and break something, and I am not paying for the ambulance to take you down to the emergency room again!"

"I'm not gonna fall and break somethin', Mom," Al protested, swinging his legs.

"You will, and then you're gonna have to wait until your daddy gets home and I can take you to the emergency room! Now get down," she demanded.

"But, Mom, I'm practicing to be a superhero! Everybody knows that superheroes don't fall! Look, I'll show you –" he said, slipping off the branch.

"Alfred, don't!" Grace screamed, shutting her eyes, expecting to hear the sickening crunch of breaking bones at any moment. She peeked one eye open, expecting to see her son lying on the ground, holding his tears in. Instead, she saw Al standing in front of her, looking concernedly up at her.

When he saw that she had cracked an eye open, he pouted. "Mom~, you weren't watching! You gotta watch me!"

She opened both eyes, surprised that Al was okay. "Al – how did you –"

"That's why you gotta watch, Mom! Promise me you'll watch this time," he begged as he started climbing back up the tree.

"Al –" she protested, moving closer under the tree.

"Promise!" he demanded, looking down at her from about 10 feet up.

"Promise you won't go as high this time, then?"
"Fine," he sighed, sitting on a branch. "But don't close your eyes this time! Not even a little bit! Promise me you won't!"

"I won't!" She promised, shielding her eyes against the sun. Alfred climbed a little higher, and then jumped off the branch. Grace gasped as she watched her son fall through the air, then as he started flying like the air was no more than water, giggling madly.

"See! I told you, Mom!" he bragged, promptly running into another tree and falling to the ground with a thud.

"No, I told you, Al."

Nine Years Later in Gogh City, USA

"Can I look now?" Al begged, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could.

"Not… quite… yet…" Feliks said through a mouthful of pins. After a few minutes of removing the rest of the pins, he set them down on the desk next to him. "Okay, now… open!"

Al obeyed, his eyes widening as he took in his new costume. The top was blue, with red and white stripes running the length of the arms, which were also encased in mid-arm length red gloves. His new logo – two F's made of silver stars – proudly sat in the middle of his chest, shining brightly in even the soft lights emitting from the ceiling. He had a red and white utility belt strapped around his waist – and just how the hell had Feliks got that on without him noticing? – followed by dark blue pants, finished off by red and white boots that came up to his knees.

"It's… this is…" he sputtered, for once at a complete loss for words.

"Totally amazing? I know," the designer gloated. "I must say, it's, like, totally some of my best work ever. But then, I think every piece I do is my best work ever."

"And are you wrong?" Al asked, giving the designer a huge grin.

"Of course not!" Feliks gasped. "I'm never wrong about these things. It still looks like it's missing something, though," he mused, tapping his chin with a sparkly pink fingernail.

Al gave the costume another look-over. It all looked pretty heroic – if not a little tighter than he'd like – but it was missing something. "What about a cape?"

Feliks stared at him, flabbergasted. "You're like, totally joking, right? I don't do capes. No capes!"

"Tyr and Aquaglory both have one! And I know you designed both of their costumes, don't even lie to me," Al whined.

"Tyr and Aquaglory can't fly, dahling. Do you know how many fatalities are caused by flight-enabled heroes who wear capes? 16 deaths each year. All because their designer decides that their costume needs a cape!"

"Fine," Al sighed. "No cape. Even though it would be totally awesome."

"Not with your powers, dahling. Do you really want to get sucked into a jet turbine?" Feliks asked as he ruffled through the layers of fabric on the desk.

"No…" Al mumbled.

"Didn't think so. A-ha! I found it!" the designer exclaimed, pulling out a small length of fabric. "Here, put this on," he ordered, handing it over to Al.

It was a simple blue mask, the outside lined with small white stars, and an additional two large stars on the very edge. He did as Feliks told him to, placing the mask onto his face. He was a little surprised when it stayed there, as it had no way of attaching to anything else, and even more surprised when it moved with his face, allowing for full vision. As he looked into the mirror, he grinned.

Freedom Fighter was ready for business.

A/N: Confused? I apologise. Here's some clarification (I hope).

Supers refer to anyone with powers. Mundanes refer to anyone without. The two generally don't cross, with the exception of people like Feliks.

Here's your (basic) guide to the Supers - the ones that are Alfred's heroes, anyway.

Air Liberator: Mama Iberia (Ancient Spain/Portugal)
Arcmage: Papa!Saxony (Ancient Saxons of Britain)
Britannia Angel: Mama!Celtics (Ancient Celts of Britain)
Lieutenant Savage: Germania
Cosmic Centurion: Roma Antiqua

Am I continuing this? Yes, yes I am (Am I done making Phineas and Ferb references? No, no I'm not). The final version will include all that you see here, plus Fem!England and... like, everybody else. With mild genderbending, because I can't resist.
Suggestions for a name for said fic would be very welcome! *hint, hint*
And, um, yes, the main ship will be US/UK. It's my one of my OTP's, okay? /

Thanks to StardustRudie, who has literally reviewed EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER. *gives love and cookies*