A/N: Read on and don't kill me~
Warning: Offensive racial slurs. All for the effect of the story. I love you all...
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"Alright, everyone outside, the fire works are ready!" Alfred called out over the crowd. Of course, he could have just simply shouted it, but no, he had to run upstairs so he could proclaim it from the highest point on the banister. Idiot.
But, it was a party, and so everyone was in too good a mood to call him out on it. So, the world walked outside, through large glass doors and into Alfred's backyard. The lot was spacious to say the least, seeing as how as a Nation, he need his secrecy. The lush, mowed grass rolled out into the dense forest surrounding the estate, closing it in from the outside world.
Alfred had somehow managed to get outside ahead of everyone and was standing in front of the crowd of murmuring nations. His sky blue eyes scanned the group, finding England just walking out the door to join Canada, and begrudgingly, France. Good thing Arthur had a handy glass of whiskey. Starting with his famous grin, he began to address his guests.
"Thanks for coming everyone, and I hope you're having a great time. The fireworks I've got set up this year are especially awesome, in honour of the 4th of July... and the 1st, also known as Canada day." He paused, soaking in Matthew's shocked expression and the surprised whispers all around the crowd. "Matt helped me set everything up earlier, because this year we're celebrating both of our birthdays."
England leaned over to whisper into Canada's ear. "Do you know what's going on?"
Canada shook his head. "I had nothing to do with this. Must've thought of it on his own." He smirked. "What a guy..."
"Alright, here we go!" America shouted excitedly, producing a remote control from his pocket. "Now, I just hope those last minute alterations won't blow up all of Washington..." He added under his breath so that no one else could hear.
With fingers crossed, Alfred pushed the button to activate the fireworks. Immediately, the first round shot up, exploding high up in the air. At first they were simple, just like any normal display. But as time went on, they become more an more complex,making one subtle tribute to each of the other Nations.
By the time Canada's added, longer portion went up- his flag, polar bears, maple leaves, and one even looked a bowl of poutine- America had made his way over to his stunned brother. The bright lights reflected in his glasses, adding to his wide eyed smile. "Wow Al..." He breathed,
"No problem." America grinned, already knowing by some twin telepathy thing that his brother was thanking him.
"No really, I mean, this is just amazing!" The Canadian laughed in delight, pulling his brother in for a tight hug. America laughed along with him, returning the bro-hug, patting his back before he pulled away.
"This really was a good thing for you to do." England commented.
Alfred scratched the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. "It wasn't that big a deal, but thanks."
The four of them watched the remainder of the fireworks in comfortable silence, marvelling in the show, and living in the peace of the moment. As the explosions grew more frequent and more extravagant, Arthur braced himself for what he knew was coming next- The Revolution Scene. Every bloody year, America had a little segment on the Revolution, and every bloody year, Arthur had to relive that bloody war. He would never admit it, but it hurt. So, he held himself strong as he waited for it to begin.
It never did. In fact, Arthur noticed, it didn't involve any scene of war at all. The finale covered the sky before them, a giant display of the earth, ending with a large round of applause from the other Nations, who after went back to their own idle chatter. The crowd began to disperse around the yard, leaving only America and England secluded in their spot.
Arthur's head shot to the taller young man, who smiled to himself, still staring up at the starry sky. "Alfred, you..."
"Yeah. I guess I just finally realized that not everyone only looked at the bright side of our past. So, this year I figured I should cut the whole 'war' theme. We're in a time of mutual peace, we shouldn't be dwelling on war." America explained, his eyes remaining on the sky, until he finished, when he smirked at the flustered nation.
"America...when did you grow so mature?" England asked, wide emerald eyes astounded.
America, sighed slightly, running his hand through his hair as he thought back. "I don't know, man. I guess, maybe it was during the Big Three crash back a few years. I was terrified that it would be another Great Depression, so I tried to smarten up. I went back to school, I tried to understand my people better, and it worked. I just didn't want to let everyone down again." He paused, grinning down at Arthur. "Heroes aren't suppose to let my fellow nations down!"
England elbowed him in the side with quirked lips. "Maybe you aren't so mature after all... just a little smarter." Alfred continued grinning though he double over slightly at the elder nation's jab. He looked back at Arthur, whose deep emerald gaze was penetrating his own. His eyes softened as he was drawn in, both only slightly aware that they were slowly getting closer to-
"Everyone freeze!"
Alfred and Arthur jerked away from each other with a start as a group of masked men jumped out of the woods, swarming around the crowd, completely cloaked in black to conceal their identities. Each one held a gun of various kinds, loaded and pointing at the crowd of nations. Now, these were nations mind you, each having lived through countless wars. As such, they were conditioned to remain calm and calculated in this kind of situation.
"Hands where we can see them!" Another man shouted.
The nations obeyed, their bodies tense, their faces collected as they raised their hands in the air. Once reassured that they had the group under control, the men relaxed a bit, if only to approach them with arrogance in their strides.
"Now, now, what do we have here." One said, all present able to hear the grin in his voice though his face was covered. "It looks like a fucking party mix." He began to point the gun directly at them as he walked down the line. Pointed at France, "A faggot," Russia, "a Commie," Romano, "a Wop," Germany, "and oh look, a Nazi."
Ludwig tensed as if to strike, his mask dropping at the simple mention of his country's past. The man cocked the gun. "Ah ah ah, we don't want any accidents, do we?" Germany looked to his left, seeing Prussia sending him the same look he gave him when he was a kid, clearly saying 'Don't do it.' With a low, inaudible huff, Ludwig slipped back into indifference.
Satisfied that he had shown them who was in charge, the man walked back to the rest of the black clad criminals. "Now, one hand drops. We want all of your money, wallets, whatever you've got, right here." He tapped his foot in front of him.
That was where the thugs met their mistake.
Faces still stone, they slowly dropped a hand down to their pockets- only to pull out their own weapons. No one knew where Russia managed to hide a machine gun.
"Right to bare arms, sounded like a good idea at the time." Alfred cursed under his breath as he held his pistol in proper form, unlike the thugs before them.
The men seemed to become panicked at the amount of weaponry pointed at them. "Put the guns down! I SAID PUT THE FUCKING GUNS DOWN!" Their leader screeched in fear.
"You have to right to say anything right now." England barked.
Veneziano, holding his own gun the way Germany taught him, glanced around at his fellow Nations. It seemed that between them and the thugs, neither would back down- the criminals if only for their fear of getting caught or out numbered. It could very well come to a bullet shower, and he knew this, but it was the last thing he wanted. And so, always a lover, not a fighter, North Italy stepped forward to try to negotiate, surprising everyone. "Please, we can just-"
BANG
It all happened too fast. In panic of the out of control situation, the leader fired at Italy. The bullet lodged itself into Italy's right forearm, pushing him back. He fell into Japan, though he remained standing, crying in pain and clutching his bleeding arm.
"Italy!" Both Germany and Japan shouted. Not caring if he was shot at too, Ludwig dashed to the smaller young man's side.
The criminals, in their terror, ran back into the forest they came from, dropping their weapons and tripping over themselves as they fled. The nations, though would not let them get away after hurting innocent little Italy. "Vaffonculo!" Romano cursed, running after them along with an enraged Spain, America, England, France, Prussia, Japan and the other more vengeful-natured countries.
Germany, however, stayed behind, no matter how much he wanted to shoot the bastards. Italy needed him more. "Let me see." He commanded, though his voice remained gentle.
Italy bit his lip, moving his hand, revealing his navy shirt soaked in blood, dripping down his hands. Germany cursed, before shedding his jacket and pressing his firmly over the wound, bracing Italy's shoulder with his other hand. Feliciano whimpered at the pressure.
"W-We should call an ambulance..." Liechtenstein whispered, stepping out from behind her big brother since she didn't have a gun.
"No, Lili. The blood of a nation is different from the blood of a human. We can't let the world know what we are, it would cause too much commotion." Switzerland explained
Ludwig paid no attention to the panicked murmurs around him, his eyes souly on the bleeding boy. Without him noticing, Matthew had run over. "Come on, Alfred has an infirmary in the back. We can fix him up there." Germany nodded. Matthew looped Feliciano's uninjured arm over his shoulders and helped Ludwig into the house.
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It wasn't suppose to be like this.
They were suppose to be enjoying the fireworks display, having a good time, and forgetting about the fact that they were centuries, millennial for some, old. It was suppose to be a night to remember, but not in this way. Those were America's thoughts as he chased the little bastards that had ruined everything, and hurt Italy.
After what seemed like days, they stumbled into a small clearing. The change in surroundings distraught the band of criminals, causing them to hesitate for a split second- all the nations needed. Romano was the first to strike, tackling the closest to the ground in a flurry of punches. Out numbered, out sourced and out smarted, the young men fell all too quickly.
"This- is- for- mio- Fratello!" Romano shouted, putting emphasis with each blow. He repeatedly struck the young man's face, long after he had passed out, nasty bruises forming on his skin.
"Lovino! Stop, he's done!" Spain called to his former charge, pulling him off the young man. Romano struggled against the stronger man's hold before he finally backed off, stomping away from the bloody mess he left. Antonio walked after him, trying to get him to calm down.
The unconscious thugs were pulled into a heap in the middle of the clearing, America holding onto his a little longer. He held him up by the collar of his shirt. "Who the hell are you?" He demanded.
The man, the one who had shot Feli either coughed or chuckled, it was difficult to tell. "What, you don't even remember me, Jones?"
"What..." Alfred knew that voice. With trembling hands, he reached up and pulled the black covering off his head, revealing a familiar face. "G-Gregory Johnson?" He muttered in shocked. Greg grinned up at him, in that sick, twisted way the monsters do in your worst nightmares.
"Miss me?"
With a furious cry, Alfred punched him straight across the face, knocking him out in a less than humain way. He stopped for a moment to even his fast, ragged breath, not noticing when England walked up behind him.
"You knew him?" He asked, quietly.
"Yeah... remember when I went back to school a while ago? To understand my people a bit better?Well, he was one of those ass holes who gave everyone a hard time. Wasn't too fond of me because I was always the one sticking up for everyone." Alfred explained, not moving from his spot.
"I see... so he had a vendetta against you." Arthur knelled down beside the younger man.
"Yeah but... nothing to this extreme. He must've taken one dark path out of school." America looked down at his battered face, taking note of the hollow cheeks and dark circled eyes. "A few years in prison ought'a set him on track. After what he did to Feli, all because he had a little grudge against me..."
Before he knew it, Arthur was sitting on the ground in front of him, placing his hand on the younger nation's back. "I see where this is going America. It is not your fault. You had no idea what was going to happen, you couldn't have prevented it." England stated.
Alfred released a shaky sigh, not allowing himself to look weak in front of England. "But if I had better control over my people..."
"No. Don't you dare blame yourself."Arthur shook his head.
Alfred let himself fall limp into the older nation, burying his face in his shoulder. "Too late..."
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So, yeah, now you may all have an idea of why America will feel he has something to prove XD