You'll find out a little more about the Organization.

Warning: Angst, confrontation, mention of war and weapons, smoking, OC.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I have fun manipulating their characters, though

Styx

The embodiment of Virginia gave a satisfied sigh and examined her work. "Ah, you don't know how long I've wanted to do that."

Alfred wrinkled his nose. "What kind of greeting is that?"

Red redirected her attention to Alfred and said somewhat offhandedly, "Oh, yeah. Hey, Pops."

Alfred's smile only broadened. "Ya know, I'm too happy to be offended by that."

"Kinda figured." Red took a big breath and exhaled, scratching her nappy head. Her signature red hair stretched down to just below her ears, some strands retaining their usual ringlet pattern. She scrubbed at her face. "Augh, I fucking hate that mask. So stuffy and sweaty and it itches like hell."

Alfred's legs were still wobbly with the previous events of the night, and the sight of the gutted Organization member stretched out in the snow a few feet away made him want to throw up, but he extended his arms nonetheless. "My God, I thought you were dead."

Red walked toward him only to push his arms aside to examine the line of nations before him. "Ah, don't get all sappy. This place'll be swarming with Organization scum within the hour."

This was not the little girl Alfred had heard on the phone before he'd left his doomed apartment in Manhattan. That was a side Red seldom allowed anyone to see, a side only revealed when under intense stress and pressure. This was the real Red. Stubborn, indifferent, and no-nonsense. Pigheaded, New Jersey had once joked before one of his eyes was sporting a delicate purple complexion in the not-so-curious shape of seasoned knuckles.

Red crossed her arms and scanned her green eyes over what was left of all the nations of the world, her slightly bushy eyebrows coming together a bit when her gaze passed over the gagged Arthur. "England," she addressed coolly.

Arthur grunted in response before Francis had the sense enough to extract the rag from his mouth. The Briton spat a little and coughed, his words raspy. "Virginia, what, how…?"

"They called you Rusty," Alfred said, pondering. Then the answer came to him from the back of his frazzled mind:

"… to Baron, Rusty to Baron, when will you give the all clear?"

"10 tomorrow morning… guns and grenades ready… all out assault on Terminal 3… finally smoke that bastard out…"

Alfred's jaw dropped. "But you were… on the radio… Rusty, you, and-and—"

Arthur seemed to recall as well, and he stared in disbelief. "You were working with them?"

Red shrugged. "Yeah, I was there, and I was gonna storm that airport with them. Doesn't mean I was on their side, though."

Ivan eyed her suspiciously. "Well, do explain."

Red paused in her pacing to examine the area before returning her gaze to them. "We can't afford to stay here for much longer. Someone's bound to have heard those gunshots. We have to leave now."

Needless to say they weren't reluctant to get the hell out of that place. Feliciano was sobbing in shock of the gore and violence, and it was a struggle to get him calm enough to strap him into the van. All the while they were packing their things and cramming their belongings and themselves into the vans, Alfred's eyes were trained on his daughter. It was hard for him to imagine that she could kill so easily and violently, she who had the appearance of a sixteen-year-old—just like how he had killed so brutally himself earlier. But, then again, barely anything shocked him in this world now, especially killing. It had become a necessary trial of life, and if Red was actually infiltrating the Organization, she would know all about that, possibly more than Alfred himself did.

Red caught him staring then, and it was only when she shoved him toward the door of a van and snapped, "Stop gawking, and get in!" that Alfred realized everyone had already taken their seats. Alfred stumbled inside. He noticed that the van wasn't nearly as crammed as it should have been, even when Red squeezed in beside him. The sadness and nostalgia silenced him, and everyone else followed suit, as if afraid the Organization would hear even a whisper, they were so close to their headquarters.

Now they were truly aware of how looming their victory or doom was.

Ivan was driving (Alfred would have commented on how scared shitless the Russian driving them was if he didn't remember what had conspired between them earlier that night), and Red directed him out of Bethesda, Yao, who manned the other vehicle, following them. They were soon rounding an onramp out to—

"Wait!" Alfred yelled so suddenly and so loudly that Ivan slammed on the brakes. They all slumped forward, and Matthew, who was sharing the backseat with Alfred, nearly broke his nose on the passenger seat's headrest.

Red whipped her head around. "What the hell, old man?"

Alfred blinked inanely for a moment, getting over the shock of their sudden stop to remember what he was going to say. After a few moments, he demanded, "Where are you taking us?"

Red scoffed, as if Alfred was supposed to know the answer. "Where else? Away."

"Away?" Alfred sputtered and stared at Red for a moment longer. When her determined gaze never wavered, Alfred unbuckled his seat belt and proceeded to tug at the door handle. "Open the door," he ordered of Ivan who only stared at him, at a loss as to Alfred's purpose. When Alfred gained no response, he began to pull quickly and harshly, as if trying to rip the thing off. "Open the goddamn door!"

Ivan, though hesitant, did as requested, and Alfred threw the door back so hard that the wheels used to guide it open snapped off their hinges and rolled helplessly in the groove beneath. He practically bounded out and, fists clenched and jaw set, he set off in the direction from which they came. Behind him, the passenger's side door flung open, and Red hopped out.

"Alfred!" she called in frustration. "Where are you going?"

Alfred didn't stop or turn back. Couldn't afford to. "I sure as hell didn't come all the way the fuck out here to run away!"

On the road, the other van screeched to a halt, and the doors flew open. Arthur rushed out along with all of the passengers. "Alfred! Get back here, you git!"

"No!" he shouted. "She's leading us out! When we're so close!"

"I've got it handled, old man!"

"The fuck you do, Ginny!"

"Don't you dare call me that!" Red shouted back, her voice quivering just a little.

"Alfred." It wasn't a yell or a growl or an order. Alfred could barely hear the voice, it was so small and far away. It did, however, make him stop.

"Alfred," Ivan repeated. He had put the van in park and come around to stand beside Red. "You know you will not accomplish anything by running off."

Alfred, as much as he hated to admit it, knew Ivan was right, and it embarrassed him to have to be told that as if he were just a stupid child. He brooded as he trudged back through the three-inch snow, and he was standing before his group, which had formed upon the sight of his erratic behavior. He crossed his arms and glowered.

"I'm not turning back," he restated. "Not now."

Red took up a similar stance, and the similarity of their appearances was uncanny. "No. No, Alfred, I'm not letting you go there."

Alfred was exasperated. He refused to accept that two months of physical and mental torment could be endured all for nothing. "Have you forgotten who I am? Who we are? We're nations, and we've come to clean up our shit. And I am your father. Like it or not, I know more than you do, and you are still one of my states. I won't have my daughter denying me the right to march into those bastards' headquarters and cave all their fucking heads in!"

"I know what you are," Red replied insolently. "And you're not invincible! Do you have any idea what would happen to the world if all of you were killed? I'm a state, not a country, Alfred. I'm not as important. If I'm killed—"

"No," Alfred snapped in a way that made Red shut her mouth and stare. "I'm tired of having everyone else try to fix what's my fault. Don't you even suggest sacrificing yourself for my sake. I am your father, and you are my daughter. That's not how it works." Before Red could gather herself enough for a reply, Alfred addressed the rest of them, "I don't know about you guys, but I haven't come this far, haven't gone through so much shit, haven't lost three good countries, just to find a safe place to hide until I'm hunted down and killed. I know we haven't really planned this far and that we've had little information to go off of, but everyone who's a victim of the Organization deserves our help. If I die, I want to take as many of those bastards with me as I can. Red,"—the girl locked eyes with him now, green and wide—"I know you want me safe, but no matter what you do, I'm going. The best you could do is tell us all how you came to be part of them and anything else we might need to bring them down."

Red glanced down, only for a moment ashamed. Then she gathered herself and licked her chapped lips. "Well… you remember that phone call, right?"

Alfred remembered vividly the desperate call Red had made him to order him to the airport for escape only to be part of the Organization team to surround and infiltrate it. Instead of wasting their precious time pointing this out, he merely nodded in answer.

Red continued, "When I made that call, I had been part of the Organization for a month. Before that, I had been laying low over at Penny's place, though Penny wasn't anywhere to be found. I picked up Jeremy on my way, and Malachi tried to reach me as well as Martin, but we lost contact with them early on (1). We remained hidden for a couple of weeks, sustained by what amenities we had and attention passed over us for the time being. The Organization was forming within the capital, pulling its members from senior officials and common rioters alike. As I've been told by other members, this was when the small group of corrupted politicians joined together to form what is called the Council. No one knows for sure just who is on it, but as far as I know they govern most of the daily activities of the Organization, though the Overlord oversees them. No one knows who he is either, by the way. Never seen him, but we can hear him occasionally during important announcements.

"Anyway, as I was saying, Jeremy and I were holed up pretty good for a while in Penny's cabin in the mountains out west in her state. Had everything we needed, except information on what the hell was going on everywhere else. One day, Jeremy decided that he'd had enough of sitting around and set out to explore what was left of his towns. I went after him and tried to get him to stay put, but… we got into a little argument, and he, um, he left me. He said he was going to get some tinder, but… you know, he never came back. And that was the last I ever saw of him. The damned predictable idiot." Red paused here to clear her throat and wipe at her nose with a gloved hand. "So I was kind of on my own from there on out. I went to Philly, 'cause I thought Penny would be there. I couldn't find her, but I certainly found someone else. They were there, and they were gathering soldiers, weeding out those who opposed their ideas, though they had most of the army on their side at that time. I almost stumbled into them and thought of confronting them, but I knew I wouldn't have a chance of winning. So I wandered, trying my best to avoid them, until I came upon a dead rioter. He had a gas mask on. I took that, cut my hair, and bound my chest. I presented myself to them as a potential recruit to their force, claiming that I was a carrier of some contagious disease and possessed a scarred face I wished not to show to explain the mask. To put them further at ease, I said that I was a sixteen-year-old boy whose family was killed by the Philadelphia police force during a protest. I was accepted at once, and to them I was just another mercenary to do the Overlord's bidding.

"There's this saying within the Organization: Let the chains of the old world be cast off. It must be said every morning gathering and every evening gathering. It taints my mouth. The others say it like it's a treat, but it's a slow-acting poison. Everyone I've spoken to, everyone I've ever met within the Organization, has lost all semblance of who they once were. They're all the same. Every day they become more like their masters, brainwashed. I don't know how they were brainwashed, but it happens so fast. I would blink, and they'd be a completely different person. I soon found, after I was taken into their ranks, that I could have no longtime friends. Their minds would all deteriorate before my eyes. But I noticed, and so I remained the same.

"I knew something sinister was going outside of the fact that the Organization was plotting to take over the country. So, I paved my way to the capital by performing exceptionally in my drills and on my missions. I was sent to headquarters with recommendations from my superiors, and I was immediately placed as a squad captain. During my time there, I carried out my duties without suspicion and with enough skill that no one had any reason to suspect me of anything. I used this trust and authority to my advantage. As a captain, I was awarded a position on a panel of other leaders called the Board. They examine potential recruits and assign them their rank and, basically, dictate all military activity. All of those who were assigned to me I caught before the Organization could put them under their control. There are rituals squad captains are supposed to carry out involving a type of mantra that, if repeated enough, will render the speaker practically mindless. We're supposed to make new soldiers repeat this every hour, on the hour, for a week or longer, if they were hard to break. Everyone else did it, but not me. Once I could trust my recruits and it became clear to them that their friends under other captains were no longer themselves, they became determined to topple the Organization. We have conspired, even set up a secret location so far unpenetrable by Organization eyes, and we've all pretended to be under their sway.

"But, be warned, their eyes are everywhere, especially since there are few like my own company who would be more than willing to lie about seeing you. The Organization has extended its influence greatly since taking over all the prominent radio channels, and it's been broadcasting every day. They preach about how the world can come together under one authority, how leaving all the responsibility to the government would prevent conflict between people and put everyone at ease." Red scoffed. "As absurd or impossible as it sounds, the so-called 'Fellowship of Man' has managed to persuade countless numbers of people around the globe. Some countries have already submitted to their power, including Great Britain. As soon as the Germans sided with the FoM, the rest of what used to be the EU followed suit.

"Everything that you've probably heard is true. D.C. is in ruins, and I haven't seen Dillon (2) at all since the Uprising, but he's no doubt having convulsions. Most everything is rubble except for the Washington Monument. That they lied about taking down. That's so no one entering the district suspects it's a watch tower. They've rigged almost the entire perimeter with explosives to provide a plume of smoke so that scouts know where to pick up the pieces of someone who opposed them and gun down the survivors. I know where the scout outposts are and much more, but the longer half of the explaining will have to be done when we're safely in the hideout.

"Now, about the whole Rusty thing. Within the Organization, I am known as such, and, yes, I did head the mission to the airport in Queens. But listen: I only did it to keep my cover. I told you to go there because it was the only airport that I knew to still have fuel, and I was hoping you'd be discreet in getting there, Alfred, but…" She shook her head and sighed. "Well, I only suspected you'd make a racket. Those two guys that saw you escaping your apartment… they reported back and the Overlord ordered an immediate plan of action. I had to go along. It would have been nice if you had left sooner, and I'd been hoping that you had, but that pilot I sent in for you… he killed himself, didn't he?" She gave an exasperated, hollow laugh. "I can't rely on anyone anymore, even if I pay them, but at least you're all right. All of you.

"I could go on forever about all that I've seen and heard, but now it's probably best to be off." Here, she took time to catch her breath and afterward eyed the vans. "More likely than not they'll be looking for vehicles. We'll drive as far as the Potomac and then we'll be rowing the rest of the way."

"Rowing?" Francis parroted regretfully, and Arthur said, "You mean to say that you've procured boats?" Honestly, he'd thought they would all be stolen.

Red laughed a laugh as rough and pitiful as weathered stone. "If you call stealing canoes 'procuring.'"

The sun was painting the sky in delicate pinks and harsh copper hues by the time they had pulled onto a narrow two-lane road framed by a mass of trees whose winter-parched branches wound upward like old beggar's fingers. For a moment, they were sheltered. For a moment, it was as if nothing had ever changed. Just them, with the sky arching above and the sun extending bright tendrils to warm the windows of the vans. Clouds gathered, spilled their contents; winds picked up storms, swept them across the world; the moon rose, lit the night until the morning sunlight chased away its dominion; a new dawn, a new day, wash, rinse, repeat. It was the only thing that any of them were ever absolutely sure of. They were also sure of the fact that it would continue to go on even after they were dead. If they couldn't accomplish what they wanted, at least those they failed would have the sunrise.

Arthur had long given up stressing the importance of communication between them. It was nigh on impossible with all that had happened. One tended to grow silent the more their ability to dictate their life through their voice was chipped away. They were all separate but equal in their brooding and grief. At least Arthur knew that.

All too soon the trees became sparse, and the sheen of sunlight reflecting off the wind-tossed waves of the Potomac came into view between the dark trunks. There was soon a break in the trees, and Red directed them through, down to the whipped water. The sun was fully up by then, hovering just over the horizon. The air was crisp and the wind softer than it had been on the plains, but it carried with it the scent of smoke and dust and blood. Despite being well upstream from the heart of the district, Alfred could clearly see the apex of dome arcs and the tips of spires watching them over the tops of the bare trees—a grave threat from what used to be friendly, familiar sights.

Alfred moved from foot to foot, hugging himself, nose and ears numb and breath a mist before him. He tore his eyes away from the distant sentinels and fixed them on the four battered canoes being hauled into the river, bobbing on the current.

"I'm tired of waiting," he said, sniffing and pulling his coat further up around himself. His coat, that was stained with his blood, his friends' blood… the blood of the man he'd beaten into chopped steak. He walked to the shore and followed Ivan into a canoe without thinking, though the Russian didn't protest. Alfred's legs felt stiff and cramped from sitting in the vans for so long, but they had the function of noodles. One step in, and the canoe bobbed away. Alfred would have fallen into the frigid waters, black with war and blood, if Ivan had not caught his arm and steadied him. Alfred knew the man was looking at him, but he could not meet his gaze. It hurt now more than it ever had to do. So, Alfred cleared his throat, snatched his arm back, and plopped down into the hollow of the canoe, snatching up a paddle to distract himself from the eyes burning into the back of his head.

"Guess we shouldn't drink the water, eh?" Matthew said without much amusement as he joined them, and Alfred was grateful that his sitting in the middle blocked Ivan's view of him. He handed Matthew his paddle after stirring the clotted waters.

"I wouldn't touch it either," Red called over. She had a paddle in hand, pushing off from the melting shoreline. She was alone, as was only expected; strangers, despite their relation, were still instinctively suspected, especially now that they had lost group members to those they thought would aid them. Alfred wished he had gone with her, even so. It seemed only right. Alfred could still feel the heat of Ivan's grip on his forearm. He rubbed the feeling away and sniffed again.

Feliciano didn't like the trees. Their sharp, spindly branches that jabbed at the sky and the piles of snow suffocating the shriveled roots only served to remind him of his brother. Everywhere he looked, he saw the shadow of Lovino's corpse suspended between the trunks, as if in warning. Falling stars, Feliciano thought suddenly as he clutched his coat tighter around him. His eyes fell to his lap, and he tried to focus on the constant swish of Ludwig's paddle slicing through the death-clogged water and the sway of the canoe the shifting of his weight caused, like a cradle. He'd always loved to see falling stars. Why don't I want to see them now? The tightness that gripped his chest as he thought it over was like nothing he had ever felt.

So quiet. That's all Kiku could think. Not the usual quiet most are used to, but an insanely deafening quiet; the loudness of the silence was harsh inside his head, and his eardrums were contracting as if in confusion, as if they didn't know whether to function or not. No birds. No rustle of leaves. As soon as they had stepped into the canoes, it seemed like the wind had been shut off at the flick of a switch, like nature knew what was coming and was checking out of the chaos before it even began. Not even a whisper of air sailed past Kiku's face, and, as much as he would have appreciated that fact while freezing out on the plains, he began to miss that reassuring sensation that at least reminded him he was more than a hollow egg covered by a weak shell carried in the clumsy hands of Fate.

The silence begged to be broken, having been devoid of most cheerful noise for some time. But they were too close to speak. Open your mouth, and you wake the sleeping dragon.

The wind had stopped, yes, but the current was strong. Ludwig could practically feel the form of the river struggling to pull its heavy load of thick, inky sludge and oily slime down to the Chesapeake, where surely nothing lived anymore. It tugged at his paddle, nearly snatching it away from him at one point. It gulped at the sides of their canoes, threatening to swallow, and Ludwig wasn't so sure if he found the idea altogether displeasing.

The sun was beautiful as it hung low in the sky and made its ascent in a graceful, millennial arc. But the river barely noticed. It drank the light up greedily, rendering itself an opaque, writhing mass, escorting them ever so kindly to their horrid destination. Alfred no longer knew this river. He wondered when the other had been chased away.

They arrived at a bend that sent them tilting, and Francis bit his lip as some of the black ooze schlupped onto his hand. He wiped it off on his pant leg and waited for it to eat through the weather-worn material to his thigh.

A tune came to mind with the sluggish sway of the river current, the way the paddles swished through the water, the canoes' cargo. Alfred soon began to hum it, recalling the lines and running them through his head as if it were one hundred years ago when he had thought he had already witnessed everything that could be called chaotic. How he never imagined, being so young and stupid and blind, that everything could go so wrong. The nostalgia weighed heavily on the words arriving at the forefront of his mind.

I've got a mule, her name is Sal

Fifteen years on the Erie Canal

She's a good old worker and a good old pal

Fifteen years on the Erie Canal

The canoe got too close to the shoreline. Matthew raised a dripping paddle to push off back into the current. The canoe swayed again, almost soothing. Alfred's face was numb with cold and his nose was running badly, but what would have bothered him years before he barely paid mind to now. It seemed stupid to wipe his nose when it would only run again.

We've hauled some barges in our day

Filled with lumber, coal, and hay

And every inch of the way we know

From Albany to Buffalo

Was there an Albany anymore? A Buffalo? No, of course not. How stupid to even think. No more barges. Machinery took care of that. No more Albany and Buffalo. The Organization took care of that. Everything had its replacements, just like the river that slurped greedily around the sides of the canoe. All replacements had their downsides.

Low bridge, everybody down

Low bridge 'cause we're coming to a town

And you'll always know your neighbor

And you'll always know your pal

If you've ever navigated on the Erie Canal

Alfred stopped in his humming to give a loud scoff and shake his head. Matthew glanced over his shoulder but was just as quickly returning to guiding them. Pals. Alfred remembered those days. When people were good and stupid and blind and didn't know. They just took away the barges. They put that guy and his pal Sal out of work to make their descendents' lives easier. Swords couldn't kill enough people. Too difficult to win wars with those. Add gunpowder, stuff it in a metal tube with a few balls of lead, and you've got more families ruined. Less trouble, though. That was all that mattered in the end, wasn't it?

Get up there Sal, we've passed that lock,

Fifteen years on the Erie Canal

And we'll make Rome before six o'clock

Fifteen years on the Erie Canal

And just when you'd think that would be enough to win a war, they make more. Shells that blast buildings to smithereens, mines that leave the unfortunate victim a widely strewn mess of blood and guts and body parts you can't even recognize. But at least those left remnants of the victims for families to bury. Well, they just had to take that away, too. Nuclear weapons vaporizing bodies, turning them to nothing and leaving only a shadow behind where they stood. There, you see? Less bodies to clean up. Less mess. Convenient. Just one press of a button, and you've got your own personal murder machine with its own sweeping device built in. There. We won.

One more trip and back we'll go

Through the rain and sleet and snow

And every inch of the way we know

From Albany to Buffalo

Was there an Albany and a Buffalo? Or were they just a long, pleasant dream? No. Of course not. They were gone. Ancestors looking for a quick way out gave their children weapons with which to enforce their opinions on society—and Alfred had let it happen, had been so proud. Albany and Buffalo were gone, vaporized, poof, and all that was left were the shadows of humanity. What ancestors thought was humanity. In the end, everyone was just like poor, dumb Sal and her lost job. Alfred bet she kicked a lot when she'd heard she wouldn't be able to pull those barges from Albany to Buffalo anymore.

Low bridge, everybody down

Low bridge for we're coming to a town

And you'll always know your neighbor

And you'll always know your pal

If you've ever navigated the Erie Canal.

Alfred knew his country inside and out; every street and alley; every brick and slap of mortar. But there were no neighbors and there were no pals. They were navigating on a river he didn't recognize to a Rome that appeared more or less the same as the original had at its end. Alfred hadn't seen it yet, but he knew. The tops of the buildings got closer and sharper in detail, the damage to them already clear. Low bridge, Alfred thought. Everybody down. We're coming to a town.

That guy and his pal Sal got screwed.

Similar thoughts were plunging through everyone else's minds, ranging from despairing to frustrated to infuriated to vengeful to grief-stricken to maddening. Before the world went up in flames, they would not have been able to hide the evidence of such strong emotions churning within them. Now their faces were blank, and their eyes were empty—the poster boys of a generation they had never meant to create.

Another bend rounded, and they were at the head of an island crowned with naked trees. Theodore Roosevelt Island. Or had it already been renamed?

They bypassed the large island, and Feliciano wanted so much to dig his fingers into the silty shore and scramble up the banks to hide among the brush. It seemed their last chance for safety, the last well before an infinite stretch of desert, and Feliciano wanted so much to stay there and never face his fears. The view of the government buildings were blocked by the island's treeline, and the thoughts of blood and stars and holding up the sky were muffled if only for a few minutes.

Once they cleared the island, all at once their breathing seemed to stop. The rooftops were closer now, their smokey stench detectable on the breeze. "Hey," Red said, her voice like the crack of a whip among the prolonged silence. She motioned to the shoreline—the one that marked the beginning of their hazardous trek to those dreaded buildings.

It seemed like they reached their destination in the blink of an eye, they were so reluctant to leave the river of sludge. Luckily for them, they did not have to set off so soon. They pulled the canoes into hiding in the trees while Red had a smoke.

She was halfway finished when Francis came to stand beside her. No exchange of words was needed. She offered him her pack of Virginia Slims, and he gladly took one.

It had been a month since he'd had a smoke, and Francis gagged a bit on the first few puffs. Red, thankfully, didn't see fit to address it. Instead, she said, "From here on out we have to be wary. The perimeter has been rigged with explosives and alarm trips. I know where some are, but only so many. The Overlord has the sole knowledge of every security precaution as a rule." She was exhaling in a stream of smoke when Alfred walked up to her. Her eyes narrowed insolently, as if daring her father to comment on her habit. Alfred looked from her to the pack in her hand and back again. He snatched it out of her hand and plucked out a cigarette.

"What the hell?" Alfred shrugged and lit up. "Smells like everyone else in the whole place is."

And he smoked, even though he felt like he was suffocating.

No translations

References:

1-Penny=Pennsylvania, Jeremy=New Jersey, Malachi=Massachusetts, Martin=Maryland.

2-Dillon (Cole)=D.C. (Yes, I know he's not a state. He's a district, but D.C. has enough prominence to be allowed a personification).

A Word From the Writer: Okay, so somehow as I was writing this insanely dreary chapter, I had this bouncy song going through my head from my childhood called, "Low Bridge" by Thomas S. Allen. I decided to include it and twist it so it had a darker meaning, and also to make America come across as kind of insane. I mean, I would be by this point as well if I were in the same position. As for the Organization itself, it seems it's been branching out quite a bit.

Now, about Virginia's character. Her demeanor and appearance lean more toward England than America in most respects, except she may be rash at times and a bit too overbearing like America (not to mention trigger happy). She has curly red hair (though cut short now), green eyes, and eyebrows not quite as bushy as England's but enough to give her a look of perpetual displeasure. She is a tsundere, and I thought it would be good to have her contrast with America in that way. She doesn't like Russia very much or England, despite having once had a relatively good relationship with him in the past (she holds grudges that last forever). But then again she pretty much is indifferent to or doesn't like everyone, seeing as at one time or another she has had to come into conflict with them in the past. She specializes in shipbuilding and microchip manufacturing and she is America's naval center (hehe, that sounds weird...). Considering her history with tobacco, she is a chain smoker. She also has a Tidewater accent. The main reason why I made her an essential part of the coup operation is because 1, she's close to D.C., and 2, I am kind of partial to her seeing as I'm a Virginian (btw, I don't have a Tidewater accent. I didn't even know Virginia had accents till I looked it up, lol).

All righty then. I have a full description of her and a couple of other states... but they're too long to post and would probably be considered junk posts by the mods anyway. But there you go. The more you know...