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Alfred had become bigger than anyone ever imagined. He now held the world upon a string, spinning and twirling it around his fingers whenever and however he pleased. The hero-complex was nothing but a sham that Alfred took pride in, because a hero was what he wanted to be. It was what he dreamed of being as a young boy and even after he gained his independence from England. But that was before he learned the harsh truth of reality that there were no such things as heroes. Heroes only existed in fairy tales and comic books. And what was once a need for freedom, turned into an excessive want for money, power and materialistic things. These newfound feelings were a by-product of Alfred being struck down and stepped on over and over again until he finally snapped. A silent realization, that would soon leave everyone in the world but him, reduced to shambles. And he would finally have the power to fight back.
A naive teenager was left behind and what came forth was something seductive and cynical. What came forth out of the darkness, was a villain. A villain that knew his intentions were pure evil, and loved it. The people listened and he disguised his plan with deceitful wiles, fastening other nations to his fingers. And when they realized he was the puppeteer and they were his puppets, it was far too late. It was an emotionally wrecking wake up call, leaving them to question and ponder, with no answers. They were faced with a new country. A Superpower. A Superpower that had hidden his true self from them for centuries, leaving them with a sour taste in their mouth.
The, “Slow, idiotic, fat American,” had made a fool out of all of them and was basking in his glory, celebrating his rise to power in front of those crumbling nations. Oh how they loathed him for that. They loathed that charming smile he gave people when he first met them and the color of his eyes, as bright as the sky, was his most powerful weapon, much stronger than his fists. It was a look of innocence and naivety. They were carefully crafted and strategic lies. But there was however one man, who knew him better than anyone else. In a sense, they were the same, but the games they played were different, neither playing by it’s rules. Ivan Braginski knew how Alfred played and vice versa. Entering into the era of the Cold War, the game became a nuclear pass time, and gave both an unhealthy exhilarating thrill.
< - - - >
“Oh would you shut your damn mouth you fat pig. You’re a fucking idiot, what do you know?”
Those words resounded like a gunshot throughout the room, leaving everyone’s ears ringing. Now, insults were always exchanged during World Meetings, but it was definitely not the right time in history to add fuel to the fire. With high tensions from the Cold War looming over their heads, the verbal abuse only grew, some comments hitting a little too close to home. Their mental health suffered and physical health failed. Britain stood tall, but looked ill and gauntly from sleepless nights and lack of nourishment, bored his eyes into America’s. America, who was also overwhelmed by the 60s in general knew this was the only chance to release some pent up inherent frustrations from work. So he leaped across the table, dragged him down onto it and swung at England clumsily.
What followed entertained the Allies and Axis (excluding Russia this time) but soon became another thing to add to their annoyance and they pulled them apart. But not before Alfred’s jaw was bruised and his nose bled, while Arthur’s eye was swollen and he had a busted lip. Once all the commotion had died down and there was relative peace in the UN Meeting once again, Alfred spoke up with a sharp tongue with a bag of ice pressed against his cheek. He hadn’t gotten to beat Arthur as much as he would have liked.
“You want a plan? Fine. I’ll give you a fucking plan. I’m going to handle all this by myself.” The last part caused them to stir and another wave of disapproval and bitterness against the American came crashing down on him once again. Honestly, he should have been use to it by now.
“Do you,” Alfred raised his voice dramatically and slammed his hand down on the table. The nations jumped at the sudden action and went stiff, silence finally settling over the room.
“Do you,” He started again, his voice low, “trust me?” Nobody said anything, afraid that their answer was the wrong one. America had once again made them feel much smaller than they really were. And in that moment, with America looking at all of them with a busted face and an immense sense of pride and acknowledgement of one’s power, they were given the vile reminder that he could crush them...so why hadn’t he?
Alfred put his icepack on the table, got up, and started walking out of the room.
“You do realize that it doesn’t matter if you do or do not trust me right? I’m America. Everything always comes down to me.”
< - - >
Alfred waited patiently, rocking back and forth to the beat of the Beatles on his transistor radio with an intent to hurt, seize and control. And his waiting paid off with a perfect opportunity to prove and demonstrate The United States’ title as a Superpower and Alfred’s own willpower as well. America put his radio in the pocket of his flight jacket and slid his headphones down resting them on his neck, Revolution playing loudly as he made his way over to the only person still sitting at the table.
You say you want a revolution.
Well, you know we all want to change the world.
You tell me that its evolution.
Well, you know we all want to change the world.
But when you talk about destruction.
Don't you know that you can count me out?
Don't you know it's gonna be all right?
“Russia.” America addressing him always put everyone on the edge. Some conversations amongst nations died down and they watched the scene unfold out of the corner of their eyes. Ivan looked up at Alfred and seemed disgusted that he was in his presence, the grip on his pen tightening. If Ivan didn’t know any better, he would have already knocked Alfred’s lights out. The teen leaned against the leather chair next to the Russian and crossed his arms, looking down at his shoes. The only thing that could be heard was the music coming from his radio.
You ask me for a contribution.
Well, you know.
We're all doing what we can.
But if you want money for people with minds that hate.
All I can tell is brother you have to wait.
Don't you know it's gonna be all right?
“ Come to my place tonight. “ If this was a cartoon, the sound of a record player abruptly stopping and the music coming to a screeching halt would have been used. But in reality, the room grew very quiet and everyone gawked at the two Superpowers. Russia was surprised, but he caught himself and put on a stoical expression, merely raising an eyebrow at the American. He honestly would have laughed in his face if Alfred wasn’t actually serious with his request. Russia narrowed his eyes at him.
‘Fuck you America.’
Alfred gritted his teeth and sneered at him.
‘Fuck you too asshole.’
Russia turned away from him and went back to writing his documents, nonchalantly responding, “No.”
“I didn’t ask commie.”
“I wouldn’t agree if you did.”
“I’m the United States of America.”
You say you'll change the constitution.
Well, you know.
We all want to change your head.
You tell me it's the institution.
At any other time, Alfred using his title as a country against someone would have been petty and a joke, but he and everyone in that room knew that for the first time in history, his name alone made people intimidated. In his eyes he was the country that made the world go round. Russia stood up and looked down at America with a daunting expression, both staring each other down refusing to look away.
You better free your mind instead.
But if you go carrying pictures of chairman Mao.
You ain't going to make it with anyone anyhow.
Don't you know it's gonna be alri-
Ivan abruptly grabbed the younger man by his collar and Alfred’s headphones and transistor radio fell onto the ground with a loud crash. A few audible gasps were heard from all directions of the room. A few nations sprung up from their chairs and others instinctively reached for their hidden guns. If a fight started, they knew it would carry on outside of the building as well and could have literally ended up becoming something nuclear. Ivan pulled him closer, his fist clenching around Alfred’s shirt tighter as he lifted him higher up from the ground until Alfred’s feet were barely touching it and he dangled in Russia's grip. Even so, Alfred barely reacted, but his fervent eyes did all the talking.
'Do it fucker. I dare you. Fucking do it. Show them Ivan. Show everyone how easily I can control you.'
After a few more tense moments, he released his grip on Alfred’s shirt and carelessly let him down. Alfred stumbled back before regaining his balance and scoffed. Everyone started breathing again and a soft murmur spread across the room. He straightened up his shirt and flight jacket, readjusting his glasses as well. Russia packed up his belongings at a leisurely pace and pushed past the American. America opened his mouth to give an ill-mannered comment about Ivan being a weakling as he walked away, but was cut off by the man himself speaking.
“Are you coming fatass?” Not that Ivan cared, but Alfred was the one who invited him over. Alfred bit his lip to contain his eagerness and tittering giggles that threaten to escape past his lips. He put his head down, his golden bangs covering his eyes and put a hand over his mouth for a moment to hide a malicious smirk. When he had himself under control, he sauntered over to him.
“After you bastard commie.” At that Russia left the room through the Oakwood double doors without America. He followed suit and as Alfred opened the door, he looked back at the other nations that were looking at him with awe and flashed them a malevolent smile that spread ear to ear with a wicked gleam in his eyes. The poor boy, he’d actually thought he’d already won.
< - - - >
They told him to be careful.
They advised him to tread lightly.
They bombarded him with countless warnings and haunted him with the consequences that would surely come out of all of this.
They told him, but America never listened.
And as he laid on Ivan’s bed, hot and violated, moaning indiscreetly and wantonly he realized that this was bigger than the both of them. This was the one thing that controlled them. He was sticking to the bed and his head started to feel dizzy from Ivan’s roughness. Alfred’s cheeks and the tips of his ears glowed red from humiliation and the feeling of indescribable ecstasy Alfred absolutely hated to admit Ivan was pleasuring him with. He arched his back and clamped his hand over his mouth, tears welling in his eyes at the sound of his lewd voice. Sweat rolled down Ivan’s face as he gripped Alfred’s hips and mercilessly thrusted into him. A sly smile spread across his face, feeding off Alfred’s embarrassment.
“Look at you, O’mighty United States. You love this don’t you, you fucking whore.” Alfred held up his middle finger and hissed at him, holding back a moan. Both of them were drowning in a web of lies and a sea of unstable emotions. Confused and perturbed, the waves of pleasure that came crashing over Alfred every time left him breathless and unashamedly wanting more. Soon, empty promises left his mouth with cries of pleasure, and in that moment they actually both believed them.
“I love you.”
“I love you so much.”
“Ivan I love you. “
They told him to be careful, but Alfred never listened.