Veteran's day

Ghost and Fists

Chapter 2

"Die you frog bastard!"

Britain and France were fighting in a corner about something stupid again.

Russa was creeping out the Baltics across the table from America, while Romano cussed out Spain.

Typical meeting.

To be honest, though, Alfred couldn't care less. He just wanted to be over so he could get on a plane as soon as possible and be alone.

Veteran's day was just two days away and the fast approaching anniversaries of his friend's deaths.

Each Name deserves their own novel. Their stories never really going to be told by anyone but the ghosts of grief that he carries.

Jonathan O' Reilly, Nathan Brooke, William snow, Zachary Campbell, Markus Kimble, Katie Homes, Jannie Hill, Braxton Milliard, Daniel Jacobs, and. Twelve lives over the past 252 years. All of them had died on November 9th, two days before Veteran's day.

He was startled out of his brooding by Romano, as the nation gave up the cussing at Spain, and loudly said something vulgar and degrading about the United States Marines.

The normally loud room fell silently ss nations wondered what was happing. Time seemed fluid and nonresponsive as the names of the Fallen were carved and burned into his mind loudly screamed for his attention.

America, the superpower himself, sat trapped frozen, the wave of anger school himself free. He gave a quick prayer to the fallen.

He doesn't know. He doesn't know. He doesn't know.

He repeated the mantra, as he turned to the Italian, who still had not realized the effect of his words had, despite the sudden drop in temperature. and how all the other nations were suddenly enraptured by them.

"Excuse me, Romano, I must have heard you wrong, What did you just say?" America demanded icily, smiling the whole way.

It depicted what Hollywood thought of the cold American businessman. Next, to the bickering couple, Russia shifted, looking as uncomfortable has memories of the Cold War flickered through the haze of a forgotten time.

"You heard me!" Romano snapped back with the same ferocity, with several profanities at the end.

Alfred's eyes narrowed, his boss wouldn't like him to get into a war. The anger he is feeling is old, like a sleeping volcano waiting to bring the wrath of fury gods into the earth.

He had served with Aaron Jones as a Marine during Vietnam, a young writer with golden words that couldn't save him from a bullet to the neck, something he vowed never to forget.

And like hell that would be tarnished.

"Romano, I am only going to ask once before I show just what the Marines taught me, Take it back," The room felt its silent, nations knew all that Romano had to do was apologize. Ask for forgiveness and maybe he'll live another day, so they could move on and forget what happened.

Unfortunately, that wasn't going to be the case.

"No."

"Excuse me?" America, he was no longer the laughable Alfred, said in disbelief anger.

"You heard me you American bastard!" Romano smirked as he saw Alfred visibly getting angry. The golden boy turning dark.

"Why should I apologize to your stupid America Marines?"

The floor seemed to sweep underneath him, his knees endangering to buckle under the pressure to bolt to the other side and beat the living shit of that fucker. What did this cheap knock-off of a nation know of sacrifice?

His brass knuckles whiten under the creaking wood, his face red. He is still a Marien. One of his closest friends had died has a Marien. Men and woman died every day as a Marien, given themselves to the roaring darkness, and this— bastard had the gall to insult them?

But for Romano, he had to stand up from his chair in hopes of leveling things with the superpower, but so far it wasn't working.

He is a goddamn superpower that holds the power cards to the salvation or destruction of the world and puny little thing thought of challenging him?

Germany, the upholder of general peace of the meetings, stepped forward palms upwards in peace. It was a silent statement of standing down and hold peace.

He finally, finally snapped as Romano degraded something about how easily Marines died.

The smiling face of Zoe Anderson appeared and all hell broke loose.

Nations would recall how easy the fight broke out, never had they seen Alfred so animal-like, ferocious with the only goal of killing.

He swung at the shorter nation's face, completely intending to break every damn bone in it. Just before it collided with the fuckers face, America felt someone the titan iron grip into his wrists.

Germany, America jeered, the bastard never does leave me alone, does he? Fully prepared to hurt the other nation as well, Alfred whipped his head to the side to find a ghost.

Aaron Jones, who had been dead for almost half a century calmly held the nation's wrist with an iron grip.

Alfred remembered far too well looking exactly the same as he did in Vietnam, right down with a look of "really?" On his face. Dirt smeared across his eyes, who lazily took up the whole nation under his dead eyes.

His helmet unbuckled and cocked side with a playing card tucked under a plastic band that wrapped around the top, effectively hiding the hair that Alfred knew that was light brown.

Expect that hair was long gone, even his ashes.

He looked every bit of the eighteen-year-old from Florida.

By now Romano had gotten over his external confusion and shock as to why America had an arm suspended in the air and attempted to escape to refuse.

"Don't" he could hear Aaron whisper, "He isn't worth it. Hittin' him will only be sinking at his level." That stalled the mountain anger under his grip and allow Romano to scurry away.

If he learned anything during the hot jungle was that Aaron was usually right, no matter what he was talking about.

Once Romano felt safe across the other side of the room, closer to the door and half-hidden around other nations, he made one of the idiotic, stupidest things one could do after they escaping a situation like that.

"Ha! See!? He's weak like his stupid damn army!"

In a snap of a finger, Aaron was replaced by Marissa Merrell who Alfred met in Iraq.

The hyper happy smirked and gave him a thumbs up, a clear signal that the proud twenty four-year-old members of the United States Army wanted Alfred to avenge her and her comrade's honor against the foul-mouthed Italian. That was all the inspiration Alfred wanted.

He and Aaron may have gotten out some good laughs, specifically over their written words but Alfred couldn't disobey a lady, even one who'd been killed almost five years ago.