Pangea Academy's Number Two! (BOOK 2)

Bigger Fish To Fry!

Upon reaching his room, he fumbled for his key, the metal cool against his fingertips. With a twist of the wrist, the lock clicked open, granting him entry into the small, intimate space he called home. As the heavy wooden door creaked open, a tired sigh escaped from his lips, echoing softly in the dimly lit corridor. The familiar scent of Russia mixed with hints of fresh steam greeted him, signaling his return to the sanctuary of his dorm room.

With a weary sigh, he shrugged off his coat and kicked off his shoes, feeling the weight of the day slowly begin to lift from his shoulders. Collapsing into the welcoming embrace of the couch in their living room, he closed his eyes, relishing the simple pleasure of being home once more. 

"Dear, you're back?" Russia stepped inside from their shared bedroom, "You should've said so! Jesus, I was so worried." He quickly came over and kneeled down next to the couch, his scent was much better than the putrid one that used to cover his being, he smelled clean and his body was emanating warmth from his recent shower. The Russian's dark hair was still wet and an occasional drop fell from it, he changed out of his sweaty clothes as well, he was wear a plain black t-shirt that hugged his muscles perfectly and some fleece pajama pants. "Where did those men take you? Are you alright?"

America huffed from his position on the couch, he mumbled, "How was training?"

"How was training...? Who cares about training!" Russia blustered, "What the hell happened?"

America laid sprawled across the worn fabric of the couch, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as troubling thoughts churned within his mind like a tempestuous sea. What did happen?

His thoughts were consumed by a haunting realization - an all-powerful mind control ability, a force that could wield unfathomable influence over the world, lay dormant out of his, or anyone's for that matter, reach. The mere notion sent shivers down his spine, he understood the catastrophic consequences should such power to belong to the wrong hands.

Each passing moment only deepened his turmoil, for the responsibility of safeguarding the world from impending doom weighed heavily upon his conscience.

Russia's voice softened, "Amerika, are you alright?" He must've noticed the shift in America's face.

"Yeah."

"Please, help me out here, my dear." Russia begged, "I can't help if you don't tell me."

"I don't need help, Ruski, I'm fine." America slowly rose up from the couch causing the Russian to rise to his full height as well. Towering over the American, his face was stern, "Please, just trust me?"

"How can I when you won't tell me what's going on? First, these two men come and take you away, then you are gone for the rest of the day, and finally you come back home looking depressed. So how can I not worry?" Russia explains, "You'd be this upset as well, if I were in whatever situation you're in right now."

Russia was right, America would be deeply upset. He'd want to know what happened as well and he'd definitely want to help Russia as much as he could but... he just can't tell him what's wrong. ICJ would know and then America would have to worry about a much bigger threat than the ability, the entirety of WHQ would be his enemy.

"I'm sorry, Russia. I know how you feel, but it's just not something that can be explained at the moment." The America vowed, "I'd tell you if I could."

"Is someone threatening you? Is that why you can't tell me?"

"No!" America assured, waving his hands in a soothing motion, "It's nothing like that."

"So what is it like then?" the Russian prodded, insistently.

America sighed, he wasn't exactly sure how to get out of this. Curse his face that so easily shows his emotions.