World At War

Ch. 4: America's Rage.

America sat in his office, hands folded and pressed to his lips. He was concerning himself with Britain again. He really shouldn't but he did anyway. He was also busy sending ships to Japan, Britain, and anyone in the Entente. Suddenly Britain opened the door to his office. He was surprised to see her so early, but what worried him the most was how sopping wet and how beat up she was. There was a large purple bruise on her cheek and her uniform was torn on her arms and legs and across her stomach. America stood, not knowing what to say. "The Lusitania was blown up. I'm so sorry..." Britain mumbled.

"Are you okay?" America asked.

"I'm fine, but your boat isn't." Britain sat down and America sighed.

"Germany." America mumbled.

 "At his finest." Britain nodded. America moved to the front of his desk and looked up at the flag hanging over his doorway. His heart hurt, he didn't want to do anything. He wanted to sit at his desk and feel horrible for the citizens he had lost. He wanted war, but he couldn't just do that. Not in front of Britain.

America helped Britain up, "We're going to go and get you cleaned up and we're going to lunch." America smiled.

"Over ten thousand of your people died today." Britain pointed out.

"Believe me, I'm royally pissed off, but for right now I just don't want to put myself closer to the war than I am right now." America mumbled.

Britain nodded, "Whatever floats your goat, man." America looked at her confused and shook his head.

Britain didn't hesitate to get back to the war, she was on the front lines, walking through the trenches. "Gas!" a soldier shouted.

"Gas?" Britain mumbled. Before her eyes, there was a large yellowish green gas towering in front of her.

"Britain, hold your breath!" France yelled, pulling a gas mask from the ground and pulling it over her head. He shoved Britain to the ground with him, waiting out the gas.

"What the hell, France?" Britain tried to get up, France was very strong and was able to keep her to the ground.

"Shut up, let the gas dissipate." France grumbled.

"What is this?" Britain asked.

"Hush, you're wasting air." France ordered. Britain sighed annoyed and kept quiet, looking around she saw everyone else had a gas mask and was laying on the ground. She looked up and saw planes flying over-head. She looked at France, the gas started to dissipate and the soldiers were getting closer to the top of the trenches. "Alright get ready to stand up." France told her. Britain had been ready to get up for the passed ten minutes. Once it was a little harder to see the gas, France pulled Britain up and moved her farther down the trenches.

"What was that?" Britain asked.

"It's been said that it is Chlorine Gas, it's very deadly." France answered.

Britain was silent as she ran to the front lines, pulling the gas mask off of her head, looking at her soldiers being pulled off of the field, they were hacking and throwing up on the grass, she attached the gas mask to her side and pulled up a gun. She would never forgive Germany for doing this to her soldiers, never.

America once again sat in his office alone, running his hands through his hair. He was looking at all of the letters sent to him from Britain, telling him about the boats Germany had sank. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose as his assistant opened his door and looked at him, she smiled. "Mr. America, would you like to take a break?" she asked. America didn't answer, he couldn't get the words out of his mouth. He was in a pool of anger, fatigue, and fustration being blended together, the voice of his assistant wasn't making him feel any better. He didn't move at the sound of her voice, he just wanted her to leave. "Mr. America?" she asked.