Being Human (COUNTRYHUMANS)

Uncertainty

America was awoken by the intrusive feeling of being prodded.

He grunted and shifted, but when he didn't immediately get up, he was prodded once again. He moved and went to grab the object poking him and missed, only grasping air before he opened his eyes to see a figure looming over him. He flinched with a yelp, blinking several times to get a better look at the stranger. It was a park ranger- two, actually, the taller one poking him with a tree branch and the shorter but stouter one staying behind, watching his every move.

"Hey buddy, you can't sleep here." The ranger poked him once more with the stick. America growled, grabbing it, attempting to yank it away but only being pulled to his feet by the ranger. As he was pulled up, he was forced to let go of the stick, and consequently lost his support. His legs still ached and protested being used, he was forced to collapse on his knees. He cursed as he immediately began to pull himself up, only to collapse again. His body was trembling, both from the cold morning air and his exhaustion.

"He looks pretty damn skinny," The ranger behind finally spoke. "Should we get an ambulance?"

"No!" America glared up at the ranger, to his surprise. He forced himself upon his feet one more time, this time managing to stay up except for a stumble. "I'm fine. I don't need help."

"You're still gonna have to get out of here." The first ranger said. "Loitering isn't allowed around these parts- any of your goonies around here? Alcohol vomit ain't gonna look good in the park."

America frowned hard, his brows furrowing into a semi-glare. These guys kicking him out of a public park just because he was passed out? He was just attacked last night! And he was America! The least they could do was give him some respect?

"Do you have any idea who I am?" America grit his teeth, baring them. He noticed that they weren't nearly as sharp as they were before- he nearly had fangs before a week ago.

"Uhhh..." The second ranger raised a brow. "A delinquent, it looks like."

"I am the United States of America." America straightened his posture, fists clenching. "The least you could do is show me some damn respect. Some fucker tried to literally kill me, that's why I'm here." He glared at them as hard as he could.

Meanwhile, the two rangers had gone to stare at each other for several moments, their faces dumfounded. Within a few moments, they started to laugh- beginning from just some chuckles and gradually rising to sheer hysteria. The taller of the two slapped his knee, doubling over. "Ah man, ah man- you, the United States!? The country died a month ago! You're just some kid!" With that, he burst into another laughing fit, using his friend for support.

America nearly gaped at them, the indignation immediately obvious on his face. His teeth gritted harder as his shoulders bunched up, an eyelid twitching. "Kid!? I am hundreds of years older than you!"

"Yeah, 200, more like 20!" The shorter of the two wheezed, though he was quicker to calm down than his partner, taking a few more minutes to get it out of his system before straightening himself, approaching America. "Alright kid, you need to get out of here."

America was quick to back away from the approaching ranger, his body lowering as his hands balled into fists. He didn't want these guys to touch him. Wait- he realized something- he was shorter than them. A year ago, he was at a staggering 6'4- which was pretty damn tall for a human, but Canada was still taller than him at a 6'8- and was pretty muscular, so he thought. Of course, he had lost all that muscle when he got sick, but he still kept his height. These guys had to be at least 6 feet- and he was shorter. What the hell!? He thought his clothes were looser on him just because of his lack of muscle.