By: Verin Mystal
Pairings: Russia/America (main), America/Canada (Plationic/Brotherly), Canada/Ukraine & others
Summary: America struggles to find solace after civilization crumbles in a post-apocalyptic world. My take on the classic "Aliens invade planet earth" set up. Rated M for language & violence. Nation/human names used interchangeably.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the original ideas in this D:
A/n: Decided to gradually de-anon this while I continue it in the kink-meme at LiveJournal. Originally intended as a "one-shot" but slowly turned into a 10,000+ word monster. Inspiration for this came from an old one-shot theme challenge, the theme being "invasion", hence the title. I decided to take this on to practice writing Russia/America (I don't have a firm grasp of Russia or America's characters (imo), but I figured the more I practiced writing them, the better I'll get? Any advice/constructive criticism is definitely welcome). Comments/reviews are love :)
Why am I still alive?
It was a question he asked himself every morning since the day of the flash.
I shouldn't be here.
It happened after a long day of meetings with his boss and the cabinet. He drove home in his truck, thinking only of crawling under the cotton sheets and resting his head upon the goose-down pillows. He might have been hungry, but mental exhaustion and tunnel vision over-ruled. Cars flew past him on the lonely two-lane highway, acres of private land on either side of the road. Beside him on the passenger seat lay his cell phone. It trilled shortly, signaling a new text message he'd received. Stealing a glance, he found it to be from Russia, whom he'd been messaging back and forth for the past several hours. Turning onto an ancient gravel road, his old Virginia home finally came into view. He sloppily parked his truck in the street and stumbled across the lawn to his front door in a haze.
Sleep first… I'll call him later.
Tony failed to greet him at the door. In hindsight, he should've been more concerned with this, as his alien friend always, without fail, met him at the door. It was a mannerism of Tony's at first that soon grew into a silent ritual. However, America found himself too focused on the soft mattress and pillows upstairs to care. Throwing everything to the floor, he shuffled up the stairs, into his room and promptly collapsed into his bed.
How is this even possible?
Sometime later, he felt a tiny hand clutching his shoulders. Groaning unintelligently, America twisted away. The grip suddenly grew painful as he was drug from the bed.
America's head hit the floor first.
"What the hell-?"
Tony had both his hands in a bruising grip.
The grip on his wrists grew unbearably painful as he was thrown into a small enclosure. Tony jumped in after him, his movement's jerky and almost panicked. America turned to the smaller creature, trying to pick himself off the floor.
"What the hell is going on?" America glared at his old, alien friend. "What-"
Tony grasped the side of the enclosure, tugging a sliding metal sheet across when the flash happened.
Two years had passed since the flash.
Two weeks since he'd last seen humans.
Four days since the last encounter with them.
Alfred swallowed and hefted his pack further up his shoulder, adjusting the weight to ease the soreness of his back. His clothes, consisting of jeans, a red shirt and stressed black leather vest were old and blood stained. Holes were repaired, sewn and re-sewn until the fabric was thin as paper. A thick leather belt hung from his waist, weighed down by spare bullets and his two .357 Magnum's. The large caliber rifle strung across his back, along with the ax, was a hefty, albeit comforting weight.
If I'm still here… then the others have to be here too.
It was a thought that Alfred kept with him since emerging from the cramped enclosure after the flash.
The utter decimation of his large cities struck a blow both mentally and physically that lingered for months after. He didn't remember much directly after the flash. Only images and feelings, boiling emotions and vivid flashbacks. After waking up, he stood before a the shattered remains of his mirror and found his body covered in deep lacerations, horrid burns, and gouging stab-like wounds. All scabbed over, puckered and ugly.
After the initial realization of the attack, he tried his cell phone. Of course, the plentiful supply of signals from before was now non-existent. He dug through his home, what was left of it, and found an old two-way radio. Hours were spent searching the channels, where only silence answered.
"The satellites are gone-" He remembered saying after spending days trying to his fellow nations, contact government officials, anyone. "-Aren't they Tony?"
Tony only nodded in response.
"The international space station-?"
"The flash… was nuclear?"
"…the capital… my major cities… they're all gone?"
Tony looked away, unable to reaffirm his assumptions any further.
America trembled and crushed his cell phone to dust.
-Can't think about that. Have to stick to the plan. Have to find Matthew.
He continued on up the two-lane highway, passing the rusted, empty husks of cars and the dead, rotting bodies that filled them. Trees surrounded him on either side. A bad position, being out in the open, void of places to hide or use for cover. Deep down, he thought of the other nations across the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. Did the other nations meet each other? Are they planning a way to defeat them? Alfred tensed at the thought, feeling a curl of obsessive hatred towards the invaders.
Don't. Don't get angry. Just focus on the plan. Find Matthew, and then plan from there.
It was all he thought about since he left his half-collapsed home in Virginia with Tony. It took him a couple years, but he slowly made his way north. Avoiding the larger cities and towns, in fear of encountering them, he kept to the wilderness as much as possible, surviving from the land and any abandoned homes he came across. Once crossing his northern most border with his brother, Alfred kept to the two-lane highway that lead to the remote cabin Matthew owned.
"He may not even be alive." Tony admitted one early morning. "He could've been in Ottawa when it happened."
"He wasn't in Ottawa." Alfred's voice was unwavering. "He's alive."
Tony wasn't convinced. "How do you know that?"
"I just do."
Two more weeks passed before Alfred arrived at the weaving dirt road that lead to Matthew's cabin.
Cars were piled at the road side entrance, many burnt down to their frames. Narrowing his eyes at the sight, Alfred took a wide arc around the destruction, stepping into the tree line. Pulling his rifle from his back, he swiftly chambered a few rounds with practiced ease and stalked through the woods.
Tony moved with him, following Alfred's footsteps and clutching a rifle in his small hands.
"Fucking Invaders." He growled.
Tony refused to call them aliens. He himself was an alien species to earth, but he was there for peaceful purposes, not to take over a planet and kill off the native species.
It was no secret to Alfred that Tony resented and hated them for what they did.
Moving from tree to tree, they made it half way to the cabin before gunfire erupted in the distance.
Breaking in a run, Alfred surged forward through the trees, making out the hissing screams and dark fluid shapes. The cabin loomed in the distance, slowly growing larger and larger until the trees thinned and front yard of the cabin opened up. Dark, lanky figured climbed through broken windows as others lay on the grass, bleeding green fluid that boiled once coming into contact with earth's oxygen-rich atmosphere.
Alfred raised his rifle, lined up the sights and fired three quick rounds into the chest cavity of the thing climbing through the window in a manner of seconds.
Chambering three more rounds in quick succession, Alfred ran forward, his rifle trained and ready to fire at a seconds notice. More shooting came from inside, hissing screams shattered the quiet solitude of the forest. Smashing a window out with the butt of his rifle, Alfred climbed in and found two more of them clawing at the remains of a door.
Alfred fired three rounds into one, it's chest exploding in a spray of green liquid. The other surged through the doorway. A sudden, dreadfully familiar scream of outrage erupted from the room.
"Fuck-!" Sprinting forward, he flew into the room and found his twin fighting off the thing with a hunting knife as long as his forearm. "Get away from him-!"
Alfred grabbed the thing by the thick, black tentacle hairs on the back of its neck and flung it away. It fell to the floor with an ear-piercing shriek, and made to get up. Alfred jabbed a foot on its chest and slammed the butt of his rifle into its face. Matthew lurched forward, nearly falling to the floor and sunk the knife up to the hilt in its chest. It quivered, struggling against them until a bubbly whimper sighed past its toothy lips.
Gasping, Alfred stepped away and turned to Tony, who was standing at the door, shooting the dead alien in the head again for good measure. "Anymore?"
Tony shook his head, but kept to his post as lookout.
"A-ameri-…A-al...it's…" Matthew's haggard voice cut through the silence. "Y-you're… really here-"
Alfred turned and found his twin leaning back against the chair he'd been sitting in, staring at him. "You-…I thought… I could've sworn you were in Washington I...I…"
He's alive. Alfred stared at Matthew, seeing him and studying his face for the first time in ages. He's alive.
"I wanted to stay." Alfred felt far away, his body and mind disconnected. "But they made me leave early. They said I needed a break."
"Oh Al-…" Matthew's voice broke and he choked on a sob. "I-…I thought you were…god damn you…"
Alfred blinked at Matthew, and remembered the last time they'd seen each other.
Three years ago. We fought… fought badly. Bloody noses and bruised ribs, sprained ankles and headlocks… but France and England broke it up. "Matthew?" Alfred stared at his brother, the memories flooding him. "You…you're-..."
Something shattered within him. The light feeling retreated, leaving behind a heavy raw darkness.
"I thought you were dead!" Matthew's voice croaked, sounding as if it clawed its way up his throat. "I thought… I'd never see you again and I…"
"I'm sorry." America gazed down at Matthew, blinking at the stinging in his eyes. "I'm sorry I took so long."
"Well I-… Alfred I'm here now." Matthew's voice suddenly changed, and he struggled to stand up. "You're okay, and I'm okay. We're both okay."
His eyes still oddly stinging, Alfred peered down at Matthew and found his right thigh bleeding heavily, soaking his camouflaged pant leg.
"Alfred please-" Matthew struggled into his chair, and held his hands out to him. "-everything's okay now."
"But you're bleeding-…"
Alfred blinked again and reached up to rub away whatever stung his eyes. His fingers came away wet.
The walls crashing down within, Alfred took three steps forward before falling to his knees and dropping the rifle at his feet. He flung his arms around Matthew and relished the familiar, comforting smell of his brother. Matthew wrapped his arms around Alfred, drinking in the old, familiar presence of his twin brother.
"I… I thought I'd never see you or anyone else again…"
Darkness fell, and the two clung to each other out of fear and need, taking comfort in each other's presence… just as they did hundreds of years ago.
"I think we should cross the Bering Strait."
Matthew looked up from the high-powered, scoped rifle he was cleaning.
"If we start now, we'd get to… to Russia just in time for spring." Alfred clenched a metal flask in his fingers. "I think-"
"You want to leave?" Matthew set the rifle down and fixed a steady gaze on his twin. "You want to leave our homelands'? You want to leave our people behind?"
"That's not what I meant!" Alfred slapped the flask down on the desk. "I can't just stay here in this cabin, Matthew! Those things are still out there, infesting our cities and killing our people-!"
"You think I don't know that?" Matthew glared and stood from his seat, favoring his right leg. "Alfred, I want the others to be alive just as much as you do-"
"What if they met up already? What if they have a plan to fight back and we're just sitting here-!"
"If that's the case then why don't we travel south to Mexico and the others?" Matthew questioned. "We can meet with them and see-"
"I would've… truly I would… but..." Alfred winced. "My people... the stories from the south… they got hit really bad."
"Those fucking invaders took over the south, southwestern areas." Tony interrupted. "The further south you go, the more invaders there are."
"Oh…I see." Matthew allowed, his expression softening. "You… really think the other's are alive?"
"Yes." Alfred said without pause. "They have to be. At least… I know R-… Ivan wasn't in Moscow when the flash happened."
"How?" Matthew asked, returning to his seat with a pained sigh. "You said you'd been working that whole day-?"
"I…I'd been texting him throughout the day." Alfred swallowed at the lump in his throat. "We were planning on getting together that weekend."
"Well…" Matthew picked up the flask America slapped to the table earlier, unscrewed the cap and downed a mouthful of water. "Where was he?"
"Uelen?" Matthew blinked. "What was he doing way out there…?"
He screwed the cap back on and set the flask on the table.
"We were going to meet there the next day and he…" Alfred turned away. "He wanted to show me around and... we'd been meaning to do something like that for a while."
Matthew stared at Alfred's back, coming to a silent understanding.
"I have often… wondered about Yekaterina." Matthew leaned back in his chair, his eyes growing distant and far away. "I have hoped she is still healthy and is… doing well."
"I'm sure she's fine." Alfred turned around, a tiny, genuine smiled spreading across face. "Ivan would make sure of it. He'd never let his sister's get caught by those… those things."
Matthew nodded, a tiny smile spreading in response. "Of course… your right."
"Well…"Alfred held his hand out. "What do you say?"
Matthew stared at the hand, hesitating. "You want to cross the Yukon wilderness through winter?"
Alfred glared at him. "We've done it before-!"
"-hundreds of years ago." He deadpanned.
Matthew bit his lip, turning the slim number of options they had in his head. Finally, he sighed and gingerly took his twins outstretched hand.
"What do we have to lose?"
Alfred wrapped an additional scarf he pillaged from a remote cabin and wrapped it around his head and face.
"D-do… you have any idea w-where we are?" Alfred's teeth chattered as he wrapped his arms around his chest. "Matthew?"
It was cold. Bone-chilling cold. Cold enough that when he spit, the liquid was frozen solid before it hit the ground.
"We're closing in on the Yukon river." Matthew stopped and waited for his twin. "Are you alright?"
Alfred trudged through the snow after him, red-faced and shivering. Tony followed after him seemingly unfazed by the frigid air, a thick coat with faux fur lining covering him from head to toe.
The wind blew softly, whispering through the treetops.
"Liar." Matthew glared at him flatly and stared ahead. "We need to fine shelter before night falls."
"B-but… can't we make it to the river and then find shelter?" Alfred insisted, despite looking miserable. "I want to cover as much ground as possible!"
Matthew took one look at Alfred before shaking his head. "You'll be in the second stages of hypothermia by the time we get there-"
There was a hissing shriek, and Matthew found himself being shoved to the snow, a heavy, shivering body on top of him.
Alfred covered Matthew's mouth with his glove-covered hand. "Shh-shhh…!"
Alfred jerked a finger to the far right, pointing out dark, lanky figures off in the distance.
"It's them." Alfred rolled off of Matthew. "About… 100 yards away?"
Tony knelt in the snow and chambered a few rounds in fast, efficient succession.
Matthew jerked his scoped hunting rifle off his back. "How many?"
"Four. No- five."
"Too many to get them all at once." Matthew lined his sights up. "I'll need you two to flank them. Tony, move to the opposite of Alfred and fire from tree-cover."
Tony merely nodded and moved ahead to the right.
Alfred jumped to his feet, careful of the sound his boots made in the snow, and slung the double-headed ax off his back. He ran through the snow in an arch to the left, trying to keep the loud crunching footsteps to a minimum. The invaders loomed ahead, tearing through a canvas bag and pawing through the objects. Raising the ax blade, Alfred jumped out from behind a tree, embedding the ax into one of the things back with a wet crunch. The alien body fell to the snow in a pool of green blood. Ear-piercing shrieks flooded the still, frozen air. The two cracks of distant gunshots sounded, followed by a distinctive third, and three of the invader's chests split open. Alfred yanked his ax from the things chest and turned.
One invader lunged at him; Alfred backpedaled away and instinctively pulled his magnum from the side holster at his waist, firing two rounds into its head. Gasping, Alfred turned to the last invader. At its feet were the remains of the canvas bag, bloodstained and torn to pieces. In its hands was a long knit scarf. The ends frayed from heavy use.
Alfred stared at the fabric and held his breath.
The invader stood deathly still, the scarf hanging loosely in its hands.
The invaders dark, twig-like fingers clung to the soft fabric, touching it and contaminating it with its very presence. The same fabric that was cherished and used every single day. The same fabric that hide the physical scars of the past. The very same fabric that Ivan kept near and dear to his heart. It was something that was never to be separated from him.
You wonder why I cherish my scarf so much? Alfred could still hear the familiar, textured voice questioning him on that one night, so many years ago. This scarf is as precious to me as your glasses are to you. The hands clutching the scarf suddenly moved, shoving the fabric to its chest possessively.
"Where did you get that?" Alfred growled suddenly, pointing his gun at the invader's chest. "Where the fuck did you get that?"
The creature shrieked and stepped away, searching for a potential weapon.
"Who the fuck did you get that from?" Alfred repeated his question for the third time and fired into the invader's shoulder, his eyes wild with anger. "Drop it, now!"
The creature fell to the ground and dropped the scarf, shrieking and clutching its bleeding shoulder.
Alfred grabbed the scarf and stared at it a moment, feeling the thick woolen texture of the length of fabric. Its Ivan's…it has to be his. Hands trembling, Alfred clenched his fingers into the fabric and raised his magnum to the invader once again.
"Where did you get this!" Alfred shook the scarf at him, eyes blazing in uncontrolled anger. "Tell me!"
The alien hissed a reply, its beady black eyes boring into him.
"Alfred, what's going on?" Matthew's voice came from behind. "What are you holding?"
"This fucker-!" Alfred started, jabbing his magnum in the air at the alien. "-Has Ivan's scarf and bag!"
"…What?" Matthew came to a stop beside him; his rifle still raised and kept aim at the invader. "Are you sure it's his?"
"Yes." Alfred said without pause. "I would recognize this scarf anywhere."
I've seen Ivan wearing it since I first met him…
"Then he has to be in this area…" Matthew narrowed his cold, steel like gaze at the invader. "…and you're going to tell us where he is."
The alien hissed and spit something from its toothy, garbled mouth at Matthew's chest.
Matthew only raised an eyebrow, his gun never wavering.
Alfred flew forward, grabbing the alien by its short, curling tentacles on the back of its neck and jerked it upward. The alien hissed and shrieked at the contact, scrambling and clawing at Alfred to release him.
"If you don't tell me where he is-"
"What!" He pointed the gun to the side of the invaders head and jerked his head up to glare at his twin. "I'm not gonna put up with this shit!"
"It's obvious it can't speak any of our languages on earth."
"What-? No!" Alfred kicked at the back of the invader's legs and tightening his hold on the alien when he made a particularly hard lunge away from him. "Bullshit! It can understand us! They couldn't have just stumbled upon our planet and attacked on a whim. They had to have listened to us for a while."
Matthew frowned, half his face obscured by the large scope mounted on his rifle. "You really think so?"
"Matthew." Alfred began, his voice suddenly lower and softer. "What if Ivan was captured by them? What if he was with his sisters when it happened?"
Seconds passed before Matthew slowly lowered his rifle. Putting the safety on, he fastened the rifle to his back once more and slide the large hunting knife from the sheath on his thigh.
"Good point." Matthew stepped forward and placed his foot over the end of the delicate limb of the invader. "You're going to tell us where, and whom, you got that from."
The alien puckered its lips to launch another mouth full of saliva at him.
Matthew smashed his foot into the alien's limb, flattening it with a sickening crunch.
A hissing, wet shriek erupted from the invader's mouth.
"Spit at me again and you'll lose more than a limb." Matthew threatened, his voice cold as steel. "You're going to answer my brother's question."
Matthew pressed the knife to the invader's head and slowly drug it across to the tentacles at its neck.
"And if you don't tell us the truth, I'm going to cut off each of these disgustingly sensitive tentacles one by one until you decide to cooperate."
The alien wordlessly scribbled "NW" into the snow and pointed.
"Aww what did I say?" Alfred smirked down at the alien. "He cooperated so well! I'll have to remember this for future encounters."
The alien trembled and peered at Matthew.
Matthew stared back at the invader, his gaze flat and matter-of-fact.
"Too bad there won't a next time for you."
"I should've known that fucker would lead us here."
Alfred pressed his back to a thick pine and took a quick inventory check of his ammo. Matthew stood opposite of him.
"I have 50 magnum rounds and one magazine left for the rifle."
Tony checked his pockets for extra bullets. "Three magazines."
"…two magazines for the sniper rifle." Matthew sighed, clutching his high-powered rifle to his chest. "That's it."
"Shit…" Alfred let his head fall back against the tree. "How many of 'em did you count?"
"Around 50. Not including any that were inside any buildings last I checked."
"Damn." Alfred clenched his teeth and forced a sigh back down his throat. "I refuse to leave him, Mattie."
An hour had passed since they'd stumbled upon the alien outpost, running into a patrol that they'd taken care of silently and easily. Matthew had gone ahead to scout out the camp. It was then that he discovered Ivan, his hands and feet chained, being led by a unit of the alien soldiers to one of the hastily built tent-like compounds.
"That camp is heavily guarded." Matthew explained while picking up a twig and drawing a basic outline of the compound in the snow. "It's surrounded by that weird laser fencing they like to use. They have several patrols and guard towers, one at each corner of the camp."
"Laser fencing needs power. Where are they getting it from?"
"I didn't see anything that might indicate power generators." Matthew frowned. "But wouldn't that mean their tapping off the local power grid?"
"Even if we cut out the power, there's still way to many of them for us to fight against." Alfred grew quiet for a moment. "We'll have to lure them out."
Matthew stared at Alfred for a moment before understanding flooded his eyes. "We could use the bodies of that patrol as bait. Lay them out in the road for them to see."
"They'll check the woods and send out another patrol. And we'll be there to take care of them." Alfred nodded. "It'll have to be quiet and silent."
"I don't like this." Matthew frowned. "They're not stupid, Alfred. They'd catch on that something's happening."
Alfred frowned and leaned back once again. The two remained silent for a long moment.
"Hey," Alfred started, leaning forward once more. "Can you still turn yourself invisible?"
"Of course I can." Matthew glared at him. "Don't you still have that absurd strength of yours?"
"I have an idea."
And for the first time in three and a half years, Alfred smiled.
Next Chapter: America and Canada rescue Russia from the camp.
Uelen – From Wikipedia: "Located near Cape Dezhnev where the Bering Sea meets the Chukchi Sea, it is the easternmost settlement in Russia and the whole of Eurasia. Uelen is also the closest Russian settlement to the United States. It is on the northeast corner of the Uelen Lagoon, a roughly 15 by 3 km east-west lagoon separated from the ocean by a sandspit."