He was in trouble, oh so very much trouble. He was waist deep in trouble and still sinking so fast it nearly made his head spin. The day had started like any other. He had reluctantly rolled out of bed, ate his breakfast, showered, went to work and not half way through the day a single even occurred that forced the life he had so painstakingly built over the years to start careening downwards like a rock being pulled down by earth's ever present gravity. Everything was falling apart before his eyes and it was all due to a few careless cracks in his life's foundation. The walls were caving in and all he could do was run, run as far and as fast as he could.
That's exactly what he did. He ran out of the office building and into the busy city streets with a crowd of question people chasing after him, begging for him to give answers he wasn't supposed to give. He didn't even think about his car as getting stuck in the daily traffic was not an option lest he want to get caught by his pursuers. All he could do was use his superior speed and agility to try and out run them just enough so that he could make it back to the safe zone of his house.
This is Alfred F. Jones and this is how the biggest secret in American history was let out.
So let's start at the beginning with the profile of said Alfred F. Jones. Eyes, light blue. Hair, dark blonde. Height, 6 feet 2 inches. Weight, 235 pounds. Gender, Male. Age, over 300 years. Now before you laugh, stare quizzically, or close this story some things ought to be explained so that what you're reading makes much more sense.
Unbeknownst to the public of the world there lives among us are a special breed of people in which the government has slapped on the name 'Nation.' Per country one person his born at the birth of that nation to represent its masses in a single humanoid form. They're just like any other person. They eat, sleep, breathe, have jobs, go to movies, have hobbies, and… urges… just like anyone else. The only differences that remain are their inability to age regularly or die from wounds that would normally kill someone else. So in our case Alfred F. Jones is well over three centuries old and yet continues to look like a kid fresh out of college.
In representation, full and official, he was the personification of the United States of America down to every knick and scar on his skin and every quirk and aspect of his personality. The only catch to being of this breed was that they had to keep their true identities completely undercover and out of the public eye lest they face dire consequences.
Now how this all came about was the classic situation of those crazy paranoid Americans and their conspiracy theories, you know along with those ones like Big Foot, Area 51, and the Jersey Devil. Everything that brought him down was just a few simple pictures. To be exact one from 1919, one from 1945, one from 1980, and then lastly one of him from present day. Now magically one man- some guy from New York State that when by the name of Jimmy Mallory. An older gentleman who had a hobby for collecting old photographs- had acquired all these photos of different presidents from an auction and noticed the same face of a certain youth in every one. He had seen that face before, somewhere very common. At that moment the news was on where the current president of the United States was giving a speech on some sort of new health bill when Jimmy noticed that same face in the back ground behind the president.
Suddenly it clicked.
He became obsessed and started to research the boy. What was his name, where he was born, how old was he, where did he work? It couldn't be some strange coincidence not when four pictures from four different eras all had a boy with the exact same face. It was amazing the way a single occurrence could force someone to become so completely hung up on it.
So that morning Alfred was procrastinating on his work as usual when he was suddenly called to the lobby for he had a man who wished to speak with him. Alfred put down the stapler he was busy playing with and nodded in agreement, fixing his tie and heading to the nearest elevator to make the familiar trip down to the lobby of his office building. When he got down to the lobby there was a rather large group of people hanging around by the entrance, but a single man stood apart from the rest as he were the ring leader. He was on the short side with a stocky build with small round glasses balancing on the edge of his crooked nose. He approached Alfred with confidence in his stride and a yellow folder in his hands. "Alfred F. Jones, I presume." He spoke.
Alfred looked at him curiously for a moment, "Uh… yeah you got it, something I can help you with?" Alfred asked politely as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his suit pants.
"Mr. Jones my name his Jimmy Mallory and I'd like to ask your opinion on these." He said as he held the folder out for Alfred to take.
"What are they; papers, pictures?"
"Pictures." He replied sternly. What was with this guy? Something about him just made Alfred feel uneasy and that was a difficult thing to do as he was just about as oblivious as they came. Alfred took the folded, eyeing Jimmy curiously again before opening the folder and inspecting its contents. Pictures… he recognized these pictures and…. His blood froze icy cold in his veins and his wide blue eyes slowly traveled to Jimmy's face.
"I… I-I these pictures… t-they're…" For once in his life Alfred was left at a loss for words.
There was triumph in Jimmy's eyes as he spoke again, "Now Mr. Jones, you would you mind telling me how old you are?" He said with the smallest of smirks.
"Me…? I'm t-twenty five…" He replied back nervously.
"Now are you, really? Because according to the documents I've dug up about you you've been around for a good long time; much longer than the life span of any regular human." His intense grey eyes seemed to bore a hole into Alfred's head as he spoke.
Alfred's dark blonde brows knitted together, "Look, I don't know what you've got going on here, but whatever it is it isn't true. I'm just a regular guy at work." He said even though it was a lie.
"I don't believe you, I've spent the last two and half researching your existence and I'm positive that you aren't who you say you are." Alfred didn't know how to respond. There was no way he could at least not without making it completely obvious he was lying right through his pearly white teeth. "You know Mr. Jones; it's amazing what the press'll eat up these days to keep the media world satiated. You see all those people behind me? Some of them are my fellow followers, but some of them are from local news papers." News papers? He was bluffing, or at least Alfred hoped he was.
How was this happening? Why was this happening? Alfred had gone centuries without raising suspicion towards his existence and suddenly out of the blue here was someone threatening his way of life. "Now, Mr. Jones we can do this the easy way or the hard way. It's your choice, but either way the world's gonna know about your existence one way or another."
What was he supposed to say to that? Well this was it; fight or flight mode. Alfred had nothing to fight with so all that was left was flight and that's exactly what he did. Off he took like a jet as fast as his feet would carry him out of the building with Jimmy and his band of followers hot on his heels.
So now we fast forward to where the story began now that you know how we got there. He bound over puddles, dodged people, even hoped a fence or two all while dressed up in a full black and grey pin striped suit. He knew these streets more than anything and it wasn't long before the group of theorists where nowhere in sight. Still Alfred didn't stop retreating until he was safely back home in his apartment with every door and window locked and every blind and curtain drawn closed.
When he was safe and sound only then did Alfred breathe a sigh of relief and fumbled around for his cell phone to call the only person he knew he could talk to. As the dull ringing echoed from the depths of his cell phone a similar ring echoed all the way across the Atlantic Ocean in a Victorian style home nestled in the heart of London. A certain Briton groaned as the sound stirred him from his sleep, emerald green eyes cracking open as he sleepily groped his night stand for his phone. Who in the hell would be calling him this bloody late in the evening? He looked at the screen with bleary eyes. Alfred? Obnoxious git….
"Alfred?" He answered groggily as he opened the phone. "You better bloody well have a good reason for waking me up…" He said bitterly as he flipped over onto his back.
"Artie… I got a real problem…" Alfred replied nervously as he ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair in anxiety.
"Can't it wait till morning- or at least morning where I'm from?"
"No it's… w-well I… Artie…" The American stammered nervously as he struggled to find the right words to describe his situation. "People they… they uh…."
"Spit it out, god damn it, so I can sleep!" Arthur shouted angrily into the receiver.
"I'm in deep shit Artie! People they… they know… a-about me… the real me…"
Arthur's thickened brows rose quizzically as he let it process. The real him? What in god's name was Alfred talking abo-! And then it hit him and his blood too froze in his veins. He knew what Alfred was talking about. The American really was in deep shit.
Woo! New story! It's focusing mostly around conspiracy theorist in American (and just how crazy they really are) and what would happen if those loveable Hetalia characters really did exist. A short starting chapter, but most of these chapters probably will be short anyway.
Reviews are always appreciated! Thanks so much!