Red Dawn, an epic '80s speculative movie about 'what if Russia were to really invade'. It was a fun time and I recommend you check it out. Mind you, there are no real 'pairings', didn't write it for that. Country and human names used/interchanged. This may end up as more of a crossover of Heta/RD more so than a fic based on the movie, but that's fine, yes? Not my first fic in general but It is my first Hetalia one and the first one for my new account.

Please enjoy and let me know what you think, yes?

As much as I love Hetalia and Red Dawn I'm not awesome enough to have any connection.

//RedDawn//

- Soviet Union Suffers worst wheat harvest in 55 years

- Labour and food riots in Poland, Soviet troops invade

- Cuba and Nicaragua reach troop strength goal of 500000, El Salvador and Honduras fall

- Greene's Party gains control of West German Parliament, demands withdrawal of nuclear weapons from European soil

- Mexico plunged into revolution

- NATO Dissolves, United States stands alone

:PhoneCall.

I didn't think it would really happen, I didn't think it would happen so easily anyway. Invasion was on my mind often, but I never thought of it as truly 'possible'. I underestimated Russia, the USSR. Like all of my citizens I did fear that dauntingly massive union but we had no idea of what they were really capable of. Perhaps we the Nations should have seen it Russia- Ivan -was and is a seriously scary bastard crazy enough to have pushed 'RedDawn' into action and think would not only work at all but that it would be foolproof. Stupid, I'm America, and in America– nothing is foolproof.

I remember that day perfectly when things went into motion. I was out of the capitol taking a break from the stress of impending doom at the White House, to get some rest in my favorite state, Virginia. It was where I met England for the first time and despite all the shit I always give him, I do really love Arthur. Even more so now, and I'll forever be grateful to him, not that I'll stop picking on him and going out of my way to get under his skin.

I had woken up early enough to watch the sun rise, I remember how the blue of the sky faded swiftly to pinks, oranges, and white in a most awesome way. This seemed special to me then. It had been a long time since I had the luxury to just sit and breathe. It had been a long time since I had the luxury to sit and bask it the fantastic beauty of my land. I had breakfast on my deck in ease, a welcome change to the hasty and hazardous eating on the go I'd been doing. I watched the towns people pass by, each one a testament to the American Dream and spirit, even when compared to those country boys to whom I owe my life and our collective freedom too most. A truly inspiring and heroic group, God bless them and rest their souls.

It had been a fantastic start, but like every other day in those trying and stressful times it was ruined by a phone call. I hadn't even heard it ring, but I could feel it, the subtle dread creeping up my legs into my spine. I'd gained a bit of a sixth sense about these things, not a very good one, but it still counts. I thought about leaving, thought about pretending not to be home. I wanted to, more than I could ever admit. Those seconds it took to walk from the deck to the phone were the longest of my life. Somehow it felt like I was talking my death walk, up the miserable steps of the gallows about to be hung out.

The phone was still ringing, I kind of hoped it would have stopped before I'd have gotten there but I was never a lucky sort of guy. "Jones here." I answered blandly.

"Good morning Amerika! How are you this fine day?" It had been years since I had last heard that voice. The last time before that day was the night after NATO had dissolved. I wasn't sure if I was going to shit my pants or puke, and I wasn't sure if that was out of fear or rage.

"What the fuck do you want asshole?" I growl at the phone, gripping it so sternly my fingers turn white.

"I was just wondering how things are. It's been so long since we've last spoke, yes. I thought I'd check on you!" Sweet, polite, and way too cheerful I wanted to beat his stupid commie face in.

"I was great until you called, if you must know, you Godless piece of shit." With each word my voice rases and my near innate anger towards him boils inside.

"I'll promise you dear Amerika, it is because those are the orders of my wonderful government." If I had cared any I might have noted the strain and discomfort in his words. However, I hate that creepy faggot ass-face and don't care.

"Well, that's fucking awesome but I don't give a shit. So, please go die in a hole or something ok?" I reach over to the coffee pot and fill what I'm still only half sure was a clean cup. If that was how I was going to spend the day I was going to need some serious caffeinated help.

"No thank you." I expected more out of him for that, but nothing. I hate that guy so goddamn much.

It was in the lull of this awful conversation did it hit me. "Ivan, you son of a bitch, how are you calling me?" My home phone service hardly covered long distance, let alone international. I was and still am notorious for using work phones for personal calls so, I didn't need any of those extra costs.

"Oh? That's right. I've called your home haven't I?" Another useless set of words.

"How do you even HAVE this number? Arth–England doesn't have this number!" Though, it was only because we were too busy with other things to have time for idle personal chat. At the time, I thought it was pretty gay and that he was just being a douche... I still feel pretty bad about that, not that he knows any of it.

"Surely, you didn't think such petty information was out of my reach did you?" His condescending childish tone grated badly in my ears. "Although, for this, I didn't need my usual means of information gathering exactly."

" Just TELL me what the fuck–" I tried to elaborate on my displeasure and confusion but his next words shut me up turning my blue hot American blood to ice.

"I just had to politely ask your precious little brother for it! Canada is very hospitable. Matvey especially is quite nice as well." Russia's carefulness and pleasantness didn't help the utter darkness and dread I felt.

Coldly, quietly I asked, "What have you done?"

I could just about taste the satisfaction in his voice. "Now you're interested? I'm surprised you remember Canada's name, yes? You see, I was meeting with Cuba the other day, and during idle 'ice-breaking' as you say, yes, conversation we discovered that we both have a fondness for your sweet overshadowed sibling."

I wanted to say, 'I might forget his name and where he lives and once in a while what he looks like, but at least I really love him! At least I'm not holding him prisoner! At least my government hasn't raped his land and violated his people. We just ignore them. ASS.' I pretend not to, but how can I not know about Russia's family and their history? For once in my life though I found self control and only asked "Where, where is he and what did you do to him?"

There is an evil sound I assumed was Ivan terrible laughter. "He is in Canada, where he belongs. Where else? I concluded that visit where I got your number yesterday at a reasonable hour. I'll be seeing him again soon though. Shall I send your regards?"

"No, you won't go see him soon because I'm going to him today! I'm going to make sure he knows what evil you are and that he won't ever let you back in his house! I swear to God if you try anything funny with him...!" I said, somehow with only one huge breath.

There was quiet. For a moment I thought he had hung up or something, but his next curt reply came. "I do not recommend that." There was another pause, I could only imagine how much Russia was enjoying it. "You have much to do in your own country, yes? Surely you cannot be spared to babysit a country that does not want that service."

"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?" I bark.

"Tell me Amerika, how was the sunrise? Have you ever just relaxed and watched one? It's very pretty and comforting, yes?" Useless bastard.

"Don't change the subject shit-face." I said, glaring at my cold coffee.

"I'm going to send you a present, Alfred. I'm sure you'll find it interesting. Please do at least stay in your country to receive it. Your government will be happier if you stay around at that." Retarded giggling ensued for a moment. "At any rate, I must depart, I'm going with Cuba to see Matvey and I don't want to be late."

My inside felt like explosive knots. There was nothing I could do for... uhh... Canada. Again, I was left to be totally useless to my brother. My BROTHER, who was to be left to the whims of the commie faggot-ass-hats Russia and Cuba. Just one was bad enough, but both of them? It could only be trouble. I worked out one last question, "Russia, where are you now?"

"Where am I? What a silly question! What do you take me for?" He responded with cheer. I stayed silent. "Near enough to be able to call you at this number, far enough where you don't have time to try to stop me." Silence, as of waiting for my response. "Take care then, Amerika, yes? Until we meet again!"

"You are the reason I support McCarthy-ism and I hope you die in a fire." It was all I could say.

He hung up. I sat down. Even from there I could feel him mocking me. Russia and Cuba... at Canada's and there was nothing I could do. Why hadn't Mathew contacted me if he was confronted by Ivan? I still don't know. I never did find out exactly what happened at those times. Then again, I guess I had always been too afraid to ask. My imagination was enough and I guess I'm scared of finding out if it was the same, or worse. The possibility of it being 'not so bad' hasn't ever been tempting enough. I'm surprised a bit that he forgives me for this inadequacy.

I sat there in horror for a long time alone and quiet with my imagination. My cruel imagination.

I knew though I had to collect myself. Russia had basically told me he was, for at least a short time, in the States. He was sending something to me as well. I wasn't sure what that meant though, with how politely vague he was being. I didn't know then, when I picked up the phone again to call my boss, that by 'he' he meant his country AND Cuba; that he meant 'me' as in America my country; and that by 'present' he meant a duel front invasion. None the less though, I had to let them know. Those were very troubled waters I was left to drown in.