Panting, a young country with dirty blonde hair and sapphire eyes pressed his back against a tree with his rifle fixed with a bloodstained, dark gray bayonet clutched tight in his hands. His legs were well past the point where any pain from the exercise he'd been giving them from his running would be pulsing through them. He could feel the blood from a shallow cut on his left shoulder spreading over his decorated dark blue jacket, but it wasn't anything that he'd have to worry about right then; he could last until he had to go back to camp. Luckily camp was just a little bit farther.
He glanced around the tree with his eyes scanning the empty-looking clearing in front of him. Regardless of what he saw, he was sure there were more redcoats hiding behind the trees across the clearing. He raised his rifle as he saw a flash of red. It was time to fight again.
...
I'm just a step away
I'm just a breath away
...
Swiftly, he ran out from behind the tree and through the bushes to face the redcoats that stepped out from behind the trees as he did. He stopped and unloaded a lead bullet onto the first British man he saw, hitting him in the chest and sending him crashing to the ground. The blonde kept running forward, his black boots hitting the grassy ground hard as he continued.
He stopped again and crouched down to avoid the bayonet being thrusted towards his face. The blonde turned his rifle in his hands and thrust the bayonet up into the abdomen of the Brit who had tried to kill him. He stood up straight, kicking the man he'd just killed off from the bayonet as he did.
The country looked at the two dead bodies and wondered why things had to be this way. Why does Britain insist on doing this?
...
Losing my faith today
(Falling off the edge today)
...
"America!" A man in a dark blue coat matching America's ran up to him and looked around at the two dead bodies. "Nice job sir."
America shook his head. "No. Don't praise me for killing them."
"Um...okay...?" The man's eyes then looked to his superior's bleeding shoulder. "America, you're injured!"
He nodded, glancing at his shoulder. "It's just a scratch."
"You still need to get to camp sir!"
"I know." America walked past the man, knowing that he was following him. He could feel the slightest sting in his shoulder now, it was the first bit of pain from the wound he'd felt since the injury was inflicted. His grit his teeth together remembering who it was that gave him the wound in the first place.
...
I am just a man
Not superhuman
(I'm not superhuman!)
Someone save me from the hate
...
In the camp, everyone around looked to America as he entered. Some seemed concerned over his injury, others seemed relieved that their leader came back alive at all. He wasn't concerned with any of them at the moment though; right now he needed the medic to stitch up his shoulder so he could take a small platoon of soldiers to go kill the country who had injured him.
He sat on the edge of a cot in the medical tent and waited for the single medic to make his way over to him so that he could get stitched up.
As America waited, he bent his head down and glared daggers at the dirt ground of the medical tent. Britain...
Britain, the country who had found America and raised him as his younger brother, had been the one to give him the wound on his shoulder. The elder country had tried to stab him, to rip his heart out so that finally the Revolution for freedom would end.
...
It's just another war
Just another family torn
...
America clamped his hands tight together. Even in the midst of a bloody war, he still couldn't believe that his older brother would seriously try to kill him. It just seemed so...wrong.
...
(Falling from my faith today!)
Just a step from the edge
...
"America?" The country looked up at the medic staring at his wound. "What's the damage today?"
America chuckled and slipped his jacket off. "Come on doc, you act like I'm in here all the time."
"Because you are." The medic grabbed a wet rag and wiped the blood off of the blonde's bare shoulder, earning a sharp hiss when he did. He looked at the cleaned area and shrugged. "Nothing severe, just a minor cut. I'll sew it up." He turned and grabbed a curved needle already fixed with black thread.
America made a face and gulped. It didn't matter how many times he had to be sewn up, he didn't like the sight of the needle and thread one bit. His right hand tightened on the thin white sheet on the cot and he looked away as the fire-sterilized needle entered his flesh. He ground his teeth together trying to suppress the yelp that wanted to escape him at the feeling of his shoulder being sewn back together. The men lying in the cots around him were in worse shape than he - some missing limbs or dying - so he wasn't going to show his mild pain to them when they weren't even letting a single tear slip.
...
Just another day in the world we live
...
The medic cut the string when he was finished sewing America's shoulder. "There, all done. Be more careful sir, I'm going to run out of thread if you keep this up."
The country chuckled and pulled his jacket back on. "I'll try, but no guarantees." He buttoned his jacket as he stood. "Thanks doc." He smiled.
"It's nothing. Now excuse me, I have other patients to attend." He turned back to the others.
America left the tent and looked around. Everyone was going about their business as usual. Reloading weapons, making meager meals, or trying to catch up on sleep. Rifle in hand, he walked over to the tent where the ammunition was stored. He grabbed what he deemed were enough lead bullets for the battle he was about to gather soldiers to go fight. He knew where Britain was, all that was left was to end the war once and for all.
He went around the camp gathering men he thought would be the most likely to survive the fight he was going to pick with his older brother.
...
I need a hero to save me now
I need a hero, (save me now!)
I need a hero to save my life
...
After nearly two hours, he figured that he had plenty of men to fight with him. He turned to the line of trees he'd broken through only a few hours ago and pointed forward. The band of soldiers marched through the trees and the clearing, passing by the corpses of the two British soldiers America had killed a few hours ago as they went.
America looked back at the men following him with unwavering dedication and smiled ever so slightly to himself. One of the men following him could ultimately be the one to help him achieve his freedom; be it an officer or a lowly private, he didn't care. Someone, anyone, who managed to convince Britain to give him his freedom was more than welcome to do so.
...
A hero will save me, (just in time!)
...
America raised his hand as they reached the edge of the trees and a small British camp was able to be seen. It really wasn't even organized enough to be called a proper camp, there were just a few thin dirt-covered sheets spread around a clearing next to a stream. Some soldiers were sleeping on said sheets, others were lounging against trees, and few were keeping watch around the edges of the "camp." (America had been sure to hide his soldiers well enough in the bushes and trees that the British soldiers couldn't see them.)
"You bloody well know why I'm angry!" A blonde country with thick eyebrows yelled at his second-in-command. "If things continue the way they are, we could very well lose!"
America's grip on his rifle tightened at the sight of the blonde. Britain... His eyebrows knit together. His elder brother was arguing with someone, now was the perfect time to strike.
The young country darted up into a stand and pointed his rifle into the camp, shooting at one of the guards alerted to his position. "Now men, attack!"
...
I have to fight today
To live another day
...
As the American soldiers rose from behind the bushes and darted from behind the trees, British soldiers leaped for their weapons or swiveled to shoot at their attackers.
America knelt down and, as quickly as he possibly could, reloaded his rifle. He stood back up again and ran through the fighting soldiers towards Britain. The elder country grabbed the nearest rifle and quickly blocked the bayonet speeding towards his face.
Glaring eyes met glaring eyes as the younger of the two warring countries yelled, "End this and give me my freedom!"
...
Speaking my mind today
(My voice will be heard today!)
I've gotta make a stand
...
Britain grit his teeth and kicked America away from him. "What would you do with freedom?" He whipped to the left and shot at an attacking American soldier.
America watched with wide eyes as his soldier fell to the ground dead. Another gave his life so the country would no longer be tied down by Britain's tyranny. He ground his teeth together. No sacrifice will be in vain.
...
But I am just a man
(I'm not superhuman!)
...
He stepped forward and clashed his bayonet with his elder brother's again. "I would grow up! I would become my own nation instead of being stuck as a part of you!"
...
My voice will be heard today!
...
"No!" Britain pushed on their rifles, sending America stumbling back. When the younger country tripped and fell down, he pointed the bayonet at his throat. "You will not leave me! I will not allow it!"
...
It's just another war
Just another family torn
(My voice will be heard today!)
It's just another kill
The countdown begins to destroy ourselves
...
America didn't even glance down at the bayonet at his throat, he just continued glaring at his older brother as he yelled in return, "Kill me then! Destroy me!"
...
I need a hero to save me now
I need a hero, (save me now!)
I need a hero to save my life
A hero will save me just in time!
...
Before Britain could decide what do to, a rapier cut into his flesh. He yelled out and stumbled back into a tree. His eyes met those of a country with wavy blonde hair. "F-France?"
"Oui," France replied with a smile.
...
I need a hero to save my life
I need a hero, (just in time!)
Save me just in time
...
America let out a breath of relief as he stood and dusted himself off. "You arrived just in time France. A minute later and I would've been done for."
"Well, ze hero must always make a magneefeecent entrance!" France announced with a loud laugh. He swung his rapier in front of him in a showy display. "What shall I do to you now Britain?"
...
Save me just in time
Who's gonna fight for what's right?
Who's gonna help us survive?
...
"No." America grabbed his rifle from the ground and rested his free hand on France's shoulder. "Thank you for your help, but I need to do this on my own." He smiled. "I won't go down so easily again."
...
We're in the fight of our lives
And we're not ready to die
...
France smiled and then nodded. "Oui. Whatever you weesh to do America." He pivoted on one foot. "I won't go far, but try not to geet hurt again." He stepped forward and pierced the chest of a British soldier with his rapier.
Once he was certain France would stay true to his word, America turned his attention back to the bleeding Britain. He raised his rifle and pulled the trigger.
...
Who's gonna fight for the weak?
Who's gonna make 'em believe?
...
When the lead bullet shot through Britain's leg, he collapsed to the ground with a pained screech. He looked up in time to see America finish loading his rifle again. When the gun was pointed at him, he ground his teeth together. Bloody bastard, what does he think he's doing?
America stared his elder brother down with his rifle still pointed at him. He was prepared to pull the trigger if necessary and end Britain's life. He didn't want to, but to defend his soldiers and bring himself and all of them freedom, he would pull the trigger to end his own brother.
...
I've got a hero, I've got a hero
Living in me
I'm gonna fight for what's right
Today I'm speaking my mind
And if it kills me tonight
I will be ready to die
A hero's not afraid to give his life
...
Without the two needing to look around, they knew what the outcome of the battle would be. The American soldiers and France were killing off the British, and those still alive were beginning to surrender. The battle was over, and America had won.
"Hey Britain," America yelled to the defeated country, capturing his attention.
...
A hero's gonna save me just in time!
...
"...consider me independent!"