"Fix bayonets!" a commander shouted in the lines. Minnesota, along with his regement quickly and expertly fixed their bayonets. "Charge!" he shouted.

With a scream the men charged at the Confederate soilders. Minnesota felt himself driving his bayonet into someone, he looked up and saw he had stabbed a Rebel right in the stomach, his mouth trickling with blood, but his eyes held defiance. "Give up. You won't win this war." he croaked.

Minnesota snarled in disgust and pulled back on his rifel, earning a scream of pain from the man. The man's stomach was literally spurting out blood and guts.

"This is the death you deserve, Reb." he spat, and charged ahead, leaving the man cluthcing his stomach in pain.

Minnesota caught up with one of the soilders. "Hey Private." Minnesota panted.

The man looked at him then shot another round before replying. "Get down Paul. Before they shoot 'ya."

"Yes sir." he said and dropped down beside him.

"You see any other regiments besides our own?" the man asked, shotting another round, and causing a man to drop.

"Only one I've seen was the Wisconsin regiment. Most of 'em are dead." Minnesota replied and shot a few rounds.

The man snorted in laughter. "I guess they had a little to much to drink before they been sent out." he replied.

Minnesota agreed.

"Withdraw! Retreat!" the commander shouted, and spurred his horse back towards the trees.

The men followed.

"Come on Lincoln! Let me go to the World Meeting!" America shouted, then went into a fit of violent coughing.

Lincoln leaned back in his chair. "No Alfred. You're to sick, and your country needs you." he said.

America scowled. "Don't give me that shit Lincoln! I'm not even out there fighting! My boys and girls are out there, keeping the Union together. Think about it, in our moment of weakness other countries could come and rip us apart if they found out. Just please let me go." he pleaded.

Lincoln had a thoughtful look on his face. "Alright," he said finally. "But what about the Rebel you?"

America sighed. "Don't worry. He's to worried about trying to make me reconize him as a country."

"Alright. Just be careful." Lincoln warned.

"Don't worry Lincoln, sir. I'm fi-" he was interupted by another fit of coughing.

"America! Are you alright?" England asked, as America sat down in his chair.

He pushed England away. "Yeah, I'm fine England. Don't worry." he growled between coughs.

"The word around the street is that you're in civil war!" Prussia called out.

He glared at Prussia. "I am not in civil war! I've just got a cold!" America growled, then went into a fit of coughing again.

England had a mask of worry on his face. "You should rest." he said.

America glared at him. "No. My duty as a country is to stay here and deal wih world affairs. Now leave me be!" he snarled.

England looked taken-aback, but huffed and scowled. "Fine." he growled, and turned to talk to Germany, who was peering curiously at America over England's shoulder.

After a while of conversing, Germany stood up. "Now," he coughed. "Lets begind this mee-"

"Wait, you'd start without me?" a southern accented voice drawled.

Everyone looked toward the door. There was a boy standing there, about America's age, he had hair like Canada's (But without the curly strand of hair), blue eyes, glasses, freckles sprayed across his nose, and with a Confederate soilder's uniform on.

"No. Not you." America growled.

The boy smiled. "Oh yes it's me Alfred. What? Don't want your brother to be here?" he asked with a sneer.

"Um, excuse me. But, who are you?" Germany asked.

The boy straitened up. "Albert B. Jones, sir. Or better known as The Confederate States of America."

America rose up from his seat, causing it to screech back. "Get out. You arn't even a country!"

Confederate America smiled rudely. "Oh, am I not? I have a capitol, territory, and people in my land. So, does that not make me a country?"

"You stole all that from me. Now I'm sick because of you!"

"Excuse me? I stole nothing."

"Lying bastard!" America howled, and charged at Confederate America, and knocked him to the ground.

Confederate America yelped in surprise. America was pummeling him with his fists. Confederate America's nose was bleeding, and he had a black eye.

But he fought back.

"Bastard! You theiving bitch!" America screamed, and punched Confederate America in the stomach. Hard.

Confederate America stumbled back, and fell on his butt. When America was approaching, Confederate America lunged at him, knocking him to the floor.

They fought for a little while longer before Germany and England came, and pulled the attacking countries apart.

"Stop acting like immature little brats!" England scolded.

America's cheek was swollen, his nose was trickling blood, and his knuckles were sore. Confederate America had a bad bloody nose, a black eye, and the other eye was swollen shut. He also spit out a tooth.

England looked at Germany. "Are we going to continue the meeting?" he asked, as he held America back.

Germany shook his head, and threw his arm around Confederate America's neck. "Behave you brat. Or you'll choke." he snarled at Confederate America. He immediatly stopped struggling.

America too.

"Go home! The meeting is postponed until tomorrow!" Germany called.

Author's Note:

Sorry I haven't updated in awhile. My grandfather died last Sunday and we had a funeral...and it was crazy, and I'm kinda depressed so...Anyway, hope you like the chapter guys.

Favorite and review please!