Hey, so just a warning, this is my first fic. I've been entertaining an idea for a while now about a possible nuclear war and what would happen to the people who survived and had to rebuild society. I realized that these people would have to start out with nothing, because everything important would be destroyed, much like the people from ancient times had to. What if humans are on a repetitive path of advance, destroy, advance, destroy, each time getting farther and better because of what could be salvaged from the previous cycle? How would that affect the personifications from Hetalia? I picked America because he was the one to create the nuclear bomb that ended this cycle and started the next. Anyway, enjoy the story, and let me know what you think.

"Phoenixes are beautiful creatures," Alfred F. Jones, the personification of the United States of America thought, "They live their lives, before bursting into flames, destroying themselves. However, from the ashes of their destruction they are born again, this time more prepared to deal with the world. It's like forest fires, which destroy the area they touch so life can grow again, this time from better soil, or the controlled fires on the plains in Kansas, which kill the grass and fertilize the land."

When Alfred had heard the news, he had sighed, wishing that they would have been able to last longer this time. Some country had finally cracked and launched one of their nuclear bombs. It didn't matter who had launched it or where it was going, within a few minutes, everyone had launched theirs in protection of themselves or their allies. Soon, society as they knew it was going to end and the world would be enveloped in nuclear winter. Alfred felt his people, who all knew what was happening at this point. Some were crying, some remained calm. Some kept to themselves, some grabbed the people nearest to them, all quarrels forgotten. Quite a few talked to God for the first time, and others were glad they would finally return to him. Alfred himself, despite all the contradictory emotions from his people, was as calm as a midnight snowfall.

This wasn't the first time Alfred had watched humans destroy themselves, whether by man-made natural disaster, biochemical warfare, nuclear warfare or anything else, and while he felt for his people, he knew what would happen now. They would destroy themselves, then start again. Humans were surprisingly resilient, always adapting and advancing. Heck, it was probably why they had survived every time; every time life came up with new bullshit, they took it in stride and became better. This time wasn't going to be any different.

He closed his eyes as the first bomb to reach his land hit, directly in D.C. He winced, feeling the impact to his land and the death of all those people. Of course, after testing the originals in Nevada, he was used to the pain of the bomb hitting the land, but the people were different matter. The one that hit D.C. was quickly followed by one in New York and San Francisco. Any minute now, he knew one was going to hit Cheyenne Mountain (Wiping the author off the face of the earth)* and the other important military bases across his land.

Alfred, in an attempt to ease the pain, thought of his twin brother Matthew Williams, the personification of Canada, who would probably not be destroyed by the bombs, but by the following fallout and eventual winter. He thought of his former enemy and almost friend Ivan Braginsky, the personification of the Russian Federation. He thought of his awesome drinking buddies Gilbert, Prussia, and Mathias, Denmark. He thought of his anime and video game buddy Kiku Honda, the personification of Japan. He thought of everyone he had been friends with, everyone he had fought with, and everyone in between. He thought of all the people who had helped him in his history; George Washington with the revolution, Abraham Lincoln with the emancipation proclamation, Amelia Earhart and her almost-flight around the world, Rosa Parks, "The first lady of civil rights," and every man, woman and child who had lived the American Dream, and made Alfred who he was.

Finally, his thoughts settled on his friend and long-time father figure Arthur Kirkland, the personification of England and the United Kingdom. "It was odd," Alfred reflected, "How Arthur Kirkland managed to survive every time, yet not remember." For some inexplicable reason, Alfred always survived and always remembered. Often times those who weren't as involved with the destruction of civilization would survive, but they would very rarely remember. Usually just one or two each time, and they rarely survive the next time. Yet, Arthur always lived; and he always forgot. It was like the cosmos was playing a cruel game with him, one that he wasn't informed the rules of.

The last bomb landed. Alfred could feel it; he could tell this was the last one. He sighed, and closed his eyes, knowing that when he woke up, he would be a different person with a different name, possibly a thousand years in the future, not that that was a lot of time after all the lives he lived, but he would once more get to watch the humans rise again the ashes of their destruction, just like phoenixes.

So, how was it? All feedback is appreciated. Almost a thousand words. Considering it's my first fic, I'm rather I'm not really sure I like the ending. Should I add a bit where he wakes up to realize that the world hasn't ended quite yet, or just leave it? Anyway, info time:

*Cheyanne mountain is where NORAD is. It's located in Colorado, and if nuked, would totally destroy Denver, which is, coincidentally, where I live. Hehe… So glad to move out here (Not that living 20 minutes away from D.C. is any better, but shhhh).