"Sir?"

The redhead turned around, his pith helmet falling over his eyes. "Was is los?" he asked. "What is it?" His subordinate smiled wearily, fearing the expedition leader's snappy attitude. Replying with a shrug, he turned away and continued through the dense forest of West Africa. In the Congo Basin anything could happen, and they all knew to stay on their toes.

Birds "ca-cawed" and a few of the members jumped as a snake slithered by. Curiously, the man with fire-like locks did not; he seemed used to it by now. Of course, the team explored the basin for years and few of them fell victim to death.

The threat of jaguars, however, still existed.

Would they meet one, the troop prepared itself with many artillery guns.

Axel, the fiery haired spark we discussed earlier, happened to be part of the Her Majesty's Imperial Empire's African Exploration Army. Big mouthful. In all irony this young man was not a Briton at all, but a German military officer. Queen Victoria hired him specifically, since Germany did own some piece of Africa.

And it so happened Germany claimed just the area she wanted to explore. Great Britain and Germany's steadfast alliance held through, their competition for power still consumed every good-natured piece. As with France, Spain and the rest of the gang.

Power and money. They made the world go 'round.

The English bird-brains Axel traveled with knew not a word of German, bugging him entirely out of his pants. His own English perfect, he expected nothing less than some German from their pompous, prosperous tongues. Apparently Englishman thought anyone who did not speak their language had no right to be human. What ignorant bastards.

And so Axel conversed rarely. Both out of retrospect for their culture and forethought of his own. Hell, these Persian cats didn't even know what a wiener schnitzel was. Or the Oktoberfest.

Talk about savage.

"Gehen Sie weiter," he grumbled, pushing a few explorers forward. "If we don't hurry up those cats will get us." Axel wanted out before dark lest those savage beasts come out. However, jaguars are very shy creatures, and would not have approached them on their own.

One explorer, Edward Bristow, tripped and hit his head on the rock. Blood spewed everywhere and it took an hour to get him cleaned up. Expectantly, Axel was furious.

"Steh auf!" He growled, pulling poor Bristow to his feet as crimson rolled down his face. "Get up you lazy swine. Saukerl!" Not even a drop of compassion for the man bleeding out of his skull.

The whole team, racked with fright, followed close behind. Bristow was left screaming for help, but it was too late. As they trudged into the milky sunset they hear no more of him.

Just another loss. Just another stupid Brit.

A pittance to pay.

That's what you get in the land of the savage.

The men stopped, trying to collect what happened only an hour ago. None of them looked at the German, and tension started to take hold. Sure, Axel learned his domination from the military schools in Germany, but please. These men treated him like some sort of…

Of jaguar.

So Axel struck up a conversation. "Why are you filthy lot mad at me? Men get lost in the jungle all the time." he pulled out a Lucky's cigarette from his pouch pocket and lit it, placing it in his mouth afterwards. A strange habit for an Englishman. Not so strange for one such as himself.

They didn't reply. Axel started to get frustrated. "Are you going to answer me? Beantworten Sie mir." Eye-contact lacked; they simply didn't want to associate.

Finally, a younger Brit piped up, looking down at his mud-covered shoes. "… You killed him." The youngster winces, and another comrade put an arm around his shivering shoulders.

Axel pursed his lips. "Oh, pish posh," mumbled. "The man was aging. He wouldn't have survived." This was true.

"B-But now those cats have go' 'im!" piped Young Brit. "We go' ta go back!" He stood up, trying to seem impressive in his small resistance. To Axel his accent sounded more Scottish, and he shot that idea down like a bombing plane.

"Nien. We can't loose more men. And there'll be nothing left of the old bag of bones, just… well… a bag of bones!" He laughed at his own joke. No one else joined him.

Stupid cats. Stupid England.

Grumbling, Axel pulled out the framework for their tents. This spot seemed the perfect place to set up camp, as it was not in the way of any wild animals. He made a trail, using old twine and rope. Now no one could get lost. Feeling proud, he attached the last of the poles together and called his comrades.

"He! Get over here. Faule Leute…" he muttered under his breath, running a bony hand through his mangled, spiky locks. Sometimes these men were so dense. Like a rock. Or a dog. If you told them not to pee on the carpet, they'd find another off-limits area. Germans certainly were smarter.

Like ordered, the Britons circle around him, faced still reflecting grief and misery. Axel, taken aback by the sullen mood, made the mistake of becoming angry. "Oh, bitte. This isn't the end of the world. One man. Just one man. None of us new him well. He was a fremde, a stranger. New to this company, too." His statement sounded logical, but time would tell. The faces once plastered in agony turned to rage.

One of the British men stood up, shaking with fury. He was brown-blonde, with a small gotee and bright fawn eyes. Axel estimated his age -- 22. Young for an explorer. "You stupid Germans don't know anything about friendship. Obviously. Because in our homeland you stick together, even if he was new. And being old is all the more reason to have protected him." Chocolate optics burned into Axel's green ones, and for a second he felt a shiver run down his spine. "How dare you think of him as… as inferior. You treated him like an animal, like a jaguar. Hell, you act as if we all are wild cats!"

Another, a larger man with straight-up black hair and similar optics to the last speaker, stood up and walked to his side. "I," he started, eyes downcast, "for one agree." Nothing more was said.

How dare they. Those little Englishman and their elegant, soft robes and those dainty silver spoons and the beauteous, cushy pillows with duck feathers that always made you sneeze. Their stupid, proper cups of tea and their oh-so polite "cheerio". It made him sick. Inside, Axel felt proud to be German.

"Bockmist! Bullshit to that." Axel came from a war-like family, and so naturally swear words came along with the package. "We are humans. Want me to spell it out? H-U-M-A-N-S. Memorize it." He put a finger to his temple, a most notable gesture when he was being sarcastic.

Having enough, the crew gave up on their leader and snuggled into sleeping bags, saying nothing after the header argument. Soon he could hear nothing but his own breathing. Wasn't this expedition about claiming territory. As the night progressed, he became more and more agitated over one small question.

Which side did this benefit?

Axel slept badly that night. He tossed and turned, moaning and groaning about nothing he could remember the next day. But in the current, he seemingly swam in his bed, as it has been proven through scientific knowledge that the average person walks four miles in their bed. This was not some sort of marathon, however. Axel ran for his life.

On either side of him three hungry cats prowled, eyeing his body and licking their blood-stained jaws. With no modern aids to protect him, Axel became pinned to a tree, the fear of moving seemed unbearable.

Then, the cats attacked him. First they scratched his face, then they bit his leg. Axel howled in pain, thrashing and squirming until he finally woke up, drenched in sweat.

We've explained much about the conflicts between Germany and England, but there's one subject, my friends, that I've purposely let slip through the cracks. It seems I've forgotten how a certain young redhead came to be. Well, let's expand on that, shall we?

Now, you'd think that a great general like Axel came from a noble, wealthy part of Germany.

Unfortunately, you would be direly incorrect.

Growing up in Frankfurt made men out of little boys fast. Note, Berlin was not as bad back then. So many people crammed into such a small area had it's burdens, especially when your father was a watchmaker. No one cared about the time in Frankfurt, so rarely did he make money.

Watch making did not make you rich. Ever.

Often, Axel forced himself to eat from trashcans, bring some home to his family. Often money ran out, usually from his father's obsession with prostitutes. His mother wasn't much better, being a heavy drug addict and alcoholic.

So he lived on his own, and at the ripe age of sixteen joined the army. It became the only family he had.

As planned, Axel was promoted to colonel, then lieutenant. General came only a few years later, after fighting in many wards against Austria. No one asked about his heritage. No one cared. Exactly the way he wanted it.

Being more anti-social then the rest of the gang made Axel an outcast, especially among a country known for it's exuberant energy. His only social time with the crew happened to be disciplinary, barking orders or insulting them in German.

But Axel loved nature, and his fascination for the main animal in the Jungle of Africa was what really got him interested in this expedition. The leopard, most commonly confused with the jaguar, enticed Axel more than any amount of money. Now, I know that throughout the story we've been referring to leopards as jaguars, but Axel became quite annoyed with correcting everyone, and sought to ignore their great and stupid misjudgments.

Ax Axel watched falling stars glide over him, a rustle in the bushes awoke him from his reverie. He sat up, listening with keen hearing for the sound, and heard it yet again. "Hallo?" Called out the bewildered German, "Ist da jemand? Is anyone there?"

Yet nothing answered, so Axel decided to find one for himself. He stood, feeling his way towards the sound, which happened to be a grove of bushes. As he got closer, the ratting and snapping of twigs increased. Certainly something.

"Hello? Hallo? Sprechen Sie Deutsch?" Well, they probably did not speak German. Stupid question, Axel.

A form sped out of the bushes, turning heel away from him. Axel caught the shape that closely resembled a human. But a human in the forest? He was curious. "Wait a minute! Gedulden Sie sich bitte einen Augenblick!" But it was too late.

Standing there, pajama's just barely slipping off, Axel stared ahead with mesmerized eyes. Little did he know they would meet again.

Soon.

A/N: what do you think? This'll be a short little story, basically a cross between Pocahontas and Tarzan, with the lovely characters you cherish and remember from, you guessed it, KINGDOM HEARTS!

So without further ado, an update has already been written and will be posted soon. AND german is NOT my first language. Most of these translations came from dictionaries so don't mention any errors in grammar.