Unpromised Home

a disruption to peace

'in which it all goes wrong'

You make eye contact with him for a long uncomfortable moment. You assume the eye contact is mutual unless he's simply cross-eyed behind his dark sunglasses. You highly doubt that though.

Shoving yourself backwards on the dirty ground, you continue to stare at him blankly. He looked strange to say the least. Maybe it was just the fact that you had never properly seen him in person. Maybe it was the almost deranged rage that hid behind those glasses, staring at you with scrutiny as your heart begins to race.

Your hands pricked with pain as you push your hands further into the ground. He tilts his head mockingly, his white and blue hair falling around his glasses as he does. He shifted his weight towards you slightly and you spring to your feet, hastily adding distance between you and him.

"What? Afraid?" America laughs quietly at you as you take another few steps away. He thinks you're a joke. Your stare merges fear with anger and your fist began to shake.

"No. Of course I'm not." Of course you're not. This is the guy who held up a fucking Mcdonald's in the future. Who would be afraid of that?

Your breath hitched when he suddenly flashed a card in front of your eyes. It was a card you recognized all too well. It was your ID. Where the hell did he get that?

"Right... Sure." He shoves the card back into an internal pocket of his suit, "Now, I believe we have some buisness to take care of [Name]"

"Like what, creep?" You snap back, inching farther down the alley. He sighs at your meek insult, raising his sunglasses to rest in his curly hair. This reveals his eyes, blue and swimming with loathing.

"I've been waiting to meet you for months now." America tilts his head again, "Six months if you want to be exact. First, the human investigators have no luck finding you. Then the states take their sweet time reporting anything, and now I've run out of patience."

"Patience for what? We've never met before!" You roll your eyes, "What sort of vendetta could you possibly have against me?"

"You're an anomaly." His simple phrasing only raised more questions. How the hell did he come to that conclusion from simply your ID? He's not wrong, but you swore you hadn't done anything to give yourself away.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb." He almost snarled at you, taking large steps toward you. You stumble backwards, trying to keep distance between yourself and him. Your plan gets cut short as you slam your back into a wall at the end of the alley, trapping you between it and an increasingly angry country.

"You have a gaping hole in your story, I advise you fix it." He crosses his arms, glaring down at you, "Where are you from? I want the truth." Shit, shit, shit! If he had your ID he definitely knew you weren't from here. Not only that you have two different stories that have been told about you in regard to where you're from in Tennessee. Which should you go with? Or should you just tell the truth?

"I'm from Roling. I hardly-" Your lie is cut off by a fist taking a rest by your ear. You feel your chest pound as though your heart is trying to burst its way out.

"I said the truth." Your throat tightens as you try to avoid his scrutinizing glare. That proves difficult as he stands in your eye line. "Go on." You remain quiet. His fist that was still resting on the wall tightened, his anger heightening at your continued silence.

"Fine! Fine." Your breath shakes as you sigh, trying to relax despite your situation, "I'm from [city]."

"Which state?"