This chapter is not meant to offend, harm, or insult anyone or anybody. This is made purely for entertainment. Thank you for understanding.

:)

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⚠️ Warning: None ⚠️

[1880 Words]

[America's POV]

[Two months after initial attack, around same time as previous chapter]

America steps off the private jet, his black dress shoes clacking slightly on the metal staircase. He looks up at the sky, hair blowing slightly in the breeze. He takes a deep breath. Metal, fire, and a hint of sadness fill his nostrils.

It's been a while since he's been here.

"Iraq," A voice sighed from behind America. It was POA. "A very interesting country, if I do say so myself. The people are quite divided. It causes so much pain." He adds as an afterthought, "It's ironic how they finally get to be the heros after all this."

America tuned out the other. He's been doing that a lot lately, deciding it was a better alternative to breaking out into a fight every time POA opened his mouth. Weird, how this war has silenced him, when everything before hasn't.

Was he really as outdated as POA claimed? Was he losing his touch?

America has felt that drive fade away in the past couple of years. The motivation to keep going, to be greater and greater. How far could he even go when he was already at the end? The finish line?

'Down.' America's mind supplied helpfully. He could only go down.

Whether POA would be this country's saving grace or just another peg towards America's ultimate end, they would only see. America just wished he had a choice in it.

He sighed, taking off his sunglasses. He bathed in the light of the sun.

"Why are we here?" He asks.

America isn't looking at POA, but he can almost feel the other man raising an eyebrow. "To oversee, of course." POA replies. "Dropping in for a visit can do wonders."

America shrugged. The last time he saw Iraq was a couple of years ago, and they had barely been able to keep up a civil conversation.

America had been there to order out the next movement against the ISIS, while also overseeing actions for repossessing Iraq's weapons for mass destruction. At the time, it had seemed necessary. Now, America realizes it had been done when he was blinded with panic. The whole operation had barely fixed a thing.

The only major change that was resulted was the loose grip America had gained over the smaller nation's country. America had forced himself in and taken what he had seen fit.

It's depressing in the way nations like him treat the smaller ones. Big over the small. Strong over the weak.

But... would it be so bad to say that America... misses those times?

Of course, his country still had advantages and control over the small, and was actively continuing to do so, but before... America had made that choice. Not POA.

And to have a choice, to have control... it was something America realized he has taken for granted. He has no control over his government anymore. His states. His nation.

I̶t̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶T̶h̶i̶r̶t̶e̶e̶n̶ ̶a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶.̶

America would do anything for a choice again, even if it was taking it from others.

And it was a scary thought. A very scary thought.

Because unlike before, America knew he was walking back into the dark. Back into the shadows, where the chance of losing himself was high. There was a chance he would never come back. Never recover.

But at least it was his choice, right?

"We'll be meeting up with Syria in a nearby city." POA piped up, now standing in front of America. While America had been deep in thought, a group of tall men in black suits had surrounded the pair. It wasn't unusual, and America immediately assumed they were bodyguards. "The city is relatively safe. It's a good distance away from the Syrian and Saudian Arabian border, and more towards Iran. We'll be taking a car."

And as if the gods had heard POA, a sleek black car pulled up into the loading area just then. The group of men watched silently as it approached, the chauffer hustling out of his seat to pull open the passenger door.

The man bowed his head politely. "Welcome to Iraq, sir." He spoke English perfectly, and his voice carried a Southern accent. The man was obviously American.

Because even if Iraq and America were "allies", each country still chose to only trust their own. America glanced at POA. He wondered if he was thinking the same thing. If he was, it was probably only a further motivator for his cause.

America and POA climbed into the vehicle, nodding at the chaffer on the way in. The group of men waited behind for their own.

As the chaffer closed the door behind America, America couldn't help but already sigh. He placed a forearm on the car's windowsill, peering outside at particularly nothing.

He could tell this was going to be a long day...

But then again, when was it not?

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The men in black suits pushed open the double doors, lining up on the sides of the walls to allow POA and America to step in first. America was standing slightly behind POA to his right, giving him enough coverage to slip on his shades before prying eyes could land on him. His blood-red eyes darted behind his sunglasses as he took in the room.

It was a rectangular room, with a dome ceiling made of glass. Rays of red-orange sunlight peeked through, used as a way to light up the room instead of the more commonly used lamps. A long, rectangular table sat in the middle of the room, half of the seats already taken. They were filled with people either donned in military medals or with glasses and holding clipboards.

"You finally made it," A man with a hardened face spoke up. He was staring straight at America, ignoring all the other men that had come in with him. "Was there air traffic?" He mocked.

Green eyes met red.

"Iraq," America exclaimed, smiling wolfishly. Despite that, he had a tired look behind his shades. "How long has it been? Two, three years?"

"Five." Iraq grumbled.

America shrugged, uncaring. "The same thing."

He took his seat, POA to his right and a random military general America didn't know the name of to his left. Their position left America directly across Iraq, the eye contact almost unbearable. At least, maybe to others. America was used to these games. It was his life.

"Let's cut the small talk." Iraq said. He placed his elbows on the table, clasping his hands before his scarred lips. "We are stretched thin. Our borders hold enemies on all sides. We've successfully pushed into Syria, but Saudi Arabia and Iran are putting up a hard fight. Afghanistan is helping us with Iran on Iran's east border, but it does not completely eliminate the problem. And while your supply is coming through at a constant rate, I fear Iran is attempting to create a blockade in the Persian Sea."

"You doubt our navy?" America asked.

Iraq scoffed. "Of course not. It is simply a warning."

America felt POA's eyes on him as he mulled. Today was an America-does-all-the-talking day, apparently.

"We will talk to Afghanistan," America started, "He will handle Iran. You will focus on Saudi Arabia and Syria. Although, I doubt Syria will be a problem. I predict Syria will fall in the next one or two month. They already had weapons pointed at each other. Put a little external pressure and the cracks already present will shatter them."

America felt more alive than he has been in the last several months. He just told Iraq what to do. He made a choice-- his own choice.

"When will the next carrier come in?" Iraq asked. Pens around the room scratched as the men wrote down every word said.

"Expect a week. Two, if there happens to be... delays." America replied. It was no question that all eyes were on him. Not just in this room, but globally too. Europe and Asia were crouched low, prepared and ready to attack. America and his states were expecting an ambush any time soon now-- Europe and Asia have already recovered from the shock. It was surprising how quick they scrambled together, considering their history.

"A week?! That's much too long!" One of Iraq's advisors exclaimed. He pushed up his glasses, hastily writing something on his clipboard. "We need those supplies now. Guns, tanks, planes-- we are low on everything, sir."

Iraq interjected before America could even open his mouth. "We'll survive. We're fine." He said firmly, glaring at his advisor.

"No, um. He's right." Another advisor piped up. "Saudi Arabia is pushing back hard. If we let up because we're low, they might get past our borders."

America watched intently as Iraq's jaw tightened.

"We do not need the Americans." Iraq hissed in Arabic. "Stop acting like we are helpless."

America could see the passion in Iraq's eyes as he spoke. He had a need to appear strong. The need to come off as powerful. It was something America understood more than anything. Something that as personifications, they all did.

But since they all needed to be powerful, some were going to be less powerful than others. You couldn't all be equal, after all.

"You should listen to your advisors, Iraq." America said. Iraq's furious gaze snapped towards the former. "They aren't wrong."

Iraq stood up, his chair scratching the floor as it was shoved backwards. "I have survived hundreds of years before you came along. Why do you think you are so important?"

"Did those hundreds of years you survived without me also against three enemies at once?"

"You dragged me and my country into this mess yourself! This was never my problem!" Iraq yelled. The bodyguards lined up on the walls shuffled nervously as tensions started to get aggressive.

"That's not true." America said automatically. He felt POA's gaze bore into him. But unlike previous times, it felt full of pride. America was preaching his words. POA's.

What happened to the control he just had five seconds ago? Was it that easy? That easy to just... lose it all??

America shot up to his feet.

"Everyone out." He demanded. "Except for Iraq."

Heads shot up. Uneasy looks were passed through the room.

"I said out!!" America yelled.

That seemed to get people to move. Everyone stood up, murmuring as they walked out. Even POA went, without a word, smirking. He gave America a knowing look.

It made America bristle.

"Yes, even y'all." America sighed towards the bodyguards. "It's an order. We'll be fine."

It took several minutes for everyone to shuffle out, but when everyone had finally left, America turned back to Iraq.

America strained a smile. "Let's talk, yeah?"

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A/N:

Ooo cliffhanger!! I wonder what will happen next?

Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed this chapter ^^

Have a great day/night, and see y'all next time!! Make sure to drink some water and get some sleep.

Bye!

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED APRIL 24TH, 2023

EDITED ON JANUARY 18TH, 2025 ✅️