2P: Oh, Butterscotch! [Kirk+Sherry+Poofy+Witchy] warning: blood/violence/gore

The other America was so thrilled that their counterparts were awakening that he nearly forgot to grab his bat before Arthur dragged him into the playroom. Everything had begun to fall into place so nicely. Their victims were awake and ready to go (although still suffering from the ill effects of Arthur’s deadly baking) and already Alfred felt his boredom slipping away. He almost wanted to kiss that crazy fuck for setting up such a perfect date! Of course he wouldn’t, because that would give Arthur the impression that he had done something mildly impressive. Ah well, no matter! There was so much fun to be had ~

“Quit your jabbering old man,” Alfred snarled, all remains of his nice guy act having been dropped. There was no need anymore. If these two hadn’t figured out how royally fucked they were, well than, perhaps they were doing society a favor by knocking them off the face of the earth. “I’m not waiting any longer. You two, up!” He began pacing behind Arthur like a caged animal, his bat dragging on the ground behind him. He wanted to play! No more of this damned waiting around! He swung his bat against the back wall as Arthur began his countdown. “2...” He growled, staring down his own counterpart with crimson eyes. Would he have the same incredible strength, or was he putting on a front to disguise his own weakness? Alfred didn’t know - but he was dying to find out.

“Pick your opponent! If you don’t, we’ll choose for you. Hurry up! The games are starting!” One more second. Just one more damned second! He nearly smashed his bat against the unicorn skull in his frustration, but managed to resist in favor of not pissing off his host. “Up! It’s playtime!”

Alfred found himself being shaken and he grumbled as his head pounded in protest and he swatted at the direction of Arthur's voice. "Just ten more minut's..."

Then he heard more than one set of footsteps and his instincts told him that if there was someone other than Arthur and himself in the room that meant trouble. His eye's shot open and his heated rate immediately doubled in speed. He rubbed at his eyes as they adjusted to the unusually brightly colored decor. "Wha..what's going on? Where are we!?"

He spun around catching sight of the smiling Arthur look alike carrying what looked like a horse' skull into the room and setting it onto the table. The other followed in after and they're attitude seemed to have shifted in a significantly darker tone. They were in trouble...big trouble..HUGE trouble if the collection of strange objects was anything to go by.

He didn't have time to devise some kind of escape plan either as the other England had begun counting and the number's struck a chord in Alfred that made chills run down his spine. At the same time the other him was demanding one of their attention. He glanced back at Arthur trying to disguise the panic on his expression. He gulped and toke a breath trying to think in the span of seconds what the best thing to do was.

He stood up to his feet a little shaky still from the drugged cake but he made sure not to show it. He faced the other him with a steeled look in his eyes. It would be better if he toke on..well..himself? Arthur was strong but they both knew between the two of them Alfred had a bit more brute force in him and Alfred didn't want Arthur going up against someone stronger than him. It was the best he could do to try and protect him.

"Come at me, bro!" He shouts as it is the first semi-intimidating thing he could think of.

Arthur was never that fond of countdowns - he found it at best a very useful way of intimidating someone, and at worst a general annoyance. To have it used against him was not beneficial to his state of mind right now, but he hardly believed that their alternate selves would care about it; in fact, he would not be surprised if they turned to revel in it even more. From what the other America said about them, it could be assumed that they wanted an opponent to fight, a distraction to toy with, and Arthur was not going to take that standing down.

He looked to the other America first, all semblance of pretense completely gone. Perhaps he should have seen it with his practiced movements and halting charm, but all that was left bare was the ugly menace beneath. America here would be stronger, he reasoned, more ruthless, more crude - not afraid of bashing through his consequences literally and figuratively, if the spiked metal bat was anything to go by. He wondered that if there was once a time that this America would have played 'hero' to anyone, but for now it would be a question for another day.

He then looked at himself, painfully aware of the unicorn skull dubbed as 'Fiddlesticks'. Your greatest enemy is yourself, someone from the depths of history once said, and England had no doubts that this very much applied to himself and his alternate self very, very much. He had no proper gauge of how cruel, how shrewd, how dangerous it would be to deal with himself - but to let America who was more brawn and perhaps some brain to manage this world's England...

He couldn't risk it.

Come at me, bro? Seriously?! He wanted to strangle America now - not even the direst of situations could put down his idiocy, it seems. But that statement was more reassuring than England let on to himself; he stood up, making his way over to himself, staring him squarely in the eye.

"Let's get this over with."

Arthur let out a little giggle. These other selves were quite ridiculous, but surely they would prove to be very very amusing. The island nation had been so dreadfully bored as of late, and it hadn't helped that Alfred had seemed to be losing interest in him again. Perhaps these two would prove enough of an amusement that Alfred wouldn't seem so dreadfully bored with Arthur and Arthur wouldn't have to feel that rotting feeling in his chest when Alfred failed to glance his way or visit. Oh but there certainly were more important things than Arthur's concerns! He still had guests to play with.

"Get this over with? Oh you're missing the point entirely, dearie," Arthur gave his other self a smile that simply reeked of lead sugar. His grip on the knife tightened ever so slightly.

"How long will it take for you to break?" Arthur murmured under his breath, still keeping the smile on his face. When did the smile ever leave? Nobody really knew, to be honest. Arthur knew he had to washcleansepurgescrub those nasty unhappy feelings with a smile. If he walked around with a smile, the days would be bright and maybe someone else would try to return the smile. If Arthur bothered to leave the house more often, that is.

His other self, on the other hand, seemed a grumpy little thing. Arthur reminded himself not to underestimate him. The other Arthur was likely shrewd, and efficient. While they were different, there was no denying there were traits that tied the pairs of nations together. Each Arthur was careful yet efficient and ruthless. Each Alfred careless with brute force. Arthur shivered at the thought of such a dangerous game. Nothing deepdeepsodeep down in England could deny that this was simply going to be funfunfunsomuchfun.

Arthur giggled again before lobbing the knife at the other him. He had others, and he needed to gauge the other's reaction time. "Think fast," Arthur spoke as if there were hearts invading his speech, bubbling up with glee. He couldn't stifle another chortle.

The other Alfred’s lips pulled up into a satisfied sneer. For as stupid as his counterpart acted, he knew better than to underestimate him. He suspected that they were more alike than different in terms of physical abilities and fighting styles. So, if he had to guess, this America was less inclined to plan out strategy’s and relied heavily on his gut and immense strength to get him out of tough scraps. He was almost tempted to take advantage of the other’s obvious weakness, but thought better of it. Alfred wasn’t much for planning himself, and besides, it was so much more enticing to fight on equal footing. The stupid American would live longer and he would be able to keep his boredom at bay -- everybody wins.

Unlike Arthur, Alfred opted for the more practical approach. The moment his counterpart named himself his target, Alfred was moving. He had plenty of time to grab his trusty bat and smash it over the other man’s head, but he didn’t bother. Where was the fun in ending the game before it even had the chance to get good? Oh no, he had a much better plan in mind. He sprinted past the two Arthur’s, dead set on tackling America to the ground. It had been so long since he had enjoyed a good wrestling match. Usually his opponents were so weak and boring. It hardly took anytime at all for his hands to find their way around their neck, snapping their brittle bones like toothpicks~

Alfred slammed against the other, body tense and ready. His fist shot forward, looking to catch underneath his jaw. He wasn’t much hoping to make a hit right now -- unless his counterpart really was as stupid as he looked and hadn’t noticed him crossing the room. In reality, he was simply testing the other’s strength and reaction time. He grinned deviously. There was oh so much fun to be had today! If only Arthur had treats like this every day, perhaps he wouldn’t be such a boring old foogie~ Ah well, for now, he was in his debt. At least until something more interesting came along.

Alfred had his eyes side tracked as he was watching to his side trying to keep one eye on Arthur as the knife was thrown at him. He couldn't keep watch for long thought before he heard heavy footsteps on the floor pounding in his direction. He hoped Arthur could handle things himself. He was about to have his own hands full.

He turned and saw the other America tackle at him and being slightly caught off his balance he tumbled to the floor but not without grasping onto the other's clothes and bringing him with him. America hissed as his back hit the floor sharply but gritted his teeth and held his hands up catching the punch that was thrown at him and pushing back against the other's hand, squeezing. This guy was strong, which really was to be expected but Alfred rarely went up against anyone at the same level as he was. This was..a challenge..this was bad.

He tried to move his legs, hands occupied and pulled his knees up trying to force and kick the other off of him, knee him in the crotch, anything to get himself out from under the other's advantage. He usually wasn't likely to be offensive in a fist fight but he knew this was no time to be sympathetic. So as soon as he could he reared back his own fist and aimed for the other American's nose.

If he could flip them over, maybe grab something near by to help. He spared a glance around but the room was fairly clean, nothing strewn about. Well at least they weren't rolling on garbage a small voice tried to say brightly in the back of his head. Still that couldn't make any better the fact that this other Alfred was looming over him with a look of eagerness.

When the knife came through the air, Arthur would like to tell Peter one day that he bent over with his flexible spine and dodged the knife by the skin of his nose like in the movie 'The Matrix' Alfred was so fond of. (Or was it Men in Black? Arthur could not bother to keep up sometimes, tree were more pressing matters to attend to. Criticising America's poor execution of screenplay would have to remain his hobby.)

But this was not one of America's movie, and if it did happen to be one it fall under the slasher/gore/horror category that Arthur always reserved his most scathing remarks for. Arthur threw himself down to the side, the knife nicking his cheek, a thankfully superficial wound. The said knife skittered and spun away to the two Alfreds' area and Arthur took a moment to worry over America.

Then it was back to business. 

Retrieving the knife would only waste time and serve as a sufficient distraction for his alternate self to catch him off guard yet again - something entirely unaffordable. The moment Arthur ran the risk of being incapacitated it would mean horrid consequences for both America and himself - America would have to fend off both adversaries and Arthur would be unable to defend himself further against any tactics they decide to employ. That was more danger than it was worth. 

Arthur grabbed a random knife by its hilt off the Table of Knives as he have dubbed it and lunged for himself, pulling back at the last moment. He has no intention of leaving himself fully open to any attacks as careless lunges always do - at best, this will reveal if his counterpart fought the same way here. He may have been a privateer in the past and able to hold his own in a fight,but years of land have made him rusty and more comfortable than he would have been in the past. 

Whatever way, he would come out of this victorious. The sun never sets on the British Empire, he thinks back fondly with a grim undertone, and he would not fail himself now.