Fanfiction – PRISON=BREAK / Prologue

>> Fanfiction Series


Imagine you are Alfred , jailed in a maximum security prison; knows nothing about the past—but just a glitch of memory about a man named Arthur Kirkland, his roommate. What would you do if you were to be him?

Rated: 17+ PG.
Length: varied
Fandom: Axis Power Hetalia >> WARNING: ALTERNATE UNIVERSE! (AU)
Featuring: USUK {America x England}

  • America as Alfred F. Jones
  • England as Arthur Kirkland
  • and other characters in next chapters.

Recommended: #background-music:

The Waiting – Immediate Music
Eyes of a Nation – Immediate Music
Liberty Shield – Immediate Music

>> Onward:

{ Who am I? Who are you? }

An AU! Hetalia fanfiction, featuring mainly USxUK and few other pairings. May include abusive language, but safely rated T.


“Are you sure that you want to be with me?”

“Yes I am, so what if I am not? You can’t force me to say no.”

“You git … You really are a bloody hell of a mess, aren’t you?”

“Well, all you do are asking questions and force me, but this time, you are not allowed to do that, idiot.”

“I can’t say anything to let you reject this offer, can I? … But Jones, I am thankful you are here.”


It is dark. It is cold.

When I woke up from my slumber, I found nothing but darkness that was enveloping my eyes. I see nothing, and I know none about myself. I don’t know my name and where I come from. My mind seems blank and my head hurts like hell. Questions begin to flood in my mind, asking what this place is, and why I am here.

But some of the questions are answered when my eyes give me a glimpse of light—making me understand where I am.

I am in a room, illuminated by a single lamp that still gives this room the stench of darkness—with a single hard bed which I currently laying on, a toilet seat beside—and moreover—I am in a room where white, steel bars are trapping me in.

Where am I? Prison? It looks a hell lot like it.

“So you are awake.”

The call inside of the room that I managed to hear clearly had awfully reminded me that I am not the only human who stays in this room. There is another one; and based from his voice, he is not that friendly. But in the same time, it seemed sad too.

He is standing at the corner of the room, looking at the dark outside from the inside of the steel bars that know no single way to be broken. He crossed his arms and expressionless. He has a pair of brilliant emerald eyes, and dirty blond bangs—and what made me wanted to laugh in this questionable situation: his heavy brows. His figure—every single thing about him is beautiful, and why do I get this nostalgic feeling after I have seen those green eyes? But it’s nothing serious, it would have seemed.

After he realized that I am staring at him, he clears up his throat and I manage to think up a reply, “Oh, hey. What is your name and what is this place?” I tried to titter, but he doesn’t smile. Hey! At least I am trying to light the mood. But that doesn’t seem to work. His naked emerald orbs, however, are in shock; they blink rapidly before he starts to clear up his throat once more. Totally defies my first expectation.

“The lad name is Arthur, the eldest of the Kirkland family,” he points out his finger to the ID plate on his shirt, upper-left of his breast pocket. Oh, there is his name. ‘Arthur Kirkland’. And a bunch of numbers below it: ’1233.01.03.2029’. I reply with a slight chuckle, “Fancy meeting you, Arthur. I recon you are a British …?”

“Do you have any problems with me being a British?” he glared at me and I heard him sniggered.

“No, I think.”

After I realize that his name is written on the ID card, I see mine myself on my own plate—it is written very clearly, with capitalized font and metallic sense from it—my name is Alfred F.Jones. Well, don’t ask me where that F. comes from. I know no single thing.

“Well, Alfred F.Jones—“

“Call me Alfred,” I halted his words, being not comfortable with him calling me with that long name.

“Alright, whatever it is, Alfred—“

Suddenly, a very loud bell makes the spine on my back starts to frighten me out. There I know, my hunch tells me that this is no game, nor a child play. Arthur however, groaned in annoyance and let his body gives gesture in a steady pace.

Arthur’s emerald eyes come to look mine once again, his expression is still expressionless as ever, “I take that you are a bit surprised? But there is no time to be. This is a prison—”

“So I am in a prison,” I cut with my expression being grimmer than before. I really am in a prison.

But for what cause?

“The biggest and the most favoured prison in Earth at the year of 2020, with the renowned maximum security and is still taking a lot of criminals from all over the world. Big or small, it doesn’t matter,” he said, “Well, you should be proud that you were sent here. At least gave yourself some gratitude, not?” His sarcasm hit me hard, for I didn’t know what made me be in this place.

He continues, “Every day, criminals are killed here. Weak ones are crushed by stronger ones, while officers don’t help too since they are too, secretly killers,” he says while massaging softly his forehead, “Corruptors paid the officers some of their money to keep them safe. This place is no prison.”

Killed. The criminals are being killed here.

And me? I think I’m going to be one of them. I mean, being the victim. I’m a criminal, that doesn’t know what sin to be atoned here for.

“Do you know where I am getting at?” He suddenly says, and the bars that lock us out from the outside are reverting back to the ground. The darkness that hid us from the outside is exchanged with metallic scenery.

The room that is shone from the darkness suddenly give us blimey light—more powerful and brighter than you could have ever imagined. While I am still a bit confused on everything, Arthur walked out from the bars and said, “Stay with me, or else you will be killed. This place is no child’s playground.”

“Oh, caring for me, Artie?” I teased him, and I could see a little red shade on his cheek, but he totally brushed it off with some words, “It’s not like I care about you Jones! It will be troublesome if you die and I will get another bloody roommate. Consider me too kind for your deed. And my name is Arthur,” he walked out from the bars without waiting for me, but I hurried on and finally found myself in a lift.

“Click that blinking red button on your bracelet. It automatically detects your position,” he explains me while he too, clicks on his bracelet. After we both clicked ours, we still need to wait for minutes.

“Why should we click this bracelet?”

“If you don’t, the authorized personnel up there,” he pointed his finger up, “Will click another button and your bracelet will inject you a deadly poison, and you’ll be dead.”

“Oh shit … Remind me to always click on the bracelet, Artie.”


“Why the wait …? Shit, this takes too long!” I complained. Why should we have to wait like a pair of dumbfounded guinea pigs in this fucking place? I don’t have more patience to waste.

“We need to wait for the other prisoners to click on their bracelets. They want all of us to go to the great hall at once,” he explains, and the door begins to close out and the lamp in the lift suddenly turns off.

“They love the dark, don’t they…?”

“It’s to make a psychological disorder. They want us to know that we are in no game. We are in their territory. We are in their kill zone,” Arthur says, while crossing his arms in front of his chest, tightening as seconds flow by.

Who are these they? And why the hell is that Arthur guy looks like he knows every single thing in this prison? Silence envelops us, and I just don’t like where this to go at all.

“What is this great hall?”

After the lift starts to move down at constant speed, he remains in silence for a while. I managed to see bullets of sweats are dripping down from his forehead. His hands look tense and he finally exhales, “You okay …?” I ask.

But he has no time to answer my puny question—all left for us to see is the light from the outside after the door has opened for us, and I see a lot of people in the great hall.

“This great hall you ask … is the place for every prisoner is going to be tortured for hours.”

I can’t believe my eyes that see all of this shit. Those people … What are they?

“Welcome to World’s Prison, Alfred F. Jones, and be serious since this is only just, the beginning,” the Briton sniggered with a slight worry in his eyes, and there I know.

I am in a place, clouded with mysteries and the answers to my questions. There is Arthur Kirkland, my roommate which strangely familiar in my eyes. And then there is the World’s Prison where I’m stuck in.

I’m bound to bring myself over to my own doom.

No—I’m in the very heart of the doom itself. I am doomed.

About alice3ify
Nothing is mundane for her except a pencil with a paper, a tablet with its PC.

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