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hetalia2009-04-07 11:47 pm
yaoi-rox-me-sox.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2009-04-07 11:47 pm
[FANFIC] Extraordinary
Title: Extraordinary
Author/Artist: Yours truly, yaoi_rox_me_sox
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Egypt-centric, slight America/Egypt, allusions to previous Turkey/Egypt, and appearances by other random countries
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Brief descriptions of torture, slight gayness, and the UN. Seriously.
Summary: Extraordinary rendition, UN Legal meetings, America, and how they all lead Egypt to self-realization about the dark side of nations.
They had set the heating too low again. Or so Egypt felt on the subject. But as he glanced around, pulling his layers of linen closer to his body, he spotted Sweden fanning the smaller Finland who appeared to be sweating terribly in his suit. All a matter of typical climate he supposed. As he watched the poor young man finally give up and strip off his jacket, he wondered offhandedly how he would withstand a day in his land. Not well, that was certain. Despite how morally upright he seemed, it wouldn’t be out of place to assume he would be willing to strip down completely as Italy seemed prone to do even when in his own country. He wouldn’t be as comfortable with it as the other, Egypt supposed, but when faced with overheating he had seen many a foreigner stripped of their dignity simply to keep from passing out due to the heat.
The politician next to him prodded him softly, asking if he was alright, as he seemed to be dazed. Egypt merely nodded and looked down at the paperwork before him. He thought a lot, noticed other people a lot, and often found himself thinking on random tangents about other people. It seemed odd, since he didn’t really talk with anyone a whole lot, but it was because he preferred to listen. Observe.
Today though, he knew he would not be able to avoid attention. As the chairman asked for attention and called roll, the politician looked to him again. “Will we be announcing we’re voting?” he asked, but Egypt shook his head. He was making no guarantees.
When his name was called, the dark-skinned politician responded, saying simply, “Present.”
Procedure followed – calling out the rest of the countries, creating the speaker’s list – and then finally the bureaucracy could begin.
The topic was extraordinary rendition. A topic Egypt would have rather not discussed in such a large room filled with countries who did not know what they were talking about and who had no stake in the situation.
The first speaker was Italy. Or the slower one anyway. How had that happened? Egypt wondered, watching the relaxed country wonder to the stage. He took too long though, thinking and pausing for long periods before his time was called. Egypt wasn’t sure if anything had actually been said, but it didn’t matter anyway.
The next speaker was Canada. At least he was more articulate. He gave what Egypt assumed to be a heartfelt speech, in which he declared what extraordinary rendition was – which he felt was unnecessary, since any country that didn’t know what it was when they walked into the room should not be allowed to have an opinion – and declared it had to be stopped. Well good. Now the foolish and ignorant can feel as if they’re allowed to have an opinion. Grand.
The other Italy walked up. Egypt wondered briefly if that was allowed, but didn’t really mind either way. This Italy knew what he wanted to say, and gave a rousing story about a man taken from his country by America, and who was not interrogated by his own people or even America’s people, but was transported to a place where he knew human rights were terrible and where torture was not a problem.
The man had evidently been sent to Egypt.
Thankfully his time came to a swift end and he was forced to end his speech there. The speakers that followed were a blur to Egypt as the Legal meeting finally was in full swing. No one paid attention to the speakers as everyone was busy writing notes to one another, proposing their ideas and making alliances. Several found their way onto Egypt’s desk as the pageboy handed them to him and he simply let them fall onto the wood. He wasn’t all that anxious to make any alliances yet. He did not even really want to be here. So he pondered the name that the smarter Italy had mentioned. Did he remember that man?
Egypt shuffled through his papers, finding one with the name Italy had mentioned, and read briefly. Oh, yes, he remembered that one. He only remembered because a big to-do was made of it when he released a letter to the press about his treatment. As Egypt was berated by the public for his actions, he finally had to stop and look at what he had done. He had forced himself to remember what had happened to that man.
It was one of the few cases he remembered clearly.
Seven months. For seven months he was trapped in the cell. Blindfolded. Sometimes they would heat it up, and Egypt remembered the look of agony on his bright red face. Then they would cool it down until it was freezing, and the man curled in on himself as well as he could with his restraints. Egypt would merely watched as the guards would wonder in when they felt like it, be it night or day, and beat him with their fists, kick at him with their boots, spit upon him. Even Egypt felt his throat go dry as they stripped him of his clothes and smiled maliciously, administering electric shocks to his body.
Even as he sat in the UN building, he could vividly see as the man’s body went rigid like a board, his mouth open wide in a silent scream. He had goose bumps. And he didn’t think it was due to the cold.
When they would question him, Egypt would sometimes follow them in. The captors would mention to the pained man that they knew he wasn’t a big terrorist; they tried to separate themselves from the guilt. It was because America had forced him upon them. That was all. It wasn’t that they necessarily wished to.
When he asked why they beat him so, they replied it was tradition. This was simply what they did.
“They’re voting for an informal caucus,” the Egyptian politician next to him stated, pulling the country from his thoughts. He told him to vote against it. But he knew it would pass. It had to, if anything were to get done.
He was already done with this though.
When he looked up, he could not help but spot America, who was looking back at him. It seemed he was not the only one who did not want to talk about this issue.
And as he knew would happened, it passed, and the large room was filled with the chorus of politicians and nations alike speaking loudly to be heard above all the rest. Alliances, rivalries, preset ideals and stubbornness would all come to a head, and before Egypt could even wonder who he wanted to talk to, if anyone, they had already come to him. Many of his fellow Arabian nations gathered around him, some looking to him with concern in their eyes while others looked ready to battle it out on the floor. Syria was by his side in an instant, asking what they were supposed to do. They both had been a common destination for the detainees, and Syria feared they would feel the brunt of the debate. Lebanon nodded worriedly, but Jordan slammed his fist down claiming they simply could not just lie down and take it. It wasn’t their fault people were brought there, was it? They all chattered around him, but Egypt still kept to himself, thumbing his papers as he listened.
That was when he was approached by other nations. They would smile at him, and ask casually what his opinion on the matter was. Even if they acted friendly and casual, Egypt knew they only wanted to talk to him because he was a big player in the problem. His name was an important one. They wanted him on their side.
So finally he stood, and entered the game of the Legal Council. It had surprised people at first when he would speak so fluently and easily at the first few debates that he spoke in. True, he wasn’t one for talking much, Egypt knew that well and had no qualms with it. But when necessary, he could speak rather eloquently, or so he was told.
Today he told them that as a country that was involved with this issue, he wanted to make it clear that they should not be attacked for it. There was no point in lying, they all knew that, but he mentioned it anyway, if only to make himself seem more truthful. The irony hurt him. He admitted to having taken suspects from other countries, but that the ones at fault were not himself and nations like himself – he waved his hands out towards the Arabian nations standing in the circle. No, it was the larger, richer nations who pushed their suspects onto them with promises of money if they could force a confession from them who were to blame.
The words were supposed to sound heartfelt, but Egypt only felt like a radio playing a recording.
Some small little nation who he could not see in the crowd asked if that meant he felt there should be no punishment for torture. Egypt moved a bit to see the small face of Sealand. He almost wanted to reach out and slap the obnoxious child; there were more prisoners rotting away in a single cell in his country than there were people who would even admit to be Sealandian. What place does the child have in this debate? What right did he have to ask questions?
But, he supposed, as he prepared his answer, he was just a child, and one who had not been raised correctly. He didn’t have a mother and father to raise him in the proper family environment, so it was no surprise he was unruly. While it would not be fair to blame any one – even England, who in his own way served as a parental guardian – as the nations did not have children or parents in the same context as humans, he still felt that if they could marry and raise children in that environment as they should be, perhaps the nations would all get along so much better.
It was a ridiculous thought, even he could admit that. But nonetheless he believed it to be true.
Deciding not to treat the boy like a child in the situation, as it would no doubt agitate him, Egypt explained that he didn’t believe they should be punished. They were merely victims, as it were, and punishment would only create harsher conditions that would push them to even more terrible means to gain the valuable sources they needed to survive. Syria nodded vigorously behind him, while Jordan merely muttered under his breath.
“Well then, what do you suggest we do about the big bad superpowers then?” Egypt turned to look at Turkey, who had long ago opted out of his traditional garb for a suit. Pity, Egypt thought. He much preferred the man in his long, flowing robes. There was something elegant and regal about him, back in his days of power. Now though, he was moving to join the rest of the world. He had done better than Egypt. But Egypt still had his heritage.
Though he had to admit, even after all these years, the man’s grin was still the same; arrogant, condescending, and breathtaking.
Egypt swallowed with a touch more difficulty, but simply replied that he felt that there should be specified definitions first off, and with those they could bring up the countries that have initiated extraordinary rendition. With laws and deterrents in place, they could stop it there.
There were more questions then, and Egypt found himself repeating different parts of his speech over and over as new nations walked up and would ask the same questions. Over and over it was the same, and now he felt like a broken record.
Finally the caucus ended, and they had moved back into speeches. Story after story, case after case, everyone stated what had been already stated.
But it would change soon as a flurry of notes was flown about the room, handed to and from the pages that jogged around the large room. Propositions were being started; that much Egypt knew was coming. And from the notes he received and finally speeches hinting at the speakers own ideas, the ideas were beginning to finalize.
One group had the idea of legalizing the act, and then regulating it, believing it had a place, but it had to be done in a way that doesn’t involve torture. Egypt sighed and pushed this one to the side; it was ridiculous. The whole reasoning behind the act was to move the prisoners to a place where they would be able to use stricter interrogation techniques. Even if you legalized it, the nations would bypass the regulations by working through other not so legalized groups. It was simple. They wanted torture, and they would find a way to get it.
The next was something about how nations that torture had to be punished for what they had done to the prisoners, and that that would solve the issue. Hardly, Egypt almost laughed to himself. When you want to stop the flow of a river, you don’t try to push back the water at the bottom of the river and expect the whole thing to just stop.
Of course, that was avoiding the whole fact that obviously Egypt did not appreciate someone blaming him.
The third was one that like-minded nations were working on, which was pushing for stopping it at the source. But there were still little details that Egypt found aggravating in it.
Simply put, as per usual, nothing of worth was being created. So he did not pay it much mind.
The man Italy had brought up had been released eventually. He was not sent back to Italy however, and was warned to not contact anyone there. Being the fool that he was, he called his wife and some friend, and for those months did not explicitly give any details, but he didn’t exactly hide it either. He was imprisoned again, and this time it was far worse than before.
Electrodes were more common, and the beatings more intense.
Once, while Egypt came for a quick inspection of his darker side – as any nations does, as there had never been a nation Egypt met in his long history that didn’t have a darker, hideous side – he found his stomach do a small, but disgusting, flip as he watched his people force some large metal rod into his rectum. The man was screaming in pain.
He never was able to become immune to watching a man being assaulted like that. Eventually, as the men moved to rape him themselves and tears cascaded down the captives cheeks, Egypt simply had to leave.
Every nation had a darker side, but every nation also had a part of themselves that they desperately wished they could rip to small pieces, throw upon the floor and burn, all the while screaming it wasn’t them, never was a part of them, never would be a part of them. Never.
The man was never able to return to Italy, so far as Egypt knew. He had been released, as he had no information, but he stayed in the country, never leaving. Egypt was sure he had probably been forbidden from leaving, but as he didn’t handle any of the cases personally, he didn’t need to know the information and never searched it out. He did see the man walking through the streets once however; he had been handicapped by the experience, and walked awkwardly.
While Egypt never told anyone, that day he ran to an alleyway and vomited his lunch.
America never acted awkwardly around him; even that very day, when he came back to the capital building and met with the larger man, America was smiling, his white teeth glistening almost as brightly as his sky-blue eyes. Egypt always found him to be outstandingly handsome, but also a bit frightening at times. At summits with other nations, he was kind, funny, a bit brash, but still likeable.
When he came to him in his home with secret files under his arms, his smile became more feral; his normally brilliant teeth shone brighter, harsher, sharper. Egypt couldn’t help but think that if Ammit wasn’t Egyptian, America could have been her human incarnate.
But he understood.
Here – between America and himself – this was their dark side.
Today however, as Egypt prepared himself for a bombardment of propositions as another informal caucus was soon to be voted on, America was not that devourer of sinners. Today, as he finally had his turn on the podium, he was a man who had been caught in his sins, but would not back down from them. He started off strong, explaining, and ultimately justifying, the actions he and his bosses had taken. It was for protection; it was for finding information they needed in their war against terrorism that he liked to speak of so often; it was for saving, though whether saving individual lives or saving the world, it was hard to tell from his speech. For a moment, he did play the victim. It had been the countries they worked with who broke the rules; papers and promises about behavior had been made and signed, and then later ignored.
Egypt recalled each and every one of those papers. They had hardly been considered promises. If there were promises, it wasn’t in the papers. They were in the words that wafted into Egypt’s ear; the glint of that sinister smile; that hand as it reached out, grabbing and pulling him in to be tasted, devoured. In that room promises were passed with bodies, not those flimsy pieces of paper.
That image of victimization that America brought to the stage was brief however, and quickly the memory of it was smothered with strong words and convictions. America did not believe in torture; he did not torture people. He would however defend his country from terrorists. This was what America believed, and he wanted everyone to know.
Egypt noticed by the end that while extraordinary rendition had been alluded to, the nation never said the words.
He also noticed as the man walked away from the stand that his hands were fisted at his sides, and his shoulders rose and fell with heavy breath. America was tense. They were both ready for this game to end.
As he thought this, the bright blue eyes settled on him, and Egypt was caught in them. America gestured slightly toward one of the corners of the room. The Arab nodded.
When the vote came and the informal caucus began, Egypt nodded to the Egyptian politician next to him before making his way through the crowd. Some nations and diplomats tried to stop him, but he kept moving, telling them to speak with his representative. He passed Turkey on the way, and tried his hardest to act normally around the nation. Turkey cocked an eyebrow at him, but clapped him on the shoulder before they went their own ways. Egypt couldn’t help but stop for a moment, turning and watching the large man walk away, hands stuffed into the pockets of his spotless suit.
He always seemed so sure of himself. Egypt wished he had left some of that confidence behind when they eventually went their separate ways to fill the wound that still scabbed over from time to time.
Independence was his, but sometimes it didn’t seem that way. It almost seemed easier when he knew for sure it wasn’t his than to fight so hard only to ruminate over it as he slid into bed.
Now he moved again, headed straight for the where he now saw America, arms crossed and leaned against the wall. He was pinching the bridge of his nose. It amazed Egypt how similar he was to England sometimes. He would never say it aloud, but it was obvious to anyone who knew the two.
America removed the hand as Egypt approached, and smiled more out of habit than desire. It wasn’t returned.
“So, what are you doing?” Vague and still precise. Egypt almost wanted to smile himself now. He also wanted to reach out and shake the American. The reason escaped him for both. So instead he did not make any movement.
“Stopping it at the source. Italy’s might be promising. Or Zimbabwe’s.”
“Pff. What does Zimbabwe care?” America asked, not really requesting a response. He sighed, pushed his bangs back, and then glanced back up into Egypt’s dark eyes.
This was not America, the Ammit incarnate. This was America, the teenager caught in something he knew he shouldn’t do and now trying to find a way out. His young age was showing. Egypt felt superior, for just that moment.
“So… we’re not going to end up on the same side, are we?”
“No. Unless we compromise by choosing France’s plan,” Egypt replied, closing his eyes and sighing. He was tired, and it was freezing cold in the building, and all he wanted was to be able to sit by a window at home, resting in the shade as heat radiated from around him, cradling him. America’s laugh pulled him from his dream.
“Yeah, right. No way. It’s a bunch of bullshit anyway.” America sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “No biggie. You work with Zimbabwe. I’ll continue talking with Germany about his idea. Maybe sponsor that one, look like I care.” Egypt nodded, and he noted the way America laughed warmly. He was looking at him, the Arab nation knew it, could feel it on his skin. Briefly, Egypt mused on whether America would have embraced him by now had they not been surrounded by other nations, or if this America was not like his darker side and wouldn’t waste him time on such trifles.
And then he was near him, hands still tucked away in pockets and yet still he seemed to surround the smaller nation. Egypt didn’t lift his gaze. America’s hot breath drifted past his ear.
“Course, none of this matters. Nothing will be done in the end. Give it a couple months for talk to die down, and then I’ll be back, and you’ll be waiting, right?” Egypt shuddered and his mouth tightened. He dared the slightest of glances up to America’s face.
There he faced a toothy grin better suited on a crocodile.
As America patted him on the shoulder and rejoined the caucus, Egypt wanted to shudder, and not for the cold.
He placed a finger to his lips, and found a smile on his own face. Dark. Sinister
Trembling. Egypt could feel himself trembling as he considered laughing and crying all at once. He did not even start when Turkey placed an unsure hand on his shoulder from behind. “Egypt? If you’re done, Syria and Italy want to discuss their proposition… hey, you ok?”
Egypt did not reply, did not move, and really could not even think about reacting. The larger nation moved to face him. His brows furrowed.
A terrible grin and raging tears.
“Egypt…” Turkey started, but he was unsure of where to go from there. Who possibly could? They all knew it; they would all experience many times in their life. There were simply no words for it.
For Egypt however, there was a word for it. As he felt his stomach twist and his muscles tighten and his very soul threatening to rip itself away from the disgusting excuse of a being it possessed, and as he seriously considered digging his fingers into his face and shredding the twisted smile away, skin and all, and even as he considered throwing himself into the others arms and begging for comfort, for a way forget this demonic outburst, one word seared itself into his mind.
He knew then and there, as Turkey held him awkwardly, that the darkness that every nation held inside had a name and a face.
Ammit.
Devourer of millions.
The caucus ended, and Egypt pulled away from the sympathetic nation, nodding to him woodenly before wondering dazedly to his seat. As he did, Sealand ran past him. The boy’s innocence only hurt him more.
The chair called for the end of the caucus.
Abu Omar. That was the man from Italy’s name. Abu Omar.
It was simply what they did.
Egypt sat quietly, but inside he screamed.
HISTORY NOTES (warning, there's a lot):
1. Extraordinary rendition as defined by wiki: the apprehension and extrajudicial transfer of a person from one state to another. What's this mean? Basically, like in Abu Omar's story, one country pulls someone from another country and puts them in another country to be dealt with. This is usually to avoid the regulations of the main country, so it usually ends up being countries that "don't torture" sending their detainees to countries that are known for it. Aka Egypt and others. Yeah. Fun.
2. Ok, so, the UN. Assuming it runs similarily to MUN, which one would assume it does since MUN is, you know, based off of it, it's a meeting of representatives from different nations who pass stuff. To keep it simple, there are different branches, this one being legal, and in the UN there's a certain set up and regulations. Usually nations sign up on a speaker's list and speak in that order for a set amount of time. Informal Caucus is when diplomats wonder around talking, well, informally and this is really where all the action happens. Note passing is obviously where notes are passed around. For the record, it's totally possible that notes are now done electronically, I don't know. But for this fic, they're pen and paper notes. Basically the substitute for the meat of the debate when they aren't in informal caucus. Propositions are the, well, propositions of how to address the issue being discussed. Finally, deligates vote for stuff like entering informal caucus or formal caucus or, well, lots of stuff. To be honest, that's about all you absolutely have to know to understand, though it will make more sense for those who have done MUN or understand how UN runs.
Big point: UN is weird and speeches don't really matter. The action is all in the private discussions. It's all ONE BIG POLITICAL GAME.
.....yes, I may have been a bit disenchanted with UN after MUN. Why do you ask?
OH, right, and as for the whole "present" versus "present and voting" thing, basically you say from the start whether you are guarenteeing that you will vote on everything (thus voting) or if you will abstain when you want to (thus just present). Yeah.
3. This fic is focused mostly on Egypt and the U.S., as they're the main players. Other countries do this too, like Syria and stuff, but Egypt is the most common place for them to be sent I believe, and the U.S. definitely sends people around the most.
4. The whole Sealand and family thing is just me playing with how Egypt is like, 90% Muslim or something, and I learned about the whole focus on family and stuff. Cause I researched Cloning, not rendition. My partner learned that stuff, thus why I had to reresearch for the fic.
5. Ammit is like this kinda-Goddess who was basically this crocodile/lion/hippo hybrid that ate the souls of those deemed unworthy of the Egyptian equivilant of heaven, or so it seems. I don't know much more than what wiki tells me. Sorry. But yeah, devourer of hearts and stuff. It should be noted she's not really a Goddess because she just basically eats souls given to her. Also, she's the epitome of fear for the Egyptians. Even in her physical appearance, she's a combination of the most feared animals in Egypt. So yeah. SCARY, EATER OF SOULS.
6. As for the big political talk of America's, it's based mostly on the previous administrations politics. Sorry, I know we have a new guy, but fact is I grew up with Bush (sadly) and I am better acquainted with that argument than Obama's. I... have no idea how I'd write that. Still getting a handle on the new policies.
7. Yeah, Abu Omar is just one example of a dude who was pulled by the U.S. from Italy and sent to Egypt cause they thought he knew terrorist stuff. Yeah. You can look it up if you want. Warning though, it's hard to read some of it. It's funny how in yaoi, n/c isn't that big a deal, and yet for me to read about a real man really being raped... just seems so incredibly horrible. I dunno. I just know it makes me sick to my stomach.
AUTHOR NOTES:
Yeah, this is really the spawn of doing MUN. I was with my friend, in the Legal Committee, representing Egypt, debating Extraordinary Rendition (and later cloning). Yeah. Can you see where this came from? So I took it and played with it in Hetalia. Cause Egypt isn't a country that's played with, and even when he isn't not his darker side. So yeah. There you go.
Author/Artist: Yours truly, yaoi_rox_me_sox
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Egypt-centric, slight America/Egypt, allusions to previous Turkey/Egypt, and appearances by other random countries
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Brief descriptions of torture, slight gayness, and the UN. Seriously.
Summary: Extraordinary rendition, UN Legal meetings, America, and how they all lead Egypt to self-realization about the dark side of nations.
They had set the heating too low again. Or so Egypt felt on the subject. But as he glanced around, pulling his layers of linen closer to his body, he spotted Sweden fanning the smaller Finland who appeared to be sweating terribly in his suit. All a matter of typical climate he supposed. As he watched the poor young man finally give up and strip off his jacket, he wondered offhandedly how he would withstand a day in his land. Not well, that was certain. Despite how morally upright he seemed, it wouldn’t be out of place to assume he would be willing to strip down completely as Italy seemed prone to do even when in his own country. He wouldn’t be as comfortable with it as the other, Egypt supposed, but when faced with overheating he had seen many a foreigner stripped of their dignity simply to keep from passing out due to the heat.
The politician next to him prodded him softly, asking if he was alright, as he seemed to be dazed. Egypt merely nodded and looked down at the paperwork before him. He thought a lot, noticed other people a lot, and often found himself thinking on random tangents about other people. It seemed odd, since he didn’t really talk with anyone a whole lot, but it was because he preferred to listen. Observe.
Today though, he knew he would not be able to avoid attention. As the chairman asked for attention and called roll, the politician looked to him again. “Will we be announcing we’re voting?” he asked, but Egypt shook his head. He was making no guarantees.
When his name was called, the dark-skinned politician responded, saying simply, “Present.”
Procedure followed – calling out the rest of the countries, creating the speaker’s list – and then finally the bureaucracy could begin.
The topic was extraordinary rendition. A topic Egypt would have rather not discussed in such a large room filled with countries who did not know what they were talking about and who had no stake in the situation.
The first speaker was Italy. Or the slower one anyway. How had that happened? Egypt wondered, watching the relaxed country wonder to the stage. He took too long though, thinking and pausing for long periods before his time was called. Egypt wasn’t sure if anything had actually been said, but it didn’t matter anyway.
The next speaker was Canada. At least he was more articulate. He gave what Egypt assumed to be a heartfelt speech, in which he declared what extraordinary rendition was – which he felt was unnecessary, since any country that didn’t know what it was when they walked into the room should not be allowed to have an opinion – and declared it had to be stopped. Well good. Now the foolish and ignorant can feel as if they’re allowed to have an opinion. Grand.
The other Italy walked up. Egypt wondered briefly if that was allowed, but didn’t really mind either way. This Italy knew what he wanted to say, and gave a rousing story about a man taken from his country by America, and who was not interrogated by his own people or even America’s people, but was transported to a place where he knew human rights were terrible and where torture was not a problem.
The man had evidently been sent to Egypt.
Thankfully his time came to a swift end and he was forced to end his speech there. The speakers that followed were a blur to Egypt as the Legal meeting finally was in full swing. No one paid attention to the speakers as everyone was busy writing notes to one another, proposing their ideas and making alliances. Several found their way onto Egypt’s desk as the pageboy handed them to him and he simply let them fall onto the wood. He wasn’t all that anxious to make any alliances yet. He did not even really want to be here. So he pondered the name that the smarter Italy had mentioned. Did he remember that man?
Egypt shuffled through his papers, finding one with the name Italy had mentioned, and read briefly. Oh, yes, he remembered that one. He only remembered because a big to-do was made of it when he released a letter to the press about his treatment. As Egypt was berated by the public for his actions, he finally had to stop and look at what he had done. He had forced himself to remember what had happened to that man.
It was one of the few cases he remembered clearly.
Seven months. For seven months he was trapped in the cell. Blindfolded. Sometimes they would heat it up, and Egypt remembered the look of agony on his bright red face. Then they would cool it down until it was freezing, and the man curled in on himself as well as he could with his restraints. Egypt would merely watched as the guards would wonder in when they felt like it, be it night or day, and beat him with their fists, kick at him with their boots, spit upon him. Even Egypt felt his throat go dry as they stripped him of his clothes and smiled maliciously, administering electric shocks to his body.
Even as he sat in the UN building, he could vividly see as the man’s body went rigid like a board, his mouth open wide in a silent scream. He had goose bumps. And he didn’t think it was due to the cold.
When they would question him, Egypt would sometimes follow them in. The captors would mention to the pained man that they knew he wasn’t a big terrorist; they tried to separate themselves from the guilt. It was because America had forced him upon them. That was all. It wasn’t that they necessarily wished to.
When he asked why they beat him so, they replied it was tradition. This was simply what they did.
“They’re voting for an informal caucus,” the Egyptian politician next to him stated, pulling the country from his thoughts. He told him to vote against it. But he knew it would pass. It had to, if anything were to get done.
He was already done with this though.
When he looked up, he could not help but spot America, who was looking back at him. It seemed he was not the only one who did not want to talk about this issue.
And as he knew would happened, it passed, and the large room was filled with the chorus of politicians and nations alike speaking loudly to be heard above all the rest. Alliances, rivalries, preset ideals and stubbornness would all come to a head, and before Egypt could even wonder who he wanted to talk to, if anyone, they had already come to him. Many of his fellow Arabian nations gathered around him, some looking to him with concern in their eyes while others looked ready to battle it out on the floor. Syria was by his side in an instant, asking what they were supposed to do. They both had been a common destination for the detainees, and Syria feared they would feel the brunt of the debate. Lebanon nodded worriedly, but Jordan slammed his fist down claiming they simply could not just lie down and take it. It wasn’t their fault people were brought there, was it? They all chattered around him, but Egypt still kept to himself, thumbing his papers as he listened.
That was when he was approached by other nations. They would smile at him, and ask casually what his opinion on the matter was. Even if they acted friendly and casual, Egypt knew they only wanted to talk to him because he was a big player in the problem. His name was an important one. They wanted him on their side.
So finally he stood, and entered the game of the Legal Council. It had surprised people at first when he would speak so fluently and easily at the first few debates that he spoke in. True, he wasn’t one for talking much, Egypt knew that well and had no qualms with it. But when necessary, he could speak rather eloquently, or so he was told.
Today he told them that as a country that was involved with this issue, he wanted to make it clear that they should not be attacked for it. There was no point in lying, they all knew that, but he mentioned it anyway, if only to make himself seem more truthful. The irony hurt him. He admitted to having taken suspects from other countries, but that the ones at fault were not himself and nations like himself – he waved his hands out towards the Arabian nations standing in the circle. No, it was the larger, richer nations who pushed their suspects onto them with promises of money if they could force a confession from them who were to blame.
The words were supposed to sound heartfelt, but Egypt only felt like a radio playing a recording.
Some small little nation who he could not see in the crowd asked if that meant he felt there should be no punishment for torture. Egypt moved a bit to see the small face of Sealand. He almost wanted to reach out and slap the obnoxious child; there were more prisoners rotting away in a single cell in his country than there were people who would even admit to be Sealandian. What place does the child have in this debate? What right did he have to ask questions?
But, he supposed, as he prepared his answer, he was just a child, and one who had not been raised correctly. He didn’t have a mother and father to raise him in the proper family environment, so it was no surprise he was unruly. While it would not be fair to blame any one – even England, who in his own way served as a parental guardian – as the nations did not have children or parents in the same context as humans, he still felt that if they could marry and raise children in that environment as they should be, perhaps the nations would all get along so much better.
It was a ridiculous thought, even he could admit that. But nonetheless he believed it to be true.
Deciding not to treat the boy like a child in the situation, as it would no doubt agitate him, Egypt explained that he didn’t believe they should be punished. They were merely victims, as it were, and punishment would only create harsher conditions that would push them to even more terrible means to gain the valuable sources they needed to survive. Syria nodded vigorously behind him, while Jordan merely muttered under his breath.
“Well then, what do you suggest we do about the big bad superpowers then?” Egypt turned to look at Turkey, who had long ago opted out of his traditional garb for a suit. Pity, Egypt thought. He much preferred the man in his long, flowing robes. There was something elegant and regal about him, back in his days of power. Now though, he was moving to join the rest of the world. He had done better than Egypt. But Egypt still had his heritage.
Though he had to admit, even after all these years, the man’s grin was still the same; arrogant, condescending, and breathtaking.
Egypt swallowed with a touch more difficulty, but simply replied that he felt that there should be specified definitions first off, and with those they could bring up the countries that have initiated extraordinary rendition. With laws and deterrents in place, they could stop it there.
There were more questions then, and Egypt found himself repeating different parts of his speech over and over as new nations walked up and would ask the same questions. Over and over it was the same, and now he felt like a broken record.
Finally the caucus ended, and they had moved back into speeches. Story after story, case after case, everyone stated what had been already stated.
But it would change soon as a flurry of notes was flown about the room, handed to and from the pages that jogged around the large room. Propositions were being started; that much Egypt knew was coming. And from the notes he received and finally speeches hinting at the speakers own ideas, the ideas were beginning to finalize.
One group had the idea of legalizing the act, and then regulating it, believing it had a place, but it had to be done in a way that doesn’t involve torture. Egypt sighed and pushed this one to the side; it was ridiculous. The whole reasoning behind the act was to move the prisoners to a place where they would be able to use stricter interrogation techniques. Even if you legalized it, the nations would bypass the regulations by working through other not so legalized groups. It was simple. They wanted torture, and they would find a way to get it.
The next was something about how nations that torture had to be punished for what they had done to the prisoners, and that that would solve the issue. Hardly, Egypt almost laughed to himself. When you want to stop the flow of a river, you don’t try to push back the water at the bottom of the river and expect the whole thing to just stop.
Of course, that was avoiding the whole fact that obviously Egypt did not appreciate someone blaming him.
The third was one that like-minded nations were working on, which was pushing for stopping it at the source. But there were still little details that Egypt found aggravating in it.
Simply put, as per usual, nothing of worth was being created. So he did not pay it much mind.
The man Italy had brought up had been released eventually. He was not sent back to Italy however, and was warned to not contact anyone there. Being the fool that he was, he called his wife and some friend, and for those months did not explicitly give any details, but he didn’t exactly hide it either. He was imprisoned again, and this time it was far worse than before.
Electrodes were more common, and the beatings more intense.
Once, while Egypt came for a quick inspection of his darker side – as any nations does, as there had never been a nation Egypt met in his long history that didn’t have a darker, hideous side – he found his stomach do a small, but disgusting, flip as he watched his people force some large metal rod into his rectum. The man was screaming in pain.
He never was able to become immune to watching a man being assaulted like that. Eventually, as the men moved to rape him themselves and tears cascaded down the captives cheeks, Egypt simply had to leave.
Every nation had a darker side, but every nation also had a part of themselves that they desperately wished they could rip to small pieces, throw upon the floor and burn, all the while screaming it wasn’t them, never was a part of them, never would be a part of them. Never.
The man was never able to return to Italy, so far as Egypt knew. He had been released, as he had no information, but he stayed in the country, never leaving. Egypt was sure he had probably been forbidden from leaving, but as he didn’t handle any of the cases personally, he didn’t need to know the information and never searched it out. He did see the man walking through the streets once however; he had been handicapped by the experience, and walked awkwardly.
While Egypt never told anyone, that day he ran to an alleyway and vomited his lunch.
America never acted awkwardly around him; even that very day, when he came back to the capital building and met with the larger man, America was smiling, his white teeth glistening almost as brightly as his sky-blue eyes. Egypt always found him to be outstandingly handsome, but also a bit frightening at times. At summits with other nations, he was kind, funny, a bit brash, but still likeable.
When he came to him in his home with secret files under his arms, his smile became more feral; his normally brilliant teeth shone brighter, harsher, sharper. Egypt couldn’t help but think that if Ammit wasn’t Egyptian, America could have been her human incarnate.
But he understood.
Here – between America and himself – this was their dark side.
Today however, as Egypt prepared himself for a bombardment of propositions as another informal caucus was soon to be voted on, America was not that devourer of sinners. Today, as he finally had his turn on the podium, he was a man who had been caught in his sins, but would not back down from them. He started off strong, explaining, and ultimately justifying, the actions he and his bosses had taken. It was for protection; it was for finding information they needed in their war against terrorism that he liked to speak of so often; it was for saving, though whether saving individual lives or saving the world, it was hard to tell from his speech. For a moment, he did play the victim. It had been the countries they worked with who broke the rules; papers and promises about behavior had been made and signed, and then later ignored.
Egypt recalled each and every one of those papers. They had hardly been considered promises. If there were promises, it wasn’t in the papers. They were in the words that wafted into Egypt’s ear; the glint of that sinister smile; that hand as it reached out, grabbing and pulling him in to be tasted, devoured. In that room promises were passed with bodies, not those flimsy pieces of paper.
That image of victimization that America brought to the stage was brief however, and quickly the memory of it was smothered with strong words and convictions. America did not believe in torture; he did not torture people. He would however defend his country from terrorists. This was what America believed, and he wanted everyone to know.
Egypt noticed by the end that while extraordinary rendition had been alluded to, the nation never said the words.
He also noticed as the man walked away from the stand that his hands were fisted at his sides, and his shoulders rose and fell with heavy breath. America was tense. They were both ready for this game to end.
As he thought this, the bright blue eyes settled on him, and Egypt was caught in them. America gestured slightly toward one of the corners of the room. The Arab nodded.
When the vote came and the informal caucus began, Egypt nodded to the Egyptian politician next to him before making his way through the crowd. Some nations and diplomats tried to stop him, but he kept moving, telling them to speak with his representative. He passed Turkey on the way, and tried his hardest to act normally around the nation. Turkey cocked an eyebrow at him, but clapped him on the shoulder before they went their own ways. Egypt couldn’t help but stop for a moment, turning and watching the large man walk away, hands stuffed into the pockets of his spotless suit.
He always seemed so sure of himself. Egypt wished he had left some of that confidence behind when they eventually went their separate ways to fill the wound that still scabbed over from time to time.
Independence was his, but sometimes it didn’t seem that way. It almost seemed easier when he knew for sure it wasn’t his than to fight so hard only to ruminate over it as he slid into bed.
Now he moved again, headed straight for the where he now saw America, arms crossed and leaned against the wall. He was pinching the bridge of his nose. It amazed Egypt how similar he was to England sometimes. He would never say it aloud, but it was obvious to anyone who knew the two.
America removed the hand as Egypt approached, and smiled more out of habit than desire. It wasn’t returned.
“So, what are you doing?” Vague and still precise. Egypt almost wanted to smile himself now. He also wanted to reach out and shake the American. The reason escaped him for both. So instead he did not make any movement.
“Stopping it at the source. Italy’s might be promising. Or Zimbabwe’s.”
“Pff. What does Zimbabwe care?” America asked, not really requesting a response. He sighed, pushed his bangs back, and then glanced back up into Egypt’s dark eyes.
This was not America, the Ammit incarnate. This was America, the teenager caught in something he knew he shouldn’t do and now trying to find a way out. His young age was showing. Egypt felt superior, for just that moment.
“So… we’re not going to end up on the same side, are we?”
“No. Unless we compromise by choosing France’s plan,” Egypt replied, closing his eyes and sighing. He was tired, and it was freezing cold in the building, and all he wanted was to be able to sit by a window at home, resting in the shade as heat radiated from around him, cradling him. America’s laugh pulled him from his dream.
“Yeah, right. No way. It’s a bunch of bullshit anyway.” America sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “No biggie. You work with Zimbabwe. I’ll continue talking with Germany about his idea. Maybe sponsor that one, look like I care.” Egypt nodded, and he noted the way America laughed warmly. He was looking at him, the Arab nation knew it, could feel it on his skin. Briefly, Egypt mused on whether America would have embraced him by now had they not been surrounded by other nations, or if this America was not like his darker side and wouldn’t waste him time on such trifles.
And then he was near him, hands still tucked away in pockets and yet still he seemed to surround the smaller nation. Egypt didn’t lift his gaze. America’s hot breath drifted past his ear.
“Course, none of this matters. Nothing will be done in the end. Give it a couple months for talk to die down, and then I’ll be back, and you’ll be waiting, right?” Egypt shuddered and his mouth tightened. He dared the slightest of glances up to America’s face.
There he faced a toothy grin better suited on a crocodile.
As America patted him on the shoulder and rejoined the caucus, Egypt wanted to shudder, and not for the cold.
He placed a finger to his lips, and found a smile on his own face. Dark. Sinister
Trembling. Egypt could feel himself trembling as he considered laughing and crying all at once. He did not even start when Turkey placed an unsure hand on his shoulder from behind. “Egypt? If you’re done, Syria and Italy want to discuss their proposition… hey, you ok?”
Egypt did not reply, did not move, and really could not even think about reacting. The larger nation moved to face him. His brows furrowed.
A terrible grin and raging tears.
“Egypt…” Turkey started, but he was unsure of where to go from there. Who possibly could? They all knew it; they would all experience many times in their life. There were simply no words for it.
For Egypt however, there was a word for it. As he felt his stomach twist and his muscles tighten and his very soul threatening to rip itself away from the disgusting excuse of a being it possessed, and as he seriously considered digging his fingers into his face and shredding the twisted smile away, skin and all, and even as he considered throwing himself into the others arms and begging for comfort, for a way forget this demonic outburst, one word seared itself into his mind.
He knew then and there, as Turkey held him awkwardly, that the darkness that every nation held inside had a name and a face.
Ammit.
Devourer of millions.
The caucus ended, and Egypt pulled away from the sympathetic nation, nodding to him woodenly before wondering dazedly to his seat. As he did, Sealand ran past him. The boy’s innocence only hurt him more.
The chair called for the end of the caucus.
Abu Omar. That was the man from Italy’s name. Abu Omar.
It was simply what they did.
Egypt sat quietly, but inside he screamed.
HISTORY NOTES (warning, there's a lot):
1. Extraordinary rendition as defined by wiki: the apprehension and extrajudicial transfer of a person from one state to another. What's this mean? Basically, like in Abu Omar's story, one country pulls someone from another country and puts them in another country to be dealt with. This is usually to avoid the regulations of the main country, so it usually ends up being countries that "don't torture" sending their detainees to countries that are known for it. Aka Egypt and others. Yeah. Fun.
2. Ok, so, the UN. Assuming it runs similarily to MUN, which one would assume it does since MUN is, you know, based off of it, it's a meeting of representatives from different nations who pass stuff. To keep it simple, there are different branches, this one being legal, and in the UN there's a certain set up and regulations. Usually nations sign up on a speaker's list and speak in that order for a set amount of time. Informal Caucus is when diplomats wonder around talking, well, informally and this is really where all the action happens. Note passing is obviously where notes are passed around. For the record, it's totally possible that notes are now done electronically, I don't know. But for this fic, they're pen and paper notes. Basically the substitute for the meat of the debate when they aren't in informal caucus. Propositions are the, well, propositions of how to address the issue being discussed. Finally, deligates vote for stuff like entering informal caucus or formal caucus or, well, lots of stuff. To be honest, that's about all you absolutely have to know to understand, though it will make more sense for those who have done MUN or understand how UN runs.
Big point: UN is weird and speeches don't really matter. The action is all in the private discussions. It's all ONE BIG POLITICAL GAME.
.....yes, I may have been a bit disenchanted with UN after MUN. Why do you ask?
OH, right, and as for the whole "present" versus "present and voting" thing, basically you say from the start whether you are guarenteeing that you will vote on everything (thus voting) or if you will abstain when you want to (thus just present). Yeah.
3. This fic is focused mostly on Egypt and the U.S., as they're the main players. Other countries do this too, like Syria and stuff, but Egypt is the most common place for them to be sent I believe, and the U.S. definitely sends people around the most.
4. The whole Sealand and family thing is just me playing with how Egypt is like, 90% Muslim or something, and I learned about the whole focus on family and stuff. Cause I researched Cloning, not rendition. My partner learned that stuff, thus why I had to reresearch for the fic.
5. Ammit is like this kinda-Goddess who was basically this crocodile/lion/hippo hybrid that ate the souls of those deemed unworthy of the Egyptian equivilant of heaven, or so it seems. I don't know much more than what wiki tells me. Sorry. But yeah, devourer of hearts and stuff. It should be noted she's not really a Goddess because she just basically eats souls given to her. Also, she's the epitome of fear for the Egyptians. Even in her physical appearance, she's a combination of the most feared animals in Egypt. So yeah. SCARY, EATER OF SOULS.
6. As for the big political talk of America's, it's based mostly on the previous administrations politics. Sorry, I know we have a new guy, but fact is I grew up with Bush (sadly) and I am better acquainted with that argument than Obama's. I... have no idea how I'd write that. Still getting a handle on the new policies.
7. Yeah, Abu Omar is just one example of a dude who was pulled by the U.S. from Italy and sent to Egypt cause they thought he knew terrorist stuff. Yeah. You can look it up if you want. Warning though, it's hard to read some of it. It's funny how in yaoi, n/c isn't that big a deal, and yet for me to read about a real man really being raped... just seems so incredibly horrible. I dunno. I just know it makes me sick to my stomach.
AUTHOR NOTES:
Yeah, this is really the spawn of doing MUN. I was with my friend, in the Legal Committee, representing Egypt, debating Extraordinary Rendition (and later cloning). Yeah. Can you see where this came from? So I took it and played with it in Hetalia. Cause Egypt isn't a country that's played with, and even when he isn't not his darker side. So yeah. There you go.