#countryhumans world peace au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

weirdestbooks · 29 days ago

Text

The Weapon and the Spy (Prologue)

Prologue (America) (Wattpad | Ao3)

Table of Contents | Next

Thank you to @jmysty4 for letting me write her wonderful countryhumans x 1984 AU.

America owed Oceania everything for what they had done for him since the Second World War. They had provided him with security, safety, and peace of mind as the world seemed to fall apart further.

Especially with what the USSR had been doing.

The USSR’s invasion of Europe had been anxiety-inducing for America, as more countries struggled to fight him back, and the forces of Oceania’s organization struggled to protect their own.

Every time Oceania came to visit, they came with more bad news, and sometimes it felt as if the USSR’s power was overwhelming, so strong that nothing could stop it. Then Oceania would promise victories and provide them, giving America a sense of relief.

America wished he could do more, but Oceania told him that it was their business, their problem and that America shouldn’t fight when he was so anxious and scared.

A small part of America knew they were right. He…he didn’t feel this way during the Second World War, but he did now. Oceania told him it was because the USSR had nukes. America couldn’t think of anything that could prove the organization wrong.

America hated it.

He had his people to look after, his states to look after, and he seemed paralyzed by terror whenever he thought of fighting.

So he was so grateful to Oceania, who fought for America and prevented him from being such a failure.

America should have remembered that even great people like Oceania could be scared.

“The USSR has attacked your father with nuclear weapons,” Oceania said, worry on their face as they entered America’s home one dreary morning. America felt his heart plummet, fear flooding his body.

The USSR had used nukes against them. All of America’s worst fears had been realized.

Before he even realized what was happening, America was on the floor, gasping for air as panic flooded his body in a way it never had before. He felt light-headed; the only thing keeping him from panicking further was the solid weight of Oceania’s hand on his back.

“You’re okay. Just breathe,” Oceania said, their voice calm. America wanted to believe them; he really did. He had faith in Oceania to find a solution like they always had; he had faith in Oceania to figure out how to fix this because Oceania had never failed him before, and America trusted them with his entire being, but the panic refused to listen to logic.

Eventually, his breathing calmed.

“Are you better now?” Oceania asked. America knew they were trying to be gentle, but some annoyance still crept into their voice.

“I am. I’m…I’m sorry. I just…I had prayed and hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” America said, trying to give Oceania a reassuring smile.

“I had hoped for that too. But since it now has, that means we need to take…measures I didn’t want to take before in order to protect ourselves. Just because the USSR has powerful weapons doesn’t make us powerless,” Oceania said, their voice reassuring America and subsiding the panic.

Oceania was right. They knew what they were doing, and they had never let America down before.

“What is it? I will be happy to help in any way I can,” America said. He knew his fear and cowardice had made him a pretty useless ally recently, but these were nukes, and it was his father.

America had to do something.

“Are you sure? I don’t expect you to fight, knowing…well, knowing…” Oceania cleared their throat, clearly not wanting to make any rude comments towards America. America appreciated the thought, but Oceania didn’t need to pretend.

“If he attacked my father with nukes, then he might attack my siblings and children too. I can’t lose them, Oceania. They’re everything to me,” America explained, voice breaking slightly. Oceania nodded.

“Then, would you be interested in becoming a weapon for me?” Oceania asked, tilting their head to the side.

“Oh, hell no! I’ll be willing to help, but that’s too far!” America said, leaping up with gritted teeth. Had Oceania lost his mind? America wasn’t some thing, some object for Oceania to make into a ‘weapon’! He was a person!

And besides…he was too much a coward to be good at fighting. Oceania had to know that. America…he could do something else. Logistics. Planning. Things that didn’t require him to fight.

If the war with the USSR had proven anything, the longer a war went on, the bigger of a coward he became.

“Of course not. It’s just a suggestion. But…don’t you want to protect your states from the other countries? They want to kill them, destroy them, and I cannot be everywhere at once. But if you let me help you, I can train you into a weapon that no one would dare cross and prevent them from ever attacking your states,” Oceania said. Their words soothed the anxiety and paranoia raging in America’s chest, a temporary balm to his fears.

His mind seemed to cloud over slightly as he thought about Oceania’s offer. Would it not be better for his states to have someone strong to protect them? Would it not be better to stop being fearful and instead take action to prevent it?

“You know this is the best way to help me. I can’t do this without you,” Oceania said, something strange in their voice. America’s mind clouded a bit more, and he opened his mouth and began replying before he could even think.

“Yes, it is. I’ll do it,” he answered. Oceania was right. They were always right. Why had America been so hesitant? All Oceania had ever been was helpful before, so why did America doubt him now? If Oceania said this was the solution, then it was the solution.

“Wonderful! Do you wish to start now?” Oceania asked. America nodded. If the USSR was getting powerful now, then he needed to start now. Otherwise, his cowardice would keep him paralyzed.

His head still felt clouded, but with Oceania’s hand on his back, everything still made perfect sense.

Oceania knew what was best.

America just had to trust him.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

America didn’t know what to expect when Oceania took him away for training. The organization had been tight-lipped about where they were going, saying that it was better to keep it secret in case of spies.

The answer made sense, and America couldn’t think of any other reason why Oceania would hide the location from him, so America kept his mouth shut.

There was no need to question them when they were just trying to help.

When they finally arrived, Oceania had patted America on the cheek, introducing him to the soldiers who were going to be helping him. America was being given a private room, as he was a country, and overall, it was a very pleasant introduction.

America was still nervous about the idea of fighting.

Oceania and America had talked about it a little before Oceania had to go, busy dealing with so many other countries and problems. While Oceania had told America that his family would be unable to contact him in order to keep America’s location protected, Oceania had offered to run messages when they were able to.

America was proud to have them as a friend. They thought of everything.

America was quickly kept busy. He knew that the threat of the USSR was close; he had nightmares about it on a daily basis, but the men in charge of training him were determined to work America to death about the issue.

There were no breaks, no free time, just training, sleep, and food.

America felt miserable about it. It was exhausting. The only thing that kept him going was reminding himself of who it was for.

This was for his children, his siblings, his father, for everything currently under threat of nuclear weapons.

He was doing this for them. He hoped they were okay. Sometimes, in the few minutes between going to bed and being embraced by sleep, he would think about them, wondering if they were okay.

Oceania also banned any news from entering the training compound America was in. They were so paranoid about another attack, and as much as America wanted news, he knew this was just Oceania’s way of trying to protect him.

It didn’t stop it from being nerve-wracking.

At least the training kept his mind busy. America wasn’t given a minute of time to worry or speculate, jumping from one thing to the next in an orderly fashion. The schedule never changed; the same thing day after day.

Even though America had become used to the schedule, there were still rules he was struggling to follow.

The worst was how he wasn’t allowed to do anything without permission. He knew that the military needed order and that soldiers needed to learn how to obey their superiors, but in prior wars, America hadn’t been subjected to as heavy a regime as he was now.

If he woke before the day was supposed to begin, he was expected to stay in bed until one of the commanders officially woke him up. He only was allowed to eat when he was told to. It was a hit to his pride, but he needed to do this.

This was for his family. They needed him to be able to protect him.

And he needed to not be such a coward.

If he broke them, the punishments wouldn't be that bad; it would just be a reprimand for all the things America was already worried about.

“War is imminent, and we can’t risk any mistakes in the arm, so we need obedience.”

“Your people are in danger, and this is the quickest way to help them and ensure you are trained as fast as you can be. Your protests and refusal to obey just make things worse.”

America has learned by now to swallow his pride. It wasn’t that bad. The order of the boot camp was…good for his anxiety. It gave him a sense of stability he had lost a long time before.

He was just being paranoid about things. He was letting his fears about the USSR make him afraid of the people who were just looking out for him.

This was in the best interest of his country—the best interest of his people.

This was going to help. Oceania said this was a good idea, so America trusted that it was, no matter how…strange or odd some of the decisions seemed to be.

So, America let go of his paranoia and fears, and the strange feeling in the back of his head seemed to go away. It was less stressful to not think about any (unrealistic) implications of the training regime.

It was order, and it was comfortable to have that order.

America was going to be a good soldier.

Then, his people wouldn’t have to fear the USSR ever again. There would be peace, and life could resume. He trusted that Oceania had a plan, that Oceania knew what they were doing.

So America played his part.

It would all end well in the end.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

America hadn’t been informed about Oceania’s visit. He had been walking to the dining hall, silently following his commander (because good soldiers only spoke when spoken to, and America needed to be a good soldier. It’s not like he had anything to talk about) when Oceania had appeared beside him, a worried look on their face.

America opened his mouth to greet them before shutting it, looking back at the commander. He didn’t know if he would get in trouble since Oceania was here, but it was better to check anyway.

“I need to borrow him if you don’t mind,” Oceania said. The commander saluted and nodded before turning to America.

“Go with Oceania,” he ordered. America nearly rolled his eyes at that. He wasn't an idiot. Obviously, if Oceania needed him and the commander respected Oceania’s order, then America was meant to go with him.

Although…maybe he just wanted to reassure America and ensure that America wouldn’t face any punishment for following Oceania.

America appreciated the thought. A break would be nice. His muscles were sore constantly nowadays, although America took it as proof that he was getting better and soon would be someone his states could be proud of, someone who could protect them.

Oceania gestured for America to follow them, and America did, and despite his burning curiosity about any news of his states, of the world outside of his camp, he kept his mouth shut. Good soldiers spoke only when spoken to, after all, and America trusted that Oceania would tell him.

And a small part of him really wanted to impress Oceania, to show them how far he had come from the cowardly little country he had been.

They walked into America’s room and stopped as America resisted the urge to nervously rub at his arm. He didn’t want to appear nervous in front of Oceania. His nervousness was what they were trying to fix.

“I am sure you are eager to hear what I have to say,” Oceania said. America nodded, hesitantly opening his mouth to speak.

“I am. I have tried not to think about my fears, but they still plague me at times,” America answered. Oceania nodded, and America relaxed, not even realizing he had tensed, grateful for the confirmation that he did indeed have permission to speak.

“You are right to feel some fear. It motivates you to do what you can to overcome it,” Oceanis said, “But I come here with news, not to talk about you.”

America nodded, feeling slightly chastised. He didn’t know why he wanted Oceania to be proud of him, but he did. Maybe it was because he was far away from the war, and while the other member states were proving themselves in combat, America was cowering an ocean away.

“I’m sorry,” America said, not knowing what else to say.

“The USSR is now calling himself Eurasia,” Oceania began, causing America to wrinkle his nose in disgust. Of course, he was. That bastard was egotistical to claim to be two entire continents. “There have been a few more nuclear attacks on Ai—on Britain, and…things could be better.”

Against his will, America’s fears began creeping back into his head, visions of his family being brutally murdered one by one in the US—in Eurasia’s bloody conflicts.

“Relax. I have a plan. We have also used nukes against Eurasia, and we are at a standstill right now,” Oceania said, “And your states are okay. I have ensured they all have safehouses to stay in so they are protected. I am using all of my power. But I can’t do this alone. I am stretched too thin. I need your help. You need to train faster and improve as fast as possible so I can use your help to break this standstill.”

America swallowed down bile in his throat.

“I can try. But…are you sure I’ll really make that much of a difference?” America asked. He didn’t want to let his family down, Oceania down, but he…he couldn’t be that important to the war. He was just one man.

“Of course you can. You’re better than any normal soldier due to your abilities, of course,” Oceania said. America felt a pit sink into his stomach.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“Well, I mean, your healing. You can heal so quickly and take hits that no one else can. Do you realize how many lives you can save?” Oceania pointed out. America shook his head.

“I…I…I can only be pushed so far. Everything has a limit—even that. I know…I understand where you are coming from, and to a level, I agree with you, but I can’t rush in blindly and hope that my regeneration will be enough,” America explained. Oceania frowned, an expression that America had rarely seen on their face.

“I didn’t take you for a selfish man, not with who you are doing this for,” Oceania said, something bitter, something angry in his voice. America recoiled, lip curling into a snarl.

“Excuse me?” he asked. Oceania met his eyes again, and when they spoke next, there was a heavy weight to their voice.

“Isn’t it better to fight without hesitation when you can recover as fast as you can? It’s selfish to think that you need to be protected when you can heal faster than any of your states. You should be better than that. I thought you would be. You always seemed more selfless before,” Oceania said, their tone biting. America swayed slightly, blinking through his suddenly clouded mind.

“I…I…” America struggled to find words to defend himself. Was…was that really selfish? He thought that was better, saving it for when it was really needed. “I thought it would be better to preserve it for when it is needed most.”

Oceania shook their head, a disappointed look on their face.

“That’s something you can’t just preserve for later!” Oceania said, voice warping slightly in their anger. Oceania cleared their throat before sighing, “I don’t mean to get upset. I am just very worried about everyone, and I was grateful I could count on you to help me, but learning that you don’t want to for selfish reasons is just…I’m disappointed.”

America looked away, feeling guilt and shame well up within him. His head felt cloudy, and he couldn’t think of anything that would prove Oceania wrong. He wanted to help. He really did.

“I want to help. I do. I just…I never thought of it that way,” America said. Did his states think he was selfish? Or was this more proof he really was a coward, having the power to recover from all types of wounds and still hiding from war?

No wonder Oceania wanted him more involved.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure that now that you have realized how bad that kind of thinking is, you can move past it. I can have them implement that into your training, making you less hesitant and selfish,” Oceania suggested. America nodded before wincing as that action seemed to make the cloudiness in his brain hurt more.

“That sounds like a great idea, Oceania,” America said. Oceania smiled.

“I’m glad. I guess I was too harsh on you. It must be the stress. You’re always willing to improve when you have your flaws pointed out to you,” Oceania said. “I have one more thing I need to ask of you.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know how your training has been done so far, but you need to prioritize being more ruthless than the norm,” Oceanis said, walking over to stand by America. America wanted to protest that idea, but the cloud in his mind made it hard to get out much more than a small “why?”

“They aren’t showing mercy, so why should you show them mercy? Ruthlessness isn’t wrong if it’s what is needed to win,” Oceania said, a gentle hand on America’s back. The cloudiness of his mind was so thick it was hard to think clearly. America nodded.

“You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. My brain is…foggy, I think I must be ill or something to be so irritable and foolish,” America said with a small laugh.

“Well then, I’ll tell them to give you the rest of the day off so you can recover. It’ll give them time to adjust your regime,” Oceania said, gently guiding America to the bed, where he sat down, head spinning from the action.

“That sounds great. Thank you, Oceania. I mean it. Give my states my love.”

“Of course,” Oceania said, and with those final words, they glided out of the room.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

America had long since lost track of how long he had been here. Every day felt the same, one blurring into another into another. Oceania had visited a few more times, each time pressing America more to finish his training faster, that they were worried about the states, about his father.

America gave it everything he had.

It was all he had.

Oceania had been dropping off newspapers as well. Some of the papers America didn't recognize, as Oceania explained how some newspapers had shut down due to the war, causing others to spring up in their place. America was still alone, but at least he still got news.

Well, newspapers. He wasn’t exactly given time to read them. He didn’t need to read them, though; the commanders did, and they gave America plenty of reminders as to what was at stake.

War was already in Oceania, and war was coming for his land. He needed to be ready to protect everyone. It was on him; Oceania needed him, and his states needed him.

The pressure on him was immense.

The training seemed to get harsher every day, as America seemed to make more mistakes than he did before. The punishments for doing anything without permission seemed to grow stricter as the commanders began to put a greater emphasis on obedience.

“Armies are more effective when they are not made up of individual people, but rather when they are one mass that is obedient to their commander,” they explained. America was told this often. Although he was training without an army, he needed to learn how to be another face in the crowd.

It was important that he learn to be obedient to his commanders.

Not only that, sometimes they would tell America to do things without telling him why, and he was expected to do them without hesitation or further explanation. If he failed during one of those exercises, he was made to watch some stupid movie about the importance of obedience and overcoming hesitation.

It was all part of the training to help him be less selfish, more decisive, they explained.

America guessed it was working. Each time, it became easier to do what they said without thinking too much about it. America didn’t feel more decisive, though, just…quieter.

But that had to be a good thing, with how the commanders had been commenting on how far America had come and how he was going to be a good soldier. America was happy about that. He was improving. He would be able to protect his states.

All fi…all of them. America shook the fuzziness from his head, refocusing on his task.

If this was what was needed to protect them, then America would throw himself into it wholeheartedly. It didn’t matter what methods they used here. What mattered was that America would be a good soldier that could protect them.

His pride didn’t matter when it came to that. Nothing was more important to America than protecting them.

America would be a good soldier. For his states.

No matter how harsh the training got, this was for the greater good. America understood that, and he trusted Oceania to take care of them until he was ready.

America just hoped he was ready soon. He felt anxious, not fully knowing what was happening to his states, and he would give anything to be ready so he could ensure they were safe.

Although, based on the way the commanders had begun to talk, that moment would be coming soon.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

America didn’t find out Oceania had arrived until they walked in on one of his lessons. America had been using a knife to rip apart a dummy with brutal efficiency, something he had long grown used to and did almost subconsciously.

A lot of the things he did here he did without thinking.

But the odd thing was that Oceania didn’t talk to him, didn’t even greet him, instead turning to the commander as America continued running through the brutal motions.

“How soon will it be ready?” Oceania asked. It? What were they talking about? America couldn’t help his curiosity, even though he knew it was probably rude to eavesdrop. Then again, Oceania was talking about it right in front of America, so clearly, it wasn’t that secret.

“Soon,” the commander said, and America watched out of the corner of his eye as the commander nervously looked at him before whispering something to Oceania. Oceania frowned.

“Stop!” They then said, and figuring they were referring to him, America stopped what he was doing and pulled away, fighting down the instinct to salute Oceania as he turned to face them. Oceania then stepped towards America before they grabbed his chin, forcing America to look them in the eyes.

It was a rough movement, one that America was not expecting, but he forced down the urge to pull away or say something. He trusted Oceania. Oceania was doing this for a reason. It didn’t matter that it was humiliating and something America normally would have never allowed. America had to trust Oceania.

He didn’t want to be punished for disobedience.

Oceania moved America’s chin around a few more times before releasing it, stepping back. America could still feel where their fingers had tightly gripped his chin, and he opened his mouth to move his jaw around to shake off the feeling.

“Close it!” Oceania ordered, and America's jaw was shut before he could even think. Oceania then turned back to the commander, and America stood as still as he could.

“So you say it is good at obedience and its purpose but has yet to fully understand what it is?” Oceania asked. The commander nodded, and America had a sinking feeling that he was the one they were referring to.

But he wasn’t an ‘it’. He was a person, a country, the United States of America. America almost opened his mouth to say something but found that he just couldn’t, as if something had sealed his lips shut.

He…he didn’t want to disobey, but…what Oceania was saying concerned him.

But it was Oceania, so there must be a logical reasoning behind it, right?

“Yes. We are hoping that with a stricter training regime, it will accept what it is,” the commander said. America fought to keep his face neutral as he tried to figure out what they were talking about. Surely it couldn’t be him, right? But…they were talking about a training regime. And the only person here who had that was America.

America was still frozen in position.

“I want it done now. Do whatever it takes to finish it, so long as you don’t break it,” Oceania ordered. “More than a stricter training regime. I can see how well that is working, but you have reached the end of its effectiveness.”

Oceania then leaned down and whispered something into the commander’s ear. The commander nodded as Oceania turned back to America.

“These next few weeks are going to be the most important in your life,” Oceania said, their voice full of the same heavy weight to it that America had heard in it so often before. “And it is imperative that you obey them and that you listen to them. Even if it makes you uncomfortable at first, just know this is for the greater good, and the sooner you help them by going along with what they tell you, the sooner your training will be over, and you can protect your states. Understood?”

America nodded, not sure if he had permission to speak, his mind feeling fuzzy. Oceania smiled.

“Good. I expect your training to be done when I return. If not…” Oceania trailed off, letting their words linger in the air as they turned to leave the room, giving one last order to the commander. “Start now.”

The commander nodded before turning to America.

“Come on. Follow me,” he said, and America followed him out of the room like the good little soldier he was. There was still an odd feeling in the back of his mind, but he was long past the point of no return.

America trusted Oceania. They promised this would be for the best.

So America trusted it would be.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

America was meant to become Oceania’s weapon.

It was a mantra that had been repeated to him again and again and again. The cameras around the facility were always blaring the message whenever America was training, serving as a permanent reminder of what he was meant to become.

He hated it at first. He didn’t say anything because he still wanted to be a good soldier, but he hated the message at first. It felt wrong.

But America has been the one in the wrong. The nightly videos he watched explained everything, talking America through all his doubts and fears and how silly it was to not want to be Oceania’s weapon.

America understood that it was silly to want to be just another soldier. The army had plenty of soldiers. His states had been protected by soldiers for the entire war. What Oceania and his states needed was a new weapon crafted to protect them and hunt down their enemies with brutal efficiency.

America was to be that weapon. He understood now. That was why it was okay for people to call him an ‘it’ or not call him by his name. He was still just a weapon at the end of the day. A weapon that didn’t need to feel emotion or think when it was being a weapon.

After all, what weapon thought?

Ever since he realized that, he had done better in his training.

Oceania’s weapon was efficient and it was brutal, and it would ensure that the states were protected.

It was still in training, though, because why have a good weapon when you can have a perfect one?

“Attack,” the commander said. Oceania’s weapon turned around, lashing out with the knife as it mutilated the dummy in front of it. It didn’t hesitate, ripping into the dummy again and again until the commander ordered it to stop.

Stepping back, the weapon realized that a picture had been attached to the dummy, a picture of Britain—the wea—America’s father.

“Very good, weapon. You weren’t even hesitant, even though the dummy had a picture of an ally on it. You just obeyed your orders,” the commander said. America nodded, feeling vaguely dazed. He didn’t hesitate. If that had been his real father, would America have ripped him apart, too?

He was…he didn’t want to hurt his family.

“Wipe that expression off your face. Weapons don’t show emotion, and weapons shouldn’t be thinking while fighting,” the commander said. America was quick to slide his face back into the empty expression that had become so comforting, “We wouldn’t actually make you attack him. We just needed to test how much faith you have in the people giving you orders.”

America relaxed. Of course, that was what it was. Oceania wanted America to protect his family. They wouldn’t really have him attack his family. They just needed a good weapon.

America was going to be that weapon.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

Oceania was very proud of how far their weapon had come when they came to retrieve it.

“You did a good job crafting it,” they said, as their weapon held out it’s arms for Oceania to inspect, “One could be forgiven for thinking that it had always been a weapon.”

“We’re glad it’s to your liking, sir,” one of the men said. Oceania dismissed him with a wave of their hand.

“There are still a few things that I need to fix up, but then, yes, I believe we have the perfect weapon here,” Oceania said, “Follow me, weapon. We’ll need privacy for this next bit.”

America let his hands fall to his side and followed Oceania out the door.

“What is my name?” they asked.

“Oceania,” America answered, his tone empty. He found it hard to express any emotion in his voice, something that was for the best anyway. Oceania clicked their tongue.

“Wrong. My name is Big Brother, and you will address me as such,” Oce—Big Brother said. America nodded.

“Now, what is your name?” Big Brother asked. America hesitated, unsure of how to answer that question. His name was America, of course, but he wasn’t sure if he should say that, considering he was training to be a weapon.

But it was the only name he had…

“Ame—”

“Wrong. You are a weapon. Weapons do not have names because they are not people. They do not have identities or anything like that. They are objects to be used and owned. You may have once been America, but you cannot be America if you want to be the weapon that ends the war. Only when war ends can you stop being a weapon and be a person. Now, what is your name?” Big Brother asked, their voice somehow squeezing its way into Ameri—into the weapon’s very being.

“I—I do not have a name because weapons do not have one,” the weapon said. Big Brother nodded.

“Better. Don’t worry. Soon, this will be second nature to you,” they said. “Now, to continue. Do you feel emotion?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because weapons cannot feel emotion.” the weapon answered. Big Brother smiled.

“Good. So if I see you expressing emotion?”

“That means I—”

“I?” Big Brother asked. Their weapon quickly corrected itself.

“That means the weapon is broken and needs to be repaired.”

“Good,” Big Brother purred, their voice blocking out everything in the weapon’s mind as it seemed to consume everything, “One last question before we finalize the other faults and enter you into service. Do weapons think?”

“No.” the weapon stated.

Big Brother’s smile widened.

───────── 𓁺 ─────────

Big Brother’s weapon still had a few flaws that needed to be worked out before it could be put into service. Big Brother wanted a quality weapon, meaning that they all needed to be worked out before it could begin it’s primary objective of protecting the states.

“The states are all in hiding due to the war and the fact that the weapon is not yet in service, so we must get it working as soon as possible,” Big Brother said, addressing the man who was meant to fix their weapon’s flaws.

“Of course. What do I need to do?” Big Brother then grabbed their weapon’s face, lifted it, and pointed to the mouth on it.

“I need the mouth sewed up. Weapons do not need to speak, so it is a useless feature that needs to be repaired, as it is impossible to remove it without damaging the rest of my weapon,” Big Brother said. The man nodded.

“Of course,” he said before preparing the supplies as Big Brother ordered their weapon onto a chair.

The man then approached the weapon, a needle in his hands, and Big Brother’s weapon froze to ensure that the repair went as smoothly as possible.

Big Brother’s weapon held still as the needle punctured it’s lip. The doctor’s assistant held his mouth shut as the sewing continued, practiced movements that made it’s mouth sting.

Big Brother’s weapon ignored it. Weapons don’t feel pain. This was being done to increase the efficiency of the weapon.

It stared ahead until the procedure was done, the last stitch tied off.

Big Brother dismissed the doctor before grabbing their weapon’s face, tilting it back and forth as they inspected the stitches.

“Yes, you’ll be a much better weapon now that we’ve gotten rid of that little flaw,” Big Brother said before releasing their weapon’s face, turning to leave the room. “Follow.”

Their weapon stood up, and obediently followed Big Brother.

#countryhumans #the weapon and the spy by weird #countryhumans america #countryhumans oceania #orwell 1984 #cage of eyes au

8 notes · View notes