Youth on the Plains

Youth on the Plains: Or, A 1983 Doomsday Tale through a Survivor-Nation's Eyes.

Somewhere outside Debrecen. 2000.

Today seems different, Janos thought quietly as he blocked another strike from his brother before attempting to land a blow at his right side, only to end up stumbling on the ground. It hurt definitely, but he was used to sweat and bruises like most boys his age. Then again, he wasn't like most boys nor as young as he pretended to be. But for some reason, something felt rather off. Like he's hiding something… Just thinking about it only made him all the more confused even as he tried to sit up. What the heck is it?!

"I've seen worse fights. But that's enough sparring," his more teenage-looking sibling said all of a sudden while he helped the kid up. The odd-looking fangs that seemed to attach themselves in front of the boy's mouth were visible for a second. "We're also skipping your firearms lessons for today. Besides, you'll need all the rest for the next couple days."

The boy was caught by surprise, though he was glad it didn't show through his panting. Transylvania normally didn't do something that obviously nice often. In fact, the sun was still high up. Something's definitely up! "What do you have this time, Vlad?"

"How many times do I have to say this?" the other boy sighed while dusting off his old Doomsday-era uniform. "First of all, don't call me that while in training! Second, your balance still needs work, so don't come running to me if some warlord knocks some sense into 'ya. And lastly…" he smirked. "While would I spoil the fun right away? But I'll give you a hint: it's something you and your people have been waiting for."

Janos grunted a little as he shrugged. Even though they were both far away from the rusted, makeshift barricades, he still could hear and sense the faint murmurs of firefights going on in the distance. It's not like he could really blame his "big brother." With all the upheavals going on in the Romanian wastes and the pressures on Transylvania's leaders, Vlad could only do so much. Then again, that fanged boy was not only the closest thing to a friend he's had but had also officially adopted him only some months ago. But if not for that fateful meeting 10 years earlier, what would have become of the people of Debrecen? Of me?

To be sure, the boy and his people have been able to hold their own up until now, even if only barely. But as much as he wanted to deny it, he still owed a lot to the older Survivor-Nation's at time off-handed help. Almost as much as he owed his very existence not merely to some stroke of luck that spared his city from the atomic fires. But to a country that built his city in the first place. One that as far as anyone knew, wasn't coming back anytime soon. Mother… He shook his head. Now wasn't the time to think of that. Besides, whatever was being kept away better be what he's been hoping for. In fact, it might be a good excuse to make use of that new name being passed around by his people. It has to be!

"Don't just stand there, you brat! This thing isn't going to wait forever!" He snapped back to find Transylvania impatiently waiting by a battered jeep, though the sibling's attempts at sounding rough still didn't quite sound as convincing. "Well, you wanna have something or not?!"

Better not worry too much about it right now. Debrecen sighed as he turned towards the car, smirking as he grabbed his spear and rifle. Against the breeze, it was one of those times when he was glad that his brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. "You bet I do!"

But as the young Survivor-Nation got on, however, he couldn't help but notice a strange looking bird flying overhead. He remembered a folk tale about what some among his people called a turul. He also, for a brief moment, thought he heard something else in the wind. But the roar of the vehicle brought him back to reality. Somehow, he had a feeling that the day wasn't quite over just yet.

--o--

"Are…Are you serious?!" Debrecen still couldn't quite believe what he was reading. Despite his usual confidence, he almost fell from his chair upon seeing what's on the bundle of papers, the text printed prominently in both his and Vlad's languages. You can't be… But even after going through it over and over, he found himself repeating the first words numbingly. "V-Védelem és szabadság..."

"Protecţie şi libertate," his brother finished for him with a cocky grin. "It won't be officially announced until tomorrow. And your own bosses won't get their formal documents before tonight. But I thought of showing you first." He blushed a little. "It's...it's just out of good will. Nothing more!"

Though Janos' eyes still remained fixed on the bundle, he could tell that the older kid's voice was sincere. Nonetheless, his frantic though still somewhat bony hands kept feeling the texture as if making  sure it was real.  "This soon..." he muttered, though more to himself. Granted, it didn't quite make him entirely happy, as it made him all but part of Transylvania as a protectorate. And yet the idea that he would not only be guaranteed independence but also recognized as a full-fledged Nation in his own right was enough for a wide smile to line his face. But as much as he'd like to boast about this moment, which he usually did in times like this, more comfortable thoughts suddenly crossed his mind. And then…

"If my mother were to see this now..." he mused wistfully only to realize what he had said aloud. Before the Survivor-Nation could think of a good apology, however, the rather self-serving smirk on Vlad's face was gone.

"Vă rog. Don't start with this again!" the dark-eyed teen sighed. "I thought we got over this by now! She's not coming back! Besides, what good did she ever do to us?!"

"How are you so sure?" Debrecen shot back out of impulse. "Anyway, what do you know about her that I don't?"

"What's there to find out? She's a damn Communist. A good-for-nothing Axis power! Oh, and before that, Austria's personal lapdog! It's all in the books! Trust me Janos, you're not missing much. Especially with the mess she and the rest of those jerks left behind with all those freaking bombs…"

The Survivor-Nation forced himself to listen as his brother kept on going. Though he's gotten used to hearing the same thing over and over, there was a good reason why he kept certain things about his past to himself. He couldn't quite remember anything earlier than those dark times following Doomsday, when the city guards found him huddled in an abandoned building. Yet somehow, he was sure that he had a mother. For reasons the boy couldn't explain, he knew bits and pieces about her land, people and history as though they too were his. He also knew that she's been looking after him in her own way. Even in my dreams… The least he could do is to live up to her legacy. After all, wasn't he also Magyar? A child of Hungary? Not that Vlad would believe any of that…

At some point, however, his brother had stopped talking about her and instead turned to pour a cup of warm water. But as he glanced away to the open window, however, the boy found a familiar turul sitting on the grimy porch. There seemed to be a small flower on its head. Though what caught him off guard were the words that came out of it.It was only faint enough for him to hear, but he knew that voice all too well. Soft, gentle, yet still defiant.

"Don't worry, my dear. You're never alone. I'll always be here…"

The next thing he knew, however, she was gone. Everything seemed quiet outside. It was also starting to snow. Still, he couldn't help but give a warm smile. "Köszönöm, anya..."

"Were you saying something?" Transylvania asked, his tone somewhat confused.

"It's nothing," Janos answered back, the grin still on his face. "Let's just say there's more to her than what you think, alright?"

"Whatever," his brother shrugged. "Believe what you want. Anyway, I hope you're happy with the news, Debrecen…"

"Well, you might have to start calling me by another name." The young Magyar's smirk widened as his fingers trailed down the the document towards a word that kept popping out in the text. His own people were also starting to use it more and more, which he could easily get used to. Besides, it had a good ring to it. "How does Partium sound to you?"