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Dixie stared at the blade of the gleaming knife.

How can he touch that.

It uh... May be the knife I stabbed Soviet with a while back-

You kept the knife you stabbed Soviet with IN THE KITCHEN!

He caught America's eye and gave him a glare, America gave him a wide eyed look.

So its a historical artifact then?

Yes.

Dixie cursed out loud.

The figure only chuckled. "You are coming with me."

"What if I don't wanna?" Dixie snorted. "Gonna poke me a few times?"

The Shadow didn't like his teasing. It scowled. Then raised its arm and threw the knife straight at Dixie's face.

Dixie dove out of the way just in time, the sharp object whizzing by his head and wedging itself in the door with a thunck.

Dixie tucked into a summer salt and rolled to soften his landing. The Shadow was already going for the knife again. But America beat it there.

"So this can hurt you right?" America twisted away from the Shadow's out reaching arms and lodged the knife in between where its two shoulder blades should be.

The Shadow howled, and it took Dixie a moment to realize it wasn't in pain but in frustration.

The figure yanked the knife out, only to throw it at Dixie again. He dove to the side, but it sliced through his shirt and some of his skin as it grazed the edge of his shoulder. He hit the ground hard.

Dixie reached for the blade, but the Shadow was already there, twisting it between its fingers. It jabbed the blade at him again, this time slicing his cheek before he could roll away.

The battle flag stumbled backward, clutching his bleeding face. America lunged for the figure, but it danced out of his reach, dangling the knife in a teasing way. America hit the wall and turned to find the black blood encrusted blade pressed against his throat.

With nothing to hold onto, the country grabbed the handle and blade, tried to push it away. He felt the stinging pain of blade cutting flesh, and let out an agonized cry as a black trail of his own plasma began to run down his arm.

"I could end you know!" the Shadow sneered, jerking the blade closer to the star spangled banner. "But that's not what I am here for. But why not cause a few wounds?"

"Is everything alright in here?" Alaska had entered, hearing the commotion.

"Alaska-" America choked out, feeling the weight against his throat lessen slightly.

The last frontier froze, his eyes wide as he processed what was going on. He had closed the door, but his hand was inching back towards the silver knob.

The figure hummed softly, then removed the knife from America's neck and threw it at Alaska with one stroke of his arm.

Everything happened in slow motion.

The knife's blade had landed in Alaska's chest. The state stumbled backward, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

"ALASKA!"

America was moving, but it wasn't fast enough. Alaska slumped against the door, clutching the knife's handle with a shaking hand.

America help his son in his arms. He pulled out the knife, throwing it to the ground. It landed with a clatter.

"I'm okay." Alaska wheezed, clutching the wound that was starting to bubble out blood. "J-just caught me off guard."

America looked behind him, rage pumping through his veins. But there was no one there. There was only the knife, laying forsaken on the floor, coated in his son's black blood.

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When Dixie woke up, he thought it was another dream. But it wasn't.

He groaned softly, moving his hand to feel the achy spot where he had been hit on the back of the head. But his motions were limited. Thick, solid metal bound his wrists. Chains.

Luckily he still had his cloth wrappings around his upper arm and lower palm. The weight of the chains was still uncomfortable, but it wasn't unbearable.

Dixie looked around at his surroundings. It was dark, dank, and smelled of dust. He appeared to be in some sort of abandoned space. There was no natural sun, but his eyes picked up flashes from the flickering ceiling lights. His eyes landed on the figure. It smiled.

"How did you touch me."

He replayed the events in his mind. Alaska had been stabbed, America ran to help. Dixie remembered turning to where he thought the figure was. To do something to make it pay for hurting his family. Then he was hit on the back of the head. But he remembered seeing the knife still in Alaska's chest. Another weapon he could touch, perhaps?

"Ah." it said, walking closer to Dixie. "I believe that's what you call a twist in the story." The shadow squatted down next to the battle flag. It grabbed his chin, the shadows cold fingers digging into Dixie's skin. "I could always touch you. Because you, Dixie, are an artifact. You belong in the past."

Dixie yanked his chin out of the grasp of the Shadow. It chuckled.

"So why didn't you just snatch me up in the middle of the night?" Dixie growled. "To lessen up on the trouble."

"Haven't you learned anything." the shadow rolled its strange eyes. "I enjoy unnerving you. Its fun for me. Seeing you toss and turn after the pistol incident. Watching America break down. That one was enjoyable." It had a look on its face. Like it was appreciating the good old times.

"So why did ya bring me here." Dixie continued to interrogate.

"I need your blood." The shadow shrugged, as if it wasn't new information. "It will make me corporeal. Manifest. How ever you want to think it." It leaned over and squeezed his wounded shoulder.

Dixie yelped as blood fountained out of the slash mark. The Shadow pulled its hand away, dripping with blood. "Now what to touch."

It began to wander, its legs passing through some scattered objects on the ground. Dixie blinked away tears as the Shadow reached up and grabbed a pipe. It bent the thing in half.

"Its so exhilarating." The Shadow remarked. "To be able to touch."

Dixie stayed quiet.

"You know, you must feel rather bad right now." It pressed. "Being an enemy to your brother once again."

"I am not his enemy." Dixie's eyes narrowed. "Not this time."

"It must be rather annoying too." The Shadow went on, ignoring his comment. "Having everyone hate you."

Dixie flexed his jaw.

"'Oh, if only we could get rid of that awful flag' they say." It stalked towards the chained up battle flag, taunting him. "'Everything that is wrong with be fixed as soon as its gone.'"

It stopped and rolled its eyes. "Humans are so stupid. They believe if you get rid of one thing the rest will simply vanish. Its incredibly ignorant and rather silly to think that a flag of all things causes problems. Not themselves."

Dixie wasn't looking at the figure anymore. He turned his head away more as it knelt in front of him. "How does it feel to be not wanted, battle flag? To be the scapegoat, the thing wrong with the world?"

A moment of silence passed.

And Dixie started to laugh.

The sneering look on the figure vanished, leaving a scowl. Dixie finally settled down to a chuckle.

"You think I care what people think of me?" Dixie snorted, leaning forward. Staring at it right in its creepy eyes. "See, its all about what you're taught. I learned pretty fast that people didn't like me." Dixie continued to look at its white eyes. "And I dealt with it. I don't care what other people think of me. The only one who can affect me is myself." He tilted his head, smirking slightly. "How does it feel, Shadow, that after all you've done, you still haven't made a difference?"

The figure roared in fury, and Dixie's victory was short lived. It grabbed the battle flags face and slammed it into the stone wall.

"DON'T TAUNT ME!" It snarled in his ear. Dixie chose to remain silent. He had won this battle.

But who would win the war?