Hello, this is Ginseng-chan. You might know me as the author of the Tsubastian crossover series. This story is completely different from it! It's almost completely Hetalia, and it's extremely depressing! Also, this is AU! Purely AU! Please read and enjoy. I really appreciate all the feedback!

Step 1: Classification
I think back to the day that my brother Britain let me attend the World Meeting. As I tried to keep up with his large steps, I paid no attention to his hand placed gently on my shoulder. That hand, the feeling of protection, was something I would not feel for a long time.
When we got to the meeting, Britain told me to wait outside. As he swung open the door and walked in, I could see France and Turkey arguing furiously. Then the door shut and I was left to wonder what the problem was.
I noticed Germany approaching the meeting room. He looked stressed, tired, and upset. A paper dropped out of his bag, landing at my feet. I picked it up, reading it.
"G-E-N-O-C-I-D-E. What's that?" I looked up at him, waiting for an answer. Germany hurriedly took it and stuffed it back in his bag.
"It's a horrible thing. Worse than anything you could ever imagine." Germany looked at me seriously, regarding me with his ice blue eyes. "Hopefully you will never experience it, Peter."
"I told you, Germany, call me Sealand! I'm a nation too!" I shouted after him as he left. Little did I know that my dream would become a nightmare for everyone I knew.
I spent the rest of the day waiting for the others to show up. Britain had told me to wait for my friends Sweden and Finland. Soon enough, they both showed up and I walked into the meeting room with them.
However, this council was about to take a turn for the worse. America had just begun reading over a list of rules.
"The Eight Stages of Genocide. First: Classification. Second: Symbolization. Third: Dehumanization. Fourth: Organization. Fifth: Polarization. Sixth: Preparation. Seventh: Extermination. Eight: Deni-" He abruptly cut off at the sound of painful moaning. It was Japan, who had been sitting quietly next to America. He was now clutching his stomach, eyes squinted with pain.
"Japan, are you okay?" asked America, kneeling down to help the fallen nation off the floor. The Asian got up shakily, still holding his stomach.
Gomenasai, America-san. It's just that the sushi…from yesterday…..might have been spoiled…."
"Japan", said Germany worriedly. Italy, who sat next to him, also looked concerned.
"Peter, get Japan some water", commanded Britain to me. He was walking toward Japan nervously.
"Okay, Iggy." I ran out the door, worried. Why did Japan get so sick all of a sudden? The last time that happened was a few weeks before World War II started. Would something just as bad happen now? I kept these thoughts to myself, however, as I walked past the second meeting room, careful not to disturb those in session, the non-nation leaders. They always got upset when the nations made too much noise. However, today they didn't seem to care. Although this was a refreshing break from their screaming, there was something suspicious about it. They hadn't talked to us, even to complain, in several months. Cautiously, I tiptoed up to the door to hear their angry voices.
"Those damned nations. Making us work around their capricious whims."
"They're not even humans-like us!"
"Who's to say that they can dictate our lives!"
"Apparently they can. Only a few hours ago, the people of Japan suffered from a devastating earthquake. All because, as I have heard, the 'all-powerful' nation wasn't paying attention to what he was eating."
"We need to act now! To prevent any more problems. But how to guarantee it?"
"Well, you know what they say: the only good nation is a dead nation."
I backed away from the door, startled. How could these men blame us for all this? It's bad that Japan got sick, but that didn't cause the earthquake. Nations could only influence politically, not geographically. However, these leaders didn't seem to care. Frightened, I ran down towards the hallway water cooler to finish my errand.

Step 2: Symbolization
The next day, Britain and I woke up early to the sound of commotion. A few of the nations, including us, were staying at a hotel near the meeting halls. As I tiredly opened my eyes, I began to see France shaking Britain awake.
"Get off, you bloody git", he muttered toward the Frenchman. France, however, did not stop.
"Britain, you have to get up! S'il vous plaît!"
"Fine, you wanker." Britain got up, still in his pajamas. Turning to me , he said," Peter, stay back." I followed him down the stairs anyways.
At the door was an official-looking man, one of the inchoate National Security, holding a large box. Britain answered the door with a tired smile. "Good day, sir."
The man did not smile back. "Is this the residence of the nations of Britain, France, America, and Canada?"
Britain nodded. The man promptly thrust the box into his arms. "You each will wear the clothes with the flag of your respective nation. You are not to take them off under any circumstance. If you are found without them, you will be shot." With that he closed the door and marched down the street.
"What a strange man", muttered Britain.

Step 3: Dehumanization
Liechtenstein, Switzerland's little sister, was waiting for her brother in their rented hotel room. He had gone to get them something for dinner. She was so glad that they had gotten the quiet, isolated hotel on the other side of town. Staring down at her flag shirt, she decided that it wasn't too bad. At least, Switzerland seemed okay with it, and if he was okay with it, she was too.
Suddenly, she heard a knock on the door. It must be Switzerland, she thought, and cheerfully ran to open the door-
-to see her brother fall brokenly into the doorway. His flag clothes were torn, and he was bleeding.
"Big bruder!" Liechtenstein picked up her brother and carried him over to the couch. Even though his mostly red flag hid his wounds, she noticed blood and dirt were smeared on it. She hurriedly pressed a damp towel on her brother's bruised face. Switzerland looked happily at his sister and slowly closed his eyes.
The next day, Britain and I received news that Switzerland was doing much better, mostly due to the help of his doting sister. I learned the whole story from him on the phone. Apparently, he had gone into a humans-only restaurant and had been badly beaten when he refused to leave.
"Peter, don't try to be a nation", he told me. "If you're not a nation, you're a human, a human with rights. If you are a nation", he said coldly, "then the vermin, disease, and scum of the earth have more rights than you'll ever dream of getting."

Step 4: Organization
A few days later, Britain woke me up early in the morning.
"What is it, Iggy?" I asked. Britain looked annoyed and tired, wearing his wrinkled flag shirt.
"France got himself arrested last night. I have to pick up that wanker at the jail." After he left, I went back to sleep without another thought of why France would be in jail.
When I awoke a second time, I saw France and Britain standing in the front room. Britain was glaring silently at France, who looked embarrassed. The nation's flag shirt was ripped open, and he had the remnants of blue, white, and red paint on his face.
"What happened to you?" I asked him.
"I'll tell you what happened to him, Peter", said Britain. "This git had the nerve to throw a party with his buggering wanker friends East Germany and Spain. Then East Germany invited West Germany, Italy, and Japan, completely forgetting that it was illegal for more than three nations to gather. What's more is France had the bad sense to strip when he got drunk, forgetting as well that it's illegal to go without a flag. Luckily, in their drunken stupor, these gits painted their flags on their own faces, because that's when National Security broke down the door to arrest them all."
I stared at France and Britain, startled. Why were there suddenly all these laws against nations? They seemed innocuous, but still, why?
That's when America burst in on a rage.

Step 5: Polarization
"What is it, America?" asked Britain, startled. The American shoved a newspaper article under Britain's nose. A look of shock passed over the Englishman's face. As he passed it to France, I got a closer look at it.
A man dressed like America was standing on a pile of dead soldiers, eating a cheeseburger nonchalantly. A caption read: Is This the Face of YOUR Country?
"What sort of a wanker would put that in a newspaper?" asked Britain.
"The kind of wanker that is the United States Government," muttered Canada sadly. He had been standing behind America and was now patting his younger brother's back comfortingly. "At least nothing worse has happened", he whispered. "Yet."

Step 6: Preparation
In a few days, we had all of Europe living under the roof of the hotel. An edict had issued all of the European nations to move to this hotel. Asian, America, Oceanic, and African nations all had to report to other hotels. When America and Canada left, America told me we would surely meet again. Now I am doubtful that that will happen until after the termination of my life. It was, however, nice to be with my family and friends. I remember wanting to stay there forever, with all of them. But Britain had other ideas.
"Peter, go get some food and water from the shed outside", he told me on the second day. I was a bit confused, but hurried outside to fulfill my brother's request. As I entered the shed, I noticed him right behind me. Without warning, he slammed the door and I could hear him turning the lock.
"Iggy! Let me out!" I said, pounding on the door. Britain didn't grant my request, and instead just whispered," It's for your own good, Peter.
That was the last I ever heard of his voice.

Step 7: Extermination
I had learned that Britain must have had this prepared for some time. There was enough food and water for a few days, and it was a large enough area not to feel cramped. I only wondered why I was here. Then, a series of shrill cries answered my question.
I recognized their owner as Italy. From the sound of it, he seemed very scared. That's when I heard the sound of another pair of feet.
"You tried to run away, didn't you", said a low, cruel voice.
"I-I just wanted some pasta! I'm sorry! I'll never do that again!" the nation responded frantically.
"Oh, you'll never do it again, I'm sure." I could hear the fateful sound of a gun being loaded.
"Please…no…." Italy cried.
Then the shot came and the whimpering ceased.
I hoped Britain and the others had not met the same fate.
A few days later I awoke to the smell of smoke and the sound of screams. Immediately shaking off my drowsiness, I ran to the door, trying to push it open. I must have been at it for several hours, for when I succeeded in opening it, it was too late.
The whole hotel was burnt black, and the charred remains of dead nations littered the building and ground. Without thinking, I leaped over Italy's dead body and hurried inside. At last, after passing the carcasses of family and friends, I found the man I was looking for. As I turned his limp form over, I noticed his expression was calm and peaceful. His glassy eyes had a look of extreme relief. This was too much for me. I threw my arms around the dead body of Britain, crying for all the times I had failed to appreciate his gentle caring nature.
Then I realized that I was not alone.
A red haired man wearing a National Security uniform was standing at the back of the hallway. He stared at the dead nations stoically. How could he just look at them like that? I felt the anger of loss boiling inside me and ran towards him furiously.
"I'm sorry", he said, turning to face me. He looked strikingly like Britain, making me falter. "My name is Scott Middleford. I am very sorry to see Britain dead. Please trust me when I tell you that I can protect you the rest of your life. It is what Britain would have wanted, seeing as he gave his life to save you."
I looked over at my dead brother. "I'll come with you, Mr. Middleford, on one condition: you will create a day to honor the nations brutally killed by these acts."

Step 8: Denial
"And that concludes my lesson on genocide. Thank you for coming, and don't forget to do the worksheet I assigned that is due on Friday." I stood up from my desk tiredly and started for the door as my colledge students left the classroom. One student, however, stayed behind.
"How can I help you, Mr. Rondatto?" I asked him.
"Professor Middleford, I couldn't help but notice that you might have forgotten a genocide." Rondatto adjusted his glasses nervously.
"And which one might that be?" I asked.
"Well, about thirty years ago, there used to be a group of people who were the nations incarnate. However, disputes between them and the National Security caused their elimina-"
"Mr. Rondatto, the National Security was created by the UN to regulate foreign policy", I said, forcing the half lies out of my mouth.
"But, Professor-," started Rondatto. I held out my hand. Britain had not died for nothing.
"Mr. Rondatto", I said painfully. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Never forget. Never forgive.

what did I tell you? It's super sad at the end! (this was actually an English assignment but my teacher let me make it into a fanfiction! *evil laugh*) And a certain doctor from Jade Country makes a cameo too! Anyways, thanks for reading!