Update my other stories? Haha, that's too mainstream. (Don't kill me please)
America smiled. It was an unusually peaceful World Meeting; Canada was for once at least acknowledged as existing, if not getting listened to much, Russia was watching with a less-creepy-than-usual smile and occasionally even interjecting with reasonable suggestions, Italy was awake and Romano was surprisingly quiet, while Spain kept his hands to himself for a change, and even England and France were behaving themselves. This kind of meeting was rare and treasured by everyone, and the one who did or said anything to make it dissolve back into chaos would get glares if not blows.
When Germany finished with his speech about global warming, America got up to speak. He cleared his throat. "So, you guys have probably heard about the racial shootings in my country," he began abashedly. "And um, I just wanted to make it our priority to put racial issues front and center in our -"
"DAD! GET DESERT BLUFFS AWAY FROM ME! HE'S GOT BLOOD ALL OVER HIM AND HE'S TRYING TO MAKE ME JOIN HIS STUPID STREXCORP!"
"Heehee, little Nightvale is so cute! You should smile more, Nightvale! Give me a big HUG HELPLESS LITTLE CHILD HAHAHAHAAAHA!"
"AAH GET AWAY FROM ME! I HAVE A BLOODSTONE! I HAVE A BLOODSTONE!"
America froze. No. No, no, not now. Not now! England turned around in confusion - oh God, England was there. That pre-humiliation chill was already settling over him.
Slowly - ever so slowly - the superpower turned around to face the two preteens in the doorway, his lips set tightly in a practiced smile. "The incorporated and dimensionally-shifted towns of Nightvale and Desert Bluffs," he said quietly through the screams and attempted spells (Nightvale's) and the maniacal laughter (Desert Bluffs'), his voice deadly sweet.
Both towns stopped.
"Turn to face me, please," America coaxed, his voice sugary. Both boys slowly did as he asked, guilt written on their faces. The assembled nations gaped at America's children. The one America had called Nightvale had large violet eyes - three of them - with long lashes, curly blonde hair, and a fierce pout, as well as what appeared to be small tentacles waving lazily out from under his shirt. The other one, who had been called Desert Bluffs, looked greatly like his brother - enough for them to be twins. His hair was a darker dirty blonde and had been allowed to grow down to his chin, his eyes were a luminescent yellow, his skin more tanned, and his third eye appeared to have been sewn shut. But the most disconcerting difference was that Desert Bluffs' clothes were soaked through with what appeared to be human blood. The slick red substance coated his hands and face and everything he wore, the coppery smell permeating the room.
"Yes, Dad?" Nightvale ventured guiltily.
"Look at my face."
Both boys did so, and paled.
"You have ten seconds to run."
They ran for their lives.