Aiden- Ireland

Alastair- Scotland

Awstin- Wales

Oliver- 2p England _

"Bloody bastards… a-all of them. That damnable America, he and that froggy cheese eater just love making my life a hell." The personification of Great Britain muttered as he picked his way through his own capitol. He felt a small glimmer of satisfaction for once that his home was small again. He could afford to spend more time in one place unlike the major powers such as China, Russia, and America. They were so large that they were almost constantly moving around. His small island allowed him to get to know his cities like he knew his ale. Unfortunately, he had to use his knowledge of both tonight.

"God, and those w-wankers Alastair an' Aiden- they just encourage the others. At least Awstin is staying out of it for once. " He stumbled through the streets and checked his location at the next signpost. He was pretty sure he was going the right way but then he was sure he was heading home when he blacked out and woke up in Geneva as well. To this day he had no idea how he managed to cross the channel in his drunken state. "Ruddy jerks, the whole lot of them!" A hearty "Aye!" was shouted from the other side of the street by another lost soul before they both continued on their midnight shambling.

After a few wrong turns and a rough scuffle with a shady looking rubbish bin, England finally made it back to his own house in the heart of his heart. He managed to unlock his door and enter the parlor but that was the extent of his abilities. The door was shut and he tumbled into the wall as he tried in vain to make his way upstairs.

"W-what did I do wrong? Why do-does everyone leave?" England thought maybe it was his surly attitude but that was nothing he could change no matter how hard he tried to be a right proper gentleman. Could the others not see how hard he tried? Maybe he was to stand-offish? France always came back for more though and his brothers gave more than they got from him. The question burning in his head at the moment was why he being driven to the pubs when nothing had changed in his daily life. He and America had gotten in a row but that was nothing new either. England hiccupped and had a nagging thought that maybe that was why he was getting pissed tonight and every night he decided to check up on his old charge.

He had an idea of what had happened tonight. He was too drunk to remember most of this fight but he remembered others and if they were any indication then they had ended up fighting. He didn't need to be told that America still held resentment towards him. He knew that as well as everyone else and his brothers constantly brought it up because they knew how much losing America had hurt him. Hell, he still felt a little anger towards the child he had raised. Whenever they fought, it was mutually assured destruction. They both knew exactly what to say to hurt the other and but now America had gone too far. England could vaguely recall the brat saying that he wished he'd never been found by England.

"Fine America. If that is how y-you really feel then let's see if w-we can ar-arran- make that happen then!" He couldn't find the stairs to get to his room and he would swear to the fact that they kept changing location on him, however, the stairs leading to his basement were much easier to find as he had run into the door on one of his previous drinking binges and broken the ornate door. Now he began the momentous task of traversing the stairs. He had to call upon his old pirate days though because they were swaying more than a flag in a windstorm. He managed to make it to the level ground before he had to turn over and retch on the cement flooring.

Most of England's magical friends left at the sound of the drunken Brit almost falling down the stairs but Flying Mint Bunny and Unicorn didn't want to leave him in this state. They had seen from past encounters that the nation could be very violent not only to others but he could also try to harm himself. He never remembered doing it and he never tried while sober so his magical friends just tried their best to keep him safe while he was inebriated and avoided the subject when he brought it up. Mint Bunny stayed because she would always be there for England, her longest friend. Unicorn stayed because he had the magic. Hook and the Leprechaun had small traces yes but nothing like the sheer force Unicorn had.

One thing England had never tried while pissed was his magic and as much as his friends loved him they knew England's magic tended to work out in funny ways if they wanted to phrase it kindly. England attempting magic while drunk was bound to lead to even worse results than usual.

Flying Mint Bunny and Unicorn shared a look before Unicorn walked forward with an exasperated snort. He butted his head carefully against England's shoulder and gave a questioning neigh. England was still flipping through his spell books and didn't look up to speak to his long-time friend.

"No. It's nothing b-bad so don't worry so much."

Unicorn gave another snort similar to the one directed at Flying Mint Bunny a few minutes ago.

"Hey! The git'll be fine i-it's what he want'd anyway," England's speech was starting to slur. He'd have to hurry if he wanted his drunken mind to be able to justify this. He flipped to another page and started reading the requirements and results. As much as he hated America at the moment even he couldn't justify making the poor boy both blind and impotent. He flipped to another page.

That statement earned him a disbelieving look and a pleading whinny.

"He'll be fine. The damnable brat always is. With my luck he'll find a way out of it and come screaming at my doorstep by some ungodly hour tomorrow morning."

Unicorn stomped his foot and nickered angrily. He even bit down on the book England was reading and pulled it upwards out of his grasp.

"Fine fine, a simple tran-train-pot? Transport! A transportation spell. I'll bring him back after a f-few days. Will that satisfy you lot?"

With a glance at Flying Mint Bunny they both agreed that was the best they were going to get from England in this state. He consented with another small neigh and gave back the book.

England grabbed it with a huff and clumsily flipped through the pages to the proper spell. He was starting to sway on his feet and with his speech going he had to act fast. He snapped his fingers and held his hand out. Flying Mint Bunny appeared with his chalk and after depositing it in his hand she flew off again to hide. Unicorn stood by ready to help when this all went wrong.

It took a few more seconds than it should have for England to draw the spell circle but he kept having to redo parts that he either smeared himself in a drunken haze or that he simply drew wrong do to his pub hopping that night. Eventually he did get it right and at that point he stood up with the book grasped a little to firmly in his hands and after forgoing his usual black robes, started to read the spell.

Or at least he tried to. The words were stating to blur on the page and some of the old Latin was slipping form his mind. He muttered curses to himself and after a few adjustments tried to start again. This time he had much more success and the circle started to glow. Only it wasn't with England's usual bluish-white magic, no this was a deep red. Flying mint Bunny looked out from behind her hiding spot and she reacted with a blind terror. Flying over to England and trying to get him to stop but he was in the trance now simply reciting the words to weave his magic to his will. Unicorn neighed in horror and joined Mint Bunny in trying to halt England's magic. Before either could think to destroy the spell circle the room was doused in a blinding flash of white light.

England collapsed on the ground but thanks to flying Mint Bunny he avoided and head damage. Unicorn walked over and snorted with sadness. Just what had his friend done? Flying Mint Bunny chirped a question which Unicorn answered with a soft nicker. He laid himself down next to his friend and watched as Mint Bunny pet England's hair. England may feel like America's babysitter but he had never stopped to think about how his friends are his. They were getting ready to just wait it out and ask England in the morning, when he was sober, what he did when they heard a soft footfalls.

"God, what did that bastard try to pull now? Ha, European Alliance my ass Italy! Bringing Norway and the rest of those Nordic douchebags into this with only get you hurt even more!" A figure stepped out of the darkness and after his short but strong worded rant, took a look around his perceived prison. "Eh what a dump! I mean I get we're at war but really? This is the consideration you show your captured? I guess I should just be glad you didn't stick me with Germany's clingy ass or your overly flamboyant brother. Hell, I might even have to thank you for this. It's almost roomy compared to that shithole I share with Canada! You think this is going to stop me? I'm the United States of America guys, you gotta do better than this if you want to keep me down!" By now he was running his hands along the walls and inspecting the ceiling for weak spots. He shrugged deeper into his worn bomber jacket and hefted a large wooden bat over his shoulder deftly avoiding the nails pounded into the end. He spat on the floor and turned to finally take in the rest of the room.

"Oliver? You too dude? Shit they really got us good," he walked over to the man lying on the floor while dropping his bat in the process. America had no real intentions to help but it never hurt to see the extent of the damage. Whatever had managed to take out England was worth inspecting. Crouching down to see the wounds for himself he was surprised to find not only the absence of blood but also no existing scars from any other previous battles that England had participated in.

It was then that he noticed the odd clothing the other man was wearing. Sure, Oliver never was one to conform to modern dress style, or even practical ones, but this man was in simple brown pants and a long-sleeve white shirt partially hidden by a green sweater. It was so simply boring that it was almost painful to think that Oliver was wearing it. This other man's hair was also darker more of a dirty blonde then the light locks he was used to. He had one last fail-safe. No matter what joke he was trying to pull Oliver never changed one thing. His eyelids were pried open and inspected. America pushed himself away from the imposter and snatched up his bat in preparation of an attack.

He held his stance above the slumbering man but as no movement was made he began to lose interest and with a final glance at the doppelgänger he moved along the walls again until he came across a book lying innocently on the floor.

"The hell is this?" He spared yet another glance at the other man and hurriedly picked the book up. He briefly scanned the page it was opened to and then almost let the book fall from his grasp as a large smile threatened to split his face in two. He clutched the book tightly as he let out a cackling laugh. "So you wanted to get rid of someone in your universe," he spat again at the end of his question before he moved over to the stairs he was finally able to locate. He started to climb, "you have no idea what you just fucked with." America burst through the broken remains of the door and headed to what he guessed was the main entryway.

Leaning his bat against the wall, he pulled down his red-lensed sunglasses and searched his pockets for a matchbook. As he finally located it he just unfolded it and scrapped all the matches on the elegant table and then held the flames up to the book he had found. The flames licked up the ancient paper and started to truly catch ablaze. He threw the book into the house and watched as the flames caught on the furniture. Soon the house was engulfed in the fire and America walked away with his bat slung over his shoulder, shades over his eyes, and a smirk on his face. "Let's cause some damage."

Well.

That's certainly a sudden turn of events.

Oh god. Did I just write 2p? I think I did. Send help, I think I'm having a fangirl overdose.

The reasoning I have for the 2p's having different names is simply to help keep them straight. 2p England (Oliver) belongs to beek-why. She also gave me the idea to have other names for the other nations. Oliver was her name for 2p England. As far as I know the others don't have names but feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. We'll meet the other 2p's in the next chapter! (Hopefully.)