Arthur had gone to the pub.

Again.

It had been a hard day. The conference room was louder than normal; the bickering of nations had risen in volume considerably. Britain had fought with France (as usual) until the meeting was nearly over. France had become preoccupied his hair, ("Beautiful hair, Ohonhonhon" as he would say,) which caused their conversation to cease existence.

Britain then began a heated argument with America. This time it was concerning the idiocy of America's plan to feed the hungry with one giant, universal, hamburger ("It's going to get old and moldy, and the grease will cause anyone who eats such a horrid thing to puke out their guts!" he had said, "Where the bloody hell would you get such a big patty anyways?!").

The meeting, and the entire day itself, had angered, frustrated, and tired England out so much… that he just wanted it all to go away.

And who better to grant his wish than a few drinks of alcoholic beverage?

No one. So they were a welcomed friend.

But the bartender was new. He didn't know that after a few glasses of scotch that Arthur would start to wail about how Alfred left him in the revolution. That he would start to sob to himself in a drunken heap, crying to any nearby patrons (even if he didn't know them) in the bar that Alfred could never, and would never, understand his true feelings that he hide away under a cloak of hatred and insults.

But all the other people in the bar at the time were regular customers. They already knew about England's "tragic" life story.

But the most important mistake that could be made that was the new bartender didn't know about Arthur's drinking habits, what would happen if Arthur had too much. But none of the other patrons bothered to tell him. Maybe they didn't care. Or forgot. Or honestly didn't know. But the new bartender wasn't informed.

So no one realized that Arthur did have one too many.

However, the bartender had briefly wondered, Why was this man suddenly so calm and quiet? Wasn't he sobbing and wailing just moments ago? But the bartender was quite happy with the peace and quiet that ensued.

But Arthur was tentatively reaching over to an empty beer bottle, left by the previous customer. While the bartender was busy submerged in his own thoughts, Arthur grabbed the bottle by the neck, and smashed the bottom on the wooden bar top tabletop.

The room went (relatively) silent. All eyes were glued on the one man sitting at the bar, now holding a makeshift weapon. The bartender noticed this too, of course, and quickly he pressed the emergency 911 call button underneath the bar top. He only had enough time to do this simple action before Arthur jumped up onto the bar top, and the bartender found himself with a bottle pressed to him neck. He was being held at bottle-point. He raised his hands in an act of surrender.

"Hand over the loot." Arthur said, a serious look in his darkened green eyes, as if this wasn't one of the most absurd things that could have happened. He gestured quickly with his bottle at the most expensive scotch that the pub owned, before pointing it back at the bartender.

The bartender was hesitant in handing over the scotch to this man. Loot? He thought, Why would he say loot? But another look into the intoxicated man's eyes, (though he didn't seem so intoxicated anymore), and he complied to the strange request.

Arthur was in the process of grabbing the scotch when two police officers barged in through the door, much to the surprise of most of the patrons, small gasps escaping their lips. The bartender was filled with relief. These officers were prepared for an armed robbery, their guns raised at the man standing on the table. However, the sudden commotion going on behind Arthur only caused him to turn around, slowly and calmly, as a smirk formed on his face.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" He taunted as he stepped down onto a bar stool, spinning once around as the stool swivelled, and onto the ground. It was miraculous that Arthur didn't lose his balance and fall over in the process.

"Drop your weapon and put your hands in the air!" a policeman yelled, his gun trained on England.

"Don't make us use force!" the other added.

"How dare you threaten me!" England yelled loudly, his mood drastically changing from calm to furious, "Do you not know who I am!? Does fear not creep into you when you hear my name whispered into your ears!?"

Holy crap, The bartender thought, Is this guy a wanted criminal!?

"Stay where you are!" The first policeman ordered, as England began to saunter towards them. The second policeman was ushering bystanders out of the pub. They didn't want any innocents caught in this mess.

"I'm the most vicious pirate of all the seas!" England yelled angrily, his voice rising in volume, as he raised his sword into the air, as if he thought that it was going to shimmer in the sunlight. He clearly ignored what the policeman just said.

"I'm CAPTAIN, BLOODY, KIRKLAND!" He practically screamed, voice rising even higher in volume as he took a lunge towards the closest policeman.

BLAM

A searing pain shot through his shoulder as he was knocked backwards by the impact. He lost his balance as he cried in agony from the pain, hitting his head off of the closest barstool. He fell to the ground on his back, his hand twisted beneath him, gasping for air.

"Call an ambulance!" someone yelled, Arthur couldn't see whom, as his eyes were glued to his right shoulder , which was currently gushing what looked like a lot of scarlet liquid from the gunshot wound. He watched, feeling completely helpless, as the blood drenched his clothes and the carpeted floor. His left hand clutched at his shoulder, futilely trying to slow the flow of scarlet.

The bartender, who had been watching the entire scene unfold, quickly called 911 after getting over the initial shock. He relayed the situation to the emergency respondents on the other end of the line.

One of the policemen ran over and removed the jacket of his police uniform. He bunched it into a ball, and attempted to apply pressure to the wound.

"AAAHHHGG!" Arthur unwillingly cried out in pain, squirming away from the policeman's touch.

But he couldn't get far before somebody the policeman cried, panicked, "Somebody, GRAB HIM!" The other policeman ran over and firmly held Arthur in place, despite his protests. England gave up though, the other man was larger and stronger than he was, and his body was weakening from blood loss and exertion.

The police man applied pressure to the wound again, causing Arthur to cry out in pain once again, tough louder this time. Tears were forming at the edges of his eyes, causing his vision to blur. He shut his eyes tightly to stop them from sliding down his face, and he gritted his teeth against the pain.

"I'm sorry", The policeman applying pressure choked out, "But it's for your own good…" Very soon the paramedics arrived, rushing to the scene and taking over the policeman's job.

"Get a stretcher and lift him onto it!" One ordered the others. Arthur could only whimper in pain as he was lifted, the last of his strength being sapped away.

"He's going into shock!"

Arthur could only remember getting halfway to the ambulance before passing out from the pain.