A/N: This story is the sequel to a previously written story by Malta-chan called World War 3 - 2p! Overtake. Like is here ( story/2442092/World-war-3-2p-Overtake/1/). I reccommend reading that first, so that you understand this fic. Enjoy! ~Random-san

Chapter 1

Malta dashed down the hallway. The meeting had just ended with a successful note for the first time in who knows how long. Still, she was stressed beyond belief about the matter. The 2p!s probably wouldn't cause a problem at this point, but the dream from the night before still raged in her thoughts. Malta wished she could just forget it and the 2p!s would go away. Having two people die and her friend run away in a nightmare was frightening.

"Hey, Malta. Where is your awesomeness going?" Prussia called. Malta sighed; she really didn't need Prussia right now. All she wanted was a quiet place to think.

"I'm okay, Prussia," Malta lied, "I'm just going to the restroom.

Prussia caught up to the nation and grabbed her shoulder, "You sure you're okay?"

"Yes I'm sure," Malta replied, exasperated.

"No you aren't. What's wrong?" Prussia smirked.

Malta glared at him, "Nothing's wrong with me, but what about you?"

"Nothing! I'm awesome! Why are you being so mean?" Prussia countered.

"I'm not being mean," Malta responded, "I'm just not in a good mood. Leave me alone."

"Nein," Prussia grabbed Malta's hand and smirked.

Malta glared at him, "What are you doing?"

"Gluing myself to you without using glue."

"You're retarded," Malta pulled her hand away and stalked off.

Prussia ran after her, "Hey come back!"

"No," Malta brushed him off and slipped into a bathroom. Prussia sighed and sat down on a nearby bench wondering what was making her so mad.

"Malta?" Prussia finally asked.

Malta replied after a moment, "What?"

"Please come out. I didnt mean to bombard you or anything," Prussia begged.

Malta grinned, "so you're sorry?"

"Yes."

"Really sorry?"

"I guess."

"Super super sorry?"

"Don't push it."

"So you are?"

"I said yes!"

"Yay!"

"So you're happy now?"

"Who said that?"

"Your tone of voice."

"No it doesn't."

"Yes it does."

"Well if it does it's not a real tone of voice."

"Can you come out?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because I'm mad and I hate you now."

"I thought you loved me."

"I do but I hate you right now."

"Why would you hate me?"

"Because I am mad at you for annoying me when I'm stressed. All I wanted was to be alone and you stopped that from happening and wouldn't let me have my space."

"You could have told me that before."

"I tried."

"Not really."

"Yes I did."

"Nein."

"Iva. Now shut up."

Prussia didn't reply, so Malta smiled. She sat back and sighed; finally she was alone. It was nice for a little while, but she began to wonder what Prussia was doing. Malta feared she might have actually hurt Prussia.

"Prussia?" Malta called, but there was no response.

"Prussia! If you're still out there please say something!" Malta shouted. Tears welled up in her hazel eyes, and she flung open to her door. To no surprise she found that her albino friend was not there.

"Prussia!" Malta yelled as she dashed down the hall. The young nation turned corner after corner until she reached Prussia's room, "Prussia!"
"What?" The familiar voice drifted from the room.

Malta slammed her fists on the door, "please let me in. I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm really stressed, that's all."

"Then why don't you be stressed out on your own?" Prussia muttered.

"Really?" Malta snapped.

Prussia nodded from the other side of the door, "yup."

Malta turned around and stalked off. She didn't need Prussia. He was being a jerk and she could ignore it and leave. Yugoslavia and Andorra would probably be more help for her anger anyways.

"Malta!" Andorra's loud shout took the brunette by surprise.

Malta spun around, "What is it?"

"It's England. He got hurt trying to protect Yugo outside in the court yard. I think it was a 2p!" Andorra gasped.

"Oh crap! Why did I know this would happen?" Malta began running with Andorra down to the infirmary.

When they got down there, Malta found Yugoslavia holding England's limp hand. Blood soaked his shoulder and neck.