A/N- Hello! Well, this is my first Hetalia fan-fic, so be prepared for utter chaos. Beside that, I have the grammar of a two-year-old, so be warned.

DISCLAIMER- I do not own Hetalia, only in my dreams do I own it.

Prologue- The Beginning of It All

It started out as a normal day. Well, as normal as it could possibly be when there was a World Conference. As usual, America was giving a big speech about some "idiotic" (as England had called it) idea while the rest of the countries were secretly passing notes, pretending to pay attention, or sleeping (in Greece's case). The majority of Europe, however, were openly talking or arguing.

America, England, and France were fighting about the usual, hot green chick statues and caterpillar eyebrows, while Italy was asking Germany (repeatedly) if he could have some pasta. At the same time, Romano was yelling at his brother for talking to the "potato eater" as Spain, who was sitting next to him, compared his flushed angry face to a tomato. On the other side of the table, Japan, China, and some of the other Asian countries were conversing about the wonders and strange habits of Western culture. And in the midst of all this was poor little Canada, who found himself ignored like always. But he was pretty used to it by now, and just watched as his polar bear, Kumajiro, asked his who he was... for the twentieth time that day.

Anyway, by this time, Germany was at his boiling point. He just could not stand it anymore, how could all these nations be so immature? They had been sitting in the meeting room for over an hour now, and so far the only thing that had been accomplished was absolutely nothing. That is if you count "nothing" as a second WWII and Soviet Union.

"Everyone, shut up already!"

Instantly, the whole room became silent.

Well, almost.

"Kesese~! Yo, chill, West! I was just getting to the part where I crushed the pa-"

BANG!

The sound of a cast iron pan meeting an awesome Prussian skull resounded throughout the room as the silver haired ex-nation fell to the ground. A smug looking Hungarian women stood over him, smiling sweetly as she turned back to Germany. "Please, continue."

The German's eye twitched, no wonder why his brother acted like he was two years old half the time. Must be brain damage.

It had been half an hour since the meeting fell under Germany's control, and, believe it or not, things were actually accomplished. America had managed to propose a somewhat reasonable idea, England and France weren't trying to strangle each other, and even though Sealand had sneaked into the room about ten minutes in, the conference was still ran efficiently and productively. Also, Romano had fallen asleep shortly after the "potato eater" had started talking, so the profanities that had bounced around the room decreased by 50%. Germany had decided that it was more peaceful with the fiery Italian asleep and not disagreeing with every single one of his ideas, so he pretended to not notice Romano's snoring. Poland and Russia, though, were having a silent glaring contest over Lithuania, who was trying his best to ignore it. All while the other two Baltic countries looked about ready to have heart attacks at the sheer intensity of the Russian's cold violet eyes. In the back of the room, three out of the five nordic countries were silently playing on their iPhones and iPads, since they hardly ever contributed to these kinds of meetings. What about the other two? Let's just say that Denmark and Sweden were going to have a lot of bruises on their legs later. Overall, it was peaceful. For the most part, that is.

Unfortunately, this was all changed as our favorite little Italian (no, not Romano) asked a very important question.

"Ve~ Germany? Can we stop for lunch now? Pleeeease~?"

"Did someone say lunch?" America jumped out of his seat, his bright blue eyes wide at the prospect of a juicy hamburger with fries and some Coke Cola.

"I agree, lunch sounds nice," Japan said.

Switzerland slammed his hands on the table as he shot a glare at the Japanese nation. "Don't you ever have an opinion of your own?"

"Opinions originated in Korea da-ze~!" a certain Korean exclaimed as he ran over to the Swiss nation, giving him a hug. Well, it was more like groping, but hugs just sound better.

"Get off of me!" Switzerland blushed as Korea proudly proclaimed that his breast, ahem, sorry, I mean chest, originated in Korea. The blonde swiftly took out his rifle and aimed it at the Korean, who was now running around the room shouting "I'M SORRY DA-ZE~!" with tears streaming down his face.

That's when things really started getting out of hand. Within minutes, Poland was attempting to strangle Russia from across the table, while Lithuania tried, but failed, to pry him off. Latvia had fainted when Poland suddenly lunged at Russia, and Estonia was in the process of trying to wake the small nation. Meanwhile, England and France were back to fighting each other, using whatever they could find as weapons. America smartly chose to stay to the side, cheering for no one in particular but laughed particularly loudly when England socked the other nation in the stomach. Romano, who was awakened from his siesta due to the noise, took to cursing everyone (Germany specifically) out for being the biggest idiots in the whole wide world. Our favorite Prussian nation had also just started to regain consciousness, but was knocked unconscious again as one of England's scones hit him on the head. The mere scent of it had scared the Prussian as much as his days as a Teutonic Knight did. Scratch that, England's scones were actually scarier than being a Teutonic Knight ever was.

You're probably wondering, "What's so bad about England's scones?". Well, you probably don't know England. His scones have been reported to taste like, and I quote, "petrified couch stuffing" by America, who lives off of fat, greasy, heart attack-causing foods.

Germany sighed as he looked towards his Italian friend, who was looking back at him with round, pleading doe eyes. Nothing's going to get done anyways if everyone continues to fight like this, he thought.

"Fine. We'll stop for lunch, but be back here in 30 minutes!" the German warned as he stepped out of the room, Italy happily bouncing behind him.

And thus, lunch began.

England was scowling as he left the meeting room. A nicely sized bump was throbbing on the right side of his head, and he swore that the scratch marks on his neck were bleeding (though they weren't). This was all, of course, courtesy of France.

The Englishman headed towards the basement as the rest of the nations headed outside or towards the food court. He needed some revenge on a certain silky haired, so-called "sexy" Frenchman. Opening the door that lead toward his old lair, England grabbed his black cloak and spell book from a dusty shelf as he descended down a set of spiral stairs. A faded drawing of a circle with an intricate pentacle design in the center was visible as England lit a small candle to help guide him.

He hadn't been in this particular secret lair since the last meeting of the Allied Forces during WWII. He had missed it.

"Hey, England!" A small, mint green flying bunny came fluttering up to him as he fastened his cloak on.

"Ah, hello Flying Mint Bunny. I haven't seen you in a while. How have you been doing?" the blonde asked, smiling pleasantly at his magical companion.

"I'm doing well," the cheerful green bunny replied, before giving him a quizzical look. "So why are you down here again? Is there another war?"

"No, I just thought I'd come down here to get some re- uh, I mean try out a few new spells."

"I guess you'll need this then." The green bunny handed the nation a faded old leather bound book as he lit a few more candles and placed them around the circle.

England smirked as he stepped back to admire his work. "All right, that should do the trick." He was going to make France pay.

"Well, good luck, England! I have to go see if Norway brought along any of his pixie friends!" the bunny said.

Waving a small goodbye at the bunny, England closed his eyes as he began to chant a spell from the old book. Slowly, the ground was being clouded by an ominous purple fog. So far, so good.

"Hey, Artie! Are you down there?"

Scratch that.

As England's concentration was replaced with anger and irritation, a giant puff of smoke engulfed the room and first floor of the building before everything went black.

A/N- So, what did you think? Hated it? Thought it was horrible? Or maybe even liked it? Share your thoughts (good or bad) by reviewing, please! ^^