Disc: What would you do if you woke up attending a different high school, one with people from all over the world?\par

Opening Statements: Look. if a technical or historical detail comes up, and you feel that it is incorrect, let me know! But please, google it before you start yelling at me about what a pair of NATO Combat Trousers look like.

Disclaimer: Look, the story's M for a reason, you fusterclucks. That reason is a lot of cursing, and possible smut later on. Also, I own nothing, except this verdammt keyboard.\par

"I don't know what's worth fighting for, or why I have to scream!

I don't know why I instigate, and say what I don't mean!

I don't know how I got this way, I know it's not alright,

But I'm breaking the Habit, I'm breaking the Habit, Tonight!"

-Linkin Park, "Breaking the Habit"

My name is Geoff. I am 6'1", 174 Lbs. I use the metric system as much as possible, even if doctors don't. I typically am wearing a pair of black NATO combat trousers, a black T-shirt, and a black, 3 sizes-too-large hoody. I spend an inordinate amount of time watching anime and shipping couples. I was on my way back home from the local anime shop, when I was stopped by a crazy old man. He had been there for 3 hours, every day. "Take this. It will make your life exactly the way you want it." It was a milky white liguid inside a glass bottle. I took it just to get him to shut up. I am not a gullible person. What I am, however, is a 17 year old male human, making a member of one of the stupidist subspecies of anything ever. So, naturally, I drank it all by the time I got home. It tasted remarkably similar to a Monster brand energy drink, without the awful aftertaste. When I arrived at home, it was the same routine as always. Play on my computer for half an hour, get ready for work, and maybe have time to eat dinner after work. I had had a 5-hour shift that day, so I was \i tired.\i0 I turned my AM radio off, switched my fan on (I can't get to sleep without shivering), and fell asleep before I could even take my glasses off.

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When I woke, I wasn't in my bedroom. My bedroom had graph paper strewn across the floor, not knives. I didn't care whose room I was in, I could not abide by them leaving unsheathed knives on the floor. That's when I noticed my arms. I was already pale, but thanks to my work I always had a farmer's tan. Now my arms looked as though they had never seen sunlight. Also, they lacked any hair whatsoever. "What in the fuck..." I said as I began looking for a mirror. I tripped over a broadsword, on my way to a bathroom. "Who the shit keeps broadswords laying around?" I asked myself. I finally found a bathroom. God, the house I was in was huge. I looked at the mirror and screamed. I had suddenly become albino! Half way through the panic attac the mirror had triggered, I noticed two things. First, I could see more then a foot without my glasses on. Second, my ass didn't hurt, so if I had been raped the rapist was curtious and used a lot of lube. More likely I flat ass hadn't been raped. Another curious feature: I was wearing a necklace I had never owned, and that was all that was different about my clothing. I was wearing a Cross of the Teutonic Order, commonly called an Iron Cross. I looked up to see a man in wearing glasses with an odd curl in his hair staring down at me. "Gilbert, you're making an ass of yourself again. What was it this time, nightmares?" He asked. I just nodded, trying to get him to go away. He sighed. "Very well. I will go let our Bruter know." He walked away. "Bruter is german for brother... I don't have a brother..." I said. I got up, and paced back to "my" room. I had a piercing headache, and just wanted to hide in the dark. Conflicting memories starting bouncng around my head. In some, I was Geoffry Hunter, perfectly happy teen with a stable life, family, and who attended a normal High School. In another, I was Gilbert Weilschmidt, albino, severly depressed teen with anger issues, and I attended a high school that had some kind of "culture super-exposure" plan, where many nationalities of kids were in one class. Someone stood in my doorway, a tank of a man. "Vhat vas ze dream about zis time, Gilbert?" He asked through a thick german accent. "Hmm? Oh, that I was somebody else." I said. I've always been miserable at lieing. half-truths are a specieality of mine. The tank of a man, who was supposed to be my younger brother sighed. "Our bruter told me you punched yet anozer mirror out. You dreamt about Father again, didn't you?" He asked. I just closed the door on him. "Just becasue you are pale, does not mean that people can't see ze scars, Gilbert." He called out, then walked away.

Fuck me, what was that about? Alright. the headache was gone, left in its wake was massive confusion. The conflicting memories had left right behind the headache. I started picking the room up, and I noticed a bookshelf in the closet. On its shelf, was book after book all labeled "Meine Journal". I could use these to my advantage if I was stuck here for any length of time. I opened the most recent one, and was confronted with carful diagrams of the exact locations and depth of cuts, presumably administered by this 'Gilbert' fellow. As I looked them over, I realized that up and down my arms were scars that coincided exactly with the diagrams. Who the fuck cut themselves, then calmly described and drew exactly where they had done so? Me, apparently. I looked at the clock and cursed. "Scheisse, I'm late for school!" I quickly threw a jacket on, which I realized had a Prussian flag sewn to the right shoulder. When I finally arrived at my English class, and looked at my class, everything suddenly made sense. "Fuck. Hetalia, of all things?"

Scifigamernerd: What do you think? Tell me via reviews, bitte!

TRANSLATIONS:

German:

Bruter: Brother

Bitte: Please/Thank you

Scheisse: Shit

Verdammt: Damn

Closing Comments: First, I'm sorry for the short, possibly boring first chapter. Second, in German, pronunciation of "v"s and "w"s are swapped. So "Wie" is pronounced "Vee". Third, an Iron Cross is NOT an evil symbol. It is the cross of an order of Christian Knights, imposed over the Silver Cross of Jerusalem. Finally, any feedback regarding my writing style or descriptions is always welcomed, so long as it is informed, because I can and will prove you wrong if I have to.

END OF CHAPTER 1