Alfred F. Jones, also known as the United States of America, had no idea what was going on, and it terrified him.
Although, he'd never admit that.
He had just put water to boil on the stove when the lights went out. The glow from the blue flame under the pot on the stove danced across the countertop and reflected off of Alfred's wide blue eyes from where he sat at the kitchen table. It was ominous, to say the least, and Alfred was frozen in place by the eerie silence. The TV in the living room that was showing Indian Jones had shut off, too.
It was Halloween night. Alfred had made sure to lock his doors and windows, reinforce them with doorstops and wooden rods, duct tape his light switches on, duct tape his porch light off, hide his weapons (including the kitchen knives), everything. This was the worst time of year, as this time was crawling with scary movies and freaky costumed children. The European nations always had something planned, and he wouldn't let them get him. No! They couldn't!
Well, apparently they could.
And this was just not cool.
Alfred fumbled for his cell phone, flipping it open and nearly dropping it in his haste. He used the artificial light to clumsily sprint to the stove. With shaky hands, he flicked the knob off, the fire extinguishing instantly. If someone was in the house, they couldn't know where he was. Turning off his second most reliable light source was painful, but necessary.
"Breaker box, breaker box, it's in the basement, but the basement is scary, but I'm the hero, so I can't be scared, so I'm going into the basement, oh shit, where's my phone?" Alfred patted the counter desperately, trying to find the cell phone he'd set there just a moment ago. "My phone, my phone, my pho-"
Something made a sound akin to a cell phone snapping shut in the back corner of the room. Alfred's blood ran cold. They were in the ROOM. With a huge mental shove, Alfred sprinted over to the open basement door on the other side of the kitchen and practically flew down the stairs.
The dank, chilly room under the house had two entrances; one led from under the staircase in the front of the house and the other from the kitchen in the back of the house. Alfred didn't like basements, so he felt the need to keep it blocked off. It was normally silent and pitch black because of its neglect. There were two problems at this very moment…
Moonlight poured in through the open half window, shining on the unlocked breaker box, whose inner wires were so mutilated that the raw copper wiring was making a small whirring sound.
Alfred slapped his palm to his forehead.
It was then he noticed the single note on the floor, illuminated by the moon's silver glow. He carefully approached and picked it up.
Several different styles of handwriting decorated its surface.
'This is for the other 364 days of the year that you pester me, you bloody git!'
'Mon cher, you really should consider locking every window.'
'I'm sorry, brother… They made me…'
'Time for you to recognize me!'
'Papa said this would be fun, and it is!'
'I will try my best not to light a firecracker near valuables…'
''Allo, mate! Hope ya don't mind me raidin' your fridge while we're at it!'
As soon as Alfred dropped the note, eyes alight with shock, heavy and slow footsteps crossed over the floor above him, as if to deliberately freak him out. At the same time, the window was slammed shut, casting Alfred into darkness once again.
This was going to be the worst night of Alfred's life…