"Thank the heavens!" Alfred muttered to himself as England finally got out of his house. He had to sit through an entire day, one night, and most of his morning listening to England rant and whine about his various faults. Blah, blah, blah, messing up the Queen's English, blah, blah, blah, overweight, blah, blah, blah, you git, blah, blah, freaking blah.

In all truth, he's never been brought down by people constantly pointing out his faults and such. It's called ignoring the atmosphere, duh. It was only really annoying to him. Except for when Canada's the one yelling at him. When Canada rants at him he gets upset since the violet eyed nation was one of the only nations he actually cared for. Then again, nothing's ever been the same since Canada burned down his beloved capital in 1814. The filthy backstabber. All Alfred had tried to do was help Canada escape from Britain! Surely a couple of burned buildings and the Parliament wasn't that bad in the long run…

Sighing to himself he shook his head, it really wouldn't do for him to get too upset. If he got too angry then he might lose himself and completely break his façade. And that wouldn't do at all.

Grumbling still he went to the back of his house, like the very, very, very back part of the house. (It was a huge house, several people gotten lost huge house, found human bones huge house…) At the very, very, very back of the house was nothing very impressive… So he passed along the art studio, made a left at the shark aquarium, didn't even acknowledge the space-time continuum distortion generator, completely ignored the gravitational field disrupter, paused to correct the way the vase was sitting, then tripped over- was that another pile of bones?!

As he avoided landing on his face, because that's what hands are for, he yelled, "Get a cleaner droid down here! We have another pile of- what is this?- human bones down here!"

His own voice, recorded of course, answered from the walls, "Acknowledged."

"And make a sweep on the rest of the house! I am sick of running into them again! My hands hurt!"

"Acknowledged."

A sweep of blue light cast over him as the detectors began their search. It headed down the hall and out of sight. Showing that the computer he had running his house indeed acknowledged him.

Now, in an even worse mood, he stomped down the rest of the hall to the most important thing in the back of his house.

The broom closet.

As he opened the door he saw a multitude of old fashioned wooden brooms lined along the wall of the small space. Each were plain and ordinary, made by the hands of nobodies not living any sort of life at all, and-

He wasn't there for the brooms.

Sweeping them aside he came to the truly important thing in there. The chest in the back.

Upon opening one would see over his very well sculpted shoulders that there was-

Nothing in the box.

Like, legit.

Nothing.

Not even a bottom.

So, being America, he put one leg in and called out over his shoulder, "Clean this up after me, okay?"

"Acknowledged."

And down the chest hole he went.

At the end of the five minute drop he skillfully used the wall to propel himself forwards and away from the cage at the bottom of the fall.

To land in another one.

"Programm!" He screamed to the computer now obviously named Programm, "Get me out of here, pronto!"

"Acknowledged."

The front part of the cage swung open to let Alfred out. He could have just torn the bars off, but that would mean that he had to get them fixed. And, of course, it'd really be Programm getting it fixed but-

After getting out of the cage he opened the maximum security door with a yell to Programm and went to the room beyond.

His world control room.

What most people didn't know was that he was in control of all technology in the world since the light bulb was made and mass produced. And even more so since the creation of the Internet.

Too bad he could never use this in war because of a Hero's morals…

Not that he was one.

Because it was a ruse made by his partner.

And here was his partner now.

"Greetings, America," His partner greeted, now apparently on the comfy swivel chair facing the huge hologram screen. In a totally James Bond cliché he slowly turned around to face America while stroking a white cat.

Italy smiled at him.

"I was wondering when you'd get down here… Are you ready for phase one of taking over the world?"

I do not own Hetalia.

Okay, for any of my Through The Eyes of an ExAmerican readers, this was the roleplay I was talking about. My friend is allowing me to publish this, thankfully. I will update as soon as she writes her part.

One more thing, if you haven't already noticed, the writing style between this and Through The Eyes of an ExAmerican is pretty different. So if you liked that writing style, you might not like this one.