It has been said that in every being there is the capacity for good and the capacity for evil. Where there is bravery, there is cowardice, and where there is mercy there is cruelty. These extremes serve as a contradictory, dichotomous association. Unable to reconcile, unable to separate in its entirety. These contrasting ideals are hated siblings. Wishing for nothing more than to disassociate from one another but forced together by the parental hand that is truth. Take for example, shy and meek humility, who trails unrelentingly at the heels of her fiercer, more outgoing twin pride.

Should it then shock us so that the line between good and evil may in fact be as thin as the glass of a mirror? For as in the illusory power of reflection, one part can only see itself in the eyes of the other. Peace cannot be without war. For without the notion of conflict there can be no understanding of its absence. And gentle selflessness, with her soft hands and flowing hair, is no kind beauty unless set beside the hardened calloused hands of her possessive brother greed. And as much as one might hate the other, their continued existence is contingent on the other's health. And so, even if good should feel the hanging knife of death over his head. Who but his embittered sister evil should come to his rescue. If for no other reason, than to confirm the meaning of her own existence.

It would be overly self-righteous, of course, to assume that our world may be completely good and another completely evil. Arrogant and naive even. But imagine, perhaps, an otherworld. A place beyond a mirror. Where staring back at you is the reflection of every right and wrong. An identical, yet by the same token a completely foreign entity. A world hardened by tragedy and hardship unknown to our own. Whose inhabitants have chosen to guard themselves against weakness by discarding such vulnerable aspirations as mercy and altruistic idealism. Would one such world come to the aid of our own should the need arise?

I think, perhaps… Yes.


A brown-haired, red-eyed American casually strolled down the sterile hallway leading towards his target. Whistling Yankee Doodle slightly off-tune as he playfully swung his nail-spiked bat around and around. A man dressed in United States military uniform stepped out from one adjoining hallway and trained his rifle on the brunette.

"Stop right th-!" The whistling stopped momentarily as the man was struck head on by the American's bat. Sending him sprawling dead onto the ground with a bashed in face to join his fellows. The whistling picked up again. Ah, letting loose was fun! Especially when he could kill his own countrymen without feeling a sting. But then again, the American supposed, they weren't really his anyway so who cared? His people gave no warning before firing. They were not so stupid as to allow a dangerous enemy to be so close without a bullet in the head. No wonder that guy was taken advantage of so easily. When the man reached the end of the hallway he came upon a single, unmarked but highly fortified door. Complete with retina scans, card readers, the whole shebang.

The brunette cocked his head curiously to the side. Whistling turning to a single, appreciative note before silencing. "I wonder if this is the right place?" He muttered sarcastically with a smirk. "Could they be any more obvious?" he asked no one in particular. Whatever. The American raised a booted foot and with one swift kick, knocked the titanium door off its hinges to clatter to the ground. He flinched at the loud banging sound. Well, someone probably heard that so he had better get a move on. Not wasting any more time the American turned his attention to another man lying motionless on a hospital bed. A single IV hooked up from a bag to his arm. Likely flowing with enough tranquilizers to take down a fully grown elephant. Or maybe five or ten.

Stalking over the red-eyed man pushed his dark sunglasses (prescription of course) up in order to better take in the sight. "Well heya Alfred. Not looking too good are ya hero?" he mocked. Lying there, unresponsive to the man's taunts was none other than Alfred F. Jones, the United States of America. Or at least, this world's version of America. Not wasting any more time the dark-haired man snorted one last time and flicked his blond counterpart's forehead teasingly before pocketing a discarded Texas on the side table into his darker colored bomber jacket and getting to work unhooking the IV. Once done, the unconscious nation was thrown over his shoulder, only for the other to immediately drop his bloodied bat as the nation's weight proved greater than expected. "Dude, seriously lay off the hamburgers" he scolded vainly once he got his balance back. In moments the American had taken up his bat once again and the odd pair was on their way.

"You know?" The Otherworld United States muttered to his unhearing reflection. "If two months ago someone had told me that I, Alexander Jones, would be breaking into a heavily fortified military base to save my own boyscout of a counterpart, I would have laughed and bashed their face in with my bat."

Alex readjusted his hold on Alfred before continuing down the hallway, careful to dodge the bloodied bodies of the guards he had killed to get there. "Strange isn't it? Well, you know what they say about the enemy of my enemy is my friend right?" Alex thought on this for a moment as he stalked down the bloodied hallway to the lanky figure in green keeping close watch of the exit. "Got pretty boy" he gestured to the unconscious nation with a cheeky smile. The scowling Briton huffed in annoyance before turning and stalking his way back up a set of stairs that would lead the odd trio to daylight without a word. Alex watched him go for a while before adjusting his hold slightly and following. "Nah" he decided. "We're still not friends."

~Two Months Earlier~

Sitting in a dark-toned office, a Northern Italian slammed the papers in his hand down on the top of his worn desk and groaned. His right hand dropped the pen he had been using and went instead to pinch the bridge of his nose. First Kuro, then all that shit with Alex. What the hell is going on lately? Sighing tiredly and returning to his work the Axis member felt his eyebrow twitch as he realized something was missing.

"Siegfried" he called slightly above a speaking volume. After a moment with no response, the russet-haired man growled in frustration and ran a hand through his hair, careful to avoid his perfectly placed, tan-colored beret as well as his left facing hair curl before sitting up straighter. "Siegfried!" he tried again. Louder this time. And in response there was the sound of rustling outside his shut door but still, after a moment or so, no one entered. Eyebrow twitching, the soldier finally snapped and jumped to his feet.

Pulling a thin knife from a strap on his left thigh the Italian slammed the weapon's pointed edge down on the surface of table to join the chaotic collection of pale nicks across the otherwise seamless mahogany woodwork. "SIEGFRIED!" he all but screamed.

Within seconds another, much bulkier and imposing looking individual stumbled in. Where the first was steady and exhibiting perfect posture, the second was disoriented and a bit disheveled. Where the Italian was dressed perfectly in his spotless tan uniform, the German was hardly put together at all. His jacket had likely been discarded in some other room, leaving only his sweat-stained beige -though it might have at one point been white- wife beater. His pants were not tucked neatly into his boots. And those very boots did not even have their laces tied. In essence, they looked complete opposites. "Ja, what is it you needed Luciano?" Siegfried asked, stifling a yawn. Clearly he had been napping until just moments ago. Even his hair was mussed instead of neatly slicked back as it should have been.

Luciano leveled his partner with a disapproving scowl and made a show of straightening out his own uniform before stalking over and smacking the taller of the two on the forehead. "Idiota! Were you sleeping again? I thought I told you to get your paperwork done! Kuro has gone and got himself missing Dio knows where I can't have you slacking off as well!" Siegfried said nothing but did avert his eyes slightly, and an embarrassed flush entered his cheeks. Not being diligent in his paperwork was one thing. Doing so when one of their allies had up and disappeared seemingly into thin air was another matter entirely.

"Well, I-um. You seemed to have everything under control so I-" Luciano smacked him again. It wasn't very hard, but Siegfried faked a flinch to make the Italian feel like it had some effect.

"Don't do it again! And another thing, fix yourself up you look like a slob."

The German sighed and slicked his hair back in a more appropriate fashion as well as straightened his posture. "Fine. Was there anything else?"

Luciano narrowed his eyes in thought for a moment before remembering. "Oh right" he turned and grabbed the loose papers on his desk. "Where is the rest of the joint-information your boss sent over? I thought this was supposed to be all of it?"

"Is it not all there?"

"Of course not! If it was, I wouldn't be asking now would I?"

Siegfried closed his eyes and frowned in thought. "Ja ja" he muttered tiredly, wondering idly if it would really kill his ally to ask nicely every once in awhile. "I'll go see if I left anything." Luciano turned his back on his frie-associate to stare over the documents on the desk. Giving no response to Siegfried's words but to grunt and wave his hand dismissively. The tall German nodded, giving and sloppy salute before exiting and closing the door to provide Luciano with his privacy.

Muttering to himself in his native Italian about incompetence and idiocy, Luciano almost failed to notice the flash of light coming from a wall mirror on the far left of the room. A remnant of a failed scheme to take over the world inhabited by their more, idealistic one might say, counterparts. Earth's version of the mirror had been destroyed after the incident, but Luciano had chosen to preserve the one in Otherworld. It might not serve as a suitable gateway any longer, but it did allow him to keep an eye on those goody two-shoes.

Intrigued, the magenta-eyed Italian stepped forward, momentarily forgetting his missing partner and unfinished paperwork, and stared instead into the reflective surface. Glinting across the glass was nearly his mirror image. With the exception of course of a navy uniform instead of tan, and the fact that the man wearing it seemed to be panicking like a sniveling coward!

"Ve- that idiota" Luciano growled at his reflection. Italy Veneziano of Earth, otherwise known as Feliciano Vargas, was a complete and utter weakling and an embarrassment, as far as Luciano was concerned. True, Italy was not the strongest nation out there, but did he have to make it so goddamn obvious!?

The russet-haired Italian in the mirror suddenly seemed to take notice of Luciano, eyes widening momentarily before he shrieked. "Ah! Germany! Germany help! It's me! WellnotmemebutthescarymeIdon'tknowwhattodohelp!" Luciano merely raised an eyebrow. Having not caught the latter half of Feliciano's rambling. The damn fool then started running about whatever room he was in with his arms waving around like he was Alexander's damn rooster. He was curious however, as to the fact that apparently Feliciano had seen him just as clearly as the opposite had been true.

"Feli please calm down" an exasperated German voice called from somewhere beyond Luciano's sight. The Otherworld North Italy knew this to be Earth's version of Siegfried. A man he thought to be far more focused than his own ally. The burly German came into view, spared a glance through the mirror at Luciano, and said nothing before looking over his shoulder. "England! It worked!" he called.

Again Luciano felt a twinge of intrigue. So they were contacting him? What could they possibly be doing that for? The Earth Germany and North Italy were promptly shoved away in time for a third nation to take the full space of the oval mirror.

Earth's England never smiled. Or so it seemed to Luciano. The man always appeared at least slightly irritated at something or other. And also had a penchant for foul language nearly as potent as his own. Luciano had to smirk as he was leveled with the Briton's dark scowl. It would have likely been imposing if Otherworld's own England, who went by the name Oliver, wasn't already so incredibly creepy. In comparison to the constant toothy smile and wide-eyed, psychotic stares, Arthur's glaring could be considered tame.

"Luciano" the England from Earth greeted curtly.

"Why Arthur isn't this a surprise. I never would have thought you of all people would contact me. Especially after all the trouble you and your friend's went through to stop the mirrors from acting as a gateway before. I must say I am flattered" Luciano proceeded to over-dramatize his point by giving a flourishing bow, though he did not dare break eye contact with the island nation. The blond on the other end grunted.

"Don't be ridiculous this isn't a courtesy call." It was the Italian's turn this time to humph before crossing his arms and rocking back on his heels as he stared down the other nation.

"Oh? Then what do you want?"

The blond seemed to hesitate for a moment, before Earth's Germany nudged him in the back as if to urge him to get on with it. Arthur turned to glare somewhere to his right shoulder before sighing and looking back at Luciano with a kind of resigned expression. "We need your help."

This caught Luciano off guard. "Che cosa?"

"You heard me."

"And why the hell would we ever want to help you?"

At this England's expression turned even more grave. "Something's happening on this side. We aren't going to be able to deal with it ourselves."

The Italian gave a disinterested snort but did quirk a brow. Was that why the former empire was the one speaking and not the self-proclaimed hero? Had something happened to him of all people? "That's your problem. Not ours." But the Englishman didn't seemed deterred in the slightest.

"I have reason to believe that what is going on here will affect your world if nothing is done" he warned.

Luciano just scoffed. "As if I would believe you." England continued to glare but was then pushed off to the side by a teary-eyed Feliciano.

"Something happened to your Japan didn't it? A-and America too?" the Italian wailed at his Otherworld counterpart. The more composed Italian froze before straightening his posture to perfection and meeting England's look with narrowed eyes and rapt attention. Completely ignoring the weeping boy.

"Start talking."


TBC