DISCLAIMER AND STUFF:
I don't own Hetalia or any of the characters, save for Mikmo and Mikmodia. They are all mine MIIINNNE!
Mikmo entered the house uncertainly, his pack over his shoulder, and looked around.
"So...this is your house...?"
"Da. It is." Ukraine answered, smiling at him, though her body language told him that she was rather annoyed.
"A little small, don'cha think?"
"Well, money is not really something that I have a lot of at the moment."
"Oh, right."
The teenage boy walked through the house, and shook his head, arms crossed.
"This won't do. I thought Kiev was going to be...bigger."
"Well, you already went to Minsk and didn't like it. Your only other choice is Vienna."
"Nah. I don't like Austria...smug idiot..."
You see, Mikmo had recently become a country. After calling in an ad on TV, robbing 43 banks, failing at robbing 41 banks, creating fake credit card accounts, and paying 83.7 trillion dollars, he'd gotten his choice of several European countries to rule over. He'd always heard that nations were actually people - living things - but he'd never believed it. Now he was ruling over Ukraine, Belarus, Austria, Lichtenstein, and was seeking to procure Czechoslovakia.
He sprinted from Ukraine's house and looked at it from several angles outside.
"Yeah...that'll work."
"What'll work?" Ukraine asked, her chest bouncing along as she raced after him.
"That."
A second later, Ukraine's house exploded, and several military helicopters dropped a gigantic mansion in it's place.
"Wha-what did you do to my house?" Ukraine shouted.
"Eh...I demolished it to make room for my new mansion. Don't worry, you and everyone else can live there with me. I officially pronounce Kiev, the former capital of Ukraine, the new official capital of Mikmodia!"
Mikmo skipped into the new mansion, which had somehow magically had a foundation poured underneath it, and been furnished wonderfully. Gas and power were working fine.
"Nein!" a girl's voice squealed from the doorway, "I vant to go back to my big brother!"
Mikmo twirled around, and saw Lichtenstein being dragged along by Belarus.
"I would much rather go back to my house too, but we have no say in the matter!" Belarus snapped.
"Welcome, comrade." Mikmo said, smiling. He walked up to Belarus and bowed, then knelt down to eye level with Lichtenstein.
"Hello, there." he said cheerfully, "I'm Mikmodia, but you can call me Mikmo. I'm your new big brother."
"No! It doesn't work like that!" Lichtenstein said angrily, crossing her arms.
"I know you're upset, but that's just how life is. If you put up with me, I'll put up with you."
"No!"
He sighed. "Fine...have it your way..."
Mikmo got up and walked up the carpeted grand staircase, and halfway up, he put his hands to his face, made sobbing sounds, and pretended to cry.
"I just...I just wanted a little sister. I never had one, and...and...I just thought..."
He continued his fake sobbing, and heard light footsteps running towards him.
"No, don't cry!" Lichtenstein exclaimed. She hugged him around the waist. "I'll be your little sister...I just thought...Switzerland wouldn't let me go..."
Mikmo ceased his pretend sobs and smiled, brushing his dark brown hair from his dark green eyes.
"R-really?" he said, faking the stutter, "Oh, thank you! Don't you worry, I'll be the best big brother ever. Why don't you go unpack?"
"Alright!"
Lichtenstein ran up the stairs with her suitcase.
"You disgust me." Belarus said as she followed Lichtenstein, and Ukraine followed, sighing.
"Hello? Is this the right place? I saw the palace in the middle of a field, and just assumed that-"
"Austria!" Mikmo exclaimed, dashing down the staircase.
"Oh...you're...Mikmodia...?"
"You got it."
"I expected you be older."
"A lot of people do. Now, why don't you go choose a room to unpack in and-"
"Let's get one thing straight, Mikmo. I don't like you. You quite literally bought me and whatever nations are living here now. Just don't ask too much of me, and we'll be fine."
Austria stormed up the grand staircase, not even looking back.
Mikmo sighed and shut the door. He looked at his clothes. A crimson hoody with a silver eagle on the back, black cargo pants, sneakers, and black cotton gloves. He certainly didn't look very nation-like.
There was a knocking at the door.
"Hello? New neighbor? I have come to welcome you to Europe, da?"
Mikmo's blood ran cold for a moment. 'Da'?
He opened the door, and came face to stomach with an incredibly tall man.
"Privyet, I'm Russia." the man said happily.
He had silver hair and violet eyes, with a tan trench coat, black boots and gloves, and a long white scarf. Russia.
"H-hello." Mikmo said, "I'm Mikmo...dia."
Suddenly, Russia snatched him up and squeezed him.
"Oh! You are so cute! I shall take you home, and hug you, and cuddle you, and squeeze you, and name you Petrov!"
He dropped Mikmo to the ground and let himself into the house.
"So, this is your house, huh?"
"Da..." Mikmo said, dazed.
[TO BE CONTINUED?]