Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.

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Like Something Out of an Awful Horror Flick

The undead were literally crawling on the hillside. After grappling out of their hiding places still unknown to man (perhaps they had been discovered already, but no one had – or could – step forward to claim so), they tottered their way up the grassy hill, grasping at roots and each other to stay upright. If it hadn't been dark night, the fact that these zombies had an affection for the taste of flesh, and zombie attacks had been prevalent this side of the equator, watching these slow moving creatures ascend the hill might have been comedic.

One curious zombie, most of its long hair hanging limply against its head as decay rotted most of its face, sniffed at the air before pawing off in one direction. Another zombie, who had been holding on it to for balance, collapsed and struggled stupidly to get to its feet again. The first zombie, undistinguishable from the others besides from the thick chain, fashionable eons ago, around its neck, grasped around, opening and closing its mouth soundlessly, showing green teeth that shone in the moonlight.

"Gross." A flash of silver and the sharp blade of a gigantic axe swung through the air and sliced the zombie in half from the waist. "Now awesome at all."

This attack drew the attention of the gregarious mob; one of their members was down; they could smell it in the maggoty decaying scent the corpse was now emitting sharply. A low moan seemed to come collectively and their trek up the hill was cut short as they switched directions to converge on the man standing in the clearing, axe handle in one hand, the other in a fist on his waist.

"Oh, you're coming to me now? Good idea. I'm so strong and good looking, it's no wonder why you wouldn't want to die at my hands." Cackling, he swung the axe clear above his head and let it fall back to the ground, cleanly slice a couple of zombies in the process. He was pretty good at this, if he did say so himself. The best thing about zombies, he figured, was that they didn't bleed; no blood to wash from his axe or his clothes. All they did was stink and release gaseous methane, but he'd smelled worse before. "Nor, Nor, are you watching? Did you just see what I just did? One swipe! Did you see?" The childish glint in his eyes seemed unusually for someone swinging around a huge weapon. He glanced behind him as he fended off another wave of the undead.

"Sorry, I just missed it," his companion said disinterestedly, shining a flickering flashlight on a map in front of him. Unlike the fighter, wearing a gaudy, flashy coat that would be inconvenient if he'd bothered to think about convenience, this boy was dressed quite plainly, and he could sit in the tree without worrying if a zombie might suddenly develop impressive motor skills and drag him down via coat tail. The flashlight flickered once more before going out. The boy cursed.

"What happened, Nor?"

"Damn batteries." Norway cocked his head and tried to read the map with the moonlight. "I told you we should have stopped at that town, but no…" He glanced sarcastically at the fighter, who was watching him despite battling the zombies, and he let his voice creep in a mean rendition of his partner's. "We'll be moving faster if we just take this route! Trust me, Nor! Everything will be fine!"

"I thought it would be," the warrior sulked, pouting and taking out his disappointment on a nearby undead. "But this is what we're supposed to do. Stop the mutations from killing people."

"Watch out behind you," Norway said distractedly, waving his hand dismissively and summoning an icy gale that froze the zombies attempting a surprise attack on Denmark. The noisy man mowed them down before moving on to the thinning gang.

"But really, over this hill is the next town and they've got problems with vampires! Fun, right?"

Norway had given up on the map and was absentmindedly flicking the air with his fingers, shooting zombies up in the air and watching disinterestedly as they collapsed in an unmoving heap in little piles. "Anything's boring if it's with you."

At the turn of the century, Earth had experimented enough on its own soils and people that a mass virus, often referred to as the Mutation, spread throughout the planet, changing certain individuals with certain genes into different…well, mutations. All the creatures of folklore suddenly became horribly real, be it espers or zombies. Not all of the things hit by the Mutation became bad; people like Norway who retained their humanity existed, often choosing to live in solitude or fight off the remaining mutants. However, these were few and far in between.

Thus, individuals like Denmark put it upon themselves to rid the planet of these nuisances. The mutants had an uncanny desire to harm or consume living flesh, which became somewhat of a problem.

Chaos descending upon the world, and before long, the place became a nameless mass of land. To preserve the old country, children were named after important places, people, dates.

"Die, sparkly shiny bastards."

"Did you know," Norway said listlessly, staring up at the starry sky as Denmark swung his axe around (blessed and marked with the sign of the cross a couple days earlier), "that in the old days, people thought that they could keep vampires away with garlic and sunlight and the Cross?"

"They were also attractive glittery actors who fasted from blood," Denmark pointed out. A couple months back, he and Norway had visited an old library a few cities back that held records of famous tomes and films, and on his insistence, the two of them suffered through several hours of a vampire series full of bad acting and over-the-top special effects.

"It can't be so bad to be a vampire," Norway mused, watching as one flew toward him, swooping down on him like an overgrown bat before he flicked him off (quite literally too) and the vampire howled as it rocketed off, a nasty burn on its face. "All you have to worry about is eating. That can't be so bad."

"I heard it's painful to be sucked by a vampire."

"Let's keep this conversation child friendly."

"I mean…oh you know what I mean." Denmark was having a bit difficulty as the vampires were proving to be quite…floaty. Swinging at air was rather taxing after a while.

"I read that a long time ago, people actually gave blood for medical purposes." Norway paused as Denmark glanced at him as he held his axe out in front of him of a trio of smirking vampires. "The people who created that organization must have been vampires."

"They must have been pretty sophisticated to ask for it," Denmark agreed, collapsing on the bench out of breath as the small group of vampires advanced on them. Had it not been some genetic coding that prevented them from entering households without being invited, they certainly would have decimated the town already. Norway shrugged noncommittally, sliding toward him as he flexed his fingers.

"I understand that night gives you an advantage because you don't see what's coming, but the fact that so many of these mutations just come out at night is getting boring." Denmark yawned as he strolled through the woods, as if wandering around a forested area without a light was the most normal thing in the world. "Honestly. I've got to sleep too."

"It makes people more afraid of something so inanimate like the darkness," Norway sniffed, carelessly stepping on small twigs, crackling the ground underneath them. Denmark rambled on about how bothersome this was, how he was afraid of the dark when he was a kid until he'd gotten his axe, how the world would have been a better place if everyone could all get along. Meanwhile, Norway drowned out his partner's words and perked up his ears at a soft crackle that didn't come from under his feet.

"To your left, two o' clock."

"I'm serious," Denmark continued, as if he did not hear. "Couldn't we get all these things into one room, talk to them, and leave? Back in the day, people from nation lands just got together and talked. But then again, they all had wars too, so I guess just talking doesn't always work."

Norway was about to open his mouth to repeat himself when Denmark flung the axe out and caught the werewolf that had silently leapt at him while he was walking and talking. "What?" he asked, as he noticed Norway's face, before breaking out in a grin. "Were you worried about me?"

"I was going to say that you got blood all over yourself. Don't flatter yourself." Denmark looked down at him, wolf blood all down the front of his coat. The injured werewolf twitched at their side, before letting out a loud howl and expiring.

"Now's he's called his pack," Denmark announced, scratching his chin as the sound of a large group of animals started their way from deeper within the forest. "I guess it's better than looking for them."

"I don't especially like the water."

Denmark looked over his shoulder at Norway, the spray of the seawater splashing onto his face as he stood looking down at the raging sea from a safe distance from the edge of the cliff. "What are you talking about?" he asked, shouting more than usual to hear himself over the roar of the waves. "You lived near the ocean."

"I remember a lot of flooding," Norway murmured, picking at the coarse grass at their feet, the gray, downcast sky threatening rain. "And it was always too cold to swim."

"It's never too cold to swim." Setting his axe down, Denmark shed his coat; if he was shivering from the cool wind around them in his thin red shirt, he made no indication. Norway didn't bother telling him not to dive down and risk hitting his head on a rock. If Denmark wanted to do something, he did it anyway. "They won't mind if I don't get on this, will they?" He nodded toward the little ocean village a distance away.

"I'm not responsible," Norway replied. Kicking off his boots, Denmark whooped over the wind and looked down at the sea again, before extending a foot as if he could test the water from yards above the actual thing. As if activated, the already disturbed surface of the sea broke as a merman leapt up from the depths, writhing sea snake hair bleached white as he gargled, reaching a webbed hand to grab Denmark's leg.

"What do these things do to you again?" Denmark asked, lifting his foot so it was just out of reach as the merman fell back into the sea again.

"They drag you to the bottom of the ocean."

"Ah." Denmark taunted another merman, then a mermaid ("She was pretty, you know…if you didn't count the fact that she had gills."), then a boy who actually managed to grab his ankles but wasn't heavy enough to drag him back down.

"Axe," he said calmly, holding out his hand as a thrashing merboy gurgled at him, sounding like a child with a mouthful of foam. He wiggled his fingers as Norway ignored him.

"It's your problem," Norway insisted. "And anyway, they shrivel up after a minute or so out of water."

Denmark lifted his foot up and down, watching interestedly as the merboy seemed to sink upon himself before finally letting out a sound akin to water draining before letting go and plummeting into the waves below. "You know, I think they'd be okay. If they didn't like to play with ships."

"This isn't a famous tourist attraction spot anyway," Norway said sleepily, closing his eyes as the first drizzle of rain grazed his face. Rain always made merpeople energetic.

"I kind of miss Iceland," Norway said as they stood out in the desert, waiting for the twelve-o'-clock harpies to circle overhead. The truck they had abandoned a few feet away stood waiting for them, water and supplies sitting in the back. Denmark stared on, pretending that sand was not getting into his boots and Norway had not alluded to the famous little brother he had that he had lost a couple years back and now had no idea of his whereabouts. It was something that Norway clammed up about if prompted. Denmark let the axe drag behind him, cutting a small grove into the sand with the blade that disappeared as the little grains fell back in to fill up the canal.

"You wouldn't think this place is big enough for us to just miss each other."

There was a high pitched shriek and Denmark saw the pink tinted harpies glide overhead, magenta feathers providing the woman-shaped creatures' decency as they pecked your livers out and impaled you with their talons. Norway must have been upset; one of the harpies gave another loud shriek as it suddenly spiraled down, both wings bent at odd angles.

"Don't give them a reason to gang up on us."

"Then take care of them," Norway spat. "I'm going back to the car."

Denmark was not a big fan of giants, even if they were on the humans' side.

"Y'r in th' way," Sweden grunted at him and pushed him out of the way as they faced the stone-formed golems, and Denmark nearly wondered aloud how Finland could put up with him, much less have sex with him. Sweden was not a purebred giant, so he did not tower over them like skyscrapers, but he was still a considerably sized human being. Finland, the demure man whom Sweden seemed to be keen to protect, was standing at the back with Norway.

"Be careful, Sweden!" he called, and Denmark turned to him, both annoyed at how Finland seemed to be okay with Sweden and how Norway never cheered him on. Norway shot him a look, seemingly reading his mind.

The golems were made short work of, with Sweden's help, and the four crowded into Finland's small house. Finland bustled around, happily making tea as his contribution to the anti-mutation cause; he was not endowed with powers like Norway's nor did he possess the ability to physically fight them off. Sweden leaned over the table, studying the guests with an icy intensity behind glasses.

"Take a picture, it lasts longer," Denmark grumbled.

"Y'r doin' fine?" Sweden asked, directing his question toward Norway. While Norway did not seem to mind giants either which way, he was the one who would listen to him. "With him, I mean." Sweden nodded toward Denmark, who sputtered.

"No, but I put up with him. Thank you for caring." They were sitting too close, Denmark concluded. Sweden was trying to be sweet on Norway. This was unacceptable.

"Well, I could ask the same of Finland!" As Finland came out to the room, holding a cup of tea, Denmark grabbed him around the waist and nearly knocked the hot drink out of the startled man's hands. "How do you deal with Sweden here?"

"L't Finland go," Sweden said, suddenly rising, but Denmark only let go because Finland dropped the cup he was holding in his left hand, wincing.

"What's wrong?"

"My hand hurt all of a sudden."

Denmark turned to Norway, whose hands were mysteriously out of view. Sweden quickly swept the flustered man out of Denmark's grasp, refusing to let go even amid protests, but Norway's reaction had already distracted Denmark, who admittedly, had a short attention span.

Kissing someone while fighting off enormous spiders was something that Denmark found first hand to be something of a feat. For one, as he was locking lips with Norway, he had hit the spider's eyes with his axe instead of one of the many legs, giving them a blinded, maniacal spider that was supposed to be incapacitated, not infuriated. Spider eyes had nasty orange goo that excreted when hit but that was the least of his worries as Norway wrapped an arm around his neck. The spider clicked its pinchers irritatedly and discovered that a warm fire was burning in its insides, courtesy of an equally irritated flick of Norway's fingers.

After all, it should be known that Norway's anger was worse than any of the mutations existing.

Owari

Note: I sort of also want to explore boxer Greece and cleric Japan and the trio of trigger happy Germany and Prussia and Italy who lures out mutation with his food. I don't know how this came to me. Obviously the end of the academic year has dropped me on the head and made me reference Twilight and sort of Harry Potter. Both which I don't own. Giant!Sweden = pure win.