Summary: This story is an exploration of my favorite character's mind, past, or his overall character in general. I tried to include some historical and some other aspects into his often, misinterpreted personality. I also tried to stay true to the characters, so yeah… LONG STORY SHORT ENJOY THIS JOURNEY OF THE MAIN CHARACTERS OF HETALIA!

Rated M for some minor language and some bloodshed/violence. Better safe than sorry, yeah?

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"What is he thinking?" An hour? Two? How long had it been since this meeting had started? The gazes in the room funneled towards one empty seat. Suddenly, the voice that had been previously droning halted.

"America…" Germany grumbled, "… do you have something to add?"

"Yeah! This meeting has been goin' on for an hour and Russia's not even here!" He said pointing at the vacant chair.

"We should have known better than to trust such a creep to host these." China huffed, "He's too unpredictable!"

As per tradition, each year a different country held the World Meeting, yet Russia was nowhere to be found. The nations sat gazing uneasily around the dim, enclosed room, the air thick. Was he going jump out at random? Or come out of a fern? It was looked down upon, but not uncommon, for a country to skip out on the often unproductive meetings, but the timbering country was always delightfully punctual much to the dismay of the other nations. Thus, his absence here was all the more unsettling.

"Ah, has anyone even seen him since we've been here?" France questioned.

A resounding 'no' chorused through the room. Maybe he was just running late. Thundering footsteps vibrated through the halls and burst the doors open.

"Sorry I'm late!"

Who's this guy?

"Ah, Canada." France gazed at the haggard nation. His bear, Kumajirou, was wrapped in his arms. "have you seen Russia?"

Canada shook his head, still recovering from his run.

"…Is it just me, or is it really hard to breathe in here?" Canada spoke.

"Yes, the atmosphere is just…" Japan searched for the correct words. "…wrong."

"England." France said. "You're awfully quiet today."

England's spine straightened, but he regained his composure, "Y-Yes? What do you want, frog?"

"Well? Do you know where he is?"

America interjected, "Yeah! Didn't you get here a few days earlier than the rest of us?"

"Y-yeah, I saw him… He spoke to me once then showed me to my room."

"Who care anyway!" China threw his hands up, "He just scare everyone here!"

"Right. Well, if there are no further interruptions, I'd like to finish." Germany tapped his papers on the desk even though they were completely straight already. What now? Germany watched as Italy's feeble hand rose.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Um… Germany… I…" He vainly tried to whisper across the table, "Can I go to the… bathroom?"

"Why do you need permission?" Germany massaged the bridge of his nose, "Just go!"

With a squeak, Italy stood.

"Now, wait a moment!" England's voice was sudden and sharp, "Shouldn't someone go with him?!"

All eyes focused on the now clearly worried chap. England nervously laughed.

"Well, we don't know where Russia is, so how do we know if it's safe?" England reasoned, "He might get ambushed or something."

"Oh, I'll go with him!" America jumped at the chance to escort Italy – or perhaps to leave this super boring meeting.

"No, America, I—,"

"C'mon, British dude!" America walked to England and gave a reassuring pat, "I kinda have to take a leak, too."

"Eh? Oh, fine." England conceded with a drawn sigh, "Just… make sure you hurry up…"

"Italy! Let's go!" He motioned with a finger and turned for the door. "Okay!" The oblivious nation followed dreamily behind.

As they shut the door, the two noticed a considerable darkening in the stretch of hallway before them. What happened to the lights? The similarly optimistic countries waved it off as falling behind on bills. They continued on their trek through the barren corridor lightly chatting about various foods.

"Have you ever tried puttanesca, carbonara, or ziti?"

"Um… I've eaten pizza!"

"Oh! Siciliana? Or Napoli? Or—,"

"Dude, hey look at the hallway!" America pointed down the hallway. Italy screamed. The end of the hall seemed to twist off into darkness. The end curled up and contorted into a jagged spiral seeming to disintegrate into the black nothingness.

"I have to turn back!" Italy cried but he turned, to his horror, and found that the way back was the same twisted route.

"This must be some kinda trick!" America said overtly sure of himself, "No problem, I just have to keep going!"

Italy gulped, freezing in his spot. Oh, come on… America began before being covered in dust. A now very small Italy was disappearing down the hall at warp speed. "H-hey!" America followed after him as fast as he could.

"Hey! Warn me… before you… take off like that, man." America spoke through heavy inhales glad to have finally come to a stop. It really was getting harder to breathe in this damn place. America dragged his eyes from the floor to Italy. Whoa. Italy stood agape in front of a door spewing forth transparent tendrils of black - like dark tentacles writhing and wriggling against the exposed walls of the hallway. An intense vacuum emitted from the entry and looming chaos - whatever chaos might've looked like, this was it - glowed from the inside, a deep purplish hue.

Taking a deeper look into the room, the two could make out what seemed like a bed, the shape horribly distorted, some shelves with a vast library of tomes, and a chair and desk with a feeble light curling in the demented atmosphere.

"I-I think I see Russia." Italy managed not moving an inch.

"No way!" America's disbelief was only quelled when he saw a vaguely formed figure in the room. Sure enough, it was Russia. The silver hair and off-pink scarf were unmistakable – though now rendered dull blotches. America stepped forward. Italy yanked his arm back.

"Wait!" The copper haired nation pleaded tugging once more. "You aren't going in there are you?!"

"This demon's trapped Russia! I have to get him out!"

"M-maybe we should get-,"

"There's no time!" America jerked his arm free, "Hold on Russia! I'm coming!"

Dashing into the room– hero complex on his sleeve – fully prepared to receive a speech of gratitude America instead was greeted with Russia, slumped in his chair, head covered in blood.