No one was quite sure how it happened, but before they knew it, Switzerland's greatest weapon wasn't just his gun anymore.
Italy had been the first to find this out, first hand. He was on his way to visit Germany, crossing through Swiss territory to get there as usual. After the initial warning to turn back and get off the property, which Italy disregarded and just saw as a signal to start running across, it wasn't the usual gunfire but a pause. And so, not sure what to expect, Italy stopped and just stared at the house, curious as to why he wasn't getting shot at.
Of course, he more than regretted it after being made subject to a new and much more effective method to ward off intruders. There was a strange unfamiliar click and what sounded almost like canon fire, to which Italy quickly ducked, covering his head and screaming. As if that wasn't enough to scare him off, what happened next would definitely do it. He got hit hard, squarely on the arm, by whatever it was that was shot at him. It hadn't felt quite as hard as like metal, though it was far from soft. Turning to see what it was that had hit him, he almost fainted.
There, lying on the grass only a few inches away, was a small black object. A strange burning smell came off of it, almost as if it was baking gone horribly wrong. Of course, that was exactly what it was. Seeing such a horrible thing and knowing it had hit him, Italy ran off crying and screaming "MERCY! MERCY!" at the top of his lungs.
From that day on, Italy avoided crossing Switzerland like the plague.
Liechtenstein was worried when her brother started bringing home strange boxes with biohazard labels on them. Of course she would worry, such things shouldn't be in their house to begin with. But she trusted her brother knew what he was doing. Still, she had to find the courage to at least ask why.
One day, when Switzerland brought home a rather large box of whatever it was, Liechtenstein tugged nervously at his sleeve.
"Uhm, Bruder? What's in that box…?" She didn't look at him, but instead at the box. She was a little surprised when she felt him pat her head and she looked up at him as he sighed.
"Try not to worry about it too much. These boxes are filled with things that will protect you, alright? Nothing to worry about." The answer was so final, she decided to let it rest and never brought it up again.
Still, she was still curious why he seemed to get the boxes every time he came back from visiting England.
England was practically ecstatic. Finally someone seemed to appreciate his cooking. Of course, it was from a rather unlikely nation, but any appreciation he got, he was more than grateful for.
Switzerland was one of the last people he had expected to be interested in his cooking. Considering where he lived and the nations that surrounded him, he never would have expected him to actually ask for him to cook. Why would he ever deny such a request when it was one he never got? It made him feel almost proud that he had been asked to cook.
But he did find it a little strange that he never ate anything while there and just brought it all home. Maybe it was to save for later, or maybe it was to share with Liechtenstein. Whatever the case, he always made sure to make enough of it. And the more he made, the more satisfied Switzerland seemed.
What more could he ask?
Switzerland was always against waste of any kind. He had grown an awareness that England had been wasting valuable food resources by making whatever it was that he deemed fit to call food. He was the only one who seemed to actually eat it, but he still tried to force it onto other nations. No one seemed to like that very much and since all that food would go uneaten, Switzerland took it upon himself to make him stop.
Visiting the other nations wasn't something he liked to do all that often, but since this was a matter of world concern, he had to. He had called England to set up a day to go visit, though he kept the true purpose of this visit a secret. After all, it would be rude to just say something like that over the phone.
When he arrived, he saw England was wearing an apron and by the smell and the black smoke coming from the kitchen, he could tell that this was exactly what the other nations seemed to dislike so much and even fear in some cases. Being told to sit at the table while the food preparations were finished, Switzerland sat and just stared towards the kitchen, his nose wrinkling slightly at the thought of all that waste.
Hearing a crash, he was immediately on his feet and went into the kitchen, seeing what had happened. Looking up at him, England laughed a little.
"Sorry about that. Seems as though my elbow overturned the scones plate." England began picking up the scones from the floor with a sigh and putting them back on the plate, Switzerland helping despite the protests. Of course, now Switzerland could clearly see the little tiny cracks in the floor tiles that were directly where the scones had fallen. Staring incredulously at one of the scones, an idea began to form in his mind. Maybe England's cooking could be more than just waste.
"Instead of throwing those out, why don't you just wash them off and give them to me. I'd like to take some of them home, if you don't mind."