Francis soon returned with his suitcase in hand. "I'm ready, Angleterre.", he told Arthur. "I'll ask you once more…Are you sure you want to go with me?", Arthur asked seriously. Francis nodded. "I'm sure.", Francis assured him. "Okay. Let's go, Francis.", Arthur and Francis left the hotel heading to the helicopter that was waiting for them.

After hours of flying, they finally reached Great Britain. Arthur surveyed his homeland and he saw thick clouds of smoke. "So much destruction…", Arthur's heart dropped at the sight of seeing his home in burning ruins. Francis placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Angleterre. We'll find a way to fix this problem. I'm sure of it.", Francis comforted. Arthur turned and his eyes met Francis'. "I hope you're right.", he gave Francis a sad smile.

The helicopter soon landed. Arthur stepped out of the helicopter. He gasped at the sight of the isolated streets, the desolate buildings, and abandoned vehicles. "Mon Dieu…", Francis gasped. "We need to be very careful, Francis. According to the pilot, the infected are very enraged and they have an insatiable thirst for bloodshed.", Arthur warned. "I'll be on my guard.", Francis assured him.

They began to search the ghost town that was presently London. "This is awful…", Arthur muttered as he kicked debris out of his way. "Such a tragedy…", Francis said as he looked around. "Maybe we will find out something soon. I represent this country and I will do everything in my power to keep it from falling apart.", Arthur preached. "I would do the same for mine, Angleterre.", Francis walked closely to Arthur.

Arthur noticed this. "Good idea, Francis. We do need to stay close at all times. Danger could be lurking in any corner.", Arthur informed firmly. Francis' heart fluttered at the fact that Arthur actually wanted to be close to him even if it was because of a perilous situation. He had always wanted to be closer to the Brit and to end their rivalry, but they would always end up bickering endlessly. He should know better than to think that him and Arthur would ever be close. Francis sighed inwardly and kept moving forward.

They both stumbled upon a church. "We should look for survivors in there.", Arthur pointed. "Bonne idee! In a crisis, that is where I would seek shelter.", Francis replied. Arthur nodded and began to make his way towards the church. He pushed the door open slowly. They both entered the church cautiously and made their way up the staircase. There appeared to be something written on the wall. "The end is nigh…", Arthur softly read aloud. A chill crept down both their spines.

As they got closer to the top of the staircase, A foul stench filled the air. They instantly covered their mouths and noses to keep from gagging. "Mon Dieu!", Francis muffled from behind his hand. They reached the top and observed the sanctuary of the church. The church was filled with masses of dead bodies. They just stood there…staring in utter shock.

"Hello…?", Arthur finally spoke. He wanted to see if there was at least one person alive among the piles of bodies. Unfortunately, there was no one. Just when they were about to leave, the door adjacent from where they entered was being banged on violently. Arthur started to approach the door. "Angleterre…stay away from there.", Francis half-whispered. "It may be a survivor.", Arthur kept moving towards the door when it suddenly flung open revealing a priest with blood red eyes drooling a mixture of blood and saliva.

The priest glared at them with those piercing eyes. If looks could kill, they both would have dropped dead. This priest was clearly an infected…