A/N: This is the first chapter, yeah. I hope you guys enjoy reading it (a.k.a. it doesn't suck too much, haha).

DISCLAIMER: I obviously don't own APH, so this thing is a bit useless.


Chapter I: Down the Rabbit Hole (Or Something Much Worse)

The reason Alfred F. Jones liked walks was that they often cleared his head. Inside the bases, it was all steel and concrete and boring, boring, boring. Even all the technology got boring after a while. He loved the forests, the fallen leaves and the little squirrels scuttling around.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp air. It smelled like pinecones, trickling brooks and the earth. He kept walking, his boots crunching on the forest floor. Looking around, he felt the lack of noise was something he didn't really like, but everything else was great. Alfred was a person who liked people around him, but at times like these being alone was fine too.

He had taken with him a knife and his gun, in order to protect himself if one of the Chanters showed up. The Chanters were savages in black cloaks, chanting in a strange language, disregarding laws of nature. He was taught to hate them, to either run or kill on sight.

Running was usually easier, as the Chanters seemed to have odd powers helping them during battle, mysterious weapons, sometimes invisible.

Some older friends of his said that Chanters and normal people used to live together, until a man, whom everyone called the Blacksmith, separated them because the Chanters were doing unforgivable things. There were tales of Chanters killing innocent people, just to show they could.

They were to eradicate all Chanters or the world would fall into chaos, he said. Eventually, the Chanters hid away from the world, what was left of them coming together to hide.

They were called Chanters because they well, chanted. They chanted strange words to summon mysterious powers to aid them in battle or whatever they did. It was a skill most people were scared of, and even now they were still scared, although Chanter sightings were reportedly rare.

He looked up as a bluebird flew ahead, listening for the calls of animals. I should stop thinking… he thought to himself. Wasn't the point of walking to clear his head, stop thinking? He shook the thoughts away and continued walking, adjusting his glasses as they slid down his nose.

Alfred stopped walking. In front of him was a large rock wall, a small waterfall tumbling down, but it didn't seem… convincing for some reason. The wall of rock seemed like it was flickering, which was odd since wall of rocks don't flicker.

He reached out and realized that his hand could go through the wall of rock like if he tried to stick it in goop. A little farther, and a the wall seemed to become less and less solid, the goop-like quality eventually becoming something that was more like a substance between liquid and gas.

He kept on stepping forward, not even thinking about the fact that going through a wall of rock that wasn't actually a wall of rock (chances are it was conjured by a Chanter!) might actually be dangerous.

And then, suddenly, he just lost his footing. He felt himself falling, but it was like the fall didn't affect him, as in his hair was still in place, and his glasses didn't move.

When he finally, landed with a thump on the ground, he realized that he had his eyes shut. Opening them warily, he heard voices.

"Well, do you think we should just kill him here?"

"No, England would want to know about this…"

Over him, he saw two figures standing over him. One of them had a sinister grin on his face. "Well, well. What do we have here?"

Alfred reached for his gun. "Oh no you don't," the sneering man said, and suddenly ropes had bound his hands. "Think you can shoot me, huh?" he said. He waved his hand, and Alfred's weapons were in his hands. "Oi! Hungary! Guess what I've got!"

"What is it, Prussia? I don't have time for your games!" Another voice, this time female, shouted back. "I swear it's not a game! Netted a non-believer here!" At this, a second figure appeared, long hair cascading down her shoulders.

"I thought we set the borders?" the girl known as Hungary muttered. The other one appeared to shrug. "Dunno. Guess they weren't strong enough, then." Both of them leant down a bit, so Alfred could see their faces. The man (Prussia, was it?) had red eyes, fiery and sinister, and silvery hair. The woman had brown hair and green eyes, like the scales of a serpent. Green eyes, the trademark of a Chanter from birth.

"Well, we'll just have to take him to England, I guess," the red-eyed one said. "Get up, you," he commanded. Alfred didn't get up. "You know you shouldn't waste your words," the girl with the green eyes (evil green eyes, cold and cruel) said. She used her finger to write something in the air, and then opened her palm and thrust it towards Alfred.

He felt something force him to stand up, and noted how she didn't even speak; could a Chanter use her powers without chanting?

"Well, we haven't got all day, let's take him back," Prussia said. "And the borders?" Hungary questioned, shooting him a look. "We can leave 'em for a while. It'll be okay." Hungary looked doubtful but followed Prussia anyway, dragging Alfred along.

He wriggled to get away, but her grip was iron-like and he soon stopped, because it was painful to keep moving. Prussia turned and he could see all of his face again, and then something clicked in the back of Alfred's head. "Hey, do you know someone called Lud-" but he was cut off when Hungary tightened her grip even more, and he grimaced, but he persisted.

"You look like this Gilbert guy-" This time, he stopped when he felt his own blade being pressed onto his neck. "Shut up," Hungary growled, and Alfred decided not to say anything. But he saw that ahead, Prussia had stopped in his tracks.

"He-" Alfred never got to say more than one word when he felt a sharp pain. Hungary had pressed the knife a bit harder and he felt his blood trickle down. "Hey, you can't kill me, you have to take me to that England dude first… You know, take me to your leader and stuff?"

"That's what we're obligated to do, but if you continue to be a nuisance then I won't hesitate to kill you, get rid of your body and pretend this never happened," Hungary growled, with even more malice in her voice now. "F-fine, fine, I'll shut up," he said. "Good."

They kept walking until they reached a very large cleaning, with more people in black cloaks running around and about. He glimpsed a few of their faces but looked away at once; all of their eyes seemed to glare daggers at him.

"Hey, Ireland!" Prussia shouted, and a girl turned around, looking slightly annoyed. "What is it, Prussia?" she asked in an irritable sort of voice. "You seen England? I got him some meat to butcher!"

Alfred did not like to be called 'some meat to butcher'. "Hey, I'm right here, you know!" he called out to Prussia. He turned around, a sneer on his face. Alfred wanted nothing more than to carve that sneer off his face with his knife, but unfortunately Hungary was holding it right now. "I know," Prussia said.

The girl called Ireland, her unruly red hair sticking out from under her hood, sighed. Alfred noted that she had pretty thick eyebrows for a girl. "Probably somewhere in our place," she said. Hungary and Prussia nodded, and they dragged Alfred along to what looked like a small house with a wooden door. The curtains were drawn, but he could see light coming through.

Hungary stepped forward and rapped her knuckles on the door. "England! We found something!" Alfred groaned. "First 'some meat to butcher' and now 'something'? I'm a person, guys!" Hungary shot him a sharp glare and he recoiled. "Sheesh, you guys are so…"

Before he got a chance to finish his sentence, the door opened and a man, shorter than he was, stepped out. The first thing he noticed was that he had thick eyebrows, like Ireland. He narrowed his green eyes (his were startlingly green, almost glowing in fact) and said, "How did you get here?"

Alfred looked at him and realized this person's face reminded him of something, someone he knew, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He never knew anyone called England, after all. "Well, I sorta went through this fake rock wall and fell, and then I landed on the ground and met these two," he said and gestured to Hungary and Prussia, and then continued, "who have been completely rude to me so far, by the way."

The man with the glowing eyes narrowed them even more, so that it looked like he was squinting. "Call everyone out to the center, Prussia," he said. He then looked at Hungary and said, "You'll help me take him there." She nodded, and Prussia set off to god-knows-where, but the leader (who, due to lack of a name so far, Alfred decided to dub 'Eyebrows') got out and joined Hungary, and they led him back to the center of the clearing.

In about eight seconds, a crowd of people had assembled, whispering as they saw him. Some of them glared at him with hate in their eyes. "Who was in charge of the barriers today?" Eyebrows barked. "I did, England," a quiet but firm voice said. So this is England, Alfred mused, glancing at Eyebrows. Pretty short for a leader.

When the owner of the voice, a small girl, walked through the crowd to face him, England's expression softened. "Oh, that's okay, Liechtenstein, it's only your first time. Why don't you go ask your brother for some tips? I reckon he can tell you some useful things," he said. "Right. Thanks, England," the girl said and nodded.

England then turned towards him, and his lip curled in an expression of distaste. "What are you doing here, then?" he said. Alfred said defensively, "I told you, it was an accident!" Prussia cackled (apparently he was somewhere in front) as he said this. "What?" Alfred asked, annoyed. "Knowing you people, you're probably a scout. Check him for tracking devices, England," Prussia said.

"Wha- I'm not-" Alfred tried to defend himself, but England was already doing the writing-in-the-air-with-your-finger thing and then the opening-your-palm-and-thrusting-it-for-no-reason thing. "No tracking devices, Prussia," England concluded.

Prussia shrugged. "Good, then. So what're we gonna do with him?" the red-eyed man said and turned towards the crowd. "It is better if we just get rid of him, no?" a deceptively childish voice said. Alfred saw that the source of this voice was a large man with light hair, and instead of a cloak he wore a scarf. He had violet eyes, not green, and Alfred could tell that he wasn't born a Chanter. Somehow, his appearance seemed to ring a bell as well.

"I agree with my brother," another voice, one that gave him goosebumps, said fervently. The owner of this voice was a beautiful girl with icy, sharp blue eyes and an expression that could freeze hell over. She clung onto the violet-eyed man's arm, and his expression changed to one of discomfort.

"I disagree with Belarus and Russia," another voice, this time male, piped up. He was a boy with calm blue eyes and a barrette on his pale hair. "I think we should keep him and see if we can get some information out of him," he said. Alfred grimaced at this. 'Keep him'? What was he, a dog? Well, at least this one's voting for him to not get killed.

Another voice, a heavier female one, Ireland, said, "I agree with Norway." She stepped forward and scrutinized Alfred. "I say we can keep him prisoner and see what happens. He may prove useful should the need arise."

"I say we put some bullets through his head," another voice said. He was a boy who looked a bit like the small girl earlier, and Alfred felt a bullet whiz past him, probably a warning shot.

"No, Switzerland, we should just feed him England's cooking!" "What's that supposed to mean?" "We should probably lock him up!" "We should squeeze information out of him! Torture, I say!" "What about make him a test subject for new spells?"

"Enough, you immature prats!" England yelled, and even though he shouted in a normal shouting voice (normal volume for shouting, anyway), it sounded much louder and echoed across the clearing. He cleared his throat as everybody fell silent.

"Well, I agree with Ireland," England said. "Let's just keep him prisoner and try to squeeze out what information we can. We can also keep him as leverage." Ireland grinned at this. The man with the scarf smiled, although his eyes were icier now. "I'm sorry about denying you your fun, Russia, but he can be useful," Ireland reasoned.

"No this is alright," Russia said. "If you need someone to help you get the information out, I can do it, yes?" England nodded at this and turned towards the crowd. "Belgium, can you make him a room to stay in?" he asked as he turned to a girl with short, wavy blond hair. "Eh, sure," Belgium said and shrugged her shoulders. She gestured at Alfred to follow her.

"Come on, you, I'll get you a place to sleep." He followed her, glancing back to the crowd of black-clad people. Okay, so first thing to do: devise an escape plan.