Two

This chapter is…. Um…. "Different".

You'll see what I mean.

I hope.

England was walking down a busy street in London. He had his head down, and his arms crossed. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out. Looking at the display, he groaned.

"Why is the American calling me at 3 A.M.?" He answered with "What the hell do you want, asshole?"

"Hey! Iggy! What's up, bro?" America practically screamed, making England wince, and pull the phone from his ear. "Dude, I've got, like, a billion different types of booze, and honestly, I'm gonna pass out before I even make a dent in this so please come!"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No!"

"…"

"…"

"…Please?"

"FINE." England sighed. "Wait, how am I gonna get there?"

"Dude. Private jet. Do you even know me?"

"Wait, America-"

"BYEEEEEE!" America hung up.

England groaned, and hurried to the airport, where a jet was waiting for him. That stuck up, rich GIT! He thought. Getting on the plane, he realized how tired he was. He collapsed in a chair, and was soon asleep.

He awoke to a flight attendant shaking him. "Sir, you've arrived," she said.

"Ah, thank you." England got up and walked to the front of the plane. He saw only a glimpse of the New York airport before he was dragged from the plane and into a car. "What the-"

"COME ON, BRO!"

England turned, and, seeing America, sighed. He stared out the window of the car as America sped down a private road to a large house.

Okay, maybe house isn't the best term. Mansion was more appropriate. America was rich, and he wasn't afraid to show it. The house had to be at least 3 stories, with sprawling lawns and a chandelier on the front porch. Several windows showed people dancing and drinking.

"Okay, out of my car." America pulled England out, and into the packed house.

"No-"England argued, but he knew the music was too loud to be heard over. He ended up in the kitchen, where a small girl was cooking. "Erm… Hello…"

She turned. "Hm? Oh. It's you."

"Oi! What's that supposed to mean?" He bristled.

She giggled."Nothing. I know about your fight."

"Wha-"

"Honestly, France'll tell you anything when he's drunk. So will you."

England pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his calls, and found a number he didn't recognize. He looked up at the smirking girl.

"I'm Sicily, by the way." She held out her hand. When England didn't take it, she shrugged, and put the dough she had been kneading in the oven. "I'll help you," she said, back turned.

"You- You'll help?" England smiled. "I don't need a little girl's help-"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sicily shoved a knife below his throat, still grinning. "What was that, stupido inghilterra?"

"Erm… Thanks... for... Helping…?" England gulped.

Sicily grinned, and pulled the knife back. "Good. Now, explain what happened. Every detail. Drunk you doesn't like to elaborate."

As England told the young Italian everything, the smell of baking bread wafted from the oven. She pulled it out, and held up a finger to stop England's story.

"Come." She walked into the packed living room, and tossed the loaf of bread at America. "THERE YOU GO, DOUCHE! ENJOY YOUR PAIN!" The bread clunked America on the head, and he turned, fuming.

"SICILY, GOD DAMN IT!" America screamed, and then started shoving toward them.

"Run?" England asked.

"Run." Sicily grabbed his elbow, and pushed her way out of the room. She raced up a flight of stairs, dragging England behind her. She scanned the hall, and started towards a window.

"Oh no. We are NOT climbing out a window." He pulled his arm out of her grip.

"Fine. Deal with a pissed, drunk America then, stupido inghilterra. Not my problem." She opened the window, and jumped out.

England rushed to the window, and saw her land in America's pool. He heard a loud crash, and decided to jump. He climbed onto the windowsill, and jumped. He screamed the whole way down.

"WHAT THE HELL, ENGLAND?" America screamed, watching as he plummeted into the pool.

"Shit we gotta go come on!" Sicily yelled, hauling England out of the water. She broke off in a run, heading for the forest. She disappeared into the trees, and England followed.

The hell am I getting myself into? He thought, sprinting for the cover of the forest.