It all began when the climate changed. Everyone at the G8 thought less of it. Russia, however, knew the dangers this would pose. Only he knew how badly things would turn out if the other nations did not think critically of the matter. Even Germany, whose rigor surpassed those of others, had little concern in the shifting weathers.

As America, Britain, and France bickered on a suitable course of action, Italy tapped Germany on the shoulder earning him an irritating inquest.

He simply pointed to the empty chair in Russia's spot. From frustration to bewilderment, he wondered why the tall nation had not attended the meeting. He gestured at Japan who also nodded in agreement.

"What's with you always being the hero!"

"Well, as you can see, I got the best army in the world!"

"You both need to be more fashionable. Even a soldier needs to look good on the battlefield!"

"And risk getting shot like a sore thumb!" America and Britain hollered in unison.

Germany's hand came down hard on the table. All eyes were now on him. "Listen up, dummkopfen! Russia's not in attendance today. Although it may not be of interest to any of you, the fact that our current problem has roots in his territory makes the lack of his presence suspicious. Now, do you think Russia has something to do with this?"

There was a moment of silence before the seriousness of Ludwig's statement sunk in on everyone. Britain let go of America's collar.

"Well, he does have a point. Russia didn't even bother to notify us if he was coming or not."

"Hah! I knew that," America boasted.

"Then why did you not tell us he was coming?" France demanded.

"Oh, come on! Let go of it, already. The Cold War's over," Britain heckled. "Russia's going to take over soon enough, anyway," he added softly enjoying America's sudden glare on him.

"Perhaps we should inform him and ask why he is not in attendance today," suggested Japan. He was not ignored. The other states jumped onto the idea and began fighting over who would take up the task. Japan declined the offer and Italy had shared a great fear of the tall country. So the task fell upon Germany much to his chagrin.

He dialed in the number. There was a series of rings before the automatic voice took over.

"Strange, he's not picking up the phone."

"I knew it!" America beamed. "I knew he was up to something! I'm going to shove it all your faces when I'm going to uncover his master plan."

"Um, America… what are you talking about?"

"Come on, Britain! My CIA guys know everything about Russia."

Britain's palm met his face. "You are completely paranoid."

The doors swung open as a tattered country leaned against the door frame panting and covered in sweat. Everyone recognized her immediately. After they took one good look at her chest first though.

"Russia needs your help," she let out with wide gasps. "His house was besieged and he could not defend himself!"

There was a chorus of 'what's as the nations grasped Ukraine's news. For the first time in a long time, America felt sudden concern for his rival.

"Then, let's go!" Germany declared as he rushed to catch her from her collapse. What surprised him was her temperature—she was extremely cold. Other surprises came from the cuts all around her body.

"Germany?" It was Italy. He was trembling. "What's going on?"

"Something's happened and it's about Russia," Britain answered.

America couldn't talk. He didn't know what to do. Russia had been his undeclared enemy for quite some time. Intimidation was the closest they could get to ripping at each other's throats. But seeing the current physical state of Ukraine, he knew that something had happened and it either harmed the large nation or made him psychologically worse to the point that he snapped and did the damage himself.

"Russia may make me uneasy but he is one of us," France remarked rushing outside the door. He was followed by Britain. China and Japan followed suit. Germany chased after them, carrying an unconscious Ukraine in his arms. As usual, Italy was the last, running after his closest ally like a dog yanked by a chain.

Meanwhile, in the dark corner of the room, an apparition appeared. "We should go."

"CRAP! Why's there a mirror talking to me?"

"It's me, Canada!"

"Oh, sorry…"

"We should go."

"Right."

Kumajiro tugged at Canada's sleeve. "I'm hungry."

The manor was a disaster. In the midst of a tormenting blizzard, the nations of the G8 rushed to the open doorway. The doors themselves were held in place by the heavy layer of snow that formed around the mansion as well as the porch. And they thought the antechamber was in bad enough shape.

What shocked them was the fact that the interior of the establishment—most especially the main hall—was literally falling apart. Curtains were ripped, the furniture was scattered, potteries were smashed, a layer of snow blanketed the once clean floor of the Russia's residence, and the walls were painted with blood and etched with scratches. The walls were heavily battered to the point that there were massive gaping holes.

"What the hell happened here?" Germany asked under his breath.

The formal suits the nations wore did not protect them from the bitter cold of the blizzard that seemed to replace the mansion's inhabitants who were scattered around the large room. They never expected the cold weather to set in quickly at this time of year.

"Look!" Britain pointed to two figures half-buried in the snow. Already, he and France were over them.

"It's Russia. And he's in bad shape," Francis announced.

"So is Belarus."

Russia lay flat in the snow, his body a bleeding and semi-frozen mess. His head rested on the laps of Belarus who was also semi-frozen having collapsed from the harsh temperatures and whatever had exhausted her strength.

"The others are alright!" China hollered. Japan inspected Estonia's wounds. Latvia had formed an acute angle over the edge of a topple table. Lithuania was slumped on the wall near the fireplace.

Germany stood by the antechamber, carrying Ukraine in his arms. Behind him, Italy began to cower from both the cold and the sudden dread that occupied the atmosphere. Beside them, America stared into the battleground where Russia and his whole household had fought off an extremely powerful foe.

Despite declaring himself the hero on multiple occasions and always bickering with Russia over who was more dominant during the Cold War, he was never prepared for this kind of scenery. He didn't even know whether to help out or add insult to injury. Russia was down together with his two sisters and his three subordinates. America didn't know what to do.

"America," Germany called. He did not illicit a response.

"America!" Italy tapped America's shoulder.

"Huh?"

"America. You seem off," Germany remarked.

"Uh, right. It's just… I…"

"Come on, America! You're still friends with Russia, right?" Italy asked hopefully.

"Y-yeah… but… I…"

He couldn't find the words to follow with it. Russia was mainly an adversary but still a rare buddy. They worked together usually against a common foe. America didn't know who knocked the tall nation down and out—rebels or aliens, he didn't really know.

"There weren't many news reports coming from Russia as of late and none of them suggested some sort of internal squabbling," Britain observed.

"Not to mention the fact that Russia had no major enemies on the outside as well," France added.

Unless…

Everyone narrowed their eyes on America. "Huh? Why are you guys looking at me like that?"

They cornered him. He raised his arms.

"Guys, I'm serious! I didn't do anything!"

"Right."

"Britain, you got to believe me."

"You still send your CIA pests into my territories," China reminded. Japan's hand was on his blade.

"Hey! Isn't it you used to loathe Russia back then?" Italy asked absent-mindedly.

That pinned him. "Look… uh… it wasn't… this isn't… come on, guys!" America backed into the antechamber. "I didn't do anything! Promise! Really!"

He was now literally cornered. From the looks of it, almost everybody wanted to pounce. He was about to ball his fists when Ukraine spoke.

"It wasn't… America. It was…"

"Me." The voice was otherworldly and sent a chill down their spines.

Not far off in the distance, a figure emerged. It looked as though he had materialized from the snow. But the gray shape began walking towards them. America stood in the antechamber, Germany, Ukraine, and Italy behind him. Britain, France, China, and Japan eased by the entrance to the main hall.

The mysterious stranger stopped twenty meters away from the porch. His battle-worn cloak flew in the wind showing the ripped edges that war had constantly left. A streak of light glistened off his hand making Japan draw his blade.

The man smirked and let out an ethereal laugh that echoed all around them. It was enough to raise the hairs on Italy's back, making him hide behind France whose face was solemn and stance adamant.

"Who are you?" Britain demanded.

"General Winter…" Ukraine replied, trembling and succumbing once more to the darkness.

"I knew it," Francis whispered.

"You know him?" Britain asked.

"Napoloen's campaign."

"A disastrous campaign," Germany echoed. "no different from Operation Barbarossa."

America could feel the General smirk once more.

Italy started to panic. "What's going on? Who is that guy, Germany?"

General Winter turned around and disappeared into the distance. Dead air followed.

"Whoever you are and whatever it is you've started, you're not going to win!" America declared.

A dark chuckle was his reply.