...
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Making Plans
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Norway looked up, his face all stoic once again although there were a certain amount of suspicion visible there in his dull blue eyes that weren't there previously, like the sneeze had somehow revealed some sort of vital piece of information to him, or at least that's what it looked like to the somewhat feverish and bedridden Iceland, who somehow expected it to have something to with the Dane that had been bothering them a bit earlier.
"Big Brother's annoying," Norway finally said, deadpan.
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"What's this talk that I'm moving in with you, you wanker?" Northern Ireland inquired, sounding rather annoyed, directing his question towards Ireland.
"England decided to go missing and left us all his land to divide equally," Scotland supplied, causing the other nation to whip around and look at him instead, glaring.
"Well, last time I checked I were a bloody country of my own so why the Hell should I have to go live with that wanker?" Northern Ireland hissed, pointing at Ireland, who merely huffed at this. "I am independent."
"Because you're a part of the same landmass?" Wales jokingly asked.
"So are you, Scotland and England and it isn't like you share a bloody house now, is it?" Northern Ireland bit back before starting to raid the fridge in order to find something to calm his nerves.
Scotland and Wales exchanged a look.
Ireland coughed. "Look," he then said. "We all know that the states that are part of the UK are all bickering like some old married couple... or quartet maybe but that's beside the point. The point being? England, doubling as a representation for the UK, is gone and hence so is the UK."
Scotland and Wales exchanged another look.
"So either one of us three remaining parts of the UK has to step up as the UK representative or the union is to be considered void?"
"How the Hell am I supposed to know? It isn't like these things happen every day after all... Still, I would assume that it's likely so."
"..."
"Any volunteers?"
"No," Scotland replied, deadpan. "My paperwork is bad enough already."
"No," Wales agreed. "I agree on the paperwork part and besides I've never really liked the big city life to begin with so going to London is a big no no..."
"I'm not doing it," Northern Ireland snarled. "I have enough problems back home already..." saying this he gave Ireland another glare.
"Well it isn't like I'm doing it so one of you obviously has to," Ireland replied. "Besides, I'm Irish and not even a part of the UK so hah!"
"Then how the Hell are we supposed to solve this?"
"Then force England to come back and the problem is solved," a voice spoke all of a sudden and the four nations in the room startled before spotting Hong Kong standing behind them, wearing his usual stoic expression.
"When the Hell did you get there?" Northern Ireland spat out, still not completely recovered from the surprise.
"A while ago," said nation flatly replied, stepping further into the room. "You were noisy."
"Still they're less noisy than the ones in the living room, eh?" a disembodied voice spoke soon afterwards, belonging to Canada who suddenly materialized as if out of thin air, hugging his pet polar bear close to his chest while greeting the other nations with a smile. "Hi, I'm Canada," he said, answering the unspoken question regarding his identity.
"We know who you are," Scotland replied. "Don't mistake us for England."
Canada smiled rather happily at this.
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Denmark and Prussia were in a bit of a pickle, since even if one of them was the self-proclaimed awesomeness of the world neither of them knew how to get Norway to England when said nation wasn't interested in the slightest to comply as it would mean leaving a sickly Iceland's side.
Finally, after having made up and discarded maybe a dozen plans, Prussia finally turned towards the Dane, quirking an eyebrow.
"Hey, dude... what's Norway's weakness?"
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Norway's weakness turned out to consist of two things; his strange floating hair curl and Iceland. The latter was pretty much given, but the former proved to be somewhat of a surprise to Denmark at least while Prussia had merely laughed and said that the Italian brother's had something similar.
Although Prussia neglected to tell the Dane exactly what it was, said Dane found a great amount of amusement in seizing the curl while Prussia distracted Norway with holding a noticeably unimpressed Iceland hostage, and Denmark then found an even greater amount of amusement in twirling the stray curl between his fingers while the slighter Norwegian let out a gasp, his face turning a bit flushed while he struggled fruitlessly in Denmark's tight hold.
"Gosh Nor, why didn't I find this out earlier? I could've had so much fun with this," the Dane laughed while giving the curl another tug, tightening his grip as the other sagged against him, trying but failing to either curse him or summon that troll of his to beat him up.
Iceland meanwhile, watching his naturally stoic brother in such a predicament, felt a sudden urge to kill or otherwise maim the Dane responsible for it and even in his somewhat weakened and feverish state he proceeded to do so, but not before delivering a well-aimed uppercut into the chin of an unsuspecting Prussia.
He then proceeded to deliver a kick to said former nation's vital regions while he was at it before using whatever remained of his sudden adrenaline kick to charge at a surprised Denmark, kicking him in the shin (because he couldn't get a clear shot on the vital region and didn't want to hit Norway by accident), causing him to let go of Norway's... whatever-that-was and caught his heavily breathing brother as he collapsed forward.
Having gently lowered his brother to a sitting position on the floor Iceland took a brief break to breathe before moving on with accomplishing his main objective, which turned out to be to deliver yet another kick to someone's vital regions. Namely Denmark's.
"Man, he got you good," Prussia stated, rubbing his sore chin as the Dane doubled over in pain, cursing in Danish.
Iceland meanwhile, having burned out most of his energy in heroically saving his brother from Denmark's clutches, collapsed into a sitting position next to Norway, who had yet to recover fully from whatever the Dane had done to him. Iceland suddenly realized that he couldn't do this alone.
"Swe! Fin! Russia! Anyone!" he hoarsely shouted out, straining his voice as much as possible. "Den and Prussia's doing inappropriate things to me and brother Nor!"
Prussia and Denmark stared at each other, horrified, before getting a look of great determination as they moved forward in Iceland's direction, clearly with the intention to silence the witness.
Iceland's words however had seemingly brought Norway out of whatever daze he had been in and he sat up a bit straighter, giving Denmark a death glare, shakily getting to his feet, swaying just a bit before gaining proper footing. Then he started muttering up words in some ancient language, likely old Norse, while a sudden green mist started appearing next to him.
"Oh shit," Denmark muttered. "He's about to sic the troll on us..."
Prussia, in all his awesomeness, simply stared at the display, fascinated.
Then rushed steps were heard outside the door and soon afterwards the door was kicked open, revealing a faucet-wielding and serenely smiling Ivan Braginskij.
"You called?"
At the sight of Russia himself Prussia immediately went white as a sheet, instinctively taking a step backwards as his eyes started looking for potential escape routes.
Denmark on the other hand had his attention on Norway, who looked outright vicious, so the Dane barely even noticed Tino stepping out from behind the menacingly smiling Russian with a rifle in his hands, eyes looking about the same colour as Ivan's and very, very cold and menacing. It was at this point that Denmark realized that there was a slight possibility that his life might be forfeit.
When Sweden suddenly appeared from behind and caught his head in a death grip his slight hunch turned to an almost-certainty.
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It was a fairly undignified position that they found themselves in, Denmark and Prussia, all tied to a pair of kitchen chairs while facing their not-at-all friendly-looking capturers, waiting and dreading the interrogation that was likely ahead of them, likely involving a certain degree of physical violence and torture if the rather cheerful look on Russia's face was anything to go by, as said nation looked disturbingly much like a child on Christmas.
It also didn't help of course that Mister Santa Claus himself, Finland, sweet little Tino, stood by his side having the same kind of menacing look in his eyes as he'd had during his wars with Russia, except this time it was directed elsewhere, at them, promising them a lot of pain.
Sweden also levelled them with a rather cold glare before ushering a wildly protesting and camera-waving Sealand away from the scene while said not-nation (turned acknowledged nation by England, but then again he didn't know that yet) complained about being left out of the loop and whatnot.
Iceland had also wanted to stay for the untraditional court proceedings, if they could be referred to as such, but Norway steadfastly refused, nearly forcefully dragging him back up to bed, berating him somewhat about having participated in strenuous activities such as attacking people's vital regions and continued fussing over him in that selfsame borderline creepy but still brotherly way. It was a bit embarrassing and a bit comforting in a way and Iceland lay down to rest, comforted by the fact that at least it wasn't Russia in there... or any other nation for that matter. Financial assistance or no.
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"So basically..." Denmark started, looking around at the stern faces of Finland and Sweden as well as the still-smiling face of Russia. He faltered slightly. "So basically this was all Prussia's idea so please don't f-ing kill meeeeee!" he finished, squirming in his seat. "He's the one who told me to bring Norway over to England's place!"
Prussia, also tied to a chair, looked at his drinking buddy, eyes narrowed.
"Damn you, traitor!" he snarled, somehow managing to kick the Dane in the shin. "I told you to bring your dysfunctional family over to England's house! I never explicitly told you to abduct Norway and I never told you to start messing around with his... with his..." Prussia cut off suddenly, clamping his mouth shut.
"Mess around with Norway's what?" Finland asked, pulling off a face which could nearly compete with a Russia in kol-kol-kol mode.
Even Sweden inched away from him somewhat.
"What did you need comrade Norway for anyway, да?" Russia curiously asked, still armed with his faucet pipe, tilting his head to the side slightly to the side. "Won't you all become one with me instead, да?"
"Pass," all present nations automatically replied while the only non-nation, namely Prussia, grumbled something under his breath.
"No seriously," Finland spoke up, quirking an eyebrow at the tied-up pair. "Why on Earth did you decide to try and abduct Norway?"
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One tedious and fairly complicated explanation later Finland stood up straighter, eyes alit with a strange sort of eagerness. "Okay, then what the Hell are we waiting for?" he said cheerfully. "Let's go to England, all of us."
Sweden stared at him in disbelief while Russia let out a somewhat deranged giggle. "Why?" the Swede finally grunted out.
"Isn't that obvious?" Finland snorted, making his way upstairs. "You didn't let me come along for most of those Viking raids back in the days so it's only fair that I'm allowed to raid England now since it is a golden opportunity."
"Now that you say it," the newly freed Dane said, sounding rather thoughtful. "Finn didn't participate much at all, not even in your travels down to the far east..."
Sweden grunted, muttering something barely audible but Tino twitched slightly as he was still able to distinguish a quite clear "wife" uttered in there somewhere. Probably something about having the "wife" stay home to watch the house or something like that.
"We're divorced since 1809," Tino said, turning around and looking the man in the eye without even an ounce of fear. "You yourself signed the papers on September the 17th in Fredrikshamn."
"Oh, I remember that," Ivan cheerfully reminisced. "I suppose that day could be counted as the anniversary of our wedding."
Tino turned to Ivan. "And I suppose that the sixth of December would be the anniversary of our divorce then, wouldn't it?"
"I was so busy back in 1917 so I just had to let you go for a while," Ivan said, tilting his head to the side, still smiling. "Say Tino, let's get remarried, да?"
The Swede almost growled at this.
"Thanks for the offer but no thanks," Tino responded with a shrug and a slight smile. "I've found that I kind of like being single."
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Convincing Norway to come along proved to be fairly difficult, but not at all as difficult as expected when Tino, who apparently knew everybody's secret desires since he was also Santa, said to his fellow Nordic that invading England's territory was an absolutely marvellous idea since the representative himself wasn't "at home" at the moment, and that there would likely be an opportunity to raid and thereby get enough money to pay off Iceland's debts since the collapse of his national banks (but then again, one of the main countries that he were supposed to offer a refund to was no longer at work, so paying off whatever Iceland owed the Netherlands should certainly be enough) and possibly even boost all of their economies a bit if they were lucky, following which Norway was all into the plan on raiding England.
Prussia, already quite on the clear with the fact that the Nordics had little or no intent to help out in terms of finding England at the moment, found himself oddly satisfied with tagging along for their planned raid over in England, even if he did have to suffer the company of Russia on the way there.
Oh well; it had been a while since he'd been able to wreak some havoc so this opportunity was as good as any, eh?
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