"What are you talking about?" Russia asked softly.

There were a few officers in front of the cell. They were speaking lowly, ignoring him as they spoke to his boss. He did not like the murmuring; he knew they only did it so that he could not hear them. Russia understood that this meant that the conversation was about him, and it was bad news.

He saw one of the officers open his black-gloved hand to reveal a cleaned eye to his boss. One made of solid materials with a violet-coloured iris just a shade off from Russia's true eye colour. Upon sight of it, Russia unconsciously touched the cloth of the black eye patch that covered the gaping hole of his missing left eye. With his hand holding one side of his face, he watched them in concern as they discussed what he was sure to be the answer to what the fake eye served.

He had not minded that the eye had been taken. He feared the reason they both were in his head, although the conversation in front of him that he was discluded from was striking him a hard blow of fear.

"What is it?" His tone rose into a higher one.

Then he caught a snippet of dialogue that caused him to freeze.

"Everything that he sees and hears, someone else can."

What?

His boss muttered quietly in continuation. Russia began to shiver.

"Please!" Russia felt fear encroaching on his heart. "What's happening?"

Another thirty seconds of being ignored, then his boss turned and walked up to him.

"Russia," he said, "how are you feeling?"

"Not well," Russia whispered. "What's happening? Can I go home?"

Ukraine and Belarus had visited him just hours ago. News had spread to his boss, and now his false left eye was in his raised palm, being shown to him.

"You cannot go home, Russia. I am sorry."

Russia chest felt squeezed.

His boss continued, "Your eyes are cameras. We believe they are sending video with audio live to another location. It is no longer on in this eye. The other, however…"

His boss waved at him. The hairs on Russia's spine tingled as his boss stared into his eye while looking for someone else looking back out. An air of helplessness overcame him. He felt as though he was a vessel for a demon, and that creature inside him was being addressed by his boss.

Russia murmured, "What are you going to do?"

"I don't suppose you can regrow eyeballs, can you?"

"I do not think so."

A corner of his boss's lip was tugged to the side. "Well, we need to figure out how to disable the camera without blinding you completely."

Russia nodded. After some thought since his rash actions hours ago, he realized now that he did not wish to have his last eye removed and be blind. He wanted to see, but he felt heavy coils stacking up inside him at the thought that his real eyes were gone forever. Melancholy struck him from their loss.

"How long will that take?" Russia asked.

"They don't know."

"Why can't I go home and wait?"

His boss shook his head. "No, Russia, you have to stay here. We don't know yet what affected you two weeks ago, so we simply cannot just let you out. If your eyes are causing this and you still have one, then you are a danger to others. And even if that is not the case, then you still can't go back to work if others from another country can see what you have in front of you."

"But I can stay at home-"

"I have already said it. You may still be dangerous."

Russia dipped his head, dispirited.

No one trusts that I am okay now.

"I understand," Russia said, although he hated the taste of those words.

His boss nodded slowly in approval. He stepped away from the bars and returned the eye to the officer that had lent it to him. As he took his leave, his boss turned his head over his shoulder and told him, "I will return later to check on you."

Russia's one remaining eye gleamed in the dim light as it followed the departing figure.

Denmark returned after hours of searching. He stumbled up the path to his home, trying to look away from the unattended blood painted over his lawn. Once at the door, he clawed at it instead of knocking. Eventually, Norway unlocked then opened it, and they were caught in eye contact for a few silent seconds. Denmark regarded the redness in the other's eyes, knowing that he had not ceased crying since his departure. Finland crept into sight behind him, with wide, shining eyes that were round like those of a terrified baby animal.

He staggered into the house on leaden feet. Norway pushed the door closed with a careful touch of his fingertips, then locked it. They made it together to the couch where they all too softly placed themselves down. Finland dropped to the side limply and pressed into Denmark's side while Norway tilted his dizzy head to take another look at Denmark.

The wild hair that expressed his energetic personality was drooping and disheveled. The sweat had swept some of the gel away from his hair and the wind had blown it all into disarray. His face itself was haunted, pallid, and twitching. Norway knew that there were fronts of emotions colliding inside him and creating a storm. Denmark was in a fragile state of mind, as were the rest of them.

All Norway could think about was the loss of his brother. He had so many questions, and no answers. There was simply, only fear left for him to take as he pleased. Norway shivered like the other two, and he pressed into Denmark as well.

Finland whispered, "He tricked us… He got us with that simple trick… He…"

Finland kept repeating this until Denmark heard him. Denmark looked down at him, eyes clearing as intrigue stirred within him.

"What do you mean?" Denmark murmured.

"He threw a rock in through the window," Finland spoke softly. "So that we would think he was there and run in the other direction. Sweden sprinted around the house and met us at the door. That way, he didn't need to go inside and waste time trying to find us."

"That's too smart," Denmark sniffed.

"It's just the start," Norway breathed. "It's not Sweden but… something bigger. Someone, or more people, are trying to have us all killed."

"Iceland," Denmark whined. "Oh, poor Ice… This should never have happened, and it cannot continue!"

The tears that had been shining in Denmark's eyes spilled down his face as he lifted his head and stared at the ceiling.

"I swear that with all of my ability, I will end this, and I'll do whatever I can to protect you both! We'll get ourselves bodyguards. We'll tell everyone to get guards. The cure or even a reason for the madness was not given to us by our leaders although they promised that everything would be taken care of. We have no choice but to take this seriously. Two of us are dead! We have to take action ourselves, and nothing will stop me from doing it!"

Norway and Finland were looking at him in awe, recognizing him as the small yet strong light in this situation trapped in darkness. Denmark hugged them both, and as the three of them cried, he choked out, "Because… No matter what happens, I do not want to see you get hurt. I… can't take it. I already cannot take this."

"Denmark." Norway's tone had a prick of urgency to it. "You don't know what's going on. We don't want to lose you either-"

"Nothing will happen to me," Denmark said. "I can't die; I won't let you two suffer again."

"You can't control every situation!" Finland gasped. "You can't be this cocky! You'll die!"

"I'm not being cocky!" Denmark cried. "I'll be careful. I will take care of myself so well for your sake. Please… I want to do this. For Iceland."

"Denmark," Finland whimpered, "what are you planning?"

Denmark closed his eyes, then replied slowly, "I'm going after Sweden."

"By yourself?" Norway inhaled sharply.

"The police will do their searching," Denmark said, "but I'll travel alone. It will attract less attention, and I bet I can find him before they can."

"Let them do their job," Norway uttered. "Stay here with us."

"I can't! If Sweden gets another one of us, I'll never forgive myself for staying here and doing nothing."

"Denmark," Finland rushed, "don't go. We're scared for you."

Denmark looked back and forth between them both. "I know that Sweden or anyone else who goes nuts will not hesitate in trying to kill me… so I'm… scared too. But I can use my fear to keep me safe. Trust me, please. Don't worry for me. Worry about getting yourself armed guards and securing this house. Who knows when the next attack will be, and where."

"And when you find Sweden…?" Norway trailed off.

"I'll take him down," Denmark sighed. "I will not stop until the end… whatever that may be."

"It's not Sweden's fault," Finland choked. "Denmark, you know that."

"I do," he murmured. "So I'll try to capture him instead. Get him fixed, cured from whatever is messing him up. That'll be my first intention."

"He's gone," Norway said. "So how are you going to find him now? He may go anywhere."

"I bet you," Denmark replied, "that if he's as smart as we think he is, he'll try and take out as many as he can in the shortest amount of time. He'll go to Latvia, and figure out an attack on the whole house. I thought that I could beat him there and wait for him. It's not like he'll get there before me, when he's not going to be able to get on a plane or anything."

"We already told a lot of people what happened," Finland updated him. "They're passing on the word, but I already contacted Estonia myself. He says they're ready for any attack."

"Good," Denmark exhaled. They had already done the informing that he had planned to do after this conversation. He had not expected that they would be this clear-minded after what had just happened, for he knew that he had hardly been so. The higher necessity for such things were however, taking the lead over their own grief.

There was a pause where they only cried silently save for a few sniffles here and there, holding each other and softly breathing out through their mouths. When the time was right, when Norway could sense Denmark's internal restlessness, he said, "You will stay for the funeral, won't you?"

Denmark hesitated to think, then he answered, "Should we have a funeral? I mean, inviting people and such. That just seems to spell disaster, doesn't it?"

Finland and Norway looked to each other.

"We have to do something though," Finland said. "Even if it's just us."

"I know we should bury him in Iceland, but I am afraid that I won't have time to do this and beat Sweden to the Baltics," Denmark murmured.

"The Baltics can manage for another day or so without you there," Norway told him. "You must wait. This will be the last thing we do with Iceland…"

Norway's voice went thin at the end of his sentence and his trembling increased. Hot tears were squeezed from his eyes and he pressed his head against Denmark's ribs. Trying to comfort him, Denmark submitted, "Of course I'll stay for his funeral. I could never miss saying goodbye to him…"

Norway's crying only increased, and he sobbed into him with a high whine escaping him partway through.

"My little brother," he wheezed. "My innocent, precious, little brother is gone- why? Who would be so cruel to do this to us? To make us kill those we love?"

"I'll find out." Denmark held Finland and stroked Norway's hair. "And I will put an end to everything."

Now his tune changed. Norway calmed his breathing, then spoke in a voice that was more alike his regular one except that there was a sadistic bitterness to it.

"Do it Denmark, please. I trust you. Avenge Iceland, and don't get hurt."

Denmark raised his eyes again, already imagining the victorious end of his quest.

"I will. I promise."

After this had been said, they continued to mourn until the time came to leave for Iceland. In less than two day's time, they were the lone attendants of his burial in the soil of his homeland, the place that had birthed him, and where he was meant to be. A part of them departed that day, but for Denmark, a powerful determination leaked into that hole in his heart.

From his core to his skin, nothing was going to allow him to rest until that promised end. Whatever that may be, as he had told the remaining scraps of his anguished family.

Denmark was shocked as he approached the yard to be spotted by a soldier. He had been standing beside the crouching form of Latvia, who had his back to him so Denmark had been unable to see what he was doing. Instantly he had been seen in the open and in broad daylight, and now he hollered and put his hands up as the shining black surface of a rifle was directed at him.

"No, wait!" Denmark cried. "I'm unarmed! See? I'm not affected!"

Denmark stood as still as possible to help aid the soldier with his decision. Fortunately, Latvia turned around and gasped out, "Don't shoot him! We knew he was coming here!"

The rifle was lowered. Denmark advanced carefully, trying to appear non-threatening. Latvia stood up and approached him, the soldier sticking strictly to his side.

"How's it going?" Denmark called out before he stopped in front of him.

"Oh, it's good! Everything's great," Latvia replied.

Denmark saw the dirt coating on Latvia's hands. He peeked past him in curiosity.

"What are you working on?" he asked.

"Yes, um, traps. Lithuania said we should cover the lawn in traps and alarms in case someone tries to prowl around the house."

Denmark followed Latvia to the hole he had been digging. Beside it was a pile of sharpened sticks.

"Whoa, what's this?" he exclaimed.

"Well, there's a window right there," Latvia told him, "so I thought that if someone wants to look into the house or get in, they might come here. I'm working on a sort of pitfall. I can cover the hole, and if someone steps in it once it's all set up, they'll injure their leg."

"That's really great!" Denmark proclaimed. "I'm impressed!"

"I already set up four of these in the yard," Latvia beamed.

"What?" Denmark scanned the yard with wide eyes but could not locate a trace of these mentioned traps.

It was then that Estonia showed up with another soldier walking beside him. Having had overheard the last thing Latvia said, Estonia explained, "We're working very hard on protecting ourselves. We're going to have injuring traps around the yard, and Lithuania's setting up a chicken wire fence to keep animals out. We're also going to put sensors on the fence so we'll know if someone tries to climb over it."

Denmark inquired, "So basically you're going to cover the entire place except for the path?"

"Yes. If someone wants to get in, they have to go out into the open. Then, we have some soldiers to protect us. They can shoot them if they're dangerous."

"But when you have to leave the house?"

Estonia replied, "We haven't left the yard in a while, and once the traps and alarms are put in, we won't have to leave the house. The soldiers get food for us already. We aren't leaving this place until it's over."

Denmark said, "You've got a good plan going for yourself."

"Yeah, I think we're safe. The soldiers were enough, but the rest is extra assurance."

Latvia spoke up, "So you see now? We're ready for Sweden."

"I'm glad to see that," Denmark said. "But is it alright if I stay here and wait for him? I think he'll still arrive. If he can't get in, he'll run off again. I want to catch him before he escapes like last time."

"Sure, you can stay for as long as you like," Latvia replied.

Latvia decided then to politely take Denmark inside. Estonia left to return to Lithuania and help him with the fence. Latvia led Denmark to a makeshift sleeping area, where Denmark could set down the backpack of clothes that he had with him. He was then introduced to the table, and invited to sit and have water and snacks. Denmark obliged to everything.

He sat comfortably, his eyes drifting over the items of the tidy place. Denmark looked over immediately when a new face entered the room.

"Poland, you're here too!" Denmark remarked.

"Oh yeah." Poland made a stop by the table to take a snack for himself. "When I heard about this place from Lithuania, I thought heck, I got to get myself in there! So, here I am."

Poland also had a soldier following him. As the soldier swept around to Poland's side, Denmark espied the Latvian flag on his shoulder. It was clear now that all these soldiers were Latvia's, not those issued by each country's own government. He supposed that it was easier this way.

Denmark was surprised when Poland blathered on about his soldier, saying, "So this is Gabriels. He like, follows me everywhere. I like teaching him my card games and Polish."

The soldier guard turned out not to be as stiff as he had thought he would be. Now that Denmark was welcomed and clearly not a threat, he cracked a smile and admitted to Denmark in accented English, "Yes, I love learning new things, especially languages. Lithuania and Estonia are teaching me theirs. I'm really liking this job."

"You stay here all the time then?" Denmark cocked his head in curiosity.

Latvia's personal soldier replied, "Sure. Day and night, for awesome pay. And I'm always occupied so I never bored."

"Right," Denmark said.

Latvia asked, "Denmark, didn't Norway and Finland get their own guards too?"

Saddened, Denmark frowned.

"Yeah, they did," he replied. "But their soldiers have shifts so they get changed at nine every night."

"That doesn't sound all that good." Latvia's face was instantly concerned. "I think you should tell them to get that changed. It sounds dangerous. If someone figured out the pattern, they could do something."

"I didn't think of it that way. I'll call them then, right now."

"Here." Latvia waved him over to his home phone.

As Denmark made the call, the other four stayed courteously silent. There was still a sense that they were being rude for hearing everything, but Denmark seemed to have forgotten them temporarily as he took care of the other Nordics.

When he had hung up, Latvia commented, "You care about them a lot. Why not stay with them?"

Denmark shook his head, replying lowly, "No one is going to have to suffer what we suffered again. I'm not going to sit around. To help Norway, Finland, and Sweden, I can't stay at home. I have to do something, because, Latvia, I don't want to see another one of my family get buried again."

Latvia nodded soberly in response, so struck by the sorrowful message that no words crawled over his tongue. He would not blurt out anything; today he decided firmly that he would be silent and do nothing to upset Denmark about his loss.

Four days had past since the news of Sweden's assault had reached Austria and Hungary. They were startled to hear of Iceland's death, and they felt sympathy for the sole three who had attended his funeral.

"I didn't know him well," Austria had admitted, "but I know that he did not deserve this."

"He was innocent," Hungary agreed. "It's tragic…"

They were concerned to hear that Sweden had escaped the grasp of the police, but they did not believe that they would be his first targets when they were far from Denmark.

"Do you think he'll attack Netherlands?" Hungary asked him.

"It depends which way he ran. Netherlands is close, but if Sweden took off the other way, he may just go down to Poland then to the Baltics."

Hungary said, "I heard that Poland joined them in Latvia's house."

"Really?" Austria blinked.

"They also have soldiers protecting them. Estonia wrote it on his blog."

"Ah."

At that time during this conversation, there was a knock at the door. Hungary and Austria jumped then they peeked around the corner, Hungary armed with her go-to weapon, the frying pan. The door was still locked and closed, and they gasped when another knock emanated from just outside it.

"Stay here, Austria," Hungary whispered.

She crept soundlessly up to the door and looked through the peephole. When she saw Kugelmugel standing there with a canvas and bag of supplies, she opened it.

"Hello!" she exclaimed.

Her voice had been cheery enough to assure him. Austria strolled into sight after hearing it. He looked at Kugelmugel, then greeted him as well.

"Good morning, Kugelmugel. Come in."

Kugelmugel entered and seated himself on the couch. Austria decided to fetch for him a piece of the cake he had just baked, along with a drink. While he was gone, Hungary joined Kugelmugel on the couch where two of Germany's dogs scurried up to them in order to see who the guest was. Without saying anything, Kugelmugel set his things to the side and reached down to stroke their heads softly.

Austria gave the things to Kugelmugel, who smiled nicely and accepted them. Austria now said, "It's nice to see you here. Is there anything you need, or did you just want to visit?"

Kugelmugel replied after he had swallowed, "I wanted to say hi, then paint some of your flowers in the garden."

"Oh, how lovely," Hungary nodded. "You're welcome to them."

It was well into August, yet the well-tended garden still comprised a few marvels. There was a bench outside where Kugelmugel could sit and work. He was often there whenever he dropped by, to think about art or create it. The visit was therefore short and friendly, so he could soon amble into the garden to paint in peace.

"Hungary," Austria said once he was gone. "I'm going to work for a bit. Do you think you could keep an eye on Kugelmugel? I am worried for him. He should not have been out on his own."

Hungary understood. Even if Sweden was assumed to be far away, Austria still feared that they could be surprised. Hungary agreed, also not wanting any calamities to occur.

Austria went away, and Hungary sat by the window where she had a view of Kugelmugel getting into his work. She had a book with her to ease her boredom, which she planned to read while constantly glancing up to be sure that Kugelmugel did not require her aid. This system worked for an hour, before she found that she needed to leave to go to the bathroom. She set her book down and left her post by the window.

She never saw the face concealed behind the leaves of a bush in the back of the yard. It had just appeared, only able to catch a glimpse of her departing, before its owner crept out past the cover of the foliage. Kugelmugel was so engrossed in his painting that he did not even hear the soft swish of grass under the approaching feet. To be sure that success was guaranteed, the feet did not stop until they were just behind the bench.

Kugelmugel gasped when a shadow was thrown over him and coldness pressed into the back of his head.

Hungary had just stepped out from the bathroom when the boom of a pistol rocked the air. She immediately screamed and tore towards the window that looked out into the garden- the piece of the yard where she knew the shot had undoubtedly come from.

"Kugelmugel!" she screeched.

Yet she knew halfly in her heart that her call had been in vain. She rounded the corner and froze. The view above where her book lay unaffected, was a sight that made her lose control of her legs. She fell to the ground, her hands over her gaping mouth, and her fingers parted so that her eyes could continue to be locked onto the sight despite her strong desire not to look.

Green and red mostly composed the scene. Grass spotted with the cheery colours of flowers were speckled with blood, blood that increased in amount closer to the bench where Kugelmugel was bent over his canvas. He was not looking at his partially completed work however. Only thick, nearly black blood dripped out from the remaining half of his blown-out head to soil the painting.

Hungary was at such an angle that she could see the chunky mess of hair, brain, and skull. She cried out shrilly behind her hands as she rose and backed away from the window. Her heart pounded as all of the dogs in the house harmonized into a chorus of urgent barks.

Shot! her mind cried. Someone shot him- they're in the yard. They have a gun!

She knew she had to call for help. She jumped away from the window, hurrying to find the nearest phone.

Sweden? No… that's too far away! There's no way that he could have gotten here so fast… It must have been someone else! But… who?

Austria?

It had been an hour since she had seen him. She had heard that it had only taken twenty minutes to affect Sweden.

No! Not him! she internally screamed.

She ran through the hall. She heard a door up in front of her open, and in the next moment, a figure leapt out into the hall. It grabbed her, and she hollered and fought to free herself from the hands holding her arms. Then came a crying from the other as she beat him madly.

"It's not me! Hungary, stop!"

Hungary ceased her aggressive attempt once she saw that Austria was not attacking her. He stared at her with a pale face and a quaking body. One dog sprinted to them, still barking in alarm. He was ignored as Hungary looked over Austria and saw how deathly afraid he was. He came up to her and held her arms again, seeming to need something to grasp.

"Kugelmugel!" Austria's eyes shone with tears. "Hungary, I told you to watch him!"

"I'm sorry," she squeaked. "Oh no, Austria, I-"

"He's dead, isn't he?" Austria wailed. "That sound w-was- Kugelmugel was shot!"

Hungary clutched Austria's warm face.

"We have to get help."

Austria nodded weakly in response. She let him go and took the lead in the race to the home phone back in the living room. She stumbled around another frightened dog before bursting into the room in front of an opened window. Hungary did not see the figure crouching in wait on the lawn before the glass was blown apart and the rattle of a machine gun drowned out all sound.

Austria's scream was not heard as Hungary's body jerked as though in an obscure dance. When she fell, the shots ended. Austria stood frozen where he was, his mouth wide and eyes huge as he choked on his own breath.

"H-H-Hun…"

She stirred in her growing puddle of blood. She raised her eyes to look at Austria with red leaking from the corners of her mouth.

"Don't come over here," she whispered with the faint strength of life still in her. "Hide, Austria. Sw…"

She started to drag herself across the carpet towards him. A dog loped past Austria with a high whine escaping him, hurrying to Hungary. Aster went to sniff her, but then a growl deepened in his throat as he stared out the window at something Austria could not see. The dog skittered away with a yelp a second before a quick spurt of bullets zipped by the spot it had just stood. The golden retriever raced by Hungary to the safety in the hall beside Austria, where he regained composure and began to growl again with his tail raised.

Austria bent down and took hold of Hungary's wrists. He started to drag her towards him, but stopped when she shrieked in pain.

"Go, Austria!" she groaned. "Please, he's coming!"

Austria cried, "I won't leave you!"

He pulled her out of the living room and quivered from the strain of lifting her up to her feet. He held her as he waddled backwards, letting her lean against him and her heels drag across the carpet. Blood soaked him, hot and metal-scented. Austria whimpered words of reassurance into her ear, about the help they would get and the hospital she would go to soon if she just held on- which he knew she would.

"Austria," Hungary panted. "It's Switzerland."

"Switzerland?" Austria coughed.

Aster broke out into snarls. Through the hole of the large window, the long barrel of the machine gun poked through first then was followed by the body. He snapped his head in the direction of the dog before it lunged for him. Switzerland caught sight of Austria dragging Hungary away before he threw himself to the side and dodged the muscular mass hurling itself at him with an open mouth. Sharp teeth clacked together as the dog bit the air, then he landed and turned to Switzerland with fur bristling as though electrified.

Switzerland aimed the gun at Aster when Berlitz, Germany's Doberman, tore down the hall and met him. He was felled with the jaws of Berlitz clamped deeply into his arm. He did not scream in pain. Switzerland regarded the dog with blazing eyes before he smashed him in the head with the butt of the gun. The first strike did nothing, and the dog clung determinedly to him while growling savagely. The Doberman shook his head side-to-side, tearing Switzerland's flesh further in an attempt to make him yield.

Yet Switzerland still did not react to it. His pupils constricted in rage from being held down. He glared down the hall then back to the dog. He released the machine gun to reach for the pistol strapped to his hip. This way, he could turn his arm and be able to point the gun at the dog's head.

Austria yelled out in horror. Berlitz's eyes gleamed and he jumped off Switzerland before the gun fired. The dog was stunned by the sound, and Switzerland leaped up and kicked him powerfully in the ribs. Berlitz yapped then crumbled, and now Aster flew into the action, a single bark of fury flying out from him. Switzerland swiftly kicked him in the chest, his foot cracking his ribs. All became so silent after Aster hit the ground. The two dogs lay hurt with their flanks heaving in rocky breaths, their paws twitching helplessly.

Switzerland looked back to the hall, but Austria and Hungary had disappeared. He hissed through his teeth then ran after them. The assortment of shotguns, rifles, and ammo on his figure bounced and clacked together as he followed the trail of blood.

Austria heard the clatter of the weapons coming closer. He shook harder. Hungary felt it, and she whispered hurriedly, "Put me down. I'll pretend to be dead. You have to run!"

"Hungary, no, that won't work!" he exclaimed.

Switzerland jumped out from behind the corner. Austria screamed, "No! Switzerland! Don't!"

Switzerland squeezed the trigger of the pistol and the bullet plunged into Hungary's head. She twitched in Austria's arms, her eyes rolling as her body convulsed. Austria screeched. Then, after the cock of the pistol, and a closer distance, Switzerland fired again and a chunk of Hungary's head exploded. She was still, but Switzerland fired one more shot before he was satisfied.

Austria was left screaming and covered in gore. Hungary slipped from his arms, and Austria tripped over his feet before he tore off. Switzerland's next bullet caught him in the hamstring, and he spun then crashed into the wall. Austria patted his hands over it as he hopped away frantically. He was nearly blinded by the adrenaline from the fear of the next shot. He sobbed through the burning blood on his face, his tears racing through the globs on his cheeks. His fingernails scratched at the wallpaper, trying to push him forward every precious centimetre away.

Switzerland tore him from the wall and slammed him to the ground. Austria's eyes wavered as Switzerland crawled over him, pinning him to the floor. Austria's eyes pleaded at the same time his mouth did.

"Please don't, please, please, please…"

Switzerland's eyes did not shine oddly like Germany's. Austria's heart throbbed.

Your eyes are normal.

Switzerland put his knees down on Austria's arms so that they could not move. Austria looked up in terror at the sort of demon that was above him, who had horrible wings cast from rifles.

Switzerland did not answer him. It was as though he was not heard, but Austria knew that he could understand him. He had heard that Russia had responded when threatened back when he had been crazed.

"You hear me, Switzerland!" Austria sobbed. "So please don't do this!"

Switzerland set the muzzle of the gun against his forehead and met his eyes. He uttered in a frigid voice to him, "I hear you."

Austria writhed under the too gentle, too calm touch of the gun. He cried, "Switzerland! No! Stop!"

Fangs snagged the back of Switzerland's throat, and this time he yelped. Blackie yanked Switzerland off Austria then slammed his paws down on his head and throat. Blackie let out a devilish snarl and his teeth gnashed in front of his face. Switzerland's face wrinkled and he shouted as he fought to fend off the dog. Austria hurriedly got to his feet and fled while Switzerland's view was blocked.

Austria limped into his room while holding his bleeding leg, trying not to leave a path behind him. He ignored his bed and squeezed himself under his dresser. It took a lot of effort, and he was even amazed at this time that he had been able to do it. Austria had shifted the boxes that had been in the way, and now he slid them in front of him. Austria curled into the smallest ball he could become, and he adjusted the boxes around him until not a piece of him could be seen.

Austria heard a pained bark, then silence. Austria covered his mouth and trembled.

"Austria!" came a spitting, bellicose yell.

He snapped his eyes open and stared at cardboard.

"Come out here and face me!"

Fresh tears streamed down his face. The shrieks from Switzerland terrified him; they were so ferociously bloodthirsty. This was not Switzerland. These words were all wrong, the tone was so foreign that it felt supernatural. It was like Switzerland was possessed, which was something that could easily be believed by Austria at this point, after having seen a rage like no other dominating Switzerland's eyes.

"Show yourself or I'll kill this dog!"

Austria cried harder, little whines escaping him despite the need to be quiet.

"I won't shoot you!" Switzerland called. "We can fight hand-to-hand if you want to!"

Austria knew that it was a trap. If he showed himself or made a loud enough sound, Switzerland would shoot him on sight. He tightened his ball and held himself.

"Can you hear the dog? I can blow out its brains. You're not coming? Well then, maybe you'll get my point on the next one."

Austria thought, Switzerland would never say these things. This isn't him. He isn't like this! He doesn't ever sound like this!

The cries of sirens approached, soft for now, but surely growing louder. Austria's heart picked up. Help was arriving at last. Switzerland's cries ended, and Austria heard the clanging of his weapons as he sprinted away.

He's making a run for it, his mind sighed tiredly. He'll try to escape like Sweden did.

The sirens came up to his house. Now, Austria slid away the boxes and dragged himself out, his back scraping under the wood of the dresser. Austria lay on the floor in his bedroom, listening to the boots that soon were inside his house, and listening to the voices exclaiming as they found the bodies.

Before he was found, Austria was struck with a new horror. He crawled towards a neat bag by his bed, where his cellphone was sure to be inside. Austria sweat as he unlocked the phone and left a smudge of his and Hungary's blood across the screen. He tapped in a number, then placed the phone against his head.

The rings kept coming. Austria's fear rose and it swept over him in a wave once the voice mail came on. He had nearly passed out as the weight of all the events struck him at once. Gloved hands eventually found him as he lay there staring at his phone, letting it ring again and hoping that his call would be answered this time. Once the police had arrived however, the phone was left behind as Austria was taken from his house.

They tried to question him, but Austria was silent and inconsolable. He was taken to the ambulance, and a shock blanket that he did not feel was draped over him. He let his body be moved in whatever way others wanted while he stared forward at nothing.

There was only one thing he could think of right now. It was that last name that was stuck in his mind, sung mournfully over and over again.

Liechtenstein.