AN: Here's to another chapter. I hope this story is well-liked by those who read it, since not many people seem to be reading.
Iggy was Joking
Sitting on uncomfortable metal chairs behind a covered table were five countries. America, France, England, Japan, and Germany. They were all dressed more formally than they would've liked, and most wore nearly identical expressions of horrified anticipation. Each had a microphone, a glass of water, and a notebook in front of them. They gave a collective sigh as they looked on at the crowd of reporters.
Thank god the microphones weren't on yet, but the frequent camera flashes weren't much better than the verbal storm to come.
After their world meeting yesterday, most of the nations had gone home with paint stains, hesitant arrangements to meet up later, and something to think about. But on the bright side, they didn't have to see each other for another month. On the not-so-bright side, their bosses had grilled and lectured everyone. Mostly about commandeering the UN building, since their much-publicized get-together there was causing a media rampage.
The five countries currently preparing their mental defenses against the press were the ones unlucky enough to have been nominated by their bosses to quell the news storm.
France and Japan were there because they had caused a circus with their interviews, no matter how brief. Switzerland would've been there too, but he'd declared "neutrality" and holed up at his younger sister's house. England was sent as a replacement for the neutral nation, much to his horror. America was nominated, of course, because he was the one who started the mess in the first place, and Germany had been involuntarily volunteered to keep order.
The nations to be interviewed sat behind their table, uneasy about the media rampage to begin in a few minutes. Except for America, who seemed to think it was the best idea ever.
England muttered to France dejectedly while doodling a TARDIS. "You know, when I said we'd have a bloody press conference, I was only joking."
"I know." France replied with a sigh. He turned the page of the tabloid magazine he hid behind his notebook, barely seeing it.
Japan, like England, was drawing, though he was working on a doujinshi.
Germany, frustrated and irritated, said to the three. "Would you stop that?! The subject of yesterday's meeting was your problems, and here you are with them right in front of you! At least put them away for the press conference!"
"I agree, the obsessions need to stop." America added cheerfully with a wink. "But this press conference is gonna be awesome! Dudes, we can totally promote world peace and stuff!"
Germany growled. "Nein, we are sticking with the script." He slapped a hand on his notebook. "Our governments gave us notes on what we should say, and we will stick to them."
"You're no fun at all!" America complained.
Suddenly, a bout of feedback resonated throughout the crowded room as the microphones turned on. As soon as it quieted, the reporters began shouting questions.
"Excuse me, Mr. Bonnefoy! We'd like to know who all the representatives are!"
"Mr. Ludwig Beilschmidt! Why were you chosen as Germany's rep?"
"Mr. Honda, what was the purpose of the meeting?"
"Everyone wants to know when these conferences were established, Mr. Jones!"
"Why was no one aware of this 'Nations of the World' branch of the UN?"
"The world wants to know what was discussed yesterday!"
"Mr. Kirkland, what is the nature of your relationship with Mr. Bonnefoy?"
The many questions ranged from sterotypical, to well-thought out, to nosy and personal. To prevent either France or America (Or quite possibly both) from blurting out answers that weren't approved, Germany snatched his microphone and spoke, taking control of the crowd.
"Please quiet down now. We will make our statements first, and then answer questions after."
His request, surprisingly enough considering the scavenging nature of the media, was honored. Germany looked at the four nations to his right pointedly, silently warning them to keep to the script. America, though slightly disappointed, did as he was told. He flipped his own star-spangled notebook open and began reading from it somewhat mechanically with little enthusiasm.
"We are very glad to welcome all to this press conference. My name is Alfred F. Jones, and as was prematurely revealed by Mr. Bonnefoy, I am the person who originally proposed the Nations of the World branch of the UN and the U.S. representative of the branch."
England spoke next, opting to try sounding natural rather than reading his planned speech. "And I'm Arthur Kirkland. I represent the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. That's quite a mouthful though, chaps, England is much easier to say. Anywho, our World Conferences are still a fairly recent development. They haven't even been around a decade."
France, who sat in the middle, continued. "That is correct. And as you all surely know, mon nom is Francis Bonnefoy, representative of France. Our branch has been kept secret because it was thought to fail."
The world's governments had elected to keep both France and America's speaking parts to a minimum. A move with common sense, if you asked anyone besides the two blabbermouths.
"I am Kiku Honda." Japan covered his stage fright with his usual expressionless mask, but on the inside he was blue in the face. "We proved expectations of failure wrong, and decided to reveal, ah, reveal ourselves with a p-public arrival of representatives. Yesterday, Mr. Jones made a proposal to improve... international relations. His idea was for nations to-to interact with each other more often, and he made his point very well with an example. The proposal was... was discussed... ah, it was discussed... and..."
"And it has been passed." Germany took over more strongly. "All the major powers of the world and many others have agreed to work on communicating better. Our branch will be having monthly meetings from this point onward for an uncertain amount of time to oversee progress. No, we will not be publicizing what happens during the meetings."
He took a deep breath. Just looking at the crowd of vultures in front of them was making him angry.
"We will now take one question each. Once we have answered them, we will leave."
The reporters shoved their neighbors and kicked at each other's feet as they jostled and fought to ask a question. One of them finally shouted out a question.
"Mr. Beilschmidt! Mr. Beilschmidt, when was your branch of the UN established?"
Germany needed only a quick glance at his notebook to recall the approved answer. He flatly stated. "Three years ago."
"Mr. Honda, aren't all of you a little young to be representatives?"
Japan didn't meet the reporters' eyes, instead turning the page in his Hetalia-themed notebook to find the answer. He looked up and replied. "Our branch, 'Nations of the World', i-is directed towards the youth and the f-future."
"Are there any details of your efforts to improve international relations that you can give us, Mr. Kirkland?"
England looked down at his blue, TARDIS-themed notebook and then back at the crowd. "We are making efforts for representatives and ambassadors to get to know each other better and we're also trying create international, cultural events for the public."
"Mr. Bonnefoy, do you believe in aliens?"
"That's a stupid question! Which publisher do you work for?!"
"Mr. Bonnefoy, do you agree that the current state of international affairs is distant?"
That was quite possibly the worst possible way to phrase the question directed at France. He smirked. "Ohonhon! I believe that a little amour between nations would not be amiss. Britain, in particular, could be a little more open to-" England smacked his shoulder. As France winced and rubbed the sore spot, he sighed and said. "Yes, I agree. And aliens are very real."
Just one more question to go.
"Mr. Jones, why did all the representatives, yourself included, walk out of the UN building covered in paint yesterday?"
America smiled brightly and chuckled. "Well that's easy!" He exclaimed cheerily as he flipped through the pages of his notebook. He turned them back and forth, searching through the four pages of print for the approved answer to give. He couldn't find it. He went through them backwards, but still nothing came up.
"Ah, hold on a second."
He looked through them a third time, and when still no safe answer appeared, he looked desperately at his fellow countries, appealing to them. They themselves were paging through their own notebooks for the rehearsed response, but all met his gaze with the same uneasy confusion. It wasn't in there. Of all the possible questions and answers expected, the obviously needed explanation for the paint was missing.
'America-san needs to come up with an answer. The public will become too curious if we do not say something.' Japan thought.
England tried to sit and smile for the cameras, while inwardly thinking. 'The bloody git better come up with a response.'
'Why on Earth did no one consider that question?' France wondered as he desperately read through his notes again.
Germany kept looking at America, silently willing the slow-witted nation to use his head for once and give a reply to the question. 'Come on, you moron!'
America stopped flipping back and forth through his notebook and took a deep breath. He let it out, and calmly looked at the indiscriminate reporter who asked the question. He was freaking out on the inside, and opted to buy time. "Could you say that again?"
"Why did all the representatives at your conference walk out covered in paint stains?"
An idea popped into his mind.
"Terrorists!"
The five countries quickly packed up and darted off the stage. They ran out the doors and into a waiting car before their interrogators could come to their senses and chase after them. They buckled their seat belts. Germany began driving as quickly as he could to the airport without breaking speed limits.
"Terrorists. Really?"
AN: Sorry if this chapter was boring, but I needed a little filler. Anyway, please review, I'd like to hear your thoughts on this story.