Well, looks like I got another review. To be honest, these have to be the longest reviews I've ever gotten, I just wish they were written with happy feelings. Of course, if I mention anything, it'll probably cause worse backlash, so I'm just going to skip to the story.

Oh boy, 2p!Japan time. I've never written 2p!Japan before.

September 1940

The party is in full swing. White-clothed tables sat surrounded by laughing people as beer and wine-filled glasses circled around on trays as waiters went about their business, serving the soldiers and the many beautiful women who had attended the celebration. "Der fröhliche Wanderer" played over the speakers. Germany had thrown this party to celebrate the signing of the Tripartite Pact.

At a white table, Germany was conversing with his ally, Japan. Japan was a tall, thin man with onyx-black hair, serious red eyes, and a stiff posture that rivaled Germany's own. He was a rather attractive man, but he scowled far too often. To the party, he wore his usual military attire: the Japanese Imperial Navy uniform. The golden buttons and epaulets contrasted nicely with the black fabric. Along with it, he had worn a purple cape and white gloves. At his hip, a katana was sheathed. He rarely went anywhere without it. Germany himself was simply wearing his green SS uniform, the Iron Cross proudly on display at his neck.

"So, you call this signing the 'Tripartite Pact', yet I fail to see our third ally." Japan's voice lacked emotion entirely.

Oh, this had been the moment Germany had been dreading. He glanced over to where Italy was sitting on the other side of the room, flirting with a group of four or five women at once. He, too, was wearing his military clothing, a brown Italian Brigade uniform. He knew Italy and Japan didn't have a good past, but this alliance hadn't really been his choice. Still, if he wasn't careful, this could go far South very fast. One of the girls pressed a kiss to Italy's cheek as he poured another glass of wine.

"Yes," Germany said, clearing his throat. "I have found us a new ally."

Japan seemed to have caught the direction his gaze was turned and his eyes flicked over to Italy for a second. "It is certainly not the obviously suspicious character over there, is it?"

Germany flinched at the steel in Japan's voice. He frowned slightly, looking back at Japan as he mustered up all the courage he had. "He... he is."

Smack!

Germany's head snapped to the left, his right cheek stinging from the blow dealt by the back of Japan's right hand. He rubbed the area, wincing as he met the island Nation's gaze again. "Alright," He said. "I suppose deserved that."

"What were you thinking?" Japan snapped, his words sharp. "Italy cannot be trusted."

"I know, I know, but he's strong." Germany bargained. "His army could make a great contribution to our conquering of Europe."

Japan's gaze remained level and deadly. "Italy is also lazy and temperamental."

"Can't you both just get along?" Germany finally snapped. He was tired of everyone around him disagreeing and him getting caught in the crossfire. "I don't expect you to like it, but Italy is our new ally, so treat him as such."

For a moment there was suspenseful silence, then Japan scowled at him. "You are making a mistake, Germany. But I will allow your foolish alliance to exist for now. However, when he betrays us, you will pay for the damages he causes to both of us." And with that ominous threat hanging in the air, Japan stood up and walked off, leaving Germany alone with a red mark on his cheek.

Germany sighed. "Am I the only one with a level head?"

Sometime during the Sixteenth Century

Italy had heard the laughter from not far off. Spain was sitting on the cliff overlooking the ocean, chuckling to himself about something. Little Italy was had been fighting with a wild dog which seems bent on taking his hat when he heard. He kicked the animal away rather roughly, then straightened out his clothes and stared at the figure on the cliff, scowling slightly. Signore Spain was never this happy unless something terrible had happened to his enemies.

Italy marched up confidently. "Hey, what's wrong with you, Fratello?"

Spain looked up at him with more joy in his eyes than Italy had seen in a long time. "Oh, hola, mi hermano," he said with an amused smile that made Italy's brows knit. The Spaniard looked back out at the sky, his expression content. "Let me give you some advice: don't get too attached to life as it is now."

Italy crossed his arms, even more confused than before. "Why do you say that, eh?"

Spain didn't look up but chuckled all the same. "You'll see soon enough."

And not long after, Italy understood perfectly. Ever since France had been brutally defeated after his attempted invasion, no one had dared to cross Italy... until he saw the Austrian armies marching across his fertile fields, burning things down as they went. In the end, Italy just wasn't strong enough. His land was claimed, and finally, he realized why Spain had been laughing: he'd signed a deal with Austria. Now, Southern Italy, Italy's brother, belonged to him. Not that Italy minded being rid of the twit, but it still ticked him off that he'd been outsmarted by a piano-playing aristocrat who read fortunes for a living!

At the moment, Italy was shifting uncomfortably in his new attire, a rather feminine dress, apron, and kerchief. Did Austria think he was a girl? No, he was sure the pervert got some kind of twisted joy out of making him uncomfortable. Said pervert was currently gloating about his victory.

"You thought you were invincible, didn't you?" The tall man leaned over Italy's small form with his hands on his hips, his mouth twisted into a sharp-toothed smile. Italy glared back at the towering aristocrat, refusing to dignify his question with an answer. He had hated Austria from the moment he'd laid eyes on the man. He had long, red hair tied back with a pristine blue bow, and his sharp blue eyes were magnified by the wire-framed round spectacles that sat perched atop his pointed nose. His lips were thin and his skin was ghostly. He looked as if he didn't eat nearly as often as he should. His attire was a dark red, giving off a sort of occult-vibe. Around his neck, he wore a spotless white ascot, which only added to the air of arrogance he carried everywhere he went.

Realizing Italy wasn't going to respond, Austria continued. "Here's how it's going to work. You belong to me: Austria. Your only job is to serve me like the servant you are." He leaned forward, his nose almost touching Italy's. "Do you understand?"

Jeez, did this man understand anything about personal space? He would teach Austria to call Italy a servant! Unfortunately, the childish punch he had thrown at Austria's face, just hoping to bruise that smirk or at least knock his glasses askew, had been caught and his small fist was currently being held in Austria's tight grip. The man chuckled, using the other hand to pinch Italy's cheek hard.

"They're so cute when they fight back," he said, amused as Italy's face twisted in disgust. "I should have you clean the stables to teach you some manners. Now," Italy stumbled as Austria released his cheek and began pulling him by his wrist towards one of the many open balconies in the white room. Austria gestured down at the land below, doing a full sweep with his arm to show off every part of his land. "This is my kingdom, and it will be your home for many years to come. You will learn its language, culture, and religion."

Italy scowled out at the beautiful houses. "This is not my home you jerk."

Austria laughed, as if the statement was silly. "Of course it's not. You won't be staying in your land. You will be staying here, serving me as my cute little underling." He punctuated the last three words with light tugs to the back of Italy's kerchief, which made the little Italian swat at his hands. Austria turned to march back inside, releasing Italy's hand simultaneously, causing the child to spin in a circle before dizzily plopping down on his backside.

Austria turned back around to face him. "I'll oversee all the industry and politics in your land. All you have to do is loyally obey me without question. Do you have any questions?"

Italy scowled, hauling himself to his feet. "Just one," he said. "Does your food suck as much as your fashion sense?"

Next thing he knew, Italy found himself thrown into a small, dark room, like a closet. "Perhaps a little alone time will teach you to think before you speak," Austria's voice taunted before he shut the door, and the tell-tale click of a lock told Italy he wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.

Sometime during WWII

Germany watched tensely as Italy and Japan both signed the Pact. Soon after, people cheered and champagne was opened. But the tension surrounding the occupants of the table was unmistakable. Shortly, the party was over and people began to clear out. Soon, the Axis would begin their new lives together as partners.

Germany could tell he was playing with fire through all this. Italy was very powerful, yes, but that likely came from his Roman roots and centuries of oppression. Japan on the other hand... well, he was quite a wonder. It was amazing how strong the Asian country had grown in such a short amount of time. Only sixty years ago, Japan had been closed off to the rest of the world. He was likely stronger than both of them combined, and Germany couldn't help but feel a little afraid of him. Despite being frightening, he was ruthless and bluntly honest. He didn't beat around the bush or spare people's feelings. He knew how to be efficient. And efficiency was the true German way. He felt as if he and Japan got on well enough. And then there was Italy...

From the moment they'd began the trip to their new base of operations, Italy had begun making small-talk, mostly by poking fun at Japan's past. Germany couldn't tell the status of the Asian man's emotions, but he had a feeling he was two inches from snapping Italy's neck. Germany stood between the two stronger nations as they walked, hoping to god Italy would just shut up before Japan got mad.

Why do I pick the strong allies? Germany asked himself. The strong ones always have emotional issues.

He just had to hold out until the war was over. In the morning they would be converging on their first operation together. They were going to cross the ocean to try and catch Britain off guard with a sneak attack. That would certainly make everyone feel a little bit better. He just had to hold out until then. After all, the operation was so simple, how could anything go wrong?

Alright, now, to end this chapter, I wanna put something about reviews. If you find any grammar or spelling mistakes, I'd be happy if you told me in a review. And if you have negative criticism, that's fine, but a simple "I liked this part" or "keep up the good work" can make the review seem a lot more balanced. Now, onto the end notes.

Wow, I did better with Japan than I thought I would. I'm pretty sure at all the Nazi parties during WWII the soldiers attending just wore their military uniforms rather than formal clothing.

Der Fröhliche Wanderer is the name of a popular song played during Oktoberfest. Its English name is "The Happy Wanderer", and it was played in the movie "Schindler's List" at a Nazi party. The song was actually written after WWII ended, but I chose to put it in because it's the famous German "party song" more or less.

So, I looked at the 2p wiki for Spain and it said four of his common personalities portrayed were tsundere, stoic, loner, and sadistic. I decided I would combine tsundere and sadistic. Basically, I looked at his episode speech and I realized, if spoken in different tone, it could sound much different. And then there's Austria. I had a lot of fun with this character. I feel like locking Italy in a closet is definitely a punishment 2p!Austria would use. Things are only going to go downhill from here for young Master Italy. Oh, by the way, a kerchief is basically a piece of fabric you wear over your hair. You probably already knew that, though.