This couldn't be happening.

It simply couldn't. Not again.

Denmark took a massive leap at Finland with his arms outstretched in a life-or death version of a rugby tackle. The man with the rifle noticed and swiftly pulled the trigger again, but it was too late. He did it just as he felt a blow to his side, winding him and knocking the gun he had tightly clasped in his hands to the side. The shot missed its mark completely and the bullet was buried in the far corner of the wall. Finland hit the floor with Denmark on top of him, and Denmark tried to quickly wrestle the rifle out of his hands.

"No, Kivääri!" Finland screamed with a mixture of rage and terror in his red eyes. Kivääri was his best friend.

"I'll be taking this!" Denmark gave the thing a yank, but his opponent refused to let go. Finland, having finally regained his composure, put his finger back on the trigger.

"I suggest you get off me." He hissed. "And don't think for a moment that I won't shoot." He gestured over to Sweden with a slight movement of the head, who was lying limply on the floor and trying to look as fine as was possible considering he had been shot in the stomach.

Shit.

If he let go, Sweden would get hurt even more. But if he didn't, he'd be shot, most likely in the head considering Finland's marksman skills, and then Sweden would be shot again anyway. But it was the principle that mattered! Denmark was, and would forever remain a loyal blockhead.

"Never!" He shouted and puffed a cloud of cigarette smoke into Finland's face.

"You have chosen your fate. But don't worry, you won't be alone. At least you'll see Sweden in hell." Finland laughed and took his aim. The finger on the trigger slowly pulled it, as the red eyed maniac relished the moment. Denmark swallowed and waited for the blow as he stared right down the barrel, which Finland had moved upwards with a sudden force of strength. Denmark hadn't been able to move it down towards his chest again.

Shit.


Things would have ended very badly right there and then if Iceland hadn't suddenly become unfrozen. He ran over to the struggle and with a practiced motion kicked the barrel of the gun as hard as he could. The sudden impact ripped it out of both Finland's and Denmark's hands, who sat there frozen in surprise. The rifle clattered to the floor. Iceland was quick to pick it up and aimed it at Finland's head.

"Who's going to hell now?" He growled.

"Tch. You don't have the guts to pull that trigger." Finland sneered.

"Don't listen to him. He's trying to scare you." Denmark said and leaned forward, pinning the maniac down properly.

Finland tried struggling, but found it useless. Well this was a predicament. He couldn't show fear. He just had to scare Iceland, just as he did with Denmark, and get out of this somehow. Preferably conscious.

"You act all tough, but we all know that you're weak as shit." He continued.

"I'm not weak!" Iceland took careful aim.

Finland blinked. Shit. He stopped struggling and lay there limply, closing his eyes. He seemed to have fainted. Denmark wasn't fooled. He kept him down just in case.

"Iceland, Iceland is that you?" He suddenly said. Finland's old voice was back. "Don't shoot, Ice-kun. I don't want to harm you. I think I'm back to normal." Iceland hesitated.

"Let's all go and have a drink. Eat some salmon or something. I'll crack out my best salmiakki, and we'll prank foreigners with it." Finland continued. He knew that he had him on a hook. Now all he needed was that rifle.

"It'll be just like old times." Finland felt like one of those snake charmers. His mouth was a flute that sent out hypnotic tunes. This was easy.

Iceland lowered the gun.

"Good. Now all I need is for you to get Denmark off me and we can go."

"Huh?" The boy's eyebrows furrowed.

"Use the rifle. Shoot him in the leg or something. It'll hurt, but he'll survive."

"I don't want to."

"He's deluded. He thinks I'm evil, they both do." Finland half sobbed. Crafty bastard. "But you have to understand that I'm not. They're just lying to turn you against me." He made his voice go up two octaves, mimicking what he usually did when he was flustered.

"You shot Sweden."

"It was necessary. I didn't like it, but I had to."

Iceland slowly walked towards him.

"Iceland no!" Denmark shouted.

"Don't listen to him!" Finland snapped, but quickly regained his previous honeyed tone.

Iceland hesitated.

"Who's been your friend all this time? They ignored you, passed you off as just another small country. We've been excluded, and you know it."

"That's not true!" Denmark cried indignantly. He realised that he probably should have been nicer towards Iceland though. Well, it was too late now.

Iceland finally lifted the rifle again. He aimed at Denmark's leg.

"I'm so sorry."

He put his finger on the trigger.

"Iceland. The real Finland would never actually shoot one of us, even if we were evil. He would always try to do anything else before that. Violence is his last option, but to this guy it seems to be the first." Sweden suddenly piped up. "Yes, we may have excluded you in the past, but we try our hardest not to. We love you. You're part of our family. Our dysfunctional, yet happy family."

"Tch. Look at Mr Pep talk all of a sudden." Denmark muttered under his breath, but couldn't help smiling.

"Don't listen to that bastard! He's just trying to trick you." Finland's voice filled up with bile again. He couldn't help it. The hate he felt for them at that moment made him abandon all tact.

"No, he is." Sweden said calmly from his little corner.

"Fuck off! Why can't you just die already!?"

"I've had worse." This was true. He was so used to getting beaten up that this was virtually nothing. A bullet couldn't stop a nation. But it did hurt like hell though.

"Ugh. Enough of this bullshit! Iceland, just shoot him." He growled, craning his head to give Iceland an angry look.

"Yes." Iceland lifted the rifle again pointing it at Denmark. Finland smiled cruelly at the man on top of him.

"Game ove-"

Finland was cut off as he fainted instantly from the bullet that went straight through his head. Denmark felt him go limp, and noticing that he wasn't in pain understood what had happened. He got up and looked at Iceland with pure happiness reflected in his eyes.

"Thank you." He said after a pause and spat out his cigarette, opening his arms wide. "Huggies?" He had a ridiculously happy expression, making him look like a complete idiot compared to the seriousness that had dominated him only moments earlier. It was actually quite strange at how quickly he had changed, but Iceland ignored that.

"Ew, no." Iceland scowled.

"Pwease?" Denmark did his best puppy dog eyes.

"Speak normally. You sound like an idiot."

"Yup." Sweden agreed from his corner of blood.

"Hey!" His eyes widened.

"Ugh, fine." Iceland half-ran into Denmark's warm, safe arms and was reminded distinctly of his childhood.

"Welcome back, little bro."

"I could say the same to you. Idiot."


Germany stepped off the ferry with a misty sigh of relief, letting the tourists flow past him like an excited brook with their cameras and booklets. He had come to talk with the Nordics about trade and hang out with his cousins. They hadn't really met for a while apart from in meetings, and they wanted to have a bit of a meet up. It gave him a good excuse to get away from Italy, the clingy bastard. It was cold, mid-November to be exact, and he was shivering like hell. He was wearing his usual coat, but the freezing breeze managed to slip into every nook and cranny. He really should have put on a jumper or something underneath.

He trekked away from the tourists, away from the town and into the forest that almost enveloped it. The landscape really was beautiful though. The snow blanketed the forests of pine and birch and glittered with such intensity in the low-lying sun that it hurt his eyes to look at it. He kept his eyes lowered and marched down the two kilometre track to the Nordics' holiday cabin in the woods. Well, cabin wasn't exactly the right word. It was more like a normal house, but its solitude gave it that cabin feel.


"Hey, Denmark. Doesn't it feel like we've forgotten something?" Sweden suddenly said. They were still in Finland's room. They didn't have the energy to go out, so they decided to have a bit of a rest in the two beds that were there. Finland was lying on his bed with some makeshift bandages from the sheets around his head. They reckoned he'd be out for at least a day, granted that something weird didn't happen again.

The other three were sitting next to each other, just enjoying their undisturbed company. It felt so good not to worry. Or at least kind of. Norway was still out there doing god knows what, and they had no idea if Finland was still crazy or not. Sweden was toying with the rifle, not really sure what to do with it.

"What is it?"

"It feels like something was supposed to happen today." He muttered as he ran his fingers over the engravings. "But I can't for the life of me figure out what."

"It doesn't feel like we had any plans. And if we did then we probably forgot it in all this chaos. Meh, it'll be fine. It probably wasn't important."

"I hope so."

"Oh stop worrying. It'll be fine. We'll regain our strength and deal with all our problems later." Denmark gave his hand a quick squeeze and another light kiss on the cheek. "Chillax bro."

"Mm." Sweden sighed, content. He loved and hated this man equally.


The world was spinning. Everything was blurry. Norway awoke angry, in pain, confused and in desperate need of burning something. His vision got better after rubbing his eyes, but he still felt a bit woozy. The pain in both his arms would not subside. Only fire could make this better. He hefted himself up, clutching at a chair for support, and then staggered off into the kitchen to find something that he could burn shit with, like a box of matches or a lighter. He searched the cupboards first, but finding nothing got so irritated that he smashed a plate on the floor, leaving the white shards dangerously glinting on the floor. After a while he cooled down and tried to think. Wait, Denmark's lighter! He had set Sweden alight with that thing and dropped it. Not being able to see it from there because of his blurry eyesight, he hastily dropped onto his hands and knees, searching for that lighter amongst pottery shards, ash and water.

Norway felt new pain. It was coming from his finger. He lifted his hand to his face, and could see a small cut from one of the shards from the plate. Blood ran down from it in a small trickle onto the floor, instantly diluting with the water. He cursed himself for his stupidity and put his hand back down, but because of the water it slipped. It surprised him so much that it knocked him off balance and he crashed to the floor. He felt more pain coming from his side. That fucking plate!

The world was spinning again. Norway closed his eyes briefly and opened them again. Ah, that was better. Wait, was that…?

His blurry vision wasn't helping, but he thought he saw the transparent lighter in front of him. He reached out with his arm and grabbed it. He pushed down the button and smiled upon seeing the blurred flame. Yes, that would do.

He stood back up again and stared down at the floor. Was he just hallucinating, or were there rainbows dancing on top of it? Norway instantly remembered the lighter fluid. Quite a bit of it must have splashed onto the floor. He grinned. Perfect.

Norway pushed down the button on the lighter again and reached down with it to touch the floor. The lighter fuel floating on top of the water caught alight instantly, evaporating the water and giving off a foul smoke that spread its tendrils throughout the entire house.

He laughed as he watched the floor burn. Luckily the kitchen had tiles instead of wooden floorboards, or the whole house might have burned down. Norway reached down to touch the beautiful fire, but recoiled as the flames set his hands alight. He had been touching the lighter fluid and water mixture after all. He stared at them, amazed. The pain from his arms disappeared as he concentrated on his burning hands. This was good pain. Norway gave out a slight moan of ecstasy as he stood rooted to the spot, hypnotised by the flickering fire.

Beautiful.


Germany stood on the porch of the house, bracing himself. He was good friends with the Nordics but they were, well, a bit weird to say the least.

'But then aren't we all?' He thought light heartedly and knocked loudly on the white door with peeling paint. Hm, it really needed a new coat of paint. He thought Sweden was a bit of a perfectionist when it came to such things. Strange that he hadn't dealt with this already.


Norway was jolted from his ecstasy by the knock. Who could this be? He guessed that Finland really had gone out hunting while he was unconscious. He quickly ran to the sink and doused his hands thoroughly. He needed to be able to fight without distractions. His hands still hurt, but without the fire to distract him the pain felt much more realistic. Not fun. His bullet wounds suddenly started to hurt again and those small cuts were just being fucking annoying. He threw open the cutlery drawer and took out two carving knives, one he held in his charred, smoking hand and the other he hid in his coat. He then ran with all his might up the stairs into his study and locked the door behind him. To fight against Finland with a sniper rifle was certain death.


"Geez, what's taking them so long?" Germany muttered and rubbed his cold hands together. They had been warm whilst he was marching, but now that he was standing still, the cold was starting to get to him. He debated whether he should jog on the spot or something, but decided not to, just in case they came just then. That would be a bit weird.

Maybe they hadn't heard him? Germany knocked again, this time a little louder. He waited a few minutes, but after the door still didn't open he pushed down the handle. The door was unlocked.

Germany stepped inside and peered down the hallway. Empty.

"Hello? Is anyone home? You don't mind if I just came in, do you? It was getting cold." He called into the eerily quiet house. Getting no reply, he started to check the rooms one by one. He poked his head into the storage room and the lounge before deciding to go into the kitchen. He left the staircase alone, as he knew that was where their offices were. They probably wouldn't be there on a Saturday.

Suddenly he noticed the pungent smell of smoke. He was used to it mainly from his failed cooking attempts, but this smelled different. It smelled of chemicals. Germany crept into the kitchen/dining room hybrid and was met by an almost physical wall of the scent of smoke. He wrinkled his nose at it and looked at the kitchen area.

"My god, it's burning!" he cried and flung himself over there. He found the bucket lying aimlessly on the floor and he picked it up, running through the flames that seemed to consume the floor to the tap. He filled the bucket up halfway and chucked it onto the flames that licked his boots dangerously. About half of them sizzled out immediately, and the experienced soldier wasted no time in filling up the bucket and putting the rest of them out. The process took no more than a minute.

"Is anyone home? Your kitchen was just burning!" He called again, this time louder.


Sweden abruptly stopped stroking Denmark's head that was in his lap. The lightly snoozing Iceland noticed the sudden change of movement and his eyes fluttered open.

"Did you just hear something?" He grumbled.

Denmark's head perked up. "Yeah. It sounds like somebody's out there."

"Norway?" Iceland eyebrows furrowed themselves quizzically.

"No, it sounded like someone else…." Sweden paled. "Now I remember."

"What is it?" Denmark sounded worried.

"Germany was meant to come round today."

Denmark face palmed himself. "Oh my god, how could we forget that?"

"I don't know, but he's here on time, as always." Sweden sighed, checking his watch.

"Fuck. We gotta go out there."

"We look like shit."

"Never mind that, it'll be rude if we don't!" Denmark exclaimed, practically dragging Sweden out with him. "Iceland, come with us. This might need some explaining."


Germany was about to say something again when he was met by Denmark, Sweden and Iceland.

"Oh finally, I thought you weren't…" he trailed off, looking at them. "…home."

He paused, not sure what to say. There was a bit of an awkward silence. Stoic people and awkward situations do not mix. Finally Denmark felt obliged to say something. He put a huge grin and offered his hand out for Germany to shake.

"Yeah, you could say shit's really been happening today! We're in a bit of a predicament as you can see." He laughed as if it was nothing and tried not to wince at Germany's overly firm handshake.

"So, what exactly has happened?" Germany asked, taking a look around the wrecked room as he shook the other two's hands.

"We don't really know." Sweden muttered. His poker face returned as he met Germany's handshake with equal force.

"But basically…" Denmark started explaining all the events of the day so far, with a few muttered interjections from Sweden.


"…So yeah, that's when you came in." Denmark finally finished his lengthy tale. He felt really thirsty after all this talking. "So what do you think happened?"

"I'm not sure, but it could be your 2p's." Germany offered.

"2p's? What's that?" Denmark inquired.

"It's like a second personality. It happens sometimes to me and Italy, and to my knowledge all the other countries too. These people are like your opposite selves, often cruel, sadistic or psychopathic."

"That makes sense I guess. Sweden was really weird." Denmark noted, much to Sweden's annoyance.

"Tch. Speak for yourself." He muttered under his breath.

"So you're saying that we've been possessed." Iceland sounded sceptical.

"I'm not sure how it works, but maybe." Germany said.

"So how do you get them back?" Iceland crossed his arms.

"I don't know. It usually stops over time."

"So you're telling us to just wait?" Denmark cried.

"Pretty much." Germany sighed with an apologetic shrug.

There was another awkward silence. Denmark was too lost in thought to break it, so this time Germany was forced to do it.

"Did I mention that your kitchen was on fire?" Germany asked. "I put it out of course." He added hastily after seeing their worried looks.

"Oh, that would be Norway." Denmark explained.

"Speaking of Norway, where is he?"


They all looked around nervously. The pyromaniac could be anywhere. A thump could be heard from upstairs.

"We should probably check that out." Sweden grunted.

"Yeah." They all agreed.


Silently they crept up the stairs to the offices. There was a trail of blood that stained the carpets and led them up into the second floor, like hunters following a wounded animal. Norway had failed to remember his wounds in his desperation to get away from Finland.

Here the burnt smell wasn't as bad. Denmark had almost forgotten how much he missed fresh air. The trail of blood was leading into Norway's office, so with a few nods they decided to check there first. Sweden brandished a knife he had just pinched from the kitchen drawer and pushed down the handle. Locked.

Norway was sitting at his desk chair, staring intently at the door handle. He had been sitting like that for a while now, around half an hour actually, just because he was so paranoid about Finland.

So when the door handle was finally pushed down, you can understand that he was more than a little freaked out.

"Stay out!" He squeaked and opened the window for a quick escape route. The snow would soften his fall anyway.

"Norway! Are you alright?" Denmark muffled voice came through the door.

"No! Leave me alone!"

"Norway?"

"Go away Finland! Stop tormenting me!" He was so flustered that he couldn't even discern whose voice it was. Just to be safe he assumed that it was Finland.

"I'm not Finland." Denmark reassured him. "It's fine."

"I don't believe you." Norway muttered.

"Right, I'm going in." Sweden said decisively, slipping the knife inside his sleeve.

"Wait-"

"Screw you, he needs help. This will never end if we continue like this."

He took a deep breath and punched the door with all his might. The thin wood splintered, and Sweden's fist ended up making a hole right through the door. He winced as he thought of the reparations he was going to have to do later, but nevertheless started to tear the weakened wood out from the inside of the hole he had made.


Norway was trapped as far as he could see. He was alone against what seemed like multiple people outside, including Sweden whom he definitely did not wish to fight with just two kitchen knives. He crept over to the window and after taking a deep breath jumped right into the snow, scampering off like a rabbit whilst trying to ignore the cold that was entering his half-burned clothes. He did not relish the crisp, fresh air. The smoke was warm and safe. It reminded him much of fire actually. But in this winter wonderland no flames could escape. The thought sent shivers down his spine, or was that just the cold? It was better than being attacked though.

'I really should have brought a coat.' Norway thought bitterly.


Sweden continued to punch the door until a hole big enough to climb through emerged. He stood aside and made an inviting gesture into the office. Everybody marvelled at this.

'Hmph, show-off. Completely unnecessary too.' Denmark thought, but still climbed through the door.

'No finesse whatsoever. Still, he got the job done.' Germany thought. 'We're quite obviously related.' He added dryly to himself and followed after Denmark.

Iceland just stared wide-eyed until Sweden ushered him in.

It was completely empty. The window was wide open, sending a cold stream into the room. It was obvious where the pyromaniac had gone.

"Well done Sverige." Denmark remarked sarcastically, clapping slowly.

"Well it's better than what you would have done. At least I did something." Sweden retorted.

"Well at least I have some tact." Denmark turned his nose up in the air arrogantly.

Sweden took a few menacing steps towards him. "What did you say?"

"I said, at least I have some tact."

Sweden grabbed Denmark's shirt collar.

"No matter what I do, you will always have ten times less tact than I have. "

"Heh, the difference between us is that I know how to act in social situations. You don't. Therefore I have more tact."

"That's not my fault!" Sweden shouted indignantly.

"Uhh, yes it is. And don't blame your cold climate. Finland is just as cold and he turned out alright."

"Are you suggesting there's something wrong with me?"

Denmark gave him a smirk. "Yeah, what if I am?"

"I hate you. You and your ugly language!"

"My language is not ugly!" Now it was Denmark's turn to be indignated.

"It is too." He chuckled.

Iceland sighed. "I'm really sorry about this. They're best friends half of the time and the other half they want to kill each other. It's a love hate relationship." He explained apologetically to Germany as best as he could over the loud bickering of the two. The German was distinctly reminded of a certain French and Englishman.

"Guys. Don't forget that we have a guest here." Iceland spoke up through gritted teeth just as Sweden started trying to bash Denmark's head against the wall whilst his opponent was kicking him repeatedly in the stomach. They had forgotten all their previous pains in the familiar adrenaline of a fight. "So stop acting like an old married couple and help us catch Norway."

They both immediately stopped, blushing.

"We're not an old married couple. That's what Finny is for." Denmark muttered.

"Sorry." Sweden bowed in the direction of Germany and quickly regained his composure, even though he was inwardly dying of embarrassment. Denmark quickly followed suit with the apology.

Germany coughed. This was very awkward. He had forgotten about their old grudges.

"J-Ja. We should probably follow." He stammered, glad to change the subject. He walked over to the window. There were clear tracks from where Norway had been wading through the snow. They disappeared shortly into the forest.

"Let's go." He ordered and without any hesitation jumped out through the window. The others followed when he had moved out of the way, with Sweden going last after having checked behind him. He thought briefly of Finland, but decided to shove that aside considering his wound. They should be home with plenty of time to spare.


Russia was right; snow really did break your fall. It was just that he had fallen from such an unfortunate height, which had gotten the poor Russian such bad injuries. Still, not too bad. Germany marvelled at this as he fell, hardly feeling anything.

"If you're cold, just bite your fingers or something. The pain should take your mind off it." Denmark suggested helpfully to Germany once they were all down and took the lead, following the tracks Norway had made. It was considerably easier now that they didn't have to wade through the deep snow.


"You disappoint me, White."

Finland opened his eyes. There he was again, that stranger. His head hurt so much he could hardly think.

"Try again. This time, get it right. They slipped through your fingers last time, but I won't allow it this time."

"Y-y-yes." Finland groaned. He was too tired to argue.

He fell unconscious again.

Finland's counterpart clenched his fists.

"I won't let those fucking bastards get away. This time they'll all feel my pain." He vowed. It was a promise to himself that could never be broken. Then he disappeared, dissolving into the night like a shadow. The only thing left behind was a faint red glow hanging in mid-air like a twisted mirage.

"I'll be back."