A/N: Whoooaaa...so...it's been a while...two months...three...two...I don't know anymore, haha. Sorry for the long wait and the short/crappy chapter. Writers block and school work were teaming up on me and...yeah, haha.

Anyway, sorry the story's going kinda slow right now...I need to develop something since I'm just winging it but I just got this SUPER AWESOME IDEA. ...Not really, since I can't do super awesome stuff, but still =w=. So it will pick up soon AND it will also be pretty solid soon (as in, not switching POVs every two seconds). As a side note, I tried to stick some seriousness into this...so, yeah. Thanks for reviewing/following/favoriting...heck, thanks for just reading this thing =3=.

I've rambled for long enough...here's chapter 4...have fun~.


Life is Undefined

Chapter 4:

In Which the Members of the Bad Touch Trio are (Sort of) Reunited, Things Are Questioned, and Gilbert Talks to a Toilet

"Hey, Antonio, we're here!" Francis called, knocking on the large, wooden door. Loud stomping could be heard, followed by what sounded like someone falling down a set of stairs and an angry voice (presumably Lovino's) yelling something unintelligible. The Frenchman was, in all honesty, completely perplexed with his albino friend. Sure, the German man was strange and somewhat eccentric, but to go to such lengths to change his appearance was just plain insane. Perhaps Antonio would be able to clue him in to whatever the hell was going on. "Antoniooo!"

The door opened almost immediately after the second call; revealing the slightly disheveled Spaniard who was, for some reason, blushing strongly. A small squeak floated up from the ground, and the blonde man glanced downward to see Lovino; very disheveled and clinging to Antonio's leg, his face as red as…well, a tomato.

"H-Hey, there, Frannn…cis," he said slowly, his eyes travelling to the blonde's face, then to the German behind the Frenchman (whom of which was waving his arms around and mouthing words to him), and back again, "What's up…?"

Francis raised an eyebrow, but refrained from commenting on the (once again) strange behavior. "We're going out tonight, remember? Get drunk? Grab a date (as Gilbert said)?" No response. "Whatever, I'll go get the car." With that, he left; turning around the corner of the house to what the countries assumed was the garage.

"Spain?"

"Sí. Prussia?"

"Ja."

"…and of course, no one remembers Italy Romano," the 'third wheel' of the situation grunted as he got to his feet, receiving an apologetic look from 'Antonio'. He brushed it off. "So, we've found potato-breath. What now?"

Gilbert gave him the stink-eye. "Not a clue," the albino sighed with a shrug, "Do we even know where the hell we are? Like, are we even on EARTH anymore?" He shoved his hands into his pockets. "…I lost all my stuff by the way. Cross, clothes-" the two other nations blushed once again upon hearing that, "-practically anything that could've helped us contact the others LIKE MY PHONE. I mean, seriously, that thing was old, but it cost-"

HONK!

"HOLY SHIT."

Having been so entranced in their conversation (or rather, Prussia's complaining session), all had failed to notice that a car had pulled out and was now resting by the curb. The driver's window unrolled and Francis smirked at them. "Come on, come on~!" he called, "You always like being the first ones there, non?" The two other members of the trio gave each other a sideways glance before slowly making their way towards the vehicle.

Lovino huffed, folding his arms across his chest. "Fine then, you two have fun getting drunk off your damn asses," he grumbled, stomping back up to the doorway, "Meanwhile, I'm gonna stay here and solve this shit."

The irked Italian man stepped back into the house and slammed the door behind him as the car on the side of the road sped away. None had noticed the figure hidden away in the shadows. Watching. Waiting. Soon, very soon, things would fall into place. And things would finally be perfect.


"Dude, what the hell are you doing." It wasn't even a question.

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing, you idiot?"

"Um…vandalizing Germany's toilet?"

England took a brief break from his work in order to face-palm at the American's ignorance. Really, he didn't blame the poor fool since most countries of the world (save for Norway, Romania, himself, and possibly that ex-nation idiot) didn't believe in their myths anymore. But really, what he was drawing even looked like your stereotypical magic circle. Well…as circular a circle as he could make on a toilet seat, but that was beside the point.

"I'm trying to establish some sort of communication," explained the irritated Brit, "By using a reflective surface and recreating the design that was on the doors I can create a screen of sorts in order to connect our worlds temporarily. Judging by what I saw earlier, it's likely that the spell cast on the room was a…transportation incantation, if you will. I'm not sure how it was activated, but it most certainly was not created by your run-of-the-mill magic."

"And that means…?" Germany asked slowly, obviously not able to take in all of the (crazy) information being flung violently in his direction.

"It's likely that your brother and whoever else was unfortunate enough to be trapped in that room are in another world not unlike our own."

"God, not those crazy Hookers again!" America groaned, "You have NO IDEA how much trouble that caused!"

England sighed. "PLAYERS, you idiot, not hookers," he snapped, "And no, it's not the Two Players. We already have a permanent connection to their world through mirrors; no one would bother wasting magical energy on them."

France, who was still in a child's body, moved up closer to the bathroom appliance. "Are you implying that there are more parallel universes out there that we're not aware of?"

"Of course there are," England scoffed, finishing off the last mark with the strange writing utensil he had in hand and then turning to the small Frenchman, "There are multitudes of parallels and existences out there. So many that we're unable to even grasp even the concept of it at this point."

"S-So you're saying that Prussia and the others are somewhere dangerous…?" Italy stammered from his hiding place behind Germany, worry for the missing countries showing clearly in his voice.

The Brit shrugged. "Not necessarily, but who knows? They're in uncharted territory now." He then turned his attention back to the toilet and began to chant.

The rest stood in silence, allowing the information to sink in. There were nations – family, friends, and rivals – in an unknown place. And there was nothing that they could do to help.


For the first time in his long, long life Gilbert could say that the scent of cheap alcohol was getting to him. In a normal situation, going out to a bar with his two closest friends would've been totally great, but now…not so much. Antonio would give the albino a sideways glance every so often, as in checking in with him to make sure he was still there; especially now, since Francis had gone off somewhere into the more populated part of the room (most likely to flirt with some hot chick/dude).

Having had enough of the non-existent conversation, the Prussian stood and began to walk off. "Where're you going?"

"Bathroom." And with that simple, single-word answer, the man stalked off, maneuvering through the mass of bodies in the room in search of the sign that marked the men's lavatory.

Antonio watched him go, half wanting to follow but knowing that it probably wouldn't be that good of an idea. So, the brunette remained in his seat, keeping a close eye on his surroundings just in case of-

"Antonio."

"WAAAH!" The Spaniard fell off of his barstool in a rather ungraceful manner, taking the seat down with him. Francis didn't even bother to hold back a laugh as Antonio stood. Well, so much for being cautious. "Do you need something…?" Antonio asked with a sigh, picking the stool back up and sitting on it once more.

Francis sat as well. "Actually, yes," he said, "And it's about Gilbert. Do you know what's going on with him?" Antonio raised an eyebrow in confusion, so the Frenchman elaborated. "You know….he dyed his hair….and what are those, colored contacts? It's like he's trying to be albino or something."

He…doesn't have albinism in this world? "Sorry, man, I have no clue," he answered with a (fake) laugh and a shrug, "Maybe he's just going through another phase."

"…I guess, but-"

"ANTONIO, GET DAT ASS OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!"


They were in a new world, of that, Gilbert was certain. How was he sure? Well, the 'France' they had come across was definitely not the Two Player France and really, they didn't' know of any other strange worlds (except maybe Picton, but that's a completely different story). The man sighed heavily and quickly moved into a stall, plopping down onto the toilet seat and locking the door.

"Hey, Iggs, look! There's a butt!

"…I can see that, idiot. Now shut up before they hear-DON'T STICK YOUR HEAD IN THERE! THAT'S DISGUSTING!"

Those voices… Gilbert jumped off of his seat and knelt down on the floor, peering into the toilet bowl only to see America's grinning face in the reflection of the toilet water. The grin widened and the head was removed, giving the albino a clear view of a certain Englishman's face as well.

"Dude, it's Prussia!"

"Prussia?!" Part of Germany's surprised face also appeared in the water. "Brother?!"

The German and the American were then pushed away as Britain stuck his head in. "Prussia, is there anyone else there with you at the moment?" The albino nodded dumbly, not quite processing what was happening. Was he really talking to someone through a toilet? "Go get them. Now, while the connection still lasts."

"ANTONIO, GET DAT ASS OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!"


A/N: Again...sorry...hopefully the next update will be quicker and less...blegh. Anyway, 'til then.

TBC