His feet planted on the ground, Romano stood still in the doorway. He sniffed at the baking tray, staring at Spain's sweet buns.

He then froze. He was getting way to comfortable, and forgetting who this guy was. He wasn't Spain, he was like one of China's cheap imitations. The color was slightly off, and he broke so easily. It was easy to spot the differences between the original and the knockoff. There just seemed to be bits and pieces that were added, or taken away. The cheap price made it desirable, but the quality could kill a few people with it's lead paint and faulty circuits. And there was no doubt that Spain was ready, and willing, to kill.

XxXxXxX

Canada grunted as his body impacted with the cement of the unfinished part of the basement. The rest of the basement was a cozy place to hole up in, with a fireplace, huge flat screen TV, and an over sized couch with fluffy soft blankets. But this little area had been saved for finishing. America had always wanted to make it a game room, complete with foosball and a ping pong table.

Instead of that wonderfully innocent dream that was never to come true, the area had been fenced off with some sort of metal gate, and Canada was it's prisoner. He got on his knees, and tried to push his way through the wide bars. Although he was thin, he wasn't quite thin enough to push past the metal fingers holding him in. He sighed, rocking back, sitting Japanese style.

He stared up at the dark ceiling, eyes focused on the shadows dancing from the single candle that was a few meters away. What had just happened finally hit him. He had been kidnapped, along with his brother. He had been taken to a normal place gone bad, destroyed. He had been tortured, and could barely do anything with his tongue, it hurt so much. And, he had watched his brother be killed. One blow to the head with a nail-ridden baseball bat had done the job.

From far off, he heard the popping of popcorn and the beeping of the microwave. The microwave opened, then slammed shut. The bag was torn open, and the popcorn was put in bowls.

After a few moments, Canada heard the now America's voice. "Ya know, crunching popcorn with your teeth is like breaking tiny skulls in your mouth." He emphasised his point by loudly chomping on popcorn.

"Yeah," Canada number two said, "It is."

XxXxXxX

Pick up the crowbar! the voice in his head screamed. Look at what that false color impostor did to your brother! He eyeballed the crowbar that was only a few centimeters away from the tips of his growled as his look-alike kicked his brother's dead body.

"I got Germany," the impostor yelled. "Did you get Romano?"

"Not yet!" At least three voices were coming from that call.

Romano's still alive! He perked up slightly from his fake-dead pose on the ground. There was a little hope. Not much of a hope, but there was some at least.

As the impostor started to walk away, Prussia decided to strike. In one fluid movement, he got up from the ground, grabbed the crowbar, and made contact (sharp side down) on the back of the impostor's blonde head.

Blood spurted out of one of the second Prussia's vital arteries. number two turned and laughed at Prussia, his smile wide and manic.

"You think you can kill me? I almost had you dead!" Two pulled the gun from inside his jacket, and aimed at Prussia. His blue eyes widened as he began to shake. The lack of blood had made him woozy, his vision blurring. He fell, dropping the gun in the process.

Prussia rushed to pick up the fallen gun. In a not-well-though-out move, he shot the second Prussia. It was not something he regretted, or would ever live to. Except when the shot caught the attention of someone.

Someone who didn't like the originals, and was PISSED OFF that his brother had just been killed. Germany, who was in a nice, open army jeep, revved the engine. He spun the vehicle around and started driving to Prussia. Prussia started to run as fast as he could to get out of there, but the car was quickly gaining. As the car almost ran him over, Prussia did a well practiced move. He peeled off to the driver's side, and swung in the jeep. He pushed Germany away from the driver's side, clasping the wheel in one hand, and aiming a gun with the other.

"Get out of this vehicle," he snarled. He cocked the gun, ready to fire.

"Not in your life, albino boy," Germany snickered. "You know, since Prussia is no longer a country, if I tried to kill you right now..." He trailed off. The car was still speeding along. "...I could do it."

German's walkie talkie buzzed with static. "Germany, do you read?"

"Yeah," Germany said into the buzzing black box.

"Spain has decided to keep Romano, most likely for some sort of sex slave, and Romano is no longer the rep. America and Canada have decided that Matthew is worth saving, so he's with them."

"Rodger."

Prussia's eyes widened. Canada was still alive. Prussia's heart sped up. His one true was still up and running.

And those evil personas had him tight in their grasp.

Prussia got angry. REALLY REALLY ANGRY. He started driving with a lead foot, doing car acrobats, the likes only seen in car commercials. Figure eights and windswept arcs were burned onto the grass as Prussia did his devilish dance, trying to dislodge Germany.

"GET OUT OF THE FUCKING JEEP!" He screeched, doing one last tight circle. As he finished it, Germany was thrown from the jeep, rolling on the ground. "Go die, you bastard." Prussia hissed before speeding away.

He started driving into the nothingness of the open field, trying to figure out where exactly Canada could be. Unfortunately, he could think of none.

As he drove, and the world started to dim, he saw a small cook fire off to the side of the road. A pink mass was huddled by it, prodding it with a stick.

Prussia, feeling manly, heroic, and AWESOME, pulled over. "Hey, you need any help?"

The pink dress clad girl looked up at him. She had soft eyes, a scared face, and a large bow atop her head. "Prussia? How are you still alive?" she whimpered.

"I am just so much more awesome." He nodded at the obvious truth. He gave the girl a once over, trying to figure out why she looked so familiar. She saw him doing so and blushed, looking away with a far off and sullen expression so like the one that that other girl had.

And then it hit him like a ton of awesome. "Belarus?"

A/N: And then there were three. What is the 2P Belarus doing out in the middle of nowhere? Why would she be there, and not in her country, where she would be laughing over the original's dead body? All these questions that can only be answered if YOU, yes, YOU, review! Please point out any grammar/spelling errors. See y'all next chapter!