It had been easy enough to locate a cassette player, one of Veneziano's merchants was more than happy to supply them with one. Spain and Veneziano had carried it to the remains of one of Romano's old cottages he'd kept on the outskirts of Florence. He'd used it as a getaway when he wanted to work on paintings without Veneziano's constant input or Spain's enthused cooing.

Spain bit his lip as he stared at the collapsing roof and rubble surrounding the structure. There were several holes in the roof that sunbeams shone through, dappling the dusty floor and illuminating the charred shapes of blackened canvases and painting supplies. Spain himself was (inadvertently) the cause of this ruin. The mafia had burnt it to the ground after Romano went against them to save him when he'd fallen ill with economic depression. Romano had still been inside it. Luckily, he escaped with nothing but minor burns.

Spain picked up a piece of a canvas and turned it over in his hands. He'd never really thanked Romano for doing that for him. Spain must've meant a lot to him, even before they'd become a couple. Enough to fight what he feared most. Which is why Spain was going to do the same for him. He'd do anything to keep Romano safe.

"Ve~, big brother Spain?" Veneziano's questioning voice cut through his thoughts.

"Yes, Ita-chan?" He dropped the canvas and walked over to where Veneziano was fiddling with the tape player.

"When is the World Meeting going to be over?" North Italy did not look up from his task but worry was threaded through the words.

"Uh," Spain checked his watch. "Probably around one a.m. They usually take awhile and this one was called later in the day."

"Did you send them the note?" Veneziano succeeded in snapping the tape into place.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well then we better find big brother soon. Once they know he's in Italy, this place is going to be swarmed with people searching for him. They may not consider him as important nation-wise, but if his people were to find out he was kidnapped . . ." he trailed off meaningfully. "That's why I suggested we listen to the tape here, ve~. We need to keep this quiet. I'm sure that's what they're doing for the other missing countries."

Momentarily shocked by Veneziano's rare burst of insight, he nodded. "You're right. Hopefully this recording will give us more of a clue."

Without another word, Veneziano pressed play.

"The Boss wants to record you . . . screaming. He's going to send it to Spain so the game can hurry along a little faster. He says it'll be the perfect . . . incentive. I'm sorry, Romano." Netherlands' voice floated out of the tinny speakers and Spain's voice caught in his throat. Netherlands? Why would he do this to them? They' never been on the best of terms but he wasn't a bad person! Oh god, what was he going to do with his Romano?

"No, Netherlands! Please!" Romano sounded so . . . broken. Veneziano was trembling beside him and Spain wanted to reach through the speakers and hold his love.

There was sharp crack and then the screaming began. "Spain! God, Spain! Please help! Please Spain, ple-agh!" There were sobs mixed in with the screams now and Spain's stomach twisted painfully. Oh, god Romano! How could someone do that to him? How could someone hurt something so precious? Romano! His tomato, his love, his world. The thought of anything happening to him . . . it was sickening. Spain reached forward to turn of the tape, deciding he'd had enough. Veneziano grabbed his wrist, stopping him. And so the tape rolled on.

Another crack. "I'm so sorry! Whoever's doing this, I'm so sorry! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Whatever I did, I'm sorry! I can fix it! I can fix it! I don't want to die! I don't want to die! Spain! I'm so sorry, Spain! I love you! Fuck! I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die! Veneziano! I'm so-ack!" His words melted together into one long scream that seemed to last forever before finally trailing away into hoarse coughs. There was a sound of metal on concrete and the tape ended.

Spain simply stood there, speechless. Every word had been a knife to his heart. Romano . . . Romano had been calling out to him to save him and yet he had not been there. He hadn't been there when his love had needed him the most. He sank to his knees, tears spilling from his eyes for the first time since he had received that note. He was so useless, so worthless. He wanted to find Netherlands and strangle the life out of him. He wanted to find this 'Boss' person and chop their head clean off with his ax. But he couldn't do any of that. Because he didn't know where Romano was.

The idea of Romano in so much pain was horrifying. His mind kept thinking back to when Romano was younger and under his care. He'd been so small then, so innocent and helpless. He'd been foul mouthed and maybe he hadn't shown his appreciation as much as Spain would've liked but he was thoughtful when in counted and didn't mean half the cruel words he said. His young charge . . . hurt and with no one there to help him. At least back then, Spain had been able to take the brunt of attacks against him. He'd been able to fight for Romano. But now his love was all alone.

There was a loud crash and Spain looked up to see Veneziano had kicked the tape player into the wall, effectively destroying it. Anger burned brightly in his eyes, which were now wide open and looking downright menacing.

"I'm going to kill that sonofabitch," he growled. The younger Italy turned around and walked out of the abandoned building, fists trembling with rage. "I'm going to kill him!" And then Veneziano was gone, running with speed that matched the acceleration he achieved when running from the British.

Spain could only stare after him with tears running down his cheeks.

Xxx

The world meeting was a morose affair and Finland was glad that it was quickly approaching the end. Sweden was missing and he couldn't help feel responsible. If only he'd followed him when he left. . . Finland shook his head unhappily. There was no point in thinking like that. After all, he was going to search for Su-san immediately after this got over.

The number present was lower than it had ever been. In addition to Romano, Spain, Veneziano, Estonia, Norway, Netherlands, Iceland and Belgium, a few other assorted nations had missed the meeting. Prussia had been kidnapped and Germany was out looking for him. Hungary and Austria were also gone, but they'd called in and said Austria was sick and Hungary was nursing him. Greece was still bedridden due to his economy's current financial trouble. Russia, Latvia and Lithuania were also not present but no one batted an eye at that. Russia was often missing without excuse and in any event, he'd left a note explaining that he and his 'friends' were going out to help search for Estonia. No one really missed him.

All those nations, plus Denmark. While he certainly wasn't missing any longer, he wasn't going to be contributing to the conversation anytime soon. He'd been found unconscious halfway through the meeting in a forest with a bullet in his chest and had yet to wake up. Finland cast an uneasy glance towards the door at the back of the room. Hopefully he would wake up soon and shed light on who had done this to him.

In absence of Germany, Turkey and China had been jointly running the meeting and they'd gotten more done than expected. No one was really in the mood to fight, not with all the missing countries, not even France and England. After an analysis of Spain's note, they'd decided that their best bet was indeed Italy. An assortment of different nations would send out groups of soldiers to do a quick comb of the places where Romano and hopefully the other nations might be being held. Other groups were going to investigate the forest where Denmark had been found.

It seemed like a good plan, and Finland tried to put his mind at ease as he filed out of the room of sleepy, paranoid nations. But worry and guilt continued to tear at his gut. It was his fault Sweden had been captured and so it was the least he could do to try and find him.

With a new resolve, Finland flipped open his phone and booked a flight to Italy.

Xxx

7:25 A.M.

Prussia slowly awoke, moaning slightly. "Five more minutes, West . . ." he mumbled. "Five more minutes . . ."

A slap in the face brought him fully awake and he spluttered indignantly before realizing he was chained to a white wall in an equally white room. His captor was standing in front of him, hands resting on his hips and a hood pulled up to conceal his face.

Prussia spat angrily, rattling the chains. "Let me go, you brat! How dare you slap me? I'm too awesome to be treated this way!"

"Oh, but we both know you're not really awesome at all," cooed his captor, kicking him roughly in the ribs. Prussia gasped sharply. When did he get so strong?

"Why are you concealing your face?" he wheezed, gesturing towards the hood with his head. "I know who you are, it's not like I magically forgot you kidnapping me and you're not even using a voice changer."

Sighing, his captor pulled off the hood and Prussia eyed him skeptically.

"I was visiting Romano and I didn't want to risk him waking up and seeing me. That would ruin the surprise, after all," the other man sighed.

"Romano?" Prussia cried. "What have you done to him? Did you hurt him? Goddammit, you better not have hurt him!"

The man laughed. "Oh, I didn't hurt him. But one of my henchmen sure did."

"Spain's gonna kill you when he finds out," Prussia growled.

"Oh, he already knows!" the man laughed. "I took the liberty of sending him a tape of his precious little tomato screaming his lungs out."

"How could you? That's sadistic!" Romano had never been the nicest person towards him but, well, Prussia liked Romano. He was cute, after all. And he meant the world to Spain. Oh, Spain . . . Prussia could only imagine how the Spaniard had felt hearing his lover tortured.

"Enough about Romano and Spain," his kidnapper snapped. "I'm here about you. I didn't kidnap you to play dress up. I actually need to test something out and you were the perfect candidate."

Prussia didn't like the way he'd said test out. Staring into the man's eyes, he realized that the person he'd once cared for was no more. Something had snapped and, while he'd never been easy to handle, now he was so far of the edge there was no hope of returning. He watched as his once-upon-a-time friend shed the winter coat he'd been wearing to reveal the same fading arm he'd shown Prussia at West's house.

"I told you this is what happens to unloved nations that no one needs anymore, right?" he said, wiggling his fingers where his elbow used to be. "Well, I want to do an experiment to see if it's possible to make a nation completely disappear by using these means. Rome disappeared, didn't he? Nations can't die by normal means, but I have a feeling that this occurs when a nation thinks he or she is unloved and either has no more land, or is only a part of a whole country. In fact, this can probably be done to micronations as well."

"So you're planning on . . . making me disappear? The awesome Prussia?" Prussia asked incredulously. "Fat chance. I'm loved all over."

The man sat himself across from the nation. "You don't even mean that. You're not worth being loved and everyone knows it."

"This isn't you talking," Prussia said, putting up his usual confident façade. "You're not in your right mind."

His captor leaned closer to the captured country, narrowing his eyes. "That's where you're mistaken. I'm more in my right mind than I've ever been. Certainly more than you. I see even once great empires aren't above deluding themselves. No one cares about you, Prussia. No one loves you. The only person that ever looked up to you is dead and has been for a very long time."

"Holy Rome . . ." whispered Prussia softly before reverting back to his usual volume. "Spain cares about me! So does France! West loves me, we're brothers. And so does Hungary, though she'd never admit it."

He was treated with a condescending smirk. "You really believe that, do you?"

"Yes!" Prussia exploded. "You're stupid vanishing trick isn't going to work on me! So let me go! And let Romano go too! If you're planning on doing this to him then you're stupider than I thought you were! Spain worships the ground he walks on and makes sure he knows it!"

"Interesting how you keep drawing the conversation away from yourself." The man licked his lips happily. This was going to be more fun than he'd realized. Prussia had yet to notice it, but his left hand was starting to look at little transparent. It was clear these words were having an effect on him.

"Well, now. How about I go down the list and give you the reasons why those people don't care about you. It's going to be a lot easier than you think, you know. They talk about you a lot behind your back, I'll have you know." Prussia flinched and his captor took that as a sign to continue.

"We'll start with Spain. Now, let me ask you a question. How many times has Spain turned you down in favor of spending time with Romano? A lot? That's what I thought. Now why do you think that is?"

"Romano's his goddam boyfriend!" Prussia spat. "It's perfectly normal for him to want to spend time with him!"

"How many times have you gone out with Spain in the past . . . oh let's say ten years?"

"Plenty of times!"

"Uh huh. And how many of those times did Spain call you to ask if you wanted to hang out? It was always you that wanted to hang out with him?"

Prussia didn't answer. His other hand however was nearly gone, along with one of his feet.

"Ever think Spain is just too nice to admit he hates you?"

"Shut up!" Prussia shouted. "Spain doesn't hate anyone!"

"You think too much of that fucking wuss. He talks about you behind his back. Says that an ex-nation shouldn't even exist."

"That's . . . that's not true . . ."

The man was now glad Prussia was wearing only a tank top and shorts. It was much easier to track the progress of how much he was disappearing. This was working perfectly.

The man held up four fingers, folding one down. "And now on to France. He's easy. I've seen how he looks at you. Your friendship was never really the same after the Franco-Prussian War, was it?"

His arm was nearly completely transparent. One of the shackles clattered to the floor but Prussia didn't seem to notice. "We're over that. The Bad Touch Trio has fought each other plenty of times."

"He hates you," the man leered. "He said so himself. At one of the world meetings. Which, by the way, you aren't invited to, are you?"

"I don't need to go to those stupid meetings," Prussia scoffed. "I'm too awesome to listen to guys in suits drone on about economics.

"You're not invited because you're an idiot ex-nation who can't keep his mouth shut when it matters."

"I'm not an idiot!" he protested. "I just lack common sense!"

The kidnapper smirked, pushing down another finger. Prussia was getting clearer by the minute. Every word seemed to have the desired effect on him.

"And now on to Hungary. You love her a lot, don't you?"

Prussia hissed sharply, but did not deny it.

"I don't think you realize just how much she hates you. You've been nothing but a dick to her for all the centuries you've known her. Last time I checked, only middle school boys are mean to their crushes. I thought you would've outgrown that by now. You were nothing but an arrogant asshole to her when you two were children. You mocked her for her problems and she will forever hate you for that."

Prussia looked as if was on the verge of tears. "It's just . . . it's just playful banter! She knows I don't mean it!"

The man tutted softly. "You've sent her crying into the arms of her darling ex-husband more times than I can count. Even now, you continue to antagonize her. Maybe once upon a time she loved you, but you've destroyed any chance you had of being together with her you worthless piece of shit! It's all your fault! I surprised she can look you in the eyes without puking, you ugly albino freak."

The mysterious didn't even give him time to muster a reply, just plowed right through. The once mighty Prussia was being slowly destroyed, not by swords and bullets but by words that seemed just plausible enough to rip through his armor or arrogance like daggers.

"And now, we're on to your brother! West, as you call him. If you think he of all people cares for you then you're in for a nasty shock. How do you think he feels when he catches you staring at him, weighing him against his dead brother and finding you came up short? I wonder if he feels as if he will never measure up to Holy Rome in your eyes? You are nothing but a squatter that freeloads in his basement! You are an embarrassment to him! He is ashamed of you! People pat him on the back and say, 'I'm sorry you're brother is like that,' because no one likes you. No one cares about you! While you were trapped on the other side of the Berlin Wall, he was glad you were gone! He wished you were dead and was sorely disappointed when you survived even after your land was taken away from you!"

Prussia choked slightly, tears spilling from his eyes. He was nearly gone, nearly gone. The experiment had almost succeeded and soon there would be one less useless nation taking up space.

"How did it feel to have your very existence ripped away from you, Prussia? No one remembers you anymore! In the history books, you're made out as the anti-hero! You were the root of Nazism, not your brother! You killed those people! What happened to you? You used to be great, you used to be a force to be reckoned with! Even when you were Poland's bitch, you still were one of the most formidable fighting forces in the world! And now look at you!" The man spat, kicking the almost-vanished nation. "You are worthless! You are nothing! No one cares about you! No one loves you! You should just go and die already! No one needs you around, you worthless excuse for a child murderer! Just die! Just disappear! Just go."

That last outburst did it. Prussia began to sob openly as he vanished from this world, becoming nothing more than a faint breeze that rushed around the room before fading away.

One last phrase reached the nation-killers ears, a sentence that made even the crazed man's grin falter.

"I've failed you, Old Man Fritz."

Xxx

While Prussia was dying, Hungary was cooking in her kitchen. As he flickered out, she felt something sharp and heavy in her chest. Without reason, she suddenly burst into tears with the feeling that she had lost something very dear, and very precious, but she did not know what. Her spoon clattered to the floor and she sank to her knees and cried for all she was worth.

While Prussia was dying, France turned uneasily in his sleep, half formed apologies forming on his lips before falling uselessly to the ground as he realized it was too late. But too late for what?

While Prussia was dying, Spain walked the streets of a small Italian village, searching desperately for Romano. Suddenly, he keeled over, tears welling in his eyes. He whispered the name of a friend, but it sounded like a sigh, not a name. It sounded like something dead and empty and forgotten.

While Prussia was dying, his little brother, his West, his Germany ran hopelessly through the streets of Naples, wondering where his brother could be. And then suddenly, there was the feeling that something was horribly wrong in the world. The feeling that he didn't need to search any more because there was nothing left to search for. And Germany felt empty.

a/n I really love this chapter, especially this last part. Prussia is my favorite character, so it was sort of depressing, but I think I executed it well. I hope.

Thanks for reading this chapter and remember to review! (or at least favorite).