My, my, Iggy sure is popular. Sorry for the wait, I have been procrastinating to the extreme!
…
Tip #7: Try not to get arrested in foreign lands.
A bead of sweat trickled down your nose. The little red dial was slowly inching its way to seventy five, about ten over the speed limit. You pressed your foot slightly harder on the gas. No one was on this old country route anyways. It wouldn't bother anyone if you sped up a little. You didn't want to encounter that creepy guy who "coincidentally" always arrived to your hotel room exactly as you did.
Taking a sharp turn around the corner, your eyes flicked nervously to the mirror. There was only the dim illumination of the road. Just an empty path, nothing to be worried about. You bit your lip, your eyes checking the dial then the mirror. Only flashing red lights. You focused back on the road ahead. Wait. Flashing red lights?
A familiar shriek of a siren rang in your ears. Oh no. You gave the steering wheel a squeeze, then sighed. You'd get in a lot more trouble if you tried to speed away. You slowed down and pulled over to the side. The police car halted behind you.
You took a deep breath. It was nighttime, you could say you couldn't read the road sign. If you had to, you could use your…feminine charm. Unless it was a female officer. Then you'd just-
There was a firm tap on your window. You shut your eyes and rolled it down.
"Officer, please, I-"
"I don't have time for excuses, miss."
Your eyes shot open at the familiar accent.
"England?"
He furrowed his thick brows under his police cap.
"(name), I'm going to have to ask you to get out of the car."
You tilted your head.
"What? But I was speeding."
He waved around a notepad.
"So you admit!"
You slapped your forehead.
"I, um, no-"
"You are a foreigner in my country, I have to make sure everything checks out."
Your mouth dropped open.
"That's discrimination! I will not-"
He huffed impatiently.
"Do you have your official papers?"
You paled.
"Um…"
"Then I suggest you get out of the car before I charge you for that as well."
You glared and opened the door. He nodded and scribbled something down on his notepad. You held out your arms.
"Okay, I'm out. What do you want?"
The corner of his mouth twitched.
"Are you unfamiliar with any police protocols, (name)? I'm going to have to pat you down."
You recoiled, you face morphing into more shock.
"Pat me down? I don't have anything on me!"
"Do I have to say you resisted an officer?"
You gritted your teeth and spun around, pressing up against the car. This was ridiculous! English police procedures for speeding were outlandish.
His hands started at the tops of your arms, gripping tightly. He trailed down to your waist painfully slow, slightly pushing his body against you. You scrunched your eyebrows. You'd never got patted down so…intimately before.
His hands skated down to your hips.
"Aha!"
He gave your bottom a squeeze. You gasped and turned around, preparing to knock the Brit right in the face. He dangled a silver object from his finger.
"What are you doing with a Swiss army knife, (name)? Huh? Preparing to bomb the Buckingham Palace?"
You shook your head.
"How-"
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to bring you into HQ."
He grabbed you into an awkward embrace, confining your wrists in metal cuffs. You squirmed against his chest as he led you into his car. You had just about had enough of this overreacting officer.
"You can't do this! I'm not a terrorist!"
"Always taking precautions, (name). Even with you."
You sighed and watched as your car faded into the distance. If someone stole it, you'd really kill England.
"Where is your headquarters?" you asked, concerned about leaving your vehicle far away.
The island nation muttered an address. Your eyes widened.
"Wait…that's the address to you house…"
…
Oh yes, and for all who are wondering where I read one of America's weaknesses is Dora the Explorer, it is mentioned in Hetalia Fantasia 2 and says on his Hetalia Archives profile. I swear it's legit!