"No!" Italy wailed, the chains of his handcuffs jingling behind him as he was shoved through the front door of England's house by Germany, "You can't just lock me up! No!"

"Stop whining," England barked, loading the pistol he had grabbed earlier, "Frankly, by this point, it's just rather annoying."

Italy's eyes widened at the sight of the gun, but Germany stepped in front of him. "I told you, England, you won't need that gun! We aren't going to shoot Italy."

"That's what you said about locking me up!" Italy squealed, "You told Austria you weren't going to do this!"

"You killedAustria!" Germany bellowed angrily, "You've killed two countries and I'm not letting you kill anymore! Locking you up is the only thing that will keep the rest of us safe!"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake," Hungary said, coming in through the door and snatching Germany's keys, "At least take these wretched cuffs off him…" She unlocked the cuffs and took them off Italy's hands, letting him free. "Seriously, Germany, can't you see he's scared? Tsk… Ok… And his wrists are chafed, too, poor baby…" She then began to wipe his forehead.

"Hungary," Germany said loudly, "Aren't you angry at him? He just killed Austria!"

"He's still scared!" Hungary said, "He didn't kill him intentionally!"

"It looked pretty intentional to me," Germany said, "Seeing as he full-on attacked him!"

"It wasn't him!"

"It washim! You weren't even there!"

"There's something wrong with him!" Hungary screamed, her face red and her eyes filled with tears. Her scream rang throughout the house and everyone was silent. "This isn't my baby," she said, "This is notItaly. Whether it's schizophrenia, some mental disease, just, whatever it is, this is something beyond his control."

"…Then we must put him under ourcontrol," Germany said.

"I agree that he should be contained," Hungary said, and then sniffed as she began to cry. "Just be nice to my baby…"

Germany looked into Hungary's eyes. Her relationship with Italy was a peculiar one among countries. He'd never seen this about her before, at least not for a long time, but she was like a mother to Italy. Up until he had gained independence from Austria, he had been like her son.

"You thought he was a girl," Germany said.

"…So?" said Hungary.

Germany thought. "…You dressedhim, how did you not know he was a boy?"

"It was… Complicated; I've always had trouble with genders – how do you know I thought he was a girl?"

"That's not the point now," Germany said, "England, let's get Italy downstairs."

"Right," said England, putting his gun into its case on his belt. "Come on, then."

"Please," Italy said as Germany took him by the arm.

"I'm sorry, Italy," Germany said, "It's what's best for everyone." He leaned back to Hungary. "By the way," he said, "What did you end up doing with Austria's body?"

"Actually," Hungary said, "I've been meaning to talk to you about that… It disappeared."

"Disappeared…?" Germany said, shocked, "What do you mean?"

"Just that," Hungary replied, "I went to get it and it was already gone." She sipped up the raincoat she was wearing ant turned to leave. "I know you want me here, but I need to go back and look for it, or at least find out what happened. He was my husband."

Germany nodded. "We'll take care of Italy."

"You'd better," Hungary said as she walked out, closing the door behind her.

When Germany and England reached the dungeon below England's house, a shrill, well-known voice rang out.

"Dudes!" America cried as he ran up to them, "It's totally sick down here! Yo, Britain, why do you have a dungeon under your house?" He winked suspiciously.

England sighed. "Relax, America," he said, "It's from hundreds of years ago. I haven't used it in the longest time and that's why I asked you and France to prepare it."

"Prepare it for what?" France said excitedly, appearing almost out of nowhere. "Have you finally opened yourself up to the beauty of the human body? And am Iinvolved?"

England's face turned red and he stiffened up. "No, you perverted little twat! How could you think it's for anything like that at all?!"

"Well," America said, pointing up his index finger, "With yaoi fangirls, anything can seem perverted!"

"And just where the bloody hell are the yaoi fangirls?!"

America looked around cautiously and then motioned for England to come closer. When he did, he whispered into his ear. "They're everywhere."

"Anyway…" England said, slightly disturbed, "The reason I need this dungeon is for what I called you about earlier. Italy has killed Spain and Austria…"

"WHAT?" France screamed, "Austria?! Spain?! You didn't tell me who it was!" His mood had fallen almost immediately. "Spain… Oh, he had been an ally of mine in many wars… And though we had our difficulties, he had been like a brother to me… Oh, I wonder how Prussia will feel when I tell him the Bad Touch Trio is now a duo…"

"Bad FriendsTrio," England said, irritated.

"…Right," said France, "And then, Austria… Oh, he was so beautiful! The way he played always made me swoon at his window…"

The other three stared at him awkwardly. He looked back at them. "Well, crap."

"Is that what you were doing when we were arguing about Beethoven?" Germany asked awkwardly.

France shot an anxious look at him. "…I was spying for military reasons."

"Never mind that…" Germany said, "Is the cell ready?"

Italy gulped, beginning to sweat anxiously.

"Just about," America said, scratching his head. "You can go ahead and throw him in."

"Throw?!" Italy squealed.

"…It's just an expression, Italy…" Germany said, "One that didn't need to be used." He glared at America, and then led Italy to the cell. The dungeon was dark and gloomy, its walls and floors made of stone and cement. The cells were made of old-fashioned iron and iron bars, and the only light came from dim light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Italy guessed that it also doubled as a wine cellar, because on one end, there was an inventory of wine barrels and racks of bottles. He didn't want to be kept down here. It was a horrible place for him.

"No!" he cried, "Please, don't put me in here! Don't do this to me! I don't want to stay locked in here for God knows how long!"

"I'm so sorry, Italy," Germany said, "But until you can stop this insanity… I can't let you be a threat to everyone else."

"No!" Italy screamed, "I'll stop! I won't let it happen again! I won't! I promise!"

"I'm sorry," Germany said, leading Italy into the cell that had been prepared, "But this has gone too far." He closed the heavy iron door and locked Italy in. Italy gripped the iron bars that were built into the top half of the door. His eyes filled with tears.

"Please don't do this," he said, "It's not my fault… Please!"

Germany looked at him with guilt, but turned and faced the others. "I still can't fully tryst him down here. I'll need someone to look after him down here. I'll need someone to look after him. France, you can do that."

France nodded. "I'll do what I must, Capitan…"

"Danke. The rest of you, come with me." Germany headed toward the stairs without a further look at Italy.

Before England left, he looked at Italy pitifully. "Here's to you, old chap…" He then somberly turned and left.

America stood before Italy as well. "Spain and Austria…" He said, "Wow… I wasn't too close to them, but dude… This is weird…" He looked down sullenly and then followed England and Germany.

"Wait," Italy said, "Don't leave me here! Please! Don't do this! Please…" Tears dripped from his cheeks and he removed his hands from the iron bars, retreating against the wall and slouching down.

France approached the door and looked at Italy pitifully. However, he began to grin almost deviously. "Oh, Italy, I believe it wasn't your fault."

Italy looked up hopefully. "You do?"

"Oh, of course!" France said joyfully, leaning with one hand against the side of the cell door. "You didn't meanto kill those countries. It was an accident, no?"

"I think," Italy said, looking down.

"You don't deserve to be locked up in there, Italy…" France said softly, "You are innocent… Well, on the outside. On the inside…" He grinned seductively. "You're… Bold, daring, feisty…"

Italy looked up at him awkwardly.

"It's a shame, really," England sighed as they reached the top of the stairs and stood in his kitchen, "How such a peaceful country could escalate to this… I'll go put on some tea."

"Italy could hardly do anything in wars before, "America said, "And now he's suddenly killing them without meaning to?" Dude… That's just not right. Yo, Germany, what's up, man? You've seemed wicked upset since you got here."

"…I'm fine," Germany said, "But… Why aren't you two more… Emotional, about Austria's death?"

"…What about Spain?" England said.

"Huh?" said Germany, "What about him?"

"You only mentioned Austria…"

"Oh," Germany said, "Did I? That was dumb of me. I thought I mentioned Spain."

America and England exchanged confused looks. "Okay…" England said, "Well, I'll go put the kettle on, as I said." He went to do so. "And I guess, we just weren't as close to Spain and Austria. We both don't share the same mainland and haven't had as much contact with them in history as you have."

"Yeah," America said, "Plus, that Austria dude started World War I!"

Germany tensed up. "No," he said, "He didn't, really."

"…What do you mean?" England said as he poured water into a kettle.

Germany was quiet for a few moments, and then spoke. "You see, Austria and Hungary had been arguing close to the end of their marriage. It had to do with a young nation named Serbia whom Hungary had wanted to take into their household, but Austria opposed. He thought that Serbia would only bring problems into the house. He didn't trust Serbia… And when a human from Serbia shot the archduke and his wife, that is when they had had enough of each other and wanted to separate. However… They came to me to ask what to do, whether they should go to war or not…"

"And you said yes?" America asked.

"…No," Germany said, "I said they could do what they wanted. And it turned out that they wanted to go to war. But then… it wasn't just them. Everyone had grown tense and paranoid and soon almost all of Europe and even some of Asia were drawn into the war. And then America pulled himself into it, for what reason I am unsure of…"

All eyes drifted to America. He stared back at the others awkwardly. "What? I just wanted to help!"

Germany shrugged him off. "Anyway, you both know the rest. We were all driven into war… For next to no reason. I could have stopped that war… I could have told Austria and Hungary to sort it out peacefully. But I was so different then… The war started because of me. I was blamed for the war, and it was right for me to be blamed! Almost every major war in my existence was started by me. I regret so much…" He clenched his fist angrily.

England came over with three cups of tea on a plate, and handed two of them to Germany and America. "It's not entirely your fault," he said, "We all have some fault in things like that. We've all made mistakes, but we've learned from them as well. Don't worry… A country's life is naturally very stressful and we can't be expected to make the right choices all the time."

"But it seems like I never make the right choices," Germany said angrily.

England put a hand on Germany's shoulder. "It seems like that for all of us sometimes… Trust me."

"Not for me!" said America, "Hahahaha!"

England stared at him. "Yes, but the rest of the world thinks that for you."

"Hey!" America barked, "If anyone has made mistakes, it's you! Oh yeah, thanksfor One Direction! Why couldn't you just have bombed us? It would have been quicker and easier for the both of us!"

"Shut up!" England snapped, "You wouldn't know good music if it hit you square in the face!"

Germany hopelessly watched the two argue. It was past midnight and he hadn't slept the night before, and frankly, this tea was putting him to sleep. He sat there, feeling the tea warm his stomach as he drank it, staring up at the two without even hoping to break them up. He was much too tired, and as he thought about it, he realized it was actually somewhat entertaining.

"You think mytastes in music are bad?" America said, "My music is the best in the world!"

"Ha!" England said, "This coming from the home of Britney Spears."

"She's a pop legend!" America said, "Obviously you haven't even heard her!"

"I wrote Yankee Doodle to insult you," England said, "And you made it a national icon. Thatisn't bad taste in music?"

"Ah—" America started to say something, but stopped. "At least we can probably both be glad Justin Bieber doesn't come from us."

"…Definitely," England said.

"Uhm…" said a quiet voice from the corner, "I take offense to that…" It was Canada, standing quietly behind them.

"Canada, bro," America said, surprised, "When did you get here?"

"I've been here the whole time," he said shyly, "Don't you remember? I helped with the cell and everything… But didn't get to do much because you guys didn't really notice me at all…"

"Dude," America said, "Where's that polar bear thing you always have with you?"

"You mean Mr. Kumajiro?" Canada said, "…He refused to come with me because he was taught not to go with strangers…"

There was a long silence as the clock ticked quietly in the kitchen.

"Wow," America said.

"You've always been such an adorable little country," France said to Italy, stroking the bars of his cell gently.

"Go away, France," Italy said weakly.

"Oh," France said, grinning deviously, "But why would I do that? I was ordered to watch over you, and watch over you I shall…"

"Please go away," Italy said, backing up against the wall, "I'm not in the mood!:

"But come on," said France, "Don't you think you'll get lonely in there? Don't you want some company? I can come here every night… I can keep you company. What have you got to lose? You are single at the moment, no? Come on, Italy…" He put his hand through the bars, holding it out to him with a devilish grin. "No one needs to know…"

Italy stood up, beginning to panic. "Please! Just leave me alone, France! I don't feel that way toward you!"

"But you could," France said seductively, "With just one touch… You could become one with me… I can take all of this insanity away, with just a touch of my body… Just one touch…"

Italy began to hyperventilate. His fingers twitched and he began to sweat. His heart pulsed rapidly. Suddenly, he felt something jolt through him, and he screamed in pain, rage and terror as he rammed full-speed into the door, smashing it not just open but outward, its hinges breaking like elastic, carrying France with it. The heavy iron door shot off the doorway of the cell at an astounding speed, and with a loud clang, it collided with the stone wall, crushing France with a stomach-wrenching cracking sound as his ribs snapped. He let out one wail in extreme pain as his chest collapsed, and then his head fell against the iron bars as his body landed in a limp, lifeless heap between the floor and the wall, underneath the iron door, which was now covered in blood. Italy's eyes widened, terrified, but this time he had no time for regret.

"What the hell was that?!" Germany bellowed above the dungeon in England's kitchen. All four of the countries hurried down England's stairs once more. When they reached the dungeon, they all gasped. Canada covered his mouth and held his stomach.

"France!" England cried out, panicked and stunned.

"Dude, sick!" America said, looking at France's crushed body. Blood was smeared across the floor and splattered on the wall, and France lay in a pool of blood that was still pouring from his mouth and the ribs that stuck out of his skin. It was a very brutal scene.

England tried to lift the door off France, but could not. "It's far too heavy," he said, "Germany, help me!"

Germany did so and helped England pull the door off France's body. It was dripping with blood, and as they placed it on the floor, Germany saw that the inner lock mechanism of the cell door had been completely obliterated and parts of it were strewn across the floor.

"Mein gott," Germany said, "He smashed the entire door off its hinges!"

"France, wake up! England said urgently, shaking him forcefully. "This is no time to be dramatic! Wake up!"

"…Wow," America said, "Italy is strong… How did he dothat? He's even stronger than me!"

"Shut up, America!" said England, "This isn't the time to be arrogant either!"

America's face grew pale. "I… Just… Gah! Sorry!" He rushed to France as well. "France! No! Stay with us, buddy!"

"I can't believe this," Canada said, his fingers anxiously gripping his head under his golden hair, not wanting to get to close to the body, "France… He can'tbe dead!" Tears came to his eyes and pooled under his glasses. "No!"

"I… Don't know what to say…" England said, "I have always fought with him… Always hated him… But… Now I feel like I needed him. I never wanted him to die!" Tears rolled from his emerald green eyes. "Please… Get up, France, you big fat frog! Don't die on me!" he shook France's body again, truing to wake him up.

"You can go into denial later," Germany yelled, looking at the group in urgency and fear, "Where is Italy?!"

Italy climbed breathlessly up a hill to a cliff on the southeastern English coast, and looked out at the churning English Channel as the wind howled mournfully in the distance. Over the horizon, he could see a tiny sliver of the northern coast of France, lightning flashing above and thunder echoing far off. He shook with fatigue, trauma, and the chill of the harsh winds, and as he looked down at his hands, the menacing hands that had killed now three countries, he couldn't help but scream into the distance, a cry of pain and despair, as lightning leapt across the sky before him… But the cry ended with a crazed yet paranoid laugh. He felt scared and pained… Yet also felt some kind of new, sick pleasure.