Author's note:

Hey ya'll! I'm here with chapter 10! Do I hear a woop woop? And guess what? I'm right where I was before, but now with NO plot holes! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! Please review whether you like it or not, reviews are what keeps the story going.

And of course, this wouldn't be an author's note without the reply to Zaaze! (It's spelled different, I know. So what? Move along, shoo, shoo!)

You're totes welcome to cheering ya up! I love to hear that I made a positive difference in your life. And haha, I doubt you're younger than me. And I'd love to read your story, even if it is a self-insert. Here's a secret: My Supernatural story is a self-insert. I'd love to hear what country you became, that'd be superb! I'm in Arizona, in the US of A. I also usually stay up until like, 3, so I did probably post it really late. And I'm super tomboyish, and I hate dresses, but I really like makeup, though I think that makeup is for both girls and guys, so that might be why. (Also, I hate gendering things, like hobbies and colors. Like, a boy can wear makeup! Who the hell said he can't!? And since when is blue a boy color, and pink a girl color?) And really, when you were describing yourself, it was like you were talking about me. My aunt and uncle complain that I have the craziest mood swings, but hormones can do that to you. *shrugs*

Soft pattering of feet followed behind me, the owner just so happened to be a very flustered England. When he finally caught up with me, he shot me a quirky smile. "I'll help, love! It is what a gentleman does, isn't it?" Does he have a gentleman complex, much like America has a hero complex? That's an interesting thought.

"Sure, if you want. Let me warn you, though, it's really heavy." I had packed years and years worth of stuff. What, did you think that I would pack light? Ha, that's a funny idea. Hell no, I was packing as much as I could possibly fit in those damn suitcases.

"I'm sure it's nothing for me!" England was faking optimism. I think he's nervous that I'm still pissed at him because he didn't come talk to me, and because he wouldn't let Russia come. He was right to think that I was, but I tend to get over stuff easily.

Maybe a little too easily, my mood swings have been unpredictable since I've been here. How many times have I stormed off? Two, three? It was still more than I did at home in a year. I'm normally somewhat calm, I can handle intense pressure well. But not since I've met England, and I think it's a bad thing.

"I'm not that mad, you know. More pissed that you didn't tell me. I would have still gone with you, as much as I still hate it. You did make me leave my mom and dad, but" I laughed hollowly, "I was planning on moving to Arizona as soon as I turned 19. I guess everyone has to leave at some time, right?"

"Why don't you hate me? You have every reason to." England stuck his hands in the pockets of the military suit he was wearing, either out of the bitter cold getting to him, or to keep from fidgeting.

I sighed, taking in a deep breath after to replenish the air I let out. "Eh, I don't really know. I end up numbing myself to the situation if I can't handle it, I think that's what I did with this. Eventually I'll get out of my emotional coma, but until then, I don't think it's in me to hate you. In all honesty, and I don't know how many times I'll say this today, but I like you, I really do. In my personal opinion, you're up there with Prussia."

"What scale are you putting me on?" He raised his brows to my comparison to Prussia. We neared the building, but the path we were on was long, so it would be another minute or so before we made it to the large glass doors.

"The awesomeness scale. Prussia is first, because, DUH, he's 'ze awesome Prussia', then you. In all honesty, I only have a few favorite countries, everyone else is meh." I waved my hands in front of my face, gesturing the 'meh'.

"Who out of all of us are in your favorites list?" He looked so hopeful and happy when he found out that he was on my favorites, (though he crinkled his nose at Prussia when he thought I didn't see), so I just had to tell him how picky I was. It's quite an honor for someone to make it on my liked list, let alone favored.

"Don't laugh, but I only like a few people. Everyone says I'm too selective, but I don't want to love a douchebag just because everyone else likes them, for the exception of Romano. He's great. So, in order from favorite to meh, it's Prussia, you, Germany, Russia, America, and Romano. I think Spain is cool, too. Oh, and I can't forget about Finland, Sweden, and Switzerland, plus Poland. They're, like, awesome!" I mimicked Poland's voice, earning a small chuckle from the Brit.

"Sorry to ask, love, but what about Italy?" England looked at me from the side, keeping the majority of his eyes on the ground in front of him to keep from falling. The pavers beneath us were cracked, so one wrong move and you fell on your face. Not fun.

I blinked in surprise. Why was he asking about Italy? Maybe because everyone seems to think that he's a smol cinnamon bun? I don't know, but I am gonna tell him the truth.

"No, I don't like Italy that much. It's an unpopular opinion, especially because the show is about him, and everyone says how cute he is, but I don't like 'im. He's unbelievably manipulative, a crybaby, and generally annoying. I like Romano way more, he doesn't get the recognition he deserves. Italy just took all the attention away from his brother. And Italy depends too much on Germany, who struggles as it is under Hitler's tyranny, adding Italy doesn't help." I shrugged. "I got a lot of hate for making it known I don't like Italia, but eh, whatcha gonna do about it?"

"WHAAAT...? How could Italy be manipulative? He's empty brained, and incredibly stupid." He shuffled his feet in disbelief. How many times had Italy tricked them? Gott, I lost count.

In response, my head shook. They really didn't see it, did they? I know that Grandpa Rome and a few select countries that hadn't really fallen for his play saw it as plain as day, but never commented. I though that Iggy would notice.

"Nuh uh, just think back. When he wants to distract someone, he yells out something ridiculous, effectively irritating someone enough to stop talking and focus on him. He uses your weak spot against you, very slyly might I add, so that people do things for him. He cries when he wants to get something, and Germany will do anything to make him stop. For example, Italy knows that he's Germany's only friend, so he uses phrases like "Germany, you're my friend aren't you?" to get Ludwig to do shit for him, or to put up with his crapola. It's genius! He acts empty brained to get you to believe his act, but the average IQ of Italians is 102, number five in the list of the smartest nations. Don't underestimate the slimy bastard, he knows how to spin you!"

I waved my hands wildly in the air as I got increasingly more frustrated. Talking about Italy was always a passionate subject, especially when on the topic of his manipulation. I had studied his character quite a bit when I was briefly considering cosplaying as him for my sixteenth birthday, but then I ended up just staying in with Kat and watching Netflix to celebrate my sweet sixteen, so I didn't dress up. At the time, I thought it was a week's worth of research wasted, but I guess random things do come in handy.

"So all this time, the arse was pretending to be an idiot? That… actually makes much more sense than if he was stupid. Fuck! We all fell for it!" Hearing him curse was like a nightmare and a dream all at once.

"Meh, it's okay. It took a little over a season for me to notice it, but when I did it ALL made sense. The little ass had even the viewers wrapped around his finger. Clever, innit?" The cold air nipped at my cheeks as we briskly walked, the slight wind not helping.

"Yes, unfortunately. We'll have to alter everything now, so much for having the battle plans figured out. Thanks for telling me, love. I appreciate it." England kept steadily walking to the front of the building, where the door was calling to us, (figuratively). Only one thought was in my head when I locked eyes with the cold metal and glass door: warmth.

In a quick dash, I ran to the glass, skidding to a stop so I didn't slam into it like a bird. I pushed it open, almost running inside when the warm air welcomed me.

"Warmth! Yaaaaas…" I sighed and snuggled into my thin scarf as I waited a few seconds for England. When he came in, the poor cutie pie looked so confused. Maybe it was the fact that my face was buried in my scarf and jacket? I don't know, but his scrunched up eyebrows looked so damn adorable!

I lifted up my face just a little bit so I could study his face when he was closer to me. "What?" I spoke with a hint of amusement. He looked so shocked to see me, I had to ask.

England shook his head. "Nothing, just… Are you cold? I can give you my jacket." A light pink was dusted over his cheeks, which at this point I can't tell if it was because of his adorableness/awkwardness or from the sudden change in temperature from cold to warm. Maybe a mix of both?

"Nah, I'll just get my Russia cosplay coat out of my bag later. Thanks for offering, though!" I bought it when I saw it for sale at Macy's, it looked exactly like Russia's trench coat. As a plus, it was warm and cozy inside.

I took my face out of my scarf entirely in favor of not looking like a weirdo while we walked.

England and I followed the exact same path we took to get out to the meeting room. It was a quick walk, where we both talked about how cold it was in France and how the weather in Britain compared. England kept referring to himself as Britain, not England, which spurred something in my thought process.

"Hey, does calling you England lower your status as a country? Cause you're the UK, which is a pretty large area, and calling you Britain only refers to Great Britain, and calling you England only refers to England."

England/Britain closed his eyes for a split second. When he opened them, he slowly and carefully chose his words. "In a way, it does. Calling me by any province or country only refers to that part of me, not my whole being. So when you call me England, you're only calling me by a certain aspect of my personification. I don't really mind it, though, since my title as United Kingdom hasn't been around forever. I'm still used to being called Britain, or England, which is why I don't object when you call me that. Britain is preferred, however, over anything else."

"Okay, I get it. So from now on, Imma call you Britain! Sorry for not realizing sooner." I should have known, not that many people called him anything other than UK or Britain. Even France called him Britain. Well, he also calls him Angleterre, which means England, but besides that, Britain is mostly called Britain. Good to know.

"It's perfectly alright, love." Britain stuck his hands in his pockets. "Where did you put your luggage?"

"I think it's behind the door, in that corner place. I'll see when we get in there." I walked a bit faster down the hallway. It was dark, the lights inside being turned off and the only thing allowing us to see was the small windows lining the walls. Unfortunately, the windows couldn't have been more than 5 inches wide, so not a lot of light came through them.

When we finally made it to the meeting room, the lights were off, just like in the hallway. I pushed open the door fully so En- Britain could come in.

"You don't have to hold the door open for me, I'm supposed to hold it for you." His voice was light and carried a faint tone of amusement. In response, I shrugged. "I know you try to be a gentleman, but honestly, I'm not like the girls in this day and age. Just letting you know ahead of time, I will be wearing pants, and I will not be staying at home to clean or take care of whatever shit I'm expected to. I'm independent. Like America~." I had to add the last part, I really couldn't help it.

Britain let out a faint noise of disgust but followed me to the darkest corner of the room, where I remember storing my stuff. I couldn't see anything, so I blindly reached out until I felt the rough canvas of my suitcases. I ran my fingers across the fabric until I made it to the strap, where I grabbed it and handed a bag behind me to the gentleman who decided to help me. Big mistake, these were heavy.

But when I grabbed it, it was light. Very light, like a plastic cup or something. As a result, I ended up swinging the bag too hard and almost hit Britain in the face. Oopsies. I dropped the bag for fear of accidentally hitting him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to swing that hard. They're just really light."

He grunted as he tried to lift my bag, ultimately failing and breaking out in a sweat. "What the bloody hell are you going on about? These aren't light in the least bit, I can't lift them. What did you pack?"

"What? Dude, they're super light, like, lighter than they should be. I almost hit you in the fucking face!" I held the other two suitcases in my hands, and lifted them above my head to show my point. "Here, you try lifting them." I placed them down in front of me so Britain could grab them.

He did, and wasn't able to lift them past his knees. "How-." He couldn't complete his sentence, just fell over puffing. How come I was able to lift them, but Britain can't?

By now my eyes were adjusted to the dark lighting in the allies meeting room, so I walked over to the desk and experimentally placed my hand underneath and lifted. It was heavy solid wood, and freaking huge, much bigger than what the Allies needed. Perfect for testing how much I can lift.

With a tiny nudge of my palm, it lifted almost three feet into the air no problem. I could have easily raised it above my head, but the shock stopped me. "Oh my Doitsu, this is something… new."

"You have super strength like America!?" Britain's eyes were huge and freaking out. He was still slumped over my bags, completely exhausted from his attempt to lift them up, but it was hard to focus on that and not the completely bewildered expression he wore.

"I guess I do." I gently let down the table, careful to not break it. How do I control this? Did I damage anything else? "Do you know where the light switch is?" I picked my way through the room, avoiding chairs and random tables and file cabinets.

"No, I don't. The frog hid them, most likely since America likes to turn them off to scare us." He sounded a bit grumpy, but wasn't Iggy always? Britain's voice was a bit farther now and seemed to be moving. Our light breaths were the only sound in the room besides the faint shuffling of our feet as we felt the walls with our hands for a switch. Any switch would do by now. There was no light and I didn't have a flashlight with me. My eyes weren't as well adjusted as I would like, either, so we were practically blind.

Wait, I do. My phone! "Hey, hold on a second." I reached into my back pocket and grabbed the hard black case my phone was in. After I tapped the home button to turn it on and unlocked it, the flashlight was turned on, allowing us to see. The bright light was blinding at first, but when I recovered I shined it around.

"Do you see it anywhere?" My eyes scanned the standard French room, eventually resting on Britain when nothing was found.

He huffed, "No, nothing."

After a few more minutes of looking, I found a small switch behind a bookshelf, which really wasn't a good place to hide it. If America was really determined, he'd discover it within five minutes of ransacking the walls.

I flipped it upwards with a swift move of my index finger. The lights flooded everything, and they were unnecessarily bright, so Britain and I had to squint. "Can you look around to see if I damaged anything? I don't want to destroy anything that belongs to France, he'll make me work like he made Germany work. And let me tell you, I don't want to make stupid cuckoo clocks for the rest of my life."

I stumbled around until my eyes got used to the bright lights, but didn't find any damage. Britain only confirmed what I found, nothing.

"Okay, we can go then. Sorry." I sighed and placed my almost forgotten phone back in my jean's pocket. Britain grabbed the smallest of the three suitcases with a small groan. He pulled up the handle and rolled it to the door, waiting for me until I held the others.

When the two other suitcases were in my hands safely, I turned off the lights and rolled them to the door. "Do hurry, I'm sure Russia is already threatening someone." Britain started walking fast, obviously in a hurry.

I snorted. "It took us like ten minutes to find the darn light switch, Russia probably already beat someone to a pulp." Hopefully not.

When we were both halfway down the hallway, I heard faint whispers and a flash of blond hair quickly retreated down the hallway branching off from the one we were in. I slowed down and listened intently, but wasn't able to make out much besides that someone was whispering frantically in Italian. And it sounded sort of like… Italy?

"Arthur, I forgot to get my coat out of my bag. Can you wait a second?" I put a small tinge of warning in my tone, and I used Arthur instead of Britain or England to get his attention. It worked, thankfully, and Britain stopped in his tracks, turning to me with a raised brow.

The frantic whispers seemed to quiet, but they were still there. The high pitched voice, even when quiet, sounded exactly like Italy. In the middle of what seemed to be a break down, the sounds were muffled. Germany, probably.

I set down my bags slowly, but still fast enough to not raise suspicion should the Axis be spying on us. I unzipped the bag that had the Russia coat and rummaged through it until I found the familiar tan fabric. Using my right hand to lift it over the corner of the suitcase, I skillfully covered my left hand from everyone's view except for Britain's. Using my now concealed hand, I motioned to the hallway on my right.

Britain's eyes widened when he realized what I was saying, and his hand instinctively reached for his handgun that wasn't so well hidden. I shook my head, I don't want anyone to be shot or hurt. At my disapproving shake of my head, Britain sent a scowl my way, but dropped his hand.

To keep up my act, I fully pulled out the coat, slipped it on, and closed my suitcase. And in all honesty, I did have to get it out, so thank God that I forgot to. It was a perfect way to warn my British companion. When I pulled myself up, I adjusted the strap at the waist so that it was tight, but still comfortable enough to fight should I need to.

What? I think ahead. Growing up in a dangerous world does that to you.

"Hey, I wonder what's down the hallway. I don't think Francis showed us." I made sure to use their human names, just in case. I don't want Germany to find out who I am, he'll probably use any means necessary to get me on his side to win the war. 'Any means necessary' was bloody and terrible to think about.

"I could show you if you'd like." Britain's voice held an almost undiscernible touch of caution, one that I barely picked up on. He took a few steps forward, now in full military mode, all the years of training he undoubtedly had kicking in.

I walked silently, putting almost no effort into staying silent, but being almost impossible to hear besides that. With a few quick steps, I was in the hallway and staring straight at a scared Italy and tough Germany. Japan was behind Germany, silently resigned.

When I saw them, rage like I had never felt before bubbled in my chest. Flashes of what I learned in history class and what I had read myself ran through my mind. The Rape of Nanking, the London Blitz, and other events controlled my reactions. I could barely move, I was so angry.

In my anger, I didn't realize that I was grinding my feet into the floor, so my sneakers made a loud squeak, alerting the Axis I was there.

Their heads snapped over to where I was.

Britain was behind the corner, hiding so that he wouldn't be caught. It'd be better for us if they didn't know where he was. Or the fact that he was with us at all.

My body was stiff, coat wrapped firmly around my torso and hanging loosely at my knees. My hair hung around my face, framing my large violet eyes, and accentuating the paleness of my skin. I stood taller than Japan and Italy, which didn't seem to calm them down at all.

"What are you doing here?" The most basic of questions, I know. Don't get mad at me! I can't freaking form coherent thoughts, other than wanting to strangle the three people in front of me. My voice was tight and strained, my chest already rising and falling with my rage.

"Um, nothing! I just came here with my two friends, see~? And we were looking for pasta, yeah! Cause pasta is the best, you know? And then I got hungry, and Germany- oops, I meant Ludwig, wanted to get wurst, and then Japan-"

"SHUT UP YOU RAMBLING IDIOT!" Germany blew up, yelling at a panicking Italy. Japan stayed quiet, simply observing.

"We're here because, um… What he said!" So a panicking Germany seemed to agree with Italy. Interesting.

"I believe that what they are trying to say is that we came for a paper that we forgot." Japan spoke up, covering for the two freaked out nations. His attention seemed to be on me, studying my posture and the way I held myself.

"Why the fuck are you in Canada?" I fixed my stare on Japan, cold hearted and calculated. Or so it seemed. Frankly, I'm just trying to hold myself in place and not kill him. What Japan did in WW2 got to me more than what Germany and Italy did. (The Holocaust is a whole nother story, I'm talking battle wise.)

"To get the papers, ja?" Germany started sweating.

They are terrible liars. "Nah, I don't believe you. Lemme guess, you were trying to break into the meeting room? Stealing information is what comes to mind, considering that you're super close to the meeting room." My British accent seemed to finally give way to my normal voice, which was a relief. "Finally, the thing is gone." I muttered under my breath, inwardly overjoyed.

"HEY~! You're accent is-a gone!" Italy sprang up, waving his hands and suddenly not scared of me anymore.

"Wonderful observation. It will come in so handy once you three are in jail."

"May I ask why we are being taken away?" Japan stayed calm, but Italy freaked, screaming and crying about how he didn't want to be put away behind bars. Germany just looked crestfallen, staring at the floor and reevaluating his life decisions. (Or making friends with Italy. It's probably that one.)

"You're Axis." I stated it like it was nothing, but the possibly the most dangerous thing I could have possibly said.

"So you noticed." Germany straightened up and muttered in German, "Und ich dachte, wir würden nicht gefangen werden. Verdammt , dass dumm Italienisch."

(Translation: German. And I thought we wouldn't be caught. Damn that stupid Italian.)

"Gut, dass ich hier bin, dann, nicht wahr?" (Translation: Good thing I'm here then, right?) I crossed my arms defiantly in front of three shocked Axis nations.

"Du sprichst Deutsch?" (Translation: You speak German?)

I nodded my head. "Ja." I didn't give anymore detail, since if he knew I could speak a crap ton of languages, he'd be careful how he spoke around me.

"What, but you're so pretty! Why wouldn't you work with us, pretty ragazza?"

"Because? I work with the good guys."

"But who are you?" Japan asked, with a small hint of curiosity.

"Does it matter?" I kept my voice cold, since being in their presence made me sorta sick.

"Not really…" Germany straightened his back and pried Italy off of him.

I crossed my arms. "Arthur, I believe you have some of the enemy that needs to be taken away." Britain walked out from behind the wall, and surprisingly, Russia was right behind him, holding his pipe.

"Oh, hello, love." Britain came next to me, gun in hand and pointing to the trio.

"Aw, hey Artie. You were there the whole time?" I smiled, acting all sweet, but in reality, boiling.

"Ah, not exactly. Your accent is gone, I see."

"Yup. Can you two do me a favor and get rid of these three? I don't care where, just as long as they're gone. Just don't kill them. That's my job."

"Whatever the lady says." Britain smiled, and it was super cute. *dies*

Russia nodded, "Конечно! Хотя не убивая их вещь, я не могу обещать."

(Translation: Russian. Of course! But with the not killing them, I cannot promise.)

I rolled my eyes, my attention being taken away from Britain. "Просто попробуйте, хорошо?"

(Translation: Just try, okay?)

"Конечно!" (Translation: Sure!)

I was about to turn away, but right before I did, an idea popped into my mind.