So, chapter ten is here (soooo sorry for the late update, guys! Microsoft ate some of my chapter, tumblr kept distracting me, and I've been working on a new story)! So, anyway, reviewer shoutout!

FullmetalWizard1995: So… you don't want anyone to die, but, if someone has to, let it not be Prussia? Hmm… I'll try and work with that… but be warned: I do not promise the future… (sorry, wasn't trying to sound like a fortune teller).

EternalEnergy: You too!? God, no one wants Germany to die! Well, as I said to Fullmetal, I'll try to accommodate your wishes as well, but, I do not make promises. Be warned, thy soul, for ye may be lost in a sea of eternal sorrow. (I had to pull that, I'm sorry.)

And, shoutout to all of the countries that have seen my story! They are, as of current: United States, Canada, Indonesia, Australia, Austria, Philippines, Puerto Rico, Germany, United Kingdom, Finland, Thailand, Ireland, Norway, Italy, Sweden, Singapore, Brazil, Poland, Japan, Spain, Peru, Chile, Taiwan, Vietnam, and Slovakia. Dear lord, guys! That's a LOT of countries! Keep it up! (Have a cookie for your hard work! Also, this amounts to eight hundred and sixty three views and visitors.)

"And I thought the dead, who have already died, more fortunate than the living, who are still alive;

but better than both is the one who has not yet been, and has not seen the evil deeds that are done under the sun."

"Wh-where d-did you get that?" Italy asked, looking up at Alara, still holding the tiny cat.

"I told you, we found it on your friend," she said, glancing sideways at Ezexion, who was examining the leaves of a tree.

"B-but—"

"All we know is that our Lord requests that we bring your friends back. He says there is an imminent danger if you stay here."

So… America had been right? Italy numbly stood up, still clutching the kitten keychain.

"I would suggest you wake your friends," Alara said, nodding towards the cluster of sleeping nations.

"Oh! Ah, okay!" Italy scurried over to the nearest nation (which happened to be China, who was laying on his side) and tried to wake him (aka, repeatedly prodding him). "China… you need to wake up…"

"Go away, Italy…" China muttered, trying to shoo Italy away.

"But, China, you need to wake up!"

"Why, exactly-aru?"

"These people… they say they've found Germany!"

China rolled onto his back and cracked his eyes enough to glare at Italy. "Right…"

"B-but they have!" Italy showed him the small kitten keychain. "They have!"

"Just because they found a white kitten figurine doesn't mean anything, Italy," China said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "You gave the same figurine to Finland, Sweden, and Canada. It could have been them."

"But theirs didn't have blue eyes! The one I gave Germany did!"

China still didn't look convinced.

"Please, China…"

China sighed and said, "Fine-aru." He pushed himself to his feet and brushed off his pants leggings.

"Your friend was blonde, by the way," Alara said, startling China and causing him to whirl around and face Alara.

"W-who are they?" China demanded, glaring sternly at Italy.

"They're the people that said they found Germany!" Alara clearly look confused, as to why they were referring to each other by the names of various countries.

China eyed them suspiciously, then turned back to Italy. "Are you sure…?"

"Yeah! Come on, we need to wake up the others!" Italy trotted over to England next, and began to prod him.

"England, wake up…"

"What do you want, Italy?"

"You need to wake up!"

"And why should I?"

"These people, over there… they say they found Germany!"

England sat up, rubbing his eyes and stretching. "Finally, we get to stop tracking the bastard down…" He looked over at China, who was now trying to get a twig out of his sock, and said, "Italy woke you up?"

China looked up briefly, then went back to his sock, saying, "Yes."

"I'm just going to assume Italy's going to wake everyone up," England muttered, standing up and brushing off his shirt.

"He will," China replied back.

"And Italy has complete faith in these people?" England asked, glancing suspiciously at the people.

China straightened out and shrugged. "Who knows anymore-ahen?"

"Russia, wake up! England, help me!"

England sighed. "This is how I'll die," he muttered, before going to assist Italy in trying to wake the rock (or, more accurate, hibernating bear) known as Russia.

China shook his head and held back a laugh. Italy would believe anyone, as long as they said they knew where Germany was. Still… what if, by some miracle, those people were right? What if America had been wrong? What if…

China was rudely jerked back to reality as someone almost crashed into him, the person being a very harassed-looking America, glasses askew and a dirt smudge on the tip of his nose.

"Sorry, dude!" he quickly apologized, trying to straighten out the crooked bridge in his glasses. "Dammit… " Failing to straighten out the obvious kink, he stuck them on the hem of his shirt, looking annoyed.

"What woke you?"

America jerked his head a little to the side, indicating Russia, who definitely did not look happy. His eyes were narrowed considerably, and his hair was still sticking up. Italy probably woke him during a dream that involved sunflowers, sunshine, and warmth.

"Russia doesn't look happy," America commented.

"No, he doesn't," China said, his gaze returning back to America.

America looked over his shoulder and spotted the two people. Turning back to China, he asked, "Who are they?"

China shrugged. "All Italy said was that they found Germany-aru."

"I thought he was dead."

"Apparently, you were wrong."

Just as America was about to retort with something, an ear-splitting shriek of pain ripped through the air, and another quick yelp of shock pierced the air briefly. America twisted around to look, and China peered over his shoulder, and they quickly saw what had happened.

Apparently, Austria had accidentally stepped on Prussia's hand. And, just as apparent, that hand had some broken bones in it. The result was Prussia clutching his hand while curled up in a ball, howling like a wounded dog (and still wrapped up in the jackets), Austria standing off to the side, looking as if he had stepped on a kitten, and Hungary glaring at Prussia as if, somehow, it was his fault, though a slight trace of sympathy was etched onto her face.

"A-are you okay?" Austria managed to say, looking a little pale.

"No, you fucking idiot! Dammit, Austria, why the hell do you always screw everything up?!" the Prussian snapped, his eyes full of menace.

Austria huffed. "At least I asked."

"An obvious question!" Then, the topic changed to Prussia's own misery. "How dare you step on the awesome me! How dare you! My hand, the hand of the Awesome Me, is broken! Because of you!"

Austria looked slightly confused, then sighed and shook his head. "At least Germany's thoughts are more coherent than those you hold." He turned away from the utterly pissed Prussian and off to harass Italy about how dirty his shirt was.

"Run off, sissy-boy! Run away!" Austria stared at him, obviously trying to decide whether the years of head trauma from Hungary's frying pan had damaged his brain.

Now, it was Hungary's turn to return the menacing glare. "What…did you call… Austria?" She was already starting to step towards Prussia, hand reaching to draw out her frying pan.

Now, Prussia looked scared, as he always did when Hungary drew out the ever-dreaded pan. "Eheh, nothing, nothing, just, y'know, light-ack!" He barely managed to dodge the first pan hit, rolling off to the side with a yelp. He quickly scrambled to his feet (quickly shedding the layer of coats) and managed to put a good distance between him and Hungary, glaring at her menacingly, but also afraid to step any closer. Hungary, narrowed eyes and all, held her pan aloft for a few seconds, then, shooting Prussia a glance that clearly challenged him to insult Austria again, returned it back to her side and trotted back to Austria's side. Prussia still stepped backwards, and unconsciously rubbed his broken hand, wincing slightly.

"Well, Prussia's okay," America said, picking his coat off the ground and holding it at a distance. "My coat isn't, though." He sighed, shook his head, and bundled it up into a wad.

"He's still bleeding," China pointed out.

America looked back up at Prussia, who was still rubbing his hand. "Where?"

"His cheeks-aru."

America sighed, shook his head, and returned back to China. "He'll keep bleeding the longer we wait around." He turned to the cluster of nations. "Alright, guys! Let's go!"

There was a fair amount of groaning, then, one by one, the nations filed out, following the two other strange people. After a few moments, the only nations left were America and Prussia, who was straightening out his coat (which was midnight blue).

"What happened?" America asked, as he and Prussia followed after the others. The leaves blocked out much of the moonlight, so the forest was blanketed in twilight darkness.

"Some bastard," Prussia hatefully muttered, rubbing some blood off his cheek with the cuff of his coat.

"'Some bastard' isn't very descriptive." America swatted away an orange firefly, which seemed to provide the only light in the forest.

"I think he was named 'Jonah', or something like that. Jackson? Jonas?" America could barely see Prussia shrug. "Hell if I know. He looked like Spain, except a tanner one. With green eyes."

"So… he looked like Spain?"

"Yeah."

"Turkey looks like Spain, except he has yellow eyes. Sometimes, when it's dark, yellow eyes can look like green eyes."

America thought he saw Prussia shake his head. "Wasn't Turkey. Turkey's too clever to get in a situation like that. Besides, he knew he'd get in trouble from Germany if he did."

"Then who was it?"

"A guy named Jonah, or Jackson, or—"

"Jonas."

Prussia sighed, and it was a few seconds before he talked again. "If those people are right, and they do have West, then… what does that leave us?"

"What do you mean?"

"Meaning, I know West. Unless he was badly injured or if he knew he could get something out of this, he would never agree to going along with strangers. Obviously, there's something going on. Either we find out what managed to almost kill West, or we find out what he saw in this."

America considered this for a moment. "Maybe, but I don't think it's—" the prophecy. "It might be both."

"How can it be both?"

"There was a scroll of paper someone gave to me. It was a prophecy."

"What does that have to do with West?" Prussia muttered, as a firefly danced away, its green light bobbing up and down.

"I—I think it talked about some warrior, and… I think it said someone had to die."

"Still, what does it have to do with West?"

"Well, the warrior might be Germany."

Silence for a few moments. "You think…"

"Might be."

Prussia shook his head. "Can't be… can't be…"

"I'm not saying it is, dude. I'm just saying—"

"Stop talking."

America was taken aback by Prussia's remark. "W-what?"

"I told you to stop talking about it."

"Why?"

"Because you're suggesting West could die."

"No, I'm not. I never said anything about Germany." Then, it clicked. Prussia assumed it was Germany because he was the only one missing. And… had there been a time when England talked about something like this? Yes, there had! He had said something was going to happen in the future that involved Germany! But… Prussia hadn't been at that meeting. "How do you know?"

"Know what?"

"The prophecy's last lines. How do you know?"

"You just told me, idiot." The leaves above started to thin out, allowing more moonlight in, and America could see a look of bitterness etched into the Prussian's face.

"I only told you someone had to die."

Prussia sighed. "Don't ask questions that have no answers."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

Prussia glared at America, and America could see a look of fury and—was it even?—resentment in his eyes (was there also sadness? America couldn't tell; the viciousness masked it). "Meaning, don't fucking ask questions that have no fucking answers."

"I never asked you a question." Why was Prussia suddenly defensive?

"You were implying a question. You wanted to know how I knew."

"And how do you?"

"Don't ask."

"Why not?"

"Because I told you not to, and if you do, then you'll have to explain to West why his brother left."

America sighed. "Fine." He didn't want to let the matter drop, however. How did Prussia know? How…?

After about a minute of walking, the trees started to disappear, as the forest came to a close. The moonlight illuminated everything, letting America see the various creatures that scuttled across the forest floor and into the same recluse of the trees. A cockroach, a centipede, a worm… a small blood drop on the moss-covered floor.

"You're still bleeding," America quietly said, as the forest came to a close. The midnight air howled with ferocity, and the few dark clouds stretched across the moon like threads of yarn. The moon glowed like a silver coin tossed into black oblivion, and the stars twinkled like diamonds. The other nations stood around, looking slightly confused, as the wind grabbed at their hair.

"Like I care," Prussia gruffly answered, wrapping his coat around himself, to fend off the biting wind. His left cheek was a shining scarlet, while his other cheek remained pale.

America sighed, shook his head, and looked back up at the others. The two strange people were gone. But, there was something behind the nations that was being pulled in slowly… carriages? But, it was what was pulling them that really caught America's eye.

Dragging the carriages along, tethered to them by leather straps, were the walking skeletons of horses. Neon blue tatters of skin clung to their frame. Some of the bones on them were stained a blackish-red, while the rest were a stark white. The bones were barely held together with wires that twisted the joints together, and the bones creaked and moaned with each step. The hooves clattered and clomped, as they pulled the carriages up in front of the nations, who were staring in bewilderment at the otherworldly sight. England didn't look too fazed, however.

The carriages were vastly different from the creatures pulling them. The carriages were a shining white, decorated with inked rose designs. The doors on the carriages were fitted on the sides, and they were oaken, with brass handles and hinges. Small windows were cut into the doors, allowing America to partially see the inside of the carriages. The insides seemed to be a leather brown colour, and golden fleurs-de-lis decorated the insides. America could barely see the top of a leather chair inside the carriage.

"Are we supposed to ride those?" America heard France said.

"No, we're supposed to stand on top of them, idiot," England replied, stepping up to one of the horses and resting his hand on their snout. The horse snorted and shook its head. "I've seen these before…"

"When?! If you see those things every day, there's something wrong with you!"

"I see them occasionally, mostly lurking in the woods." England turned back to France, who looked slightly terrified. "Why?"

"You see… dead horses? Every day?"

England shook his head and returned back to the dead horse, muttering something.

"That's completely normal," America quietly said, walking to the side of France.

"For England," France replied back. "Everything's that normal to the little Brit is borderline psychosis for us."

"Still… we need to get going, right?"

France sighed. "Under any normal circumstances, I wouldn't board a carriage driven by dead horses."

"But…"

"These aren't normal conditions, are they?"

America shook his head. "Not at all." Just then, one of the people stepped out of the first carriage and started towards the cluster of nations.

"Pick a carriage, but not the first one," the green-haired one said. "And, please, don't upset the horses, shake the carriage, or leave it in a worse condition."

The nations, still recovering from the shock of the skeleton horses, nodded numbly.

"Alright then. Pick one. The sooner this is done, sooner you can see your friend. Got it?"

Another nod from the nations, and the woman turned and strode back to the first carriage.

"You heard the lady," America said, nudging France with his elbow. "Go pick a carriage."

"You pick one."

"Fine, the…" America counted the carriages, which totaled to seven. "Third one."

"Prussia beat you to it."

"Really?" America twisted around, and, sure enough, the Prussian was nowhere to be seen. "Well, the fourth one then."

"Mind sitting with Italy?"

America turned back around. "Nope. Come on." America led France toward the carriage, but ended up dragging him to it when they were within ten feet of it. France really didn't like the idea of a dead horse pulling them to their destination. Pulling the door open, America had to push France in, then he had to quickly enter and shut the door before France tried to escape. The fleurs-de-lis America had seen inside weren't exactly the same symbols France constantly drew, saying that they were "gorgeous, just like me!" Instead of three petals, there were five, and above the middle petal was a British-style crown. A black line ran underneath the fleurs-de-lis.

"So, Italy," America said, glancing around the cabin (France was sitting down, his fingers nervously twitching), his eyes resting on the happy Italian. "You sure the people are right?"

"Yeah!" Italy chimed, holding a small keychain. "See, they had—" Italy handed the keychain to America, "this! It belonged to Germany!"

America quietly looked at the keychain as he sat down in one of the squishy, leather chairs. "You sure? I could've sworn you gave the same one to me…"

"No, yours had glasses!"

America sighed and tossed the keychain back to Italy. "But… never mind." He turned to France. "France."

"Oui?"

"About Prussia…"

"What about the man?" He considerably tensed when the carriage lurched into motion, and America heard someone (presumably Prussia) laughing insanely.

"Well, he seemed to know a bit about the prophecy…"

"And? You did tell him, didn't you?"

"No, I only told him the last ones, and he automatically assumed it had to be Germany."

France looked quizzically at America. "Why?"

"Remember that meeting a couple of months ago? In April?"

"Yes. What does it have to do with—"

"England said something would happen that involved Germany. He had to have been talking about this!"

France sighed. "America, he also said that, after the eleventh, the meeting would be sabotaged. We came there, on the twelfth, and nothing happened."

"Well, you accidentally spilled wine on Germany's papers. That sabotaged it."

France sighed tiredly. "Alright. Suppose Prussia is right. Suppose he is correct about Germany facing this—who was he?—Conqueror of Death. What were the last lines?"

"It said 'one must draw their final breath'."

"So… either this Conqueror or Germany has to die?" France shook his head. "Nonsense."

"Whaddya mean, nonsense!?"

"Meaning, I won't believe this until we get there. This person could be anyone. Could be you, could be me, could be old China. It could be anyone."

"But—"

"End of conversation."

America glared at France one last time, then turned to Italy, who was playing around with the keychain. God, if Germany did die… how would Italy react? Sure, he'd believe Germany was just lost for the first week, but then… he'd realize Germany would never come back. What would he be like then?

America shook his head. No, it couldn't happen. Germany couldn't die. No one would allow it.

The first indication to America that they had arrived at their destination was the blinding light that filtered in through the window. Curiously, America stuck his head around the window—and gasped.

The place was even grander than the tales of golden castles England told him when he was little. It was styled in fashion of the old gothic churches England proudly spoke of, even though this city was, by far, greater than the churches could ever be. There were at least a dozen spires, and it made the castle look as if it were a giant, marble crown that sat on the ground. The walls were made of some pure white stone (it appeared to be marble), and the smooth walls glistened in the moonlight. The stone bricks fit so perfectly, the walls seemed to be carved out of one block of stone. A clock sat on the middle (which also happened to be the tallest) spire, its golden hands slowly revolving around the black face, the numbers gilded in silver. From the clock, it looked to be 12:47. A smooth, granite path was paved up to the castle's doorstep. A massive, gold-gilded gate barred the way, which was attached to a stone grey wall.

"And Germany's been living here…" America quietly said, as the carriage drew closer to the castle in front of him.

"Living where?" France asked, standing up and moving towards the window. He managed to peer out the window, and his jaw dropped. "Dear lord…"

"I know!"

"We're here?" Italy asked, jumping to his feet. "Yay!"

The carriage grinded to a halt, and America just managed to pull the door open before Italy ran out.

France shook his head, a light smile marking his face. "Someone's happy." He quietly stepped out the carriage and began chasing Italy down, who had managed to almost knock over Prussia. As America stepped out and shut the door, chatter filled the air, as the nations gawked at the massive castle that stood before them.

"I see you're impressed," a light voice said, as the green haired woman stepped out of the first carriage, the man stepping out soon afterwards.

"It is rather magnificent," Austria commented, brushing the sleeve of his coat off.

"Just magnificent?" England asked. "A huge understatement!"

"Seems like the kind of place Austria would lurk in," Prussia muttered.

"When do we get to see Germany?" Italy asked, stopping beside of the woman, France almost running into him.

"Your friend?" the woman asked, a smile playing on her face. "Follow after me." With that, she turned and started towards the gate, Italy following behind.

The man turned to the nations. "I suggest you do as she says. Anyone not recognized by the kingdom will be killed on sight."

This set the nations (including France and America, while Prussia looked bored) in motion, and they scurried after the woman, who was watching as the gate was pulled back by dozens of armor-clad guards.

"This way," the woman said, gesturing the nations through the gate.

America sighed. No turning back now, he thought, as the gate closed behind him with a thud.

"Sir," someone asked. The man turned around, the fierce red eyes glowing from underneath his black hood. The short one again, Alhasser.

"What?" the man hissed.

"I-I'm afraid Arkweir failed."

"How so? You told me he saw the man die!"

"I-I don't know, sir. He did, but, somehow, the man lived. I-I honestly do not know how."

"Then, where is Arkweir?"

"I-I do not know either…"

"You're telling me… he fled?"

"H-He might have, Sir. I-It's a possibility."

"Find Arkweir and bring him back. As for the Janxes…"

"What about them, Sir?"

"Let's show them the true power of the Renwides. Unleash the armies, and let them infiltrate the worlds."

Alhasser looked nothing short of shocked. "T-The Netherworld and the Aetherworld? Sir, this is extremely risky—"

"If it fails, we still have our other countless legions to fight the enemy. If we succeed, then Death will be under my control."

Alhasser nodded. "Very well, Sir." He scurried down the hall, barking orders at the generals and commanders to gather their armies, for they were about to set the prophecy into motion.

Inside the castle were countless halls; it felt as if it were some type of labyrinth. Heavy curtains covered the windows, doors barricaded rooms off, and guards patrolled the halls. Portraits of former leaders hung on the walls, but the freakiest part was that they moved and talked. Several times, America nearly had a heart attack when one would abruptly say, "Hello!", reach out and poke him, or when they chased after him from portrait to portrait, barking at him. The last one had been a knight, yelling, "Intruder! Intruder! This man is not like the rest!", as he stalked him, occasionally jabbing him with his sword.

Germany must've gotten lost plenty of times, America thought, trailing behind the woman (who had finally introduced herself as Alara) as she led them down one particularly clean corridor. And freaked out. Imagine walking down the halls at night with these guys! Many of the oaked doors were closed, and there were few lit torches that illuminated the halls. At the end of the corridor, a yellow light filtered out from underneath a door. The door measured two and a quarter meters by one meter (about seen feet by three feet), and the brass handle on the door was shaped like a rose.

"Now, be quiet," Alara said, as she neared the door. "Even though your friend isn't sleeping, others are. Be considerate of the others."

"This is West's room?" Prussia asked, stepping up to the door. "Fancy."

"Also, don't try to hurt him," Alara said, turning the door knob and pushing the door open slightly. "He already has (America saw Prussia stiffen and pale, the blood finally wiped off his cheek), and he still hasn't healed."

"How… badly?"

Alara sighed. "It was about five days ago. Rather badly, when we took him in."

"Not what I wanted to hear," Prussia muttered.

As soon as Alara pushed the door open enough, Italy slipped in. Barely a second later, there was a squeal of "Germany!" Silently, America and Prussia peered through the door. Italy seemed to be squeezing the life out of Germany, who looked slightly uncomfortable as he tried to pry himself from Italy's hug. And America saw why Alara had said to be gentle around him. A scar ran across his face, and his other eye appeared somewhat whiter than the other eye. Other than that and a few scars (which were rather large), he looked like he always did.

The room itself was rather nice, yet simple. A blue blanket spread across the bed, which was supported by a cherry wood frame. The pillows on the bed were a plain white, and they appeared to be rather soft. The walls were a simple light tan, and the carpet on the floor was brown. An oak drawer sat across from the bed, a mirror resting atop it. A light, gauzy curtain covered the window in the room, which happened to be open. The room was illuminated by a light that hung from overhead, encased in a dome-like shell.

"Italy…" Germany growled lowly. "Get…off… me…"

"But, I haven't seen you since forever!" Italy wailed, squeezing Germany even more.

"And that was what? Five days ago?"

"It's nice to see you're still yourself, West," Prussia said, stepping into the room.

"You too, br—" Germany paused, then asked, "What happened?"

Prussia shrugged, stepping closer to Germany. "Same thing that happened to you, I guess." Each of the nations were stepping into the room, quietly looking around.

"What, being near clawed to death? I doubt it."

Before Prussia could say any more, France stepped in, saying, "Germany! It's nice to see you again! Tell me, is it quite nice here?"

"Minus the heckling guards and talking portraits?" Germany asked, prying himself out of Italy's grasp. "Yes, it is."

"Really?" America asked, following France. "That's all you can say? This place is awesome! The outside of it is—"

"I've never seen the outside," Germany coldly said.

"…Why not?"

"Considering I came in here unconscious, I don't think I cared much about the view."

Silence. Then, Austria stepped in, saying, "I am grateful you are doing better then, Germany."

"You too," Germany replied. "Besides, what took you so long in getting here?"

"We were left in a forest," America said. "Unlike some people."

Before Germany could reply with something equally vicious, Japan intervened. "America, it wasn't Germany's fault he found his way here. Perhaps you should view it as that we also managed to find our way here."

"Still," England said, picking up a rose carved into jet, "how did you get here, Germany?"

"A very long story that can—"

"Err…Ludwig?" someone asked, as they peered through the doorway. He was a short man, shorter than Japan, and he had mousy grey hair that was quickly combed back. He had orange-ish eyes that peeked out from the strands of hair. He had a small, pointed nose, and a rounded face.

"Yes, Alreich?" Germany asked, looking confused.

"Evacuation orders in place by Raiden. You have to go to the Great Hall."

"Why?"

"Well, the Renwides… they've invaded the Netherworld and Aetherworld." And, from then on, there was no escaping the prophecy that would change the face of the Earth.

So, this brings chapter ten to a close! Sorry it took so long (and it's really long, the longest of them all), I'd been working on a new story (I still have no idea what to call it)! I'll let you guys sneak a preview of it, then? For the long wait? Also, congrats to Felix Baumgartner, the first skydiver to break the speed of sound!

The day managed to start off somewhat peacefully, yet haphazardly, with Germany barking (not yelling, thankfully) for everyone to take their seats and to be quiet. Of course, this was a welcome relief from all of the chaos there had been before the German had arrived and seen the mess they had created. The chaos had mostly consisted of England and France trying to severely harm each other, Italy wailing about the fact that he hadn't had pasta in a long time, America trying to pull England and France apart, China trying to calm everyone down with snacks, Japan quietly standing near the wall, afraid to get involved in the conflict, and Russia seemed to be talking to Latvia, though, from how Latvia trembled, it wasn't a particularly welcome one on Latvia's behalf.

After everyone had managed to find a spot and partially clean up the conference centre (there was still small plastic wrappers to some candy), the German then began to set strict time limits for each person to present, another time limit to question the person, and when they had (he said it as if the world would explode if this time limit was not adhered to), absolutely had to be done. America quickly tried to get Germany to allow them more time, but only succeeded in capturing about ten minutes, which was about the time it took for the American to wake up each morning. England protested the time limit, calling it "preposterous" and "ridiculous", but Germany told him that he would not, no matter how much bickering, whining, crying, or nonsense there be, change the time limit (in simpler terms, Germany told England that what he said was law, and any more acts of defiance would result in embarrassing blackmail from the picture file on Prussia's phone and expulsion from the meeting).

"Who wishes to start?" the German said, looking at the group of tired nations with a raised eyebrow. He clearly did not think this meeting was worth his time. It, quite possibly, wasn't even worth putting up with each of the Italians, both of whom could quite easily give him a headache.

The group looked at him dolefully, some starting to develop an interest with the eraser shavings on their paper and the smooth wooden table. America was happily doodling small T-Rex skeletons on his napkin, Italy was, as usual, sleeping, Japan quietly sat in his chair with his hands in his lap, France was flirtingly winking at one of the attendants, China was scribbling down some notes in Chinese, and Russia… well, Russia seemed to be staring off into space, quietly stating that the lights looked like sunflowers if he stared at them long enough.

"Not me," England muttered, crossing his arms while a cup of steaming tea cooled down. Greece glared at Turkey as he threw a paper wad (which sneakily enclosed a pebble-sized iron weight) at the Turk. Switzerland polished his gun, while Liechtenstein sat next to him, occasionally asking if she could pet one of Greece's many cats, to which Switzerland would reply that the cats were evil, and they could conceal poisonous fangs or deadly claws. After that, she went on to try and pick a small, yet complex lock her brother had given her with a bobby pin. Austria worked on composing his symphony, Hungary sitting next to him and saying that he was a musical genius. Romano hissed an Italian curse at Spain for being "too close", while Spain simply smiled and said that he looked adorable when he was mad.

"England, you go first," Germany finally said, concealing a slight smirk on his face as he took his seat next to Italy. The look on England's face was one of murderous intent.

"You bastard..." England hissed softly, glaring icily at Germany as he pulled open his briefcase in the seeming futile search for the collection of papers needed for the meeting.

As England finally found the papers and celebrated silently, America passed down the small drawing of the T-Rexes to Germany and asked if it looked good. Germany passed it back, shrugging, saying that he could barely draw a "stick figure". Japan quietly pulled out a GameBoy and started playing Pokémon, the unmistakable tune catching the American's attention.

"Is that Pokémon?" America quietly asked Japan. Japan looked up briefly, then returned back to the game, the lights turning the color of his face shades of green, blue, orange, and yellow.

"Yes," Japan replied.

"Which version?"

"Soul Silver."

"Ah, dude, I loved that version!"

"America, you bloody git, focus for once!" England harshly reprimanded.

"Lend it to me some time," America quickly whispered, before turning back to England.

"Everyone knows what this meeting's about, correct?" England said, sounding quite bored. The other nations, who were too preoccupied with whatever they were doing, looked up, expecting England to repeat what he had just said.

England sighed, more annoyed than tired. "The topic of the meeting?"

There were murmurs of agreement; they all knew what the meeting was about.

"Alright, then, you know its science. As Germany," he shot an icy glare across the room at Germany, before returning back to shuffling his papers, "said, we have this meeting every half year (or even every three months, depending on if there were any major scientific breakthroughs) on the birthday of the hosting nation (even if it is false, in some cases), to discuss major topics of science, advancements, and any knowledge or hypotheses we might have about these problems."

"Sure," America said, starting to draw a rather precise triceratops skeleton alongside of the T-Rex ones. "Cancer, AIDS, sickle cell, autism, and all of the other diseases we have. Parasites, mutations, bacteria, virus, and fungi." America looked up, his blue eyes peering over the rims of his glasses. "Or, is it general science this year, and not medical science? Last year, it dealt with astronomy and what-not, right? This one isn't about water or earth sciences?"

"Correct," England replied, with a raised eyebrow. "Now, this year's meeting is based on medical sciences. For those who don't know (I don't know how you couldn't know), medical science is the advancement in the study of diseases (pathology) and ways to combat the diseases through better medicine. This includes lab-made ones, herbal ones, or even surgery and other variations. Any questions?"

America's hand shot up, and before England could even talk, he began, "I heard there was this parasite that lived in rats' brains, and they literally controlled the rat and made it get eaten by cats. Is it true?"

"Yes," Germany replied, pulling a manila folder out of his black suitcase, opening it and flipping through several pages before stopping at one. "Toxoplasma gondii. About one third to half of the world population has it."

"Does it affect us at all?"

"Slightly. There is a chance it can affect patients with depression and those that have a dopamine deficiency disorder, such as ADD and ADHD, though more research is needed."

"Dude…" America quietly said. "That's so cool…"

"It isn't if you're a rat."

"Talking about mice and rats," Japan said, "Germany, you mentioned a study where they implanted light-sensitive chemicals and a fiber-optic into a mouse's brain. Correct?"

"I know what you're talking about!" America said, sounding almost prideful and awed at the same time. "They could control the mouse through the fiber-optic cable and this laser that was mounted on their head. It was so cool, you should've seen it!"

"We should have," England muttered. "Back to the topic. This time, the meeting will centre around something that always manages to stir up controversy everywhere."

All of the nations stared at him curiously.

"Cloning."