Ready for some more? Are you sitting comfortably? I don't own Hetalia.

"Alfred, it's head of the CIA, we have a problem."

"Wha... What? What's happened?"

"Remember those agents you met? Agent McCoy? The McCoy you met was an impostor, the real one has been found tied up in an abandoned warehouse. The imposter has since vanished with the file on nations, to an unknown location."

"...Is the real McCoy alright?"

"She's shaken, but otherwise unharmed. She says she was abducted after she was told to attend the meeting by a group of masked people who waited for her to come home. We think that whoever they were, they intercepted internal encrypted emails containing information about the meeting and Agent McCoy."

"They intercepted emails... From the CIA?"

"Yes, yes, I know. Whoever they are, we're looking at highly sophisticated cybercriminals, quite likely those at the heart of the leak on the forum. These people are intent on revealing the existence of the nations to the wider world."

"...shit."

"You got that right."

"Mind if I tell Germany about this? He's the one contacting everyone about the latest developments."

"Not at all, it's in everyone's interest. Oh, and one other thing, we've been doing some digging on those three users. Aethr seems to be American, Terra is apparently British and Judj is Russian. People are getting too close, we've been trying to steer them away from the truth, but we aren't winning."

"Okay, thanks for telling me."

He hung up, thinking about what he had just been told. The false McCoy had been fascinated by the file, but thinking back, she didn't seem all that surprised, like she had been acting. He supposed she was in the end, but how she had managed to fool the CIA into thinking she was someone she wasn't was astonishing.

He went downstairs, grabbing something for breakfast, and was munching it as he turned on the TV. It was on the news, and the story they were covering at the moment was a shooting in Paris...

"Police have issued an image of a person they want to speak to in connection with the recent shooting in Paris. The image is of a young woman, possibly 25-30 years old, with long brown hair, which was tied in a ponytail at the time of the shooting. She was last seen talking to the victim, just before he was shot. The victim has still not been identified, and police say they have no leads on his identity. We'll bring the latest to you as it comes in."

The image of the woman on the screen... It was the fake McCoy.

Canada had kept up to date with the website ever since he had got home, and had been watching things develop. Right now, he was going through the thread yet again, curled up on the bed like had been when he had first found it. They had been getting close, but now they might have just figured it all out, as one had posted: They seem to be present at key events affecting their respective countries, and some on the diaries mention them being symbols of legitimacy, power and nationality. Maybe they represent countries, like living nations?

This idea had caught on like wildfire. It explained everything as far as they were concerned, and they were right. ...Perhaps they were too late after all.

This theory had also sparked debate, and it made him feel dizzy and sick. They were discussing, in the event of the strange people being living nations, whether they were guilty of crimes committed by countries. ...Germany's name was mentioned a lot...

They may have fought on different sides, but Canada knew what position Germany had been in during that time. They represented the people, first and foremost, and the feelings of their people leeched into their hearts. ...Germany had been scared, though that fear had been buried out of necessity.

Canada shook his head. They always got swept along while people made the decisions controlling their fate. He knew vaguely of what had happened to France during the revolution; he had been imprisoned for a time, and they had even tried to execute him at one point, which had failed. Whenever revolution or civil war came, they were caught in the crossfire.

What was the analogy Francis had made a long time ago...? ...like in chess, they were the kings. The game rested on them, and if they were captured it was the end of the game, but they could do very little themselves, little more than pawns. Hell, a pawn could become a queen in certain circumstances, but they had no way out.

...something caught his eye. : I think some of the diary entries mention them being captured and tortured, as well as suffering injuries due to turmoil in their countries. Wouldn't trying them for the crimes of their government or army be like trying every one of their citizens? Or at least trying an innocent person for something they had no control over? They don't sound like the invisible masterminds some of you seem to think they are.

..perhaps they were too late, but also perhaps there was a glimmer of hope.

The phone rang again, capturing his attention from the news channel. He picked it up from where he had left it and answered it.

"Alfred? Is everything alright over there?"

Iggy. Why was he calling... Unless what he had feared had happened. "Yeah, things... Well, something's happened."

"...what kind of something? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Artie, but a CIA agent that was told about the existence of nations turned out to be an impostor, and now she's on the run with the file on us."

"...shit."

"That's what I said. What's got you so worried that had to call to check on me? It's not like that I can't handle things myself."

"See the news about that shooting in Paris? The person who was shot was France."

"...I kinda had a feeling that was what you were gonna say. Is he alright?"

"Yes, he's fine, I spoke to him. He woke up in a morgue, but he's otherwise fine now."

"...You know, I don't think I've ever looked forward to a world meeting so much in my life."

"I know what you mean. Last night Iain decided to go drinking and got so pissed he started telling everyone about us. I doubt many believed him, but after I dragged him out, some man stopped us. ...I'm convinced he was taunting us, he just casually dropped my name into the conversation… France said the woman who distracted him knew his name too. They may have gotten hold of that file you mentioned... What exactly was in it?"

"Basic info on nations, some more detailed info on me. I'm not totally sure what was in it, but I definitely told them my full name."

"...We may be too late to stop this from coming out, and now we've got a group tracking us down, a group that's already shot France... Be careful, Alfred."

"I'll try. Bye, Artie."

Careful wasn't a word that would be applied to Italy. Currently, he was wandering through his streets, enthusiastically greeting locals and tourists alike. He hadn't picked up his mobile, nor checked his emails or seen the news, and was completely unaware of what had happened to France. Perhaps if he had, he wouldn't have been so cheerful.

He stopped when someone tapped his shoulder. He turned, to see a young woman standing there, bag over her shoulder and sunglasses on her head. "Hey, you seem to be well known round here, what's your name?"

"Huh? Ciao! My name's Feliciano! Are you a tourist? I can give you some great tips for places to see!"

"Actually, I need you to answer some questions about something." She took a collection of papers out of her bag. "Do you know any of the people in these drawings?"

People passed by, paying no attention as Italy examined the drawings.

"...Those are my drawings! How... What... Who are you?"

"That's none of your concern. I suggest you answer the question."

"...Those are my friends... Where are my real sketches, please?!"

"Safe. I might give them back if you tell me your full name and the names of the people in the drawings."

"...I... I don't know their names."

"You don't? How are they your friends if you don't know their names?"

"..." Tears began to well up in Italy's eyes.

"I do hope you're not lying. You can at least tell me your full name, or no sketches."

"...Feliciano Vargas. Please, where are they?"

"Ah-ah, not just yet. What exactly are you?"

"...I can't..."

"You can't? A shame. No sketches then."

"Wait! Please! I'm... I'm Italia Veneziano."

"...Veneziano? ...North Italy then?"

"...sì."

"What relation is Italy Romano to you?"

"...He's my fratello..."

"What's his name?"

"...Lovino Vargas. Please-"

"Two more questions. Did the Roman Empire have a nation?"

"Sì, Roma was my nonno..."

"Last one. Who is the young nation here, dressed in the hat and cloak?"

"That's... Holy Rome. Please, I want them back!"

"Hmm? I only said I might give them back."

Tear filled eyes hardened, and anger flashed across Italy's face. "But... That's not fair!"

There was an ugly smirk on her face. "Life isn't fair. I thought you would have learnt that in more than a thousand years. You've been a great help."

As she turned away, Italy looked around, noticing a broom propped up against a nearby wall. He grabbed it, a strange fury gripping him, and he lunged at her with it, hitting her.

She fell to the ground with a cry. People who had not noticed the exchange between the two now stopped and stared, locals wondering what had happened to the normally happy man to cause him to strike someone.

He held out the broom like a sword, pointing it at her. "Where are they? Who are you? Why are you after us? I've got questions of my own!"

She looked back at him, still smirking. "Too bad you won't hear the answers."

A shot rang out in the plaza.

STUFF

GETS

SERIOUS

MYAHAHAHAHA

I love writing this. I have so many plans... :3

Yes, her name was foreshadowing. XD Hehehehe, keep guessing at what might happen, you might get it right. Try and not spoil others through reviews, though. ;)

Hope you are enjoying this, I certainly am. :D