A few nations attended Luxembourg's funeral. France had brought Austria and Liechtenstein, and Spain and Portugal had showed up as well. The other nearby nations messaged Netherlands apologies, saying that they were simply too afraid to venture. The Nordics gave him lengthy condolences, but as expected, they stayed where they were.

So with his soldier beside him, Netherlands cried silently in front of the grave with a faint, visible trembling of his frame. It was all for show again; the ability to cry crocodile tears was coming easier to him. During this time he felt no grief. In the cruel irony that overwhelmed the funeral, he only felt the usual massive headache that forced away all unwanted emotions.

He was showered in pity and comfort. He hardly spoke and it concerned everyone else. To them, he knew that he would look wretched with his red eyes that were ringed deep, ungelled hair, and a body covered in bandages. They no longer ignored him as they had online. That day they spoke to him softly and kindly, and he went around taking hugs and crying weakly over shoulders.

Netherlands knew he had won. All traces of suspicion were officially off him thanks to everything he had meticulously planned in his mind and carried out. Now he could feel freer to participate in the mission physically, once he had recovered from his wounds. After all, he could wait the week or more that it would take to be strong again. There was no particular rush.

Before he left, he told them that his rabbit had escaped his house when Germany and Russia had attacked him. They gave him more pity, then with the subject of pets on the go, they remembered Perlutze. Netherlands knew that they would think of him. He was ready when France asked, "Are you taking care of your brother's dog?"

"No," Netherlands murmured in reply. "I have so much to do, I couldn't possibly and… I don't want to be constantly reminded of him. But I contacted his boss and he said that he could take him in."

Part of what he had said was true. He did have a lot to do, just not what everyone else would believe. He had also called Luxembourg's boss, who had truly accepted to give Perlutze a home. Netherlands did this because the dog, the witness to the murder, could not be seen acting strange in his presence.

Then he acted more like his normal self would have, asking about business and wondering if they could ship him goods to sell. This seemed to ease them as they all walked out of the cemetery at his slow pace. He knew they had wanted to see him better, back on the tracks of his money-obsessed personality. They immediately and gladly conversed with him about this until Netherlands carefully set himself into the passenger seat of his car and was driven away.

On the drive, Netherlands commented, "I think I am bleeding a bit."

He lifted his shirt and held the end between his teeth as he looked down at his stomach. Sure enough, he could see red soaking through the white. He also checked the deep wound on his shoulder and found that the day's activity had also caused this one to bleed as well.

Hendrik glanced at him for a few long seconds then back at the road. He said nothing to him. Netherlands sat forward slightly and asked, "Why are you so quiet today?"

"I am just thinking," he replied.

"About what?"

"Oh, about everything you've accomplished. That's all."

Netherlands had the tingling impression that the soldier was not being honest.

You do not trust him? the voice challenged him.

These are my instincts, he thought back. Don't shut them off. It is for the better of the mission if you let me be wary of things, even him.

Not of him. You are not allowed to distrust him.

Netherlands lost interest in the matter after he was told this. Fear and suspicion dropped away as they walked back into what was now to be his home: Hendrik's house. Netherlands left Hendrik and went on ahead to the living room where all his bandages had been stockpiled. He sat down on the floor and stretched out his legs. He carefully removed the bloody bandage over his thigh and wrapped it with something fresh. Everything else on his legs and arms were fine, so he proceeded to pull off his shirt.

Netherlands was in the midst of preparing another bandage for himself. He did not notice how close the soldier had crept up to him for Hendrik had moved silently and Netherlands had been looking down. He was startled when Hendrik whispered by his ear, "Let me help you with that."

He mindlessly agreed. Hendrik sat down behind him and moved closer. He unraveled the bandage and took the fresh one Netherlands handed him. He very slowly wrapped it around the wounds all over his abdomen, every touch lingering for just a little too long. Netherlands' hairs raised, but his emotions were stifled enough that he said nothing and did not think too much about it.

"Where else?" Hendrik whispered again.

"Whatever looks red," Netherlands rumbled back.

Netherlands passed him everything. He sat still as the other bandages damp with blood were removed and replaced. Hendrik soothed his hands over every completed change, gliding over the bandages and a bit of skin before he lifted his fingers. He shifted closer to Netherlands. He set his chin over his uninjured shoulder and murmured, "How's that?"

Netherlands stood up abruptly and walked away, beginning to put his shirt back on. A small sense of relief came to him to have escaped the soldier's touch, but then it shattered when his wrist was snatched. He gasped as Hendrik muttered in a low voice that Netherlands had never heard from him before, "You should be thankful when I am kind."

It spooked him. He tried to wrench his hand free, but the grip tightened.

"I am," he replied quickly as his heart rate increased.

"You know," Hendrik growled, "no one ever said that I have to be nice to you."

Netherlands became all too aware of his physical condition. He was covered in injuries and weak. Growing more concerned, he said, "Let go of me."

The soldier pulled him sharply. Netherlands stumbled into him and his other wrist was caught. He hissed automatically, "What are you doing?"

Hendrik smashed his face into his, aggressively attacking it with his lips. Netherlands panicked and tried to pull away. They were swung around and when Netherlands scrambled backwards, he fell back into the couch. His arms were pulled apart and he struggled to breathe. He turned his head away then snarled, "Get the hell off me! I'll-"

"What?" Hendrik stopped and fixed him with a rabid glare. "Kill me? You can't. You can't even touch me. Without me, you have no protection. You would fail the mission if I wasn't around."

Netherlands glared back then shot open his eyes as his lips were captured again. He managed to bite him this time and draw blood. Hendrik promptly jammed his finger into the wound on his shoulder and Netherlands cried out.

"I can do anything to you," he spat, "and you can't do a single thing about it. No one can help you. I choose whether to treat you well or as an object, because to our organization, you are one. You are property and right now you are my property."

"No!" Netherlands gasped. "Don't do this!"

Netherlands' fear heightened rapidly. He struggled despite his damaged muscles until Hendrik uttered, "Subdue him."

Number Five is out of control, the voice said, although Netherlands was now sure it was only the commanding person talking to someone else. I have to increase components majorly.

A second later his spine and head were seized with incredible pain. Netherlands yelled again although he fought to hang onto his fear. His real emotions- such things he could never grasp for long anymore. He thought frantically, Don't do this. You know what he is going to do to me! Why are you letting him do this?

He had not spoken out loud, but the soldier nipped his ear and told him, "I can cleanse you, Number Five."

The pain in his head and spine amplified. His vision began to blur as he felt displaced. All of Netherlands' emotions were snatched away and he could no longer resist. He had lost the ability to care. He was still aware of everything that progressed, but at the time he could no longer feel anything at all.

He was crying.

The water that cascaded from the shower head ran over his skin, soaking his bandages, but he was beyond caring. Netherlands was so full of nothingness that he was going through his routine. Like after he had gone and completed a kill, he came here to wash all the filth away. Yet, something inside him was not overpowered. He was still left in a quiver and he stared forward with huge eyes that spilled constant tears as he washed himself over and over again.

At one point all he could do was lean against the wall and sob silently. He did not quite understand it, why he was crying when he felt such little sadness. So many chemicals were in him, taking over his mind, but nevertheless this escaped him. When he finally pulled himself out from the shower, he dropped over the sink and cried over it. One-by-one, tears splattered on the marble as he mouthed the names of his siblings repeatedly.

Belgium… Luxembourg…

They are demon filth. Do not concern yourself with them.

"Shut up!" Netherlands choked.

Stop resisting us.

"I don't want a part of this." Netherlands collapsed over the counter, dropping his warm face into one hand.

You must be running low. You must have maintenance done in order to get you back to how you were.

Netherlands squeezed his eyes closed and screamed, "Get the fuck out of my head!"

The headache and spine pain were disappearing. His mind was lifting from its stiff haze, causing him to cry more.

"You all are sick," he sobbed. "You made me… you made me kill my whole family! Why, oh my god…"

He began to sob harder until he felt as though he was choking on his own tongue. He remembered in a flash executing Sweden and he wailed. The memory was utterly vivid. He could see how Sweden's head opened and he could still remember the feel of hot gore spraying his face. Netherlands promptly turned and vomited into the sink.

We have extra components prepared. You will be taken to headquarters.

"No!" he screeched. "No!"

He lunged for the door. He unlocked it and dove straight into Hendrik. Netherlands fought madly and escaped the hands that tried to secure him. He tripped once but got up instantly despite all the cuts that were now ripping open over his body. Cuts and stab wounds that he could now fully feel. Netherlands crashed into the table, dripping blood from his soaked bandages. He snatched his cell phone, was frantically unlocking it, when hands snatched his waist.

The soldier threw him down and yanked the phone from his grasp before tossing it away. Netherlands panicked as he was dragged back to his feet and his arms were locked.

"We are leaving immediately!" Hendrik called.

Netherlands squirmed to escape. He shrieked, "You are a twisted, religious piece of shit!" Blood burst from his barely scabbed wounds. "You murderous, sexual monster! You call us demons? You fit the very definition of the word!"

"You are ignorant," Hendrik hissed. "You don't understand a thing!"

"You are insane! Nothing you say makes sense!"

Hendrik held both his wrists behind his back with one hand and he choked Netherlands with the other. He took him to the kitchen and whipped him to the floor. Netherlands hollered in pain and was stunned for a few seconds, rasping for breath. He heard clanging on the counter then water running. He tried to make it to his feet but soon Hendrik snatched his neck and squeezed again. Netherlands was dragged up to the fridge and pressed against it until his face went a deep shade of red.

When he was released, a glass was forced against his lips. Netherlands tried to inhale but water was poured down his throat and he spluttered. He breathed through his nose until it was held and the water filled his mouth. He refused to swallow until the burn in his lungs was unbearable and his thoughts became lethargic. Eventually he swallowed it all and gasped desperately for air.

Hendrik flashed his eyes over his naked body then back to his face. He muttered, "This won't happen again, Five. From now on you're getting maintenance done every week."

"No," Netherlands whispered as he felt himself rapidly becoming drowsy. "Don't make me do anything again. Please…. please, I beg you… anything..."

All he received was a callus smile. Netherlands' head fell to the side and he noticed then one of his flower pots in the corner. He had completely forgotten about his tulips but now he remembered them. Not that it mattered anymore, for it was too late to do anything for them.

Before the final moments of his terrified sanity came to an end, he had seen that the flowers were all dead.

"What?" Turkey exclaimed when he had first laid his eyes upon America's post. "Does he honestly expect everyone to go to that?"

He scrolled down and continued reading. What followed next was more comforting, but he was nonetheless, uncomfortable by the idea. Unsure of what decision to make, he sought out a second opinion and he called Greece.

"Hey, have you read about what America wants us to do?" Turkey immediately leapt into the subject.

"Yeah," Greece replied, knowing in an instant whom he was speaking to. "I just saw it. He-"

Turkey burst out, "He wants us to have a meeting and discuss the problem! Isn't that just ridiculous?"

"Maybe," Greece spoke slowly as he pondered, "but I can see why he wants to do it. After all, everyone's been trying their own thing and are only failing. Five of us are dead and so many others have barely escaped death too."

"So you're thinking of going, then?"

He replied, "It seems like a good idea, only because NATO is going to secure an area for us. He did write that they would block off and arm the streets around the building with one hundred soldiers and have people watching radar for incoming aircraft."

Turkey nodded to himself. "He mentioned getting a bomb squad just in case and having the building checked thoroughly beforehand."

"It will be fine, I think," Greece murmured.

"It just sounds so risky, putting us all together!" Turkey protested.

"Yes, but, it is optional. You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"If you go, could you tell me the plan?" Turkey asked. "I still don't want to miss that!"

"If we come up with something," Greece sighed. "You know how our meetings sometimes go."

"But you are certain? You are going?"

"Might as well. And you're not?"

Turkey said, "No… I'd rather stay here."

"Suit yourself."

"You trying to imply something?"

"No."

Turkey argued, "Hey, if you think that I'm just saying no like I'm some kind of coward, let me tell you-"

Greece hung up. Turkey exhaled and put down his phone, his short-lived anger already cooling.

"They better not all get killed," he grumbled.

He wandered over to another table, scratching at the facial hair on his chin. Turkey felt rather secure where he was in the world, so far from the uproar in West Europe. He had a cluster of other countries between him and the danger. The last recorded attack was on Netherlands less than a week ago. If they were on their way to him, he would hear it first from every country they would assault on the way to the East. Czech could be next and perhaps Slovakia, then likely Ukraine, Moldova, Romania, and Bulgaria, before they would target either him, Greece, or the other Balkan countries just a bit to the West.

Turkey thought like many others did that the Baltic house was the upcoming target, thus right now he was sure that he had plenty of time to get in gear and protect himself.

I am safe here. There's no way I'm just going to get up and go to France for a meeting that might turn out to be pointless!

Turkey made himself a cup of coffee then carried it to a window. He opened it and rested the arm holding the cup on the ledge. He took a sip, sighed, then an arrow struck him in the throat. He could not scream. The mug fell over the ledge and shattered on the ground as he collapsed. He lay on the floor for an excruciating half-minute, trying to remove the arrow but only succeeding in breaking it and drenching his hands in hot wetness. Eventually a white and black face appeared at the window and he stared at it in shocked horror as he sat up.

Turkey wanted to talk, but he could only mouth his terrified blubber and back away. A loaded bow popped up and fired before he could dodge it. An arrow sank into his forehead and he fell back down onto his side. The third arrow sank through his eyeball and embedded itself into his brain.

The second figure came up to the side of the first and together, they fired arrow after arrow into him. Turkey went limp once he easily resembled a pin cushion. Germany slid through the window and walked up to him. He checked for vital signs, found none, then turned around and exited the way he had come in.

Russia and Germany crept away from the house and returned to the black-windowed vehicle that was parked in the currently vacant driveway next door. Once they were enclosed, it pulled away and calmly left as though it had all the time in the world. Turkey was abandoned entirely, left as a surprise for whoever would try to find him later.

Fire and Brimstone did not appear like the mental image Netherlands had created after hearing of the name. He had expected dark halls that were cracked and leaking unknown substances, locked rooms where occasionally screams emanated from, and tall scientists behind towering, faded lab coats. Netherlands was therefore surprised when he lifted his head and was nearly blinded by the shine of the silver and white-surfaced room. He saw polished boots thump across the floor then his head was raised and a light was shined into his eyes.

"He is awake," announced a voice thick with a Slavic accent.

Netherlands felt incredibly fatigued, stuck slouched on a metal operating table for the moment. He was aware of the dry, fresh bandages wrapped around the injuries that did not hurt so much anymore. He could also feel the clothes he had been fitted into. They were familiar as well; they were undoubtedly his.

He let his head flop onto his shoulder as he took a look around. Everything that he saw was in a strict state of cleanliness: the floor, walls, tables, counters, and tools. He saw quite a few people wandering around the room, sanitizing the equipment and putting them away. Not one of them wore a mask like what he was used to seeing on them. He saw their faces now and it came to him as a sense of reality. They were not just a force. They were individuals, every one of them.

He tried to get up to escape, but it had been like the last time Hendrik had drugged him. His legs failed him and he dropped but he was caught instantly and set back on the operating table. Netherlands' vision of people moving blurred for a second as he mumbled, "We are not demons… St-stop doing this..."

Only one looked over at him with a glare. The others observed him in confusion and Netherlands realized that they had not understood the Dutch he had spoken. He was about to repeat himself in English but then he twitched as he heard in his mind, Number Five, rebooting.

He went rigid as the usual rush of chemicals flooding him occurred. It took hardly any time before his fright and will to resist were gone and he was as sharp as he had been on the first day of his infection.

He was posed one question.

What is your purpose?

Netherlands thought in a heartbeat, To eradicate the world of the nations.

Excellent. You may go back with the guard.

Those in the room watched him until he raised his head up straight and made the sign of the cross. Netherlands got up this time and he left the room unchallenged. He was given directions in order to navigate the building himself and all those he passed in the hall respectfully moved out of his way.

This place is so large, he thought.

It used to be a business cooperation, since run out of money. We have been bringing in equipment and qualified people for over a decade here.

Netherlands asked, Where do you get the money?

The Dutch supporters have jobs here, but regarding everyone else, their relatives donate to us. Not to mention the main donations we get from our churches.

As he spotted the front door and headed towards it, he thought, So you run your own churches. Is this where the followers come from?

We started small a long time ago and have since spread to new locations in different European countries. By word of mouth as well, we have received new members of our churches- those who are truly the most dedicated to the Bible.

And you developed the technology here once you had enough money, he summarized.

Yes, although we have since run out of the technology. We have only the components now- those chemicals that we had to refill in you. We have a lot left, especially now that Number Three and Four have been lost to us.

"What do you mean, Four is lost to us?" Netherlands demanded. "Are we not going to try to get him back?"

1:33 p.m. today, Number Four went offline.

"Is he dead?"

The trigger response was not activated. The surgery done on him was… successful.

"You're kidding!" he snarled. "You had over a week to retrieve him and you did not stop this? I needed another intelligent model!"

He was too heavily guarded. Attempts to get near all ended in failure. We lost too many members. Number Four had to be abandoned.

"He only got two before he got caught! What a waste!"

A voice chuckled, "Talking to yourself makes you look insane, you know."

Netherlands looked to his right and saw Hendrik leaning against the wall. He was giving him a smirk and his eyes were gleaming.

"I heard just now about Number Four," Netherlands muttered.

"I just heard about that myself," the soldier said. "But it will be fine. Did you hear about Number One and Two's success?"

"Not yet," he replied.

"They were taken to Turkey first, and they eliminated him."

Netherlands felt a burst of elation within him. His face lifted and he asked enthusiastically, "Where are they off to next?"

"China. I looked at your computer while I was waiting and I saw everyone's posts. China posted that Hong Kong is coming over to live with him, so I went and recommended that location."

He could see his laptop in its case, the handle grasped by Hendrik. Netherlands went on to ask, "How will they get Number One and Two that far?"

"Someone told me that they're going to try and board trains illegally. That's at least how they made it to Turkey so fast."

Netherlands nodded in satisfaction. He did not want to wait long between kills. His heart fluttered in his chest as he longed for more of everything. More action, blood, and death. He craved it all immensely. The aches under his bandages were like a burning motivation to push through anything that got in the way.

"Come." Netherlands stalked ahead of his soldier and threw open the door.

Hendrik caught up to him, breathing out, "Gladly."

When the soldier started to laugh softly to himself, Netherlands looked at him in confusion. He asked, "Why are you laughing?"

Hendrik smiled slowly. He watched how Netherlands blinked at him while trying to figure out the reason he was expressing humor. He did not reach a conclusion. His face changed and it seemed that he had become bored. Netherlands continued on outside and when he saw the car, he headed straight towards it.

They drove back to the soldier's house and life continued on its meandering course.

A week passed since the funeral and Netherlands' wounds had all healed. He had since removed his stitches and whatever scars he had received from Russia, Germany, and the organization were fading into faint lines. He readjusted his scarf in the restroom however, taking extra care to cover the marks on his neck before he stepped back into the hall.

Netherlands came out just as Lithuania passed by. He followed him down a hall lined with grim-faced soldiers until they came to the room already half-filled with people. He strolled around the large table and stopped behind the spot beside Denmark, taking a moment to take off his coat and hang it over the chair's back before he seated himself.

Once comfortable, Netherlands now took the chance to look around and see who had come to the September meeting. There was already France, Austria, and Liechtenstein naturally, but then Spain, Portugal, North and South Italy, the three Nordics, Britain, Czech, and Lithuania were also in the room. Netherlands watched the door when Belarus and Ukraine entered soon followed by Japan, Croatia, Romania, and Bulgaria. A bit later, Greece made an appearance as did India.

In conclusion, America waltzed in chatting loudly to Canada, who stepped in quietly while looking around at everyone gathered at the table. Netherlands resisted to stare at the North American countries like a hawk would at game birds. He had to remain calm although the sight of them made him eager for murder. He could not go on airplanes anymore now that he had metal in him that would be detected through security. He could not go to North America, and even if he could, their countries were so vast they could hide themselves forever. The only option was to strike whenever they appeared on this continent.

Do not blow your cover, Netherlands was reminded.

I am not an idiot! he retorted mentally. I know today is about acting as a spy before anything else.

Yet Netherlands thought of the plastic bag tucked in the inner pocket of his coat. He was briefly launched into the memory of him preparing the contents. He had been training in the forest with Hendrik when he had come across a patch of poison hemlock growing on the border of the forest and a farm. He had taken off his shirt to wrap around the youngest, greenest plant to break it off at the stem. Once back, he had covered his skin and used gloves to protect himself when he ripped the leaves into small bits and tucked them into four sandwich bags.

He had brought one just in case an opportunity would arrive. If someone brought food and left it unattended, he might be able to sprinkle some poison hemlock over it. He would just have to time it so that the symptoms would not occur until after the meeting. It was a risk arriving with poison on him, but this was when his reputation could come in hand. When had received a quick check and pat down for weapons at the entrance, they had not found this bag, but even if they had caught him he could have faked irritation and made them believe that these were not but drugs.

Still, he could not help imagining what it would look like if he slit their throats with a trusty kitchen knife. He thought of how he murdered Sweden, and he decided that it was not as satisfying as it was when he had gained the trust of his prey and got them to come close to him. He thought of himself alone with one of them, blubbering out his woes so that he received enough pity to get a hug out of them. When so close, he could make a good strike. He just had to remember however, to hold tighter so that his victim would not fall out of his arms like Luxembourg had.

"Alright," America began. "Thanks for coming, everyone! I know none of you are comfortable coming here, but I'm glad you know that it's important. We have to act because it's just getting way out of hand now."

Everyone murmured and nodded in agreement.

"So," America continued. "There's a lot we don't know. Let's start with what we know! For one, we know for sure three who are infected: Germany, Russia, and Sweden."

Britain spoke up, "Why isn't Switzerland here? Couldn't he have helped us? Surely, he knows something?"

France murmured, "We keep trying to contact him, but he hardly responds. He did not want to see us although he did say that he would show up to this meeting."

"Is he late?"

"Yes, he just sent a message."

Britain said, "If it is true that they were getting smarter, then it would seem that Switzerland has a lot to say."

Netherlands thought, How much does he know?

The answer was, We never told him who we are and where we are. Your name was never mentioned either.

"Then there is the question of a fifth one," Norway brought up.

"Right," America said. "Is there though, or was that just a person of that organization helping out? We know that they come in sometimes in their costumes and kill people who are in the way. The person on the roof could have just been the driver."

"It is probable," Britain agreed. "But that still leaves five dead and one missing."

"Could be six dead," America frowned.

Netherlands had made sure he had started to tremble and stare down at the table with a shine in his eyes since they had first started talking about Belgium. Denmark was looking at him in concern from the side and Netherlands pretended not to notice. But now, after America's last statement, Netherlands took the chance to snap.

He smacked his fists on the table and rose up. He shouted, "She's not dead!"

The shock on the other faces was perfect. His outburst had startled America then left him with discomfort. Of course his sister's death was considered a possibility, but no one wanted to say such a thing to a person who they believed was sensitive from the grief of losing his brother. Even America could sense the mood that Netherlands had made up.

Everyone was silent. Denmark decided to touch his arm and say softly, "No one knows where she is. No one can say she is dead."

Netherlands lowered himself back into his seat and looked away, appearing slightly ruffled in embarrassment.

"Now, we know that we've been trying our own strategies," Britain recommenced the conversation. "Some of us have hired bodyguards, although that method seems to be unreliable for protection. Others have put alarms and traps in their yards, but none of Denmark's traps were triggered when he was attacked, and Luxembourg's alarms did not help either."

Netherlands became tense and he held his throat as though it hurt. He saw in his peripheral vision the Nordics giving him sympathetic looks.

"Then we have been moving in with each other," he continued. "And so far, that has been working well as long as a strict look-out system is maintained. Many who have been in groups have survived attacks. This could be our best defense plan."

There were nods, especially from those already moved in with others.

"Hungary and I were… not ready," Austria murmured. "But everyone else was. I think being in groups works."

Romano spoke up, "Seborga is going to live with us."

Croatia said, "And the Balkan countries are working something up."

From across the table, Spain looked at Czech and asked her, "You are alone still. Have you talked to Slovakia yet?"

"He's coming to my house," she replied. "Not that it means I'm giving up my independence, naturally!"

She had not needed to defend herself. None of the arrangements were indicating the joining of nations. All would work by themselves on their own assignments still and not have anyone superior in the household.

Lithuania, the representative of Latvia's stronghold, said, "No one should be alone. The first thing we should accomplish in this meeting is to get everyone to join forces with someone else."

"I suppose there's room at my place if anyone wants the advantage of being disconnected from the mainland," Britain offered.

Spain and Portugal were already at the same house. Ukraine and Belarus were as well and then Romania, Moldova, and Bulgaria were said to be together. Greece sighed, "I suppose I could work something out with Turkey. I can suck it up if it is so important…"

That covered every European nation at the table but one. Netherlands was finally asked by France, "Netherlands, do you have a plan?"

"I disagree," he muttered. "Sticking together makes you more obvious. I think the best option is to get a new house and hide somewhere isolated."

"Is that what you did?" Finland asked.

Netherlands nodded. "I have a new house, but I will keep the location a secret between my guard and boss. I did not want the law force to know where I was in case one of them would be threatened, so my guard goes out and vouches for me now and then."

"I still think it's better to do both," Portugal stated.

"I do not want to move in with anyone." Netherlands lowered his voice to stress that his decision would stay firm.

They left him alone once India asked, "Should the Asian nations do this too?"

"Yes," Britain replied. "We cannot assume that the madness is not going to strike Asia as well. I know you feel safe where you are, and that is the reason only three of you came here to Europe today. But China is right when he asked Hong Kong to move in with him."

"Hey." America looked around the table, then he raised his eyebrows. "Where is China?"

Everyone looked around, and Japan repeated, "China?"

"He said he was coming," America told them. "But he's not here."

Britain looked baffled. "I thought he was," he said as he gazed over every face at the table to confirm this.

Netherlands made sure to put a look of concern on his face.

"Call him then," Canada murmured. "He might be late."

"Yeah, maybe his flight got delayed." America nodded as he pulled out his cellphone.

He put the phone against his head and waited. Everyone stared at him as it just kept ringing until it reached voicemail. America tried to call again, but the same thing occurred. Netherlands had to force back the urge to grin. He noticed nations around himself growing worried, trying to figure out if the infected had leapt over countries to target China. No other reason jumped into their minds at this time. They were beginning to become terrified.

"Umm…" America trailed off.

"Call Hong Kong!" Britain gasped. "He said he was moving in with China today!"

America nodded as his face went pale. He looked at his phone again then searched through his contacts. He found Hong Kong then called him.

"Dude!" America exclaimed immediately. "Where are you?"

Everyone could hear Hong Kong through the phone as he replied, "Oh, I'm almost at China's. Well, not really. I seriously just got off the plane. I'm trying to get a taxi right now."

"When was the last time you contacted him?"

"Yesterday. He said he was going to your meeting."

America said, "I don't know if he boarded his plane. He's not here and he's not answering his phone."

"Didn't the meeting just start? His plane might just be late. Why all the panic?"

America quickly pressed, "Please, man, you have to check his house and see if he's okay. Just in case."

"Well yeah, I'm going there anyway"- Hong Kong stopped talking to him for a few seconds to converse in Cantonese to whom was likely to be a taxi driver which he had been seeking- "So of course I'll check. I might get caught up in traffic though, but I can call you back when I get there."

"Thank you," America sighed. "I just… it's unusual that he wouldn't send any kind of message saying that he was going to be late. So…"

"I got you," Hong Kong replied. "Talk to you later."

He hung up. Everyone in the room was now left in a state of unease. Their hairs were on end and their eyes shifty as legs and hands tapped. No one knew what to say, but then a distraction appeared. The door slowly opened and everyone turned their attention upon it.

Switzerland jolted and froze when all eyes flashed upon him. His eyes stretched open wide in fear and with his hand on the door, he took a step back. He accidentally made eye contact with Austria, then panicked. Switzerland inhaled sharply and disappeared around the corner. When they heard his footsteps heading away, America leapt up and raced to the door.

"No, wait- dude! We need your help!" he called down the hall.

Switzerland stopped and turned. He cast America then the soldiers around him a nervous glance. He was rooted to the spot with indecision. His mouth was pulled thin and it was plain to see that waves of thoughts were crashing in his mind. America was about to call out to him again, then a small form dashed out past him into the hall.

Liechtenstein gasped, "No, please don't run away!"

She hurried down the hall towards him. Switzerland scrambled backwards, holding out his hands as he yelped, "No, Liechtenstein! D-Don't… come near me…"

She stopped and stared at him with huge eyes that gleamed like gems. She whimpered, "Why…? I haven't seen you since you got all better."

Switzerland exclaimed, "How can you forgive me just like that?"

As he began to raise his voice, a few others from the room snuck out into the hall to see what was happening. The corner of Switzerland's eyes flooded over with tears as he looked over the arriving faces.

"Why don't you hate me?" he whispered. "I-I… I killed…"

"We know it wasn't you," Liechtenstein told him, her voice dropping in seriousness. "We only hate the people who made you do it."

Austria stepped out and strolled up to Liechtenstein's side. Austria's head was lowered like a wary animal approaching something possibly threatening and his eyes were wide with terror. Yet he was still there, saying, "Help us stop them, Switzerland."

Switzerland shivered as tears raced down each side of his face. He whined, "I'm so sorry… so sorry… I never wanted to do any of what I did… I could not control-"

"We know," Austria murmured. He looked afraid still, but Switzerland knew he was only haunted by the memories of what the body in front of him had done.

"And we want to know your story," Canada told him softly. "Come in, please, and sit with us."

Switzerland moved forward carefully. Many turned around to go back into the room and reclaim their previous seats. Switzerland stepped in unhindered but stopped near the table. Liechtenstein took his hand and he gasped quietly. She led him to a chair between her and France that had been left unoccupied. Switzerland slid into it and immediately tensed up. The last few sat down, then looked at him beseechingly.

Switzerland swallowed, then said quietly, "I remember everything."

"So you are different than Germany and Russia," Netherlands said.

Switzerland dipped his head and replied, "Yes."

No one wanted to speak at first, worried that they might all slew questions at him and startle him. Liechtenstein asked after a silence, "You told me that you heard voices."

"The entire time, someone was talking to me in my head," Switzerland said. "But the thing was… they messed with my emotions, making me agree with everything they said. I had no control at all. They could make me feel an anger beyond anything I had ever experienced before. Blind rage and hatred for whoever, be it my family… or friends…"

"Did you learn anything about that person?" Britain asked.

"They spoke German," Switzerland mumbled, "and they mentioned an organization, but I don't know anything else about it except that it has supporters from all over Europe and their goal is to kill all of us. I was made to desire that goal as well. They had such control… if I tried to rationalize anything, they would force me to lose interest and to not think about it. That is how I forgot some things. How I forgot to be logical."

He glanced at Italy and Romano.

"You never met up with the other ones, did you?" France prompted him.

"No, I never saw them," Switzerland replied. "Although… they were mentioned. They always called them as numbers. Germany was Number One. Russia was Number Two. Sweden Three, and I was Number Four. Every time they addressed us, they refused to call us anything else. I started calling us by the numbers as well, thinking of us as models of a project. They said I was almost perfect, but that Number Five was perfection. And they wanted me to meet with Number Five, but I never got to."

"Is Number Five Belgium? Do you know?" Denmark asked.

"I do not know who it is, because they always said Number Five only," Switzerland answered him. "But… I know it is not Belgium."

"How?" America inquired.

"Because," Switzerland said. "When they spoke of Number Five, they would say he and him a lot."

Jaws dropped.

"Hold on!" Britain cried. "Are you saying that someone else is infected?"

America protested, "But no one else is missing!"

"Unless it is someone we thought to be dead," France mused.

Austria replied, "No chance. Those who are dead are certainly dead."

Denmark pounded the table once for attention. Everyone went quiet and looked his way.

"Look," Denmark uttered. "This Number Five would have been active for weeks according to what Switzerland said. And if it is not Belgium, then it means one thing only: there is a wolf among us."

All were startled in their seats. Gasps and cries were emitted and everyone stared around the room at each other.

"Not someone in the room particularly," Denmark continued, "but a European nation is infected and none of us know it. I was afraid this would happen. Every model was made smarter. After Switzerland, the organization managed to create Number Five, the one who can blend in with the others to escape detection."

"But what of Belgium?" Netherlands cried.

Denmark frowned as he looked at him. "I don't think she's around anymore…"

Netherlands' face tightened and he made a small mewling sound in his throat. He wrapped his arms around himself and squeezed. He whispered, "No, please don't say that."

"I'm… sorry," Denmark murmured.

Netherlands made sure to give the wood of the table a wide-eyed stare. He parted his lips slightly and let his vision blur to make himself appear unfocused and trapped in his mind. He was still aware of his surroundings in reality, however. He was listening intently to the conversation.

"Then we need to find out who that Number Five is." America put a fist down onto his palm.

"That must have been the roof shooter!" Finland exclaimed. "So someone who is nearby enough that they would not get caught gone for too long!"

"It was none of us!" Lithuania threw out. "We do not leave the house!"

"It is easy to eliminate a lot of suspects, just because so many live together," Spain explained. "So we can look at whoever lives alone."

Netherlands felt satisfaction inside when eyes did not look his way, but Britain's.

"What? Me?" Britain looked shocked.

"You are one of the only ones alone," Denmark said. "It might just be you."

"It is not me!" Britain argued. "Don't accuse me when there are plenty of others to accuse!"

"Do you think it is a Balkan country?" Greece slowly said.

"No." Switzerland shook his head. "I was told to head Northwest after I took out Italy. I remember that, although they never said which country we would meet in."

"Look, there are still others," Britain defended himself. "Micronations, likely."

"Northern micronations?" Denmark tilted his head. "They're just kids!"

Everyone looked doubtful and back to Britain.

"What about Netherlands?" Britain waved a hand in his direction. "He lives alone too, and in the area of action!"

Netherlands looked up slowly and murmured a pathetic, "Wha…?"

Denmark jumped in, "He's already been proven innocent countless times over! He went through interrogations, had his house searched many times, and he was given a guard specifically to watch his actions! He has done nothing!"

Norway contributed, "Germany and Russia nearly killed him, let's not forget…"

Netherlands looked around himself with fake fear, pleading with shining eyes for everyone to listen to Denmark and Norway. He won their sympathy. Everyone put their focus back on Britain.

"I offered for people to come stay with me!" he exclaimed. "If I had done that to kill them, it would have proven that I was Number Five- which I am not! And if any of you had accepted, I could not go out and help kill nations, now could I?"

"No one was going to accept, that might be why you said it," Romano countered.

"What? How could I have known others had already made arrangements if they said that after I made that offer!"

"Hey, guys- calm," America said. "I doubt it was Britain, but the solution is easy. He can just do what Netherlands did to prove his innocence."

"Interrogations?" Britain huffed. "Fine. I have nothing to hide!"

"You might need a guard too…" America added hesitantly.

Britain replied, "I don't care. I know I am not guilty and I am willing to prove it."

A ray of light beamed through the gap between the dusty curtains. Britain regarded the parallelogram of light it left on the table after he had spoken. That was when America's phone rang and he scrambled to answer it. At the sound, everyone sprang to attention, recalling in a flash China and feeling sudden stress.

"Alright, I'm coming up to his house," Hong Kong announced.

"Great, okay," America responded. He put the phone on speaker, raised the volume, then set it on the table.

They heard footsteps on pavement then a thud. There was a jingle, then Hong Kong's voice reporting, "The door's locked. I think he's out, but he gave me a key."

They heard the door unlock then Hong Kong calling, "China? Are you home?"

No answer. They heard Hong Kong's breaths and footsteps as he explored the house.

"No, he's not home," Hong Kong told them. "The plan was that he would go to the meeting and I would arrive while he was gone and watch over the place until he came back. So he's still not there?"

"No. He's not," America replied.

"Maybe he's late but forgot his phone?" Hong Kong offered.

"I don't know. Someone can try calling it and you can see if it is there."

France told everyone, "I can call him."

He brought out his phone and looked for his number. As he did this, Hong Kong remarked, "But it would be really strange if he forgot his phone…"

"It's ringing," France proclaimed.

They waited. Hong Kong was silent for a few moments, then he said slowly, "Wait a second… I think I hear it." They heard his footsteps again on the wooden floor. "Yeah… It's coming from outside…?"

A door was heard sliding open. The footsteps on wood changed to footsteps on grass. Then, all noise stopped for a second before a scream broke through the speaker. Everyone jumped up from their seats gasping and yelling. America shouted, "Hong Kong? You there? Talk to us! What's happening?"

They heard heavy breathing. Sobbing.

"No… No… China…"

"What happened?" America cried.

"China…!" Hong Kong gasped before breaking off into a wail.

"Is he?" France yelped.

"He's dead," Hong Kong choked. "Oh my god… oh my god… China…"

"No, he can't be!" Britain exclaimed.

"He's… He's… stuck to the ground…" Hong Kong whispered with difficulty. "By javelins…"

"No, wait-" France cut in. "He might still be alive! Check!"

"No, no, no, no…" Hong Kong whimpered. "He is dead…"

"Check!" Many protested in chorus.

"No!" Hong Kong screamed. "He's dead! They cut off his head!"

Mouths widened. Some screamed aloud and some screamed silently, the pain in their throats so strong that only a weak hiss could escape them. It took only a moment for tears to fall and for people to clutch their faces, bow their heads, and cry helplessly in horror.

"No way," America choked as tears dropped down from behind his glasses. "No way China's dead…"

Hong Kong's sobs overwhelmed the call. Everyone carried on listening for a long time without anything else to do. Switzerland broke down and fell over the table, crying profusely. Liechtenstein snuggled into his side and eventually he turned, held her tightly, and balled over her.

That was until, Hong Kong's crying turned into a shriek. The audio was transformed then into rapid breathing and Hong Kong's feet tearing across the lawn. There were screams of, "No! No! Don't! No!" cut short by a long screech of agony. They heard a crackle that indicated that the phone had fallen, then Hong Kong gasping heavily and grunting with effort.

"Hong Kong!" was the cry of the room.

"Ow… a… help…" Hong Kong wheezed. A cough followed, and it sounded unhealthy, thick, and wet. Then they heard a jumble of sprinting feet approaching and Hong Kong let out a bloodcurdling scream.

"Aaaah! no - please!" he caterwauled.

There was a hefty thunk. Hong Kong stopped speaking. Now he emitted unusual gurgling noises. There was another powerful thunk that came with a messy snapping sound. Then, silence. Footsteps again, a pair of them, shuffled by the phone, and then they stamped away until they had disappeared completely.

The call continued, but now everything on the other end of the phone was quiet.

*In Dutch: (klaar)komen = to orgasm, and, komen= to come (non-vulgar usage). The similarity still exists in this language.