A/N: Chapter 10 already! This chapter is set between two days, the cut is not exactly clear. It's somewhere between the bit with Francis and the bit with Arthur. Off we go with the story!

"An eye for an eye, will leave the whole world blind."
- Mahatma Gandhi

Nervously glancing into the room, he quickly pulled his head back. He was scared, afraid of what he might find in the adjacent room. When he was positive that there most likely was nothing in the next room, he stepped carefully into it. He immediately saw what resembled - to his fear - the scene of a fight. The television screen was smashed in, glass shards littered the floor, the coffee table was broken in half, the sofa overturned. There were only two options - either someone was looking for something, or they found it and it put up a fight. Feliciano had a feeling it was the latter option that had occurred here.

Feliciano took in every feature of the room, growing increasingly terrified of what might have happened, where his vanished brother could be, and who might still have remained behind. Despite what many a nation thought, he wasn't stupid. His so-called "grandfather" had been the first great empire in the western world. Who had conquered more than anyone before. Who had fought in more wars than could be remembered. And he had the art of war running through his blood. But also, he had lived and grown up and prospered in a continent that was almost constantly torn by war, ever since the fall of the Empire that had for so long kept peace without its territory. He had fought against so many enemies in so many wars. And even though many nations still, to this day, might consider him a coward, with no knowledge of weapons whatsoever, who couldn't hold neither sword nor gun properly, he still knew himself that he was perfectly capable of that.

He knew that on occasions, he was easily unsettled. At certain times he had burst into tears because of the mere thought of weapons and fights. He had run away from duty. But he had done all that because he still thought humanity deserved better than war. He believed conflicts could be solved without blood being spilt. He disliked the thought of killing, he hated seeing pools of crimson, he had a distaste for violence, and above all, he knew there were better ways d solving problems and of making peace than with war.

But he knew that there really was no way around this particular situation except armed conflict. He had heard the news from Ludwig, who had heard from Francis - who had first-hand experience from Arthur. He knew that their first mistake was to forget about the Second Players in their own universe, and that their second had been to let their guard down. That was always when something went wrong.

Europe had had nearly a hundred years of peace - something without precedent ever since the fall of the Roman Empire. Ever since the end of World War II, things had kept turning for the better, with some bumps in the road. But mainly, since the beginning of the new century and millennium, Europe had kept prospering. But it was only a matter of time before something happened, but clearly it was not the something that any had had in mind. While Feliks had complained at multiple world meetings since 2014 about how he needed more and more NATO protection - ignoring Ivan's dissatisfied glares, Alfred had at one point in the 2030s sulked for months on end - which had extended to a few years, in actual fact - because Yao's GDP had surpassed his own, before he was able to kick some incentive into his people to up his production. Some had said that Russia would be the next threat once more, others said that the Chinese were looking for world domination, while Southern Americans were accused of attempting to undermine western politics due to their economic growths (who knew what that was all about).

But none of them had spared a single - let alone a second - thought for the 2Ps. And of course, that came back to bite them, hard. And now, Feliciano found himself scared for his brother, scared for himself, his country and his people, standing in a ransacked living room with a bloodied shirt. He had seen what had happened with the government. The issue was still unresolved, and he could feel how it tore at his heart when his people raged against the people who were in charge - whom they themselves had put in charge. But he also knew that if he did not find his brother, there was a constantly growing chance that he might be dead. Southern Italy had been the most unstable area for a while now, and if Luciano and Flavio had offered them a preferable option to the established democracy, then it would not be long before Flavio would gain the upper hand. The technicalities still escaped him, he had been too unsettled and worried by the news of both the Second Players being in this world and the coups and attacks that were happening all over the world.

It was by a stroke of luck that he had not been at home when this had happened. He had been starting to cook lunch, but had only at the last minute realised that they were out of pasta. He had been told only too many times that he spoke about food too much, that no-one cared about that, and he should focus on current affairs and what would be tomorrow's politics rather than what would be tonight's dinner. But, this time, it had perhaps saved his life. Yet now, he had no clue where his brother was, and having lost his phone somewhere - he could not remember at what point he had noticed it missing - he could not attempt calling him. And he could try to ensure his people would remain loyal. He could try to get some sense into them. He had done it before, why not now?

But he had to set to work immediately - arrest warrants for the two Second Players, declare his brother a missing person, and start figuring out a way to get to his people - reach out to them, make them see sense, hope to hell and back that they would listen.

Ivan disassembled and assembled the weapon over and over again, starting over every time the stupid clock beeped.

At the moment, he was on his tenth attempt, and he was getting more and more frustrated with every second that passed. He was so close, so goddamn clo-

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

"Черт возьми!"

Ivan groaned in annoyance, once more being so close. He turned off the beeping clock. He knew he could disassemble a gun in fifteen seconds - that was the easy part. He also knew he could assemble it again in less than thirty. That's where he failed. At one point, during the 1970s perhaps, his record had been 34.6 seconds. In total. It seemed he was a bit rusty, a fact that did not give him much of a sense of security when he knew his counterpart might come any second pounding at his door and pointing a gun at his face. He knew that Dmitri would have no qualms against shooting him other than the fact that it would ensure both their deaths. And he could also guess that his rather mellow Second Player (after all, they were their opposites, and while Ivan had a heart but was also very violent, his counterpart basically lacked a heart but was more of a pacifist) had no problems in beating his gun assembling record. And if this went to war, then he sure as hell would have to keep the time much less than a minute. He decided to take a break, as he knew that his boss might need some help with handling the rioting countryside. He also had ignored his phone for a while, which meant he probably had a ton of unanswered messages.

As he thought about it, it had been a while since he had heard anything from Alfred. He wasn't quite sure what they were to each other at the moment. They had fucked, yes. But there was the underlying feeling that it was more than just having sex, that it was something deeper. They were no longer enemies. They had never been exactly friends. They were absolutely not in love, as they barely liked each other enough to be able to stand the other for more than a few days at a time. Although...

Never mind.

But it was rather disconcerting that he had heard zit from the American for something akin to a week. Usually, the loud-mouthed and obnoxious nation would message him if only to brag or make a stupid joke. Since the world meeting, there had been some texts that were neither here nor there, usually what Alfred called "the most awesome pick up lines" and what Ivan called "American silliness". But now, there had been nothing for a while. As Ivan checked his phone, there were a few messages from his boss and other Ministers. But none from Alfred. On the other hand, there were a number from both his sisters, from Natalya who was checking that he was fine - a message he had received perhaps at least once a day since the mess started - and from Yekaterina who had heard some worrying rumours and was checking that they were not true.

He answered them both first, stating he was fine and that the riots were nothing he couldn't handle. Of course, all of that was a lie. He was not fine, he was in over his head with both paperwork and decision-making, and handling the increasing violence within his country. Rare were the days when he did not feel his head swim with the conflicted thoughts of his people, when his heart did not clench in hatred towards his government, when he was able to get out of bed without feeling his waning strength. He knew Dmitri was gaining fast on him. And he was assembling something of an army around the major cities, especially Moscow, so as to create a siege of sorts on the capital. Ivan's army and police had already been placed on high alert and posted to key points in major cities, and assigned to protect certain vital areas. Train tracks were under high surveillance, and agricultural precautions were being taken. The country was basically in a lock-down.

But he still said he was fine, because he would not let his sisters worry about him when they had their own countries to worry about. He really would try to send armed help to Natalya, if he could. And even though the Ukrainian President still distrusted Ivan and his boss, he would help Yekaterina as much as possible. If only he could. But with all his strength, his mind, and money tied up in his own country, he couldn't. He was scared of losing both of them, and not a day went by when he was terrified of whether or not their Second Players might take over the country, take them hostage, attack the country from within, kill them... But he could do nothing to help. He had been sealed into his own country every since finding out from Alfred, and... well, there really wasn't much he could do but build and rebuild his gun or sign another piece of urgent paperwork.

Things were so different nowadays. It was strange, how times had changed so much since he had first come to be. He remembered always being the first one at the front during intense and bloody battles. He remembered arguing with his leaders, who wished for him to go, yet he wanted to remain back home. He remembered taking part in the planning of nearly every major military strategy and plan. Remembered confronting nations face-to-face, sword in hand, ready to slice their skin until they bled out. And yet, for the last fifty years or so, he could not name the last time he had been the first to know or plan anything. He could not point to a day when he had been the first to act or react. He could not pinpoint the last time he had held a gun to a nation. It had probably been the Second World War, to be honest. When nations were still in the old-fashioned way of taking up arms. When war had been direct. Not fought through air control, or coded radio messages, or second-guessing the opponent's moves before the enemy himself knew what he was going to do. Not fought by information. Or weapons of mass destruction.

But these days, it really was rare that he would be the first one to anything. His boss let him know if something important came up. His ministers would maybe run something past him when it had already been agreed upon and accepted. Politicians would smile politely at him, not really knowing who he was, not really caring, either.

He-

Ding.

Surprised, he looked down at his phone, taken out of his inner musings back into the real world by the electric sound. He looked to see a surprising message on the screen. It was an e-mail.

[American Idiot, Today, 17:55]

Hey, I know it's been a while since I've messaged you - but that's a long story and it ends with Allen fucking up the west coast. Let me get the formalities out of the way - yeah, I'm as fine as I can be, how are you? Not great, probably, seeing the news.

I had an idea - that's why I'm emailing you. My boss ain't telling me nothing, and I'm guessing neither is yours, so I suggest we take matters into our own hands. I'm currently in Canada, and Mattie's with me with the idea. We need to do something to call out to the people of our countries - even the world - before any more nations fall into 2P hands or die.

We need to talk to the people. Address them. Ourselves. The nations themselves. We need to directly appeal to them, make them understand what the hell is going on. Because the main reason why this is happening in the first place is because people are fed up with their government who tell them nothing! I'm not told anything so why would they be? I mean my government has indirectly distrusted my people for years upon years, and it's time that ended right about now. So all I'm saying is - tomorrow, at about noon or something - a time when everyone is awake, and likely to have a screen in front of them, we give speeches. Disguised as mere press conferences or a politician answering questions or whatever you come up with to get it approved by your boss. Use false names, I don't care, but we need this.

Main points I suggest to put in that speech - who you are, what you are, why you are making this speech, what is going on, who the second players are, why they're so pissed off, ... main points of this crappy situation and all that. Make them trust you. Help them understand. Show them that you care only about them - don't make references to the government, to be honest, that would probably only work against you.

But yeah. I've sent this idea to Yao, Arthur, Francis, Ludwig, Matthew (yeah, okay so I'm staying at his and I emailed him - ignore that) and Feliciano, and you of course. So far, I've gotten positive answers only from Ludwig, Francis and Matt. Feliciano hasn't answered, Arthur's probably busy, I don't know what Antonio's doing and - oh, Yao answered, and he said he can try but that he's not sure. Please, please, please, Ivan, you're the nation of Russia - you could probably scare your people into believing you. I just need your support here.

Trying is all I ask.

Alfred.

P.S. This has got to be just about my best idea to this day.

Ivan chuckled softly at the postscript. "Yes, Alfred, indeed it must be. You never cease to amaze the world." While many dismissed the American superpower as young and childish and ridiculous and obnoxious - and all things between, he had always known that there was something more to Alfred. And his status of superpower was proof of that. He immediately wrote an answer back, agreeing to try his best.

Knowing himself, he would probably succeed - if it meant scaring his boss into doing it.

As Gilbert messed about in the office, Ludwig sat at his computer, trying to come up with something to write. He tapped at the keys without a real thought in his mind, before backtracking the entire sentence and ending up with a blank page once more. To be fair, Gilbert was not helping.

"West, what the hell do you think you're doing? The Second Players are running around trying to undermine us, the Bundestag fucking exploded, and there you are, sitting at your computer, writing! Do you think fucking paperwork is going to scare them? Some legal documents are gonna drive them away and leave us alone? NO, they're not! We need to get the fuck ready, the army out, everyone out, everyone with weapons to protect our people! We-"

"Gilbert?"

"Was?"

"Shut up."

"I'm your older-"

"And I am the current representation of the nation of Germany, and I am trying to work out something that might save us from this situation by improving our people's image of us. I'm trying to write a speech that will rally our people with us, that will save our nation from ruin, that the people will listen to and hear and think about - that will affect them enough so that they won't join Lutz and Klutz!"

"Lutz and who?"

"Stupid nicknames that Francis came up with."

Gilbert burst out laughing. "Damn, those are good. No, but really, what is this speech thing? When is it, who are you gonna give it to?"

Ludwig sighed, basically abandoning the thought of getting anything done for the moment. "Alfred had an idea - if we address our people ourselves, we might have a chance to draw them to our side. To keep them loyal."

"But how would we-?"

"By revealing ourselves."

Gilbert did a double-take. "By what?"

"You heard me, Gilbert. Alfred's idea, but I must say that it's not completely hopeless. It really is our last chance before nearly every country in the world will end up divided in a civil war of sorts, their people divided, weapons fired to both sides. And this speech is tomorrow, in front of most of the press of Germany. At noon."

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. "So, for centuries - millennia - we've kept ourselves a secret, and then in a minute a youngster has a stupid idea and then we're out for the entire world to see and judge? Mein Gott, youth these days."

"Gilbert," Ludwig groaned. He loathed it when Gilbert went into his 'I am older and more knowing than you' mode. He wasn't even sure whether the fact that Gilbert had more scars than Ludwig meant that any of them had taught the Prussian anything. To be honest, probably little. "I am doing this, and if you will not help, then get out, please."

Gilbert sighed melodramatically. "Fine, I will help, but if only not to let you slip in some stupid state secrets."

It was Gilbert whose suggestions for the speech contained most state secrets. It was Ludwig who dismissed the suggestions faster than they had been finished.

Since receiving the e-mail from the North American nation, Francis had made phone call after phone call. Needless to say, he was a very well-connected person, even amongst nations. He knew half the most influential press editors and directors personally, and the rest indirectly. He knew some influential people who could make things happen faster than he could say "thanks". He had good access to the inner rings in the world of both publicity and television, meaning he had soon acquired TF1, France 2 through 5, and Canal+ to televise the speech he would give in little more than half a day. He had also managed to obtain quite a few radio stations across the country. And a number of websites had agreed to announce this speech as an important speech that any self-respected French person would listen to (not exactly in those words, but basically that was the message). All he needed to do now was announce to his leader that he would, in fact, be indisposed to all politics for the first half of the following day, and that there was going to be something he might want to listen to on the radio.

He checked his phone before walking into his boss' office. "Monsieur le Président, il faut que-"

"What is it now?"

"Well, just that tomorrow you should not expect me in the office before sometime after one or two - well, after lunch time, anyway."

"And why, may I ask?"

"Yes, you may ask, but the answer you shall see tomorrow. I suggest you listen very carefully to TF1 tomorrow at around noon. I heard there's going to be an interesting... show." Francis smiled innocently, his leader giving him a befuddled and confused look.

"And what is that show abo-"

"Ah, that, I cannot tell you. Apparently, though, it's unprecedented and never heard of, completely unique!" Francis began leaving the office before turning back. "And er... You might receive a few phone calls, namely from the Russian and Chinese leaders, along with perhaps certain others, and some confused people from my country, but ignore them, and do not come looking for me. That's all!"

Francis left the office, and went to get a good night's sleep. After all, if he was to be on national television tomorrow, then he must look his best - or the best he could in this situation.

Arthur tried, for about the five hundredth time, to call someone. After calling his boss and receiving no answer - no connection even - he had tried to call Francis, Ludwig, everyone (even going so far as to call Gilbert). It was now, when his phone once more did not even react that he decided to check (which he should have done some time ago) his network.

Nothing. No bars, no network, no connection, nothing.

And that sent him into worry. Was this simply a problem with his phone? Or more widespread? Were phone lines cut? What about landlines? What had happened? How had this happened?

He hurried to his car, and drove all the way to Downing Street, bursting inside as people flurried about, walking around him and dodging him as he tried to find someone who could answer his questions. Namely, his boss. Computers were still working, and so were televisions, so his speech was not yet compromised. But he had a feeling that it might not be long before all electricity would somehow be cut. He went into his Premier's office, and saw him sitting at his desk, writing away on a document.

"Could you perhaps- oh, Arthur, it's you. What on earth are you doing here at this moment? Did someone call you?"

"I really doubt anyone could call me right now, what with telephone connections apparently having been cut."

"Christ, yes, I forgot."

"Do you have any clue -"

"Do I look like I would have a clue? Arthur, I am just as lost - if not more so - as you are in this situation. To be fair, I was not really expecting this when I stepped up to take office, and I really doubt I have more experience than you in this situation. I do not know who did this, why this happened, how we can fix this, but I doubt that it'll end at only telephone lines."

"We have to secure television or radios. Either or, I don't really care which, but it is vital that some sort of information network is maintained."

"I understand, and I have people on it, but I cannot - as can't you - guarantee that this will be the case."

Arthur sighed. He knew, he knew that they were royally screwed the moment he had gone up into the attic that day a month ago. Or had it been more? He wasn't really sure how long it had been, to be honest. But it had been long enough for half of the world to fall into chaos, and the rest of the world dangerously teetering on the edge.

And that was when the entire house went suddenly silent - no telephones ringing, no televisions making background noise, no radios blabbing on and on about something, nothing. People were still talking, but it was that hushed wonder that preceded complete panic.

And panic was what ensued, after a staff member burst into the Prime Minister's office with a notice from the Scots.

Since Alfred had deserted the house, Matthew had a feeling something was extremely off with his country. He had a feeling of unrest in the pit of his stomach, an uncomfortable sense of dread. He had tried to make himself busy by calling people and writing the speech - and he had also managed to convince his boss that this was the best way to try and be safe from the threat that was in his country right now. He had not heard anything terribly shocking from his country yet, and he had a terrible feeling that this was the calm before the storm. Matthieu had not shown up in name, description, videos, images, news, nothing, and no real violence had yet occurred.

His people were almost just as uneasy as in every other country of the world - before the fateful world meeting. They were protesting and demanding change, but with marches and protests, not with guns or blood. No major violence had yet been reported despite the occasional clashes between protesters and riot police, but nothing so far that was at any rate alarming.

He was currently driving to Parliament Hill, where he was expecting his boss to be and where he could take care of some business before airing in some hours. He could also turn on the news and watch live feed from Alfred's speech, which was in about half an hour. He saw nothing out of the ordinary on the way, and the ride to the government offices was perfectly normal.

As he entered, and reached his office, the feeling in his gut had somewhat let up, but there was still the feeling that something was going to happen - and not in any kind of good way. He greeted diplomats and other staff, asking for the whereabouts of his Prime Minister - who had yet to arrive. He had called to say he would arrive somewhat late - Matthew didn't quite catch what the person said the reason to be.

He directed himself into his office, leaving the door open with the request that he be given any piece of work he had to attend to urgently immediately. He turned on the television, and saw the reporter going over the speeches that had been occurring around the world while he was still asleep.

He also heard snippets of what had occurred in every country after the speeches. He paused in his work, eyes glued to the television as he listened intently. People came in and out of his office, and he tried to deal with all of the work while simultaneously trying to grasp the severity of the words pouring out of the reporter's mouth.

But there came a point when his stomach felt like it had sunk, unexpectedly, and he felt ill, lost and confused. He had no idea what had brought this about, until he was on the way out of his office and into the restrooms to wash his face with cold water. Suddenly, phones were ringing all around him, and he heard shouts and gasps and panic spreading throughout the staff working on the floor he was on. He heard bits and pieces of the conversations thrown about, but not before he grabbed someone and demanded he be told what was going on did he know what had happened. The Prime Minister had been assassinated.

And at that moment, Matthew seemed to understand what kind of a hell the world had been thrown into.

"Good afternoon."

His voice resonated, a hollow resounding of his words bouncing around the room into his ears. Or maybe that was just his heartbeat. He cleared his throat, the sound irritating as it was magnified by the microphone.

"This message that I am about to convey is one for all of the people of the United States. In fact, it is a message for all of the world, whoever may be listening. Whoever is viewing this broadcast - this message is for you. Children, teenager, adult, American, European, Asian, African, man or woman - I want this message to reach as many people as possible."

Through the dozen of cameras trained on him, the microphones standing in front of him, he could feel the eyes of his people on him, could feel the listening minds of them. The small audience of press reporters and other people present did not really help. Intent and focused on him, only him, at this precise moment in time. And it freaked him out.

"You may - and rightfully so - wonder who the hell I am. And I don't blame you, because I have never been formally introduced, and it was unlikely that I was ever going to be. However, due to the dire circumstances... Well, this was the last option. First, all I want for you is to consider this. Do I seem familiar to you? Do you perhaps feel like you know me, perhaps have passingly met me, but never really cared to remember me, or learn my name? Do you find me recognisable, yet unplaceable? Ask your family members, friends, everyone around you, because the answer you will get from every citizen of this country will be the same. Yes, you seem to know me from somewhere, yet you do not know where. That is really the first step towards understanding who I am. But honestly, I'll just cut to the chase, and so, here goes - my name is Alfred Fitzgerald Jones. I was born in May 1607, when Jamestown, the first settlement of this country, was founded. I am, officially, the personification representing the nation of the United States of America. If you happened to have turned on the television earlier to hear about similar speeches from different parts of the world - from a man named Wang Yao, or Ivan Braginsky, Francis Bonnefoy, Matthew Williams - then you will understand that they were, too, nations as I am.

"Believe me, I know this sounds ridiculous, and crazy, and completely stupid - maybe a prank being played on the people of the world. But ask yourselves - we are in a state of war. Why the hell would governments and television stations around the world allow a prank of this scale to happen? Of course they wouldn't, and after this speech is over, the President of the United States will step up here, and swear in front of you all that this is the truth, nothing more, nothing less. No doubt, he will be pretty mad at me, considering I may have gone around him to get this done.

"And I will accept questions from those of you present here right now, answer them without hesitation, if only to help you believe me. But just know - if you look at me, can you really say that I do not cause some feelings, in all of you, that you cannot explain were they directed at a complete nobody playing a prank on you? Do you feel perhaps a sense of patriotism or pride? Happiness? Safety? Anger, or fear? Something, anything that would really be completely non-explainable were I not your nation?"

He took a breath before switching pages.

"But that was only the first part of this speech. If you can grasp that idea of me being the representative of your country, that I, Alfred F. Jones, who looks barely old enough to have a beer, am your hundreds of years old nation - then I ask you to hold on to that thought and prepare for something even more... ah... messed up.

"Every nation has a kind of... double. An alternate self - a physical opposite. This opposite is also a personification, who was born at the same time that we were 'born', for lack of a better word. And they live in an alternate universe - by the way, physicists, you're welcome, 'cause I just proved the multiverse theory. But back to the topic at hand. These opposites, alternative selves, live in an alternate universe, from which it is possible to establish a connection to this one. However, as these personifications are our opposites, so is their world. While our world holds justice and democracy - relatively widespread - and peace, theirs does not. Theirs is a world of crime, of lawlessness, of violence... And we have tried our best to seal these cracks in the walls between universes. However, every time we have managed to seal them back into their universe, they have found ways back - because connections between universes cannot in any way be completely sealed off and destroyed. Which means that these portals exist and will, in some way, be possibly reopened. And this time, we were unprepared. We were not ready, because it has been so, so long since they last were here that they were no threat in our minds. So, they managed to sneak past our noses into this universe.

"Right now, the extreme anarchist movement that has arisen in and taken over Washington, Oregon, California, Idaho, Nevada and Utah, which is threatening Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, Montana and Wyoming, is one that was started by my own alternate self. His name is Allen F. Jones. His physique would be something akin to mine, but his skin darker, his hair an auburn colour, his eyes red. His aims, as his friends', are to bring into our world the characteristics of theirs. They wish to drive our world into a similar state to their own. There is this natural hatred, between us and them, that will drive them to do this. We, as nations, are more peaceful than them, which is why we have not destroyed their world. Additionally, theirs is tied with our own so tightly, that it would simultaneously destroy ours."

Lay yourself bare.

"The reason why I need to appeal to you, citizens of the United States, citizens of the Earth, is because without you, I will die. A nation can only exist as long as its people still hold faith in them. As long as its people will live for them. As long as people hold its citizenship - unless that nation is killed in battle."

"The technicalities are rather complex, and to be honest, I don't know them completely myself. However, I do know that a nation like me is basically immortal. If you were to shoot me, right now, I would heal in a matter of minutes. However, the only exception to this is when a nation is at war with another. Then, if one of the fighting nations injures the other nation in such a manner that would kill a human, the nation is effectively killed. But our alternate selves aren't like that. They are not immortal- they can live forever, yes, but injuring them mortally - even caused by humans - will kill them. Similarly, if their corresponding nation dies, so do they. They depend on us but not vice versa. But these positions can be changed. If the alternate beings came to this world, and gained more than half of a country's people's support, they would effectively then become the official representative of the nation. And that is what is happening right now, everywhere in the world. Allen Jones is trying to weaken the United States of America so that he will be able to kill me once he is the representative and I am dependent on him. And I don't want to die. I don't want to see this nation fall to ruins under a man who wants nothing but its downfall. Who wants to destroy civilisation. Society. Humanity. He will wipe all of that out if he gains your support. And that, that is the reason why I am here today.

"I am not asking, not requesting, not demanding or ordering - I am begging. Begging you not to fall for his promises of a brighter future. Pleading that you do not abandon me. I may not have been the best of nations, but I remember a time when people fought alongside of me for my independence. When we fought as brothers during wars that raged across Europe and the world. How we stood united against threat, after threat, after threat. Yes, I was riddled with such paranoia at certain points, but I represent my people. And one thing that I can say about the American people is that not once have they lost that faith, strength of belief in unity. And that is what I am appealing to today."

He took a deep breath, about to launch into the final bit of the speech. He looked up quickly to the small audience, and stopped. He saw the tall figure, leaning casually against the wall with a grin on his face. Blue eyes met red, and he inhaled sharply. He decided to continue with his speech - while something (he wasn't quite sure) chipped at his mind.

"He... Allen Jones is dangerous. And in order to secure this nation's future - this world's future as a whole planet and not a wasteland of - of forgotten cities and nuclear devastation, we have to be able to count on each other, we have to stand together. We cannot help other nations, nor can they help us, before we have helped ourselves. But if the American people can once again come together, as we have dozens of time in the past, then we can save ourselves from what would be complete destruction."

He suddenly felt something breaking in his mind, as if something that he had locked away had just broken down a door - reality was not too far from that. And then, there was the intruding voice.

What a lovely speech that was, Alfred. Congrats on a pitiful attempt at rallying your people against mine.

He fought down the urge - the need to walk up to his Second Player and punch the living daylights out of him in front of the television and radio of his entire country. But something was wrong - very much wrong.

He hurriedly gave a weak thank you to the audience and cameras and microphones, before stepping away from the podium - trying to calm himself, keep his composure in the presence of the very man that was the cause of his troubles.

What, not even going to acknowledge me?

Alfred narrowed his eyes infinitesimally in the direction of his counterpart, something no-one else would probably notice now that he was in the background, while the President had only now stepped up to report that he had not known this would happen, he apologised for the confusion, but that every word that Alfred had said was true.

I get it, you're trying to figure out why I'm in your head!

There's a hell of a lot I'm wondering about, Alfred thought.

You do realise I can read your thoughts, right?

Alfred went silent - even in his mind. Too stunned, shocked, to really contribute a thought into this.

D'you really not remember what happened last time? When we spoke for days on end, taunting each other, trying to figure out the other's moves - before Kirkland locked us away?

Alfred's mind was a flurry of memories and recollections, trying to locate that memory, his thoughts flooding with questions and images. And there it was.

Fucking slow you are. Hell, they say you're kind of slow, sometimes, but damn, ya gotta be kidding me. With that memory I'm amazed you're even able to put on socks in the morning.

What the hell are you doing here? Alfred tried to keep a straight face, not let hatred show on his features as he still stood in the line of fire of the cameras.

I'm here to damn well piss the hell out of ya, that's what I'm doing.

Get the fuck out of here, now.

Or what, you're going to arrest me? You realise that I have a couple of your states held hostage back in the West, right? What would ya do if something happened to dear old Callie? Or if something hurt Wendy? Or if Noah was killed? Or all them others. you'd end up damn hurt, wouldn't you?

Don't you fucking dare-!

I will, if anything happens to me. So how about me and you go nice and quiet into an empty room and have a nice little talk in there. Sound like a plan to ya?

Alfred hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to another. The President was nearly done speaking, and the entire ordeal would soon be wrapped up. He held back an answer, but when the President bode the nation his wishes for unity, and ended the speech, Alfred was amongst the first to stand up and leave the room without further justification. He heard his boss call out after him, but ignored it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Allen also duck out of the room. Once in the corridor, he turned right, and went directly to his office. He waited with the door open for the arrival of Allen. Once he did, he wordlessly bolted the door shut and locked.

"What the hell do you want?" Alfred spat at the red-haired 'nation'. He went behind his desk and sat down, assuming a position of power and calm here. Not that ALlen seemed too stressed either.

"Thought that woulda been kind of obvious by now. Just wanted to annoy you." As Alfred did not respond to this Allen sighed dramatically and slouched into one of the available chairs on the other side of the desk. "Damn, you're demanding. Just wanted to have a little chat with ya, that's all. Tell me, how's Ivan doin'? Ya heard anything from him?"

"What do you know?" Alfred straightened up in his chair.

"Just that your little idea may not have helped as much as you would have wanted. What I mean, is that while you were busy being cut off from the world enough not to really listen to other news, stuff happened, and now you kind of find yourself alone, here. For example, the fact that y'all were giving speeches meant that you were occupied for the last twenty-something hours calling and writing."

Alfred really did not like where this was going, even though he had no idea what was to be said. There was a momentary pause, as Allen played with time and paused for effect.

"Which meant that you weren't so occupied by domestic business or listening to your bosses." Alfred's eyebrows furrowed, as he waited for Allen to continue.

"Which means that if you checked the news, you'd probably know that China has lost control of its western areas - kinda like here, yeah? Or that Russia was thrown into a civil war this morning right after the speech finished, with the army fighting off its own people - especially more to the east and in villages. Where people are now armed to the teeth, thanks to Dmitri's contacts and smuggling skills. Or that Scotland has declared war on England, and that as soon as the British government is dismantled Oliver will assume power and place a warrant of arrest on Arthur's head. Oh, he never got to do his speech. And that Germany is now divided between loyalists and... what do they call themselves? Something like revolutionaries or anarchists or whatever, who cares. France - who the hell knows or cares what's going on there. I think Southern Italy's completely thrown off track. Canada,... well, dear old Mattie's gonna be giving his speech just about now, and who knows what my buddy up north has planned."

And during all of this rush of information, Allen was uninterrupted, a feral grin growing on his features as Alfred's eyes widened, his hand beginning to shake - stress, fear, panic, neither of them were able to distinguish the emotions running through Alfred's head.

Alfred then stood, went to the telephone that was sitting on the table. Which Allen promptly knocked over and stepped on to make certain no calls would be made from it. Alfred froze.

"Get the fuck out of here," he hissed at the other. His steel-grey eyes had frozen over, a harsh look glazing over them.

"Nah," was the simple answer he received. And it was just too much for him. Forgetting calm and composure, he lunged at the other who had been expecting it. They were both knocked to the ground, Alfred on top of Allen as he attempted to land as many punches as he could on the Second Player. It wasn't long before Allen managed to knock him in the jaw, not hard enough to dislocate it, but enough so to weaken Alfred's hold on him momentarily - enough for him to roll them over and to stand up. Alfred was quick to get back on his feet, and dodge an outstretched arm thrown his way. He threw himself forwards, managing to throw Allen off balance and collide with the heavy desk. Alfred could feel he wasn't quite as strong as he could have been, and knew that Allen was a lot more powerful than he should have been. He took a hold of Allen's left arm, twisting it behind his back - earning a pained snarl sent his way. But this didn't last long as Allen aimed a harsh kick to his calf, and then freeing his arm and elbowing the other in the gut. Alfred found his grip release, and himself being thrown against a wall harshly. Slightly dazed from the impact, it took him a moment to notice Allen had grabbed a wooden chair and was about to hurl it straight at him. He managed to dodge it - only barely, splinters grazing his back. He grabbed one of the broken legs of the chair, using it as a pathetic weapon. He tried to stab Allen, missed, but managed to stop and land a punch into his chest. Allen coughed, but grabbed Alfred into a chokehold which had the American struggling to free himself. Alfred knew there was a wall some distance behind Allen, and began using all his strength to back up and slam Allen into the wall. It freed him, but Allen aimed another kick at his gut this time. Alfred doubled over, and was knocked down by Allen swinging a piece of wood at his head. He found himself on the floor, and with a gun pointed at him. His gun.

"Now, as nice as this little chat we had was, I gotta run. This nation ain't gonna ruin itself on its own." He sent a malevolent smirk Alfred's way, before pocketing the weapon and marching out of the trashed office. Alfred stood up, debating whether to run after Allen, but he felt his head protest at even the thought.

This really was not helping his fragile mental state. He could feel himself growing weaker, and there was a voice, a voice in the back of his mind that kept whispering and taunting him to give in. You could fix this, if you simply accepted that the world may never be the same. You could ensure nothing like this would ever happen again, after completely getting rid of this threat forever. You could kill the Second Players, all of them, if you simply accepted that this - the person you are pretending to be - this is not who you are.

The door to his office had been left open, and he saw some people stop and stare at the state of the ruined room. He snarled at them, which made them all go their own way. Except his boss, who had now barged into his office. Initially, he was only going to scold Alfred for the stunt he had pulled, but seeing the state of the office, and of the battered nation (who really was a sight with a split lip, blood running down the side of his face, and a bloodied suit), he wanted an explanation.

Especially when Alfred staggered up from the chair he had been in and hurriedly announced he needed to find a telephone and call his brother.

He could not be too late - he simply could not.

Translations

Черт возьми - (russian)damn it

was? - (german) what?

Notes

None this time :)

A/N: Wow, phew! That was actually a nasty piece of work. When I wrote the previous chapter, it was too long so I had to cut it in half. But then, I didn't like at all the way it cut off or was built on its own. So, I had to nearly rewrite the entire thing. And damn was that hard. But here it is, I hope it's to your liking!

Well, now that we have the world thrown into a complete and utter mess, it's time to get into the nasty bit of the story. Or actually, it's going to be gory and violent and dreadful, but I'm probably going to enjoy writing it. No, I'm not sadistic. I think. Anyway, fair warning, there will most likely be major character deaths ahead - though not for a while (I think). But I don't really know how this will turn out, since I'm writing it as I go along. Time to start the next chapter now!

And by the way, if you like this story, I have advice for you! Reviewing and following and favouriting is a great way to show me how much you like this story. Thank you in advance. And thank you to all the reviewers and favourites and followers I have already. You guys are great!

Until next time!