Before I start typing the chapter, I just want to say that I can't believe how many people wanted France to live… I have nothing against him, but I've seen him get so much criticism that I thought that more than one person would want him to die. Anyway, I'll stop bugging you…

Chapter 11

Francis ran.

He didn't have a very good idea where he was running to. He'd originally planned to go home, but he was a bit lost. The Frenchman had become paranoid after his narrow escape from Oliver and thought he was being followed. In an attempt to be clever, he took a few random turns to make sure that anyone following him wouldn't know where he lived. Sadly, that plan had failed when he realized he had no idea where he was. And, of course, now it was raining. Britain hadn't been kidding when he said it rained a lot in London. Fortunately, the rain helped Francis clean off the dried blood on his hand. Even better, his wound had stopped bleeding, but he'd still have to disinfect it later. He sighed. True, England was his enemy, but he was also his brother, and not truly killing each other was an unspoken rule. What had he done to make England hate him this much? He asked himself the question, but he knew the answer. That wasn't England. That wasn't his brother, so there weren't any rules, spoken or not. 'So where is Britain?' Francis thought.

Oliver grimaced, after he'd hung up the phone, he'd come back to continue killing France. Of course, he'd come back to see that his prisoner was gone. Francis had left nothing but a bloodied knife and an open door. "Oliver!" a muffled voice called. "You again?" Oliver muttered to himself with a raspy sigh, walking upstairs. He emotionlessly passed by framed photos, paintings, and a mirror. He stopped to smile at his reflection. "I know you can hear me!" the voice called again, less muffled now. With a sigh, Oliver turned and walked into England's spell room. After giving a familiar magic circle on the floor a dirty look, he kept walking. He continued walking until finally, he went through the wall. "Yes, Arthur?" he said. His voice was like honey and gunpowder.

America examined Lithuania's lifeless body, "You…you killed him!" he exclaimed in disbelief. "Well, yeah." answered Alex. "You murdered Lithuania!" yelled America, turning to Alex. "Yup, see, he was kinda in my way." Alex explained, "Plus, I have a grudge against his alternate." "Toris is dead…because of you!" Alfred knew he was being repetitive, but he didn't know what else to say, he was becoming more scared by the second. "Yes…I killed him." said Alex, "You know, it doesn't matter how you say it, it still means the same thing." "You bitch!" America roared, ramming his fist into Alex's shoulder. Surprised, Alex latched his hand onto his shoulder in pain, but America wasn't done yet. With a swift movement, he kicked Alex in the stomach, hard. All of his breath was knocked out of him, but he only staggered a bit. That was, until, America landed a direct punch on his doppelganger's face, Alex was instantly on the ground, Alfred towered over him. "You killed Belgium, didn't you? And the Netherlands?" he accused. Alex didn't have enough breath to say anything, so he remained silent. Alfred kicked Alex again watched blood trickle from the corner of his mouth. "You're one sick son of a bitch." said America darkly. Slowly, Alex reached his hand out for a nearby object. He held eye contact with Alfred so the American wouldn't see what he was reaching for. 'Just a bit farther…' Alex's hand latched onto something. 'Yes!' "You're a real… d-dumbass…" Alex rasped. Alfred was astonished, "What did you just—"

CRACK!

Alex had hit America directly in the ribs with his nail-loaded bat. Alfred cursed and dropped to his knees. With a sudden rush of energy, Alex jumped up to his feet. Blood trailed from his nose, but he ignored it. He roughly grabbed Alfred by his hair and forced him to face him. America's eyes were more intense with anger. Without saying anything, Alex slammed Alfred's face into the wall, repeatedly, until he was sure the American nation was unconscious. Alex dropped America with a sigh. He turned to Lithuania again, "Why did this fucker like you so much?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

In London, Francis was attempting to enjoy the red wine he'd ordered. He hadn't expected to find a French eatery in England, so obviously it was a pleasant surprise when he found the place. He could only imagine how angry Arthur must have been when he'd heard about the construction of the restaurant. It had given France something to chuckle at, but he was still a bit shaken. He'd been working hard to conceal the wound on his hand. Luckily, the waiter that'd sat him hadn't noticed it, but he was a bit taken aback by the disheveled state of the Frenchman's clothes and hair. After realizing this, France had retreated to the restroom to clean himself up. The best he could do was wash his hands, splash some water on his face, and use his fingers to brush through his hair. It wasn't much, but it made a difference. Of course, now he was back at his table, sipping wine and waiting for his meal.

He had a plan. First, he was going to eat. Then, he was going to ask for directions to the nearest hotel, go there, get some sleep, and then take the next plane to America. Alfred had to know what he'd found out. Plus, considering that America had said himself that he was going to visit Britain, it'd be pretty bad if Francis didn't deliver the news soon. France went over everything in his head over and over until his food arrived. Then, all he cared about was his hunger. Francis let his mind rest as he enjoyed the warm taste of French cuisine.

In the checkered room, England hadn't been enjoying such luxuries. Quite the opposite, in fact. So he'd called for Oliver, he had a couple problems he needed to express. Oliver had arrived, surprisingly grim, and was standing silently, waiting for Arthur to speak. "First of all," Britain began, "I haven't been able to relieve myself in… how long have I been here?" "About a week." Oliver answered. "Just a moment…" Oliver left the room. A couple minutes later, a silver bucket flew through the wall, clattering on the floor loudly. Oliver poked his head through next, "You're welcome." he said. With that, Oliver's head disappeared. England was left alone again. "What the…" he trailed off.

Oliver had a twisted sense of humor.

Done! Yeah… I wanted to have a funny-ish ending. Considering all the stuff that happened in this chapter. Anyway now you know where the checkered room is! Yaaay! Also, something I realized… People sigh a lot in my stories. I looked through them out of boredom, and EVERYBODY JUST KEEPS SIGHING. Then, later on, I watched some Hetalia. EVERYBODY KEPT SIGHING. I watched some other anime episodes, SO MANY SIGHS. Therefore, I've concluded that if I ever go to Japan, I will be lucky if I meet someone who can form a whole sentence without sighing all over the place…. Oh hey, people reviewed my last chapter…

…GAH. What are you people doing reviewing chapter 1? THIS IS 11.

BuddhaWolf-Thanks! And, ninja experience…? Oh and about your other reviews, I wrote more…and I hope I answered MOST of your questions.

Prussianess- I swear… I read your review and LAUGHED SO HARD….I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY.

MintyDaze- That first review was very dignified. As for the second one, yeah, school is so mean… I'll try to get around to reading your "twisted" stories.

DaphneAngelina432-Yeah… Alex is pretty bad…Thanks for liking this story!

WeirdCornChip- Interesting username change, it reminds me of when I got these Fritos and…never mind. Anyway, WOW, that sounded pretty morbid until I got dome McDonalds.

SUPAH SEESTAH-Sorry, but French Fry is cool… And hey… I updated.