((Authors Note: this is weird writing the note without it being bold.. Gosh, it's weird.. Well, I'm late. I'm just going to say it now. Like always, I'm not going to hold you up here, and am just going to talk at the end of this chapter. Happy reading! Or at least as happy as it can be with my writing..))

"Germany, my feet hurt."
"Too bad."
"They really hurt though."
"Ja, I heard the first time."
"Can we take a break?"
"Dude, it's been like, five minutes."
"... My feet hurt."
The two representatives in the lead groaned. America was beginning to regret his decision to add Italy to the big group already. Though he couldn't exactly change anything now, they were stuck in Scotland till the end of this. And who knew if they would actually win.
"Just keep moving until we get to a place where they'll let us stay." America suggested. "We'll rest there for just a bit and then we'll get going again."
Italy fell silent. Well, he fell silent for the next few minutes before speaking again. "How far away is that?"
America saw Germany face-palm out of the corner of his eye, and grinned a little. Italy was getting a little annoying, but it had to be worse for a guy who had to live with him. Or maybe not, and he just had a short fuse right now because of the current situation. He wouldn't be surprised, though he did wonder how much shorter it could get then at the World Meeting.
"I don't know Italy." Germany sighed. "Just keep walking."
"But-"
"Can we please have ten minutes of quiet?" the German interrupted, frustrated. "That is all I ask for. Ten minutes."
Italy pouted behind him, but didn't say anything else. It actually seemed like a fairly long time before they heard from him again.
"Can I talk now?"
"Has it been ten minutes?"
"I counted all the way to six- hundred!" Italy seemed proud of himself.
"Oh dear, he's learned to count." Germany groaned. America burst out laughing, stopping and doubling over. Italy cheered before plopping down onto the ground, feet levitated for a second before kicking up some dust back on the road. The German sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can we stop acting childish and keep moving?"
America tried to nod while still laughing. He did his best to smother it, but just ended up making it worse. It had been a long time since he had been joyful like this, and in all honesty, he didn't want to push it away so soon. However, he started loosing control of it, and sank to his knees, still shaking.
Germany sighed again, looking back at Italy, who was rolling on the ground with little ve's. He wondered what exactly he had done to get into this situation. What was his sin?
The German was just about to start yelling at the two of them when he heard something. Some yelling and crunching on the dirt road. "We need to get off the road." No response from either of them. Germany grabbed Italy from the ground, then hitting the Americans shoulder to make him pay attention. "Someone's coming." He growled.
America was instantly on his feet, looking around to see who was coming. Germany threw Italy over his shoulder, grabbing America to at least pull him in the direction of the side of the road. The American made a face before following Germany off the side and into a ditch. The three of them lay still, an Italian under the Germans arm with a hand pressed over his mouth, the American a foot or so away.
It came closer, and it sounded like a cart along with some actual tires. Quads? Or a car? They would find out eventually, America was able to see over the ridge without giving himself away.
America had to lift his head a little, but it wasn't too hard to stay hidden while looking up and over. There was indeed an old-fashioned looking cart approaching with an older man holding the reins to two horses pulling the wooden contraption. The tire sound came from two quads, moving slowly for the cart to keep up, and they were being driven by one British soldier each, with another up with the old man. Only three, so the question was, did they try to take it?
America held up three fingers to indicate how many soldiers there were up there. He brought his other hand closer to his gun in its holster, silently asking if they wanted to fight. The German hesitated before writing in the sandy ground. 'All soldiers?'
He shook his head, raising a single finger as an answer. Another written message. 'Hostile?'
America took another quick look up to the man, and was turning back to Germany with his answer, when he saw the man pulling out his own gun, rising slightly over the ridge, aiming, and firing. Guess it didn't matter much. They would find out in a few minutes.
Leaving Italy to his own devices, America pulled out his own gun and did the stupid thing, running out in front of the now two standing soldiers. Well, the really stupid thing to do would be to stop half-way across, but he kept running, the idea being to distract them and give Germany another chance to shoot. As it was, the soldiers indeed thought he was the one who shot, turning their attention to him. America lunged behind a fairly large rock, curling up to avoid the shots sent at him. As he had hoped, Germany shot again, taking another one of them down. As soon as the gun fire stopped as the last soldier standing tried to figure out what was going on, America raised up and fired, hitting him in the shoulder, so not killing him, but causing him to drop his gun and fall back against the cart. America assumed the other guys to be already dead, and the shot man to not be a threat any longer, sauntering up to him and kicking his gun farther away.
He almost felt bad for him. He was sweating and pale -most likely from his wound -and looked panicked, though he seemed to be trying to hide it. Not very well though. America didn't holster his gun, but he folded his arms, shifting his weight onto one leg. He gave the guy a smile, trying to show he meant no harm. Well, none beyond what was already done.
"Hey man!" He spoke cheerfully. "So, sorry for shooting you and stuff, but I needed to talk to you and I didn't trust that gun of yours. But now that it's on the ground over there I feel much better."
"S-shove off y-you idiot." He stammered, voice shaking. His blood-loss making his complexion a sickly whitish color. "Why am I still alive here? I'm not going to tell you anything."
"You're still alive because I don't like killing for no reason." America didn't like he was being asked that. It made him feel that he had a reputation, and that reputation was not something he liked to hear. He didn't particularly like having any kind of reputation at all, he almost always shattered it in some way. "And yeah, you do have some info that I may need. Me and my friends over there." He gestured to Germany and Italy, who were questioning the old man on the cart. Well, Germany was questioning. The Italian with him seemed to have recovered from the quick skirmish, and was sitting next to the man, seeming to be talking to himself. His hands were going all over the place as he murmured to himself
"I'm still not going to tell you anything.."
"I think you will. Eventually." America felt bad for being so... Well, for being so cold to this guy. This is what he acted like back in his revolution as well, and he had promised himself that person would never come back out. He had been so cruel, willingly attacking and killing his opponents to reach whatever goal he had at the time. Half of the time it was even his own idea, his own plan they would execute. He had promised himself.. And now that side was back. It was appropriate he supposed, this was a revolution of sorts anyhow. The world verses an empire. Battle of the ages. An ordeal that will change mankind forever. Ok stop, stop thinking, back to the matter at hand.
America looked almost sadly at the panicked soldier. "Alright, your right, you probably wouldn't tell us anything. And I'm not going to torture you. So unless one of my friends over here would.." America glanced at Germany and Italy. The German glared at America before turning back to the old man, and Italy just wasn't paying attention to either of them.
"That's what I thought." America tilted his head. "We aren't going to kill you, but we can't have you running back to Iggy and telling him we're coming now either.. I'm sorry, but you'll just have to come with us. Maybe this nice man would be willing to have you in his basement for a little while, feed you too, just until this whole thing blows over."
The man started to tremble with a mixture or rage and fear. "You will take me nowhere. I will not go with you, I would rather die."
"I'm sure you would, but I can't allow that." Now would be a perfect time to imply his heroicness wouldn't allow him to stand by and watch such a thing, but.. No. "I don't sit well with having someone's unneeded death on my hands."
"Then what is this invasion?" He hissed, growing angry. "Your invasion is going to kill innocent civilians and you should know that. Don't tell me you are trying to gain peace when you yourself is attacking others."
Americas eyes flashed with a dark, and sudden rage. His expression turned from sympathetic, to something dangerous. Something wild. "Don't tell me I'm in the wrong here." His voice was low, growling at the suddenly cowering soldier. A nations rage was not something anybody wanted to raise, even if that nation had fallen. "You invaded my land too remember? You killed innocent people. MY people!" Any thought of trying to be civil was dashed, as the enraged American took the mans collar, pulling him closer. "I could feel that you asshole." He snarled. "I could feel every single person die before I left! I don't know how many more American civilians, soldiers are dead. I don't even know if my president is alive! Don't you tell me that I am doing something wrong, when I am only trying to fight for their freedom. I'm trying to free them for a second time from the same man! Consider it the second revolutionary war, except it's just the world against Great Britain. Though let's be honest with each other, I don't think he's being all too great right now is he?"
America would have continued, gotten more worked up with the man, before he felt a hand on his shoulder. "America, stop it." America looked out of the corner of his eye a the German standing beside him. He looked like he was ready to forcibly stop the American if he needed to. "Your going to give him a heart attack, then we won't get anything out of him."
America released the soldier, who stumbled away from him. "He just insulted my-"
"I don't care." Germany interrupted him. "The way you were going, you were going to murder him where he stood. We both know we don't want to kill many people while we're here."
"I wasn't going to kill him. I wanted him to know that I-"
"I know what you wanted to do." Germany didn't want to hear it right then. "But you can explode, you know that. Pay attention to what your doing, we don't need to have any more shooting alright? Now this-"
Germany's voice was drowned out with a gunshot. America jerked, shipping his head around to see the soldier he had pushed away. He had crawled to his fallen gun, aimed and shot. America didn't think about the potential target, he just recognized the man as a threat. The American aimed the gun still in his hand, and fired instinctively, the bullet hitting the man right between the eyes. The soldier fell back onto the ground, not moving, with blood pooling underneath him.
America froze, looking shocked before the information fully processed in his mind. The first unneeded death of the revolution. His expression gradually turned horrified as he gazed down at the dead man, mind shutting down as he tried to fully process this turn of events.
His shock was cut short when he heard a little cry from an Italian. Suddenly panicked that Italy had been the one to be hit with that gunshot, America spun around to look back. He couldn't see any blood on his uniform so he was confused until his gaze was caught by the dark red dripping from a well-muscled arm.
"Germany.." America ran over to the German. He looked shocked, clutching his left shoulder tightly with dark red liquid leaking through his fingers. Germany fell back to lean heavily against the cart, already somewhat pale. He looked unsteady as he slid down into a sitting position against the wooden contraption.
"Germany!" Italy was hyperventilating, looking panicked from the blood. "Germany don't die! You can't die, who will I sleep with at night? The night is scary without someone there, don't make me sleep all alone!"
America pulled Italy away, ignoring the sleeping together part. He would use that against Germany one of these days, but it wasn't going to happen now. His hands were shaking slightly, but that was the main sign of shock as he pressed his hand against the wound to try and keep the blood in. He glanced back at the still panicking Italian "Italy I need a cloth, a big one if you can find it." He ordered, going into 'Hero' mode. He started to talk to Germany, keep him awake. "Dude, talk to me. What are we doing here huh? What are we doing risking our necks for out here?"
The German glared at him, to the best of his abilities at the moment. "We're here to secure the Prime Minister you.. You dummkopf.."
America was actually happy to hear the insult. But blood was still flowing way too fast. "Italy, I really-"
"Here!" The American jerked to the side, away from the dark shirt thrust at him. He turned to get a better Idea of where it came from, and was greeted with the sight of the Italian, shirtless, with his jacket clutched in one hand. It would work.
America grabbed the shirt, bunching it up in one hand before pressing it firmly to the wound. Damn it, blood was getting everywhere. But America didn't think about how easily tracked they would be if the blood was analyzed, he didn't think about the danger they would be in. He actually was starting to freak out internally, worrying not only about loosing a comrade, but he was a friend too. In a way anyway, but still a god damn friend, and fuck him if he let his friend die when he had something to say about it.
"Italy, I need you to keep talking to him." America ordered again, waiting until the Italian was rattling on in front of the German, even asking some questions before he turned to the old man still sitting in the cart. He seemed to be struggling to process everything that was happening around him. "Dude," he raised his voice to try and be noticed. "Listen, I can't treat this here, and we can't let anybody die right now. Please man, we need help here."
The old man tore his eyes away from the dead man, looking at the nations on the ground. For a moment, America was afraid he would just flick his reins and leave them on the road, as his expression changed, looking serious. "You are fallen nations." He spoke with a thick Scottish accent, his voice deep and gruff.
America was shaken with the sudden accusation. How did he know? "Yes." He couldn't hide it right now. Not when their situation was so dire. "Please, we can't afford to lose someone now. We just need the supplies and a night at most. We can be gone by morning."
After a heart-pounding hesitation, the American was immensely relieved when the man nodded.
"We can put him in the back. My home isn't far from here, so I can bring you all there."

((Authors Note: oh my god it's done. Thank god, their in Scotland, with an injured soldier. Scary.
By the way, dummkopf almost literally means dumbass for all you people who haven't read a lot of Germany fanfics.
And who is the old man with his sudden knowledge on the countries? And why did the British soldiers pay so much attention to him? And is he really leading them into a trap? ... I don't know.
Hey, I'm sorry for not being consistent at all with my updating, my computer suddenly won't connect with the internet, so I seriously needed to copy all of this onto my iPod (hence the non-boldness here) and figure out how to update on my iPod. I figured out a way thank god with some help, but that just meant that I wasn't able to get this one up too quickly. Hopefully I can start updating once at least every week, but we'll see. Unfortunately, my grammar and such may go down as well because of the spell check and whatnot, but I'll try to stay up on my standards.
Also expect somewhat smaller chapters. I have very specific things I want to do, but because of that there's less stuff that can happen in the chapters.
It's great to be back on top of my writing, so we should see more in the future, and I'm just rambling now, so I'm going to go find internet to actually get this posted. Happy reading everyone!))