Dawn of the New World Order

by BlazeSilvermageVIII

Unbeknownst to the rest of the world, a number of nations have hidden their true selves. They have fooled the world, they have manipulated events and no one even suspected. Now, these nations will tear off their masks and show the world what they can really do. They will make a new world order. They will change the world... or die trying. Current arc: Schism

84. Schism: Recovery

Thanks to AquaEclipse, HelloThereHowAreYou, FGO and a guest for reviewing! Well, I finally managed to update this time. Somehow. Barely. I hope you enjoy the chapter. Sorry for any mistakes you might find, I'm tired but I'm slowly fixing them. Anyway, here's the first chapter of the new arc. Now, on with the show!

Edit: Okay, I think I've fixed most of the grammar mistakes. Sorry about that.

Liberia couldn't be happier right now.

Okay, maybe that's a little untrue. Liberia could think of a lot of gory ways that'd make his awesome day even more awesome, but whatever. Point is, he's happy. Haha! He's really, really, happy. Oh, but not just for himself (although he deserved a lot of the credit), but for his dear little brother Molossia and his two whiny and weird friends. This whole operation went exactly as perfectly as Liberia knew it would!

They did it. They really did it. They destroyed the worthless Sealand. Sure, it's Sealand and not someone who actually mattered, but they still pulled it off without a hitch. How cool was that? And as a bonus, Sealand's torture plus death must've sent England writhing on the ground.

And now they're back home in Molossia's half-decent house in Nevada (not that Liberia will ever admit that this place was a lot better than the one Liberia had back home) to celebrate their awesome victory and continue with the next phase of his GENIUS plan. They totally would've, if his sweet neurotic little brother didn't 'politely' demand that they wall wash all the blood from their clothes and bodies because he didn't want the 'Sealand Stench' or bloodstains anywhere in his house.

Also so that Kugelmugel wouldn't finger-paint the walls with blood again.

Liberia had no idea why he didn't want any of that. It's really good blood… But fine. Since he's such a good older brother, Liberia won't complain about it or paint the walls out of spite. See how much effort he's putting into their newfound brotherly affection? See?

But anyway, America will be so proud of them, he just knew it! Or at least, he will be when Liberia figured out how to convince him to be proud of them. S-Still, he's happy!

Not even HK-47's salty mood could ruin it now. And boy, did the bolthead try do just that to him and Molossia. Liberia wasn't about to let that happen.

Unfortunately, since Liberia and Molossia had to remain in the basement to… um… get rid of their tracks and clean some of the blood off the floor, they needed to be in the same room as HK-47, who seemed determined to make them tear their hair off in frustration.

"Observation: The foul-mouthed immortal meatbag appears to be unusually chipper," HK-47 had observed "truly the brutal killing of an immortal meatbag child does wonders for the immortal meatbag soul."

Liberia rolled his eyes at the thinly-veiled envy in the droid's mechanical voice.

Of course, Molossia being Molossia, he sneered at the droid and retorted gruffly, "Got a problem, HK?"

"Answer: Oh, not at all, meatbag." HK-47 answered cheerfully enough, well, as cheerful he could be when not killing someone. "I am only expressing my happiness that you enjoyed viciously attacking a young meatbag child with brutal, inhumane methods that I can perform with much more finesse and brutality than you could be capable of."

Only one of Liberia's eyes twitched Yup, he's definitely jealous.

Molossia again being Molossia, wasn't about to let it end there and scoffed. "Oh bullshit! Like you have any experience with torture being cooped up in here."

"Commentary: On the contrary, meatbag." HK-47 answered condescendingly. "My master has brought a few convicted meatbags during the tests verifying that I was indeed a perfect copy of the fictional HK-47, which I so clearly am by the way. With the aid of my programing and the meatbags, I quickly proved myself to be very talented at causing agonizing pain in many creative ways."

According to Molossia tradition and since Liberia's little brother hated having his peaceful mood interrupted, normally this would be the part where a semi-hilarious and frustrating trash-talk competition would begin. He sighed

"Yeah, yeah, don't get full of yourself, rust bucket." Molossia scowled before turning away to dust himself off again, his scowl fading soon after..

…or not.

Shaking his head, a surprised Liberia watched wide-eyed as his little brother didn't further provoke the damn droid. Huh. . Wow. Molossia must be in a lot better mood than Liberia thought he was. Sure, he was still giddy by the time they were beamed back home, but that brat had a habit of snapping too easily, even in a happy mood.

Eh, good for him. Honest. Molossia could thank him for that in a few minutes.

Using this as an opportunity to finish some business, Liberia then stepped up to the rust bucket and looked pointedly at him with narrowed eyes. "So, bolthead."

"Statement: Yes, African immortal meatbag?"

Liberia tried not to let that piss him off. "Remember the deal, HK. You keep all this to yourself and I'll convince Alfred to let you in on all the action, got it?"

He wasn't totally sure how he was going to pull that off, but hey, he's a good talker! If he could convince DRC to join the Order and Molossia to try to get along with Liberia instead of being such sourpuss all the time, convincing America to let his killer robot strike terror into the hearts of their enemies shouldn't be too hard. I mean, HK-47 could be really useful.

Besides, just imagine the looks on the enemies' faces when they see a freaking droid from Star Wars videogame show up to blast them to oblivion. How funny would that be?

Hopefully America won't wonder why he's so suddenly eager for HK-47 to be revealed to the world though, at least until Liberia could come up with a good explanation for the Sealand incident and why his older brother shouldn't ground them for acting without permission or adult Order supervision. Or slam dunk them into pavement. Or banish them to California… or to South Dakota… again.

"Statement: The deal is well-recorded in my memory, black meatbag. My memory banks are infinitely superior to your organic ones, I'll have you know. So superior they are that I had recorded the entire conversation should you fail to fulfill your end of this bargain."

…What?

Molossia's jaw practically plummeted to the ground. Yeah, Liberia kind of agreed with him there for once.

If Liberia wasn't in such a darn good mood, he probably would've given HK-47 the satisfaction of him flipping out. Still, the urge to groan slam dunk this trash-talking, cocky, disrespectful, haughty piece of junk down a furnace for daring to imply that he's going to blackmail Liberia was really, really, really strong. No… No, no, no, Liberia. Come on, you know you're better than that. You are better than that.

You just came from a completely successful but unauthorized mission. How awesome was that? Y-You know the 'successful' part, not the 'authorized' thing. You should be happy with yourself and not let anything rain on your parade!

But boy, what wouldn't he give for Morocco's soothing advice or for America to be here with them?

Wait a minute. Liberia felt a new surge of joy as something quickly hit him, and he felt himself. Yeah… Speaking of America, Liberia would be ashamed to call himself America's favorite little brother now if he lost his calm. His older brother taught him everything he'd ever need to know after all, and that included patience and how to back-talk your cocky opponents.

"Yeah… I'm sure Al would really appreciate that you recorded the whole conversation," Liberia remarked with the best smug smirk in history. "You know, instead of getting pissed off that you agreed to the whole thing instead of trying to stop us."

Not even long after dealing that blow, he heard Molossia snort from nearby. See, see?

"Obvious Statement: It appears I have I underestimate the capability of logic in you inferior immortal meatbags."

"More like you didn't think this through."

"Annoyed Statement: Damn it, meatbag, I am an assassination droid not a negotiator!"

Liberia absolutely cracked up at that, and he could clearly hear, to his delight, Molossia laughing along with him.

After that was dealt with and Liberia was sure that they could spend the rest of the day completely droid-free and the robots from Mystery Science 3000 weren't out of their pens, he and his brother were content (at least Liberia was) in waiting chilling against the wall while they waited for Ladonia and Kugelmugel to finish washing up.

"You look happy," Liberia noted in his usually cheerful manner, the way he always was around his dear little brother.

Molossia's smile immediately dropped from his face. Typical little brother. "Yeah. Got a problem with it, you bastard?"

"Pssh, don't be ridiculous, Dumbassia," Liberia snorted at that ridiculous idea. How could he think that, after all the planning he made and how many times he had to deal with Kugelmugel criticizing his art skills. Just to make it worse, Liberia pouted at him. "If I did, I wouldn't have taken you to kill Sealand, would I?"

His poor little brother's face turned red from pure embarrassment at that and started going on half-coherent grouchy stammering that he 'totally knew that', and Liberia couldn't resist giggling at his expense. Yeah, Liberia's totally winning this time.

"Fine. For once you're right, Lib." Molossia admitted grudgingly, straightening up.

"Hmm… I can think of a lot of times where I was right." Liberia said innocently, smiling slyly.

"Bullshit." Molossia spat, and looked away angrily while demanding, "What the hell do you want, anyway?

Liberia felt himself grin excitedly. This was it.

"Well?" He spoke up expectantly, knowing that he had the smuggest grin on his face right now.

Molossia automatically glared at him. "Well what, Shitberia?"

Liberia rolled his eye at that dumb insult. Man, his little brother so lacked creativity. Like anything could piss him off right now.

Giggling, Liberia's shit grin grew wider and he stepped closer to Molossia, who looked ready to hit him. "Come on, say it, Molly. I was able to help you destroy Sealand and get your wonderful revenge. Am I a good brother or what?"

To make things even better, Liberia sneakily wrapped an arm around his growling brother lovingly, and smirked while he felt Molossia's murderous glare on him. He could get used to this brotherly affection.

"Come on, Mol! Haven't I done a lot for you, today?" Liberia said sweetly "Not only did you get out of this boring sandbox for a change-"

"IT'S NOT A SANDBOX, YOU FUCKING–"

"ALRIGHT!" Liberia boomed even louder, now feeling irritated, and he sighed. Calm down, Lib. Calm down. He smiled again, "Not only did you get out of this place for a change, but you got rid of that annoying wannabe for good, completely destroyed his pride and joy and more importantly, and probably caused England extreme pain. We did all of that."

Molossia's lips twitched up to form a small smile "Yeah. Yeah, we did do all that, didn't we?""

"Wasn't it fun?" Liberia pressed, grin widening as he hugged Molossia closer.

"It felt fucking awesome." Molossia sniggered.

"Of course it did." "And you have me, your amazing older brother to thank. What do you have to say to that, huh?

Molossia's eyebrow twitched, and his mouth formed a sneer. He looked extremely conflicted, not to mention angry. and Liberia was about to press him further when Molossia sighed.

"Guess you're right…" Molossia muttered and glanced to and fro at Liberia and the hallway. "You– You really did that for me, huh? It wasn't because you wanted someone to kill for shits and giggles."

"As if!" Liberia scoffed derisively. "Sealand was yours to kill, brother, and I never steal kills. I'd never forgive myself if I did. Besides, I figured you'd need it…"

"Hm." Was all Molossia said in response to that. "Thanks"

Liberia spent a completely embarrassing amount of time just staring at Molossia blankly before what he heard fully sank in.

"…Huh?"

And just when Liberia thought that his brother had him surprised, instead of his bratty brother laughing at his race, he watched as Molossia slowly raised his bloodstained right hand to his head and took off his shades, revealing the surprisingly soft brown eyes that he rarely showed to anyone who wasn't named America.

"I mean it. Thanks, Tehpoe. I appreciate what you did. Maybe you're not such an entitled bastard after all." Molossia said earnestly, still frowning, but there was gratefulness in his eyes.

Liberia stared wide-eyed and (maybe) with his mouth agape. Even though he was expecting to hear that or something like that from Molossia, he wasn't expecting to hear it that fast, and for a moment Liberia wondered if the transporter scrambled a bit of Molossia's brain or something. Did… Did that seriously just happen?

"…Say what now?"

He could've sworn he stopped with the drugs ever since America said he'd send him to the Tower of Love for a month…

"God. Close your mouth, will ya, bastard? I can smell your corpse breath from here!"

Liberia snickered at that. Yeah, some things will never change.

"Oh, who cares about that? Come on. I still need to tell you about the second phase of my plan!"

"Already?!"

/ / / / /

Romano now fully believed that if there really was a Lady Luck (that God created for some reason) she really loved him and hated him so much that she liked screwing him over and help him at the same.

No, seriously. One long look at his shitty life from the days of his shitty granddad all the way to the fucking present was all the evidence that could show even a moron how much luck loved and hated him at the same time. It's the only logical explanation. Well, unless every single one of Romano's pain in the asses were all part of God's plan, because despite everything he's still a Catholic, in which case… it's still pretty messed up.

Even with the news that he's gonna be seeing sweet and beautiful Honduras, who sweetly, nicely asked him out on a idea and even patiently listened to his selfish rambling, Romano's gone through enough hoops and that shit to know that there's bound to be something

So… contrary to his pessimistic expectations that he'll likely have to wait and try not to die of boredom here in the airport while he waited for the soonest available flight to Honduras… It turned out that there actually was a flight for Honduras available.

And when Romano had first checked it out, it was due to leave in less than two hours.

Huh. Maybe Honduras pulled some strings to get him the flight, or even better, that God finally decided to not screw with his life for once. Romano smirked smugly to himself. Either way, he felt pretty damn happy for himself. Yes, score one for Romano!

And God, Romano had never been so glad that he didn't use a taxi and just went the old fashioned way by running as fast as his tough feet could take him straight to the airport. And people say Veneziano ran like the fucking wind, ha! He wouldn't be caught. The traffic here in Rio de Janerio could give Rome's a run for its money, ugh. Romano shuddered.

Imagine what would've happen if he'd been that stupid and got stuck. He'd be stuck in this shitty country even longer!

Well, not anymore! Romano chuckled evilly to himself. His goddamn plane was finally here, no delays, right on schedule.

So, Romano, feeling reinvigorated in light of the universe cutting him a break for once and the fact that he'd be seeing Honduras, wasted no time in going straight to the tunnel with nothing than a big smile on his face, his previous problems now all on the back on his mind. He didn't know about you, but he had a damn good feeling about this.

"Don't worry, I'm coming, Ana Sofia. Next stop: Tegucigalpa!"

/ / / / /

"Chin! He's already at the airport!" Mexico exclaimed in a (not) panic as she received the next infuriated message from Brazil.

After it was rightfully pointed out that by standing around an, they're basically doing nothing but giving South Italy more time to escape the country, something that Mexico would've really appreciated to have been told earlier you know, they quickly made a run towards the car to continue trailing their target before he could make his escape.

And my, Brazil's not happy. Then again, none of them were right now.

Oh no, no, no, it's not just because they lost some valuable time, it's not because Mexico was still a little angry with Brazil for being a little distracted (although, to be fair, he's in the middle of multitasking) with the South Italy hunt, it's not because, and it's not even because they still haven't gotten anywhere near South Italy's current. No. Oh, no. Mexico's especially grouchy right

They're being impeded by one of the most annoying, inconvenient and embarrassing things possible.

Traffic.

"Well, the traffic's not moving any faster!" Argentina yelled angrily, beating on the car horn again.

Argentina was driving with Guatemala next to him, obviously leaving her no choice but to take the back. Mexico would happily take the wheel, but Argentina quickly dibs to the driving seat and forbid her from ever touching it again. God, just because she had a habit of 'driving like a maniac' and crashing when she's in a bad mood…

"We need to do something!"

"Obviously. But what can we do?"

"Um – Uh…" Mexico bit her lip, snapping her fingers until an idea hit finally hit her. "Quick! Do either of you have a rocket launcher with them or something?

Argentina and Guatemala had the nerve to look at her as if she was stupid. "Rosa, does it look like either of us has a rocket launcher with us?!"

Mexico groaned loudly "Grr– Fine. Let's just run back to Brazil's house, get the rocket launchers, use a shortcut to teleport ourselves to the airport and shoot down Romano or the plane he's on before it's too late!

The wince that came over Argentina's face only added on her stress. "I can't. I left mine at home."

"Huh, so did I." Guatemala piped up in dull surprise, scratching his cheek.

At this rate, Mexico practically exploded upon them. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN NEITHER OF YOU BROUGHT A ROCKET LAUNCHER?!"

"Why the hell would any of us bring a rocket launcher to a get-together?!" Argentina yelled back.

"I don't know!" Mexico screamed in frustration.

"Exactly! And what the hell are you yelling at us for?! Are you seriously telling us that you brought a rocket launcher? Have you ever even used a rocket launcher?"

Mexico stammered in response, flushed, "I-I– Well, no, I didn't bring one because I didn't think that Brazil would have a psychotic break today. But of course I know how to use a rocket launcher, you forro! We were all trained to handle any kind of firearm there is, remember?!"

"I know. But so what the hell?!"

"Why can't we ask Brazil to get his mind to send a missile to the plane, or the airport?" Guatemala helpfully suggested, and just when Mexico began to perk up at what she thought was a good idea, Argentina shut it down.

"What if arrives too late when the plane's over the ocean? Then how are we going to find the body?" Argentina asked skeptically, sounding distasted at the idea.

Mexico groaned into her hands. Oh, Brazil's going to kill them.

/ / / / /

Georgia never thought a lot about how a nation could die. She's always one to focus on life and enjoy it as much as possible. Better to live in the present and not let unfortunate things or other people (coughRussiacough) ruin your day, was what Georgia would sometimes say to herself. She never even really thought about killing another nation, much less how she would do it…

And now, now, Georgia found herself about to kill two of the hated she hated the most in her whole life… permanently. Finally shut those annoying voices out of her life and finally let her move on. Now after finally making them suffer all the pain she and her people went through.

She couldn't even begin to describe how satisfying it was to finally do just that– make them pay with her own hands.

In the meantime while the others had their turn having their 'fun', Georgia had spent a good chunk of her spare time watching on with a scowl and her arms crossed like a stern mother looking down at her two. Not a bad way to look at her relationship with Abkhazia and South Ossetia in her opinion…

The others were brutal, though even that's probably a mild way to put it. America wasn't joking when he said that most of them were ruthless and/or sadistic. And while seeing them smile and laugh at did unnerve her a little she'll admit, not helped by how she's still letting this new reality sink in,

America mentioned that there was a way to kill a nation permanently, like, with one's own two hands, and he promised to tell her about it later. Georgia wasn't sure if she could believe it at first, but considering all the stuff she's finding out today, she slowly nodded her head while blinking puzzledly. Part of her couldn't help but interpret that he didn't trust her with this vital information.

And Georgia was nothing if not a young woman who always spoke her mind no matter, so she didn't hesitate to bring this up to the people she's trying to trust.

"This isn't because you don't trust me, right?" Georgia asked bluntly with a slight frown.

America snorted at the question, shrugging his shoulders, and calmly responded. "'Course not. Wouldn't have come here and told you the whole truth if I didn't have complete faith in you."

Admittedly, Georgia felt warmth in her heart in hearing how America truly trusted her, but she pressed on anyway, "So what's the problem?"

"You see, we usually save sensitive information like that after the member is officially and truly a new member. And since you said that you wouldn't help us until we prove to you that you can trust us, so…"

Georgia's eyes widened and she felt her face heat up in slight embarrassment over how she forgot about the situation that she asked to be in. "Oh… Oh, yes. That's a good point. Sorry."

"Don't sweat it. Here at the Order, you don't ever have to worry when speaking your mind." "We place a lotta value on trust. And gonesty is the best pol

"And no, the irony of that is not lost on any of us." North Korea dryly added, smirking.

Georgia laughed.

They let her do the honors. Georgia gladly obliged and grinned broadly in glee as she stabbed them both in the crotch, many times, until their pained cries finally died out and she's sure that she finally rid the world of these two arrogant bastards. It deserved better than to have these two exist.

When she knew that they were as good as that, she ripped out the knife one last time, and released a breath she didn't know she had been holding

There. She did it. She… really killed them.

She's finally free.

Georgia could barely hear how the others were congratulating her as she stared at the two bodied, South Ossetia's frozen terror-stricken expression and Abkhazia's tear stained face mouth hanging open as a result from his pleas for mercy that went unheard until the end. Suffering all the pain Georgia's people had suffered as she had promised, they broke along with their stupid pride before finally put an end to their existence.

You know, she had never really imagined this moment. Maybe in some of her fantasies when she was in her angrier and bitter moods, she did imagine gutting them as they begged for mercy, and even then, it wasn't anything like this…

Georgia felt happy, she felt content, satisfied. She laughed, maybe a little breathlessly, but she laughed in relief.

Even now, Georgia still couldn't believe that it's over.

It just hadn't still completely… sunk in, she supposed. But then again, who would expect to suddenly have your greatest wish granted and more with no strings attached in one day? More importantly, she's also still digesting this whole discovery about the New World Order and the real personalities of the people around her she thought she knew.

But she had to say, after today, she decided that she could definitely get used to them.

"You did good." Iran had said to her, suddenly approaching

Georgia tried not to shift in discomfort. He's still her friend. And she should be glad he's not suffering anymore. "Thanks. So did you."

"I always knew you'd join us," Iran said proudly at her, smiling down kindly at her with the mania she was used to seeing in his eyes nowhere to be seen. "I just knew it. You had the guts and the spirit. And I knew you wouldn't disappoint."

Georgia beamed at that. She liked the real Iran, she really did. "Thank you, Amir, for having faith in me."

"I… I know it's a little late, but since so much was happening we didn't have time to talk, so I want to say that," Iran grimaced, but he never broke eye-contact as the pain on his face became more and more evident. He clenched his fists. "I'm sorry. I know it's not enough. I did what I had to do and I couldn't risk involving you. But I mean those words. I'm sorry for lying to you."

Biting her lip, Georgia stared at the ground. "You weren't pretending for that long, were you?"

"No. Even then, the only thing I was hiding was my real feelings towards Islam, I promise." Iran said solemnly. The pain was clear in his eyes. "I only started acting only a few centuries ago, especially after the Revaluation. But my love and kindness toward you had never been a lie. Not even once. Every friendly word I said, every smile, with you it was completely genuine."

Chewing on her lip, Georgia felt her buried resentment and pain that she had been hiding for the past several hours finally bubble up to the surface.

"Do you truly mean that?"

"I do. Please, Georgia. The years of lies are over."

"N-no, don't worry, I believe you," Georgia assured him gently before Iran could become more anguished, folding her arms. "But that doesn't mean I like what you did."

"But can you ever forgive me?" Iran asked, almost pleading, desperate.

"Of course I can, Amir. You're my friend and I doubt we'll able to cooperate in the future if I hold a grudge." Georgia answered softly, and meaning every word of it. "It's… I just need some time, is all. Although you did help me get rid of South Ossetia and Abkhazia, so maybe you don't have to wait too long."

Iran actually chuckled at that. It no longer sounded as hollow and broken as it was when he was acting.

"You're a nice girl, Bedisa. My fake self didn't deserve you." Iran's voice carried heavy remorse, but he smiled all the same. "But even so, thank you for being my friend despite everything that happened. I hope that'll continue."

She patted him on the back. "I'm here as your friend until the end, Amir."

Georgia had never seen Iran so overjoyed.

Especially after that, she felt content.

She was truly content. But there's someone she still needed speak to. When Georgia finally exited the room after Norway helped magically clean everyone up, she was extremely happy to see she was quickly greeted by the sight of America walking toward her, friendly as ever.

"Hey, Alfred!" Georgia grinned at his direction.

"Hey there, Bedisa," America happily waved at her, walking up to her. "Man, you look pretty happy."

Georgia chuckled, nodding. "I am, I really am! Thank you."

"So… how was it? Did you get what you hoped for?" America asked her with that warm smile.

Despite that she's still reeling from it all, Georgia's overjoyed with everything that's happened today and she knew it was all thanks to America for making it possible and for inviting her to join this group. Grinning and wanting to express how grateful and happy that she was that he went through so much trouble just for her, Georgia sprinted forward and nearly tackled him down in a tight hug.

It's the first thing that popped in her mind that she could do to repay him.

"Thank you. Thank you so much, Alfred." Georgia said softly, laughing breathlessly between sentences, smiling without a care in the world. "I don't know how to… I… Thanks. I mean it."

She couldn't help but giggle at how she heard him stutter and stammer as he awkwardly returned the embrace. Oh, he's so cute when he's embarrassed. And she also overheard what the other nations were saying.

"Oh, our little brother does have a way to charm the ladies, huh?" Norway smiled proudly, looking close to crying.

"It's in his blood." Sweden stated almost approvingly in his usual flat tone.

"If only he chose one of them," Finland grumbled in what sounded like bitterness, glaring at one particular direction.

Yeah… America does have a certain charm to him, didn't he? Georgia giggled to herself.

"Whoa there, two! You might wanna break away now. North here looks like he's gonna explode!" Turkey's loud silly voice cut through the moment.

Georgia's eyes widened and she turned her back to see that, yes, just like before, North Korea was standing behind her looking like he's trying very hard not to kill her.

Laughing nervously, Georgia reluctantly released the stiff and red-faced America and smiled apologetically at the Asian.

"Sorry?" She shrugged, not actually feeling remorseful about what she did.

"Ngh," North Korea growled like a grumpy dog.

Oh well.

"Everyone, thank you all for helping me get my land back. I won't forget it." Georgia smiled to everyone, not feeling so uneasy at having so many eyes on her anymore. "I-I don't think I can ever repay you, but…"

"You don't have to thank us, Georgia," America said, smiling and still blushing from the hug.

"Yes! I think I can speak for everyone when I say that there's only one thing on our minds and there is obviously one way you can repay this debt," Turkey unexpectedly spoke up, of course smirking, as he pointed right at Georgia. "Now that you have your land back, and Abkhazia and South Ossetia are gone, will you now join us in our war for a better world? Will you join us in our fight against the entire world to the very end? Will you, Georgia, help us save the world or die trying?"

That's right. There's one way to repay them and continue bettering her life, wasn't there? And didn't she have her end up the bargain to keep? More important, she wanted this. She truly, deeply wanted this. To hell with any consequences that might come with it.

"I am. I'm ready to officially join the New World Order, finally destroy Russia, and help you all out whenever needed."

Her declaration was quickly met with a round of applause and cheers from everyone. Georgia couldn't hope for a better reception.

The next few minutes flew by, with Georgia spending them with America explaining more about the– their organization worked and watching the Nordics take South Ossetia and Abkhazia's corpses away, mentioning that they were going to take their remains to 'human resources in case the Africans ever starve', which Georgia surprisingly didn't care to think too much about.

It was easy to understand and digest. Every member was usually always on some kind of mission, whether it'd be assassination's, attacks, spying and keeping an eye on the prisoners (by the way, there's prisoners). When they finish their mission, they're permitted to remain on standby or do whatever they want (what didn't go against orders and the group's interests at least) until they were informed of their next task.

"Of course! A deal's a deal, dude. Now that this is over, "

"Norway?" Georgia echoed, and of course she then asked, "How come?"

"Because, little lady, the place where we're going isn't exactly what one might call… eh… safe." Norway explained as he walked into the conversation wearing a sheepish grin, but his eyes glinted with excitement. "I'll be there to provide magical protection."

"What? Why? Protection from what?"

"Use your head. Our lady is the one who can destroy the general, and what is strong against-?"

Somehow, for some reason, that statement just made something in Georgia snap. "Why? Why do I have to use my head? Why can't you just give me a straight answer now that I've joined? Is everyone in the Order this painfully cryptic all the time?"

Norway sucked in a breath with a remorseless grin and turned to America, "Should we tell her now or… later?"

Georgia's eye twitched. "Nevermind. I think that answered my question"

"Don't take it personally, Georgia. We are manipulators, though we do not lie to our own, we do like to surprise people."

"Even your own members?"

"Especially the new members." Norway agreed eagerly. "Why, to tell the fresh meat the surprise would significantly lessen the impact!"

"Thank you, Norway. I think you've said enough." America sighed, showing visible irritation. "Anyway, Uncle P? You're coming with us too."

"Huh? Wot?"Ireland deadpanned, blinking in visible confusion while pointing a finger to himself. "I'm going too?"

"Yep," America replied.

"Any special reason why, Al?" He asked curiously, before shrugging. "Not that I mind spending time with ya, Allie, on the contrary actually. But I'm supposed to be getting my Guinness from Denny,"

Denmark noticeably scowled at the reminder.

"You'll have plenty of time to get drunk again and piss off Matt later, Patrick. This is something I want you and Bedisa to see." America said with an enigmatic smile. "I want this to be the final proof that we, the Order, will win the coming war."

Ireland snorted, and smirked. "What, is the political situation we solved in less than one day enough to prove our superiority?

"This is special. This is our key to destroying General Winter, and with it Russia, we're talking about it. You need to see it believe it and believe that we will win."

"Oh." Ireland blinked, and slowly began to smile. "Well, that actually sounds exciting. Count me in, Al!"

Georgia was now more curios than ever. "But where are we going, Alfred?"

To that, America winked. "Well, how do you guys about feel an all-expenses paid trip to Hawaii?"

/ / / / /

Everything hurt.

When Belgium returned to full consciousness, she was hit with a pang of pain from every inch of her body, as if she had strained every limb somehow. It felt so, so much worse than the entire Parliament and the Royal Family - those poor children - was so brutally wiped out. Why did it have to hurt so much?

The first thing she became aware off was that she couldn't move her arms, or her legs, and she immediately began panicking and trying. She looked around seeing nothing but a dimly lit dark room filled with dust, and then she cried out. Why's she here? Where was she? Why? Why? Where's her brother? She saw that something's binding her hands, cuffs, maybe? And why couldn't she look down?

She froze.

There– There's something on her face. Something in her mouth too. What's on her face? It was tight. It hurt. Belgium thoughtlessly tried to bring her hands to her face – but wait, she couldn't. Her hands were stuck.

She couldn't even move.

Lost and stricken with terror and anguish, she mindlessly tried to croak out a cry for her brother to help, only to feel something pierce her tongue. She immediately winced and stifled a yelp as pain struck the organ – feeling something sharp piercing it as she moved it up to speak, and she found herself almost screaming when she felt the horrible prick again. Belgium found herself forced to stifle her own crying.

Something– There had to be something in her mouth. Why? Why?

She couldn't even figure out the answers to her own questions.

She started to resign herself to crying miserable while fearfully keeping her tongue as down as possible and dealing with how uncomfortable it all fell and , only to flinch when she heard footsteps. Unknown to her, her body started trembling while her terrified green eyes remained fixed in the darkness in front of her, until someone came into view...

"Bonjour, Emma." DRC greeted mockingly in a low voice, his grin too unnaturally wise and unhinged for someone like him. "How... nice to see you awake."

Belgium's eyes went wide in horror. What happened to her was completely fresh in her mind. She remembered everything. She remembered what he did to her. Have to escape. Have to escape. Get away from him. Now. NOW.

"Do you know what that is, the unique muzzle you have? Or rather, bridle, to be exact?" DRC asked in an unusually excited but calm manner, then looked pensive as Belgium flailed. "Hmm, I guess you wouldn't. It was mostly used in England and Scotland if I remember correctly,"

The bound and gagged and mortified woman was hardly listening. She wanted to leave here. She struggled against the binds and tried to spit out the blood and spit filling up her mouth without making it worse. That was a mistake. Belgium failed to notice how DRC's calm demeanor contorted into an annoyed scowl.

Belgium found herself wrenched out of her panicked frenzy when DRC suddenly yanked her hair, causing an alarmed and pained yelp from the woman and feel her tongue be pierced something again. She gagged on the blood as DRC leaned until he was only inches from her face.

"Pay attention." DRC growled, and Belgium could only weakly nod as he let her go.

"Now… They call this the scold's bridle, or the gossip's bridle," DRC explained fondly while Belgium tried not to gag as she tried to desperately to slip her hands out. "Do you like it? It's specifically made for women, you know. Back then, if a woman was deemed rude, troublesome, was a common scold or husbands just wanted their wives to stop nagging them, they would put this on the nagging woman's head as punishment."

Belgium listened, immobilized by fear, but she finally spat the blood out of her mouth before going into a coughing fit. DRC didn't appear to care.

"The mask's use was primarily psychological; usually the woman would be publicly humiliated as she was paraded through the town with the mask to repent her 'riotous' behavior while onlookers cursed and spit at her." He finished dully as Belgium coughed on her own blood, her begs for DRC to let her go ignored. " "However, it wouldn't be medieval torture device if it couldn't cause physical pain. I'm sure you've noticed by now…"

Belgium could only whimper in response as he shot her a feral grin.

"Do you know those sharp things you feel in your mouth, right over the tongue, keeping it down? They're spikes, really, really sharp spikes." DRC practically shook as he said those words, grin impossibly wide. "With those, it's impossible speak without horribly piercing your tongue and suffer the pain that came with it.

Belgium could feel her eyes bulge out in terror in light of this revelation. She tried to get coherent words out of her mouth, to plead with him to get it off, to let her go. But nearly every word resulted in her now tongue feeling the pointy tip of the spike, and she faltered.

"Meaning, even if you scream as loudly as you can, it still won't release you from the pain." DRC added gleefully, leaning closer to the terrified woman. "How horrible, non? I might just start truly respecting you Europeans for coming up with such creatively brutal ways to keep your people in line."

She shook her head frantically, frightened tears pricking her eyes.

"Ha… Ha… I really like that face you have, Belgium, and the masks just… adds to the charm." DRC chuckled darkly, "You have no idea how pathetic you look right now. I should get you a mirror. But this– this is just the beginning."

Belgium could do nothing but squirm as DRC's chuckling slowly turned into murderous, deranged cackling.

"Now, Emma, it is my extreme pleasure to welcome you here to your new home," DRC slowly raised his hand to reveal it holding a long, spiked… weapon of some kind. "Hell."

/ / / / /

Somehow, Panama felt even more frustrated than before.

This wasn't turning out as Panama had expected. It's not like he was good at predicting the future like some of the Order members, but when it came to them, it was usually pretty clear how things would go down. These guys don't know what they're in for, challenging the Order.

When Germany and the others left, Panama watched them go from afar with folded arms and an aloof scowl, offering no words to them. He had nothing else on his mind but the thought that they're walking to their doom and that at least this way, the other Central Americans would see how hopeless it was.

But then they came back.

They came back.

They weren't supposed to come back. The Africans were vicious and ruthless, among the worst the Order had to offer. Facing more than one of them was asking for a painful death sentence, and that's what Panama thought would happen. But they came back, bruised and bloody, but alive.

How?

He hoped that this would teach them a lesson, a very rude awakening but necessary, so that they could stop this stupid and come back home where they belong. But no, that didn't happen at all. Aside from France being the only one to have been captured and thrown to suffer a fate worse than death somewhere, everyone else came back, and as if that wasn't enough, they returned with the two nations they were hoping to find and rescue too!

Instead of making them feel rightfully discouraged, this only bolstered their confidence further. Even with France gone, it didn't change the fact that they – the nations opposing the Order – won. And he knew this because they did a terrible job at hiding it.

The Central Americans had taken to lounging around in the living room for a while, so it was only natural that Panama would be there as well. He was there, leaning against a wall while the others did their own thing. Belize was on one of the sofas, loudly eating some chips she brought from home while Honduras scolded her for her manners. Nicaragua was swinging her bat like she always did when she wanted to unwind. And Costa Rica… well, he was watching Belize and Honduras with an amused smile while occasionally glancing at Panama.

Overall, the atmosphere, while grim in light of what happened to France as well as due to the situation looming over them, felt calmer and more at ease than before.

And Panama couldn't stand it.

"What's WRONG with you?" He screamed at them, not being able to take any more

His outburst immediately startled the others, with everyone stopping whatever they were doing to either stare at him wide-eyed or glare at him (AKA Nicaragua).

"Guh– Hey, what's gotten into you, Panama?" Belize irately demanded after nearly choking on her chips.

"I don't get it! Why are all of you so calm?!" Panama yelled even louder. "Germany and some other nations barely come back, bleeding all over, and suddenly everything is okay?"

Costa Rica frowned, probably aware of where this was going. And he wasn't happy. "Emanuel…"

"What's wrong, Panama?" Honduras asked in concern. "Why are you angry with Germany and the others coming back?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong." Panama growled, too tired to care about how irrational he sounded. "What's wrong is that now that Germany's team has come back from Switzerland, all of you seem to suddenly think that that actually means something."

"Geez. You're such a downer, Panama." Belize scowled and she grabbed a fistful of chips from her bag. "Can't you be happy for us just this once? We won."

"France is gone." Panama reminded her flatly.

The mood in the room quickly soured with that statement. Belize stopped loudly chewing her chips. Nicaragua's seemingly permanent scowl deepened. Honduras's ever-patient smile vanished to be replaced with a pained frown. And Costa Rica flinched, but glared at Panama as if he was in the wrong for stating a fact. Panama desperately tried his best to ignore and put out the now burned memory out of his mind.

"Poor France…" Belize mumbled grimly.

"I… I pray that Francia will be all right and that he'll be able to be saved one day, but…" Honduras's hands were tightly grasped together, and her lips formed a slightly pained smile. "I don't think that means what you think it means…?"

"What?" Panama asked sharply.

"I… Come on, look at it this way, Emanuel." Honduras tried again in a more soothing voice and a warm smile that did little calm Panama. "I mean, doesn't this prove that we do have a chance? I wish Francia didn't have to go, but we still won, right?"

A chance? Panama would've felt like laughing at the absurd idea if he wasn't so angry. They never stood a chance.

"I agree." Costa Rica piped up, having that cold disappointed look on him even as Panama looked at him in betrayal. "Everyone else came back alright; well, sort of, right? Egypt and Romania are not… dead, dead. And Liechtenstein and Mauritius got rescued. They did all that in enemy territory too."

Panama tried and failed to ignore the pain "Felix, please, you don't understa–"

"For once, we agree." Nicaragua said gruffly, and she looked pointedly at Panama. "Things are looking up for us. We scored our first victory in a planned attack."

"So? With one victory, you think you stand a chance?" Panama snapped angrily, his fists shaking, tempting him to tear his hair off. He almost wanted to cry out. Why? Why? Why?

"Well, technically…" Belize began in that usual lazy, dry tone of hers, causing Panama to tense further. "This isn't our first victory. Look where we are now."

This time, Panama did laugh, but just a little. "Si, with targets on your backs and only a few steps away from finding yourselves on the Order's death list!"

"Maybe, but we knew that going in," Belize stated with a frustrating amount of nonchalance. "And we're still here. And Germany and his team won."

"Don't get your hopes up. If it weren't for that– dog, they would've lost. They would've lost badly." Panama hissed with venom. Maybe unwarranted, especially at Honduras, but the furious and frustrated mind of Panama could care less about that.

Belize scoffed, and rolled her eyes as her hand dug into the bags of chips again. "Yeah. And if it weren't for those giant lightning bird things–

"Impundulu." Honduras helpfully put in.

"Whatever," Rolling her eyes again, Belize munched on her chips and continued talking even as Honduras chided her. "Anyway, if it weren't for those monsters, Germany and the others would've had a fairer fight and still had more than a decent chance at winning. Also, if the birds hadn't been there and the others had Anubis, it would've been the fastest rescue ever!"

Surely, it wouldn't have been that simple. Panama growled, "You don't know that Belize. You saw how they looked when they returned–"

"Oh, and you do?" Nicaragua cut him off viciously, eyeing him coldly.

Panama turned his glare at her, damn woman. "Of course I do. Unlike you all, I actually know them!"

That was a mistake.

Panama actually found himself flinching when all four of his friends glared at him, all with varying degrees of resentment and accusation. It felt like a haeshslap in the face. Especially at the way even the usually patient and calm Honduras was staring at him in equal amounts disappointment and aforementioned resentment, and the way Costa Rica was glaring at him. Like Panama was the monster, like it was his fault.

But then again, it kind of was, wasn't it? By keeping the truth to himself, Panama was an accomplice. He helped in keeping the truth hidden and willingly lied to them even though he made it clear that he never enjoyed it. It hurt him to lie. But it didn't change that he was a liar.

"And how is that our fault, señor neutral?" Costa Rica hissed, his voice dripping with resentment and, most notably, hurt. Hateful.

He could feel it. He was trembling now, but for once it wasn't out of anger. "I-I…"

"You promised." Costa Rica continued bitterly, "You said that you'd keep an open mind, but you can't even do that. Even after our talk, you're still behaving like this. Have you taken a good look at yourself lately, Emanuel? You're angry that people didn't die, because if they did, you think it would've made us quit."

"Of course I'm angry! Look at everything's that happened since I agreed to this! The Baron attacked, he killed Bahamas and Saint Lucia, you four almost agreed to travel to your deaths in Brazil, Haiti showed up and you risked pissing him off by not telling him where France was."

"So you'd rather we'd sell France out instead?"

"Si." Panama answered without hesitation. "It wouldn't have made much of a difference, anyway. He was already fighting for his life–"

"Uh, excuse me," Belize interjected with some chuckling and a strained smile, raising her hand. "But you've seen how Germany and co looked when they came back, and from the sounds of it, they barely came back. If Haiti jumped in, things would've gotten seriously bad."

Panama gritted his teeth. "Maybe, but you guys wouldn't have been in danger. You don't know what Haiti can do."

"Oh? Well maybe we'd feel a little more scared if you told us." Nicaragua said accusingly.

He felt frighteningly tempted to strangle Nicaragua at this point. Panama exploded, "I told you, pendeja. I'm neutral. How many times do I have to say it to–

"Regardless," Costa Rica cut in with an uncharacteristically harsh voice that honestly chilled Panama to the core, and even made the furious Nicaragua falter. "We all knew what we were getting ourselves into. If this is how it's going to be, then–

"Exactly. That's how it's going to be until every single nation here has been taken or killed." Panama was yelling at this point, pouring out all his feelings, and he knew that he's probably on the verge of tears. "Have any of you ever stopped to think what it's like for me to be unable to do anything but just watch it all happen?! I can't stop anyone. I can't intervene without pissing off one side and possibly screwing me and my country over in the process. I can't do anything but watch while all of you throw your lives away for this pointless cause!"

There. He said it. Panama sucked in a breath sharply after that rant, panting as he watched Costa Rica's surprised expression.

"Do you know how it hurts to do that, Felix? Do you think I'm happy? I hate it! I'm worried about you! I'm worried about all of you! I wish I can warn you, I wish I can tell you, but I keep telling you, I can't! Either way, it'll end in disaster!"

No matter what he'd do, a whole lot of people will be mad at him. And in some cases, it might lead to things becoming even worse than intended. Panama doesn't want that. He really, really doesn't want that.

"But you, all of you have a choice." He began again shakily, his hands shaking once again, allowing his voice to show the hope. "None of you have to do this. You came here by your own choice, so you can leave too. You can turn back before it's too late. The Order is changing things. All our problems will disappear with their help. Our economy, crime rates, corruption, everything… gone, if you

For just a split second, he saw it. Costa Rica's became alight with hope. Deep down, he knew that Panama's right.

But then someone had to ruin it.

"Oh please, and how many empires have used that? That after they're through, everything will all be honky-dory!" Nicaragua scoffed, throwing her hands up in frustration. "No one's buying it anymore."

"This is different!" Panama snarled. He's getting tired of her trying to make things worse.

"The Guatemala incident begs to differ…" Belize grumbled.

"And… that time Austria, Sweden and Finland killed us…" Honduras added weakly. "It was temporary, I know. But still, it was mean."

Panama cringed. Never, in his whole life, would he believe he would hate Guatemala so much as he had lately. Heh. Well there added another person to the list of individuals responsible for making a mess of everything, for throwing Panama's hopes of having a peaceful life with his friends and family right out the window. And Austria… he had to be have had a reason…

'He was the one who revealed about Panama's involvement in the first place, didn't he?' He realized dully. But for what? What would Austria, and the Order, stand to gain from Panama being thrown into the mix? Was this supposed to teach him something? Or maybe he hoped that Panama would convince the Central Americans to go home and teach the others nations some perspective. Yes. He liked that one a lot better.

Sounded a lot more like Austria too…

But he breathed deeply, refusing to lose his cool again, and he stared at Costa Rica, pleading. "Guatemala was an idiot. I happily admit that. But please, you have to believe me, Felix. You don't need to fight. If we all go home, everything will be alright…"

Panama took a step closer towards Costa Rica, managing a small smile.

"I promise."

He let his heart soar with hope when he saw Costa Rica's eyes soften, but it was promptly crushed when the latter seemed to actively fight against it – his sympathy. The cold frown returned with full force, it then morphed into anger, and then twisted back into something cold. It painfully reminded Panama too much of America.

"I don't believe you." Costa Rica whispered hoarsely.

Somehow that statement alone hurt Panama more than he could ever be able to describe.

"I know this hurts you, but that's no excuse." Costa Rica managed to coldly. "You wanted them to die. You wanted to die or worse just so we'd abandon the ones still left, which include Ukraine, Seychelles, Monaco and Moldova, all of whom have done nothing wrong throughout all this and were even nice to you.

Panama wasn't sure if he'd ever admit it, but he was hit by a pang of guilt at that. That little, itty bitty detail that he completely forgot about in the midst of all the turmoil and agonizing worry that had been haunting him, about how not every single nation here was someone who deserved what they'll get…

Ukraine was a nice, nice, woman. He always held that opinion of her, even the Order agreed, and would rather not have her killed. He admired how she finally seemed to have had enough of her brother's shit. That alone was enough for Panama's opinion of her to skyrocket. Moldova's a child, who didn't deserve to get gutted by a psychotic lover. Seychelles and Monaco, while… understandably, he supposed, wary of him, were surprisingly nice and polite to him despite his vocal neutrality and his less-than-stellar behavior. He honestly appreciated that.

Even though he cared a lot more about Costa Rica and the other Central Americans, they… they didn't deserve…

Panama had honestly forgot that, about them. He hoped it wasn't noticeable as he felt, but it was too late. It must've been really obvious that it hadn't occurred to him, because Costa Rica's face contored into something frightening – rage.

"Did you… seriously forget that?" Costa Rica slowly rolled out that disbelieving question. "Is that how little they mean to you?"

No. No, that's not true at all. They didn't mean little to him, and they sure as hell didn't mean little to the Order. Those who were perceived as useless or just didn't deserve to live would be swiftly thrown away to the trash.

"No… That's not true!" Panama exclaimed.

"Then what the hell?!"

"They… None of them would've died." Panama hated how small his voice sounded, how he couldn't even bring himself to look at Costa Rica. "None of them are meant to die. Seychelles might get… for making Africans angry, but she wouldn't die…"

Costa Rica didn't look convinced, more important, he's still angry…! "Do you really know that for sure? For that matter, how do you know they won't get hurt? You just said that Seychelles will be tortured if she gets taken away."

"I… I… that's…" Panama swallowed nervously under Costa Rica's furious gaze.

He couldn't think of anything. What he's supposed to say? That that's what they get for opposing the Order when they would've been completely safe doing nothing? It's true, but it'd only make Costa Rica even angrier!

"You… lied to us." Costa Rica whispered.

"I had no choice. It's all for the greater good." Panama mindlessly recited the words he told himself countless times when the guilt would become too much…

Meanwhile, the girls didn't seem too eager to interrupt or put a stop to their argument anymore. They all watched the tense exchange with concern and nervousness, with even Nicaragua looking anxious. Belize was doing her best not to look unnerved, and wasn't doing a bad job. Honduras watched them go back and forth with worried eyes, hands wringing together.

"Maybe… Maybe we wouldn't be so eager to fight against the Order if they weren't all made up of nations who tricked us, are more than willing to kill nations who get in their way, brutally murdered España" Costa Rica listed off with his voice increasingly in volume with each fact until he was yelling. "And no, I don't care that you think he deserved it. And these people – they want to have all of us under their thumb! You expect us to go along with that and this 'new world' crap after all that?!"

Panama opened his mouth to retort, but no sounds came out. But even he had to grudgingly admit that, yes, from that point of view, it would be ridiculous to just bow down to the Order after all those things. But they don't understand. The Order– they–

"I don't hate you, Emanuel. You're my friend, my brother, I…" Costa Rica winced, never finishing those words, before composing himself. "But this hurts me too, you know. This isn't easy for any of us. And I hope this… can help you think about everything."

Costa Rica turned his back to Panama before the latter could even have time to respond. The message was clear. This conversation was over.

"I'll be outside. I need fresh air." He said flatly in a voice loud enough for everyone.

And so he left, leaving Panama rooted in his spot and an uncomfortable silence behind, with him staring blankly at where Costa Rica then vanished from view.

Panama tried not to cry there.

"Well…" Belize spoke up, grimacing. "That was… kind of unexpected."

/ / / / /

Before and after drying her tears, Monaco had wondered if Seychelles was doing all right.

She had half a mind to visit Canada as well and see how he was doing after his not-so-mature grieving rant from earlier today, but no matter how she tried and how she tried to think that France would likely disapprove, Monaco didn't find herself motivated enough to do so.

She was grieving too, you know. She had cried, she had screamed, her eyes stung and became flurry from the countless tears she shed. Why oh why did you have to leave us? France was gone and their chances of getting him back like they did with Mauritius were small to nonexistent. Monaco needed time. They all did.

And Canada clearly showed that he wasn't in an agreeable mood at the moment. She understood his pain, they're all in pain, but it didn't excuse anything. Call her petty, call her stupidly vengeful, but Monaco hadn't quite forgiven him for the horrible way she spoke to Seychelles and. And it'll stay that way until she saw that he was remorseful and apologize. Besides, the last thing Monaco needed at the moment was for Canada to lash out at her for no good reason.

So… What about her? So, what did she feel? Well, she was devastated, for lack of a better word. She was angry. She was sad. She was terrified for her brother's safety. The weight of all these emotions, the grief, was devastating. Monaco hadn't recalled a time where she cried this much since she found out that her brother had lost and been taken away by the Nazis

But he wasn't gone yet, an optimistic voice whispered in her head.

Yet.

None of them knew how long they're planning on keeping France alive. They could probably kill him whenever they wanted. And there's no telling whether they'll miraculous find out his location and be able to save him like they did with Mauritius.

France left, leaving behind his heartbroken little sisters and brother, another broken little brother and… Haiti's diary.

She dully inspected the centuries-old book in her hands for the umpteenth time with puffy eyes from having sobbed and wept for the past couple hours.

Monaco wasn't sure how she became the unspoken de facto guardian of the mysterious item, it just happened. No one gave her the task, but no one requested to be the one to safeguard it either. Not that she blamed them. Everything about this diary just positively screamed 'trouble', basically. There's even a noticeable page filled with what appeared to be African talismans where a note explicitly instructed the reader to not remove any of them or else.

So… yes. She's now the new guardian, or keeper. Monaco wasn't sure what the correct terminology was. It was odd. Seychelles was the one who was able to decipher it and knew a lot more Haitian Creole than Monaco did, one might expect that she would be the one holding on to it…

Then again, she wasn't sure if she felt comfortable having Seychelles handle such a potentially dangerous thing just as Monaco herself felt uneasy that she herself was holding on to it. France was originally the one who kept it with him, as he didn't want them anywhere near the item. He had only left it with her and Seychelles so they could try decrypting other entries, albeit reluctantly and with very clear instructions to not remove the talismans and to leave it the moment something seemed wrong.

France promised that he'd take it again as soon as he returned. But now that he's gone…

Monaco's hands tightened around the cover of the thing, and she actually ignored how despite its old age, it didn't show any signs of falling apart over her grieving grip. Why did France have to break his promise? Why did he have to leave it all to them? Why did he leave this behind as his only memento?

She needed to discuss with Germany about what they should do with this item. Monaco had already requested Japan, who appeared to have become the vice-leader (again, understandable and Monaco was quite okay with it) and had been going around checking on everyone, to inform their incapacitated de facto leader that she would like to speak with him as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, it appeared it would have to wait until tomorrow when they didn't have so many beds occupied with the dead and wounded. However, Monaco was neither disappointed nor did she object to it. She too, needed some time to… recover.

…But on the other hand, she was also worried about Seychelles. Her sister's mental health was starting to worry her, so she set out to find her, something she admittedly should've done much earlier. She went door to door, asked around… and came up with nothing.

No one appeared to have seen Seychelles in a while.

There's only one possible explanation. Monaco didn't hesitate in swiftly walking over to the room she heard was the one they kept Mauritius in.

Not bothering to knock, Monaco opened the door and strolled into the room, surprising its two occupants.

"A-ha. I was wondering where you've been, you young whippersnapper." Monaco declared flatly as she pointed an accusatory finger at the other girl.

Seychelles nearly jumped out of her chair in terror, yelping "L-Lucille?!"

"Lucille?" Mauritius blinked, a smile overcoming his face.

"H-How–? What are you doing here?"

Monaco snorted, though she was far from amused. "I'd ask you the same thing, Michelle."

Mauritius, on the other hand, looked overjoyed to see her, which caused Monaco no end of guilt. "Hey, Lucille! How–"

"Ah-ah, I'll get to you in a moment," Monaco shushed him, suppressing the urge to fuss over him and hug him for the moment, and redirected her attention toward Seychelles. "You have some answering to do, young lady."

Seychelles cringed under her stern gaze, "I-I can explain, really!"

"I hope so," Monaco narrowed her eyes as she walked over to the fidgeting girl, arms crossed. "What were you thinking, Michelle? Didn't Germany tell you not to come here until they checked Mauritius?"

Monaco couldn't quite blame her for not being able to hold back the urge to visit him. She herself felt very tempted to check up on him, even in the middle of her crying. But it wasn't wise to visit him right now. They didn't need another nasty surprise. She didn't want Seychelles hurt, or for Mauritius to possibly traumatize himself hurting her in a fit.

"He did, but I couldn't just leave him all alone," Seychelles's voice was low, almost a whisper, with her head bowed.

"And I didn't know that she wasn't supposed to be here," Mauritius grumbled unhappily while Seychelles shifted guiltily next to him. "I tried to convince her to leave, but…"

Monaco raised an eyebrow. "But?"

"I wanted to see him!" Seychelles unexpectedly exclaimed, suddenly regaining her courage even though she blushed immediately after. "He's been through a lot, Lucille! I didn't him to wake all alone here. And I-I also brought him some food, since I wasn't sure if they fed him and I was worried– and nothing's happened!"

Seychelles then trailed off into a series of half-coherent stammers and attempts to assure Monaco that everything was fine and Mauritius hadn't shown any sign of wanting to hurt her, with noticeably shaky agreement from the young man himself, but Monaco couldn't stand to hear it. She didn't want to see Seychelles like this, scared and nervous

"Alright, calm down, Michelle," Monaco raised a calming hand while using the other to push up her glasses. "I'm not angry. I'm really not. I'm just worried about you two."

"Michelle, I understand how you feel. I really do, but what you did was seriously irresponsible, not to mention risky." Monaco started scolding her, albeit not too harshly. "You should've let someone else deliver him the food, or at least have left already. We can't know things are alright for sure. So, please. Don't ever do this again."

"That's what I told her, actually" Mauritius mumbled, and Seychelles shot him an upset look.

"I'm sorry, but we're going to leave. Now." Monaco said firmly.

Seychelles flinched as if struck. "But–"

Monaco was about to tell her that no buts, but Mauritius sort of beat her to it. The man shifted, "Non. She's right, Michelle. You need to go."

Gasping, Seychelles gaped at him, betrayed. "But… Kelvin…"

"I told you, Michelle, I have no idea what's happened to me." Mauritius stared at her, his pain clear on his face. "I don't know if I'll suddenly snap and – and hurt you, Michelle. We've been over this. I just don't know. I appreciate you coming to visit me, I really do, but this needs to end now. It's for your own good."

Seychelles looked ready to protest, but a look from Mauritius made her close her mouth and stared down at her shoes.

Monaco never thought it would be possible to feel this rotten. This was the responsible, right thing to do. This way, no one will be hurt. But she still felt like she was the bad guy in this situation… even though there's actually no bad guy here. She looked back and forth between them, first at Seychelles's heartbroken expression and then at Mauritius's stern but pained frown, and felt herself wither.

Oh, what the heck? If nothing had happened with Mauritius yet… And besides, Monaco herself would very much like to spend a little time with him.

"Well… I suppose a few more minutes wouldn't hurt," Monaco stated reluctantly, sighing in defeat.

Seychelles perked up immediately, so did Mauritius. "W-Wait. Really?"

"Oui, but only a few minutes. Even if nothing's happened yet, I… well…" Monaco trailed off, biting her lip. "Mauritius's been through enough, as you say."

In a period of approximately forty seconds, Seychelles went from crestfallen to brimming with joy. "Oh, merci, Lucille. Merci!"

"H-Hey, hold on now…" Mauritius cut in, glancing at them back and forth with a worried frown. "Are you sure this is a good idea? I wasn't happy with Michelle visiting me when she wasn't supposed. I don't even– Lucille, I'm not even sure if I'm all right or not. Maybe it's better if you leave."

"Which is why we will only remain here for a minutes, Kelvin," Monaco assured him, feeling a mischievous smile on her face. "After that, we will leave. I'm sure you still need plenty of time to rest too."

"Please, Kelvin…" Seychelles begged, likely unknowingly putting on her wounded puppy face.

Mauritius still didn't loom convinced, but between Seychelles's wounded puppy look and Monaco's stern gazed, he easily surrendered, groaning. "Fine. Only a few minutes, but after that, I don't want either of you seeing me until I'm sure I'm… me, okay?

"Agreed. Merci." Monaco nodded gratefully. She then straightened herself up and allowed her face to soften "Anyway, back to more important matters: How are you feeling, Kelvin?"

Please let him be all right. Monaco didn't know if her heart could take it if Mauritius was going mad in top of everything.

"Could be better," Mauritius admitted with a grimace, shrugging, looking none too pleased with this fact. "I feel like shit, to be honest. I feel dizzy, tired, and a little nauseous and I still can't really feel my legs…"

"But he was able to eat his food." Seychelles helpfully added, looking relieved at that fact.

"Oui. It was really tasty," Mauritius attested, grinning in delight.

"I see," Monaco said calmly, sighing in relief. That's good, so far. "And… you mentioned that you are not sure if you are… affected or not?"

She hated ruining the new light mood, but she was only addressing the elephant in the room. Still, the question was not easy to spit out. Seychelles noticeably became stiff at that question, and Mauritius's face became pained and something like terror flickered across his face for a brief moment.

"That's right," Mauritius said quietly, bowing his head, his long hair covering his face. "I… I don't know if there's something wrong with me. I… I just don't know. I wish I can tell you that I feel fine, but for all I know, that's…"

"But you're afraid that it might part of the plan, to lull you into a false sense of security?" Monaco easily deduced.

Mauritius winced, and then nodded. "O-Oui. Exactly. I don't trust my own thoughts, Lucille."

Monaco hummed as she pondered over all this information, putting her hand on her chin in thought. "You've only been there for about two days, Kelvin. That… normally shouldn't be enough to brainwash an individual, regardless of their strength of mind."

Then again, they don't know what sort of things they have in there. Who knows what advanced devices they have? Romania should know, since Monaco recalled that he was the one who personally rescued Mauritius, but the man was currently out of commission. And who's to say the Order had ways to brainwash their victims faster than what was usually thought possible? The thought terrified Monaco.

It seemed Mauritius held a similar opinion. "I-I know. But I feel… uneasy, you know? They did something. I know it. I-I mean, I think they did. I… I…"

"Calm down, Kelvin," Monaco told him softly while Seychelles held her panicking neighbor's hand in concern. "You don't need to strain yourself to remember. I'm sure we'll get all the answers soon."

At least, Monaco hoped so.

Mauritius nodded again, shakily and quickly. "O-Okay… okay…"

"Even so, you haven't felt any urges or desires to do anything violent, have you?" Monaco asked him carefully. "You know, aside from you nearly having had punched Canada?"

She immediately took note of the way Mauritius briefly scowled at the mention of Canada. It didn't necessarily mean anything, considering how Monaco was very sure that an unaffected Mauritius would've reacted similarly and still hold a grudge, but it should still be taken into account. They should see how this progressed.

"…Non." Mauritius said curtly, before shaking his head and his face softened. "I haven't felt anything like at all."

"But do you still feel an urge to hurt Canada?" Monaco

Mauritius's face was strange blank. "No… A little, I guess. He shouldn't have talked to Michelle like that."

He was about to deny it, but then changed his mind? Monaco made sure to remember this for later.

"Indeed he shouldn't." Monaco agreed wholeheartedly. "Well, I think that's enough questions for now. There's not much the two of us can do for you, Kelvin. You've been through a lot for these past two days."

Finally smiling, Monaco walked over to the island and wrapped him in a much-deserved hug.

"L-Luce…?"

"Shh, it's fine. Everything will be fine."

Mauritius said nothing for a moment, but suddenly tensing. "I… I'm sorry. For what happened to–

"Shh," Monaco shushed him again, hugging him tighter as the tears fell from her eyes. "You don't need to apologize for anything. He'd just be happy that you're here with us now."

She'd imagine that that's what indeed keeping him content. Monaco could only hope it would be enough until if– when they find him.

Monaco could only hope…

/ / / / /

Ugh.

The first thing that Canada noticed upon waking up had been the pain hammering into the back of his head, like banging against his skull. It gave him a rude awakening as he drifted back into consciousness, groaning and sluggishly moving about.

What happened…?

For a few seconds Canada wondered if he accidentally hit himself with his hockey puck again, but no. That didn't seem right. No. He stirred on the bed; it had to be a bed, and sat up as he rubbed his eyes while trying to ignore his pounding headache. What did happened then?

But then it hit him and the memories of all that's been happening came rushing back to him. The meeting. His brother. France. And he froze, immediately tearing up once he remembered who he just lost.

Oh, that's right. France's gone. He got taken because he couldn't even keep his own promises. He got captured, and now he's…. he's…!

Ugh. How did he get here? He remembered screaming at Seychelles, demanding to know why she just had to beg everyone to rescue her friend who Egypt didn't even have bothered to bring with him, why did she have to cause France to use himself as live bait for people who didn't even appreciate him

Almost as if the universe was waiting, Canada was hit with another memory- the memory of getting hit, actually. H-Hey, wait. Did someone actually knocked him out? Like, from behind? Maple Hockey! That's ridiculous. Although the agonizing pain on the back of his head begged to fucking differ.

Canada drowsily took a look around the room he was in, frowning and couldn't help noting how familiar it looked. Hadn't he been here before? He wasn't sure… Maybe he'd have an easier time remembering it if someone didn't hit him in the head!

But something caught his attention before he could rant further, a paper on the nightstand right next to the bed he's on. Curious, Canada leaned over and snatched up the paper, where he realized that there were words written on it.

It was a note. Canada's hands gripped the paper tightly, wrinkling it, as he read through it. It explained what happened. Russia knocked him out (bastard), everyone's in England's house now (so that's why it looked familiar), blah blah blah. Yeah, he knew it's important. But he would've paid more attention; he would've cared a lot more for what it said if it weren't for something that instantly got on his nerves.

Cabana.

They didn't even spell his name right.

He crumpled up the paper in his hands and threw it away in frustration. Bastards. All of them. Why couldn't they do even one simple thing right? What's so hard about remembering his name? Why couldn't they even do that in a time like this?!

America pretended that his brother didn't exist…!

France's gone.

England went and became a fucking moron.

Everyone else looked at him with so much anger and disgust; they even let him get knocked out so that they wouldn't have to deal with him anymore. No one even bothered to stay here to wait for him to wake up. They cared so little about him that they only left a note for him with his name spelled wrong for whenever he woke up.

That's what he got for venting out his frustrations with everyone.

He's all alone now.

Collapsing on his bed again, Canada curled up in a ball and wailed.

/ / / / /

After what felt like forever with the walking and the birds circling overhead non-stop, they finally arrived at the settlement Khoisan was talking about.

It's about time too. It's starting to feel a little cool here now that it's dark.

However, some of that relief promptly evaporated when Namibia realized that there wouldn't be any air conditioning, and they'd have to rely on fire to keep themselves warm. But at this point, after such a long day, in the end, Namibia couldn't really bring herself to care.

The settlement was a village of sorts, reminiscent of the settlements of the San and Khoi people in Namibia's own country that she had seen and visited. She saw huts, some better constructed than others, but she knew better than to comment on it.

All in all, being in this place made her feel… a little nostalgic, to be honest.

The people here looked just like the ones from the other communities obviously, as in skinny and not wearing many clothes. Namibia, and probably the others, others found herself having to look away a few times. But that's not even the most interesting part. All of the peoples' eyes were on them. Some were staring at the African nations while others nodded at or greeted Khoisan, who only smiled and said something familiar but incomprehensible to Namibia's ears.

Even though all of this was familiar, Namibia hated how out of place she felt, like she was invading. She could tell the others felt the same. Botswana couldn't even hide how uncomfortable he looked.

Despite this, Khoisan didn't appear to notice and looked perfectly calm all the way. They kept walking through the village, half of them exhausted at this point, until he stopped at one of the bigger huts, his house, maybe. He turned around to face them.

"Welcome to my home." Khoisan said with a warm smile. "I apologize that it took this long and with some trouble to final get here, but here we are."

The five wandering Africans all heaved a collective sigh of relief.

"Finally," Zimbabwe groaned, looking close to fainting from exhaustion. Namibia had no idea why though. They've all been taking turns carrying him.

"I can't believe this is where you've been at all this time." Angola said in disbelief, wiping the sweat off her brow. "How did we not find you?"

"Chris goes to a lot of lengths to keep me hidden," Khoisan said cryptically.

Namibia couldn't still believe that, along with all the others things she found out about that bastard. How could he hide this from them? How could he do any of this and laugh at their faces? How could he send the impundulu to kill them? She swore, the next time she saw him...

And speaking of the impundulu...

"Are the impundulu still following us?" Angola asked, warily looking up at the sky.

"Can they still even see us from up there? It's dark." Mozambique remarked skeptically.

Namibia wondered the same and since she'd very much liked to know if they're still going to be stalked by mythical birds, decided to ask Khoisan about it... who all of a sudden stopped walking and was staring to the side, looking displeased.

"What's wrong, Khoisan?" Botswana asked.

Khoisan's face creased into a scowl, and he nodded in a certain direction. Naturally, they all directed their gazes to where he gestured. And it's safe to say that it wasn't anything that they were expecting. Namibia herself was half-expecting and anxious that South Africa finally showed up, but what she saw was definitely not him.

Three men stood together on the outskirts. And somehow, even in the darkening sky with only the fires lighting up the area, she could see them clearly. They looked tall, and seemed about Namibia and the other's age, though it was a little hard to tell. They were dressed in tribal clothing, Zulu, she recognized with surprise, and if the fires wasn't making her see things, their skin were decorated with tattoos. The one on the left, the tallest, had a buzzcut like Cameroon, the one in the middle had long white hair, and the one on the right had wavy brown hair that brushed his shoulders.

They, Namibia reluctantly dared say with flushed cheeks, looked quite handsome. All three of them were staring at Namibia and the others intently like a predator watching their prey, as if they were waiting for them to do something that'll warrant their response.

It was unnerving. In fact, their presence radiated fear for an unknown reason. It made Namibia feel a little queasy and take an uneasy step back.

"Wh-Who are they?" Botswana asked shakily. Namibia had a feeling they all knew the answer to that question.

"They look so pretty…" Mozambique commented distractedly. Namibia silently agreed. Even Angola looked flustered.

Khoisan made a sound of distaste and glared at the figures.

"Those three…" He started slowly, pointing a bony finger at them. "…are the impundulu."

The reaction was instantaneous. All five of them had their jaws dropped.

"What?!" Namibia practically shrieked in shock.

"They're the impundulu?!" Botswana exclaimed in a similar tone.

"You can't be serious." Angola said exasperatedly, scoffing, and gestured towards the figures in question. "Those three men right there are the impundulu? But how and– and why do they suddenly look human?!"

She snapped her head in direction of the three figures to look at them again, and she was startled to find that the three of them appeared to be smirking at them. Namibia had a feeling that they could hear every word they were saying, even from afar. The thought made her glare at the birds-turned-men.

"Trust me, they are," Khoisan promised and eyed them in what almost seemed like disappointment. "Don't you most of you have Zulu or Xhosa people living in your lands? And Chris had to have told you about it at least once.

Namibia knit her eyebrows, trying to remember. "I… Damn it. That actually does sound kind of familiar."

"Same with me." Mozambique piped up. The same couldn't really be said with Angola.

"Now that you mention it, I do remember hearing some stories when I was a child…" Botswana trailed off as his eyes widened is apparent realization. "Wait. I got–"

"Oh yeah, I remember!" Zimbabwe piped up before Botswana could get another word in, his eyes glinting again. "They say that the impundulu can disguise themselves as handsome young men to seduce girls."

"Correct," Khoisan nodded gravely. "They have the ability to transform into men. But in this case, they are likely doing it as a show of intimidation and to better keep an eye on us."

Namibia scoffed. "That makes sense…"

South Africa would try to keep them scared and anxious, as if this whole situation, the sudden attack by the birds which they narrowly escaped from, and said birds stalking them high in the sky wasn't enough. Unbeliveable.

"You said they won't hurt us, right?" Angola asked the old man, eyes darting back and forth from the men to Khoisan. Namibia could see her hand slowly going towards the knife she kept hidden in her pocket.

Namibia wondered what good a knife would do against monsters said to be, and she just remembered after she was struck with memories of Chris's excited ramblings (causing even more anger and hurt to bubble up to the surface), impervious to stabbing. But it's the thought that counted, she supposed.

"Oh, I'm sure they would like for one of you to do something to warrant them to cause you extreme harm," Khoisan answered still with the same distaste. "But I strongly do not recommend it."

"I don't think we'd even consider it," Mozambique noted dryly.

"Why would we even consider it?" Zimbabwe gawked.

"I am just warning you." Khoisan said calmly but gravely. "Whatever you do, don't go anywhere near those monsters. Do not let those pretty faces fool you, girls. They exist only to serve their master and satiate their thirst for blood and pain."

Angola flushed as if offended, and so did the other girls. "I wasn´t–"

Khoisan smiled in wry amusement. "Heh. Don't take it the wrong way. I told you, I'm just advising you. They are infamous for their charm, after all."

"They are really cute…" Mozambique muttered, shifting in slight discomfort.

Namibia wrinkled her nose disgust and once again glanced at the three creatures in the distance, eyes narrowing. Yeah. She doubted that she'd go anywhere near those monsters that South Africa summoned, much less if they beckoned her to come forward. They're handsome, yes, very much so. But she'll be damned if she fell for any vampire bird's charms. God, these things tried to kill them.

South Africa would probably find that hilarious, wouldn't he? He's probably betting that she'd do something so stupid.

Ugh. She couldn't take this anymore.

"Can we go in, now? I don't think I can stand them having them stare at us any longer." Namibia asked in what she hoped wasn't a rude tone.

"Yes, let's." Khoisan readily agreed and started slowly walking to his hut. "I think you all deserve to rest. Sleep and we'll speak more on everything tomorrow."

No one objected to that idea at all and everyone muttered how much they liked that idea. And one by one they went inside the hut.

But before entering herself, Namibia threw one last glance behind her at the three men. All of them still wore stupid smirks on their faces and were now staring at her specifically. You know, since she's the only one left outside. And if she didn't know any better, she'd say there's something predatory about their smirks and the way they

Trying to ignore the shiver that just went down her spine, Namibia glared at them and turned around and went inside the hut.

/ / / / /

The next day…

He'd stopped coughing up any blood. His headache's gone for the most part, but enough remained to be considered a semi-nuisance. He had endured worse though. And his limbs didn't hurt like hell when he moved them anymore, now they only hurt with an amount of pain that Germany could easily tolerate without much of a problem.

In fact, he felt so well, that he had managed to sit up without any issue and get off the bed, though Japan insisted that he be careful. Either way, he felt better, and after a bit of convincing and promising that no, he wasn't being stubborn, he found that he could walk too.

Germany will admit, he did smile at this. Briefly. He hated being confined to a bed, especially knowing what the other nations may be up to. It's clear things would fall apart without him around.

Japan was not the only one to witness this. Italy, of course, came bursting through the door and nearly immediately tackled Germany in a bear hug, crying tears of joy at seeing him better and off the bed. And of course, Germany was less than pleased but he decided to give Italy a break. He... supposed that Italy had enough troubling him, with his idiot brother and all... so he gave him a few more seconds.

Then five minutes later, he managed to successfully pry the babbling man off of him with Japan's help

Dammit. That idiot's lucky he's still too tired to throw him.

But that's hardly important now. What's important was that now that Germany had more or less healed, he could finally get back to work.

It's time to hold another meeting and discuss their next step.

The next World Meeting's in less than a couple days, maybe even tomorrow, so the sooner, the better. Japan had told him that he, Monaco, Hungary and somehow, Italy, had been cooperating in calling the nations and informing them of the meeting that will take place in... Hungary's capital, surprisingly.

Not that Germany disagreed. His capital was... probably not an option, France's house probably wasn't a good idea either, and they probably shouldn't stay in London any longer, so not a bad idea. Not a place one would easily guess.

Anyway, they needed to get to work. But first, there's something he needed to do. Something important.

"So, Lili's awake?"

"Hai, Germany-san, just around an hour ago in fact. Ukraine walked in just as she was waking up."

"How... How is she?"

Japan shifted uncomfortably "She... is rattled, needless to say. Ukraine-san told me that she was rather jumpy and anxious and... well, scared. The last thing she remembered was Switzerland shooting her, I think it left her traumatized.

Germany clenched his fists, scowling. "Dammit. How could she not be? Her fucking brother shot her. I swear, if I see Vash again, I'll..."

"U-Um, I am not objecting to that. But first, let's focus on Liechtenstein."

Germany flushed, in both anger and embarrassment."J-Ja, right. Is she...?"

Japan nodded. "Hai. She is waiting for you, in fact."

"Good. I'll go talk to her then."

Germany prayed that she'll be alright by the end of it.

Yeah, I know I said there would be more nations. I promise there'll be more debuts next time. I just wanted to get some character and subplot stuff out of the way first. And there'll be a lot more progression and development next time. I hope you liked it anyway. Please review, if you have a minute.