Thanks to AquaEclipse, vexey1999, HelloThereHowAreYou, emerynoelle26, and . for reviewing. Now, on with the show!

Alright, the plane ride was shitty, the airport was even shittier, but he did it! It'd took way longer than he would've liked, but he did it!

Romano didn't need to be told where to go or ask for directions. He'd been to Honduras's house before. They're often fun visits. She's a good host, that woman. One of the most vivacious women had ever had the fortune of meeting. Although, it'd be even better if it weren't for those damn gangs ruining fucking everything. Poor Honduras, he definitely sympathized with the pain of dealing with that kind of pain in the ass. Oh, and he'd really rather not go into details about her da… difficult macaw.

…Let's just say that you shouldn't ever pet that demon. EVER.

Eh, but that's enough of him rambling or reliving his trauma, let's just get to the damn point already.

Damn it, his eyelids were getting heavy by the time he got to the front floor. His feet ached with every step from so much damn work. He had sighed loudly as he slid down against a wall until he fell on his ass, but he's too tired to give a damn. It's been a rough couple of days, though that'd be putting it too lightly. He couldn't really recall the last time he got some true shuteye ever since Spain.

He'd hate to fall asleep right outside Honduras's house, that'd just be rude and just embarrassing. But it wouldn't hurt to close his eyes for… some…

Before he knew it, he fell dead asleep.

For once, he didn't have any nightmares related to chandeliers. So, everything was great.

"Lovino~"

He was startled awake by the sound of loud footsteps and a voice he immediately recognized reached his ears. He didn't miss the unmistakable angelic voice, the kindness she carried in every word, the one person who hadn't gotten on his nerves for the past couple of days. A big smile began to form on the foul-tempered Italian's face as his eyes slowly opened and he started getting up. Finally–

"VE, LOVINO!"

"Wha-?"

Romano could almost hear a record scratching and glass shattering into a million itty bitty fucking pieces as something really heavy – and obnoxious crashed into him and sent him tumbling down with the fucker altogether.

Okay, what the hell? He struggled to process what just happened. But he'd been through this too many times that… no, no, don't go there.

…was none other than his idiot brother getting tears all over his clothes.

"You're alive! You're alive and not bleeding!" His brother kept bawling nonsensically as he hugged the stunned Romano even tighter. "Oh, I'm so happy! God really did answer my prayers!"

"Wh… Wh…"

At that moment, Romano's brain exploded.

"VENEZIANO?!" He bellowed, staring at his clingy brother in utter disbelief and rage. "Wh- How- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

And where the hell was–

"Oh, Lovino, you have no idea how I am to see you alive!" His brother exclaimed in between sobs as he kept crushing Romano, who's doing his fucking best to escape the crazy idiot so he'd be able to punch him. "You're not hurt, are you?

"No, but you'll be praying for an ambulance if you don't get off me, idiota!"

"B-But I was–"

"NOW!"

The reaction was instantaneous. The moron's stupid self-preservation instincts kicked in and he jumped off Romano like a startled cat and huddled into a corner with his whole body trembling, fearfully muttering apologies that Romano didn't care to listen right now.

Not because Romano's too pissed off to care, no, that's only part of it. The other was that he could clearly hear loud, obnoxious mocking laughter coming from afar. Trust him, he knew when people were mocking him.

Romano scowled even more and struggled to get his sobbing brother off him before he gave in to the extremely powerful urge to kill him.

"Lovino, you're alright!" What's with th- Wait, was that who he thought he was?

Romano's suspicions were confirmed when the unmistakable grinning face of Honduras appeared in his vision, as cheerful and dazzling as always. His brain promptly short-circuited and shut down. None of this made any damn sense.

"A-Ana Sofia?" He barely choked out, and he began to wonder if this was all a bizarre dream. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. "You- But – What's going -

"Hey, check it out!" He nearly had a heart attack when yet another person entered this pain in the ass situation, and Romano's eyes went wide when he spotted Belize. "We made it in time after all. Yay, point–"

"Careful there, kid," Another guy warned, and Romano immediately felt his annoyance double. "Last time I said something like that, part of my head got splattered everywhere."

Romano turned his scowl towards the next bastard that spoke, and well what do you know? It's Romania grinning at him like the bastard he was. Tch. He kept scowling until the fact truly hit him and he did a double take.

Wait, Romania?!

"Hey, what the hell are you doing here, bastard?" Romano demanded.

"Helping these lovely ladies save your ass." Romania cheerfully answered as if it's the most obvious thing in the damn world.

"What the hell are you talking about? What shit–"

"I'm going to stop you right there, Romano," Romania stated dryly while holding up a hand. "We'd love to sit down and have a nice, long talk, but let's do it in London, okay?"

Romano, and naturally, he became even more pissed off too. His scowl darkened, "Oh no you don't, you vampire bastard! I'm not going anywhere until–

"Por favor, Lovino," Honduras's soft voice singlehandedly brought out of his rage, and Romano choked as the woman – beautiful, kind woman – took his hands in hers while smiling gently and gazing at him with pleading eyes. "I know this is difficult, but there's a good reason for all this. You'll need to trust me on this, okay?"

Even in his current mood, Romano was gaping like an idiot and completely at a loss how to react. "I – I – But Ana Sofia, you can't just…"

"Ha! You missed your chance, sucker!" Romania's fucking cackling shattered the moment and he flashed the most shit-eating smirk in history. "Everybody stay still!"

"Wait, wait, wait-"

Romano's protests died in his throat as a flash of light overtook him.

Goddamit, why was the whole world so against him?

/ / / / /

While France did his best to ignore or sleep off the remnants of the agony in all his limbs on the uncomfortable wooden floor of the dim room he was in, all his thoughts would come back to was 'at least it wasn't as bad as when they cut his stomach open and took out his liver'.

Oh, he wished he could say that it wasn't that bad, but the truth was that pain he felt was close to what he went through that day. Haiti showed no mercy, not that France ever expected him to. But after that torture session, now he had now had a much better idea how much Haiti hated him. France just giving him the answers to his questions and willing back his tears as pain flared again and again (which, mind you, wasn't easy) made the boy even angrier.

He had long forsaken his pride and he'll absolutely admit without any amount of hesitation that he was… well, a mess. He winced for the umpteenth time. A very unfabulous mess.

On the bright side of things, which he's trying to stay on, his clothes were intact. Although he supposed that wishing that they'd end up clean was just too much to ask for. Dried, unflattering bloodstains decorated his clothes, mostly from underneath the fabric.

Throughout the entire experience, Haiti never actually stained his two hands, except for when he punched France near the end. He found that his little boy preferred to remain at a respectable distance away from him while angrily playing with the doll of France, a… thing that France had also learned to be terrified of, even though it's Haiti he should fear...

As for what injuries he had… He's certain that his ribs were cracked and that his Achilles tendons were still far from fully regenerating. He didn't even want to get into the rest of his injuries, but they burned whenever he moved them a bit too much. His throat was still sore from screaming himself raw. He vaguely wondered if his other two little brothers upstairs had heard them, he wondered how pleasing it must've been FOR THEM if they did.

This time Romania, or any other kind soul for that matter, was here to heal him.

His eyelids felt heavy. Hell, he was exhausted. It's been hours but it's not nearly enough for him to recover.

"My, my, you look so pathetic, France."

France's head jerked up in surprise at the familiar voice and his eyes widened when he discovered Morocco leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest, and an utterly sadistic smirk on his face while he stared down at France with what appeared to be a mixture of triumph and glee.

"Morocco," France acknowledged with his eyes narrowing. No resentment, no fear to be found in his voice, which was odd considered how tense he felt right now. "Are you here to torture me too?"

He almost made the question sound more like a challenge, like Morocco couldn't possibly do any worse than what Haiti did, which of course couldn't be true. His little Haiti made sure to make it very clear that the pain he had put France through was nothing compared to what he and the others former colonies had planned.

Morocco hummed and tapped his chin, and his smile relaxed into something more serene. "Hmm, well, I do want to hurt you a little, but that's not the main reason I'm here."

At least that gave him some time to prepare himself. France swallowed, pushing down his fear, and mustered up his tired voice to ask, "Then why are you here?"

"Why, I have come to bring you news!" Morocco announced in loud glee as he clasped his hands together. "You'll be happy to know that you're going to be moved."

France blinked, and stared up at him in surprise. "What?"

"Are you deaf, Francis? I don't recall Haiti mentioning that he destroyed your eardrums." Morocco deadpanned with a fittingly blank yet annoyed expression that vanished as soon as it appeared for the man's usual smile to take its place. "We're done here. It's been fun, but there's no need to stay any longer now that dear Mauritius is gone and we've all recuperated."

Of course, he should've known this would happen sooner or later. Why would they keep him in here, and where France's allies have already discovered the location of the place? This news brought a new wave of fear over him.

"Where will you take me?" France asked slowly, carefully. He doubted he'll get an answer to the question, but it still unnerved him to think…

"Oh no, I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Francis." Morocco said softly, almost sounding remorseful, which betrayed his broadening smile. "All you need to know is that you will be spending plenty of time there, and that that will be the place where we will be enacting the majority of your delightful punishment."

So they will be imprisoning him, then, France realized miserably. They'll keep him somewhere under lock and key, probably a place comparable or reminiscent to Mount St. Michelle just to further mock him (he wouldn't be surprised if they did that), far more secluded where his allies are less likely to ever find him, where his little brothers will be able to punish him in peace… and where no one will ever hear him scream.

Despite knowing that it was coming eventually, pure dread still pooled into France's stomach.

France might as well have resume to being resigned to his position if not for the footsteps that reached his ears. , he gazed up and found Morocco coming closer towards him.

"Tell me, how does it feel, Francis?" Morocco's voice oozed contempt as he hissed the words and sneered down at France, now right in front of him. "How does it feel knowing you lost? How does it feel that despite your efforts, it turned out to be all for nothing and you fell into another one of our traps?"

"I doubt it's as over as you think…" France said quietly, not breaking eye contact for a second.

"Oh, your optimism is adorable, France," Morocco laughed as if what France said was nothing more than a joke. "I don't need to watch your allies to know that they're far from being a united front. If we don't destroy them, they themselves will. And they're none the wiser to the trap Switzerland set for them."

"Oui… you may be right in that respect," France admitted through no small amount of pain, both physical and emotional, but he mustered up a small tired smirk. "But we still defeated you, didn't we? If it wasn't for Switzerland, you would've truly lost."

That was a mistake. France bit his tongue and watched with dread as that perpetual smile fell from Morocco's face and the cheer all but vanished from the man, leaving a near emotionless expression staring at him coldly, as if the European were nothing but a filthy insect. It unnerved and terrified France at the same time. Who would've thought Morocco was capable of radiating such contempt?

Yes, that may have been a stupid move. Part of him regretted it already. It'd be much better if he just kept his mouth shut as he had done with Haiti (minus the screams). He had already resigned himself to his fate, as he did the moment he decided to save Algeria, so to rile up his captors seemed pointless. But his remark had obviously touched a nerve, however, and France would be lying if he didn't feel a little proud for managing to wound Morocco's pride.

Think of it as minor vengeance for what they've done to Mauritius. It was all he could do for his boy.

"Ah," Morocco finally spoke, sounding like he's obviously restraining himself. It actually chilled him. "There's that irritating bravado. I was wondering where it had gone."

France knew he's crossing a line he shouldn't cross here. He didn't feel pride. He didn't feel smug. He just wanted him to know they're not undefeatable. "I'm not wrong."

"You would've won the battle, but not the war," was Morocco's simple, biting response. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Believe me when I say we wouldn't have taken the loss lightly."

France didn't offer a response to that, he didn't even try. He just wondered how could've it all come to this.

But Morocco wasn't done with him yet.

"You should've never sacrificed yourself for Algeria, France." Morocco hissed coldly, radiating with that contempt and, strangely, disappointment. "All the nations in your group, and you chose to damn yourself for her? I know you're an idiot, but this…"

France couldn't help but frown. He knew all too well about the animosity between Morocco and Algeria, and he had already realized that it's now worse than ever, but it still felt strange to hear Morocco talk about her like that. "Oui, I suppose you wouldn't understand since you don't like her…"

"Oh, it's not that I don't like her, France," Morocco smiled brightly at him. It might've fooled France, if not for how that smile quickly became borderline feral. "I hate her."

The simmering way he spat those words made France flinch. "Why do you hate her so much?"

Why do you hate me so much? I'm not proud of what I did, but you weren't even among the ones to suffer the most from…

But France's afraid of asking that dreaded question right now. His throat was already sore from screaming when Haiti had tortured him. It's already a bit painful to talk, he didn't want to scream himself raw, or enrage Morocco just to satisfy his curiosity right now.

Morocco's smile disappeared again, but instead of emotionlessness, there's only pure rage. "Why? Are you seriously asking me why I hate her? Ha! I don't know why I expected any different…"

Morocco's seething words sent chills down France's spine. France didn't know whether to be impressed or perturbed by how easily Morocco could change moods so quickly, or at least how he felt outwardly. He had no idea if the man was that bipolar or just concealing his true emotions at this point. He supposed it was a testament to Morocco's acting skills.

"My sister is, and always was, a disappointment." Morocco went on to say coldly. "Apart from being an annoying gnat that loves standing in my way and giving me a migraine at every given opportunity, she represents nearly everything I hate about this world: A close-minded bitch, bending to the rules of that cursed book, refusing to see the flaws in her ways. She is everything I hate about Islam, that suffocating prison that I've had to put up with. How can I not hate someone as stupid as her?"

France felt incensed enough by the way Morocco talked about Algeria to try to muster up energy to speak up in her defense, but the other man never gave him a chance.

"And then there's how she's slowly killing the only person I love with all my heart in North Africa, my beloved brother…" Morocco hugged himself, sighing, with his face twisting further in anger. "Oh, I'll never forgive her for that..."

But France's attention was completely caught by the first part, and without hesitation he said, "Wait. Wait, what'd you say? What do you mean she's killing Tunisia?"

The question immediately silenced Morocco's rant, and the man stared unnervingly at France for a long time.

"Oh," Morocco's eyes widened slightly and he placed a hand over his mouth, as if he had just been caught blurting out a harmless secret. "Oh, that's right. You don't know about that…"

"Know about what, Morocco?" France asked, albeit reluctantly. He couldn't just ignore this…

"So, Algeria didn't tell you anything about me and Tunisia? Did she wanted to 'spare' him the humiliation, or did she not trust you?"

Question after question kept piling up in France's mind, and he'd by lying if he said it didn't annoy him. He frowned, "She told me that you've taken a liking to torturing him. But that's beside the point. Tell me what you mean by Algeria hurting Tunisia."

"Oh, are you sure you want to know, France?" Morocco asked with a concern so convincing that it's clearly mocking. He cocked his head to the side, features etched with 'worry'. "You might end up feeling horrible afterwards. You probably won't forgive yourself ever."

France would be lying horribly if he said that he didn't feel a spark of dread from the warning, but he swallowed his hesitation "All the more reason you should tell me, non? If there's anything troubling my little brother–

"He's my brother, not yours." Morocco snapped, practically hissing, and something frightening glinted in his eyes. "And by considering him your brother, that makes me your family too, and I won't have any of that."

That cold statement pierced France's heart, cracking it. It made him flinch. It hurt. It hurt almost as much as Haiti's needles did when he'd feel them stab deeply into his skin. He had had enough time to get used to the fact that at least five members of his family hated him, but it didn't make it any less painful to hear them look and talk to him so resentfully. These were his brothers.

Was France truly responsible for all that anger, or had Morocco been this heartless and resentful long before the European swooped in and imposed his rules on him? No, he had accepted his fault in causing all this, and he had no intention of taking that back anytime soon, no matter what people may tell him.

But there's something… just wrong about Morocco…

"I'm surprised you still consider Tunisia family after what you've done."

"Oh, he's more than family to me," Morocco stated with a loving fervor unnerved France. The crazed look in his eyes didn't help. "I love him."

France scowled. He'd rather not anger Morocco, but he couldn't stay quiet about this when he actually knew Tunisia. "You lied to him. You've hurt him. I'm not sure what you've done, but it left him scarred. I've seen him freeze up whenever someone mentioned you!"

"It's all for his sake, Francis. I don't expect you to understand…" Morocco hissed coldly, his eyes regarding France as if he were a lowly insect. "But the point is that I love him. I love him more than you or anyone ever will."

France honestly, seriously doubted that. He glared at him. "You're talking as if I don't care about him."

Morocco instantly erupted into shrill laughter.

"Really? If you know and love him so well…" Morocco began quietly as he took yet another step closer. "Then explain to me why don't seem to have the slightest idea that Tunisia's been keeping a big, dark secret from you all these years?"

What? France's eyes went wide. He felt like Cameroon threw him again. "Wh-What? A secret? I– How do you even know this?"

"Hm… well... How should I put it…?" His tone was innocent but this time it's clearly mocking. A pregnant paused followed before his lips curled up in a wicked smirk. "You see… I'm not going to tell you."

What? If France wasn't so exhausted, he would've been absolutely furious at the dismissal.

"What?! Why not?" France demanded, not even caring that he wasn't hiding how irate he was. Morocco tells him that there's something going on with Tunisia and won't bother to explain?

"No, no, you're the one misunderstanding this, France." Morocco replied softly, as if he were talking to a confused child, as he kneeled down to France's level. His smile was deceptively kind. "I didn't come to entertain you. I didn't even come here just to tell you news. I wouldn't bother spending a single minute with you if it doesn't involve you suffering in some way. And if you were paying attention, you'd realize that I said you're going to be moved…"

Maybe it was, but it took a few seconds for the horrifying realization dawn on France. He felt himself blanch. No… No, of course, how did he fail to see this sooner?

"And we obviously can't have you conscious during the trip…"

The blatant threatening undertone only further solidified France's fears and confirmed them. He knew what followed next.

"Don't worry, Francis, you'll have plenty of time to wallow in shame in your cell, as you should." Morocco promised jovially, putting his hands behind his back. "I promise I won't spare any details. Until then, I'll respect my darling brother's wish to keep his secret a secret."

France wanted to loudly protest, he wanted to have the lungs for it too, but what could he do? He didn't want to have anything sharp puncture and rip his insides. But he knew. If anything, what's killing him more was what Morocco said about Tunisia. He wanted to know more. He needed to know what's wrong with his brother, even if there's absolutely nothing he could do anymore. And he hated himself for completely playing right into Morocco's manipulations.

"I should be really getting on with it. I wouldn't want Vash to be angry at me," Morocco said absently, pouting briefly before his smile came back with a vengeance. "Fortunately, I'm still allowed to have a bit of fun with you before we leave."

Fear washed over France when Morocco revealed a dagger from his back. His gaze was glued it while Morocco flashed a deranged grin.

"Be a dear and don't hold in your screaming, will you? I'm aching for the pleasure of hearing them all around me."

/ / / / /

"So you will not give me any aid, despite the irrefutable fact that we are chasing the same goal and work in the same society?"

"I may have agreed this, but I am currently no obligation to help you, nor do I want to. It's time you learn what it's like to be so helpless."

Sweden's cold eyes bore into him. Despite having been centuries, it still made Finland shiver.

"…I see." Sweden said finally, sounding… satisfied? "So be it, I will be on my own after all."

Finland stood agape while . The words flew out of his mouth before he had time to think them. "W-Wait, you're going to give up that easily?"

"I am not my nobility. I refuse to drag you through the dirt if you do not wish it. And do not think I do not understand your pain."

"But what will you do then?"

Sweden was silent for a moment before answering. "Fight, and impede Russia's conquest to the best of my ability, as I always have. I will enjoy it."

Finland hated how calm he sounded. "Even if you might lose?"

"It cannot be helped. But know this, for I only want you to fully be aware of your decision," Sweden's eyes widened a fraction, gaining a manic glow. "This will only prolong the war and your misery with it, along with allowing Russia a better chance to succeed. Do this, and he might win and take you. And as a further consequence, he will grow more powerful and confident of his plans."

Finland swallowed, and he clenched his hands into tight fists. He knew the risks, dammit, but he couldn't forget what Sweden did. He scowled, "I stand by my decision."

"And so I'll allow it." Sweden said without a change in his monotone, and he turned his back to Finland. "I stand by my word. You will be spared from your humans' pain. If anyone attacks you, I'll step in myself."

"V-Very well…" Finland said, hating himself for stuttering.

Sweden was silent for a long moment. Finland wanted to scream at him to speak, to not leave him suffocating in curiosity and frustration. Just stop being so quiet and say what's on your mind, damn you!

"I wish had I realized I had realized what I had been doing to you sooner."

Finland flinched at the words. "W-What did you say?"

"…Goodbye, Finn." And with that farewell, Sweden began to walk away. No matter how much Finland wanted to stop him, he didn't.

The qualifications needed to be a member of the New World Order were incredibly specific, but easy enough to understand for anyone not named North Italy.

Not just anyone could become a member or be immediately accepted upon asking to join their cause. Don't mistake them for idiots. They don't put quantity over quality.

First, the most obvious were loyalty and dedication. You must put the Order and its goals above else, including yourself and the nation you represent. Everything and everyone else was second. Don't like it? Then why the hell did you even bother in the first place? And then in a similar vein, there's dedication. That had to be one of the most important. It took a special dedication to stick with their acts no matter how painful or exhausting they got, or how much you want to tear someone's skin off for making fun of you.

Just ask him, he'd lost count of the amount of times he almost snapped.

It took a special grit to be a member of the Order, a special determination and resolve to stick with it to the end. You needed the power and desire to fight against the Order's enemies no matter who they were. The willingness to sever previous ties for the Order (although in many cases, members were happy to do that) and to follow any order. You needed to accept the fact that you will commit crimes for the sake of a better world. The willpower to disconnect with those damn humans holding you back and turn the tables around by making them serve you instead of the other way around.

Some members already had most of those qualities upon being approached, which would obviously be one of the reasons they were in the first place. Others had to learn from older members, others had to earn their place and prove their strength and worth.

Finland belonged to the final category.

"Well, that's the last of the paperwork." Finland declared, admittedly unnecessarily, as he slapped the boring papers down to the desk. He sighed. God, he hated paperwork…

"We've finished a little sooner than I thought." Sweden noted monotonously, and then looked directly at Finland. "Good work, Tino."

Finland could feel himself better already as he smiled sheepishly. "Thank you, Berwald."

They fell into silence again after brief exchange, and they both went back to stacking up the paperwork and wrap things up. Finland won't lie; he'd really love to converse with Sweden longer than a minute, especially after spending hours in dull and boring silence. Well, why couldn't he strike a conversation? It's not like there's anything stopping him from–

"Tino."

Sweden's sudden call startled Finland, no matter how many years he had to get used to how blunt the tall man was. "U-Um, yes, what is it?"

"What is your opinion of Georgia thus far?" Sweden asked simply with the same monotone and unreadable expression.

Finland briefly wondered why Sweden was asking that now, but he inwardly smacked himself for the dumb question when he realized that a proper opinion of their newest member would only be formed after they see her resolve for themselves. Also, they've been kind of busy here. Work always came first; chatting could be saved for later.

"What do I think? Well..." Finland mulled over that for a moment, then spoke up again confidently. "I like her. But if you meant about her performance, then…"

"I would like to know your personal opinion of her and her performance, please." Sweden politely requested.

"Right. For my personal opinion, I'll say that I like her." Finland began to say while he observed Sweden's reaction, or rather, the lack thereof. "Aside from the part that she's nice, she's also surprisingly understanding of our ways and of the 'extremely dangerous' members. She's clearly passionate, and doesn't hesitate to speak her mind, both of which I respect."

It almost reminded Finland of…

"And as for her performance, well, she did better than I thought she would." Finland said earnestly, cracking a small smirk. "At first I had my doubts. She's kind, and she might not take our brutality too well. However, it's clear that she does have the drive needed for the job and. She even seems to be getting along well with Turkey and Iran despite everything, so that's nice."

By not holding a grudge for the secrecy, it showed the new member's eagerness to work with the New World Order and their determination to help with their goals.

"Also Alfred definitely looks really happy to have her with us, so…" Finland's mouth turned up into a fond smile. "It's nice to see him make a new friend."

Especially when it's someone who wasn't anything like North Korea.

He was surprised to see Sweden make a small smile at that. "Ja. He is happy that she joined us, and in turn that makes me happy for him. I am happy for both of them."

There it was again, that warmth that burst in him whenever Sweden agreed with his statements or showed his approval. He's aware it's an old habit, but not one Finland's willing to break anytime soon, not after what he had went through to get approval centuries ago...

But going back to the topic, yes, it's good. No wonder. America had gone through two success recruitments in a row, both of them people he's really fond of.

Finland really tried not to let Sweden's rare smile fluster him too much as his own lips formed a smile. "S-So am I, Berwald. And I'll admit, it's nice to have someone more... not psychotic join us."

Yes, yes, he's completely aware that he's not the most rational person in the Order either. But he had his limits.

"I completely agree." Sweden gave a curt nod. "It would not be very ideal for our goal of a better world if every member was like South Africa or North Korea."

"Tell me about it." Finland scoffed, though inwardly he was pleased that Sweden thought the same. Not that he was surprised, "I relate to their misanthropy, but the last thing we need is for us is for every new member we get to be willing to prolong the Apartheid for fun. I guess that's why Austria and Prussia approved of her and Ireland…"

Finland had... mixed feelings about their other new member. That damn drunk only seemed to take his new job somewhat seriously to an annoying degree, but judging from the success from their mission and a bitter Denmark's account, he knew how to be competent. Then again, America wouldn't have suggested him if he didn't believe he'd be useful."

"They are no doubt 'safe'…" Sweden mused under his breath. "I don't think they'll disappoint."

Finland grunted in agreement. "Neither do I, unless Ireland gets too drunk and accidentally blurts out the truth."

"Tino, when does anyone take what Ireland drunken ramblings seriously?"

"…Good point."

"Enough of that." Sweden said abruptly, and he stared deeply at Finland. "Tino, are you tired?"

The question took him a little aback. Finland instinctively felt self-conscious and stood up straighter. He frowned, "Just sick of paperwork. Why do you ask?"

"I've been thinking. Now that we're both done with work, and we're only a little away from an important operation," Sweden began with a clearly lighter tone that grabbed Finland's attention. His hard, pitiless eyes softened just a little. "Perhaps you would be interested in meeting for coffee in–"

"HEY!"

The doors behind them swung open and Denmark's head peeked out, wearing an infuriating grin. "Berwald, Tino, Alfred's back! That's our cue to start packing!"

…Had he ever mentioned that Denmark was his least favorite person in the Nordics?

"Ah, never mind, it appears our time here is up," Sweden decided without so much in a change in his monotone, and then robotically turned towards the door. "Let's prepare to take our leave, Tino."

Finland, on the other hand, was absolutely seething at his luck, but centuries of restraint did wonders to make it unnoticeable. "…Right away, Berwald."

/ / / / /

Ukraine had to admit that it bothered her that there's hardly anything she could do right now to be of help at the moment. She just felt like a waste of space by not doing anything. Well, it's true that it's not like she had been spending all her time standing around doing nothing, but the feeling was still there.

Frowning as these thoughts passed through her mind, Ukraine reminded herself, maybe in that exasperated little voice she'd hear in her head all too often, that instead of wallowing in self-pity she should focus on finding a fun storybook for her to read with Moldova from England's many, many bookshelves. Goodness, that loved to read. No offense, of course. Erm, but, would it hurt to suggest putting labels here and there…?

...Her back's starting to hurt from standing and spending so much time leaning forward to scan the shelves. It's only a matter of time before- Eeep! Ukraine squeaked when she heard- and felt - a crack from her back.

"O-Oww..." She rubbed the aching spot and buttoned up her blouse for the twelfth time.

Now Ukraine dearly regretted not thinking of asking anyone for help. This had felt like something she was more than capable of handling on her own, honest! She didn't expect it to be difficult. But there had to be something here Moldova would really enjoy. England was still fond of those old fairytale classics, no?

Sighing, not for the first time since she entered this room, she sucked it up and went back to book searching. And while she did, her mind drifted back to her previous thoughts from earlier.

But it couldn't be completely true that she couldn't do anything right now. If it's necessary, she could help convince some of her fellow former Soviet nations, particularly the ones in Central Asia, to attend the meeting, and not to trust Turkey or America. Like- like, um, Azerbaijan or even Kazakstan! She even made it clear, but she'll need Russia to back up her word... and vice-versa. She made it clear to her brother that he won't call them without her. They needed to hear her voice too so that they could realize how serious this was.

Except Russia's currently dealing with the mess with Bosnia- oh, the poor man - alongside Germany and Russia to prioritize the safety of their allies first, so in the end Ukraine had little on her plate.

However, there's one thing she knew she could do, and that she's more than happy to. With Romania up and gone again, Moldova's all alone again to the boy's sadness, and Ukraine had no intention of leaving him all alone in a house fraught with tension.

She had the idea of finding a fun book for Moldova when he shyly mentioned that Romania liked to read to him sometimes, and Ukraine couldn't deny that it brought back memories of when she'd tell stories to her siblings…

Well, she thought that it might be pleasant for the both of them. There's no telling how many peaceful moments they'll have later on.

Speaking of Romania, Ukraine still didn't really approve of how Germany made him get back to work so soon after reviving, even worse was how Romania happily volunteered to teleport over five thousand miles over to Central America like it was nothing. Ukraine thought that farther one teleported, the more energy it drained out of them. She admired how he's willing to help everyone, and Ukraine was worried about Romano too, that wasn't the issue. But the way he's so nonchalant about his health… He should really learn to take better care of himself.

Ukraine sucked in air sharply then slowly exhaled, fiddling with the buttons of her blouse. Alright, alright, calm down, you. There's no need to get upset over this. Germany promised that after bringing Romano he wouldn't have Romania do anything else until he's fully recovered.

And she couldn't be angry at Romania. She knew he understood what it's like to worry about your sibling's safety. She wanted Italy to be reunited with his brother as soon as possible. She didn't want Italy to go through the same pain she had.

So, all in all, Ukraine was stuck feeling overwhelmingly concerned. However, again, she tried to put it out of her mind and wonder if she should really bring Moldova the original, less child-friendly versions of several fairy tales. Yes, he may still be a nation, but-

Her thoughts were interrupted when her phone's ringtone entered her ears, and she heard another CRACK as she suddenly straightened herself up. Oh goodness, she knew she should've put it on vibrate.

Germany suggested that everyone should keep their phones on them from now on for emergencies. Ukraine thought that was an obviously good choice. She couldn't stand the thought of someone going through pain without any way to escape, with no one to hear their cries for help…

Getting over the surprise, Ukraine took out her phone and frowned when she didn't recognize the number.

This sparked some worry. Was it a wrong number? Or… maybe it's the Order? The thought made her frown deepen. She wanted to ignore it. But she remembered what she heard had happened to Monaco when she had ignored a call from the New World Order. What if this was the Order too? There wasn't any time to get to someone. Should she…?

Ukraine bit her lip and reluctantly made up her mind. It'd be best for everyone if she answered. She braced herself while she brought the phone to her ear.

"H-Hello?"

"Guten tag, Katyusha. I'm glad you picked up."

The shock that struck her was almost painful. Her heart stopped, just for a tiny moment. She recognized that voice. And with shock came confusion, and then finally pure anger. No… no, no, why? This couldn't be happening. Why would he call her? How could he have the nerve to call her?

Ukraine tensed, and anger began seeping through as she snarled. "You..."

"I apologize for the suddenness of this call and the secrecy," Prussia went to say politely, and he actually sounded sorry. "But there was no other way to ensure you'd pick up and not immediately go tell my bruder about this."

Ukraine was about to do just that. She didn't know if she could keep her calm with this man. She didn't even notice that she already had failed to restrain her anger until she felt an ugly emotion in her chest and her hand gripping the phone.

"How dare you try to contact me?" Ukraine hissed. Her pent up rage over her sister's death was now spilling out. "You helped my sister get murdered, you let Switzerland toss Liechtenstein away, you and your friends lie to all of us and use us and you think you can still talk to me?"

Prussia was silent for a moment, before quiet chuckling entered Ukraine's ears. It was so different from his usual cackling that it sounded bizarre, and right now it grated on her nerves.

"This is novel. I don't think I can remember the last time you had this fire." Prussia remarked amiably, like they could still be called friends "I supposed it was expected, but even so, I'm glad to hear it."

Ukraine gripped a desk's chair to keep her simmering anger under control. She scowled, "I don't care about that. Natalia is dead, thanks to you."

She'd go back to the way she was if it could bring Belarus back. Please, she'd take her own life if it'd bring her back and finally help her be happy.

"I'm not the one who killed Belarus, Katyusha." Prussia only said somberly, disregarding all the rest.

She wasn't even surprised by the sentence.

"Don't call me that!" She snapped. Her blood was boiling and her mind racing, she's not used to feeling so angry. "That hardly makes you even better. You allowed it to happen, you helped it happen."

"True in all three cases." Prussia admitted easily, not showing a single bit of guilt. Ukraine could easily imagine him shrugging. "And please don't be so loud. Remember your warning,"

To hell with your threats, Ukraine spat in her mind. Maybe what she's doing was foolish. Maybe she wasn't in the right state of mind right now. But she didn't care about any of that at the moment. Turning on her heel, she rushed to the door. She was about to hang up on him and her free hand had grabbed the doorknob when Prussia's voice stopped her cold.

"Ah-ah.I know what you're about to do, and I highly recommend you stop yourself this instant." Gone was Prussia's calm, relaxed tone, and replaced with something much more cold and detached. It scared her. "I don't want you to suffer through any more pain."

That should've made her laugh. Maybe it would have, if Ukraine was that kind of person. But it did manage to dispel a lot of the anger clouding her mind.

Ukraine stood frozen until she did a double take. "Wh-What?

"I know every single move you're making." Prussia went on to explain, his calmness somewhat returning. "And I have the power to not only stop you, but to have your unofficial headquarters reduced to a crater. I don't want to do that to you."

Paranoia flared up within her, and Ukraine swiftly looked around the room and at the window, her heart hammering against her chest. There wasn't anything from what she could see.

"You're bluffing." Ukraine accused in a low voice. She hated the twinge of uncertainly she felt as she threw a glance around the room, as if the evidence would be there. "Anubis is guarding us. If you know what I'm doing, then you'd have to be–"

"Egypt isn't the only one to have abilities or friends in high places," Prussia cut her off sharply, many traces of his previous affability now gone. "Don't make us summon them there Ukraine. You're a person I'd much rather not see hurt. You were lucky with Baron Kriminel, but you won't be this time. Egypt is out of commission, England is… unavailable, and Romania is no doubt still recuperating and in no condition to protect many people."

Ukraine hated that every single thing he said was completely true.

"Why don't you just demolish the house and be done with it?"

"A temporary death, while good at bringing the enemy inconvenience, will do little good use in the end." Prussia answered calmly. It's truly chilling how could say that all so casually. "And I'm not looking to capture or kill anyone right now."

"What do you want with me then?" Ukraine asked tentatively, her eyes occasionally flickering toward the door.

"Talk. We only wish to talk."

Ukraine blinked in surprise. "I'm sorry, we?"

"You heard correct. But this is not the place to answer more questions," There was a steel in Prussia's tone that made it clear that he won't tolerate any badgering on her part. "So, will you make me force my hand?"

Ukraine almost wanted to dare him to try, but she wasn't stupid. She gnawed down on her lip, throwing another wary look around the room. She hated being left with no choice. She hated being strong-armed into something that's clearly going to be more than pleasant.

"Why should I do this?"

"Well, on the positive side on things, you'd get answers to questions you must have."

"This is a trap. You're forcing me to go into an obvious trap."

"We only want to talk." He's not denying it.

"What are you planning?"

"Nothing that will involve you getting hurt."

Liar. You'd probably kill me if it means getting the results you want. You don't actually care. You certainly didn't care about Belarus.

"…You're a terrible person, Prussia."

"Yet you willingly allied yourself with several. The world can't be changed with Nobel Peace Prize winners and tiring speeches about how we need to unite, Ukraine," Prussia coolly retorted back too easily. "Is that a yes then?"

Ukraine wanted so badly to say no. He wanted to scream at him, throw the phone at the wall, and go sob into a corner. She wanted to forget about all of this and see Belarus with her eyes open, smiling and alive.

But she wasn't stupid. She wasn't her brother. She won't let her emotions and anger

"Just tell me where I need to meet you." Ukraine seethed through gritted teeth.

Irritatingly, Prussia had the nerve to chuckle softly.

"Really, I'm glad you've had this change of attitude. Many nations today don't have the courage to accept the truth of things and make a change for themselves."

"I'm considering breaking my back so I won't have to deal with you." Ukraine hissed balefully. For the first time ever, the idea sounded extremely tempting.

"Please don't, that'd help no one." He sounded so concerned, but Ukraine had no idea what to believe anymore. "Alright then, this will be your route…"

With extreme reluctance, Ukraine listened with attention as Prussia dictated the path she needed to go, where exactly to meet him, and even provided a few 'tips' about what she should say in case anyone asked where she'll be going. Of course he'd know a thing or two about lying to your own friends. At one point, Ukraine broke into frustrated tears.

Even after she decided that she wouldn't put up with getting pushed around anymore, this still happened. How pathetic was she?

After Ukraine was sure that she knew where to go, Prussia hung up, and she started going on her way. Hopefully, she wouldn't run into anyone who'd-

"Miss Ukraine?"

Ukraine froze when she suddenly came face to face with possibly the nation she dreaded the most running into.

"Moldova?" Somehow, she didn't sound panicked. Any normal person probably would've, but Ukraine had been in so many dreadful unfortunately situations that it's impossible for her to break so easily.

"I thought you'd might need some help with–" Moldova was saying cheerfully before he stopped, smile vanishing. "Is something wrong? Where were you going, Miss Ukraine?"

Ukraine smiled despite it all. Moldova truly was more perceptive than he appeared.

"I'm going to take a walk, Moldova." Ukraine answered in a clipped tone, fidgeting with the buttons of her blouse. "Alone. I won't be far from the house."

Moldova frowned, which only served to increase Ukraine's guilt. "But you said that we'd be spending time together. You said we'd read England's books and…"

"I-I know. I'm sorry," Ukraine's voice cracked. Oh, she couldn't do this. "I-I think I need some fresh air. Also, my back hurts from looking at all the books so I need a short break…"

It was a cruel, cruel, ruse. To ward off suspicion and any more protests by making the person feel guilty. Ukraine hated doing such things, and so she never did them, and that's why no one would ever expect it from her. Although technically, it wasn't a lie; her back did hurt. But it hardly made it any better.

"O-Oh… I understand, Miss Ukraine." Moldova said quietly with his head low, clearly dejected, and guilt-ridden.

"Don't worry, Moldova. I won't be out for long." Ukraine gently assured him. Well, she wasn't even sure if she'll be back at all, but she couldn't stand to see him like that. "Then we'll read as many books as you want, alright?"

But Moldova shook his head, his smile reappearing. "Nu, it's okay. I know how hard you try to make me happy, Miss Ukraine. I don't want you tired because of me."

Ukraine's heart cracked inside but she kept smiling through it. It's easy when you've had years of doing it. "Thank you, Moldova. W-Well, I think should get going…"

She'd rather not have something terrible happen if she kept Prussia waiting.

"Have fun!" The little boy chirped as he turned around to walk down the hall.

Ukraine watched him go, and the word left her before she could stop them.

"U-Um, Moldova?"

The child stopped in his tracks and quickly spun around to face her. If she didn't know any better, she'd say he looked hopeful.

"If I'm not back by… about half an hour at most," Ukraine began as calmly as she could. She had no idea how long this would take, but a simple 'talk' shouldn't last. "Would you tell the others to look for me? It's not safe."

Moldova looked puzzled, and then his expression became one of concern. "Then why are you going outside?"

"I won't leave the street." Ukraine's aware of how she dodged that question. She could only hope Moldova didn't. "And Anubis is outside guarding us. But just in case, would you do this for me, please?"

She begged for him to say yes in her mind while Moldova only became more concerned.

"Okay. I promise." He said, albeit he sounded hesitant. He smiled, but it looked a little forced. "Uh, be careful, Miss Ukraine."

"I will." Ukraine nodded.

Moldova looked like he wanted to say something more, but nothing came out and he left.

Ukraine watched him disappear from view with a heavy heart, and then began walking away as well.

/ / / / /

America had felt himself relax when he had found himself in the main office of the government building in Tbilisi again, and he released a soft breath from his mouth.

He knew he'd already said it once, but he'll gladly say it again. Things were going good, and he couldn't help feel a surge of pride of that. The mission with Georgia was a complete success, with added bonus that her power's no doubt increased with the reintegration of Abkhazia and South Ossetia back into her country. Pele's up and ready for anything. The guys should be done finishing things up here…

All that's left was to go back home to where their armies were waiting for them and commence Operation Burning Sunday.

Denmark was right there when they popped up in the room, which only got a mild flinch out of the blunt cold guy. However, he genuinely smiled upon seeing them back. He politely greeted Pele and gave a respectful nod, which Pele was happy enough to return, before volunteering to fetch the others scattered throughout the building for the group conference.

Pele was standing only a few feet from him while she looked around, hands clasped properly in front. She had an impassive expression on her face, but he could tell from her eyes that she was disinterested. No discomfort, no discernible signs of fatigue, no fluctuations in the normal temperature she emitted… Perfect, America thought while smiling.

Tbilisi's climate, while fine today, wasn't like the warmth in Hawaii or the searing heat in her crater that Pele had gotten used to in her long existence. Even though they're indoors, Pele would definitely notice the difference. But it looked like she's completely unaffected by it.

America wasn't worried, however. They've had plenty of time to help her adapt to diverse climates throughout all the experiments they had performed over the years in order to prepare her for Russia and the General. Cold climates were top priority if they wanted her to win, and boy was Pele eager to conquer the winter. You see, snow or just the cold in general had a habit of weakening her. Just… try not to bring it up often. It's a bit of a sore spot.

And yeah, he made North Korea promise not to ever, EVER, bring it up in any way to her face unless he wanted America to give him a… long, refreshing talk.

As a matter of fact, Snow's one of the things Pele hated the most, like right there in the top five. Blame her old rivalry with the snow goddess for that. Let's just say she's hellbent on destroying the General for more than America's sake or a good fight.

"So, this is where we part ways for now, huh?" Ireland's relaxed voice came from next to him. The ginger-haired nation had his typical grin on.

"Yep," America smiled easily, momentarily glancing at Pele. "After here, I'm gonna go over to Alaska with Pele, go to that volcano I mentioned. It's gonna be loads of fun."

He's not the type of guy to get excited over the idea of invasion. It's just part of the job, the mission, often an unfortunate one (and one that gave him no end of migraines). But when the guy in question they're about to destroy was Russia, the bastard that put Lithuania and others of his friends through so much hell and drove America crazy for almost a century, you shouldn't be surprised that he didn't feel the slightest bit guilty over how much he's looking forward to finally tearing him apart.

Not even the 'hero' part of him gave him any remorse for those feelings, but he guessed even it wouldn't feel bad about being excitement to beat the villain. For Russia, his 'rival', to rid the world of that hypocrite's influence once and for all, he'll be going all out.

"That's nice and all, Allie, really, but what about me?" Ireland asked dryly with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not gonna be part of your invasion. So what am I gonna do now, huh?"

America let a grin form on his face. "Don't worry, Uncle P. I've got just the thing for you to do."

Ireland's eyes immediately glimmered in familiar excitement. "Oh? What'd that be, Allie?"

"I'll tell you all about it later, after the group meeting." America promised him. He wouldn't leave Ireland all bored after what he'd done for him. The European looked slightly annoyed at being left hanging, but shrugged and muttered a 'fine,' before going off to strike a conversation with Georgia.

Well, everything's coming up nicely. Wonder how North Korea's doing? He's been kinda quiet the whole day. America wanted to go talk–

"…So, soon we're going to be apart again." A voice grumbled from behind America. Speaking of the Devil… His eyes widened and he turned around to find North Korea… looking awfully depressed.

Right. He had a feeling this conversation was going to happen sooner or later.

"I like this as much as you do, Hyung," America sighed, but it wasn't at North Korea. He really didn't like it either, but it's their job. "But you need to invade via your border with Russia."

"Yes…" North Korea muttered distractedly, almost hissing with the way he emphasized the "s". "Still, I really wish I could accompany you."

"It won't be for long, you know." America reminded him with a smile. "We won't be that far away from each other. Remember the plan. We'll meet at the rendezvous point and keep going together from there."

He felt relieved when North Korea's lips twitched up into a smile. "I know. But I don't like how you'll be going alone with… her."

North Korea growled this while glaring at none other than Pele, who wasn't even facing his direction while Norway entertained her with his suggestions of going on a relaxing vacation to the realm of Muspellheim.

Oh boy, was that what this was about? "Aw, come on. I thought we've gone over this. Besides, it won't be just us. Norway will be there."

They couldn't take any chances with America going to the volcano on his own, especially since Pele will be with him. While the cloaking magic's worked perfectly well for them before when going into Russia, like Lithuania's success killing Belarus under their enemies' noses could attest to, this was different. Pele, a god, and one with her powers, wasn't such an easy person to hide.

It'd be like activating the Batman signal all over Russia. Even if she'll be in another form, the old spirit of winter will have a harder time missing her.

That's why Norway will be coming with, just in case. He'll get them in and out as quickly as possible, along with reinforcing the magic hiding them. His magic was more reliable than using a shortcut. And, you know, this way America would be able to leave without getting caught by lava or breathing in too much toxic fumes.

"How reassuring," North Korea grumbled. "I'm sure he'll be able to prevent any incidents."

America couldn't help feeling a twinge of annoyance. "Pele's gonna be in dog form for the whole trip to hide her presence."

"So? It's not like that has ever stopped gods before."

America felt heat rise up to his face and he desperately tried to hide it while giving North Korea the look. "North, come on, she's right there."

"I know." North Korea's lips curled up into a smirk that America would've found attractive if they weren't having this conversation, but it was quickly replaced by the same scowl. "But that's not the only issue I have. Not only will you be with her, you'll be there to see to behold moment our conquest of Russia officially begins."

Ah. It clicked. "So, you mean you wanted…"

"I was hoping to relish the moment at your side." North Korea said softly, wringing his hands.

"We'll make plenty of memories in the invasion, North." America assured him. God knows that Pele taking over her first volcano in Russia won't even be the most memorable part.

"I suppose you're right…" North Korea murmured in a lighter tone, leaning against America's chest, which the blonde was happy to let him to.

"We'll be together again before you even know it."

It'd probably look silly to a lot of people. It's just for a tiny while, nothing compared to the time that, like, Turkey and Bulgaria would have to spend without each other (And boy, everybody knew those two never got enough of each other). Time flies, so what's the fuss? But when you've gone through what they have, having to hide this weird relationship they have and pretend to hate each other's guts for years, it becomes hard to be away again…

"I hope so. It's a shame, really," North Korea muttered somberly, running his hand down America's chest. "I was becoming so accustomed to your warmth."

Aww… America chuckled quietly. He petted the smaller Asian's head, a little gesture that North Korea loved as much as he denied it. "Don't worry, babe. We'll have plenty of time to keep each other warm during the invasion."

Wait. Wait a minute. Did that come out wrong? Something told him it did.

Yup, it did. He sweatdropped when North Korea looked up at him, a manic smile spreading across his face. "Oh, you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that, Allie…"

North Korea trailed off into a series of creepy giggling and pressed closer to America's body... like, too close. But despite the fact that… that's not what he meant at all, America smiled anyways and ruffled his lover's hair. Well, not like he'd mind having quality with North Korea. He's glad it'd seemed to cheer him up.

Not the way America would've liked, but eh, as long as North Korea was no longer depressed.

They stayed like this until America felt North Korea, then the latter backed away. He looked distressed.

"What's wrong?" America asked, concerned.

"I… I'm sorry."

America blinked, not getting what he meant. "For what?"

"For how I acted the previous day regarding the… France issue." North Korea explained solemnly, his expression becoming more pained.

Oh, yeah… America felt a small frown form on his face. Work had been occupying his mind so much that for a while America had forgotten that he's upset at North Korea, and even the matter about France itself (well, actually, he'd been trying to forget about it since–). But now that North Korea brought it up again… But forget that, did North Korea really–

America stared at him in surprise. "You're apologizing for that?"

Not that it's so surprising. It's just that with everything happening, America hadn't thought of how he and North Korea would… talk about that. And he trusted North Korea wouldn't let it interfere with work, he's better than that. But since neither of them tried to bring it up, America had practically assumed that they were just going to forget it at this point. Which, of course, wasn't okay, but like he said, it had slipped his mind.

"Yes. I was immature. I should've trusted you knew what you were doing. And worse yet, I didn't respect your kindness." North Korea's voice was unusually low and he constantly glanced off to the side, as if he couldn't meet America's eyes. He wasn't used to apologizing or feeling guilty, and it kinda showed. But it also showed that he was trying his hardest. "You– You respect my ways – you respect the fact our morals are wildly different, but I failed to do the same for you, the man I love. I'm sorry for having been so foolish."

…Huh.

He blinked owlishly. America wouldn't say he was shocked to hear as he was touched. Their relationship wasn't perfect. In all honesty, America considered it an accomplishment that they've actually work considering how different they were, no matter how confident he was going into it.

America respected North Korea's misanthropy and cruelty, just like he respected the Africans' extreme sadism and cannibalism, Brazil's creepy understanding of the concept of parental love, and Turkey… well, being Turkey. Everybody did the same for everybody. Unlike the other nations, they actually respected each other and their differences.

But North Korea, he… Sometimes, he made things complicated in their relationship.

"Darlin'… I… Look, I wasn't even mad at you," America began to say, subconsciously rubbing the back of his head. "I mean, I wasn't happy. I was already stressed out; you didn't make things any easier for me."

"I know. I realize that now. And that's why I'm apologizing." North Korea nodded, sounding but not ashamed, and he hung his head low. "I was a fool."

"No, you're just seriously stubborn sometimes." America cracked a smirk.

North Korea's cheeks became bright red and he looked off to the side, muttering "… only sometimes…"

"But I forgive you. It's all fine, North." America stated earnestly, expression softening. "You know, as long as you get that I'm not like you, hearing you say all this is enough for me. It… It means a lot."

"Of course I understand. I didn't fall in love with you only because "I love you the way you are, even your… hero instincts. It can be cute."

Some part of America wondered if he should feel a little offended, but who the hell cares? He "And I love you just the way you are, stubbornness and genocidal hatred for humans and all."

"I won't disrespect you again." North Korea promised in a way that left little doubt that he meant it.

America smiled gently. "I'm sure you won't, babe."

"No, listen. If anything like what occurred with France happens again…" For a second or two, North Korea grimaced, but he sucked in a deep breath, he looked at America with determined eyes. "I'll trust you to do what's best, even if I don't understand it."

He stiffened slightly, . "Thanks, North.

North Korea smiled back. Not a smirk or a psychotic grin, but a normal smile.

It's the smile America loved seeing the most on him.

"I love you." America said. It felt nice to say it.

North Korea's head snapped up at him, eyes wide. He quietly, hopefully, uttered out, "Truly?"

America resisted the urge to frown at that. How could that be a question? So he took North Korea's hand and squeezed it. "Before, now and forever. You got that?"

Thankfully, this made North Korea relax. He beamed and threw himself into him. "I love you too, Alfred."

With a large smile plastered on his face, America returned the hug, gently rubbing a spot on North Korea's back. No matter what happened, they'd always find a way to make this weird thing they have work out.

Absently, he spared a glance at the others, wondering if they've been listening to the conversation and… Wait.

Uhh… Why's Ireland smiling like that and giving them a thumbs-up?

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to America, North Korea was smirking victoriously at a literally fuming volcano goddess.

Not long afterwards, Denmark came back with Iceland, Sweden and Finland in tow, Saudi Arabia and Iran following them closely. Just like how Denny did, they politely greeted their new arrival, and Pele happily extended the same courtesy. America couldn't resist a brief smile. It's neat that she looked happy to see them too.

Anyway, now they could finally leave to resume their preparations.

Their enemies won't stay idle forever, y'know.

"Okay, everybody's here. Let's get–" America stopped himself and frowned when he realized that there's two people obviously missing. "Hey, wait. Where's Turkey and Bulgaria?"

"I saw them making out in the library." Denmark answered flippantly, and then his face scrunched up uncertainly. "At least, I think it was them making out."

America's jaw dropped in shock. "They're doing what now?!"

You've gotta be kidding me…

/ / / / /

"This one goes for the five of you." Khoisan announced clearly, taking a look at each of them. "Listen good and well."

He didn't need to tell them twice. Botswana's sure that he could speak for everyone that they're dying to know what might be waiting for them in the future. No one made a sound as they all looked at Khoisan, waiting for him to give answers.

"Don't set foot on South African land ever again."

The manner the statement was said was blunt and clear, and it made more than one of them tense, Botswana included. He felt his breath briefly had hitched in his throat. H-Huh? He wasn't sure what he was expecting to hear, but Botswana didn't think that the first thing he'd hear would be something so simple. But… why?

"Is that all?" Zimbabwe asked skeptically, almost sounding unimpresed.

"Why?" Mozambique inquired curiously, voicing Botswana's question exactly. "I mean, aside from the obvious…"

"Chris has plans, plans I think shouldn't speak of, given our company and the time we have. But they're terrible" Khoisan said darkly, almost spitting the words. "I see that you might intervene, put a stop to said plans, and end up paying the price for trying."

"But why would we get involved?" Angola asked.

At first, Khoisan remained deeply silent, almost contemplative.

"It's… hard to see." Khoisan finally answered, albeit slowly and in a way that didn't sit right with Botswana. "I'd rather not risk misguiding you. But it's best you not travel here again."

"Like we'd actually want to," Zimbabwe grumbled under his breath.

"Now, Namibia, I am aware that you're now under Chris's rule again" Khoisan began to say gently, seeming apologetic as Namibia scowled at the reminder, "But try your best to avoid South Africa, both the personification and the land, after today. Understand?"

"I-I do. Not like I'd ever want to come here again, anyway," Namibia muttered in a voice that barely disguised how nervous she was, shifting in discomfort and avoiding anyone's eyes.

Botswana frowned at this. Whether she liked it or not, no matter what anyone thought, and despite the surprisingly generous amount of freedom they've gave her, she's Chris's territory again. That's undeniable. And to Botswana, it didn't take much to realize how much this fact truly terrified Namibia.

"Weren't you the one who came up with the idea to go to Chris's house in the first place?" Zimbabwe muttered grumpily. Namibia shot him a glare.

"Now, now, let's not start bickering." Khoisan lightly chided with a small smile. He seemed relieved, but it didn't last long when he became solemn again. "Now, I think it would be best we begin with you Botswana."

Botswana subconsciously straightened up. He began to wonder just what could be in store for him when he saw the look in Khoisan's eyes.

"You need to be very careful in these days, Botswana. It might very well save your soul." Khoisan advised gravely.

Botswana's blood froze at the statement and having everyone's attention on him. "Wh- Why? What's going to happen to me?"

Khoisan's frown deepened; almost looking a bit frustrated, which didn't help with Botswana's nerves at all, and he shook his head.

"It's unclear, but there are several possibilities." Khoisan's tone was nothing but grim. "Most of them are… not good. You would do well avoiding Chris as best as you can."

"But why? Is- Is he planning something? What would he want with me?" Botswana could only ask, trying not to let the fear in his voice show.

Botswana had really no idea why South Africa would personally want to target him, unless his neighbor just wanted it to for the apparent sadistic fun of it or something. Wait, what if there was? Did South Africa hate him for a special reason? It scared him to think, but still, he couldn't put it out his mind. He'd been wondering

He recalled the last time he saw South Africa, back in Johannesburg. Actually, they hardly exchanged a lot of words during the whole thing, maybe because Botswana did his best to avoid him at the time. But he wasn't always lucky, and he couldn't' avoid talking to him one last time before leaving the country. South Africa didn't treat him any different from Namibia, Angola or everyone else. Sure, he didn't taunt Botswana as much he did to the others, but it hardly mattered…

"That look on your face is so delicious, Sammy. Now I wonder what you'd look like while I tore out your organs."

Namibia leaned forward, face twisting into a scowl. "Is that bliksem thinking of wiping Sammy off the map or something?

"No, no, that would actually be more preferable." Khoisan replied with nothing but grimness and Botswana felt the temperature further drop. "Chris likes you better the rest. His hate for you is miniscule, and can easily be mended or overlooked. And he and his leaders are interested in your abilities. He might like for you to join him."

Botswana felt like someone dumped cold water on him. Horrified. "B-But I'd never–!"

He wouldn't! He wouldn't join the New World Order after what they did. He didn't want to help them or South Africa. Vaguely aware of his increasingly rapid breathing, Botswansa looked to his neighbors for their reactions. To his massive relief, he wasn't met any kind of distrust or suspicion from anyone. If anything, they looked just as shocked or disbelieving as he was.

"I know that you wouldn't." Khoisan assured him in a comforting tone, but his face was still somber. "But Chris has his ways, the same way method Brazil is planning to use to make Portugal into a copy of Tupi."

It took a couple seconds for Botswana to recall that conversation, and when he did, he paled in horror. "Y-You mean brainwashing?"

"Yes." Khoisan confirmed with distaste.

Botswana was momentarily distracted when Namibia exclaimed a curse. Everyone looked varying degrees of furious, but he wasn't focused on that right now. "He'd do that to me?"

"He would be more than happy to."

That answer made him speechless. So… So, if he wasn't careful, South Africa would want him to join his group by… by brainwashing? That was infinitely more horrifying than the possibility of South Africa torturing him.

Did South Africa really hate him that much?

"What can we do to stop that from happening?" Namibia asked sharply.

Khoisan appeared to ponder over this deeply. "Do not attract Chris's attention; do not give him a reason to want to do anything to Botswana. And pray that Chris won't decide that he'll need Botswana's help and would rather receive it willingly."

"So it's all down to luck?" Angolia exclaimed angrily. "We can follow your instructions, but there's still a chance that Chris would take him anyway?"

"No, not only luck. Mostly, you only need to avoid South Africa and attracting his interest." Khoisan assured him without a change in his calmness, then he looked at Botswana directly in the eye "Do you understand this, Sammy?"

Reeling the information dropped on him, Botswana could only mutely nod.

He… He wasn't sure what he's feeling. Hell, what should he be feeling right now? Scared, that's what. Yeah, he definitely felt scared alright. But what else? How exactly should someone react to learning that one of their neighbors, family, had sick plans for them.

But he could pinpoint some of the things he's feeling underneath the fear gripping his heart. He felt cold. He felt his heart thumping against his chest. He felt a new, doubled fear of South Africa, and at the same time, a renewed morbid curiosity that he couldn't get rid of no matter how he tried. The curiosity that ultimately went back to the question Botswana wanted to ask South Africa so badly: Why?

He got snapped out of his anxious thoughts by when someone touched his shoulder. He flinched, but relaxed when he saw it was only Angola.

"It's alright," Angola whispered to him. "We won't let him get you. I promise."

Something told Botswana that there wouldn't, but he liked the reassuring warmth. "Th-Thank you."

"Let's move on." Khoisan gave him a quick glance, eyes filled with sympathy. How? How was he supposed to just move on after having that dropped on him?

Botswana weakly nodded and didn't say another word. He just had to follow Khoisan's advice. Then everything will be okay… right?

"Mozambique, I highly recommend you don't try to lie to Chris or Brazil."

The nation in question looked just as confused by the odd suggestion as everyone else. "Wh-Why not? I mean, not that I wouldn't not do that, but–"

"I know you think you are a good liar, and you are, but not like South Africa." Khoisan's words were blunt, but not unkind. "You can't fool him, and he won't be amused by your attempts."

Mozambique's expression was both offended and concerned. "But- But what's brought this on? Why would I have to lie to South Africa?

"One day you will find yourself in a perilous situation where one of those two, or perhaps both, will demand answers from you, answers you have." Khoisan began to explain, sounding melancholy and almost bitter, before his expression softened slightly. "I can't say what the circumstances are, but I know this. You will try to lie to them, lead them on the wrong trail and buy time, but your ploy will fail. And you will meet a gruesome demise shortly afterwards as a result."

Botswana couldn't remember a lot of times where Mozambique seemed genuinely shaken, but this was one of them. As relaxed Mozambique could be with everything, even the discovery of South Africa's true nature got her just as scared as everything. He watched the color drain out of her face. He had to say that it unnerved him to see her like this.

"You might think by lying it'll buy time for whoever you're helping, but you'd only delay the inevitable. It will not do anyone good in the end."

"S-so… I'm supposed to rat out whoever I'm helping if I want to survive?" Mozambique scowled at the idea and she clenched her fists.

"I foresee that you will live if you do." Khoisan didn't that less grim by that. He looked at her sympathetically, "You must understand that the outcome will likely be the same no matter what you do. Do not feel ashamed when the time comes."

"I… I understand, I guess." Mozambique said quietly, hanging her head low.

Botswana wanted so badly to say something to her, comfort her in some way. But he's still shaken from what Khoisan told about his future. He wasn't sure what to say.

"U-Um, is there anything else, Khoisan?" Botswana asked anxiously, failing not to stutter. At least he could help change the topic…?

"Yes. You must know that–" Khoisan abruptly paused. He became so still that it almost didn't look like he was breathing.

"What's wrong, Khoisan?" Mozambique asked puzzledly.

Khoisan's eyes narrowed in what almost seemed like anger, but he calmed as he directed his attention to Botswana. "…Botswana, do you mind if you go outside and check if the impundulu are still anywhere in sight?"

Said nation in question stiffened at the request. Khoisan wanted him to see if they're outside the hut? Still, if there's trouble…"U-Uh, sure, no problem."

"I'll go with you." Angola stated as she started to get up.

"I-I can handle it on my own, Angola." Botswana tried to reassure her. He'd rather not risk seeing her get hurt too. "It'll just be less than a minute."

"Don't be ridiculous." Angola sent him a disapproving glare, that bossy but well-meaning one that he knew so well. "And you, you just told us that Chris might go after him, and now you want to have him risk running into those monsters?"

"But Khoisan made a deal with them, remember?" Mozambique pointed out to her, only looking slightly less concerned.

"You're talking like we can actually trust those things." Namibia admonished bitterly.

Botswana wanted to gently point out, without possibly setting her or Angola off, that if the impundulu couldn't be trusted, then why did Khoisan make a deal with them? And besides, they're all still alive, weren't they? So far they've seemed to have done nothing but stand outside menacingly. He was about to open his mouth before Khoisan spoke up again.

"I'm only asking him to step outside and take a quick look. If they are nearby, Botswana will be able to sense them, unlike the rest of you." Khoisan explained calmly, and in his sense, he didn't seem a whole lot happy about the idea either. "I don't like it either, but I need to remain here in case I'll have to teleport us all to a safe location again."

"And I'm… not sure if there's anything any of us could do against impundulu." Zimbabwe remarked skeptically, but obviously meaning well. He shrunk back when Angola gave him a reproachful look.

Botswana couldn't help but feel a little awkward in all this as he shifted, it's almost like he wasn't in the room. "I'll be fine, Angola. Honest."

Zimbabwe's right. What could they do? They're all banking on Khoisan being able to keep them safe. Botswana vaguely recalled that impundulu were pretty much invulnerable except to maybe fire, and that's… in short supply here. It scared him to admit, but they'd all probably be in hot water if it hadn't been for Khoisan's help.

And if the impundulu were out there waiting to kill them, then better him than someone else, right? The possibly honestly terrified him, but he'll do it anyway.

"I think you're worrying a bit too much, Angola," Botswana hoped that he didn't sound insensitive. He didn't like the idea either, but… "I'll go. If there's something off, I'll run back."

Angola still looked far from convinced, maybe even a little angry that he's being calm about this. And she wasn't the only one; everyone looked uneasy and very unhappy at the idea of one of them going outside, even if it's just a step or two, and risk bumping into one of the impundulu. Botswana couldn't blame them; it wasn't like he wasn't worried.

He's terrified. At this point, after being told what might happen to him, the idea of bumping into South Africa or anything related to him chilled him to the core.

"Don't step far from the hut, stay close, merely a few steps." Khoisan advised him curtly with a deep frown. "If the monsters are nowhere to be seen, go back in immediately. Don't stay to be sure, run and don't stop to look back."

He nodded at the instructions, ignoring the goosebumps on his skin. Mindful of the stares on him, Botswana gave them once last glance, assuring himself that what's most likely was that he won't get hurt and that Khoisan wouldn't be asking this of him if the old man was sure he wouldn't get hurt (hopefully, maybe), before he carefully stepped out outside the hut.

The air greeting him was pretty pleasant, but he didn't let that or the peaceful atmosphere distract him. He didn't waste any time in beginning to scan the area for the three impundulu from last night, if they were here, then he'd rather stay out of their sight, or even go back inside.

Okay, it was dark when he saw them, but he remembered what they looked like. More important, he could sense their power (and more worryingly, their unbelievable bloodlust). It shouldn't be hard to spot or detect them…

Botswana frowned. This was weird. He didn't see them anywhere. Where could they–

Before he could even finish that thought, he suddenly felt a hand clamped over his mouth. Heart nearly stopping, Botswana's eyes went wide in an alarm and instinctively a yell almost escaped his throat just as he felt like someone yanked him from the ground.

Wha– Who–?

He had no idea what happened, or why he felt like he just landed on the ground, but he could hardly think with his mind racing and the fear gripping him tightly. A force roughly pushed him down, and Botswana fell on his back with a pained grunt. Though disoriented, he was wild with panic and Botswana's head snapped up to see his attacker and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest to find the person crouching next to him.

It was a face he'd been dreading to see again.

"Hallo, Sammy." South Africa flashed a horrifying grin, bringing the tip of a knife to Botswana's throat. "Been a while, hasn't it? I sure hope you're as happy to see me as I am…"

/ / / / /

The streets were mostly empty today. Maybe their personification's mental health and broken heart had something to do it, maybe it didn't. Either way, Ukraine didn't mind. At least this way, civilians won't get caught if fighting broke out.

She walked on a normal pace, but every step felt heavy, her heart even more so. Her back didn't even hurt as much anymore. She didn't feel as if she were in a hurry, she won't give Prussia the satisfaction of fear or panic. However, she didn't bother trying to stall either. Ukraine wasn't stupid. Something told her that even if she tried to hide, or delay, somehow, he'd be able to find her.

Just in case, she grabbed an army knife she found in a drawer and hid it well on her person.

She didn't run into anyone else on the way out, partly because she went through another exit that Prussia somehow knew about. No one suspected anything. Although, that didn't mean she encounter anyone while outside.

Ukraine had taken several steps from the house when all of a sudden Anubis appeared in her view, sitting like a guard a dog just a few feet to her left. Goodness, it gave her a big scare.

Once she got over her fright, she was at a loss what to say to it. She knew it could talk. Did it suspect her? Ukraine had no idea.

The dog didn't say anything, do anything. It just sat there and stared.

Ukraine felt even more ashamed on top of unnerved just looking at him, so she resumed her walk without a word. She wondered if it was her paranoia, but she could almost feel its eyes on her back as she walked away.

Well, it probably didn't matter now.

Ukraine found Prussia in the narrow street he had told her to go. It was in between lines of houses and the like, devoid of people or anyone who'd be a problem.

To her surprise, he was wearing a gentle smile on his face, nothing like the smirks she was so used to seeing on him. It looked so odd yet so infuriating on him.

"You're here," Prussia stated, as if she wasn't aware of the fact, in the same soft tone he used earlier.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting." Ukraine remarked in a biting tone.

"Not at all, I think you felt pressured enough," Prussia didn't look at all bothered by her resentment. "I hope your back doesn't hurt from the walk here."

"I don't want to listen to your pleasantries." Ukraine hissed at him, not even hiding her venom as she glared at him. "What do you want from me? What do you want to 'talk' about?"

"It's not so much as that I want to talk to you," Prussia's smile broadened slightly as he gestured behind him. "As much as he wants, Ukraine."

As if on cue, out of an alley behind Prussia stepped out another nation into view. Ukraine nearly staggered back in shock and a hand flew to her mouth. No…

"Hello, Katyusha." Lithuania greeted with a friendly smile.

Well, I did say there'd be more plot this time. Hope you enjoyed. Please review, if you have a minute.