"...the American army—And breaking news, the Community of Latin American and Caribbean States has decided to surrender unconditionally to the entity known as Tul-La, who claims to be an ancient nation..."
The face of the woman, a picture taken by America's drone, appeared on the screen and Italy and Egypt gazed at it with great curiosity. Romano even made a gesture with his head, having to admit she was a psycho, but a good-looking one. China, on the other hand, would have given everything not to see that face again, but there it was. While the others had ordered food and drinks to continue their search, his stomach was closed; only it being empty prevented him to vomit due to the anxiety.
He shook his head at those news. "No...Nononononono...That's the last thing they should have done! There is nothing she despises more than those who don't put up a fight!" He murmured.
The door opened. It was not China's president with news, as he expected, but England and a man none of the nations knew. Both of them were carrying a good number of old books in their hands, which would explain their delay.
"England!" Veneciano exclaimed, running towards him. "We were starting to fear you were dead!"
"What the hell happened?" China also approached quickly, not looking the least happy to see them. "We have seen Tul-La in the news! That was precisely the contrary of what you were supposed to do!"
England did not reply but the prince of Sealand did.
"I'm not sure of what happened..." He said, leaving the books on the nearest surface. "Sealand broke a...I don't know what that was, some kind of clay tablet, and then he started to change, and he turned into a witch! We were lucky to escape but I shiver thinking of what that lady could do to my wife..."
"Knowing Tul-La as I do, she probably lost no time shedding blood...Did someone...?" China feared to ask.
"Oh, you bet! Some tried to stop her and got a good beating, she even killed one or two...The Vatican..."
"Vaticano?! Vaticano is dead?!" Romano exclaimed, his jaw dropping.
"Oh, no!" Veneciano covered his mouth.
"And that other lady, what's her name...? Hungary." The prince continued.
Veneciano gasped as he had been shot in the chest. "Hungary too?" He had to take a seat and there he started sobbing loudly.
"She did something strange to them...I'm not sure of what...she...took something from her chest. I thought it was the heart, but it turned out to be..."
"Still the heart." China replied, his arms crossed. "We nations look human, have a muscle that pumps blood in our system, but our real hearts are different from yours. I told you: her magic is a very dark one which feeds on life."
"We just got a call." Romano said. "The Americans are going to send their troops to rescue their nation. Russia's president has already made his army move."
It was then when England finally stopped being a shadow in the room. "No, no, no!" He exclaimed. "You must stop them! If they hurt Tul-La, Sealand will be hurt too!"
"But our friends are at her mercy! And she had no mercy at all!" Veneciano said. "Greece, Germany, France, everyone! Someone has to do something, before she kills them too!"
"Have you considered, England, that it could be too late and Sealand might be already dead?" China said.
England turned to him, took a few steps toward him, and for a moment, judging the look on his face, he almost seemed like he was going to break his spine.
"Don't say it even as a joke. Sealand has to be there!" He practically shouted in China's face. He immediately turned his back on him and grabbed all books, barely able to carry them all on his own. "There must be something in here..."
"Let us help you..." Veneciano stood up and wanted to follow him.
"No!" And with this, England closed the door with a bang.
England didn't care what the others thought, if he had failed or was being rude. He didn't care about anything except...Inside of the room, he started studying his books. Books he had compiled through the centuries, from all around the world, about all kinds of magic. Books he had bought, stolen, dictated from wise men and women, received as a gift. The knowledge of thousands of generations, of different cultures and continents. Words long forgotten which could do wonders to the one who believed in powers beyond what eyes could see.
However, all that knowledge seemed useless to him. He turned pages frenetically to end up throwing book after book in frustration. So many curses and tricks, but still so little solutions! The closest he got to his problem was a spell which ensured life after death, taking over the body of the chosen host, which implied the destruction and replacement of their mind—but no! Sealand had to be alive! There had to be some way!
He slammed the book against the wall, groaning.
Egypt came in almost at the same time.
"England..."
"Not now."
"The guys and I have been talking and we think you've had a hard day. You should try to get some sleep."
England grumbled something about others having a harder day than him and proceeded to ignore him. Egypt stepped forward despite that attitude.
"Let us help you, at least."
"I said no! Don't you fucking understand English?!" England turned to him, his face red.
Egypt remained calm. "You're not going to bring Sealand back alone and you know it."
England paused for a second, almost seeming to breathe at last.
"You did all you could." Egypt added. There was no sympathy in his blank expression, but his eyes hinted maybe...some kind of understanding. That was what encouraged England to become quieter, sincerer.
"...No, I didn't. I could have done so much more..."
He let himself drop, sat with his back against the wall.
"This is my fault...This happened because I pushed Sealand away from me. I've been doing it for a long time."
"This is not about whose fault it is, but finding a way to send that witch back to hell before she destroys us all and hurts our people."
"If I had paid attention to him, just a little...That tablet would have been kept inside of a display case in my Museum for tourists and locals to ignore..."
"Come on now, where is the England who colonized me and half of the world?"
England sighed through his nose.
"Egypt..."
"Hm?"
"...Was I that terrible back in my empire days?"
"And worse, but that's not important right now. Tul-La is way worse than all tyrants history has ever seen. All of us have been greedy at some point, took what was not ours and used all means to get it, even murder, but she...I can understand why my mother and the other big empires of the past took her down. She only wants to dominate. She loves the feeling of crushing someone smaller and weaker. There is no more point in her actions. Follow my advice: go to sleep, clear your mind. You'll get more and better ideas in the morning."
Egypt then gave England the privacy he guessed he needed. After some time, England closed his eyes, not even noticing he did.
He found himself back to 1968.
"Therefore, understanding that the Principality of Sealand is three miles away from British territorial limits, this court recognizes said Principality as independent from Great Britain and dismisses the case against Michael Bates."
England had mixed feelings about the sentence. It meant on one hand that the new nation was not his problem, but he knew he was going to be trouble at some point. No colony or so-called brother was really independent, no matter what treaties, sentences and papers said. Ever. He tried to mask his feelings for the press chasing him like hounds as he stood up and was about to leave.
It was then when something pulled his trouser leg. He looked down to find a baby with big blue eyes and blond hair falling to the floor as soon as he turned his head, but instead of crying he started demanding his attention, spreading his arms, a pacifier in his mouth.
"Well, hello there. So you got to be legally independent. You'll have time to regret it." England chuckled and finally took the child in his arms. "Your maker dislikes me enough to create his own nation, why are you clinging to me like a baby monkey? I'm not going to sustain you. Just telling you from the start."
Of course Sealand did not understand. He wasn't even old enough not to poop himself yet. But he replied with a funny babbling, and shoved his tiny hands into his mouth. England didn't take it badly, but with a laugh.
"Bruv!"
"Yes, bruv." England said. Bates and his family were looking at them, smiling like he was. Children did not understand politics, laws, rules of behavior, anything. He was just a baby who was glad to find his big brother in a room filled with strangers. How could he act cold to that?
And he kept dreaming of those blue eyes which looked at him with adoration—then with disappointment—the boy was replaced by a man with cold eyes—and those went from blue to blood red.
He woke up panting and feeling kind of strange, as if he expected to find himself in a court room, dressed in the sixties' fashion, and with that baby in his arms.
"There's something going on out there, and I'd give an arm to know what it is..." America tried to stick his head out of the bars of his cell, squinting.
"Oh, yes, I'd also rip your arm off to know." Russia nodded, his arms crossed, his body leaning towards the door enough to show that he also had some interest.
Switzerland groaned inside of his cell, the only thing he could do, having been deprived from his voice for days. He was tired from fighting against the bars day and night, but everyone in the room knew he just needed a little rest and he would be back at it again. America had fought too; Russia, Sweden and Germany didn't. Germany couldn't read Sweden's mind, but was sure he knew as well as he did that it would be for naught, only Sealand could get them out of there. Russia, on the other hand, looked like if all he was going through was child's play, a teeny weeny small inconvenience, but if Germany had learned something about him after fighting both by his side and against him, was that he would strangle Sealand with his scarf as soon as he found himself free, and he would do it with a calm smile.
Sweden stoop up upon hearing the door open, but Sealand was not the one who showed up, but a brunette woman who seemed to have just landed from a remote century. She walked up to them and stared at each one of them like the visitor of a human zoo. After her inspection, she smiled.
"Well, well...We've got a nice selection here. Do you know why you are here?"
"The question is: who are you, lady?" America asked. "Sealand's secretary?"
"Sealand is not in charge anymore. My name is Tul-La. Some of you are quite young nations...I didn't even know there was a continent beyond the Pillars of Hercules...I will get to know you and you will get to know me."
"How about you let us out and go to Wendy's or something? A cell's not the best place to make friends, don't you think?"
"Where is Sealand?" Sweden spoke up.
"He's gone. That's all you need to know." Tul-La replied.
"You'd have better not..."
"Oh, please...Sweden, wasn't it? It's not such a big loss. I heard you bought him. All property can be replaced."
Sweden suddenly slammed the bars, trying to break out, grab her neck.
"Aren't you tired of acting moral and virtuous?" Tul-La smirked. "I can read those eyes, colder than death. You could be a big one if you unleashed your repressed potential, if you got rid of all those stupid modern ideas about social justice, respect, equality...I want people like you in my new era. Insensitive to pain. Hard as stone."
And Sweden surprised his fellow nations uttering one more phrase. "And I want Sealand back."
Tul-La sighed, bored.
"Why does everyone pretend to care for that brat? These are times of both naivety and hypocrisy...Oh, well, let me put it in other terms:" Her voice turned huskier. "Join me or you will regret it."
Sweden's nails got to graze her collarbone, leaving a mark on her pale skin.
"What a pity." Tul-La clicked her tongue. "You could have made a great paladin."
There was a flash of red light, a familiar grim glow for the prisoners, and Sweden hit the wall. The door of his cell opened on its own and Tul-La walked in, disappearing from the others' sight.
The only thing they perceived was a gasp, air leaving Sweden's lungs abruptly.
"S-Sweden?" America asked. "...Dude?"
Tul-La walked out of the cell, looking as delighted as if she had just had an spa day, touching her hair.
"Your 'dude' was not wise. But I hope you three will know better."
Germany noticed how she said three and not four, and how she looked at Russia, America and Switzerland, and not him.
She approached to Switzerland first.
"Are you still willing to fight me? I appreciate that. It might save your life."
She made a gesture with her hand and Switzerland recovered his voice, a bit croaky.
"You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to join you, skank." The Helvetian replied.
"You will, because I think I have just the offer you cannot reject."
She extended a hand towards the door and someone was forced to come in, moving as if her legs had a will of their own.
"Liechtenstein!" Switzerland's expression changed suddenly, seeing his little sister being brought into the room.
"I thought you were a coward the first time I saw you, but you have shown to have much more courage than anyone here..." Tul-La said. "Guts. That's what the world today is missing. With you in my crew..."
"Rot in hell!"
"See what a precious doll I got..." Tul-La caressed Liechtenstein's hair and cheeks much to her dismay. "So gorgeous..."
"I'm going to kill you, I swear I will..." Switzerland grunted.
"But I'm too old to play with dolls. She's pretty much useless to me..." Tul-La grabbed Liechtenstein's arm and started to squeeze and pull, making the little girl let out a howl of pain.
"STOP! WAIT!"
Tul-La smiled at his expression.
"You'd better not break your promise. Hurt her and I will tear you to pieces." Switzerland mumbled.
"Don't give me a reason to." Tul-La replied, letting Liechtenstein go and opening his cell with a gesture.
Liechtenstein ran to cry in her brother's arms as soon as he was free.
"Switz! Are you kidding me?" America exclaimed.
"No need for nasty tricks, lady." Russia said. "If you're looking for more people for your party, I'm in."
"You too?! What the hell?!"
"There's nothing bad in joining the winner's side." Russia shrugged.
"Good choice. I heard about you. They say you haven't been a good boy." Tul-La smiled, walking in circles around him, examining every inch of that tall and corpulent body.
"I can be the worst if you want." Russia smiled like a child.
"I knew you were a gigantic piece of crap...You could have used a missile or two..." America grunted.
"Now you..." Tul-La approached America, her hands behind her back.
"Yeah, no. Thanks. In this movie I want to be the one kicking your ass back to whatever hole you came from."
"Sure. The hero. But cemeteries are filled of people who played to be heroes. You are not one of them."
"Says who?"
"You are a fraud, a tall child. They say you are one of the biggest in the modern era, but I have no interest in you. Your army, technology and resources are interesting, but you...You'd be a much better jester than soldier. Yes. I will keep you for now, for my amusement. I want you to see all your territories stolen, all of your friends falling one by one..."
"I'm not shit-talking! I'll be out of here in no time and you'll see!"
"...Your people fighting for me, feeding me with their sweat and blood, your weapons serving me. I want you to look at that and realize what a pathetic hero you are. Not able to save anyone. Not even himself."
"Switzerland! Russia! Are you really going to obey this broad?!" America stared at them. Switzerland couldn't hold his stare, but Russia did, and he just shrugged with a smile.
"I can't deny it will be a fun sight...I owed you one, remember?" He chuckled.
That only left him...Germany had tried to prepare himself in vain for this moment. It was strange, the effect that woman had in those she looked at. It felt as if the Devil himself was looking at them. He tried to remain calm, but he knew what was coming. All that time he had been waiting for his hour to come.
"As for you, spawn of Germania..."
Sealand was the only thing which kept Germany alive. Now that he was not around anymore...
"I wish I had had the chance to be there to watch your grandfather turn into dust. To destroy him with my own hands. But I can destroy his legacy, which is the same. Join him in oblivion."
Switzerland was about to break his promise to help him, he was only stopped by Liechtenstein, who held him back in tears, begged him not to risk himself. America screamed his name, fought against the bars, shouted all of his nastiest vocabulary to Tul-La. Russia remained seemingly impassible seeing how she approached him and took his life, not quickly like the others, but slowly, taking delight in making him feel pain, ripping his skin, having his blood in her hands. After all, looking at Germany felt like looking at Germania.