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Chapter 66 - Don't Stand So Close to Me
"You go and look," England said to France. He was terrified that he would die there in that bathroom. In a bathtub. With France.
"I dare not!"
"But you're supposed to be in that trio thing with Prussia and Spain."
"Bad Touch Trio."
"Yes."
"Espagne is not there and Belarus is your wife though," France pointed out.
"She's not in the trio though."
Whilst all this conversation was going on they could hear terrible screams and entreaties for mercy coming from the other room.
And then someone yelled, "Get down on the floor, this is the police."
"Thankfully, the good old police. We'll wait until the idiots are handcuffed and everyone's distracted and we run." England said. In his head he was thinking he would run, leave France and escape in that awful Porsche, sell the thing and go and live in Ireland. No-one would look for him there and it was further away than Scotland.
He shoved France out of the bathroom. "Go and see what's happening!"
The people who had shouted they were the police were not the police. "Gaston! I missed you so much!" France shouted. "Yoohoo!" He was pulled back by England back into the bathroom.
"Foolish idiot! Don't draw attention to yourself." (This might be too late as France was wearing a pink poncho and had his hair in curlers and was now wearing a pink spotted shower cap.)
Just ten minutes earlier…
Denmark, in his panic of trying to get out of the way of Belarus' axe had accidentally shoved Prussia's head into the trouser press and it was stuck, whilst America, faced with Belarus had jumped onto the window sill and was trying to hide behind the curtains. Only his feet - clad in big fluffy slippers could be seen.
Denmark was now trying to free Prussia's head, whilst the Prussian was yelling at him that he was a stupid moron. Unfortunately he was yelling in German which seemed to really irk Belarus as she approached them.
"Save yourself!" Prussia shouted at Denmark.
"I'm not leaving you, man!" Denmark stood in front of Prussia's bottom which was stuck up in the air.
Belarus' axe whizzed just below Denmark's chin and somehow managed to chop off his tie without cutting him.
"My tie!" He exclaimed.
"Why are you wearing a tie?" America asked from behind the curtains.
"Thought it might get me a better job," Denmark replied. (He currently didn't have a job. Even the shared one he had for a brief time with Prussia had been terminated - a harsh word they'd both thought.)
America, now realising that his hiding place was up (despite the fact that Belarus had not spotted his giant fluffy slippers), decided he had better be the hero, although he was scared of Belarus (everyone was scared of Belarus - apart from Poland who was scared of nobody). He jumped down from the window sill and tried to creep up behind Belarus who was busy terrorising the Dane.
"Where is Arthur?" She asked, whirling around to confront the American. "And what are you doing here?"she asked him.
"Looking for Arthur." He replied as bravely as he could. Hey, even superpowers shook didn't they?
"How did you know Arthur was here?" She replied.
"Dead king," Denmark told her from behind her. He was still trying to get Prussia out of the press.
"Yeah, Deadie told us," Prussia said from inside the trouser press.
"Anyway, we could ask you the same question, why are you here?" America asked her.
"I'm looking for Arthur, I told you that."
"Yeah she did, man," Denmark said, tugging at Pru's bottom.
The door was flung open and three large men burst in.
"Get down on the floor, this is the police!" (This was the moment that England erroneously thought was when the British police was about to rescue him.)
Denmark, moronically, said, "Wow! I used to love them. Great band."
Prussia said, "I can't get on the floor. In case anyone hasn't noticed, my head is stuck in this thing."
Belarus turned to the interlopers with her axe, "Police?" She snarled. She didn't look convinced.
"Don't you hurt my bodyguards!" Sealand squeaked, stepping back.
Three CIA men, highly-trained ex Navy Seals and hardened veterans who had seen action in Afghanistan and Iraq, against a very angry female Nation. They looked terrified.
"Glad you turned up, men!" America said. "I was about to apprehend her but I can see you're here now so I'll leave you to it." He then, with as much dignity as one wearing giant fluffy slippers (with claws) could muster, pulled Prussia's head out of the trouser press with his superpower strength (with the Prussian's body still attached) and tried to leave.
Belarus squared up to the interlopers, "What have you done with my Arthur?" She asked them.
"Put down the axe, Ma'am," of them said.
"Are you married to Jerk Dad England now?" Sealand asked, wide-eyed.
"Yes, so I'm technically your step-mum," she replied and then with dizzying speed juggled the axe and a very sharp knife.
"She's very good isn't she? I wonder if she's available for children's parties?" Denmark said, hurrying out of the room after America and Prussia.
"Thanks for saving me in there, dude," Pru said to America as they paused outside.
"S'okay, but where's Artie dude?" America said. They obviously had not heard France's shout of jubilation.
Belarus was not called the 'White Witch' or the 'Snow Queen' for nothing, as cold suddenly permeated throughout the building. An icy blast shot through the broken window and England's abandoned cup of tea froze over. These conditions were usually attributed to her big brother, but Belarus was just as efficient if not more so.
She broke into a howl (not unlike a wolf) and launched herself at the CIA agents.
England, stood in the bathtub with France, no delete that, he was clutching France in the bathtub, shivering uncontrollably partly from the cold and partly from fear.
"Ah it is just like zat time when it was 999AD when we thought it was ze end of ze world, mon cher!" France said and hugged him close. He smelt of coconut shampoo and wine, both of which were quite awful in England's eyes (and nose).
Belarus had overwhelmed one CIA man and was holding a knife to his throat whilst waving an axe at the others. "What have you done with my Arthur?" She asked again.
They looked at her warily. It had all happened so fast.
"Don't hurt Steve! I've yet to sell him life insurance!" Sealand said.
"Shut up you!" She replied.
"We have done nothing with 'your Arthur', we are looking to apprehend him ourselves," they replied.
"And you're not the police," she said.
"No they're not!" America said from the doorway. "Dudes! What happened to you? Why are you working for Peter? He's a deadbeat. He never does his homework on time."
Belarus waved her axe, "Tell me where Arthur is before I kill this 'Steve' person." She said.
"Why do you want to know?" Sealand asked. He was only there for the tiara and the reward and he was darned if he was going to let this nutty Belarussian get her hands on it.
"He left me covered in cake at a wedding reception. I arrive here, and he was about to leave in that awful car with that awful Frenchman."
"That car is my love," France whispered to England in the bathtub.
"Were you on a date?" America asked her.
She nodded.
"Yeah, I can tell. Honestly, this is how it usually ends up with his dates. They always end up taking people hostage with knives." America said confidently. "You're better off without him!"
"I heard that!" England yelled and then wished he hadn't. France put his hand (which smelled 'funny') over England's mouth. Too late.
"Arthur?" Belarus asked.
"Artie?" America asked.
"England?" Denmark said.
"Jerk Dad?" Sealand said.
"Moron." Prussia muttered.
England was about to emerge with his hands up when the real police burst into the hotel room.
"Everyone on the floor with your hands on your head!"
"Merde!" France hissed with his hand still over England's mouth. England muffled something. "I'm too pretty for prison, mon cher. I cannot allow myself to be arrested." France told him. "Leave it to clever Francais to get us out of here," he added. "I have a cunning plan."
England solved this by wrenching himself free, opening the door and flinging the tiara into the bedroom.
This seemed to cause an absolute cacophony of sound. In fact, if England wasn't mistaken it sounded like a riot in a monkey house.
It was Prussia who managed to grab the tiara first but then he dropped it. Belarus threw her axe at Denmark's head and dived for the jewel but was shoved out of the way by America.
Denmark, whose head was still attached to his body found himself with an axe balancing not a centimetre above him on the wall. He wrenched it from the wall, bringing a ton of plaster down on him and almost bringing down the whole floor above and jumped into the affray.
A policeman jumped on America's back and tried to restrain him.
"I've got it! I've got it!" America shouted as he staggered around the room with a policeman on his back and the tiara in one hand.
A CIA man (perhaps Gaston, perhaps Pascal, or even Steve) jumped on the policeman's back, shouting "I'm sorry Mr Jones Sir! I'm back on duty as your secret service detail!"
"Good man!" America puffed with two men on his back whilst he clutched the tiara.
"I'll take that off your hands," Sealand said and stepped forward to take the tiara off America's hands.
"And I'll take that," a policeman said, taking it from the boy mastermind.
"But I still get the reward?" Sealand cried.
"We bloody found it and tracked them down!" Prussia said and jumped on the policeman.
Denmark nodded. "We did!" He yelled, shaking plaster from his awesome hair and going full Viking mode.
"WAIT!" Belarus shouted.
There was a momentary pause. "It was I who found them first!" She told them.
Denmark turned to look at her. He had a CIA man in one hand and an axe in the other. He wasn't sure what he was going to do. He wasn't quite on a war footing and he didn't understand really what was going on or if the man was a good dude or a bad dude.
"We tracked them down though!" Prussia said and took advantage of the pause in the fight to snatch the jewel back from the policeman.
"You are all under arrest!" said the most senior policeman. He was still on America's back.
"Not again!" America said.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"How did you find Dumb and Dumber then?" Prussia asked Belarus. "Cos we found them first and I say finders keepers. Not that we want to keep France and England," he added quickly.
"I know I know!" America said, holding up a hand as if they were in school. The policeman on his back fell off.
"Black magic," Belarus told them.
"Alright, everyone, stand up against the wall with your hands in the air," a policeman told them.
"No," Den said.
"There's no such thing as magic," Sealand said and took the tiara from Prussia's hand whilst the Prussian stared at him in horror.
"I bet you smelled him, didn't you? He should wear better anti-perspirant and Francy-pants needs to lay off the garlic," America said with confidence. "And there is such a thing as magic cos otherwise there'd be no fairies, silly," he said to Sealand and snatched back the tiara and threw it at Denmark. "Den! Catch!"
Den had a split second decision whether to catch the tiara or drop his axe (which he'd become rather attached to) but he decided to keep hold of his axe and so the tiara sailed over his head.
At that moment whilst everyone was otherwise busy, France and England were crawling along the floor (England found a used cigarette butt and deplored the state of the country's cleaning profession). The tiara landed in front of France's nose. France's nose twitched. It was such a beautiful thing (the tiara, not France's nose) and he tried to resist. They were so near the door. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. He grabbed it and, dragging England along with him ran out of the door, flung it shut behind him and legged it down the corridor.
"I wonder which of us is dumb and which is dumber?" France whispered.
"You're obviously dumber," England whispered back.
"Was it really magic, Belarus?" Prussia asked as they were lined up against the wall and their hands cuffed behind them, the remainder of the police were running down the corridor after England and France.
"Tracker. KGB issue," she told him, facing the wall. Prussia looked disappointed.
"They're the city's problem now," America said. He liked that saying. He'd heard England say it of himself and Denmark and/or Prussia.
Denmark was still not placated. He was stood on a bed swinging his axe around and yelling something about mini-bars.
Sealand was protesting something about the fact that he had diplomatic immunity.
"Yeah wait 'til Barney and Betty Rubble hear about you," Prussia told him. "You're in big trouble."
"Barney and Betty Rubble?" Belarus looked confused.
"Sweden and Finland," Prussia explained as the Belorussian was being cuffed.
"I have better cuffs than these," she told the police officer and promptly extricated herself from them.
"Wow, what a woman," America muttered. He then said to the police, "You can't arrest my dudes because they're CIA."
Sealand meanwhile was using his diminutive stature to escape and weaving between the adults' legs to get out the way England and France had gone.
He knew where they'd gone. He wasn't stupid and he was going to get that tiara, let the others end up in prison. He certainly wasn't going to be visiting them any time soon either.
He dashed out into the car park, ran into some police and then put on his 'lost schoolboy' look. "I don't know where my mum and dad are," he told the policeman before they could possibly ask him if he was a known criminal mastermind. It worked every time and this was no exception.
"Poor kid," the policeman said. Not knowing that the child in front of him had embezzled millions of pounds from people on eBay for selling land that did not exist and was on Interpol's wanted list. "Sit in our police car, while we find out what's happening. It's not safe for you to go into the hotel. We're apprehending some criminals."
"Yes, I saw them. You really need to arrest that Danish man in particular," Sealand said. That would teach him, Sealand thought, 'Uncle Den' was always grassing on him to Finland and Sweden which meant he was often grounded.
He was now comfortably seated in a police car listening to the police radio.
The garish red Porsche 'belonging' to France was gone, Sealand noted, but he didn't tell the police this. He listened to the police radio that was still broadcasting in the car.
"Interesting," he said to himself. His CIA bodyguards had been apprehended he learned but were trying to insist on seeing the US Ambassador. America, who Sealand was secretly jealous of, having stolen his bedroom in England's house, had also been arrested and was telling the police that he had diplomatic immunity. (Sealand's bedroom in England's house had been his international headquarters with a secret room hidden in the wardrobe behind the Harry Potter poster - Sweden and Finland's obsessive cleaning had meant he couldn't have a headquarters at their home.)
Belarus was apparently demonstrating her ability to get out of handcuffs whilst Prussia and Denmark were complaining of police brutality. This made Sealand smile. He switched on 'find my iPhone' on his mobile device and smiled as Jerk Dad England's iPhone location came up. "Easy peasy," he said to himself as he got into the driver's seat and started the car. Nobody expected a schoolboy to steal a police car (he would blame some unsuspecting Nation for this crime) and drove away. He'd recently gained his Legoland driving licence so knew what he was doing.
"This is just appalling," England said again to France.
"I know zis."
"Why on earth do I listen to you?"
"Because of course I know how to get us out of zees messes, mon cher."
"You're the bloody idiot who usually gets me into these messes and stop calling me mon cher. It makes me feel dirty."
France smiled.
England was driving. He felt bloody uncomfortable. For several reasons. One being that the roof was down and after the rain the seats were wet. The poncho he was wearing with the inscription 'Gay Pride Aberdeen' did not keep him dry. The fact that France was wearing the priceless tiara. And lastly the fact that this awful foreign-made abomination of a vehicle was left hand drive. It just proved that foreigners had no idea how to build a car.
"Where are we going again?" England asked.
"To get help from a member of your Royal Family to return zis tiara," France replied.
England nodded. Finally, they agreed on something. "Ah yes, Princess Bea will help us, I'm sure."
France did not answer.
Twenty minutes later they pulled up, at France's insistence outside a nightclub auspiciously named 'Big Red Hot Mamas'. England was appalled at the lack of apostrophes in the name. "Big Red Hot Mama's what?" He asked and then without waiting for an answer he said, "This isn't Windsor Castle."
"No mon cher, it is not."
"I thought that's where we were going."
France raised an eyebrow. "You did?" He looked surprised.
"Yes to return the tiara."
"We are returning the tiara," France replied.
"Here? You don't mean to say that a member of my Royal Family is in this bloody awful place do you?" England said looking at the building and the flashing lights outside which made it look like a very cheap brothel.
"Why of course!" France said and went around the back, down a dark alleyway.
England followed, reluctantly.
They stopped at a door, painted plain black with a small hatch. France knocked on it, for the hatch to open and a single eye stared at them.
"Francis Bonnefoy to see Big Mama!" France said suggestively.
The eye looked over at England and England glared back. He deeply resented being looked over by a disembodied eye.
"He's okay. He's English," France said and blew a kiss.
The hatch slammed shut abruptly and the door opened…
To be continued...