Apologies for the wait. I hope this chapter is worth it! Please leave a review and let me know what you think!

July 11, 2043

Ituri Rainforest, Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC)

War was on the horizon. Literally and figuratively.

Ezana Tesfa, the personification of no nation, shaded his eyes against the bright, hot sun of the African rainforest as he drove through the dirt-paved road on a hoverbike, making sure that he kept the noise down to a minimum as he rode. Beside him, the Uele River carved a path through the densely packed forest, letting in the golden rays of the noonday sun, which was every now and again covered by a rogue cloud.

A small clearing opened up along the side of the road, and Ezana slowed his bike as he came across a small village of perhaps two or three dozen people. They didn't seem to be in very good shape. Some of the men held early modern rifles and spears, which were quickly pointed at him, and the women hurriedly gathered the children who had been playing outside into huts. All were very short, few being over one and a half meters tall.

"I come in peace," He announced, getting off his bike. The men looked at him suspiciously. "I am Ras Täfäri. You know of me."

A ripple went through the people, an almost inaudible gasp of surprise following. One of the younger men, just into his early twenties and taller than the rest, walked to the front of the group, placing the butt of his rifle to the ground and kneeling. The rest of the village followed. Ezana shook his head.

"You know I don't need this kind of respect from you, Dikembe," he said, raising an eyebrow amiably. The man in front chuckled, and the two embraced before parting. Dikembe Bokondj turned to the other villagers and nodded, reassuring them of the visitor's trustworthiness.

"You've been safe?" He asked as Ezana took a large bag out of its place in the back of the hoverbike. He nodded with a quick smile. Several children peeked their heads out from a straw hut.

"As the most wanted man alive can be," he chuckled, before turning to one of the other men, gesturing to his bag. "I've brought supplies."

The man's eyes brightened, and he stood. "Thank you, Ras Täfäri. We are in your debt."

"It's the least I can do for allowing my friend to stay with you."

"The war has prevented us from trading with the farmers as we usually do," the man said. "Any supplies you can give us are greater than any service we can give to you."

"Here." He opened the bag, revealing small bars of military packets, seeds to plant, and a small cooler. "I've also brought vaccines for the children: Measles, Cholera, Malaria, and HIV. Once Dikembe and I are done speaking, I'll administer the needed doses to them."

"We will tell of your services for generations." The man took the bag reverently, and passed it to one of the women. Arm in arm, they went off to the rest of the villagers. Ezana turned back to The Democratic Republic of the Congo once he was gone, steering the two of them out of sight.

"Now I must ask you, are you sure you are alright?" He asked, shooting him a knowing look. "This war is my fault, and we've always been close. I can't… I can't lose you, too."

Dikembe shook his head with a smile, and placed a hand on Ezana's shoulder. "You have nothing to fear, my friend. I'm not going anywhere yet. After all of this is over, our paths will be set in stone, and the dice will start to roll."

"And we'll just have to hope they fall in our favor," Ezana finished the saying that had become his lifeline in the past decade. His lips quirked, as if he wished to smile, but they fell before the expression could take shape.

"Something's bothering you," Dikembe observed. "Is it Alemayehu?"

Ezana shook himself, frowning deeply. "When is it not? Every time that man sees, things just get more and more difficult for us."

"The future tends to be difficult," Dikembe shrugged, resting an arm on the handlebars of the bike. "I think that's the point. We are in the midst of a revolution comparable to the Industrial Era. Things are going to get shaky. What did Alemayehu see?"

Ezana sighed, shoulders slumping. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper with scribbled Amharic writing on it.

"The Hybrid Era has had a permanent effect on the world and how it works," he recited, brown eyes flicking to meet Dikembe's. "With hybrid energy's levels rising, many countries think they can sustain their consumption rates forever. However, they are blinded by their chances to become a superpower. India, Cuba, and Sudan are the most likely to let their ambition blind them. Make sure that they will be prevented from gathering too much power. But no matter what you do, within the next fifty years, if not much sooner, hybrid energy's levels will reach its limit. And when they do, we will see a war to dwarf that of World War I, II, and III combined. This war is completely unpreventable. You can try to lessen the effects, make sure that the side you support wins, but billions will die, with many nations among them."

Ezana paused at the end of the paragraph, and Dikembe ran a hand over his face, taking in a shaky breath.

"That's… hefty," the central African sighed, paling slightly. "No wonder you wrote it down."

"That's only part of the prophecy. It gets worse."

"Well, don't keep me waiting. Tell me, and I can try to figure out a way to help you."

After a moment of hesitation, Ezana nodded and continued. "To ensure humanity's survival, you must work with four primary alliances: the New South American Order, Hybrid Energy Research Association, African Elites, and the Deep Sea Alliance. Two will fall quickly, while the other half will remain strong. One of the strong alliances is led by your brother, Ethiopia. The other will be the alliance to anticipate this war. The key to winning this war is held in ideology, and whether Order will prevail."

Ezana folded the paper closed again while Dikembe rubbed his chin, deep in thought.

"You'll have to work with your brother," he finally said. Ezana scowled, leaning against the bike. "You're going to have to face him eventually."

"Yes, and explain to him why I had to kill twenty million Africans just to bring to pass a war more devastating than we have ever seen."

"You killed twenty-five million men to prevent the fall of humanity. Ezana." Dikembe looked his friend in the eye, completely serious. "When we made this alliance, we agreed that we would bring to pass humanity's survival, no matter what the personal or humanitarian cost. Namibia and Botswana have given their lives as sacrifice. I put my country into a civil war. You started World War III and pushed humanity into the Hybrid Era. There is no backing out now."

Ezana sighed, standing fully once again.

"I don't care for the Europeans or the West," he said heavily. "They could all die for all I care. But—" His eyes flashed. "I do love Africa. We are the homeland of humanity, and we will survive as long as I have breath in my body."

"There's the Ezana I know and love," Dikembe chuckled. "Have a plan as of yet?"

"Sudan will be the easiest to push out of the running for the war. I've already sent men to infiltrate his government. Soon he'll be compelled into a war with South Sudan. Hopefully, the Elites will intervene and bring him down from that pedestal of his."

Dikembe nodded. "Sounds like a plan. Try not to kill either of them. South Sudan is only a child."

"I will do what I must."

DRC Civil War:

African Elites&DRC Rebels—Safe: Addis Ababa, Ethiopia; Mogadishu, Somalia; Djibouti; Asmara, Eritrea. In Danger: N/A Fallen: N/A

Front Lines: Lubumbashi, Kasongo, Mbanza-Ngungu, and Bandundu, DRC

DRC—Safe: Mbandaka, Kisangani, Buta. In Danger: Tshikapa, Kananga. Fallen: Kinshasa, Kamina, Kikwit, Kolwezi.

January 18, 2044

Caracas, New Order Venezuela

"I'm not sure about this, Cuba. You're risking a war here."

The 23-year-old nation very nearly scoffed, and Colombia could only assume that the reason he didn't was because he didn't want to attract the attention of their aides and security guards nearby. He was fairly relaxed and looked just as confident, contrasting Colombia's own uneasiness with their current situation. It was a meeting of the Organization of American States, currently being held in Venezuela, and Cuba and Colombia were currently on their way there to meet with the rest of the American continents.

"This is the best time to start our plan," Cuba replied after a moment, lowering his voice as they walked through the halls of the governmental building. "The Elites are at war with the DRC; the world is distracted. Don't tell me you're drawing out now. We haven't even started yet."

Colombia stopped in her steps, giving Cuba a look. The Carribean nation took a couple more steps, then finally paused with an aggravated sigh and looked to her, crossing his arms.

"I'm just saying that purposely aggravating the regional powers of the Western Hemisphere might not be the best idea," Colombia continued, making her voice lower as to avoid being overheard. "You know they'll want to know why we did what we did. When you said that we'd take away the fog, you also didn't add that we'd be vaguely hinting at having more advanced technology than them."

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing," Cuba huffed. "A strong show of action is the only way to show America and the NSAO that we mean business, and Central America that we are ready and willing to help them. Like I said, America is paralyzed and the world distracted with an actual war. No one will come to the NSAO's aide."

"The last time you were this confident about a political situation, we ended up with the Cuban Missile Crisis."

Cuba did scowl at her this time. His fists tightened. "This is a small window of time, Colombia," he shot back. "And I will do this with or without you."

Colombia said nothing, but that was a concession in and of itself. She was in this now, for better or for worse. Cuba's plan to chip away at the South American fog and disrupt NSAO-USA operations had put a small pit in her stomach since its conception, but now it had grown into a swirling whirlpool of nervousness inside of her. But as much as she disagreed with the plan for its bluntness and risk it posed, she also had to agree that they and other third-world countries stood to gain more than they ever had before from it. And that was tempting. Tempting enough that even as Colombia voiced her reservations, she knew she wasn't about to back out now.

Knowing he had won, Cuba shook his head in what was either exasperation or annoyance and turned around again, hurrying down the hallway. Colombia had to lengthen her stride to meet his (where he was 5'8, she was 5'2) to keep up with him as their bodyguards checked in with the security guards at the checkpoint ahead of them. After being scanned for suspicious weaponry by an electron scanner, they were waved through and entered another short hallway, where a large pair of doors waited, with two more security guard standing watch. Flashing their I.D.'s at them, the guards opened the doors, and the two allies strode inside to the meeting room.

Most of the other nations were already there, and so Colombia found herself and Cuba at the center of attention. The room was rectangularly shaped, with a triangular table in the center of it. The flags of the western hemisphere decorated the front of the room, and several reporters sat in chairs near the back, holding microphones and tablets to take notes. Brazil, acting as Chair of the permanent council, and America, as Vice Chair[1], sat at the front, at the shortest end of the triangle, with the other nations sitting at their assigned places at the longer two sides. Cuba and Colombia were sitting fairly close to each other since the seating was in alphabetical order, with only Costa Rica between them.

Colombia's mouth felt dry as they sat down, and the pit in her stomach was still there, but now she couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement go up her spine. When was the last time she had stood up for herself like this? Now, she was finally doing something about it!

Starting remarks proceeded as usual. Brazil opened discussion with the issue of poverty in Central America first, and she couldn't help but notice how invested Cuba seemed in the discussion, though most of her attention remained on America.

Seeing America for the first time since her alliance with Cuba, Colombia couldn't help but look for the signs of financial strain Cuba had alleged in their meetings in him. Now, she couldn't help but feel that they were being confirmed. America, though invested in the discussion, seemed to avoid the topic of actually doing anything to help fix the issue or making any lasting commitments that involved spending his own resources. In a stark contrast of his policies in the 20th century, he really did seem to be backing off and letting the more regional powers take precedence in the issue. Colombia smiled softly to herself, before announcing her own plans for a more active stance on welfare, well aware of Cuba's gaze on her.

Eventually, the topic closed with a resolution passed that formalized a Colombian, Cuban, Venezuelan, and Mexican agreement to form a special committee to investigate the issue personally, take preliminary measures, and report their findings in the next meeting. Attention turned back to Brazil, who cleared his voice somewhat awkwardly as he addressed the elephant in the room.

"The chair now opens discussions for the topic on the South American fog issue," he announced, sharing a glance with America. A low murmur went through the nations and the reporters behind them. "And alleged Cuban interference in cutting down on the amount of fog in the region."

Venezuela, of course, spoke first.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" She said. As the last nation in alphabetical order, she sat some ways away, on the end of one of the longer sides and next to America. "You have disrupted our operations in Brazil and have etched away at the fog without informing us first."

"First of all," Cuba said after a moment, calm and collected as usual. He did not spare Venezuela a look, instead keeping his eyes on Brazil as he answered the chairman's question. "I can confirm that my nation, as well as Colombia, were involved in removing a portion of the fog, and hope to help more in the future. Secondly, we are under no obligation that I am aware of to inform you of the measures we take to help South America, New Order Venezuela. We are not part of the NSAO nor HERA, and have no ties to you save through the OAS. We will get rid of the fog first, because we have the technology to remove it."

Venezuela's face contracted, and she made as if to respond, but Brazil spoke before she did.

"Cuba and Colombia, what you are doing is causing the rise of Hybrid Energy Levels in the region. You've seen what happened to the DRC; the high levels there are interfering with daily work and the war effort."

"Then perhaps we rely too much on Hybrid Energy," Belize spoke up. Colombia turned towards the Central American nation in mild surprise, but he did not add anything else to his comment, simply leaning back in his chair.

"Or perhaps we are utilizing it in the wrong way," Cuba added. "We used coal as a fuel for electricity before water and wind. What harm is there in trying new things?"

"Quite a bit," Brazil put in, unimpressed. "The NSAO has already agreed to place sanctions on you unless you cease your activities in South America."

Cuba leaned back in his chair, unperturbed at the threat. "What a nasty response. I'm trying to help, and you won't allow it because you didn't allow me into your alliance. Boo-hoo. I, for one, am not aiming for a repeat of history. A single country or two holding all the power in the Western Hemisphere will not happen again."

America shifted, eyes flickering away from the Latin nations, and Brazil scowled at Cuba. Venezuela seemed like she very much wished to punch the Caribbean nation in the face, and Colombia didn't miss how her eyes flickered to America. Poor girl. At this rate she was going to get her heart broken.

"You're leaving too much residue in the environment," Venezuela finally spoke after a moment, voice low. "And we have little idea what long-term effects it will have on it. This is your last warning. Stop trying to take away the fog."

"Try me."

At this the younger nation almost stood, but once again Brazil cut her off.

"We're getting off track," he cut in. Watching the nation, Colombia could see that he was barely restraining his own anger as well. "The chair moves for a private meeting to be organized between Cuba, Colombia, and the NSAO. We won't get any more work done on this subject the way things are now."

"Seconded," Argentina agreed before Venezuela could protest. She frowned, but seemed to calm herself, and in the end said nothing.

"I find those terms agreeable. Colombia and I will await your counsel," Cuba said. Colombia nodded to ascertain her own consent. Brazil nodded, and turned the subject to South American participation in the opening events of the Olympics.

Despite her reservations and knowing the first phase of their plan wasn't over yet, Colombia smiled to herself. She pretended to not see the suspicious and slightly angry looks Venezuela was sending her.

March 14, 2044

Doruma, DRC

"This is the best option for us at the moment. Do you think you can go through with it?" Ezana asked, sitting down across from Dikembe. The former authoritarian looked at him with a blank gaze, whatever grief he was surely feeling firmly tucked away where no one could see it, as he did with most of his emotions these days. Beside him, Yessuf Abebe crossed his arms, looking slightly bored, while Alemayehu stood quietly in the back. The man had grown a beard since Dikembe had last seen him, curly black hair extending several inches from his chin and jaw.

"I will have to, won't I?" Dikembe replied, eyes lingering on the temelikachi for a moment longer than was perhaps necessary. The man had always put him on edge; a temelikachi appearing was a sign of great change and danger, and Alemayehu was no different. "According to you."

Alemayehu ducked his head briefly. "I only tell you what I see," he recited, as he did every time his role as temelikachi came up in conversation. "You decide where to go from there."

Yessuf rolled his eyes discreetly. Though the human believed in temelikachi, he'd always been the one to advocate not blindly following it's advice the most.

"I personally think it's quite stupid," he said with a disinterested shrug. "But you do what you think is best, Congo. You know Ethiopia and the Elites much better than I do, and whether they'll throw you in prison or not."

"They won't," Ezana said vehemently. "Ethiopia won't risk keeping the Congo as a puppet; they'll look too much like a conqueror and promote unrest in the region. But they will be watching you, Dikembe. If you go back, you will have no contact with us, and any minor slip up could ruin our plans."

"I know having someone outside of your influence does not sit well with you," Dikembe replied, ignoring how his old friend made to protest. "And trust me, I don't like being a sleeper agent for a couple decades either, but this is how it has to be. I'll contact Eritrea—she's the most empathetic of the group—and tell her that I protested my government and they tried to capture me. I escaped to here, Doruma, where I remained until I felt well enough and wouldn't risk being found by my current government—" he motioned to his arm, which was in a sling, and subtly to his abdomen, which was covered in wounds but masked by his shirt. "Which was only recently. Simple enough."

"There's no such thing as a simple plan," Yessuf said. Dikembe met his gaze evenly.

"I am more than capable of adjusting to change," he replied evenly.

Ezana let out a long, tired sigh as he stood, Yessuf and Dikembe following. The two nations shook hands, and Ezana briefly kissed Dikembe three times on the cheek[2]. Knowing that such a display of affection was rare for the man, Dikembe did not hesitate to return the gesture.

"Goodbye, my friend," Ezana murmured, walking past him and to the door.

"And to you." Dikembe smiled softly at him, raising a single hand in farewell. Ezana paused, then smiled back, raised his hand for a moment, then was gone into the crowded street, Yessuf and Alemayehu following close behind.

And finally, the Democratic Republic of the Congo was alone with his thoughts.

April 2, 2044

London, United Kingdom

Arthur let out a short, shaky breath, messaging his forehead as it throbbed. His vision blurred, and he let out another breath, doing his best to remain upright. Around him, the cool nighttime air of a nearly deserted St James' Park blew gently, and he pulled his coat tighter to protect himself from it.

The former empire gritted his teeth in frustration, stopping by a lightpole to rest for a moment before continuing on. He'd been just fine up until a half an hour or so ago, when this infernal headache had sprung up. Now his whole body felt like it had in the years during and after World War II: shaky, dizzy, and weak. Except this time, Germany wasn't trying to bomb him into oblivion. Nothing of the serious note was happening in his country, nor was anything occurring externally that involved him. Hell, even the war in the Congo was over!

Arthur leaned on the freezing cold pole, cursing his stubbornness for not taking a cab to his home on 10 Downing Street when he'd had the chance. His hands fluttered vaguely towards his earpiece as he thought, briefly considering calling to get picked up before discarding the thought. He was the United Kingdom, for heaven's sake. He could do something as simple as walk himself home.

Then, suddenly, a loud screeching burst into his ears, causing Arthur to cry out in a sudden increase of pain, collapsing to his knees. He looked around himself, but found nothing to suggest that he was being assaulted. That left his country. If something was happening—

The last thing Arthur felt was an immense fear for his people before the world flashed blue, then red, and finally faded into nothing at all.

[1]- The Nation's OAS meeting is based off of the organization of Permanent Representatives to the OAS. The only change is that Brazil, Venezuela, America, Canada, and Chile rotate through the positions of Chair and Vice Chair. Their roles are to lead the meeting topics and to keep order.

[2]- In Ethiopian culture, two people with a close personal relationship and of the same gender kiss each other three times on the cheek.

Top Regional Powers (In Order and By Continent):

The Americas: (1) U.S.A. (2) New Order Venezuela (3) Brazil (4) Cuba (5) Canada

Europe: Information Unavailable

Africa: (1) Ethiopia (2) Somalia (3) South Africa (4) Algeria (5) Eritrea

Asia: Information Unavailable

Oceania: Information Unavailable