Chapter 2

Abel, known to many as The Netherlands, didn't understand. In 1945 he had arranged for 100,000 tulip bulbs to be sent to her. Then the next year another 20,500 tulips. Every year after that 10,000 more tulips arrived for her.

That meant in tulips alone he had sent her 790,500 flowers for her capital. This was ignoring the bouquets he sent her every July 1st filled with red lilies, azaleas, lady slippers, mayflowers, and maple leafs. He had been sending those for at least the last four decades. Was it a cultural difference? Did her citizens not give flowers to express interest? Or was she not interested and just too polite to say anything to him about it. This year he would find out. He wouldn't spend another decade attempting to gain the Canadian's interest by sending chocolates and flowers. He was the Kingdom of the Netherlands, dang it, and he would get the girl!

"I can do this! Nothing will stop me!" He muttered softly to himself trying to boost his confidence, clenching his fist. Hearing a shuffling sound next to him, he turned to see the mother who had been sitting next to him the entire flight shifting her son further away from him and watching him carefully. Just great, now people thought he was crazy. Quickly, he got off the plane and moved through the airport, happy to get out of the crowded area.

"Abel, it has been too long!" An overly energetic Frenchman exclaimed and Abel easily located France standing by a taxi. Smiling, the man continued "How convenient we can share a taxi, we are going to the same place."

Before he could ask why Francis thought they would be going anywhere together he was jumped from behind, a rag smelling sickeningly sweet pressed against his mouth and nose.

Slowly the world came back into focus, and years of war helped Abel take in the situation relatively quickly. He was tied firmly to a metal chair, a stainless steel table was in front of him with an uncomfortably bright lamp pointed directly at his face; he could hear voices that were very familiar.

"I don't see why I can't punch him in the face now! It is a perfect opportunity."

"We had this conversation…"

"You especially know what he is like! All of you Europeans are freaks! He can't be allowed…"

"Alfred, would a hero attack the enemy when they were defenseless?"

"But…"

"What would Superman do?"

"But!"

"What would Spiderman do?"

"You suck."

This conversation was way too weird. Did he smoke something and forget? Was he high right now? Shifting in his seat he attempted to shake himself out of this strange hallucination.

"Mon Ami, you're waking up. Are you alright? I do apologize about the rough handling." Francis appeared on the other side of the table.

"What is going on?" Abel growled pulling on the tight ropes holding him down.

"Well, Alfred and I were on our way to ma petite fille tulip festival and we ran into you…" The man was cut off by another blonde coming into view.

"Stop Francis! We do not negotiate with terrorists here!" Was the loud declaration and America, who was known by the few who could stand him as Alfred, came into view.

"I am not a terrorist!" The accusation ripped an instant denial from Abel's lips as he glared at the young man. How was sweet Madeline siblings with that?!

"You can't fool me! I've been watching you; you sick perv. I know everything!" The younger male leaned forward adjusting the lamp so it was pointed into his victim's eyes.

"I believe what Alfred is trying to say, is that we have noticed you have gotten closer to mon chou, Madeline, lately." As Francis spoke he pulled the American away and adjusted the lamp so it was no longer as blinding.

"Madeline is an independent country, I fail to see how it is either of your business." Before Abel could finish his reply Alfred slipped free of Francis and punched him in the face.

"What would the Green lantern do?" Francis asked as he pulled him back once again.

This went on back and forth for an unnecessarily long time and Abel couldn't help but notice there were several times Francis didn't even make it look like he was trying to control the youngest nation in the room. Finally though, they reached a stand still. The facts were simple. Number one, nations couldn't kill one another so Alfred couldn't dispose of him somewhere in the vast wilderness of Alaska or something. Number two, Madeline was indeed a grown woman and independent nation so she could make her own choices. Number three, Abel liked Madeline too much to allow the fact that she had bat crap crazy relatives stop him from pursuing her.

"Fine, here are the rules!" Alfred suddenly snapped after a period of uncomfortable silence.

"1. I know you perverts in Europe are strange, disgusting nations," Francis scoffed looking slightly offended; "so keep your hands to yourself. Until there is a formal merger in place between Canada and the Netherlands the most you can even think of doing with my sister is holding her hand." The star spangled nation started and continued before any protests could be made.

"B. Any dates that you have with my sister must be in a public area or with an approved chaperone." Abel couldn't help but roll his eyes, he hadn't heard of a rule like that since the middle ages.

"3 or C. I am everywhere and I can find out anything. I may not be able to kill you, but I will make your life miserable." With that the younger man turned and walked away, however his dramatic departure was ruined when he walked into the door. After an embarrassing moment of struggling with the handle he left with a slam of the door.

"Never mind him Abel, he is young and worried about his sister," Frances chuckled as he untied the bindings holding down the beaten and annoyed country. Then he paused placing a hand on his shoulder keeping him seated. "Just remember one thing. You make Madeline cry or upset in any way; I will join forces with mon petit lapin, Alice, and we will actively invade your territory. You wouldn't want to be the reason World War 3 starts, would you?"

Suddenly the door burst open and before either man could say or do anything Alfred raised the hand gun and fired once right into Abel's calf.

"That is what Dead-pool would do."

An: This is much more my style. Just writing this fun bit reminded me why I never should try and write serious stories. I will probably go back and edit the first chapter in a bit I just don't know when. Review and tell me what you think.