America opened his eyes again a short while later, determined that England's sacrifice wouldn't be for nothing. He slid down and got under the bushes, waiting for the clamp of army men's boots to come close. When he didn't hear anything, he put his cheek against the ground and peered out at the space between the leaves and the grass. He could only see a few black vans, but it was likely that more circled all the way around the tall building.

Alfred was stumped. What should he do? He readjusted Texas on his face and looked closer at a van that had its back doors wide open.

"They're empty!" the young nation whispered, realization lighting upon his face. All of the soldiers had gone inside. While Alfred knew he would be abandoning his fellow nations, he comforted himself with the thought that he would find help and rescue all of them later, especially Iggy.

"I can finally be a hero! No one will make fun of me ever again," America smiled, mostly back to his old self.

Before leaving the safety of the bushes, Alfred made sure that no one was around. He prayed that all of the vehicles really were empty. Quickly, he darted out onto the parking lot and passed the vans. His hunch had been right. America looked back at the building just once to make sure no one was coming out. He could see the broken window from his new vantage point, but there was nothing there anymore except darkness.

-

Alfred had been running down the streets of London (which was near where the Meeting had been held) for almost fifteen minutes nonstop. He slowed down to catch his breath, finally aware of his lungs and throat burning after he initially ignored them and his throbbing wounds for a while.

He wasn't far enough away from the scene, but his hotel was nearby. Both of those insights were dangerous, however. What if those people stormed the hotel? But wait; maybe he could get on the next flight to America? No, no, no. Would the President know what to do? But then, what should he do?

America plopped down on a nearby bench so he could clear his thoughts. During his run it had started to rain, but he didn't notice his clothes were getting completely soaked; he was so immersed in planning out what to do.

"Okay," he whispered to himself, "I should just stay in Europe and call the President later. There's no need to rush back home. The kidnappers might not go too far and they might get a hold of my travel records…"

Next strategy, then.

"Our World Meeting building was kind of isolated. I don't think they'd risk the hotel owners calling the cops on them…"

It seemed logical. At the very least he should go to the hotel for a bit to unpack anything useful for his mission and ring up the President.

Alfred walked for another fifteen minutes toward the direction of the hotel in the rain, but he hugged the sides of the buildings, stayed in crowds, and kept watch for black vans. He successfully made it without being followed.

When he got to his room, America sat down on the bed and sighed. After about two minutes he realized his hair was dripping with rain and his clothes were darkened with water. Also, he was getting blood on his bed and the floor. Huh. He must have looked horrible. No wonder he had been getting stares.

The first thing to do was to shower and change clothes. Because he was still out of it, Alfred took longer than expected and he nearly fell asleep in the tub.

The young nation put on a clean, identical set of the clothes he usually wore. Then, he found Neosporin and a box of band-aids and treated his cuts with them. When he was finished and had gone back to the bedroom area, the doorknob jiggled ominously. Someone walked in before Alfred could hide or figure out what else to do.

"Who the hell are you?" America asked angrily, prepared to fight.

"I'm Canada, your brother!!" Matthew yelled back, equally enraged. "You know, I kind of wish I had been kidnapped." He sighed and closed the door. "No one knew I was there, not even the kidnappers…" he seemed thoroughly disappointed. "I was able to slip by without getting noticed." The visibly tired nation put away his umbrella in the holder nearby. He had remembered earlier that it was rainy in London.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Matthew…" America apologized, flustered. They both sat on the bed. "Well, did you see what else happened after England saved me from those bastards?"

"There was too much of a struggle and I just wanted to get out of there…" Canada recounted, holding Kumajiro closer to him as a comfort while he explained his feelings. "Some of the nations were fighting back but it was too early to tell if any of them would succeed."

"What happened to Arthur?" Alfred asked shakily, his voice sounding slightly scared.

Matthew could sense his distress and said sadly, "About five guys were dragging him away. He was unconscious. There was nothing I could do."

"Damn it," Alfred muttered under his breath. He looked away so as not to show any weaknesses on his face. "Do you know where they were headed?"

"One of them may have mentioned a place, but I just…" Matthew was now on the verge of tears. "I'm just so useless! I'm very, very sorry, America." He stared at the back of the blonde head of hair apprehensively, hoping his brother wasn't displeased with him.

"Don't worry about it; it might come back to you!" Alfred turned and answered him cheerfully, despite the situation and the way he had been before. He even smiled brightly like he used to. It was the side of Alfred that Canada was the most accustomed with, and so he smiled back.

America nearly forgot why he had come back to the hotel. Immediately, he changed his attitude again, and took charge like a hero should. "They might look for us here, so we've got to prepare. Let's see if there's anything we can use in our luggage that will help us on this journey we are about to embark on."

"O – Okay," Canada replied timidly. "I'm not sure I brought anything useful, though."

"It's fine. I'm not sure I did either."

They searched each other's bags, but didn't find much anything of particular use since they hadn't felt any danger when first flying out to Europe to begin with, and anyway, it was impractical to carry big items or many objects with them all the time. America sighed in exasperation as they went down to the lobby so they could find a pay phone somewhere, or, since they were in Britain, a telephone booth or something. The call could still be traced, but at least it'd be less obvious than if they used their cell phones. Hopefully, he'd still be able to get through to the President and make him believe it was him, and about what was happening.

"I wish we at least had some weapons or something. Going out there without any firepower and all by ourselves…I don't feel like a hero anymore. I kind of feel like a fool…" America complained to his brother.

"I'm sure once we call your boss we'll have a better idea of what to do," Canada reassured him. "After all, I'm not sure if the Queen of England even knows we exist, so it'd be hard to get to her or any other country's superior…"

America agreed. "Well, at least we sort of know what to do."

But directly after he uttered those words, there was a loud squealing of tires just outside and a black van was visible through the large glass doors of the hotel lobby.

"Shit!" Alfred cursed, immediately getting in front of Matthew in order to protect him. "They've found us."

--

A/N: Wow, thanks for the reviews and subscriptions and such, guys! ^^ I feel much more inspired to write. I also really hope I finish this story because I don't want to disappoint anyone. I usually have a strong beginning and then a weak middle and then I never get to the end because I'm not inspired or just give up because it's crap...

But I promise I'll try to put my best into this! :)

And, if I say something that isn't accurate about Europe or about what any of the countries say, please tell me. I'm unfamiliar with European customs and such. ;__; And also tell me if anyone's out of character.