The media had a field day that morning, the constant buzz of the news surrounding the world.
"World's greatest thief caught in breakdown"
"Artifacts yet to be found but suspect has been detained"
"Truth behind the robberies"
"Man detained in prison, readying to be returned home as his status keeps him from any real punishment."
"What's REALLY going on? AKA ILLUMINATI."
Though the World was on full edge the meeting was quiet enough to hear a pin drop, nobody really sure what to do with the information handed to them. They just watched the news real play over and over on the big screen mounted at the end of the long table. Some were thinking about where the artifacts were, some questioned how someone like America could pull off such heists, and then some were simply relieved that their artifacts were safe.
"No, I refuse to believe it. There has to be a reasonable explanation to all of this." Canada, strangely enough, broke the silence of the room.
"I'm just trying to understand how an idiot like him could pull off such incredible heists." Germany pondered.
There was another silence until England abruptly stood up. "Well I don't know about you all but I'm going to figure out what exactly that bloke was thinking. The news says he'll be back in America by Thursday so I think it's high time that we get to the complete bottom of this. Now I don't care what you all think but I'm not going home until my questions are answered."
He started to walk to the door. "Now, I don't care what you all do but I'm not staying around for a pointless meeting talking about nothing. Good day." He walked out the room, shutting the door behind him harshly.
Thursday came around and America was shipped home to a facility where they shut him up in a bleak white room with a single bed and a door that was a foot thick. They handcuffed him to the metal frame of the bed and the room was guarded with the force of an entire militia, guns at the ready and men prepared to strike.
America simply looked at the wall, pondering the past events, wondering why he was so brash in his half-assed attempt. He was better than that, so why did he breakdown like that?
Sirens went off and the door opened to let in a long faced man wearing a nice black and grey striped suit. His body reeked of cheap cologne. The soldiers shut the door behind him, America and the man staring each other down. Finally the man leaned on the white wall and sighed.
"You've sure caused a mess of things here." He took a cigarette out. "You want a smoke?"
America refused to answer so the man shrugged. "Suit yourself." He lit it and went on to nonchalantly talking to him.
"Look, I can tell you just want me to cut to the chase. I respect that in a man. All I need from you is the location of those artifacts. That's all. What do you say?"
America thought for a moment and decided that he'd rather keep his keepsakes. Not for himself though; he just wanted to piss the man off.
"Look here sonny; you want to know who I am? I'm your warden and just to let you know" he came in close to America's face and blew a cloud in his face. "I eat scum like you for breakfast. Now, tell us where those artifacts are. It's not like we won't find them anyways, so just tell us."
America looked in his eyes, and opened his mouth to tease the man. He kept it half open, and then suddenly spat in the warden's face. The warden didn't flinch.
"Fine…fine. That's alright." The warden walked back to the door to leave. "Just sit here and rot. You've got an eternity to do it, but I'll be back if you come to your senses." He walked halfway out the door but then stopped and turned to America. "Oh, and just so you know, your little friends are on their way down here. They seemed pretty ecstatic to come when I called them up. Apparently they were already planning their visit."
(I do not own Hetalia)