The group was led down a white hall, cement on both sides with what looked like metal as a ceiling. The floor was the type of floor you'd see in any public school; cold and hard. There weren't many other doors on the walls and the ones that did show were vaulted and drilled down tightly with the words "warning" or "restricted" on them. It was a chilling sight and these feelings only escalated when security doors started showing up. The soldier leading them had to use a hand scan, eye scan, card scan, voice recognition, an had to put a pattern into what looked like a checker board. The group was then patted down, much to their dismay, and was finally brought to the final room after their booze, car keys, wallets, and shoes were all taken from them and placed in the "coat room".

"I ask you keep conversation with this criminal to a minimum. He's crafty and volatile. Anyways you guys only get five minutes every hour; government protocol. "

"Pshhh crafty and volatile?" China scoffed. "If anything America is the Dough Boy."

The soldier shot him a glare and then pressed a red button next to the door which signaled for America to be returned to his handcuffs on the bed. They waited as two soldiers went in from a different door and cuffed him. The signal was sent to the soldier leading the group and he finally let them in, one at a time of course.

The sight was unbelievable in the truest sense for the group, but each person had the same thought when they saw a once boisterous and obnoxiously loud America chained down and silently staring at the wall like a dead man. He didn't even turn to them as the door shut behind the group.

"A-America?" Japan wasn't sure how to approach this man anymore.

He didn't even turn; America just kept looking at the wall.

"Hey, the man called for you." England's voice shivered, feigning confidence.

"Why? Why are you here?" America's voice sounded cold and sterile, much like the building.

"What do you mean why are we here? You know why we're here you…you-" Germany didn't even finish before America snapped his head back to them, his cold dead eyes ripping through them like a constant barrage of bullets.

"What am I? A thief? A murderer? A scoundrel who doesn't deserve to breathe the air he needs? You don't know what I really am. I don't even know, but don't act like we're all guiltless. Don't act like you don't know what it's like to kill and hurt people and take things that don't belong to you."

"Look we know regretful things have been done in the past, but that's in the past. But what you did is inexcusable and I will not have the wonders of my country stolen by some punk for no good reason" France's voice started to rise.

"What?!" America's handcuffs were strained against the bolted down bed as he tried to lunge his way towards France.

"You don't even know why I stole it. I don't know why I stole it. I thought it was because I wanted to feel more human at first, but" he lowered back down "but there's something else. It's not just that."

"Don't be such the drama queen America. I just want to know where my things are. That's all." Russia gave a condescending smile, but deep down he felt somewhat concerned being in the same room with America.

"Aren't your five minutes almost up?" America turned back to the white wall, his fingers twiddling with the chains.

"We're not leaving until you answer our questions." Canada grabbed America's shoulder and turned him so that the two were face to face.

"Why America? What sparked you to do this? Why did you kill those people? Why haven't you been talking to us about your problems?"

"Because"

"Because what?"

"Because…" America started to stutter.

"Because why?" Canada said in a hushed shout.

America had been counting the seconds and five minutes was only about twenty seconds away. He only has to elude them for that long, but he doesn't know how to keep it up without turning the last seconds into a therapy session.

"Because, because…" he stopped and, though it was subconsciously at first, felt something click. "The reason I won't talk to you people is because you all are the problem. It's your fault."

He felt a rage build up inside him. "You all are the problem" he shouted. "You all…it's all of you. You, you, YOU, YOU!" He couldn't control his voice anymore.

He was full on shouting at the group, the chains of his handcuffs nearing a break. The alarms around him went off and suddenly the room filled with smoke and two soldiers came in and pushed the group out as soon as possible. The door shut, the group dumbfounded.

"What'd you do that for?" Germany asked the soldier.

"Patient was showing signs of distress and we can't have too much overstimulation or else we don't know if we'll be able to handle it."

"Ehhh? But, but, but"

A voice behind them stopped Italy from trying an argument.

"Excuse me men, but I'm the warden, and I'm here to talk to you about Mr. America in there." His voice matched that of a loan shark who was about to make a deal.

"Warden? That seems a little excessive."

"Not really Mr. England, but we're all allowed an opinion. Now listen, that man in there won't speak a word about anything, so we need you all, or at least some of you, to get him to budge some. That's all we want."

"Wait, really? Why us?" France let a shiver go down his spine.

"Why? Well you all know him best, and after that little show it looks like you all are correlated to his actions. Do you have any ideas about what you could've done to spark this behavior?"

There was an awkward silent which was translated as a no.

"Very well then; my boys will show you the waiting room. We're going to have to set the patient up for face to face interaction, but that won't be until tomorrow. We've got to pump him up with pills. You know, to sedate him." There was no mercy in his voice.

He walked away with a few other soldiers before anyone could reply to him. Some other soldiers escorted the men to a separate room with a bunch of white, round tables and an empty buffet.

"You're free to leave whenever, but I can't assure your reentrance." The soldier told them as a conveyer belt started up and started bringing out different foods that filled out the different containers of the buffet. "This is just complementary."

The soldiers went to guard the door.

"Complementary? More like hell." Italy glared at what looked like macaroni that had been cooked with no love.

"Should we go?" Germany asked.

"No" the collective rest said since they wanted to be sure to speak to America.

They wanted their things back, and bad food wasn't going to stop them.

They began the wait, but as they waited America was being attacked in the blinding smoke, the soldiers pumping him with mind altering medications and then medications that sedated him into a deep sleep. He struggled intensely and a few men were knocked unconscious in the struggle but they eventually got their needles into him. All of this, they thought, was to calm him down.

But did they know what America would dream or feel? Dear God they wish they did as it would finally end the questions as to "why he did it".

America dreamt of a world where he was someone else, but the same. In his dream he blinked into focus, and suddenly realized where he was.