AN: I planned this to be the last chapter, until I realized that it would be too long. So instead of a four-part story, it's a five-part story. Enjoy, rejoice, review, etc.
Chapter Four: In which Britain gets a nosebleed, America's heroic escape is thwarted, and more sorcery is performed.
"I still haven't given up on using magic," Britain said as they marched back to base camp. He was calmed down slightly, but still had a slightly wild look in his green eyes. "There's got to be some way of making the spells stop sticking to America and go after the Axis instead."
France winced. "Britain, I... I do not think that more magic would exactly be a bonne idée..."
"It's the best shot we've got! Why not take it?"
"Because it keeps going wrong," said China. "That's why."
Britain put a hand to his forehead. "But so does everything else! Why don't we just give up, then?"
"A good idea," China said immediately. "Finally you are making sense. I think we should-"
"That was sarcasm!" Britain told him angrily. "You said yourself that you needed America to fight Japan! What happened to that?"
China turned around and waved an admonishing finger in Britain's face. "This rescue operation is costing us too much. We cannot keep wasting our resources, even if it is to help a fellow ally. America will just have to find way to escape on his own. End of discussion." He nodded curtly and turned to walk away,
"No! Not the blasted end of discussion!" Britain leaped forward and blocked China's path. "Let me try just one more spell," he insisted. "I've got an idea."
"You keep having these ideas," observed Russia. "And... they all end not so good. Why is new idea going to be any better?"
"Because... well, if America's acting as some kind of spell magnet, then maybe we're trying the wrong approach. Instead of trying to work spells on the Axis, we could target America instead. Use a spell on him to get him out, instead of trying to incapacitate the others."
France looked suspicious. "What are you suggesting, then?"
"How about a teleportation?" Britain offered. "They're a bit tricky and I'm missing some ingredients, but it could work if we switch the operative clause-"
"Non, non, you see, Britain, when you say things like that, 'It could work', and 'Switch the operative clause', zen I start to think, this will not end well for the Allies Powers..."
"Please," Britain whispered.
Slowly, France raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"
"I said, please," mumbled Britain, a bit louder.
"Couldn't hear you..." sang France, who was clearly enjoying this.
"Please!"
France looked Britain up and down. "And what will you do for me if I agree?"
Britain glared. "I'll give you a giant shipload of money," he said, thinking, I can probably get America to pay France off when this is all over. After all, he'll owe me.
"That is all?" France asked, sounding disappointed.
"Yes. A shipload of money. Take it or leave it."
France thought for a moment. "One spell, then?"
"It'll work. I promise you."
In the background, China turned to Russia and said, "I'll bet you one thousand yuan it will backfire on the Axis."
"Are you crazy? No way. I think it will not work at all. One thousand yuan is about five thousand rubles, no? It's a bet."
They shook hands, and afterwards they both surreptitiously wiped their palms on their clothing.
(Cue opening credits)
Britain's Rescue Plan Journal!
Plan E!: Just One More Spell!
Britain was watched with extreme skepticism as he etched out another pentagram on the ground. He had been so careful this time. He'd even tested the spell on that damn crab, over and over until the thing was so dizzy it walked straight for once in its life. This was going to work, he told himself angrily.
He didn't tell anyone about what happens when you use too much magic in one go, because he swore to himself that he could handle it. He did bigger magic than this, right? All the time. This was kid stuff.
"What do you think we should do if one of the Axis is transported through instead?" China asked in a hushed voice.
"We hit him over the head with large stick," Russia said complacently.
"Good plan," China agreed. "Then we can have hostage of our own."
Russia had his little purple aura hanging around his eyes. "Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of, 'hit him until his skull cracks open,' da?"
Yes, you would be thinking that, China said silently. "Don't you think it would be better for us if we kept them alive?" he asked weakly.
"Can we torture them?" asked Russia. "Because then that could be pretty fun..."
"Possibly," said China.
"Of course not!" France exclaimed, at the same time. He turned to China. "Really! How could you say such a thing? Prisoners must be treated with respect and courtesy!" He sniffed, and crossed his arms.
"I think I have a feeling of what you would do to a prisoner," China said under his breath.
France heard him. "I would never!" he protested.
"Shut up, you lot," said Britain. "The spell is all prepared. Now, just make sure you aren't standing in the pentacle at all." He shooed them to the edges of the clearing, took a breath, and began to chant.
At first there seemed to be no effect. But, it took about a minute for the teleport spell to work - they'd seen that before with the crab. Eventually, golden sparkles started to appear in the middle of the pentacle, looking almost like flakes of glitter.
China and Russia both watched the middle intently, trying to make out what the form was turning out to be. They realized that they hadn't decided who would win the bet if the spell actually worked.
France, in the meantime, took the binoculars and dashed over to the cliff. "Britain! I think the spell is working! America is sparkling like a gay vampire!" He ran back, not wanting to miss any of the action.
Britain simply nodded and continued to chant. His head was swimming. He felt like he was getting drunk but without the fun part of not caring about what's happening to you. He didn't feel that way, just woozy and uncomfortable.
"Something is appearing in the pentagram!" China exclaimed. "It looks like-"
It was shaped like America... until it crumpled to the ground in a heap. The golden glitter vanished.
"What the crapski?" said Russia mildly.
Britain went white. "Bollocks! How did that not work? How did that not work?" He snatched the binoculars from France and ran for the cliff edge.
"Stop!" shouted France, who had realized what had happened. "Britain! That is almost definitely not a good idea...!"
But it was too late. Britain had put the binoculars to his eyes and found America.
"Oh, dear," said France. Next to him, Britain had made a gulping noise, dropped the binoculars, and fainted. A line of blood was running from his nose down his chin.
China and Russia were arguing heatedly over whether or not this constituted as a failure or a misfire.
America's clothes had come without him.
~0~0~ Hetalia ~0~0~
Germany was just going to check up on the prisoner. He took one look at America and went bright scarlet.
"What the hell happened with you?" he yelled, putting an arm across his eyes. "Why are you naked?"
"I don't know!" America hollered back. "I was just sitting here and all my clothes disappeared! If any of you had something do with this I swear to God I'm going to-"
Japan appeared next to Germany. "Sometimes that happens when you spend time around France," he pointed out. "Perhaps he is nearby."
"Hey, guys... what's going on...?" Italy had wandered up. Germany spun around and slapped a hand over Italy's eyes.
"Go away and do not look," Germany ordered. "Now."
Italy kept his eyes closed as he drifted away. "Why? Is it a surprise? Is it...?"
"Well, then," said Germany. "Obviously something strange has happened here."
"Yeah, no sh-" America started to say, but Germany had stomped off. He came back holding a green uniform.
"You will put this on," commanded Germany.
America made a face. "Ew! Is that yours? No frikking way! I'm not wearing a kraut uniform! I'd rather stay naked!"
"Put the gottverdammten thing on!"
"All right, all right," muttered America. "Whatever. But, you're gonna have to untie me to do that, okay?"
~0~0~ Hetalia ~0~0~
Britain lay awake that night, unable to enjoy the extra blankets that resulted from America's absence. He was suffering from a multi-layered headache, wounded pride, and a feverish lightheadedness from too much magic and also partly from all the alcohol he'd downed to try to forget what he had seen.
He rolled to his side, pulling the sheets around him tighter, and then found that his nose was now poking into someone's chest. He froze, made a horrified strangled noise in his throat, and wondered if he should scream for backup. Then he looked up and saw who it was, and nearly screamed anyway.
"Yo," said America. "What's up, bud?"
"What. The. Hell?" Britain hissed.
America chuckled and shifted to a more comfortable position. "You shoulda seen your limey face," he said. "It was that one you make when you're really freaked out... Ah, I love that face. So funny."
"How did you...? You got away...?"
"Naw, dude!" America grinned. "I'm not America, see? I'm America's ghost. Ha, there, you made that face again..."
Britain looked horrified. "You're his ghost? He's dead?" His expression became one of anguish. "It's all my fault!" he moaned. "If only I'd come up with a plan that actually worked! I'm so sorry, America! It's my fault you're dead!" He buried his face in America's shirt.
"Jesus, Britain, you gotta chillax. I'm not dead, okay?"
Britain paused. "You're not?"
"You know, 'ghost' was probably the wrong word. More like... I don't know... 'essence' or 'soul' or something badass like that. 'Cause, if I actually was a ghost, that'd be all weird and freaky and, like, not good."
"So, America's not dead?" Britain looked more closely at this America's shirt and noticed that he could see right through it. He stared at it in a kind of fascinated disgust.
"Nope. America is definitely not dead."
Britain let go of the ghostly shirt and flopped onto has back, crossing his arms and pulling a face. "Well, in that case, I don't see why you're here. In fact, you're probably nothing more than a trauma-induced hallucination."
America's not-ghost found this funny. "Hahaha! Britain's trippin'! Britain's trippin'!" He poked Britain in the side, and to Britain's annoyance the finger felt quite solid.
"Get out of my bed," said Britain stiffly. "Or my brain. Whichever."
"What's option C?" the spirit asked.
Britain thought about it. "Tell me why you're here."
The not-ghost of America propped himself up on an elbow and looked at Britain with surprisingly gentle eyes. "A reminder."
"Reminder of what?" Britain felt like he was being pinned to the mattress with two sky blue, bespectacled tools of hypnotism.
America's spirit smiled and leaned over Britain. "Of me, I suppose," he said, and Britain's cheeks flamed. What the hell's happening? he thought. The not-ghost of America reached around and took hold of something behind Britain's head.
And then he sat up, having yanked the sheets out from under Britain. The spirit of America flashed a cheeky smile and then jumped to his feet. "Catch ya later," he smirked, and then took off down the beach, with all of Britain's bedsheets trailing behind him, flapping in the breeze. And he was laughing his head off.
"You wanker!" Britain shrieked. "Give me back my blankets! That's not funny!" He tried to get up to chase America but his limbs felt uncommonly heavy. "I hate you!" he yelled. "I bloody hate you, America! I-"
Before he could yell any more, Britain woke up with a start.
~0~0~ Hetalia ~0~0~
"What did I tell you, Angleterre?" France was saying, wagging a finger at him. "I come over to wake you up and what do I hear you mumbling in your sleep? 'America' this, 'America' that..."
"What...?" said a disoriented Britain, wondering why the sky was still dark. "No, no... he stole my-" Then he noticed what France was holding as he was standing over the mattress. "Er. Blankets?" he finished. Oh. Just a dream, then. A mad, weird dream.
"Ah. There you are," China said, appearing from Britain's left. "Now get up. We have been working on a new plan to retrieve America."
"Without me?" Britain groaned. "What time is it? It's not even morning yet."
"Exactly," said China. "That is why it will work. We catch them when they are sleeping."
Britain shook his head groggily. He had a terrible hangover. "But... someone's bound to be standing guard..." he said.
"That is part of the plan," said China, dragging Britain to his feet. "I thought you would be happy that we are going to try to rescue America. Now are you coming or not?"
"I hate America," mumbled Britain.
"I think we'll take that as a no," said Russia. "Never mind. We go without him."
-Britain's- (crossed out) China, France and Russia's Rescue Plan Journal!
Plan F!: The Tranquilizer Dart!
America felt very clever indeed. After they'd given him some space to put on Germany's spare uniform, he'd managed to slip a hairpin in his pocket. It was going to work even better than the nail. Now he had spent the whole night trying to get the pin into the padlock around his chains and figure out what this whole 'picking a lock' thing was all about.
It had been at least two hours before he realized which way to stick the hairpin. And then, it had been another two hours trying to pick the pin off the ground after he'd dropped it when he was nearly spotted by Japan.
Eventually, though, he had wormed it into the lock and was simply working it, trying to find the right combination of motions to get the damn thing open. His hand hurt a bit from having to stay in such a contorted position for so long, but he ignored it and concentrated on getting out.
There was a click...
"Oh my god, no way!" America whispered. "This is supremely awesome!"
The padlock fell open at his feet.
America very slowly unwrapped the chains, like a small child opening a giant Christmas present that is too good to be real. He couldn't wait to see all of the Allies' expressions. Especially Britain's. He would make that face, that surprised face... it was going to be epic...
On the cliff, the three nations were trying to get some room.
"How many times did you practice this?" China asked.
"Oh, lots of times. Do not worry." Russia held up a little contraption that looked very much like a miniature handgun-sized crossbow made out of sticks. It had rubber bands wound all around it and a little dart sticking out of the end. "This is old joke of mine. I have fun with this when Latvia is around." He held out the little gun and steadied it with his other hand. "It gets so boring in my house sometimes."
"All right... wait, is that Germany over there? Look, isn't that him? I can just make out the uniform..."
"Ah!" said Russia. "Got it!" He clicked the trigger. There was a soft snapping noise and a rustle.
America was halfway to the cliff when he felt a little sting on his back. "What the...?" he started to say, and then his vision fuzzed, and he fell to the ground with a thump, entirely unconscious.
"Wait a minute," said China. "I don't see America by his tree..."
France stole the binoculars and stared. "That wasn't Germany!" he said. "That is America! How did he get out of the chains? Why is he wearing Germany's clothes?"
"Never mind why!" China hissed. "Let's run down and get him before the Axis notices!"
"But if that was not Germany then the guard is still..." France was scanning the area frantically. "Ah... Well..." He turned to the others with a pained expression. "You know, if Britain was here, there is something he would say right now."
"What's that?" asked China.
"Bughairr," said France. His accent mangled the word a little but the point was well taken. China silently took the binoculars back and looked down.
Germany was just returning from the forest, where he had been relieving himself. He saw America lying facedown on the sand and charged over, calling to the others. In the time it took to say, "what an epic fail" America was shackled to the tree once again, in about twice as many chains as before.
The Allies sat in their lookout, eyes rather wide.
"I couldn't see anything in this dark," said China defensively.
"China told me to shoot," Russia said. "Not my fault."
"He was wearing the uniform," China went on. "How could I have known?"
France just shook his head slowly.
~0~0~ Hetalia ~0~0~
Unbeknownst to the other Allies, Britain did not fall back into a drunken stupor. He was too angry to go back to sleep, anyway.
"I'm going to make that damn Axis pay for all this," he said to himself. "This is all their fault."
Well, technically, it was America's fault, for having them make a fire which then told the Axis where they were, but he'd already gotten his. Britain wanted revenge for what had happened afterwards. And since he couldn't storm up to the Pearly Gates and lob a stink bomb at God himself, he was going to have to make do with the Axis.
It made him furious to think of how little trouble they'd had this whole time. America hadn't even annoyed them to death yet. Those idiots just sat and relaxed and ate food as if this was a vacation instead of a war.
He wanted them to have an idea of the kind of trouble he was putting up with. And there was something he'd been preparing all this time. Even before America had been captured, he'd been testing its strength. Thus...
Plan G!: The Discord Spell!
Because, honestly, those were easy. It didn't take much to make people start hating each other. Most of the time, people did anyway, and all you had to do was encourage it a little.
"Let's see... what do we need?" Britain thumbed through his spell book. "Two handfuls of gunpowder... we've got that... a pinch of salt... well, there's the ocean right there, so plenty of that... something sour... something bitter... spiders..." He paused. "Why spiders? That's a bit nauseating." But he shrugged and kept reading. "And... of course... accurséd marshmallows..."
He lifted up the charred logs in the fire pit and put them aside. The symbol he'd made three nights ago was still there, burned into the sand.
Britain laid out the ingredients neatly as he fetched them. Soon, the spell was ready. He found a suitable pot and stuffed everything inside with some water, put fresh logs over the symbol, and lit the fire.
Then he cleared his throat and began to recite the incantation.
"Bring on the fire, bring on the hell,
Set everything ablaze so that no trace remains,
Bring on the fire, bring on the hell..."
~TO BE CONTINUED~
(Cue credits and Marukaite Chikyuu, Britain's version)