"Hello again, friend of a friend, I knew you when
Our common goal was waiting for the world to end
Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend
You crack the whip, shape shift and trick the past again"
Metric, "Black Sheep"
It was an undeniable fact that the countries- separated by halls and rooms- ran for their lives. America's ringtone set off a colossal chain of events, starting with the source, him. First, America ran as fast as his legs could take him. He managed to escape Maya's grip by a few milliseconds. The tips of her nails grazed the back of his neck, making the hairs on his skin stand. Once the resurrected country knew America was out of reach, Maya let out a grisly scream that sounded like a howl, echoing through the other empty corridors.
The American followed the pathway where he and Spain came from. Because of the surge of adrenaline rushing through his body, America forgot his escape route. He hit an unrecognizable crossroad, stopping him dead in his tracks. He cursed at himself for not remembering the way of his escape route. America moved his head from side to side, debating on which hall to take in order to exit the museum's labyrinth. He had to make up his mind and fast for he could hear Maya's footsteps coming closer to his location. Her footsteps were as loud as thunder during a raging storm as they her bare heels slapped against the hard floor. The deafening, incoming noise distracted America from making a decision. It clouded any decision-making from finishing, putting America in an entirely dangerous position even more so. And like a beacon of hope, America heard a familiar someone calling him from one of the dark halls.
Spain revealed himself from one of the hallways. He looked panicked; then again he could be reacting to America's uneasiness. America probably looked like a deer in headlights for all he knew. As scared as the two were, having a comrade in the midst of danger eased them of their fears, just a bit. Their little reunion came to a halt when Maya ran into the wall further down the hallway, trampling over the ancient artifacts of Mexican culture thus causing a loud scene in her midst. She had trouble keeping her balance on her newly created legs. They must have felt wobbly from not using them for hundreds of years, but even so that did not stop Maya from attempting to capture the two countries.
"Shit," America exclaimed, pushing Spain's back down the corridor where the Spaniard first showed himself. "We have to get out of here, Spain! Hurry up!" Spain was in shellshock from seeing Maya alive from such a close angle. For a brief moment when she was propping herself up off the ground, their eyes met. Her dark ones full of anguish and anger met his that were doused in guilt and regret of his past. The extreme emotion that shrouded Maya proved to Spain that everything that happened this evening was real and wasn't a nightmare he would so easily wake up from.
His responses were slow as were his movements. America wasn't going down like this not because one of his comrades was acting stupid.
"Come on!" America yanked Spain's arm right before Maya lunged at it. Once again, Maya's deadly claws just grazed the arm of her target. Luckily for them, Maya slammed into the other wall due to her wobbly legs, buying the two more time to run away from her.
Meanwhile, England and Mexico waited for their friends to meet them in the lobby area in an uneasy state after America ended his frantic phone call. The abrupt end left England anxious, making him walk back and forth in front of the reception area to relieve some of his built up stress. England bit the nail of his thumb in a nervous habit. He couldn't stand still even if he tried. All of England's thoughts were filled with the most terrible scenarios his friends could possibly endure, causing his face to grow hot with panic. If anything happened to any of the three, including his worst enemies France and Spain, England would never forgive himself because they were put in danger on his watch. England was guilty for wishing harm on his opponents in the past and even in the more recent days, but he never yearned for cruel unjust acts such as torture upon them.
As England went down his list of friends to protect, Mexico suddenly popped into his mind. And at that same train of thought, England heard a ruffling noise come from behind the front desk. He walked over to the area to inspect who or what caused the noise. He had just about leaned over the museum's pamphlets when a head of thick brown hair arose, standing tall on the other side of the desk. It was Mexico who created the disturbance.
It may have been a slow reveal, but it gave England a small scare nonetheless. The darkness made anyone on edge and fogged their judgment easily.
"Good God, Mexico," he said, feeling his heart race under his hand, "you frightened me. What on Earth are you doing behind the counter?"
"Looking for anything that can be used as a weapon," she answered. "We should all be armed or at least having something in our possession to delay the enemy."
"Did you find anything," England asked as he leaned further over the desk.
"Just the fire extinguisher. You want it?"
"No, I'll be fine. You worry about yourself first." England was always more than willing to show off his gentleman side.
"May I remind you that I brought my baseball bat?" The grin on Mexico's face lightened the atmosphere from heavy and stuffy to a more normal and relaxed feeling. But that lasted for only a moment.
The unsure sensation the darkness left caused both countries' eyes to wonder and become on edge. Both England and Mexico wanted nothing more than for America, France, and Spain to come back unharmed, hoping to confirm their worst thoughts false. Nothing. Only the howling wind from the outside filled the air. This made the both of them fidget and squirm where they stood.
"I'm worried about them," the Mexican woman finally admitted after all this time, leaving the fire extinguisher on the counter as she came around to where England stood.
"As am I."
Something in the dark moved or was moving. There was a noise that sounded like glass shattering. The crash gained the two countries' attention instantly. They looked at the open door from across the room, passed the statue of two people—a man and a woman—standing and looking at the entrance of the museum. The blood in both England and Mexico's bodies went cold. The quick sound of the glass breaking was followed by a clamor of bodies hitting walls and screams that resounded in the empty halls.
The Englishman's body tensed as he realized the holler came closer to them. His empty hands turned into fists. He wished he had taken Mexico's offer when she handed him it, but his pride as a man got the better of him. Plus, he was too stunned to even twitch or move his eyes away from the doorway. England just stood there exposed to the enemy's attack.
They heard stomping and tapping of shoes hitting the ground repeatedly. An optimist might have suggested that the other countries were alive. A realist like England thought of something much differently. They were alive, yes, but being chased by something not so friendly.
Louder and louder the noises became. They knew someone was alive and moving but the fast pace kept them on the two on their toes. The tension built up, and the English and Mexican held in their breath with each passing sound. And before anyone knew it, two parties collided once again. America toppled in the dark room as he revealed himself to the others, which brought relief to England and Mexico since they both exhaled at the same time. Spain came in seconds later. He almost tripped over America but kept his balance.
There were more sighs of relief. However, the panicked faces of the other two countries informed England and Mexico that nothing went according to plan.
"What's going on you two? You gave me a bloody heart attack after you hung up on me, America."
America stopped in front of England, leaning forward as he tried ever so hard to catch his breath before beginning to answer England's question. Spain on the other hand completely ignored England and ran right to Mexico, giving her a huge bear hug to which she physically disliked very much, but underneath it all she was just head over heels happy her friends were safe.
"Oh mija, I was so worried about you," Spain cooed in such great relief as he ran his fingers over her hair, kissing her forehead, but Spain knew they weren't secure for the time being, "We have to get you out of here and fast."
It was strange how Spain could change from doting parent to serious mode in half a millisecond. It never ceased to amaze America.
Mexico was no fool and knew something was amiss. Whenever Spain was serious, it meant no good outcome for anyone. She grew up in his shadow for many years as his colony and understood his mannerisms very well. If nothing happened in the other room, Spain would have acted like his usual airheaded self, not this forceful man jerking her towards the exit of the museum. Something was wrong; Mexico felt it in the air more so than before.
"America, I demand you to tell me about what is happening and now," England snapped America back to their conversation with his serious tone of voice.
"That woman we saw before—she brought two others with her," answered America, out of breath.
"What…?"
"I saw it with my own eyes, so did Spain. She—"
"Wait just a second, where is France? Isn't—shouldn't he be with you two?" England interrupted America not focusing on the story he was being told.
"We lost him," America glanced away from England's eyes as he said the words as if he lost a comrade in the midst of battle. The American placed his hands on England's shoulders stopping the other from looking around, "but you aren't listening to the important part! She changed her appearance. She's young looking now."
"H-how," England looked and sounded flabbergasted, "what does she look like?"
"Spain, let go of me this instant," Mexico yelled from the other side of the room as she yanked her arm away from Spain's hold, "I'm not leaving until I know everything is okay!"
"Like her." America nudged toward Mexico, hinting at where England should look.
England wasn't sure what to make heads and tails of what America was talking about. He hadn't the slightest clue if he should look at the paintings on the walls or mannequins. But one other person was there, Mexico. She released her arm from Spain's grip and folded her arms across her chest. She looked bothered as Spain spoke to her about leaving the museum immediately. The Englishman put the puzzle together even if it pained him to do so. "…Mexico?"
"There's a good reason for that, actually."
"Enlighten me. Exactly how does a dead woman suddenly alter her appearance to look like one of our friends?"
Before America could explain Mexico's hair playing an important role in the woman's transformation, the four countries heard stumbling come from a dark doorway. They waited in anxiety, hoping to see France rather than a stranger. To their luck for now, it was their French companion, tripping over his every other step until he reached a statue to lean on.
France hadn't the slightest clue he had an audience as he barged in the dimly moonlit room. It took a second for him to remember he had people on his side in this godforsaken place. The Frenchman staggered toward his friends like a drunken person with a sigh of relief.
"Oh zank 'eaven, you all are 'ere! Zere is a woman chasing me. We 'ave to leave now!"
"You yank! Stop making an idiot of yourself and stand up like a man. Make yourself presentable first before spouting out orders!"
"Is that seriously your main concern right now," America interjected in a possible argument between his former caretakers. "We have a serious problem going on at the moment so this can wait." France and England settled their upcoming feud for the meantime, but that was not what truly stopped them from continuing on with their bickering. A howl echoed from another room. It sounded like a rabid animal hungry for human flesh. The reunited countries stood still in absolute fear, having no idea of what power the darkness shielded them from at the moment.
America paced around the room, looking like a complete mad man. He ran his hands through his blonde hair. Then he stopped and faced his friends. "We need to hold them off."
"Who in God's name are you talking about?" England was sick and tired of the information America withheld from him. He placed them in even worse danger if those secrets could be of use to them in the future.
Just like England was angry at America for not sharing anything with the rest of the group, America was just as bothered with England poking his nose where he shouldn't. The American stormed right up to his former caretaker and grabbed a fist of England's shirt, pulling them close together so no one would hear the conversation. "Remember when I was a kid and you told me stories about how horrible Spain was to make me hate him, those stories about him killing great civilizations of the Americas?"
England hated to admit it, but America was right about that part of his childhood. Of all things he could recall, America remembered how England poisoned his young mind to hating his enemies like Spain and France. Regrettably, England replied with a muffled "yes" under his breath.
"They are alive and running around in this building as we speak," America hissed more than whispered in England's ear, causing the two to gain Mexico, France, and Spain's attention. Mexico was concerned, obviously, but showed it more than she intended. As for Spain, he must have assumed America was going to inform England from the start, thus letting the two have a minute together.
Just seeing Mexico's worried face enraged America even more so. He was furious with himself for endangering his friends and quite possibly the world because he was too stubborn to listen to anyone, especially England. He hated his pride at the moment. In the past it benefitted him almost always. It helped him gain his independence in the past when he desired nothing more than to stand on his own legs.
"You're joking," remarked England. He sounded amused as if America had told him a joke, but there was doubt and hesitation as he said it. He hoped more than anything that America was pulling off an elaborate scheme to scare him.
"I wish I was. I really do, but I'm not. So now can you help me think of a way to stop them?"
"Are you mental?" England knew very well America loved his hero complex, but this entire situation was too risky for any of them to handle alone without any back up. "If what you just said is true, we are in terrible danger. We could die fighting these people!"
"Don't you think I know that? I know it's dangerous, but think about it, if those women get out in the world, there is no telling what they could do to the rest of us or our homes. We have to stop them even if it's just the five of us."
"You're concerned," interjected Mexico. "You are genuinely concerned."
"Of course I am. Why would I be?"
"Nothing. It's just I'm surprised you haven't said a joke to bring down women yet."
"The night is still young."
They all heard a screeching scream coming from the shadows where America and Spain entered in. The group of countries huddled together, forgetting their past wars and problems with each other. Right then and there, they were all in the same position about to be attacked. They stood together united even if it was just that one time.
"You got your bat, Mexico?"
"Always."
The attack happened so fast, so fast in fact, that the countries' mind could not register it quickly enough. It happened in still shots. Maya and Inca bombarded them in a surprise attack, using the shadows to their advantage like creatures of the night. Keeping up with the women was nearly impossible like a regular person trying to outrun a bullet train.
Before any of them realized it, Inca hooked up England and France in this thick piece of rope she found in one of the exhibit halls she wondered in before. They fell on the floor, creating a loud thud as they hit the ground. The two countries were back to back, too close for comfort if they had anything to say about it. None of them liked the seating arrangement. They had no time to complain, though. England had a clear view of the attacks whereas France couldn't see a thing with turning his head to the side.
The woman with the long braid continued to the assault on the rest of the group. This time her target was America. She jumped on the American, hoping to knock him down. It didn't go according to plan, seeing as America kept his balance as well as tearing the woman's grip off of him. She fell on her butt, shocked by the young man's hidden strength.
"Sister," She yelled out, "help me!"
And before America knew it, a heavy weight from behind forced him to the ground face down. He managed to move his head to see his capturer. It proved difficult, seeing as her hand held the back of his head in a firm grip. With one eye, he saw the sister called Maya on top of him with a knee digging into his back. He felt her weight crush him. It was nearly impossible to escape her. America never had a problem with someone of equal power, not until now.
After witnessing her sister take down America, the one known as Inca turned her attention to Spain, one of the last who was free from their tricks. All the while avoiding the two women, Spain pushed Mexico behind his back. It was his only way of protecting her. She didn't need it though not when she was armed with that baseball bat. It was just his 'father' instincts kicking in. Inca smirked before she went in for the attack. She seemed pleased with what her brown eyes were looking at.
"Hello Spain," she greeted with a bit of cockiness, "it's been a while." Spain didn't respond. He didn't want to for that would prove to him that she was real, and he didn't want that to be the case. "You don't remember me? What a shame. And here I got excited to see you once again."
"Run for the exit," Spain commanded Mexico to do so under his breath.
Mexico heard him but didn't run for the exit immediately like Spain had hoped. She knew Spain would do something stupid like America and act like a hero to save everyone else. She wasn't having that. Before running out, Mexico grabbed onto Spain's hand dragging him to the exit. The Spaniard was quick on his feet; therefore, he didn't fall flat on his face during their escape. However, the woman was faster. Much faster.
Right before putting his foot in front of the other, Inca swung a rope with two rocks on the ends of it. It tangled and wrapped around Spain's legs and feet. That was when he fell to the floor, almost bringing his former colony down with him.
"Spain," Mexico exclaimed. She hadn't the slightest clue what happened behind her; then she saw the rope and put the two the clues together. Mexico's eyes traveled from where Spain collapsed to his capture. Her head was down, facing Spain still. She looked through her bangs to see the creepy woman giving her the same smirk she showed Spain earlier.
Mexico rubbed her thumb over her faithful baseball bat. That was her only weapon of defense to save not just herself but her friends as well. She took in one deep breath before doing anything rash. It was all or nothing at this point.
Mexico charged at the woman in a position where she was about to smack the woman to oblivion. But as hard as she pushed forward, the bat never hit the desired target. Mexico unscrunched her eyes only to reveal the woman she intended to hit held the top of the bat with her bare hand. Their one shot at salvation failed.
The sight alone made Mexico lose all feeling in her body, causing her to lose all the air in her lungs. The woman was strong, America noticed once Mexico winced when Inca latched to her wrist. But knowing how Mexico was, America knew his friend wasn't going down without a fight first. Mexico yanked her arm away but the woman stood, unfazed by Mexico's actions.
"Oh, you're a feisty one," Inca sounded intrigued, "let me look at your face, girl." Mexico refused Inca's command. She continued to pull her arm away from the woman's grasp. But the resurrected one would not have any more of this nonsense. Inca's free hand grabbed Mexico's jaw. As Mexico resisted, Inca's long nails dug deeper into her skin, never really piercing the top layer of skin. Once Mexico faced the other woman, Inca looked as if she herself saw a ghost.
"A-a," Inca struggled to form the word as she released Mexico from her hold, taking a few steps away, "Aztec-? But—no, it can't be. You're over in the other room. You told me so."
"What? No—no, I'm Mexico. Aztec was my mom. Did you know her?" Mexico knew the question was farfetched, but the look in the woman's eyes said otherwise.
"She should," said Spain, who finally untangled his legs out of the rope. He stood up to take his stance once again in front of Mexico. "She is your mother's sister after all."
"Excuse me?"
"Mexico, I would like you to meet your Aunt Inca."
"Inca…? Inca? You mean the Inca Empire? Peru's mom?"
"Peru? You know Peru?"
A single pair of clapping hands interrupted the developing conversation. All the countries alive and resurrected looked up to reveal Aztec, who wore a wicked smirk on her face, as the perpetrator. The only other sound that kept the room from being engulfed by complete silence came from America who grunted as he struggled to get Maya off his back.
"Well isn't this a touching family reunion." There was a noticeable hint of amusement in the woman's speech pattern as she took a couple of steps toward the nations. Oh how it pissed off America to no end. He desired nothing more than to wipe that grin off her face. "Hello everyone, I hope I'm not intruding on anything important."
"Who the hell are you?" The questioned burned at Spain's every thought since he saw her rise to life in the other room. His feelings of self-pity and regret were discarded as if they never existed in the first place; Spain returned with his mind cleared of all previous emotions, and now only anger pulsed through his veins for the woman who stood in front of him. He couldn't keep his feelings bottled up anymore.
"Has it really been that long?" The woman said out loud. She didn't care about Spain or his reaction to her. She quite enjoyed it from the looks of it. "Do you not remember the people you obliterated off this land?"
The four countries looked at Spain's confused face. He hadn't the slightest clue what this thing was talking about. "What are you talking about? I would have remembered such a foul person. Who are you?" Spain's voice changed from before. He was firm and harsh not like he was with Mexico in which he acted like a child.
"Aggressive already," the woman America identified as Aztec said bothered yet the unfading grin stayed on her face, "that's very rude, but what is even worse is you forgetting who I am. Oh well, it should have been expected from a barbaric man such as yourself. Murderers don't usually remember all the faces of the slain."
"Answer my question, puta de madre," Spain spat out as he continued to explode on the spot. His words dripped with hate like poisonous venom. No one had seen Spain show this level of hostility before, not even England, who had his fair share of quarrels with the Spaniard in the past.
The woman enjoyed Spain's reaction as she continued to toy with the Spaniard. It was as if his reaction went according to plan. It was apparent she was going to milk the situation until the very end, seeing as she had no intention in ruining the surprise yet. "If you insist on acting like you don't know me, I'll give you a hint. And if anyone is able to answer my riddle, you are welcome to help Spain out. It has been a few hundred years since we last encountered one another- 490 years, if you want to be accurate."
Mexico leaned closer to Spain as if to ask him a question over his shoulder. The mad woman's dark eyes landed on her after she finished her speech. Mexico instantly felt uncomfortable. She felt like a pawn in a game as if the woman had big plans for her in the future. "Spain, do you actually know this wack job?"
"Not sure yet." Spain never looked away from the mysterious woman. "I'm still figuring that out for myself."
Aztec's scary look changed from cunning to disappointed but not by much. "Don't tell me you forgot me too, Mexico. It seems this idiot's stupidity rubbed off on you."
That was the final straw. Everyone knew insulting Mexico would get one trip to Hell and back. No way was she going to get shit talked by some stranger. Mexico shoved Spain to the side, finally facing the woman directly and not from behind Spain. She was done playing this woman's games. "Just who do you think you are? You break into this museum, hurt an innocent security guard, attack my friends, and insult me. Identify yourself now, you retched woman!"
The resurrected one only huffed before saying, "it's a pity, really. I honestly thought a smart girl like you would remember her own mother."
Everything for a moment stopped for Mexico. America saw the pain she repressed over the years return to her eyes as they widened after hearing one word. Everything she built up inside her body was unleashed by one single word 'mother'. That scared little girl during the colonization period came alive once again. America could only imagine how much her heart ached and twisted against her ribcage. Her hands shook with the rhythm of her racing heartbeat. Also, her legs trembled as if they turned to jelly. None of her limbs cooperated with her. They just hung lifeless at her sides, shaking. She leaned on Spain for support just for a quick moment. Then, when she regained her composure—most of it anyway—Mexico stood up like the others usually saw during World Conferences.
"N-no," Mexico's voice cracked saying a simple word, "you're wrong. My mother, the Aztec Empire, is dead. Don't you dare insult her in front of me!"
"But in all honesty, the only person who has insulted my memory is you," said Aztec, leaving Mexico in absolute distraught. A small gasp filled with complete horror escaped Mexico's lips covered with her own hands. Mexico felt awful about the thought of dishonoring her mother's memory. All these years, she tried so hard to remember what little memories she had close to her heart. The woman continued to stare down at Mexico as though she were in power, which pissed America off. The woman mocked Mexico and made her feel guilty for no good reason, causing the American to struggle for release under Maya's heavy form.
"But I don't blame you, not entirely anyway. This man over here is the sole reason I was never able to be the mother you so rightfully deserved. To think such a handsome face could hold such terror behind it. He ruined so many lives in such cruel ways. It wasn't just us, my dear. Your Aunt Maya here and your cousin Guatemala could not escape the pain either, neither could your Aunt Inca or her Peru. Tsk… the lives that could have been… they sting rather deep in your conscious, don't they Spain? All those innocent lives sacrificed just so you can gain more riches. That's just a shame.
"But the past cannot be changed. No matter how much we wish to mend it… but onto more current matters, Mexico, my daughter, let me finally hold you after all this time." The Aztec woman lifted her arms out to Mexico as if they were to embrace. However, Mexico never moved closer to the woman proclaiming to be her mother. She just stood there in shock, confused by the conflicting feelings that swarmed her mind.
Mexico's chest heaved up and down as she took in deep breaths. Spain sensed her uneasiness and raised his arm in front of her. America noted how much Spain looked like the protective, authority figure he claimed to be in the past. It was as if the golden years of the Spanish Empire resurfaced in a few seconds. Spain touched Mexico's arm very lightly, hoping to give her some relief of her pain. Only, he just felt her shake under his touch. She was still so young and vulnerable compared to him.
"Mexico," he said not making eye contact with his former colony, "I know you have a lot of doubt in me, but trust me when I say this, that woman is not your mother."
Mexico jerked up, seeing Spain's stern face from the side. She wasn't sure what to feel at the moment. "Why do you sound so sure about that?"
"A good mother doesn't hurt her child, not intentionally anyway."
"How dare you interfere with us again. Have you no shame?" Aztec shot a condescending look at Spain, hearing and focusing her attention on Spain's speech only.
"Have you? Using a daughter's feelings about her mother against her? Now that is a new level of evil I have never witnessed before."
"Ah, the murderer calls me the evil one?" The woman went off on some tangent she had built up over the years she laid in the ground. She was determined to let Spain know how she really felt about him, but guilt would crush Spain's being before Aztec lashed out at him.
Hearing Aztec speak sickened America to the core. He couldn't take another minute of her bullshit. He struggled to shift his body in order to free himself from Maya's weight, but that proved to be unhelpful. Maya sat on his body like a rock. Nothing could move her. America rested his cheek on the cold marble floor—almost as a sign of defeat, but it was far from it. For America began to rethink his strategies on how to escape Maya. The American closed his eyes tightly, feeling utterly useless right then and there. He couldn't help anyone.
Alas, he heard footsteps stepping on the floor. They were different from before as if they were unsure of where to go or take action. America had understood that body language years ago yet the name hadn't hit him just yet. America opened his eyes, seeing all his friends and enemies the same way before he closed his eyelids. He turned his head to where the footsteps originated from. There near the entrance America noticed Mexico's baseball bat. It rolled over in front of where they entered before when Inca took it from Mexico's possession. A moment later America's eyes landed on a pair of unidentified pair of shoes.
Those were the ones the American heard moments before. He looked up slowly, gazing at the jeans, the shirt and then the face he had grew up with during his childhood days. It was Canada, who arrived, yet America wasn't sure if he should be happy or afraid for his brother. Everyone's life was in great peril for they hadn't the slightest clue of what the three sisters were capable of.
It gave relief to America knowing that no one not even their friends had acknowledged Canada's presence. Any slight change of moment or reactions could set off a whole chain of uncontrollable and deadly events. At that moment, America rested the side of his face against the for once more, being grateful for the others ignoring his brother this one time. America loved his brother, he truly did, but people forgetting he existed sure came in handy at times.
However, the stern look in Canada's eyes made America uneasy. Canada never looked away from the target enemy Aztec, who continued to speak lowly at Spain and his past endeavors. The Canadian's hand slowly reached for the metal bat in front of him. Once he held the object in his possession, Canada gripped it as if he were out to bat on the baseball field.
A cold chill of fear surged through America's unmoving body. Canada was about to place himself in a dangerous position, and America promised himself that no one else was going to be put in danger because of his actions. But with Maya sitting on him and watching even his smallest movements, America couldn't even mouth words to his brother to run away. He could only gaze up at him, pleading to not do anything drastic at the moment, until his brother looked down and noticed him.
Luckily for America, Canada did notice his brother and his predicament, stopping him cold. They didn't communicate verbally, but after years of growing up side by side, the two brothers were able to understand one another through small movements insignificant to those who didn't understand them.
America's heart jumped as Maya placed her hand on his exposed cheek, reminding him of the others in the room with him as well. He thought she saw Canada and was about to attack him; however, she continued to sit on him with her head facing her sister Aztec. The conversation drifted away from Spain. It now involved all their lives.
"We must figure out what to do with these extra countries," said Aztec.
"How do you suggest we dispose of them," Maya soon asked, stroking America's cheek with her thumb.
"Quickly, if you don't mind. These two first. I have no use of them," Aztec said in such a calm tone as though it were a part of a daily conversation. She pointed to England and France, finally bringing them into the mix. The North American brothers saw the dismay in their former caretakers' eyes, especially in England's. He was in such a state of disbelief. Never before in his history of being an empire had he been seen as useless before.
The two resumed their silent conversation. Time was running out for everyone. America stared hard at the baseball bat in Canada's hands, and in return, his Canadian brother took note. After, America looked to the corner of his eye as if looking to the ceiling only Canada knew he was signaling towards Maya. He understood America wanted him to attack Maya first in order to free him so America could assist in helping the other imprisoned ones. Only America couldn't signal when he wanted his brother to do such actions.
Canada began to lift the baseball bat in a swinging position. That action caused America to panic. It wasn't the appropriate time to attack yet. There was no other way than to mouth the word 'no' over and over until Canada took notice. Once again- thanks to luck, Canada stopped and became aware of America's actions. This time around America only mouthed 'not yet,' leaving the Canadian ready and armed for his brother's command.
"Oh Sister Aztec," Inca, who showed no sign of involvement in the conversation beforehand, spoke up. "I know this may not be in your plans, but can I keep a man for myself? It'd be such a waste to get rid of so much potential fun so quickly. Plus…" Inca walked over to where the two captured European countries were and grabbed England's chin, turning his head so he could face her. "This one looks like a fun one to break."
"Excuse moi?" That snapped France back to the unfolding conversation. "You choose this guy, 'ere, before me—even over Spain, and America? Surely, I can show you a better time than 'e can!"
England tried his best to shut France up by jabbing him in the side of his stomach. "Shut up," England whispered in a harsh whisper, "you'll just make things worse for us."
"Sorry but I cannot imagine anyone ever choosing you and your monster eyebrows over me."
"Piss off! Our lives are in jeopardy, and all you can think about is beating me? Grow up, France!"
"It's just one of zee many perks of our friendship—"
"Oh shut up, you two," Maya was the first to speak up. She had enough of their bickering the moment they opened their mouths. She wanted to end things quickly. "You two squabble like an old married couple. It's so annoying."
"We won't ever make that mistake again," said England with France nodding in agreement, "trust me, it was not a pretty time for anyone."
"Now everyone just calm down," Aztec spoke as she had a growing headache. She had no interest in the countries other than Spain and Mexico. "Inca, if you insist on keeping one of these countries, I suggest you use this," she said as she threw an object to Inca, who instinctively caught it without any trouble.
"Thank you, sister! How did you know I would need this?" Inca spoke with a cheery voice and a never fading broad smile that only enhanced the twinkle in her brown eyes. She was without a doubt the fairest and most delicate looking of the three resurrected ones; though, the detail of her being a delicate young woman was absolutely false. Inca made grown men who have seen some of the darkest and deadliest wars with their own eyes crumble at her feet. She was a force to be reckoned with, but that joyful face disguised her true power and might.
Her long braided ponytail was browner than the rest rather than the others who had more of a raven shaded hair color. She looked the most European out of the sisters, almost Italian. Now that America thought about it, all or most of her mannerisms resembled that of an Italian. Her movements were strong and determined to get what she wanted. For one, she was definitely more touchy feely like an Italian. Just look at the way she approached England. She resembled a lioness hunting down a wounded zebra that was abandoned by its herd for Christ's sake.
"Since I chose you, let me get to know you before we have some real fun," Inca said, fixing her mirror in front of England. If it had been another woman in a completely different situation, England—and the other male countries for that matter—would have jumped on the opportunity to be with a woman like Inca. Unfortunately for them, Inca wanted to do harm and not in the fun way like she insisted.
"No-! No thank you! I'd rather not. I mean you are an extremely attract-fit woman—I won't deny that—er but I don't think we will be that compatible with one another," England stammered in front of Inca; whether that was because of a beautiful woman showing interest in him or because that same woman was getting a bit handsie with England, the countries did not get the precise answer they were looking for.
"Oh don't be modest. I have no preference in men. I will be everything you want, only if you open up your deepest darkest desires to me. What do you say?" Inca lowered the mirror in front of her chest because it seemed that England wasn't paying attention to it. In order for Inca to get what she desired, she began to play—if that was the correct word for it—or tease England by sliding her hand up his leg, inching closer upwards.
"—stop, please! Your hand is getting really close to my—okay, now it's touching my crotch."
America and Canada locked eyes once again, trying to ignore England's frazzled state and awkward movements as if he had never been intimate with a woman before. America nodded ever so slightly so Maya wouldn't detect anything America planned. As on cue, Canada paced himself as he took a few slow steps closer behind Maya, who still failed at acknowledging the Canadian's existence. It was a rare sight to see Canada show such fierceness in his usually kind eyes. Even as Canada lifted his arms to attack the former empire, it seemed so out of character for America to witness. But the American guessed they shared more similar traits than they were aware of, for Canada was just as strong as his kin when he wanted to be.
He held nothing back as he took a swing at Maya. Oh how the great Mayan Empire fell in one hard hit from Canada. Maya let out a shrieking scream resembling that of what America could imagine as the banshees found in various fiction stories he had read in the past. Another memory resurfaced from America's subconscious. It was when he and a few of his friend encountered a wild cat during their camping trip a few years prior. The bobcat got its leg caught in a trap another group of hunters left behind. The poor animal just moaned in pain, awaiting its slow, agonizing death to come to an end.
That was what went through America's mind as Maya's body fell next to him, releasing him from her crushing weight. An animal, he thought as he got off his knees. Animals don't have a sense of what was right and wrong. They went by instincts alone. With that thought crossing his mind and pushing him forward over and over again, America charged after the leader of the pack—Aztec.
Canada continued his duty to save his allies by rushing to England and France's aid, surprising Spain and Mexico in the process. The indigenous nation Inca stood her ground but didn't anticipate the true strength of the Canadian to arrive so quickly. She was unprepared to attack like she had previously. She covered her face with her arms, cringing away from Canada, right before he knocked her down to the floor.
It was uncustomary for a man to hit a woman, and Canada knew that. He was not raised by hoodlums who had no respect towards women. However, England as well as France thought that tonight was an exception to do such a dirty act to a female. It was all in defense. Hell, they were free of Inca for the time being.
"Canada, when did you get here?" England asked as Canada untied the two from the tight ropes.
"Does it matter? He saved us! Is saving…? Damn tenses."
"We aren't out in the clear yet," Canada said as the ropes fell loose to the floor, "We need to help America and fast."
After he had said his piece, Canada turned to where his brother ran, realizing his words were unnecessary. They heard shuffling before, but it stopped. There where Aztec stood, the nations witnessed America holding Aztec against his chest in the same fashion she held Mexico earlier that evening. It was apparent she didn't have the same body strength as he, but that didn't stop her from struggling.
"This ends now," America spoke in her ear. "Call off the others now. I know you're leading them."
"Maya, Inca, stay where you are and don't attack," she commanded, giving the American a look of utter distaste from the corner of her eye right. The way she said it made America as well as the rest in the room to believe a 'yet' belonged at the end of her sentence. The other two went down on their knees, listening to their sister's words.
"Guys, tie them up," America instructed. And they did with the leftover rope the ancients used on them. "Now," America looked back to Aztec, "tell us how we end this."
"Oh, you make it sound as if it will be that easy," Aztec, a woman in no position to laugh, snickered at America's words. Hating the fact that the twisted woman made fun of him, America tightened his grip on her. The action stopped her for a moment, but it did not faze or frighten her. "Are you going to make me talk by torture…? I'll like to see you try."
"Don't make me do it. I don't want to hurt anyone, especially not a woman."
"I'm sorry to inform you, but I am no ordinary woman." It was obvious even to those who were not close to the two that Aztec struggled to free herself from America's grip. "I have seen horrible things—unforgivable things in my day. Your 'torture' is mere child's play compared to what I've seen."
"You're not helping yourself. I don't want a foul person like you living on this planet anymore. I gave you your life, and I can easily take it away."
Aztec chuckled, leaving an evil smirk on her lips. "Do you understand how childish that sounds?" The countries saw Aztec hit America in his stomach with her elbow, making the country bend forward as he heaved to gain some air in his lungs. She turned with one swift and quick movement, facing him. Aztec lifted a fist directly above America's back and slammed her heavy hand without any hesitation. The noise that America's body made when he hit the ground sounded almost like a tree branch snapping. It made every one of the American's comrades cringe. All they could do was stand back as they witnessed Aztec looking down at America's immobile body with a smile that one could admit was beautiful yet masked by a radiance of evil that no one could ignore. She was happy, too happy to the point where the delight on her face could freeze anyone on the spot. She held no feelings of sympathy for America when she looked at his paralyzed body collapse on the floor.
"You all think the same way," she said, inching towards America. She kneeled in front of him as she lifted his head by yanking his blonde hair. Their faces—so different, one light and the other dark—were so close that America could feel the hairs on their skin brush one another. "Our lives, the lives of the indigenous race, you think they are something that can be owned, used, and controlled for your own benefit. But I'll let you in on a little secret, they don't. They never have, and they never will be. And I'll be damned if I let that happen again."
Aztec finally broke eye contact with America as she released his hair to only let his face slam against the cold floor. Even though his entire body ached, America hadn't the energy to comfort his wounds and growing bruises. He laid on the ground with his back exposed for more of Aztec's attacks if she pleased. But the only action Aztec took part of was letting the vile sneer etched into her face burn into America's memory. Though there was a hint of amusement in her dark eyes when America's blue eyes met hers, this woman was sick and twisted, and America realized it once he saw how her face lit up when he suffered. She was a monster, and it was apparent in that quick moment.
America turned his head slowly to glance and see if his companions were doing better than him. But instead of seeing them fight, America noticed the immeasurable pleasure that emitted around Inca. She and Maya took Aztec's attack on the American as a sign to free themselves of their capturers, and that was the only sign Inca needed in order to fulfill her growing desires.
Inca undoubtedly astounded Aztec with her swift yet graceful attacks. It was like watching a professional ballet performed by the finest dancers found across the globe. She turned on a dime with little effort. If any of the people in the room had a camera, they would have captured some of the most beautiful pictures ever caught on film.
Her first and nearest target was Canada. Inca yanked out Mexico's baseball bat from the Canadian's hands and threw it across the dim lit room. Judging from the look in his eyes, he too was surprised by Inca's strength like England and France were. Canada was no pushover. When he wanted or needed to, he could just as easy show his power to others; however, that was not in his nature. The Canadian was too nice of a character to do something so arrogant. This time as he encountered Inca for the first time he was just caught off guard, thus not being able to defend himself properly. Inca grabbed him by the throat, forcing him to respond to her action.
On the other side of the room, Maya grabbed a hold on France, who struggled to free himself from the demonic woman even if he knew it was close to impossible. If America, one of the strongest countries around, could not match the woman's strength than France, a country that was not at the top of his game nowadays, stood no chance against the Mayan Empire.
The ancient Incan then moved Canada more to the left to where her sister and France were. She was not gentle to the country for Canada struggled to stay on his feet while Inca guiding him by the neck. America's brother reached for Inca's body, hoping to grab anything to set him free of her grasp. He grabbed nothing useful. The only thing Canada's hand came in contact with was the mirror Aztec handed to her earlier. Instead of seizing it in his hand, the Canadian dropped it, but Inca must have not heard her precious object hit the floor since she continued to focus on torturing Canada.
America noticed that Canada was now directly in front of France who was still in a chokehold by Maya. Before they did anything, Maya and Inca shared a look as though they could read the other's thoughts. Inca nodded as Maya held France in front of her.
America could not comprehend anything since the two ancients moved at the speed of light. Inca kicked Canada in the chest as Maya pushed France. The two collided, making a smacking sound like skulls hitting another echo in the halls. The two undoubtedly fell to the floor unconscious, ending those two as interferences and leaving only one left.
Inca set her sights on England. Once the Brit realized he was the next target, he tried desperately to attain Mexico's lost bat in the dark, which proved to be irrelevant. The English gentleman felt a small yet heavy body latch onto him from behind, forcing him to fall face down on the ground. England looked ahead to see the baseball bat in the corner of the room, a few feet away from where he laid. He felt so defeated, almost as if he failed his friends at saving their lives. Now England became conscious that he was in the same dilemma as America earlier, only Maya didn't have any interest in her prey.
"Look at us," said Inca, leaning in close to his ear as she brushed his blonde hair, "alone at last." She sounded in control and powerful much to England's dislike. It was as though Inca and her sisters came alive when others had fallen.
"I can assure you," England said as he turned his head just enough so he could see Inca from the corner of his eye, "I won't be easily defeated."
"Good." Inca cocked an eyebrow with interest, leaning in closer to England. "I like a challenge."
From afar, Aztec couldn't help but roll her eyes in revulsion at what Inca said to the other country. It was absolutely nauseating. In order to rid the disgusted feeling in her mouth, Aztec turned to Spain and Mexico, who were already in Maya's clutches. She observed how Spain inched his way in front of the younger country as if trying to shield her from danger. And there was Mexico staring up, wide-eyed in distress, unable to absorb the idea of her relative being so savage-like.
The woman returned her sights to America, who struggled to stand up properly. His legs were wobbly, but his eyes never wavered from her or showed any doubt in himself.
"It seems as though you have led your friends to the slaughter," she said purposefully antagonizing him to make him emotionally unstable, "and here I only wanted to get my hands on Spain. You seemed to have complicated my plans, America. I have to get rid of them all now."
"I won't let you hurt any of them."
"You sound so sure that you will stop us. Do you honestly think you can stop three of the most powerful empires to rule this land?"
"Of course, I will. I'm the damn hero for Christ's sake, and the hero always wins."
For one reason or another Aztec's smirk had a hint of amusement once she heard America speak. His words humored her as if he were joking rather than threatening her. Before she spoke, Aztec held in a chuckle that begged to be released. "I knew it was an unquestionable fact that idiots set the rules in this world, but this is just ridiculous—you're ridiculous. This is reality, and anything goes. Just look at yourself and your friends and how long it took for your plan to fail. Pathetic. The world grew soft in my absence."
"Or maybe you were just too cruel for the world to handle. Ever think that was why you didn't survive?"
"Is that the propaganda you bought into? I was a monstrous species? Not even sensible enough to be considered human? Oh surely you are mistaken. I didn't come from across the seas to invade, cheat, and exterminate innocent races of people. That was your friend over there," Aztec raised her voice to a harsh tone that hid the hurt her past caused her. The words she spoke came from a deep, dark place hidden inside her mind. She relived the memories as she vaguely described what she dealt with all those centuries ago. Her gaze followed to where America glanced. He looked at England for advice on what to do next. America usually did when he ran out of solutions. Aztec caught on and used it to her advantage. "That man," she spoke up, gaining America's attention, "that country is what Spain was to me."
"What the hell are you talking about?" America seemed as if he was offended at what Aztec said. No way were they in any way the same.
"A conqueror, a leech. You think I only speak of Mexico and the other places Spain conquered in the past. When in fact, you are or were in the same predicament as her. Don't think any of what I say excludes you. We are the same you and I, you and her," Aztec glanced at Mexico.
"We are not the same! We are in no sense the same!"
"Look at you two. Both of you were raised as colonies, raised to benefit your motherland before taking care of your needs, am I right?"
"Stop it."
"So why do you save them now? You revolted and gained your independence through blood, sweat, and pride. If it wasn't for that, I'm sure both of you, and many others in your position, would have never tasted that freedom. I'm sure your caretakers had no intentions of freeing you from their clutches."
"Shut up."
"They killed your land and people, reduced your past to ashes, replacing it with theirs, just like they did here."
America lowered his head, holding all the fury that was building up due to the conversation between him and Aztec. Even from a far, the others noticed how his knuckles were white from America clutching them so tightly. "I said shut up!"
"Oh, did I strike a nerve? Funny thing is, you aren't the last or first. You are nothing special. You were just another land to rob." Aztec was doing her job perfectly and that was making America angry. All the countries knew how vulnerable and unstable America was when he got angry. It wasn't a standard road rage level or 'realizing someone forgot to replace the toilet paper in the bathroom when it was too late to do anything about it.' No. America's fury was deadly. Self-destructive. It rots his being from within, making him both indestructible and vulnerable at the same moment. They all knew it too. Canada, Mexico, England, France, all the countries. They all knew about America and his temper.
Slowly but surely, Canada regained consciousness. He had been entering in and out of reality for quite some time now, leaving him to stare at the ceiling in a daze state of mind. He fell on the floor harder than he had expected. At least Canada had France as a cushion as the two took a dive on the marble floor. France wasn't that lucky, though. The Frenchman fell straight to the ground with nothing to soften his fall, causing him to black out face down on the floor.
As Canada recuperated from his plunge, a massive and painful headache pounded against every nerve where his and France's head collided, muffling but not drowning out the noises around him. The pain caused a ripple effect, starting with the side of his head to the tips of his shoulders. It felt like being stabbed with hot sewing pins.
Once the distracting pulsing noise faded away, Canada heard the dialogue between Aztec and America unfold before him. America's voice became more sinister and harsh as the conversing progressed as Aztec stayed calm, continuing to mock him and those around him. It marked a dangerous point for everyone involved, and Canada knew it must be stopped. He had to stop the evil one from taunting America even more so.
Canada relieved his headache by pressing his palm against his forehead even though every move he made only worsened the tender ache. The throbbing noise it caused resounded throughout the various systems functioning to keep calmness in the Canadian's head, but he worked through it. When Canada moved his head to the door where the ancients used in order to attack the countries earlier, he noticed a fire alarm next to it. It was a long shot to stall time and escape, but anything was worth getting out of this hellhole.
Worry and his nerves got the better of him as he struggled to get up off the ground. Canada did not want to fail his friends a second time. Their lives were hanging on by a thread. He felt weak and powerless. He was not a hero like his brother, a strong empire like England, confident like France, or proud like Prussia. He was just Canada, a man who waited patiently on the sidelines when it came to confrontation. While the Canadian wallowed in self-pity and doubt, his insecurities of the past and present ate at his core. He didn't want to be a failure again.
"Please, Maya," Aztec said, driving Canada's thoughts away from self-infliction, "let me see Spain's face up close. I want to look him in the eyes as I degrade his will to live layer by layer." Aztec's sharp nails dug into Spain's neck the more she spoke out loud. It seemed as though the crazy woman had no intention of killing her victim just yet. She enjoyed the pain in his eyes, but the hurt in his eyes barely scratched the surface of what she wanted him to feel. He wasn't getting off the hook so easily.
As much as it hurt Spain's ego, the evil woman's words affected him more than he would like to share with the others. Nowadays Spain's fellow countries viewed him as a laid back type of guy without a care in the world, but the women in the room- the one front of him more importantly— she with just her eyes, burning with hate, reduced him to nothing, constantly reminding him of the pest he was like a rat struggling to survive by eating garbage, to be exact. "It's a shame. You are now just a shell of what you use to be. My people died for nothing, for your fifteen minutes of fame."
If someone were to ask Canada if he and Spain were friends, chances are the response would be negative. No, the two hadn't talked to one another personally unless it was for a dire situation. However, if one were to ask Canada if he was a decent human being and willing to assist anyone in a time of need, well, the Canadian would jump to the occasion in a heartbeat, eh.
And so he did. Canada leaped to his feet in a split second, ignoring the pounding caused by his head injury. The other countries in the room hadn't even the chance to fathom or even acknowledge what was happening in the room, and Canada didn't turn back to see if they saw him. All Canada thought of was how his brother, friends, and acquaintances were being bullied by good for nothing thugs, and he was forced into a circumstance where he was the only one who could save them.
Nothing enforced his valiant actions more than the overpowering thumping sound coming from his racing heart. It beat faster and faster as it played its own heroic symphony, encouraging him to run closer to the fire alarm. Once his hand reached for it, Canada pulled it down without any hesitation.
The alarm started a chain of events, starting with the unbearable noise it sounded off only triggering the water to spray the people below. Canada never intended to scare the three countries; he only wanted to distract his enemies for a split moment to free his comrades. The fire alarm was an unnatural event to them almost like witchcraft. Sure, the three were more than familiar with rain, but for it to be on the inside when there was a perfectly strong ceiling above them, blocking them from the sky, scared them immensely. Aztec let go of Spain, unsure of what the hell was going on. She looked at her hand to see if the water above dissolved her skin.
Inca on the other hand got off England immediately, screaming as she cowardly ran to her sister Maya, who was the last one of the sisters to react. Maya lifted her arms to shield her head from the indoor rain. The sisters were so frightened by the odd phenomena that they cowered away to an area under the second story that blocked the water from touching them.
The countries who were victims only praised the sound and fueled their excitement, seeing as it stopped the three dumbfounded women from doing any further damage. A wave of relief released America of his worry. He saw Mexico helping up England to his feet after Inca left him. And as for his brilliant brother, Canada tried his best to awaken France, who was just waking up. He felt good. Safe. But their celebration and relief came to a halt. When America noticed how Spain kept his eyes set on Aztec the entire time rather than relax like the others. Aztec's bitter aura became denser and agitated with each passing moment.
"You think a few raindrops are going to stop me and my sisters?" She more or less shouted over the commotion in a voice far beyond outrage and hate, staring at America with her cold, dark eyes. "You are sorely mistaken."
"Don't get all bent out of shape just because you lost," America replied. "Things change."
"You are right about that; things do change but not always or the better. I'm afraid the worst has yet to come." America held up his guard as he spoke to Aztec. It looked like she bared her teeth like a hungry animal to intimidate her target.
Time stood still as the two highly diverse people with completely different backgrounds had a stare down. It could have been seconds, minutes, or hours and the two would have felt no side effects. The crazed woman had enough of all talk and no play. Aztec readied herself to lunge at America. She took a few steps forward to attack him then lifted her arm to swipe America with her nails.
Even though the image of Aztec about to hit him was imprinted on America's mind, the young man never felt her collide with him. From his left side, England came to America's rescue like a beacon of hope, piercing the darkness. In his hands, England held the fire extinguisher that was on the counter of the front desk and aimed it right at Aztec. Without any hesitation, the Englishman released the white foam at the incoming enemy. England's attack stopped Aztec right away. She backed away from everyone and returned to the shadows to the other room. England then pointed his weapon at the other two enemies.
"You have two choices," England announced, "either you can join your good for nothing sister and return to the hellhole you came from or—" he stopped for a moment to think about how to complete his sentence. "I take what I said back. Just crawl back into your graves."
"You think our fun ended?" Inca spoke up, "Well, I would like to inform you that it only just begun." Even from afar, it was noticeable that Inca fumbled to look for an object. When her hand touched her hip rather than the desirable item she intended to grab in the first place, a state of panic overcame her. "Where is my mirror?" Inca asked to no one particular as she looked at the area around her.
Something inside France's mind clicked. Maybe it was because he was unconscious for some time and wanted to make up for his absence, but France felt it was his time to defend his friends. France knelt down in a flash to grab the fallen mirror on the floor. He thought about what to do with it afterwards, but seeing the horrified look on Inca's face made France question the worth of the mirror in his hands. Inca resembled a woman who looked as if she had a gun put to her head. She was overwhelmed with emotions. For the first time of the night since she was awakened, Inca looked powerless. Obviously his old object had more value than previously thought.
France held up the mirror in a threatening manner to fend off any of his enemies' incoming attacks. The idea of knowing the Frenchman had the power to smash her mirror into the ground irritated Inca. She wanted nothing more than to steal her possession back to regain her dignity back.
"You," Inca said as she pointed straight at France, glaring with a look that burned into his skin, "I will get you back."
"I 'ighly doubt zat," France shot back. "I 'ave the upper 'and."
"Not for long." Another odd emotion surfaced in Inca. She looked angry, very angry. It was the complete opposite of how she acted with England.
The fire alarm began its second phase for a loud ringing noise started to play. If the cops were not on their way already, the onlookers nearby would hear the sirens and surround the museum. The countries couldn't have witnesses. It would be impossible to explain the events of that night without looking like an insane person. America took the alarm as a sign for him and his friends to leave the premises.
"Come on," the American shouted over the clamor, almost pushing his friends out the door. They all followed his suit. Fortunately, they were all on the same page, and none of them needed to be told and England lead their friends outside. Meanwhile, Spain continued to act like a father to Mexico by grabbing her hand to lead her passed the doors. France, up until the last possible second, kept his eyes on Inca, who still glared at him with a face that could kill. An itch to attack with basic, survival instincts rose in Inca, but she held back with all her might. Maya must have noticed her sister's reaction because Maya placed her hand over Inca's shoulder as a way to hold her back.
"Please wait, sister," Maya told Inca. "You will have your chance."
Maya's words upset Inca, but she obeyed her older sibling with much regret. Without looking back, America was the last to run out of the museum and the only one to hear the sisters' threat.
And then I decided to make Canada undeniably awesome in this chapter. Sorry for updating so late. I was just focusing on school, developing Mexico and the other characters perfectly, and adding subplots. This is the first of any of my stories to be updated this year so I hope that means a very awesome year of writing and enjoying life.
So yeah, any thoughts you want to tell me.