Yay! Another update! :D I know, it's short, but the scene in the movie is also short. I tried adding dome OOC Austria in there with some crack pairings. Tell me what you think! :D

Repotalia!: The Genetic Crack Opera

Chapter 2—"Things You See in a Graveyard"

England resided in the tallest building in London, GeneCo. He loved his new kingdom dearly, and the only thing he loved more was that he was at the top of the world, as both a country and a human.

However, lately his subordinates had been acting quite… different than from, say, a century ago. He called Germany, Austria, and Prussia into his office due to a few rumors England was having Italy and Romano look up.

Speaking of the devil, there they were. Since the epidemic, England had appointed them as his personal bodyguards, and had taught them to become silent and reserved rather than the loud, obnoxious brothers they used to be.

Their faces were cold as they walked toward England in tandem. Sure, their outfits were quite out of the ordinary, with their shorts, fishnets, leather boots, blazers, and graters, but they kept their straight faces all the same.

As they approached England's desk, Romano pulled out a transparent folder and handed it to his boss before he and his brother resumed their usual places behind England.

England opened the folder to find that the rumors of his subordinates were indeed true. The first picture was of Germany, his face contorted in anger. He was holding a knife, and beside him was one of the human Genterns, dead and covered in blood.

Outraged, England shot a death glare at Germany, who gulped nervously, twiddling his thumbs.

"You disgust me," England spat before flipping to the next picture.

Austria stretched out on the couch he was laying on, smiling lazily to himself. He loved how even though he was prim and proper in front of the cameras, he could truly be himself everywhere else; in this case, he was a cross-dressing, drug addicted scalpel slut, and he liked that.

Speaking of which, he needed to ask Graverobber for some more—

"Is that who I think it is?" England exclaimed, his face beet red.

Startled, Austria replied, "Who do you think it is, England?"

England held up the picture and Austria blushed. So he'd basically do anything for a hit of Zydrate, even let America fuck his brains out, but really, how bad was that? With his constant surgeries, Austria needed some way to get rid of the pain.

And it wasn't as if the picture was that bad. It was only of Austria bending over against a wall, his clothed ass pressing into America's crotch.

… Okay, it was pretty bad. But at least America's face was hidden. God knew how insane Austria would go if he couldn't get his daily Zydrate hits from his "business partner."

"Hmph." Austria stuck his nose in the air. "Well, it's not him. I don't associate with anyone in the Underground Resistance," he lied.

"That'd better be true," England snarled through clenched teeth before turning to Prussia, the next photo in hand.

England sneered. Though Austria was the one who had changed the most mentally, Prussia had changed the most physically. The only thing that distinguished him as… well, himself, were those piercing, crimson eyes and that white hair. With a new face almost every day, sometimes England couldn't recognize him. But here it was most definitely clear, the way Prussia was cutting the face off a pretty girl.

Prussia gestured to his new face. "Ain't it awesome?" He smirked.

No longer able to take it, England slammed down the folder. "You… all three of you! Out!" he exclaimed, his face as red as a tomato.

Germany stood dejectedly and immediately complied. Prussia snorted and rolled his eyes, but soon followed his brother obediently. Austria, however, acted as if England hadn't said a word.

"Did you not hear me, Austria? Get out of my sight!" England repeated.

"Aw, darling, surely you don't mean that," Austria cooed, standing. He walked over to England's desk and tucked a stray strand of loose blonde hair behind his superior's ear. "Do you want me to do something about how stressed you are?" And with that, Austria bent over England's desk and shoved his tongue into the blonde nation's mouth.

For a few seconds, England felt himself give in to Austria's ministrations, and he moved his tongue against his subordinate's. For a moment, he felt like bending Austria over even further so he could fuck him senseless, just to relieve some stress.

And then he remembered he was mad at Austria.

England promptly pushed Austria away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking quite disgusted at both himself and his subordinate. "Ugh! This is the third time. Leave me alone, you cross-dressing whore!" he bellowed. This time, Austria obeyed, his heels clicking on the marble floor, his hips swaying, and his fluffy white feathered train bouncing slightly. His bodyguards, Hungary and Belgium, clad in exactly what Italy and Romano were wearing, followed silently.

Sighing, England rubbed his temples. Everything was driving him insane.

The elevator opened, and Italy and Romano clicked off the safeties in their shotguns. The timid doctor gasped, holding a clipboard in his hands.

"Enter," England mumbled.

Gulping, the doctor approached England and, with a shaking hand, handed the powerful country the clipboard. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Kirkland, but… I'm-I'm afraid it's terminal," he stammered.

Well, that was certainly the news of the century. England looked over the transcripts carefully. Sure, he'd been coughing quite a lot lately, but that didn't mean he was going to die. Nations like himself didn't cease to exist so easily. But since the epidemic, it seemed as if almost anything was possible.

"Y-you don't have much time," the doctor continued. "It's… spreading rapidly."

This, along with his subordinates' behavior, was more than England could handle. He slammed the clipboard down and motioned to Italy.

Italy, the now-loyal bodyguard, picked up the handgun strapped to his garter and shot the doctor directly in the forehead. England couldn't help but smile; he still couldn't believe he's tamed the crazy Italy brothers to do whatever he wanted.

"Let's go," England commanded, standing up. He, Italy, and Romano boarded the elevator. Leave the cleaning to the Genterns.

"Sir…" Italy piped up. "What are you going to do with this news? Who will you leave GeneCo and the New British Empire to?"

England snorted. "Oh, wouldn't you like to know?"

But Italy made a point. Who would England leave his empire to? Whenever he thought of a country, they didn't seem able enough to keep the empire up and running as vigorously as he could.

"Maggots… gits…" he mumbled. "You want the world for nothing. Commence your groveling. The New British Empire is dying. Even Great Britain cannot prevent this passing. Who will inherit the world? I'll keep those vultures guessing."

It'd been seventeen years since England had someone with the potential to take over the empire, but it was too late to contact them now. He had to find someone in the near future, or else the whole world would fall after he was gone.

Well, yeah. Totally OOC. But this is a Genetic Crack Opera; what did you expect?

R&R! I always reply back because of my excitement. XD

Next chapter: "21st Century Cure" We see what Japan and America have been up to for the last thirty years. America is now the eccentric Graverobber, and timid Japan is forced into hiding once again. Will England be able to find him?