Gilbert bit his lip to muffle cries of pain, his every step through the hall was met with an egregious amount of effort. His legs felt like iron weights, only serving a purpose of slowing him down. He belly-crawled his way through the hallway, sweat beading at his brow. He wasn't exactly sure what time frame the Russian bastard was giving him to send Italia to him, but since he kept Ludwig as collateral, in any case the Italian would have to show up, or else…

I have to keep moving, for bruder's sake…

I have to protect Veneciano…but how?

He growled in determination, heaving breaths of oxygen as he doubled up his crawling speed, hoping to gott that he could appease the Russian and save his brother.

Stopping at their dormitory, Prussia shouldered the door open, inwardly grateful that the Italian was napping at the breakfast table, unaware of his dilapidated state. Gilbert strained to meet the height of the table where Veneciano slept, grabbing Italia's cell phone with his teeth. Scooting himself into Ludwig's private quarters within the dormitory, Prussia allowed the door to close behind him, and he quickly began to dial the first number on the contact list. Time as always wasn't on his side, and the clock was ticking.

Stout apple trees swayed its branches slightly in the wind, sending the fruition of its labors cascading to the loamy ground. The sun shone irritatingly bright, humidity tempting sweat to snake its way down the man's pale skin. He wiped sweat off his face, grumbling about the uselessness of gardening and contemplating throwing a few apples he'd collected at his moody companion's head.

"Oy, we're collecting apples for Arbor day, not dropping them so they can spoil, stupid git!" His moody companion shouted in the wind, steadying the ladder leaning against the thickened trunk of an apple tree so his younger friend didn't fall on his arse ungracefully.

"What the fuck is Arbor day?" the younger man asked loudly, smirking as he "accidentally" dropped a few apples on his friend's head. "This is just as widely celebrated as Canadian Boxing Day in my lands, this is such a waste of time!" he threw the last of the apples into the basket, descending the ladder.

"Stop the complaining, learn your own holidays, ya?" The older man scolded half-playfully. "I swear, I'm like a walkin' almanac for you, America." He smiled, ruffling the young one's hair as the blond locks blew back in the wind.

America shrugged the man off, straightening the glasses perched delicately on his nose. "Whatever Arthur, pshh…blaming a hero for forgetting a stupid holiday?" He lifted the basket of apples over a shoulder, proceeding towards his house.

He paused for a moment, lowering his basket to the ground clumsily, apples spilling over into a puddle of muddy soil.

"Bloody git!" England cursed, rushing forward to salvage whatever produce escaped the dirt.

America paid him no mind, pulling his ringing cell phone from his pocket, flipping it open. "America speaking."

His confident smile fell, a stony look upon his face. "Mhm."

England looked up out of curiosity, abandoning the spilled fruit to dust himself off. Alfred was never this serious over the phone, usually obnoxiously loud. This must've been an unusual call.

"Here's the thing, though. I really can't promise you any success though, considering who we're dealing with…well no shit, Sherlock, your enemy is absolutely bat fuck insane." Alfred snapped, running his fingers through his hair. "I'll do what I can, but remember, disobedience must be avoided at all costs."

England grew highly suspicious now, eavesdropping to his greatest ability, but to no avail. The person on the other end had a fast, angry manner of speaking and was very hard to comprehend.

"Look, just calm down and get yourself to a medic in the meantime, and stall sending Veneciano to that disturbed psychopath for as long as possible, and I'll do what I can." Alfred barked. "Remember, you owe me for this, bastard." He clicked the phone shut, striding pointedly towards the mansion with doubled pace and vigor.

"…What in all hell was the meaning of that?" Arthur shouted after Alfred, barely catching up with his hasty friend.

"That was Prussia, oddly enough." Alfred answered, proceeding into his private business quarters with Arthur. "He's in a bit of a bad spot, he's dealing with somewhat of a hostage situation."

England laughed aloud. "What's the idiot done now, have his vital regions been seized and captured?" he chuckled, following America into his office.

"No, he's made enemies with Ivan Braginski, and Russia's got Germany as collateral and Italia on the way." Alfred retorted.

Arthur demeanor grew gravely serious, taking a seat next to America solemnly. "What d'ya suppose we do about this, you do realize who we're dealing with, right?" He asked, feeling his insides contort at the mere thought of going toe to toe with the one man Russian demolition derby.

"Yep, I do, but we cannot ignore something as serious as this. Do you realize the impact on World Affairs would be disastrous if this turned out badly?" Alfred panicked, struggling to keep his cool by quickly downing a nearby can of Red White and Blue Bull Energy on his desk.

Arthur nodded, stepping out of the room quickly. Grabbing his own cell phone, he placed a few calls of his own, his hands shaking as the phone connected the call.

Time was of the essence, every second counted. For the sake of his country, it had to be done.

Ivan paced in anticipation, his wonderfully comforting scarf trailing in his wake. He was positively thrilled. His plan had taken so many twists and turns, and yet the result was still both pleasurable and unpredictable. It made him salivate to merely think about it. Ludwig was safely concealed in the basement room, and his next pawn, that Italian dunce was on his way. Ivan knew intrinsically that Prussia couldn't afford to disobey his orders, he'd never sacrifice his brother to protect the Italian.

Suddenly roused from his introspecting, his cellular phone vibrated within his trench coat pocket dully, demanding his complete attention. He flipped the phone open boredly, not bothering to check the ID of his caller. Like he needed to guess.

"Hello?"

"H-hello.."

"You called?"

"Y-yes, it seems you should tread carefully in your endeavors with Germany and Italy, America intends to stop you at all costs."

"I see."

"Y-yeah…now that I've done what you asked, I've given you plenty of time to prepare a defense for yourself. So please remove your troops from my lands, and don't lay a finger on Amer-!"

Ivan clicked the phone shut, giggling uncontrollably. Excitement swelled in his chest, he felt so alive, like never before. His little game was supposed to only antagonize the Axis powers, but to manage to pull in some Allied powers in one fell swoop into the melee, it was an ultimate victory for Russia.

Pocketing his phone, Ivan walked to the multi-lock enforced door, opening it a crack to peer down the hallway. No sign of Prussia nor Italy yet. But since Prussia was a tad disadvantaged, Ivan figured since he was in such high spirits, he'd give Gilbert decent time to send Veneciano.