The Art of Insanity
Part II

It takes skill to be an agent, but only an artist can manage the true properties of Insanity.

I'm not defenseless anymore, no more.
You've built this wall to hide in shame, no shame.
I will not fear your art of war.
No war, it makes me sick, it makes me cringe.
I will not fear your art of war. "The Art of War" by Ill Niño.

They were said to be immortal.

They were said to be invincible.

But even they succumbed to the darkness.

There was no escape from here; he knew that much. The darkness was suffocating him. It was hard to breathe. There was no light. Had he been abandoned? Was there no hope? Where were all of his friends?There's too much darkness...So many thoughts were pulsing in his head, so many were merging one and so many were forging their way ahead to be heard first.

It hurt. He hurt all over. The darkness was pressing in on his wounds; deepening, widening them more.

He felt that if he did not remember who he was, he would be swallowed up by the darkness.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. His voice was gone; weakened immensely by hours of no water.

The man hung his head in shame, holding back the need to cry. There was nothing left. All except...

Darkness. That is all there was and he what was he feared, that is all it would ever be. There was nothing any more.

All there was around him was the shifty loom of darkness and the mere thought of possible death hanging just overhead.

As the saying went, ye all who enter abandon hope.

There was no hope now.

"Alfred, Alfreeeeeeeed. I have come to play~!"

¬/

The man that stood before them did not look like much of a man who was used to joking around often. The smile he held was cruel and nasty and it spoke tales upon tales of cruel things that it had bore witness to. But this smile also bore a weakness: it was far too awkward – like it had been a long time since the last time he had smiled at all. This smile also told that the severity of the situation was no joke. It told them that it knew something they did not. And due to the severity of the situation, whatever it knew was not going to be good for them.

Already acting upon fight or flight responses, Reid immediately went for his gun. This move must have been expected because the bushy-browed man intercepted the agent's move and tsked in impatience. "Sorry lad," He said without a shred of sympathy before going and tipping back the young genius's chair and spilling the young agent onto the floor. "But I simply cannot have you going all trigger-happy on me just yet."

"You're the one with the gun," Rossi pointed out and the man just smiled in response and tapped the magnum revolver against his temple.

"Oh yes, I am the one with the gun here. But," The man's smile dropped and the gun was pointed at Rossi once more, "I know you're hiding him."

"Now, the possibilites of that happening are very low indeed" Spencer answered, sitting up carefully with his eyes trained on the Briton and uprighted his chair before sitting back down. "Who would Agent Rossi be hiding at this hour in the morning?"

"Ivan Braginsky. Who else?"

Rossi glared at the blond man, who just as easily sneered his own nasty glare back. "This is a department designed to study and catch psychopathic serial murderers. Not a keep-out for some of the most dangerous mafia members out there. While I have had the (dis)pleasure of meeting Mr. Braginsky, I have to say that what you're insinuating is perposterous. I must wonder why on earth would I stake my life and my job to hide him here, especially after he's threatened to kill me several times as you so boldly assume?"

The British man snorted. "Why, hell, where else would he be? Ivan dropped off the map only hours after that git disappeared. It makes perfect sense as to why he would come here!"

"How do you know that he came here? What makes you think I actually have had recent connections with the Mafia in the first place?"

"I have spent years dealing with Ivan's well-put Bullshit. And may I say – his bullshit is completely spectactular. Somehow, some-way, the man has accumulated the ability to lie his way out of just about anything. He's a bloody genius in both war and with people – despite having the characteristic of a schizophrenic pot-head. Why else would he come here? Yes, this is a department built specifically to deal with psychopaths and their ways. But Ivan is a psychopath. He's a mad, mad man who is still lost in the years of when he was the Soviet Union! He's bloody kidnapped Alfred before! Of course he would come here!"

"You know that Ivan is a country?" Rossi calmly leaned back in his chair, completely at ease with the situation now.

The British man twitched and swore as he noticed his own mistake. "Oh yes. As I have said, I've worked with the brute for years. I'm the bloody personification of the United Kingdom. Of course, I know the man's a country. A mad, insane and possibly unstable one yes. But a country none the less."

"The…United Kingdom."

"Well, obviously. My name is Arthur Kirkland and I have been sent out by my own government to find that ignoramus of a country and that mad man." With a huff, Arthur put away the gun. "Now, what do you guys know?"

"know about what?"

"Oh herpderpderpityherp. What else is there? Us being countries, you idiot. Honestly, and here I was thinking I had actually come across a pair of intelligent Americans for a moment. Now, do you have any tea? I'm awfully parched and I have a feeling we're going to spend a lot of time together."

Approximately twenty minutes later, it was somewhere around nine and Rossi could comfortably say that Arthur Kirkland – or England, he liked to be called – was what one would think whenever they thought of a British person. The thick eyebrows, the stocky height, the sexy accent, the cynical gentleman-like attitude and the odd tea fixation. It was as if Arthur Kirkland was a walking, talking bundle of stereotypes.

"Well, I'm bloody glad that I didn't shoot anyone," England said with a sip of his tea. "But I can't say I'm pleased with knowing that someone on the outside knows about the secret."

"The secret?" Reid asked.

"Yes lad. The Certain-group-of-people-being-the-embodiment-of-nations secret. I'm sorry if you're a bit confused, after all you have just learned that there really are people who are the personification of nations. I'll promise to explain as much as I can. There is no rule saying that we cannot tell anyone of this outside of our own kind, as I damn sure that idiotic Roman Empire told women (and various men that pertained to his interest) that he was the embodiment of the empire to get beneath their covers. But, really, it really is for the best."

"What about your bosses?"

"Interested, eh?" England chuckled. "Well, I'm not surprised. Actually, I read up on your team before I had come here. From what I've learned, you're a very smart young man. Are you sure you're American?" At Reid's blank stare, Arthur shook his head and sipped his tea. "But yes. The 'bosses' know about us. They normally know, but I must honestly say us nations have very little control over our countries sometimes due to them. Really, this current one of mine thinks that they could rule England so much better. Bunch of Right-Wing lunatics if you ask me! The bloody bollocks they attempt to pass is such ruddy shite and it isn't as if they ask me for their opinion. Noooo! I'm just the bitter old twat with thick eyebrows and has a fancying for embroidering and the ancient magicks!

Arthur sounded absolutely bitter at that point and drained a good portion of his tea in attempts to calm himself down.

"So, I'm guessing there is more to being a nation?" Rossi quested, intrigued by the British man's drastic change in attitude.

"It's no walk in the park, it's more like walking through a mine-field – I can tell you that much. Anyway, we've gone horribly off track at this point. This little meeting of ours isn't about me. It's about Ivan and the missing idiot, Alfred."

"Yes. Who exactly is Alfred?"

"Hmm, well – oh bloody hell, I'm out of tea." The British man put down his cup and looked at the two agents. "Well, why don't tell me?"

Rossi scratched his chin. "Well, from what I understand – he's the nation of America and had disappeared about three weeks ago outside Washington D.C this disappearance has warranted most of the important criminal organisations to search for him. From what I gathered, he has stolen an important article of clothing from I–Russia and–"

"Wait. Wait a bloody minute. Alfred stole something from Russia?"

"Yes, and that's one of the only things Ivan had told me when he had visited–"

"That blood twat!" Arthur growled. "That bloody childish no-good twat face! He said he wouldn't do this again after the last time!"

"Alfred?"

"Yes, that bloody wanker! You think he would learn!"

"Something horrible," England groaned. "That stupid bloody idiot"

"England, what happened?"

"Cold War. Last time that moron stole Russia's scarf, the moron nearly got himself blown up via Cuba! Goddamn, you think he would learn from trial and error!"

"Then who else would it be?"

"Unfortunately, I have no clue and I'm probably sure that even if Russia were here, he most likely would not tell us who was at fault. But," Arthur's eyes went downcast in thought. "It has to be him...It has to! It was him the last time..."

Reid looked at England in confusion. "Has this happened before?"

"Yes," Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It has to be Russia. Russia did this twenty years ago – right before the Soviet Union fell. It has to be him...!"

But even England didn't sound too sure.
¬/

How many days had it been? It had to have been so many. It felt like years. If he ever escaped, would there still be a sun? Would his friends still welcome him with a door to the face when he attempted to get them to go on adventures? Would his friends still be there?Was this the end?

¬/

In the end though, it did not work out well.

England had gotten to meet the team though and had been alerted of the situation.

But it was odd when they had met him. The Briton had talked to the four who did not know of the previous meeting that occurred with Reid and David. He spoke of odd things too, those odd things he spoke of where things that only the one within the B.A.U. knew. Arthur spoke with a gentleman-like attitude, as if sweet-talking his way into something illegal; slipping into cynicism when his memory failed him slightly. He said these things to get their trust, and get their trust he did.

It was odd though.

He knew so much.

The Englishman knew that J.J. had recently had a child and had married a sweet southern detective that had worked with them on a previous case oh so long ago. He knew of how Reid's mother was schizophrenic and had taught some sort of College-level English and he knew of the overwhelming guilt Reid often suffered for having her committed. He knew of Garcia, and her technology prowess. He knew of Emily and her darkened past. He knew how Derek had been the one who the not-so innocent childhood and that the only reason that Rossi had come out of his 'retirement' was to solve the case of a murdered family that had plagued his conscious for years. He also knew, that there had been two others. That there had been two more agents who had left the B.A.U for both selfish and yet selfless reasons. He knew of Elle, who had resigned in a noble-like fashion after her brutal murder of a rapist and how she could not handle the job any more and he spoke of Jason, the former boss that had disappeared and could no longer be reached. And then, when he had their trust (or had them in a trance due to his extensive knowledge of all their pasts, which of course, could come off extremely creepy to others), he had broken the news.

"I am Arthur Kirkland. Personification of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. It's a pleasure to meet you all."

And with that the day had started to continue on, but the pleasant mood that had been set had been destroyed when David asked that bitchy woman he called a boss if he and his team could take on the case. It has been discovered that Rossi and his team could not take on attempting to find the missing junior agent. It is said that they are not allowed because there is no missing agent and that no Alfred F. Jones exists and that if there really was such a person as Alfred F. Jones, he wouldn't be worth the time of the B.A.U.. Therefore, they cannot do anything.

"Bloody hell." Arthur grunted, gentleman-like attitude dropped. "The damn government must of found out that Ivan contacted you already. Damn, they move quick."

"Why would the government want to interfere?" Emily asked.

"Personally, I have no idea. But I think it falls under the fact that humans should not interfere in the affairs of nations. It causes shit to get real, as some would say. And in the case of France, it causes them to get pregnant. Even though I'm particularly guilty of using humans to spy on my foes, it shouldn't be done. But it is obvious that it has to be done or else America is going to be...well, fucked."

Derek looked at the Englishman funny. "I'm still finding it hard to believe that there are actually personified nations, but really, what are we going to do?"

England sighed at this. "I guess nothing will be done until there is proof that Alfred has been kidnapped or hurt. Really, the government just needs one clue and you'll be all set to go!"

"But, what I don't understand is that all Agencies dealing with missing persons have been dispatched to try and find Mr. Jones. Why would the government try to hide his disappearance?" J.J. asked.

"To limit the amount of people knowing that Alfred is missing." England replied. "Or, at least, try to keep it under wraps until he can be found. Not much sense this makes, I know. But Alfred's government is trying to cover up as much as they can. You see, my fellow nations and I have been sent out to try and keep Alfred's enemies from finding out, but we have also been sent out because we're well-aware that the agencies sent out won't be able to do squat about him. Humans shouldn't interfere in a nation's business. Besides, they can't even get in Alfred's house."

"The White House?"

Arthur shook his head "Fortunately not Miss J.J., or else the possibilites of you lot retrieving a warrant would be slim to none. Alfred hasn't lived in the White House since his brother burnt it down in the War of 1812. Instead, he lives just...about an hour from here, over near Arlington. But no, the agents (the F.B.I.'s, not ours) already sent out haven't been able to break Alfred's pass-code. I'm not surprised though and I really don't blame him. Ever since that September 11th of his, his paranoia has gone through the roof."

"It's been three weeks though." Hotchner answered the Briton and looked at Derek, who scratched his chin in response. "Hmm...I bet Garcia could break that passcode easily."

"Perhaps she could. But, I have...attempted that Git's security system. Nearly singed of my damn eyebrows it did! It can only be disabled three ways. Via Alfred's keys, the passcode or manually by hand – and of course, only five people know the code. Alfred, Kiku, Toris and myself. And Alfred's roommate, but he doesn't matter and probably won't ever will. Point though," At this, he looked at Hotchner with a even more serious expression than normal. "If you and your ragtag band of profilers can manage to get yourself a case, I'll work on getting you lot access to Alfred's house."

Rossi nodded and scratched his beard; the small voice at the back of his mind telling him that he was in desperate need of a trim. "That sounds moderately fair. But...What judge in their right mind would offer a warrant for access to the house of someone who supposedly doesn't even exist?"

"Ah, you ask a rather excellent question, Rossi. But, I'm afraid I won't be able to answer you. All I have to say is that no one will question your presence at the house." Then, the Englishman looked down at his watch and swore. "Oh bloody hell! This ruddy Rolex. I was supposed to be gone ten minutes ago! Well, it has been lovely meeting you chaps, but I really need to be off."

"I'll lead you outside." Rossi offered, standing up and following England out of the door.

"Thank-you."

"You're welcome...But I'm curious. How did you get inside in the first place?"

Arthur gave him a sly look out of the corner of his eye as they left the room of profilers. "A wizard never tells his secrets."

"Don't you mean–"

"I mean what I mean," Arthur answered with a flick of his wrist. "But I do wish you and your team good-luck from here on out. I don't know if you'll get the case or not, and Russia isn't exactly a fluffy charac – Jesus Christ, that goddamn frog!"

Without warning, England shot away from Rossi with such quick speed and stormed up to a rather good looking slender blond man that was leaning over the receptionist's desk with a coy look in his eye. "You damn twat! I told you to stay in the car and not come inside!"

The man said something to the receptionist and turned to look at the British man, looking horribly offended at both Arthur's nasty language and crass attitude towards himself. "Moi? Well, mon cher, you're the one who took so long! A man of my fine background can only be kept waiting oh so long and with such a lovely woman right before me, how could I resist the temptation?"

"You're French! You have no fine background!"

"Casse-toi! Take that back!"

"Make. Me."

The Frenchman's look turned lecherous. "Is that a come-on Arthur? L'Hon-hon-hon~"

"You and bloody 'hon's'! Keep it in your pants for once, Francis!"

"Oh, but the true romanticist inside of me begs to free!" Francis started to tug dramatically at his rather fancy clothing. "These clothes restrict me!"

"Don't you dare!"

The predatory gleam returned to Francis's blue eyes. "Why? Are you already jealous of my body? Oh silly L'Angleterre! Just because I have the body you want doesn't mean you need stop everyone else from basking in my beautiful glory!"

"Is it me or did your ego get twice its normal size?"

Then, suddenly, France stopped trying to undress himself and placed his hands on Arthur's clothing instead. "Take them off, Arthur! Show the world your true beauty!"

"W-What? The clothes stay on, Francis!"

"But everyone knows they look so much better on the floor!"

"I don't care! Let go!"

"Undress!"

"No!"

"Oui!"

"No!"

"Oui!"

"No, you bloody cunt-sucking frog. I will not get undressed!" And with that, Arthur flung himself at Francis and the two clashing nationalities literally fought themselves out of the door; screaming nasty insults all the while.

Rossi weakly touched a hand to his forehead. "I really need to take a vacation."

~.

Hope was just a myth. It did not exist. There was no God; there was no ultimate being that watched and guided them all. There was just too many reasons to stop caring.

But he was a hero! He couldn't just give up. It wasn't in his nature. To admit it was in his nature was to spit on the graves of those who helped make him – the ones who helped make him the failure of a country he was today.

But how would be escape? How would he survive? He could only go so long without food. He was a nation though.

He had to survive. For his people.

But sometimes, even that didn't seem like enough for him.

~.

Only three days later, the break they needed came.

{xxXX{II}XXxx}

This break did not come in the form of a person, like they had feared. No, instead it had come in the form of a well-written note inked down with bright red ink on some sort of papyrus paper and an old jacket. They were both clues – both very, very important clues.

And just enough to score them a case and a warrant.

The two clues were just enough proof. The jacket was found out to be Alfred's favourite, having been with him for years. The dark fur around the collar was matted - as if it had been through the dryer several times, the leather was cracked, the letter '50' was peeling and there were patches all over the place; Like the wearer had been shot and had the hole the inside though, there were bloodstains and attatched to a particularly large was the note

'He is cold, he is lost. Remember, the answer is always where one least it expects it to lay.' And scribbled at the bottom was Alfred's address.

"The writer is obviously not used to writing in English." Emily said, holding the note up with a rubber gloved finger. "The words are slanted and thick, but also slender and have a sort of grace to them – much like people of Slavic origins. These words are not used to English."

"And who ever wrote it, wrote it calmly." Derek pointed out, running his own fingers over the back of the papyrus-like paper. "The lightness of the writing means that he wishes to express their point clearly; and the red ink they used points out that they wish for attention and they wish to express their point clearly and loudly."

Emily pursed her lips. "I think its a man."

"A guy?"

She nodded to Derek. "I've never really liked much of the Slavic languages, but my mother writes often in Ukrainian. And when she writes in English, her writing is much like this – but there is a difference. Her words are often more slanted and more thin than these. Big but thin – not thick and graceful as the note makes. It is probably safe to assume that whoever wrote this is a Slavic man."

Reid looked somewhat worried at this. "That means–"

The genius suddenly cut himself off to turn and look to see who was entering the room now. It was David Rossi, looking as grim as usual. He sat down at the table the team was gathered around and looked at the note being held in Emily's hand before speaking. "England isn't coming."

"Did something come up?" Reid asked.

"His government called him back – something about idiots and trespassers. I don't really know, but he promised that he's sending another in his place someone by the name of Kiku."

"Didn't Arthur mention someone like him when we met him?"

"I think so Reid. Didn't he mention that one of the very few people who could make it into Alfred's house was himself, Alfred's roommate, Alfred himself, someone named Toris and another named Kiku?" Then something dawned on the elder agent's face. "I wonder...What the possibilities that this new person is himself a nation as well?"

"Extremely high." Emily answered.

"Not to mention that Arthur doesn't exactly like 'human interference'." Reid added in.

Derek scratched his chin in thought; the sound of the nails grating against the chin's hair making an irritating sound. "Kiku's...A Chinese name? Maybe he's the personification of China?"

"Current US relations with China aren't exactly that great." J.J added in. "He's probably Japan."

"Maybe," Hotchner said. "Anything is possible."

There was a sudden knocking on the door and Garcia came in, looking rather confused. "Sirs...There's a man here to see you?"

"Garcia, that's the receptionist's job to tell us that." Rossi told the confused techintican. "...And why do you sound confused?"

"Well, I didn't find him in the lobby..."

"Where did you find him?"

"...In my lab. I swear I didn't let him in!"

Rossi raised an eyebrow at this. "Did he give you his name?"

"Well, um, yes... He told me that his name was Honda Kiku and well...I kinda just left after that."

"And you just left him there?"

Garcia made a face. "Sorry sir. But, how else would you react to a strange Asian you've never met or seen sitting in your lab, and it is only nine in the morning?"

"What else did he tell you?"

"...You're probably not going to believe me."

"Try me." He's been harassed by a scarf less mostly alcoholic Russian and was nearly shot by a sober Englishman with overly thick eyebrows. There was practically nothing that could phase him any more.

"Well...He...told me...? He told me was the nation of Japan."

Yep. Nothing.

¬/

How long would it take them to find his corpse?

¬/

The man they met was not an odd man and did not stick out. He looked normal, he talked with a slight eastern Asian accent and he looked like a normal Japanese soldier. The only thing truly odd about his apperance was uniform – it was a World War II Japanese naval uniform. Honda Kiku at first did not seem like an odd man, nor did he seem like one that was harbouring a dark secret. He seemed like a typical humble Japanese man.

Of course, this is what set David on the offense.

He was noticing a pattern. Each character that claimed to be a nation seemed to act like the personification of that country's stereotypes. Like, Alfred had been said to obnxious and loud and only showing intelligence when it appealed to him; Ivan was big-nosed and was big-boned and seemed to have an addiction to Vodka; Arthur had been tempermental and was a cynical gentleman with bushy-brows and the named Francis had been 'spreading his l'amour' to everyone much like a Frenchman.

Other than that, he seemed normal.

Until he spoke to the team of course.

Awkwardly, Kiku shook hands with Rossi and gave a small bow. "My name is Honda Kiku. You must be David Rossi."

"Yes, and this is my team. I'll assume you'll be the one taking us to Alfred's home?"

The Asian nodded. "Ig- Arthur-san could not make it and he apologises for it... He has told me much about the situation and you do not have to worry about having access to Alfred's home. Arthur-san has securred it so that only you are the federal agents on the premises."

"Understandable, but this is not the place to talk. We should get to his house before our time runs out. How long do we have?"

"From noon to six."

With that, the team of six and the nation started to make their way outside; five of the members staying silent as they had done when David had conversed with Japan, who he noticed was walking awkwardly. He was standing as if he was not comfortable talking with strangers. His back was straight – far too straight – and his hands were at his sides as if he did not have any other place to put them. His face told it all though. He was emotionless as far as others could see; his lips hanging in that space between a smile and a frown and his brow set, but it was his eyes that told everything.

His eyes told stories. A lonely sea, souls forgotten by lost gods, years of mindless wars, endless heartbreak spread throughout a mountainous world, the sudden fear of losing the last sanctuary, untrust, and a period of vast lonliness where his only comfort had been himself. The stories seemed to be endless and they continued to get sadder.

When they made it to Japan's car (a small, tiny white car with silver rims of course), he bowed towards Rossi as if in apology. "I am sorry if I have offended you."

"...For what?"

Kiku looked confused for a moment before shaking his head. "For appearing in your co-worker's lab. The receptionist had not been in and I heard some man talking about duel processors..."

It took a moment for David to realise that Kiku was talking about how he had ended up in Garcia's room. "It's fine..."

"How did you get in there anyway?" Derek asked. "Garcia normally leaves her room locked when she leaves."

Before Japan could muster a reply, Spencer suddenly broke from the team and walked towards Japan's car and peered through the slightly tinted windows. "...Who's in your car?"

Japan blinked in confusion before giving a soft exclimation of rememberance and smiled softly. "I had forgotten about him. That is Greece-san. He likes cats...But how did you know if someone was in my car?"

"For some reason, I could hear meowing...And is he another country?" Reid questioned before peering back into the car. "...And there's a severe amount of cats in your car as well."

"Hai. Greece-san is my partner and no, those cats are not mine or his.. All nations parpictating in the search must be paired with a partner for safety, as we do not know yet if the person who kidnapped Alfred is only going to stop at him. But we must go, as you are all losing daylight. Alfred's house is a well-size but he has so many memory-rooms that it is not hard to get lost. We must get going, I am sorry."

{xxXX{II}XXxx}

Obsessively, Russia petted America's rather fat...animal: Mister Snuffaluffagus. Sometimes, Russia had to wonder if the animal was even an animal sometimes, but both Lithuania and America had claimed that it was definitely of some type of Cat. Whatever kind of cat they did not know, but Russia had the feeling that neither really cared.

To his left stood a shaking Lithuania, who had begun to alternate staring between the rather large bay window that decorated most of the wall and Russia. He stopped petting the large creature in his lap (who much to his digress was crushing his legs as well) and looked to the Baltic. "Something wrong, Lithuania?"

The Baltic shivered under his stare and Russia momentarily wondered what was wrong. Did it suddenly get cold or something? But he shrugged it off and continued to stare at the Baltic country.

"W-Well...Japan told me that the B.A.U. would be coming over at sometime today and I do not really think it is safe for you to be here–"

Lithuania was cut off by a sudden onslaught of childish laughter coming from the Russian nation. Ivan continued to pet the large cat and looked at Lithuania with wide eyes. But what Lithuania noticed that it was more as if Ivan was staring through him then staring at him. It was as if Russia was attempting to peer into the deepest part of his soul with those eerie violet eyes.

"Silly, silly little Lithuania!" Ivan cocked his head from side to side as he tsked the other nation. "Of course I know it is not safe for me to be here, yes? You seem to forget that I always have a plan. And even with such situations as this with that Yeblan missing! I always have a plan – whether it causes deadly harm to other participating parties does not really concern me as long as I get what I want in the end!" A mad glint entered his eyes. "And I always get what I want, isn't that right Lithuania?"

"Y-Yes sir.."

"Excellent, comrade! But, I do think you should be go getting ready and hiding Tony, da? After all, I don't think the Agents would be too fond of finding an Alien around the place and Alfred would be less than pleased having found out that his room-mate has been captured and returned to Area 51 on returning."

Lithuania nodded and started to leave before Russia suddenly exclaimed something and called back for him. Slowly, the Baltic turned around to spot a smiling Russia.

Now, Toris has been a witness to many of Mr. Russia's odd smilings. But this one, truly, it did take the cake for being the creepiest of them.

It almost looked like Russia from smiling from the bottom of his heart.

"Oh yes, Toris. Do not worry about me – I will be fine. I only plan to surprise that young one...He seems like a strong one, does he not? He will be fun..."

As Ivan descended into mad ramblings, Lithuania took that as a cue to leave. With a bow and a polite smile, the Baltic left to return to his duties.

Russia continued to pet Mr. Snuffaluffagus; the animal only curling into Ivan's touch as the long, slender gloved fingers continued to dance down its spine. Ivan knew though, that if he had not been wearing his gloves – the animal would had shied away from his cold touch.

But it was the closest thing to Alfred he currently had left.

"Oh this will be fun. Very, very fun..."

{xxXX{II}XXxx}

It was a quick ride, for an hour long ride, but it really had been helpful to have Kiku take them to Alfred's place of inhabitance. Alfred's house was in a valley of streets and would have been impossible to find without some sort of guidance. The house itself was not hard to miss, but the street had been as it had been a dead end in amidst a sea of dead-end roads.

The house was nice and appeared roomy. A three storey home with a colonial look to it and a partially fenced in backyard while the rest of the end gave way into a tangle of forest. After parking in Alfred's extensive driveway (where an orange 1954 Ford Convertible with the top pulled up was gathering dust), the team got out of the car and made their way over to where Japan was struggling with something in his car.

The Asian stood up and looked at them and nodded. "Please, give me a moment." He told them before leaning back over to get something in the trunk.

"Something up?" Derek asked, peering into the trunk and spotted the large bag of cat food that Kiku was attempting to pull from the back of the trunk.

"Alfred has a cat." With a small grunt, the Asian pulled out a massive bag of cat food out of the trunk. "I have given been the responsibility to feed his pet until he returns of course."

"...When was the last time he was fed?" Derek asked.

"Yesterday. I am afraid to say that he manages to eat a whole bag in a day."

"You're kidding right?"

"No, I unfortunately am afraid that the cat's diet puts a severe damper on my–" Japan's attention suddenly drew somewhere else as the sound of a door slamming was heard. A curly brunette with a double curl on his curl and green eyes exited Japan's car and blinked sleepily at everyone.

"Japan...You make so much noise..." The man gave a yawn and sauntered towards the Asian. "And the doctor said you shouldn't be carrying...such heavy things."

He spoke softly and spoke with a soft accent and was slightly hunched over as if he did not have enough energy to stand. He pulled the heavy bag out of Japan's hands like it was nothing and smiled at the Asian, who only stared back in annoyance.

"I may be over two-thousand years old but I am not an invalid yet!"

Greece ignored him and looked at the team, stopping only for a few seconds to stare at each of them before returning back to look at Japan. "...Who are your friends?" A large yawn erupted at the end of his sentence and he blinked sleepily. "Are they here to help...America...?"

Japan nodded, obviously still slightly angry with the Greek for having taken the bag from him. "Yes, Heracles-san. They've come to see the house."

"Which," Rossi interrupted and looked at his watch. "We only have a few hours to see. Do you think you could hurry it up a bit?"

"My apologies, Rossi-san." Japan gave a deep bow before standing up straight and looking straight at Greece, who only sleepily looked back – probably still having no idea as to what was happening. "Come with me, Heracles-san." And on that final note, Japan started towards the house, but before he could get too far away, Greece latched his only onto one of his hands and allowed himself to be pulled along by the Asian.

J.J. watched the odd pair leave and weave their way towards the house, with Japan trying to get the keys out of his pocket and attempting to get Greece to let go of his hand at the same time. Of course, Greece just kept smiling and had attempted to help Japan in finding his 'keys'. From her standing point though, it looked like the Greek was attempting to throw in a few sneaky gropes as well. At this moment though, she only had one comment: "Odd couple."

"I wonder..." Reid mumbled, looking down at the ground. "Possibly...?"

"Reid?" J.J. A waved a hand in front of her co-worker's face. "Um...You alive there?"

The young genius snapped out of his trance like he had been electrocuted . He shook his head and smiled at the blonde. "It's nothing. Just an idea that had bubbled to the surface." Reid clapped his hands together and falsely smiled. "Should we get going now?"

David looked at the younger agent with a hint of scepticism. "Yeah...Sure. We better get working on this quickly. We only have a few hours time left."

And with that, the team made their way towards America's house; well unaware of the dangers that lied within.

Immediately, they had found the room where the struggle had definitely taken place.

Because definitely people did not have doors nearly ripped off their hinges and doorknobs missing for pieces of odd pieces of house decorations - Nations or not. The destroyed door had been a sign that something bad had taken place here.

Inside the room was a office that appeared to be much like the Oval Office, but instead it was more of a hexagon shape with papers everywhere and pictures splattered the now-tattered wallpaper which had been a vibrant green colour.

The strong mahogany desk was smashed in two, broken picture frames littered the floor, a broken Samsung plasma television had been ripped off of its wall stand and had been thrown into the adjacent wall with violent force, and bloodstains had been smeared across the walls, as if someone had taken their fingers and rubbed the red substance all over with them.

"It looks like a war had occurred in here."

That of course is the first thing said when they see the room.

Japan nodded sadly. "America-san adored this room. It is his third favourite room next to the kitchen and the room of memori – what's that?"

"What's what?" Rossi inquired of the small Asian, who moved forward and towards the smashed desk. He pulled a tissue out of the Kleenex box that had fallen to the floor and picked up something that rested on the cracks of the split desk. "It's... A set of Keys?"

Attached to the keys was a note, written in a bold bright red ink that weaved itself across the papyrus paper.

The second clue had been found.

He is held in the darkness, bound by his own misery. A key sets him free physically, but he is still bound by his mind; by his everlasting torment. There is no light.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Well, uh yeah, 7,000 something words. Took me a few weeks too.

I really don't know what I say. I horribly hope I have these guys all in character. The criminal mind characters are all probably fucked up but that's because I have a severe problem with writing about characters played by irl actors.

Just do.