Thunder echoed across the land, confusing the British people. They were far too use to their weather changing at irregular intervals but to have a storm of this power was rare. Usually, their storms would last a matter of minutes (though the rain could last all day). It was frightful. Lightning already hit the top of chimneys and they were advised to keep inside if they could which just added to their long list of things to complain about while inside their homes.

Not everyone was taking to the warning - naturally. Impatient people who were in need for money went to work regardless of the dangers causing traffic jams. People were advised to remain in their cars in case of further lightning strikes. But the really reckless ones were those who walked outside without a concern. That was only one person who was far too use to shitty weather to care - especially since it would do him no harm at all. But it was beginning to annoy him. He longed for warm weather (admittedly, he should not have gone to Britain if he wanted that).

His backpack was drenched but he had no concern for that either. The clothes inside would be easy to dry. Very easy. Literally just one little finger movement would be all it takes. His shoes were squelching against the pavement with every step. It was fortunate he could not catch a cold - the thought never even occurred to him.

He paused by the street corner. A flash of lightning lit up the name. He was in the right spot. He tugged the backpack further up his back and walked at a slower space down the path, looking out for the number. The house arrangements changed frequently with nations due to their inability to age. Regular people would be startled and fearful to see someone who remains the same age for many decades. Which was why many chose to have their main home further away from the cities.

15...17...19...21. Bingo.

Alfred stopped outside the gate. Loud music was heard as if someone was competing against the thunderous roars from above. This plan was not going to backfire unlike yesterday. Arthur avoided him the entire time and he knew it would be meaningless to get close while there were so many distractions around. This time, it would just be them.

He walked up to the door and slung his wet bag upon the doorstep before ringing the bell. It took a couple of goes till the music stopped and he saw a blurred figure approaching. The door opened and a disgruntled Arthur stood there. To Alfred's delight, he was wearing his typical punk style clothing - including a tight pair of black jeans that revealed the legs and butt flawlessly. He clearly wasn't expecting company which delighted Alfred further.

"Britain!" he said cheerfully, pulling Arthur into a tight embrace and soaking him in the process. "I missed you!"

Arthur stuttered and shoved Alfred back. "You bloody idiot! We saw each other yesterday! Why the hell did you come here? What's going on? Why are you standing out there in a blasted rain?! Get inside before you catch a cold! You didn't even think of using a damn brolly did you? Not only did you come here unexpected, you're going to get sick and make me look after you!"

Grinning through Arthur's rants, Alfred stepped inside and dropped his bag onto the staircase. He shook his head, spraying water everywhere. Thankfully, Arthur didn't notice because he was closing the door and fussing over the water dripping onto the floor. But something made the Brit suddenly stop talking.

His eyes lingered on Alfred's clothing; damp and tightly clinging to his body, revealing muscles underneath. Every part of his body was urging him on, wanting to touch and stroke and -

He hadn't noticed how close Alfred was getting until he felt the American's breath upon his ear. "Do you like what you see? If you ask nicely, I'll take it off."

His hands held on to Arthur's upper arms, his lips grazing over Arthur's earlobe and down to the side of his neck. Alfred could feel the pulse rate increase just like before. Arthur's breath hitched and his hands shook as they raise up and clenched hold of the wet material. His head inclined to the side slightly, giving Alfred better access to the sensitive spots.

It was too easy. There was little challenge when it came to getting into a pervert's -

He stumbled back suddenly, caught off guard by Arthur's forceful shove.

"You're sick," Arthur scolded, cheeks burning red. "See what happens when you walk in weather like this. Don't you dare say another word," he warned when Alfred opened his mouth. "You march yourself up those stairs and take a hot bath. I'll find some dry clothes for you. I was going to order take out but the phone line is dead so now I'll have to heat up leftovers for us."

Alfred smirked. "I wouldn't want to ruin your stairs. I'll undress here!" Before Arthur could protest, Alfred shrugged off his jacket and then tugged the shirt over his head and dropped it down carelessly. "Want to help me with my pants? ~"

"..." Arthur smacked him around the head. "Get up those stairs now!" he threatened. "Or god forbid, I will... I will kick you back out there to freeze! And it will serve you right. Now move!"

The American pouted. His thumbs rested on his belt-buckle. "But Arrrrrrthur -"

"Piss off."

"Maybe another time then." He shrugged and winked. "The offer is up whenever you want to accept it! Just don't leave me hanging." He avoided a second slap coming his way and bolted up the stairs, three at a time while laughing cheerfully.

"Arsehole," Arthur muttered. What had possessed Alfred to behave like that? Twice now he tried to corner him into awkward situations. Maybe it was teenage hormones? Whatever it was, he hoped it would stop soon before he did something they may both come to regret. He sighed and looked sadly at the bag leaving a small puddle of rainwater. Why did everything have to be made complicated?

Everything was numb but it came as a blessing. He could no longer feel the pressures on him or the tearing of bony fingers through his flesh. His mind had stopped a long time ago to spare him the agony of what was happening to him. He was shutting down – slowly but surely. Maybe… Maybe he could die here, he had hoped. He could die and regenerate back home in the States. Please let him die and disappear far away from here… Please…

"Don't be a fool. You cannot die here. It's impossible."

A sound… A sound that didn't come from him. Was someone speaking to him? A stinging sensation shot through his head as his mind tried to jump start itself.

"You're given up already? How pathetic. I've seen mortals last longer than you. I expected more."

America opened his mouth but only a dry rasping noise came out. Just who was mocking him? He forced his eyes to open as far as they could. Still darkness. There was no sight of a new comer. The voice was a strange one: it was coming and going as though the person was drifting around instead of remaining still.

"Mocking? I can mock if you insist. It's always fun to kick when down. However, time is pressing on and I shouldn't linger any longer than I have. It's already been ten days."

No…! America thought desperately. He didn't want to be left alone with just his terrifying thoughts. He wanted out of here. He wanted to leave and never return. He wanted to be back home where his comics, video games, and hamburgers were waiting for him.

"Aww. You're so adorable when you're pleading. But… I don't give without taking. It's not in my nature. I will help you only if I receive something of equal status. Tell me… what wouldn't you pay for the price of your freedom? No… Let's leave that as a surprise for later. Would you be willing to accept my charges?"

He'll accept anything if it got him the hell out of here. Anything at all!

"Perfect. Now, hold still like a good boy."

Something was wrapping around his waist. It felt different from those hellish creatures. It was a source of warmth that made him want to reach out and hold onto with all his remaining might. Yet his body hung limp as he was slowly lifted up, slipping out of the bonds like they weren't even there. As he rose higher and higher, he could feel a faint, barely acknowledgeable, breeze. He could taste his freedom. It had never tasted so sweet before.

Then, quite suddenly, he was falling. Unable to see the surface beneath him, he wasn't able to brace himself for the impact so hit the ground with a thud. His head was swimming in fresh pain but he didn't care. He was free.

Yet, as he laid there sprawled out on the floor, he realised that there was still an endless sea of black around him. It held none of the intimidation like earlier but he still felt the goosebumps rise on his skin.

Air slowly returned to his lungs and he greedily inhaled it. Wherever he was, it felt better and safer than where he had been. Someone had gotten him out of that mess and yet he didn't see them. The voice he replayed over and over again in his mind sounded highly familiar. Well, America had an angel watching over him somewhere.

"Hello?" he called out, pushing himself up into sitting position. "Hey? Err… Thanks dude - whoever you are. Now errr… do you know the way out of this place too?"

No reply.

America sighed in frustration. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead onto his knees. Now it was definitely up to him. Trouble was, America's survival skills weren't as sharp as they had been before for he rarely had the need to use them in the first place so wasn't as knowledgeable on the subject as others.

He knew he needed to make contact with someone. He also needed to find a safe location to make camp (he really didn't want those creatures finding him again) and also needed to collect food. Oh god, he was so hungry!

He searched his pockets for anything he might still have on him. There was no weapon though he could have sworn he brought one with him when he left the house earlier today and also, to his biggest disappointment, had no food on him. Someone must have taken them from him when he was passed – when he was recovering from shock. However, he did find his phone and the lit up screen was a welcomed sight. His eyes widened slightly in surprise. Was the date shown accurate? If so, he had spent almost two weeks here.

The American frowned. Now he was free to think clearly, he tried to place the pieces together. From what he remembered, he had left the house shortly after dinner (pizza!) because… because…? Oh! He wanted McDonalds! No. That wasn't it. He would have never left the house without his gun – only he didn't. America could recall grabbing it in a hurry before running out. Something had chased him out of his house. No. Something had scared him out.

The image of the blue-eyed clone made him shiver. It had been haunting him even when he had ran out of his house (he thought it might have been built on an Native American burial ground). But the clone had had followed him. They had confronted each other and America was about to finish him off when … when something had smashed into him.

Oh god.

He was dead!

That thing must have discovered a way to kill a nation and went after him! America was now dead and – Wah! This didn't look like heaven at all! What did he do to get in a place like this? He always opened the door for elderly (even when China slammed it back into his face) and tipped extra amounts! True, he didn't go to church as often as he use to but he did more so than the European heathens!

"Calm down, dude!" America whispered loudly. "I can get out of here. I'm America! No one can keep me locked away for long." But where was that blue-eyed clone? Was he a freaky omen of death or – No! America laughed weakly at scaring himself shitless. He had this all wrong! He wasn't in hell! He was on a spacecraft! That freaky dude was just a poorly made imposter trying to steal his country's military secrets then use them to plan an invasion! Sneaky aliens! It all made perfect sense! Flawless logic! And he could easily defeat any invading aliens. He always did in his movies and didn't he single-handedly save the world from those Japanese aliens? All right, so he had a little backup help from sidekicks then but the point remains the same – he was a butt kicking machine of pure awesomeness!

With his ego now restored and his energy quickly returning as a result, America jumped up into action and sprinted through the darkness, his phone held out to lit up his path. He'll get out of here! And then he'll expose that alien for what it really was!