I've had this ready & uploaded for, like, a week, but FF's been having problems, so...

I am terribly sorry, I had most of this fic plotted out in a notebook a couple months ago, but I appear to have misplaced it, either the notbook or the notes. (I have about ten billion notebooks.) On the plus side, I've discovered some three-year-old notes for alien civilizations. If I can't find my notes set #2, someone please remind me that it's in the green spiral-bound notebook that has a cover with the letter "w" on it and contains notes on some abandoned projects of mine.

Anyway, what follows is my attempt to salvage my notes.

Also, sorry for any OOCness.

Switzerland had finally finished stuffing a fraction of his gun collection into the small bag Prussia had provided. Idly, he wondered who his co-terrorist was and what he was packing. Hopefully not France or Spain or – God help him – Liechtenstein. He did not want his little sister to have to kill people, and felt torn between hoping her to get shot early (so as to miss the pain that later on would certainly bring) and hoping her survive to the end (so she wouldn't get shot).

…

"Veh, Doitsu, why are you crying?"

"I- I'm … happy. My brother has never come up with such a good idea before", Germany said as he dabbed his eyes with his handkerchief, waiting for Italy to start driving them to theie destination.

…

Pointless chitchat. Nervous giggles. An antsy atmosphere. Just like wartime.

Evening came. Time to (finally) go to one's room and receive the instructions. Hopefully some clothing, too, otherwise one would be feeling rather uncomfortable what with all the sweat being absorbed into them.

England had been sitting alone, yelling a bit at America every now and then when the git got too annoying. Now he was sitting on the bed of his allocated room, twiddling his thumbs. No shower, but there was a change of clothes in the closet – jeans and a plain gray t-shirt – acceptable, amazingly.

A thunk. England leaned over to pick up the package.

A letter attatched. He decided to read that first.

"Iggy!" England cringed at the form of address. "You are a … *cue drumroll* Member of ... the BLUE ARMY! Your mission is to: Hunt down and kill members of the Green Army. Your pistol has been provided. Further instructions will be provided at a later date."

The letter was signed "The Awesome Prussia, aka Gilbert Weilschmidt, His Imperial Awesomeness of the People's Democratic Republic of Awesomeness."

England groaned.

…

Lithuania opened his letter. "Liet! You are a *cue drumroll* CIVILIAN! Your mission is to: Gang up with the others to find the terrorists, then survive. Your pistol has been provided. Further instructions will be provided at a later date.

"The Awesome Prussia, aka Gilbert Weilschmidt, His Imperial Awesomeness of the People's Democratic Republic of Awesomeness."

Lithuania sighed, mentally regretting agreeing to this getting shot at business.

…

"As you know, Finsky, you're one-half of the terror duo. The other half is Switzerland. You shall meet at 22:00 on the roof and then go forth and kill Canada, I need him to run the treasury. After this strike, you shall be free to pick your targets yourselves. Good luck."

…

Finland had dragged his whole weapons bag up to the roof five minutes early, and was now waiting for Switzerland to turn up.

"Sorry, I had to sic Liechtenstein onto Hungary under the guise of having a headache", Switzerland said when he turned up at five past.

"No problem. I say we first see our inventory, then decide how to kill Canada, if that's okay with you."

"Yes, dammit, you don't need to ask my permission to do the sane thing!"

"We are a team, you know. Anyway, I have some Molotov cocktails, my Sako TRG-42 sniper rifle, my Tikka T3 Tactical rifle, a Rynnäkkökivääri 62, some handguns and a grenade. You?"

"My three Sturmgewehr 550s, a shotgun, an optical sights, a flamethrower and a Molotov cocktail."

"You use optical sights?"

"When I have to snipe, yes."

"..."

"You don't need sights?"

"Well, if the time when I shot a Soviet soldier from a kilometer in heavy glare from the snow is any indication..."

"Wow."

"So, snipe Canada?"

"Who's he?"

"I... think he's on the American continent. Not sure, though."

"I... think I remember. Looks a bit like America? Polar bear?"

"Yes. So, snipe or no snipe?"

"Snipe. Infinately easier."

…

Canada had received a letter from Prussia informing him that he'd been selected to run the place with Prussia, and to do so, the terrorists would first have to kill him.

What amazed him most was the fact that someone had remembered him. The fact was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

A bullet hit him.

…

"Nice shot", Switzerland commented.

"Thank you."

A moment's silence. Switzerland broke it. "You know, we just killed someone. Shouldn't we... I don't know... Honor him?"

"Ich hatt' einen Kameraden?"

"No... Not really that mood..."

"What then?"

"Vita brevis breviter in brevi finietur, Mors venit velociter quae neminem veretur, Omnia mors perimit et nulli miseretur. Ad mortem festinamus peccare desistamus.

"Do you truly feel that sad?" Finland asked, now concerned, trying to shake off Switzerland's singing. It had been... Beautiful would have been an understatement. He damned his lack of English vocabulary and the lack of one-to-one correspondence between Finnish and English. That had been, in his mind at least, the perfect example of haikea, sad and distant yet beautiful.

"It... Fit the mood. We were mock-killing a fellow nation of ours, after all."

A/N: Yes, I actually researched the rifle stuff.

Sako TRG-42: fires .338 Lapuas, can have a range of a mile in the right hands, 5 or 10 round magazine. Finnish, also used by at least the Swiss Army (according to snipercentral).

Tikka T3 Tactical: .308 ammo, cheaper than the Sako, 4 to 6 round magazine. Also Finnish.

SIG SG 550 (Sturmgewehr 550): Used by the Swiss Army, range 100 to 400m

Rynnäkkökivääri 62: Used by the Finnish military.

Swissy's singing a memento mori, translated here:

Life is short, and shortly it will end; Death comes quickly and respects no one, Death destroys everything and takes pity on no one. To death we are hastening, let us refrain from sinning.

Ich hatt' einen Kameraden is a German military lament, known in english either as I had a comrade or The good comrade. Has a Wikipedia page (Ich_hatt'_einen_Kameraden).