Chapter 3

August 11, 2011

"You stupid git! Give that back!" England snapped, lurching at Scotland.

Scotland, who was a good head taller than his youngest brother, laughed and waved the mess of yarn and needles that he'd seized. "Come and get it, little man!"

England gave a scream of fury and tried to jump up to reach it. "You're going to tangle it up!"

"Who even knits anymore?" asked North Ireland, sitting comfortably in an armchair and watching the whole thing.

"Shut up!" said England. He was regretting inviting his brothers over.

"I mean, aside from old ladies."

"Shut up!" Yes, he was regretting it very much. Why in the world had he thought a family get-together was a good idea? When had he sustained sufficient head trauma to come up with the notion?

Sealand, who had been amusing himself in the corner in some way or another, laughed. "Jerk England's an old lady!"

"I AM NOT!" England had even less clue why he invited Sealand along. Yes the little brat was his younger brother, but it wasn't like England had acknowledged him or anything! Anyway, wasn't the boy Sweden and Finland's problem now?

"Quiet down, will you?" Ireland called from the kitchen. "You'll wake up Wales!"

England glanced at Wales, who had been asleep on the sofa for the past half hour. "I don't think he's going to be getting up anytime soon."

"Didn't know you cared about Wales's rest, brother dear," commented Northern Ireland.

"Say what?" asked Ireland, carrying a jug of milk into the living room.

England felt a headache coming on. "What are you doing with that?"

"Carrying it. Any more stupid questions?"

"Yes. What will you be doing with it?"

In response, Ireland walked over to the sofa and overturned the jug on Wales's head.

Wales woke up quickly enough at that, crying out in surprise. "Pen pidyn!" he screamed at Ireland, as Scotland and North Ireland doubled over laughing.

England smacked Ireland on the head. "What the hell is the matter with you? Not only did you ruin my lovely sofa, but that was the last of my milk!"

"And he got me all wet!" added Wales. This was ignored.

"Alright, fine, I'll pay for the sofa," said Ireland.

"Damned right you will. And you're buying me more milk, right now!"

Ireland blinked. "What, right now, right now?"

"This very second. Go on, get!"

"You have got to be joking."

"I most certainly am not. Move!"

Ireland rolled his eyes, as England pushed him towards the front door. "Imeacht gan teacht ort, little brother."

"And the same to you, dearest big brother," said England. "If it's any incentive, I use that milk for my tea. I can't have my tea without it. So unless you'd like to see me in a tea-deprived state of mind…"

In five minutes, Ireland had on his shoes and hat and was running for the nearest grocery store.

Northern Ireland gave England the thumbs-up. "Good to see you stand up for important matters, brother."

"Shut up," said England. He tried to throw himself sulkily onto the sofa, but the parts that weren't covered by Wales were splattered with milk. So instead, he threw himself sulkily onto the ground. Almost immediately after doing so, he sniffed the air. "Is it just me, or does something smell odd?"

Scotland sighed. "I told you, little brother, this is what happens when you eat cooking like yours."

"Not that kind of an odd smell, you tosser!"

"Hold on a minute," said Wales. "I think England's right."

"England? Right about something?

"Shut up, Northern Ireland," England snapped.

Wales rolled off of the sofa and crawled next to the heating vent. "I think it's coming from here," he said, giving an experimental sniff. A second later, he collapsed onto the floor.

His brothers jumped up in panic and began to hurry to make sure he was alright. They made it about two steps before they too fell unconscious.

In his home in Kyoto, Japan looked out the window and smiled. The cherry blossoms were lovely at this time of year. There was nothing better than strolling through his garden and enjoying the view. He was glad Greece-san was coming over today for a visit. It was such a beautiful day! Japan could not wait to show off the scenery around his house, and Greece no doubt would find the perfect spot for a nap.

The sound of footsteps at the front door broke Japan out of his reverie. "Greece-san?" he called, heading toward the sound. "Is that you? I have something to -"

He broke off when he reached the front door. The footsteps did not belong to Greece.

Instead, he seemed to have been visited by two men dressed in high-collared, long-sleeved business suits, in spite of it being such a warm day.

The two men smiled at Japan in a way that was not very reassuring. The Nation wracked his brain, trying to think of a reason why businessmen would be visiting him. Government officials he could understand, but he knew they were not working with his boss.

"Honda-san, ohaiyo gozaimasu," said the first man smoothly. There was a small scar over his right eye, which gave him a predatory look.

"May I help you, gentlemen?" asked Japan. Stay polite. Do not show emotion. That was the Japanese way.

The two men began to slowly walk towards him. Japan fought the urge to back away. To not show weakness or retreat from threats - that too was the Japanese way.

"Please, Honda-san, do not be alarmed," said No-Scar. "We are here in regards to delicate matters concerning you."

Japan narrowed his eyes. "Matters such as?"

Scar-Man flashed another smile at Japan. Without saying a word, he raised some handheld device level with the Nation's chest and fired.

In a heartbeat, Japan dodged to the side. Something shot out of the device and flew through the space he'd been standing at seconds before. It embedded itself into the wall and crackled with electricity.

A taser.

There was a katana hung on the wall at the opposite side of the room, and Japan raced for it. The men were in hot pursuit though. Just as Japan closed his hand around the weapon, another taser was fired.

This one hit its mark. A steady flow of electricity rushed into Japan's back, and he collapsed to the ground with a yelp.

He did not plead or beg or cry as one of the men pinned him down, straddling him to prevent kicking, and clamping onto the Nation's wrists. The force of being violently thrown down left Japan's face smashed against the hard floor, and the man on top of him made it impossible to sit up. A second later, the other intruder grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, so he was looking up.

Japan continued to struggle, even though he couldn't move at all. This was wrong, so very wrong! They had to leave immediately! Greece would be there soon, and Japan would not let his friend be caught as well!

Something was sprayed into Japan's face. In seconds, he was unconscious.

Italy knew that poor Germany was a mess. It had been months, and he had still not recovered from the shock of being convinced that Prussia had faded away. Perhaps he still wasn't convinced. Italy saw the gleam in Germany's eyes when there was a knock at the door, or the way he would leap for the phone when it rang. He knew what was running through Germany's head. It was the same thing he thought after Grandpa Rome vanished. There hadn't been phones or the internet or any other modern-day communication methods of course, but Italy had nursed the hope that one day his beloved grandfather would come back and save him from the big, scary countries that always chased him. It was not until he was living in Austria's house that he finally understood that Grandpa Rome would never be coming for him.

Italy didn't blame Germany for holding on to that hope. If it were Romano that disappeared, Italy had a feeling he would never accept his brother's fading. But he said nothing of this to Germany. He was clever enough at least to know that his friend was trying to hide his sadness. Instead, Italy tried to cheer him up however he could. He invited Germany over constantly, tried to get him to play games, and even brought him a cute kitty to cuddle!

Germany had improved slightly, in the year following Prussia's disappearance. He smiled a little more and sometimes even went back to barking orders at Italy. Still it seemed like nothing could cheer him up, and that upset Italy to no end.

But at long last, the answer had come to him. It was so obvious, so simple, that it was surprising it hadn't hit him sooner. Pasta! That was what Germany needed to be cheered up!

It would be a surprise, of course. He'd cook all sorts of pasta as a present, and Germany would be cheered up!

He had meant to set out early in the morning to get the ingredients for the pasta, but he slept too late and Germany woke up before him. He couldn't have the pasta be a surprise if Germany was awake to see it being made, so he gave up on his pasta breakfast idea in favor of Plan B - the pasta midnight snack.

So that afternoon, under the cover of avoiding his training, he snuck away. The plan was to go to his house, get everything needed to make delicious pasta, and cook it that night, while Germany was asleep. It was a perfect plan!

As he passed by an alley though, there was a sound. A sound which completely distracted him from the task at hand.

A sound that went "meow".

"Kitty!" cried Italy, running to find it. He found the cat perched on a garbage can, licking its fur. "Such an adorable kitty!" he cried, trying to hug it.

The cat responded by hissing, squirming out of his arms, and running off. As Italy tried to figure out what scared it away, he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He turned around to see that several men had come up behind him in the alley.

"Buona sera!" he chirped. "I'm Feliciano! I don't think we've met before. Have we? No matter! I like meeting new people. How about we go and get some pasta? I like pasta, and there are a lot of good places to get so -"

He was cut off as something was sprayed in his face and he passed out.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Austria. Thank you for having me over."

Austria smiled, as he saw Hungary to the door. "It was a pleasure," he assured her. They always had such good times meeting for tea. No amount of time could ever change that.

There was an awkward pause as the smiles slid from their faces. This normally would be the time when Prussia would jump out of the bushes (or wherever he'd been spying on them from) and laugh about idiots with crushes and how Austria should grow a pair and kiss Hungary already. Then, Hungary would beat him with her frying pan while he laughed and ran for it.

But Prussia was gone. He'd been gone for a year.

Austria reached out and took Hungary's hand in his own. "Until tomorrow?" he asked, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Hungary smiled at the gesture. It took her back so many years, when she had been taken in to be Austria's maid and, even though she hated being anyone's servant, he would talk to her like she was his equal and never insult her like that stupid Pru -

No. She would not let her mind go there.

"Hungary?"

Hungary blinked. She realized that she'd been staring off into space, lost in her thoughts. Austria was watching her with concern, probably wondering what was going on with her. "Tomorrow sounds lovely," she said, smiling.

She set off down the road, trying to think about anything but Prussia. Her economy needed work. She'd slacked off horribly in the past year. Her boss was getting impatient, though she knew he was trying hard to hide it. Hungary had only explained her depression as one of the things "her kind of people" dealt with, when she last spoke with him. He wasn't happy with it, but what else was she supposed to say? How could one properly describe how it felt to lose a... a friend who'd been around for centuries? How could she say how much it hurt, knowing that she took it for granted that Prussia would always be around? And - wait... was that truck following her?

It... it was! She hadn't been paying attention before, but now she could see that it was moving slowly enough to match her speed. The roads weren't very crowded, so there was no one to honk their horns or scream at the driver for holding things up and thus no commotion to get her attention.

Why would someone be following her? Were those people sent by her boss? No, that couldn't be it. If her boss needed something, he would just call. Whoever her stalkers were, they had no business bothering her.

She quickly turned down a side road. It was a lot smaller than the main road and, with any luck, it would deter whoever was following her. At the very least, the smaller amount of road space would make it more difficult for a truck to go after her.

But no. She glanced over her shoulder, only to see that the truck was still going after her. She grit her teeth. Whoever this person was, they picked a bad day to bother her. Ever since Prussia disappeared, she'd had no one to vent her frustration with or on. This person would work nicely.

Hungary turned again, this time down an even more out-of-the-way street. She stopped walking and faced the truck. "Alright, what do you want?" she snapped. "I know you've been following me! What's going on?"

The truck slowed to a halt. For a moment, all was silent. Then, the truck doors all burst open and a group of tough-looking men jumped out.

Hungary hadn't been expecting so many, but that didn't bother her. She'd kicked the entire Prussian army out of Austria's vital regions years back. She could take a group of idiots who thought attacking her was a good idea.

The narrow road worked to her advantage. It was pretty much impossible for them to surround her, and it let her punch them in a nice, orderly fashion as they got close enough. She hit the first one in the face, and grinned as she heard a crunch. He'd be needing to have his nose fixed up. The next one got her right hook to the eye, and the third got punched in the chin.

The fourth guy wasn't as stupid. He caught her by the wrists and managed to resist all her efforts to break free. She gave a shriek of and kicked him where she knew it would hurt the most. He gave a cry and fell to his knees, his grip on her weakening. Grinning madly, she pulled free and turned to see who was next.

A second later, something hit her in the chest and she couldn't see couldn't hear, it hurt, hurt, hurt, no!

And suddenly, she was on the ground and couldn't remember how she got there. She had just enough time to realize that one of her assailants was kneeling next to her head, before something was sprayed in her face and the world went dark.

"Oh Canadaaaaaa!" America called, barging into his brother's Acton house. "The awesomely heroic America is here!"

There was no response to this, much to America's displeasure. Nothing annoyed him more than being ignored. Even the usual groans of "Not you again!" that nations gave him were better than silence.

Frowning, America began searching the place for his brother. "Canada? Hey, Canada? Where are you?"

"Who?" a small voice called back.

America grinned at getting some sort of a response. "Who's there?" he asked, trying to find the source of the sound.

"Who're you?"

"I'm America, the awesome nation to the south!" He went into the living room and began scanning. Sofa, chair, chair, fireplace, coffee table, white dog... wait a minute. He looked at the fluffy, white animal on the floor. "Was that you talking, just now?"

The dog looked up at him. "Yes."

"And who are you?"

"Kumajiro."

"Oh." The dog didn't seem very talkative. America found himself quickly losing interest in it. "Do you know where Canada went?"

"For a walk."

"...And?"

"In the woods. He should be back soon." The dog looked up at him. "Who is he, again?"

America grinned. "He's Canada, and I've come to visit him. Where's the woods he's walking in?"

"Backyard."

America trekked through the house and looked out the back door. Sure enough, there was a forest at the far side of the backyard. He was just wondering if it would be awesomely heroic to go in and surprise Canada when he heard a God-awful screaming.

"What was that?!" America shouted, jumping back and nearly hitting his head on a kitchen cabinet.

"Probably an animal," Kumajiro sleepily called from the living room.

An animal? America couldn't remember hearing an animal ever cry out like that before, but it could be some strange, mystical Canadian animal he'd never seen. Besides, he couldn't think of what could make a person scream like that, outside of participating on some game show.

Whatever it was, it robbed America of his desire to go look for Canada in the woods. He walked back to the living room and plopped down on the sofa. His brother would be back soon, anyway.

Kumajiro ignored him and began to snore.

The yakuzo had been removing all forms of identification and electronic devices from Japan (and he certainly had a lot on him) when they heard someone knocking at the door.

The intruders froze, before glancing at each other. The first slowly shook his head at the second. The message was clear: Don't answer the door. Let whoever it is leave on their own.

Unfortunately, the person seemed disinclined to cooperate. "Japan?" came a sleepy voice. "Are you in there?"

Both of the men cringed. Their target was having company? Why hadn't they been informed of this possibility?

Between them, the agents scooped up Japan and retreated to a back room. Minutes later, the visitor got the front door unlocked and ambled inside. "Japan?" he called again.

No-Scar tried not to groan. They'd been warned that their target had a group of friends, who knew him by the nickname of "Japan". They were in some sort of underground organization, most likely. No-Scar and his friend hadn't asked questions at the time, especially after hearing how much they were getting paid.

This did get No-Scar wondering, though. Ignoring the quizzical look from his partner, he pulled a small device out of his pocket. Their client had given it to them, along with the first half of their payment. According to the client, the people in this weird group had some sort of identification, like a tracking beacon. The device was able to detect that beacon. It was led No-Scar and Scar-Man to Kiku Honda in the first place. Now, he held it up to see if it reacted to this person as well.

It began to gently beep, and No-Scar smiled. Bingo.

Scar-Man blinked, realizing what No-Scar intended to do. He gave his partner a stern look, clearly meaning No! Stick to the plan!

No-Scar shot a look of his own back, one which said It's too late, he's here now, we might as well kidnap him while we have a chance. He prided himself on his nonverbal skills.

Scar-Man heaved a silent sigh and propped Kiku Honda against the wall. He couldn't think of any argument to that, especially since they knew that their client wanted as many members of this organization as possible. Word was that members of several yakuzo had been hired to go to places like Taiwan, Thailand, Vietnam, and even North and South Korea, for similar purposes. There was no reason why they should pass on this opportunity.

The yakuzo set about arming themselves. Of course the only knock-out gas they brought was in spray bottles. It would have been to easy to have a canister to just lob into the room the newcomer was now poking around in. Still, they had the element of surprise on their side. They'd manage.

Spray bottles at the ready, they made a dash for the man. He managed to cry out "Wah?!" before one of them held his arms behind his back.

Unfortunately, the seemed to have better reflexes than his previous sleepy appearance on. As Scar-Man held up the bottle to spray him, he received a kick in the hand from the man. The spray bottle went flying across the room, giving the man a chance to break free of the hold he was in.

The yakuzo scattered and tried to come up with a good counter-attack. Scar-Man opted to dive for the spray bottle, while No-Scar tried to restrain the man. The man gave a roar of fury at that, and somehow caught No-Scar in a brutal wrestling grip that caused him to be lifted up, twisted upside-down, and thrown to the floor.

Scar-Man got the spray bottle quickly though, and the man was knocked out before No-Scar was even on his feet again.

"How strange," said Scar-Man, nudging the captive with his foot.

Now that he wasn't attacking them, it was a lot easier to get a look at the man they just caught. He had long, brown hair, and an olive complexion. His Mediterranean appearance made him stand out oddly in the very traditional Japanese home that Kiku Honda kept.

So Kiku was visited by foreigners. Foreigners who visited pretty often, given that this man was speaking in basic Japanese before. Was this organization supposed to be global, or something?

No-Scar shook his head. It was none of his business. They did their job. All that was left was to hand these men over to their client and get the rest of their payment.

"Alright England, here's your bloody milk!" Ireland called, bursting into his brother's house.

Much to his surprise, the place was empty. He was able to figure that fact out pretty quickly. When more than two of the United Kingdom brothers were in any building at the same time, it was never quiet. Now? Ireland could hear a pin drop.

"Go hifreann leat!" snarled Ireland. "Run out on me, will they?" The nerve of those jerks! Send him out on an errand and ditch him?

Ireland put the milk in the refrigerator (the last thing he wanted was for it to go bad and England to accuse him of bitching about something else) and flopped down in an armchair. It was a very comfy armchair, actually. He could spend quite some time in there.

That was precisely what he intended to do. They wanted to make him look like an idiot? Fine, he could play along. He'd just sit there until they'd had their fun and come back.

The thugs were careful to shove their target's body into the back of the rental truck before focusing on the injuries she gave them. They weren't stupid. The average passer-by wouldn't think twice of someone winded and possibly injured. Several men carrying around an unconscious, attractive young woman, though? The police were going to be called.

"They could have warned us how hard she can punch!" one of the thugs snarled, gingerly rubbing the part of his face that she hit. It was already beginning to turn black and blue.

The leader of the group rolled his eyes. Idiots. What were they expecting? They'd been warned that the target wasn't going to go down easily. Which reminded him...

Frowning slightly, he tapped the piece in his ear. He'd never seen a communications device quite like it before, and was not entirely sure he was using it right. The people hiring him and his men had been pretty tight-lipped about everything. They just handed them a ton of cash and some weird gadgets and told them to go after some woman by the name of Elizabeta Hedervary. Suspicious, but the money was real and it wasn't like he hadn't done anything like this before.

Apparently he'd turned on the piece alright, because a pleasant female voice was chirping "Connecting to headquarters! Please hold!"

After a few seconds of elevator music, a different voice came over the line. This one was also a woman, but much less pleasant than the voice for the recording. "Report?" she asked, sounding stressed. "Is this the South Korean Group Fifty or the Seychellois Group Twenty-Eight?"

"Neither. This is the head of Group Seven," he said, remembering the title he and his people agreed to go under for the mission, to prevent potentially identifying themselves by mistake. "We have the target. She will be immediately transported to the location we agreed upon."

"Excellent work," said the woman. "Someone will be there with the remainder of your pay. When you go to the drop point, be sure you are not followed by anyone."

He rolled his eyes. This group - whatever their names were - could pay top dollar and had some strange gadgets, but they insisted on treating him and his men like morons. "Yes ma'am, we'll be careful," he said, managing to only sound a little condescending. He was just about to cut the connection when one of his boys hissed something in his ear. "Oh! Hey, lady," he quickly said, "My people just got word that according to your device, another member of this group you're going after is nearby. Says he looks like he stumbled out of the eighteenth century. Not really threatening at all. Should we grab him too?"

"Hold on a moment." There was the sound of someone tapping on a keyboard, followed by soft cursing. Finally, "Dark hair that sticks up slightly? Aristocratic look?"

"Yep."

"Alright. The man's name is Roderich Edelstein. If you can get him for us, we'll pay you double. Just get the targets to us."

"Yeah, yeah." He tapped the earpiece, which seemed to shut it off. At least, he couldn't hear that woman anymore. "Alright gentlemen!" he called to the others, who had been waiting for orders after they'd loaded Ms Hedervary into the truck. "Let's get us another target!"

In a little house on the outskirts of Toronto, America continued to wait.

A/N - Oh wow, sorry this took so long. The holidays kind of had me tied up.

Pen pidyn = Welsh for "Dickhead"

Ohaiyo gozaimasu = Japanese for "Good morning". Fun fact about Japanese - the longer a phrase is, the more polite it is. And while I've never had dealings with any yakuzo, I'm sure that they're plenty polite while kidnapping someone. More fun facts - that they refer to Japan by his human last name shows that they are not familiar with him. Inversely, Japan goes to address Greece in a more familiar manner to show their friendship (yes Greece technically only has one name, but still...)

Buona sera = Italian for "Good afternoon".

Go hifreann leat = Irish for "To hell with you!"

Imeacht gan teacht ort = Irish insult that translates to "May you leave without returning". Given what's going to be happening...yeeeah. Nice choice of words there, Ireland.

I am aware that Kumajiro is a small polar bear. America...not so much, apparently. XD

About Greece speaking basic Japanese - in the manga, there were several strips in which Greece practiced Japanese so he could speak it with Japan. So in my mind, Greece would speak it when he visits Japan's house, so he can get better at it.

Hope you all enjoy! Let me know your thoughts, feelings, and criticism, and hope everyone had a great holidays and a lovely new year!