Sorry for the lateness! Ahhh...This chapter is finally done (sorry, it is really short) . Do you know how hard this was to write? (Hence the brokeness of the sections) Tension is heating up, huh? Well, at least I gave it a break at the end! (It tugged at my heart. *sniff*) Also! Side note! Over 1000 hits with both my stories combined! Fantastic! Oh, and my other story is supposed to be nice and fluffy. But for now, since this is a reeeeally long Author's note, I'll get to the point. REVIEW! Am I not being clear in the story? Who's character do you like the most? How am I doing? Do you even like the story? (Also feel free to PM me, I'll always respond to PMs within 1-2 days)

SUPER IMPORTANT *NEW* NOTE: Okay, its not too important. I'm writing this after this chapter was originally out, because: I read through my story. I then noticed the scene shifts weren't seperated. So what did I do for you reader people was...I went back and fixed EVERY chapter. That's right, now every chapter should have ' ' ' seperation lines, lines under (and above!) the Author notes, and bold titles.

Also, sorry for any spelling mistakes and such. You know the drill if you've read my other author notes. I love you all, and...

ENJOY CHAPTER 12!

Chapter 12: Floods of tears

Sealand's eyes grew wide as he took in the news. "N-no...please not him..." They'd hurt him. Britain wasn't supposed to be caught as well, how was he also taken? Something had to have happened. Sealand was brought to his feet and dragged out of the room as he struggled to stay. He screamed his brother's name, and tears rolled down his cheeks. Nyx smiled coldly and spoke as the doors started to close.

"Let's let them have a little family reunion, shall we?"

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Feliciano followed his brother closely, feeling as if they were being watched from behind. The feeling has been haunting him since they got lost. He inched closer to Lovino, then he grabbed onto his jacket in fear. They thought they were almost back to the camp, and there they will meet the other countries and the others will get the ones that were trapped. Simple. Feliciano clung to his brother and tried to think of a positive future.

His thoughts were interrupted by a snapping of a twig. Lovino turned first, grabbing Feliciano and forcing him behind his back. There were two men and one woman in front of them, and they all wore black cloaks. Lovino tensed and kept an arm around his brother. The woman threw a kick first, while the two men followed her, instead pushing Lovino back, away from Feliciano. Feliciano blinked and stumbled back, holding his hands up in surrender. Lovino was fighting the two men back, and was having trouble doing so. After a while he gained control of the fight, and won over the two men, only to see that others had came to collect Feliciano, and had knocked him unconsious. Lovino fought the hardest he could, clearly inflicting injuries to the attackers. He had won the battle of strength, but had lost the one person that he was trying to protect. He looked down in anger, wiping the blood off the corner of his mouth, leaning with his back against the tree closest to him. He sank down to his knees, trying to think of the best way to get his brother back.

"Those bastards..."

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Finland sat in his cell, huddled into the far right corner. It was cold again, and the blanket he was provided wasn't helping. He had so much time alone now. He had thought about everything, as many people do when they're alone. He thought of memories, memories of Christmas, of Sealand, of his home, of the meetings, and of Sweden. He forced back tears and gathered up every happy memory that was left.

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America grinned through his bleeding lip. He had found the entrance, and was proud he was so close to saving everyone. It was a strange entrance. He had watched as a cult member stopped near a foxhole and hooked her finger around its rim, pulling as the trapdoor clicked and opened. The door itself was about twelve feet in length, and opened about four feet wide. Underneath were stairs, not steep, and the underside of the door was covered with a sheet of thin metal. It must not be heavy, America thought, Maybe a set of ropes and switches making it light and easy to lift. Not to mention it opened silently. A perfect entrance to a cult base.

He inched toward it quietly until a hand grabbed his wrist suddenly.

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Britain was forced through the metal cell door, unable to struggle in his state. He was shoved in, yet Britain somehow kept his balence and stayed on his feet. He leaned against the wall to catch his breath when a small figure emerged from the shadowed corners of the cell. His good eye widened at the sight of the familiar young nation. He fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around him, enclosing the small, trembling body in his arms. He let his tears escape down his bloodied cheeks and he whispered in a broken voice, "Sealand..."