"Canada, slow down!"
England desperately attempted to pause the other nation, but his pleas fell onto deaf ears. As soon as the destinations were verified, Canada had demanded to be taken back to the office. No exceptions. The hurried pace did not slow even after the car ride, the younger nation refusing to adjust his speed. Leaving England out of breath as he tried to keep up.
"Look, you need to keep a cool head at a time like this. Rushing around recklessly won't help anyone."
He watched Canada turn abruptly and was taken back by the emotions roiling in those purple irises: anger, worry, fear.
"England, you should realize that those nuclear weapons were passing over my land. It doesn't matter that I wasn't the target. Those missiles were just too close for comfort."
"I'm not trying to downplay the severity of the situation. I just…"
With a weary sigh, Canada shook his head. "You're trying to help, and I understand. But right now I…I really need to go back…back to my country."
"What do you plan to do?"
"Well, first and foremost I'm going to check on my people. Alaska might have been the actual target, but you know as well as I do about the radiation."
How could he not know? The horrible aftereffect of those destructive weapons. It wasn't enough that everyone and everything in the immediate area are completely wiped out. No, those weapons emitted a wave of radioactive particles that bring merciless changes to the "lucky" survivors. Invisible poison that strikes without warning. Secret mutations that may manifest on the spot, or reveal themselves in subsequent generations. The effect on the population was devastating beyond words, but for a nation… England couldn't help but shudder as he recalled his visit to Japan after Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
"Are you feeling alright?
"I don't feel like throwing up my stomach. So far so good. But I still need to go back to know for sure." He paused with his hands on the door of the office. "Once I know my people's condition, I'm going to America for some answers. But before that, I'll make sure his face gets acquainted with my fist."
England gave a wry smile. "And you think you'll be faster than his reflexes?"
"From the looks of it, America will be too sick to see the punch coming."
He wasn't sure what frightened him more: the cold reality of the statement, or the fact that Canada could say such things in a stoic tone.
Reaching for the handle, Canada wasted no time in opening the door and rushing into the room. His eyes immediately focused on the sofa which, curiously enough, was empty. The bear he had left sleeping peacefully was no longer on the said furniture.
England watched as the younger nation began to look around the room. "Maybe he woke up and decided to take a walk?"
"No, Kumakiko wouldn't leave the room unless he knew where I was, especially since we're in a foreign country. He knows better than…"
His explanation came to a stop as both nations tried to understand the situation in front of them.
Back hunched. Fur bristling. Claws extended.
Kumajirou remained in the corner, his growls low and threatening. Dilated eyes were trained forward, eyes that did not register the nations as friends. A mixture of anger and fear. The white bear's normally calm demeanor was absent, almost as if he was prepared to lunge at the slightest provocation.
Canada approached with cautious steps and a soothing voice. "Kumakochi, what's wrong?"
In response, he got a fierce snarl and was shown a mouthful of razor sharp fangs. Still, the young nation drew closer.
"It's okay, buddy. I'm here, so everything will be okay."
"Canada, are you sure about this?"
"I trust him, England." He squatted and placed his hand gently on top of the bear's head. "And you trust me, right Kumajirou?"
It could have been the familiar voice, the soothing touch, or the fact that the right name was finally used. But whatever the reason, Kumajirou paused slightly before finally relaxing. Blinking his eyes, he looked up at the smiling nation and cocked his head to the side.
"Canada?"
"You actually remembered me this time? You must have been really upset."
Kumajirou shuddered before nuzzling into his owner's chest, indicating that some of the tension had dissipated. England released a sigh and shook his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that there was something wrong, that there was a change since he left the room. A small envelope was on his desk, placed on top of the documents he had thrown down before. As his brain registered this new development, he heard the bear's hitched whisper.
"A strange…man…came in a few minutes before you did."
"Did this man hurt you?"
"No, he just went to the desk. I think he left something. Then, he looked at me and…" Kumajirou continued to shift in Canada's arm until he was completely within the nation's embrace. "I don't like him. I don't like him."
"What…what did he do to you?"
"He…he was going to kill me. He was smiling, but it was scary. I don't like him."
Canada continued to murmur softly while stroking the still stiff fur as England went over to pick up the envelope. Long and manila colored, he opened it to find a small CD case. Normally, he would have used special precautions when dealing with unidentified items, but there simply wasn't time to go through the procedure. Instead, he stared at the unmarked CD inside the plastic casing.
"England, what's that?"
He shook his head, unable to answer, and sat down in front of his computer. With quick fingers, he brought it out of sleep mode and inserted the CD into his hard drive, which whirled to life as the machine read the stored data. A single file showed up, the extension indicating that it was a video.
Waving to get Canada's attention, England waited until the he came over with Kumajirou still in his grasp. With a deep breath, he double-clicked the file.
As soon as the window opened, they were met by a young man staring straight into the camera. Clean, navy suit along with a solid black tie. Untidy, short, dirty blonde hair. Fair skin tone. Purple irises, but eyes so dark that the color was barely noticeable. Overall, he seemed to be a typical human male. But they knew better. His smile, pleasant at the first glance, was too fake. As if he had on a mask. His eyes had an intense shine that suggested clarity. Or complete madness.
Kumajirou bristled instantly in Canada's arms. "I don't like him."
The man's smile widened, almost as if he could hear the bear. His arm gliding to his chest, he gave an elegant bow to his audience. Fluid. Graceful.
"Greetings, gentlemen. I do hope you will enjoy this performance, the show that is about to start."
He straightened, the smile never leaving his face.
"Ah, I understand that in your current states, you have no desire to waste time viewing this file, but I assure you that this is merely a preview. It should not take too long since the lead actor is not ready to come on stage."
England frowned, his irritation rising. From the first few minutes, he concluded that some fanatic advertiser was showcasing a client. He simply did not have the patience to deal with this, not when there were more significant matters at hand. With a sigh, he maneuvered his mouse towards the upper right corner of the window.
"Tsk tsk. I would not leave just yet, even if you are worried about a certain incident with certain weapons of mass destruction."
He froze at those words, his hand staying in place. He exchanged a glance with Canada before turning his full attention to the screen.
"Interested now? I must say that I am a bit surprised." The man tilted his head back as he ran a hand through his hair. A soft chuckle resonated, suggested that he was in a place with a high ceiling that gave good acoustics. Purple irises shifted until they were looking down at the camera. "A pity to know that it is so simple to manipulate the nations of this world."
He chuckled again before returning to his former position. "Oh, I can only imagine the possible expressions. Is it utter surprise or unbridled terror? Curiosity or fear? Most likely paranoid, suspicious…did I put you on guard?"
Another bow, this time in mockery. "But where are my manners? As an apology for my words, I will reveal this to you. I am not affiliated with a terrorist group or a cult. I do not have immediate plans of coming after your territories, so let your minds rest easy on that matter. Now, concerning the recent events, I am certain that you must be a little confused. You are asking why he did it. What were his motives? What is he going to do next?"
Hand placed on chin. "The only plausible explanation is that America finally went over the edge, becoming rash and suicidal. Such a shame, witnessing this in a former superpower."
Eyes closed. Head shaking. "I know that you have been thinking this, too. America used to be strong and prosperous. Full of potential. But all good things must come to an end. The country has been in a decline, yet somehow managed to cling to its outdated status while the rest of the world criticized, insulted, hated. So, what if a factor came along and gave America the small push that will send him plummeting into certain death?"
Screams erupted from the speakers, interrupting the disturbing speech. The pain was audible, the agony present in every decibel of sound, in every second that passed by. Anyone who listened would not be able to avoid cringing at the clear desperation in the cracking voice. It also did not help that the screams seemed to be amplified by the walls. Eventually, the deafening cries diminished to choking coughs.
It had only lasted for a short time, but for England it felt that like an eternity. He had recognized the voice since the beginning. So had Canada, judging from his ashen face.
The man had waited until he decided that he could be heard before resuming. "It seems as if the missiles have hit the targets. Much quicker than expected. Oh, did I fail to mention that this was recorded before the nuclear weapons were fired? Silly me. I can be so absentminded at times."
He was interrupted again, though this time with a different set of sounds. Gurgling. Splattering. This did not last long, either, and ended with broken sobs that nearly stopped England's heart.
Eyes with feigned pity looked over to the side. "Well, it seems the star of the show will be unable to make an appearance. But I know he will recuperate in time for the actual performance."
The ever present smile. England wanted to punch the man's face until it becomes unrecognizable.
"Next time, I will provide live streaming, so wait for me to send the necessary instructions. Until then." He gave a short wave, then seemed to change his mind. "Actually, before I cut the clip I'll let you have a sneak peek."
Without warning, the screen blurred before stopping in front of another man. Hands and feet restrained with metal bonds on a chair that was chained to the wall, thick ropes coiling over the upper body. Remnants of the previous distress covering his legs and the surrounding floor, though there was more bile than solid substances. Disheveled attire that suggested that the man was well-dressed at one point. Sweat-covered bangs hiding the face because his head was bent low.
But England's fear had been realized along with the identity of the restrained man…no, not a man, not a human. He knew who he was looking at even before he saw the familiar, rebellious strand of hair sticking out to the side. But as the nation raised his head to look at the camera, before his identity could be verified, the screen went black.
And remained that way for the remaining five minutes of the video.