Disclaimer: We don't own Hetalia!

A/N: We're ba~ack! And with a sequel to our previous story: Return to the Viking Age. First off, we'd just like to say HI, DALA, BHUDDA, MEDUSA, LITTLE YELLOW SUNFLOWER, AND NAURSASU! Alright, we got that out of the way!

Enjoy! Please review!

Welcome to Globe

Rome hummed happily as he mixed the pasta sauce for his dinner. Taking a whiff of the food, the realm decided it needed more spices. But when he moved to looks over his herbs and spices he paused.

"Basil, oregano, or simply garlic," Rome wondered aloud. "What do you think, fratello?" He looked around the empty kitchen as though speaking to someone.

A picture frame sat on the windowsill above the stove. The picture was of a realm who could have been Rome's twin. Both males were short with red hair and violet eyes, a stray curl bounces off their heads in opposite directions.

"Hm, I agree. A mix of all three would do well," Rome agreed to the empty kitchen. He grabbed the chosen spices, mixing them into the sauce. The realm continued to converse with the air, unaware of his solitude. Finished with the spices, he looked up at the dark red sky and smiled.

"I'm glad you came over for dinner, fratello. You won't be sad."

Little did Rome know that North Rome had been dead for centuries. The realm had long forgotten the fact, and refused to believe it, that he himself had murdered his twin brother.

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Soviet rolled the vodka around the glass in his hand, smiling as he watched the red sky outside. His house had been silent for centuries. Just the way he liked it. No annoying realms to complain or tell him they won't marry him. Soviet scowled at the thought. His pest of a sister had refused to marry him. It didn't matter now, she was dead. Though, his older sister had tried to kill him for it, so she had to be taken care of next. Those three brothers had attacked and killed one of their friends. Soviet had had to get rid of them next before they rebelled. Then there was the female realm who had wanted to remain with her husband. She had been finished off rather quickly. Soviet had no idea what had happened to her husband.

"I wish you could see me, Belarus," Soviet said with a smirk. "I've come so far. I don't know why you didn't want me." The realm's sisters had looked very much like him. They'd all had black hair and golden eyes. Soviet was, of course, larger than most of the other realms.

Soviet looked down sadly at the cracked, overgrown sidewalk. The snow had fallen for nearly ninety hours in a row but the flakes had melted the minute they'd touched the ground. Soviet loved the north and he wished the snow would stay longer.

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With the scrape of a shovel, another pile of dirt was tossed into the deep hole. The tall, dark-haired man continued to throw dirt into the pit, his orange eyes trained on the shovel in his hands.

"Sammen kan vi stiger, vi sammen står vi sammen falder, (Together we rise, together we stand, together we fall,)" Kalmar chanted the mantra under his breath as he piled dirt into the hole.

Eventually, the hole was finished and Kalmar straightened up, leaning on the shovel. His hands and clothes were caked with dry blood from his horrible act.

"Sleep w'll, Icy," Kalmar whispered. "I'll c'me ch'ck on ya l'ter." The realm bowed low the row of four graves then turned to make his way back to the now empty house. He and his brothers had lived happily together for years . . . until Kalmar had gotten power hungry and killed Sweden. Finland had gone next, then Norway. Iceland had lasted a quarter of a century before he'd had to die too.

The new gravestone was engraved with only a few words.

Iceland,

My precious brother.

He will be sorely missed.

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Ottoman inhaled the smoke of the Hookah deeply then exhaled it through his nose, staring at a statue from Greece with violet eyes. Not that the realm would be needing it anymore. The younger realm had been dead for over two and a half centuries, Egypt and Cyprus for even longer. Ottoman had played cat and mouse many times before he'd succeeded in killing Greece.

"I told ya I would finish ya," Ottoman said with a smirk as the orange smoke dissipated. "It's gotten borin' around here." The realm leaned back, ruffling his red hair. Ottoman was quiet, his ears straining to hear the bustling of crowds outside his window. But there were none. Humans had been dead for over fifty years now.

It was just the realms now.

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Oceania sat alone on the mountain, staring at the horizon. He'd waited for nearly a century now, he could wait a little longer. Couldn't he?

"Mate, where are you?" The red-haired, violet-eyed nation sighed.

The island realm had been alone his entire life since Britannia had left him with the promise to return. Oceania had been waiting for his father ever since.

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Gaul growled as he looked up and down the empty streets of his once glorious capital. Old newspapers were blown around by a stray wind, but no humans moved about.

"Where is a woman when you want one?" The dark-haired nation glared at the empty streets with orange eyes before turning his back on them. "Mais oui, let's kill all the women so we have no one to make love to. You are the biggest idiots of all."

Gaul plopped down on his bed wishing, and certainly not for the first time, for one of the female nations to still be alive . . . or at least for Polar to lend Gaul his wife. It got lonely on Globe with no one to love. Not that Gaul had ever listened to his lovers. They'd all met their ends quickly.

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Imperial swung his sword angrily and stuck the pole once more. His stupid older brother, Formosa, was yelling at him again. It was always the older realm's fault. Maybe if he didn't do such stupid things then Hong Kong would have still be alive.

"I told you to leave me in piece," the blonde-haired, violet-eyed nation snarled. "Taiwan-kun and I could have been happy. You just had to step in." Imperial straightened up, smiling. The screams of Hong Kong still echoed sweetly in his ears. The killing had been wonderful . . . and fun, since all the humans had died out.

Imperial swung his sword once more and the thick pole was sliced clean in half. The realm smiled and straightened up.

"Just like Hong Kong."

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There was a loud clatter as Formosa banged his pots around the cupboard. The nerve of Imperial! All Formosa had wanted to do was protect Taiwan. She had died in the end, Formosa had made sure of it. No one killed his last child and got away with it.

"Damn Imperial, acting as if he rules Globe," Formosa snarled to himself. "If there weren't any of those damn laws I would kill him now, aru." The blonde-haired glared out the window with violet eyes.

Ever since the end of Global War Three, it had been illegal to kill.

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South Korea smiled as he mixed ingredients for that night's supper. He was happy. Not as happy as he would have liked, but happy. Maybe if his damn brother hadn't sunk into the ocean, he'd be even happier. The surviving realms called him 'South Korea' now. He wanted to be 'Korea', not half of himself.

"Not to worry, hyeong, (brother,)" the blonde, violet-eyed realm said. "You would have done the same." He continued to mix the ingredients, ignoring the silence of the dead streets.

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Vinland looked at the sugar maple trees with orange eyes and sighed. They were all dried up and dead, just like last season. Maple syrup, the dark-haired realm's favorite food, hadn't been made in years. Not since all the sugar bushes had died.

"If you were still here, bror, you would do something about it," Vinland said to the sky.

Global War Three had been a war to calm New Scandinavia as someone else's realm instead of Kalmar's. It had killed Vinland's brother, leaving him lonely.

Vinland turned and headed back to his cabin to fetch his gun. With nothing else to do he might as well hunt some polar bears.

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Hispania gritted his teeth and continued to make churros. Maybe if Mexico hadn't argued with him she'd still alive. Trust the friendly realm to pick a fight with him. He was not going to let her get away with such acts.

"Puta estúpida, defying me," Hispania growled. The red-haired, violet-eyed realm wondered what his two friends were up to. They didn't get together as often anymore without any humans to terrorize.

Pausing in his churro making, Hispania wished once again that his wife was still alive.

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Teutonic slammed a cupboard door shut and glared around the kitchen. If only that bastard hadn't tried to kill him while he'd been on his way to get beer. Damn that Austria! Not that it mattered, the realm was dead now . . . but there was still no beer.

"Stupid, Austria." The black-haired, green-eyed realm plopped down at the table, pouting like a child. "I want my beer."

Teutonic's phone buzzed with a text message. Grabbing his phone, the German realm read the ext.

"A Globe meeting in Alba," he recited. "Why would they want us there?" Shrugging, Teutonic grabbed his sword and left his house.

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The three Celtic brothers stood before the group of realms situated at the round table. The gathered realms glanced around at each other, trying to relax. This many realms hadn't been in the same room since Global War Three.

"Well, then," Soviet said, crossing his arms and glaring at Kalmar who was making faces at him again. "Why don't you tell us why we are here, da?" He was going to punch the Nordic realm's face in if he didn't cut that out.

"Do ye remember yer brothers and sisters?" Alba asked the group. He and his brothers were very similar, with their brown hair and orange eyes.

Several realms looked at each other guiltily. Formosa and Imperial looked ready to kill each other while Kalmar's grin faded before returning a moment later.

"I remember, don't you, fratello?" Rome asked the air beside him.

"Wh't does Icy h've ta do w'th th's?" Kalmar asked stiffly, ignoring the Schizophrenic realm beside him.

"We were looking into our scrying mirror," Alba continued. "And we saw them."

"What do you mean you saw them?" Soviet asked curiously.

"Belarus, Hong Kong, Greece," Alba hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Iceland. They're all alive."

"So is my fratello," Rome said cheerfully. "He would like to say ciao!"

"Are ya teas'ng me?" Kalmar stood from his chair with an axe in one hand and a broadsword in the other. "I j'st k'lled my bror! Don't m'ke fun of me!" Ottoman sighed and took a long drag of his pipe, exhaling the smoke through his nose.

"It's a parallel universe," Alba explained quickly before the temperamental realm could attack him. "Everyone is still alive." Kalmar frowned thoughtfully, slowly sinking back into his seat.

"You mean my sweet little Belarus is still alive?" Soviet excitedly.

"Are ya sayin' Greece is alive too?" Ottoman looked bored with the meeting.

"Aye, Greece is alive and well." Alba nodded.

"You mean to tell me Hong Kong is alive in that world, aru?" Formosa asked.

"Aye," Alba sighed and turned his eyes to the ceiling. "They are parallels to us. They call themselves 'nations'."

"Wait, they're p'rallels?" Kalmar looked thoughtful. Could he really restore his family again?

"Aye, they're parallels. They're not exactly the same, but they're our brothers and sisters," Alba told the group. "Tell me, would we leave our siblings alone?"

"Nej, and I can h've my son b'ck!" Kalmar looked to Vinland happily. "Do ya wn't yer bror?" he asked.

"Of course I want my bror back," Vinland told his father.

"A have even better news," Alba spoke up.

"What's that, mate?" Oceania asked. He was hopeful of the idea of getting his father back.

"We know where the portal to Earth is."

"Where?" Soviet almost stood from his chair.

"It's located at the base of Mount Lluköjallajfajye," Alba told them.

"Well then." Teutonic stood with a grin. "Let's go get them back."

The realms all heartily agreed as outside birds flew over a silent, dead world.

A/N: We hope you liked this chapter! There's one coming tomorrow! Hopefully you like this story!

Alright, a little bit of explanation: the 'realms' are the exact opposites of their counterparts. Some of them, like Kalmar, are a mix of the nations they killed.

We met New Scandinavia in the last story! Along with Alba, Cambria, and Emerald Isle.