"Ve~! Your house is very scary at the moment Germany! It's all dark and stuff!" Italy trilled, his voice cheerful despite the atrocities of the situation.

"Keep it down!" Germany hissed, glancing around.

"Why~? They couldn't have gotten inside already could they?"

"I don't know. But we must take precautions," Spain answered for the German.

"Si!"

"Hey, potato bastard, how do you intend for us to escape?"

"I don't know," Germany said, frowning. "I think we should contact another nation and request help."

"But every nation who was available came here," Spain said.

"We have no other choice," Germany said, a defeated tone evident in his voice.

They arrived at the back entrance, cries of mobs wailing from outside the doors.

"Mein Gott! They're here already!" The German yelled.

"What happened to these people? Our own people?" Spain asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. "Why are they so intent on killing all but their own nation?"

"It's what time has done to mankind," Romano said bitterly. "Power and greed have driven the humans mad. So many wars against their own kind, so many times they have defeated each other To try and prove their worth, they've turned onto their own protectors; their own land."

Germany raised an eyebrow at Romano. How did he know so much? Germany shook his head. There was no time to ponder such things now. The mob outside was getting restless and impatient, the thuds and bangs on the door making Italy jump. Spain gripped the battleaxe which was tied to his back, tugging it form its bonds. Romano un-clipped the guns from holsters that were at each side of him; fastened to his belt. He tossed one to Italy.

"Use this, fratello," he said quietly.

Italy looked at the gun, fear in his eyes. The last time he'd used this…

…was WWII.

It made Germany feel uneasy as he saw the gun again, and remembered watching his friend draw it out against him, but this was not the time for that. The nations, no matter their differences, had to come together and unite. Germany strolled towards a closet, taking out a shotgun and pumping it, before swinging the door shut slowly, making sure it did not make a noise.

"Where'd you get that from, bastardo?!"

"What? The gun? My closet…"

"You keep shotguns in your closet?" Spain asked.

"Ja, since 2037,"

They all became silent at the date Germany had said. It marked the first year of a nation's death, and they did not wish to recount it.

Suddenly, a loud band occurred and Germany felt the wind leave him as he was thrown backward, dust peppering into his eyes.

He gritted his teeth the withstand the pain.

The humans had used explosives? Damn…

He suddenly remembered the situation and glanced around, seeing Spain heave himself off the floor, a cut bleeding on his arm and a bloodstained piece of glass lying next to him.

"Shit!" Spain cursed, looking at his arm, before glancing around like Germany. "Romano! Are you alright?"

Something suddenly struck Spain hard around the jaw, looking up the see the butt of a rifle being the cause. He looked up and saw a man's face, contort with rage, German flowing from his lips. Spain saw the rifle go between his eyes…

"What are you doing, you bastardo?!" A voice yelled, before a body slammed into the attacker and both figures went flying. Romano stood up first, kicking the assaulter in the chest before ripping the rifle away from the shocked man's hands.

More people flooded into the room, and Germany struggled to stand. It was going to be his people who killed his fellow nations. How could he have been so foolish to think that his country was safe…?

Bullets suddenly sprayed the air, and Germany closed his eyes, expecting a cold, hard bullet to rip through his chest. Yet it never came. Frowning at the cries of anguish from the humans, Germany turned to see a figure in the smoke, holding a gun.

America stood forward, firing warning shots into the air. France and England skid behind him, and England outstretched his palm, the people flying back as the door started to shift and change as it began to fix itself, and a symbol re-enforcing itself onto it, locking into place. More slams on the door were heard as the people screamed and cried to be let back in, to finish the job, but it was to no avail. England dropped to his knees from the effort, America kneeling beside him and making sure if he was okay.

France held out a hand to help Germany up.

"You all need to go to the conference room for Switz and Liechtenstein to heal you all."

Spain nodded, clutching his bleeding arm while Romano sported a bloodied nose. Germany assessed himself for injuries, but could find none, except the few aches and pains the impact of the explosion had caused him. Then he remembered.

"Italy?! Where's Italy?!"

"Potato bastard! Didn't you watch out for him?!"

"Romano—" Spain started, looking at the angry Italian.

"I'm sorry, Romano, I was careless…" Germany said, a feeling of dread and guilt fueling through his body. He glanced at the bodies on the ground, praying he wasn't going to spot Italy. To his relief, none of them matched him.

America looked in horror at the ground.

"I…did this?" America said, a little hollow.

"It was necessary," England assured him, his voice weak from the strain of losing so much energy. "They're not the people we know and love… they're evil."

"It's been nineteen years and we still haven't discovered their shift in nature," France spoke weakly.

"Forget that!" Romano roared. "We need to find Italy!"

"He'll have run off somewhere, waving his white flag," Spain said comfortingly.

"I'm going to find him!" Romano announced.

"No you're not," France said, his voice having a tone of command in his unusually firm and rough voice. "You need medical attention."

"I will go," Germany said, standing. "I'm fine, and I'm not hurt. Plus, I was Italy's assigned partner, I should not have lost him…"

France looked at him, before giving a curt nod. "Thirty minutes, Germany," he said. "And then you come back, and we'll all search for him."

"Ja," Germany said, acknowledging the orders. It was weird for him to do this, mostly because it was him who gave commands to other nations.

It was a nice, yet scary change.

"How did you find us anyway?" Spain asked while Liechtenstein bandaged his arm gently.

America looked over to him, sitting in one of the conference room chairs. "Oh, England saw you all in big trouble, and started running after where you were. I quickly grabbed my gun, and I overtook England and got there first. After I saw Romano slam into another person, I readied my gun and started… y'know…"

The horror reappeared in America's eyes as he remembered what he had done.

Switzerland saw his expression as he assessed America for injury, after finishing resetting Romano's nose (Who cursed loudly and profoundly as the act was done), before a look of sympathy arose on his usual, serious face.

"You did what you had to. If a nation dies, its people are doomed anyway. Look at Austria's people. They are scattered around, their government has crumbled, their water, food and all other supplies have rotted or gone to ruin."

"It seems if a nation dies, the land does too," England said softly. "The country won't literally sink into the sea, but it would be kinder to its inhabitants if it did so."

They all sat in more silence, and France kept checking the clock, cowling as he saw the minutes tick by slowly and painfully. He wanted his little brother found quickly, as did Romano. France could see the impatient, worried look in Romano's eyes as he looked at the clock also.

Hurry back, Germany. France thought, concerned. And please bring him back, safe and sound.

Germany continued running, checking each closet, each wardrobe, under every bed. He called out his partner and ally's name every five seconds, his voice turning hoarse. Where was that pasta loving bastard?!

He suddenly saw a white haired man disappear around a corner, and Germany sprinted after it, tapping his older brother on the shoulder. The albino spun, a dagger curled in his fingers and his arm outstretched to Germany's throat as his other arm held back the female nation he was accompanying defensively.

"Oh, bruder," Prussia said, a little relieved. "Why are you alone? Where's Italy, Romano and Spain?"

"There was a big attack on the back entrance door. They used explosives," he glanced at his elder brother's worried face. "Everyone is alright… I think."

"What do you mean, 'I think'?" Hungary asked, concerned.

"I can't find Italy," Germany said, his voice full of guilt. "After the attack, I could not find him anywhere. He is not dead, but he might be injured."

Prussia looked at him, nodding quickly, "ja, no worry bruder! For I, the awesome Prussia will find Italy!"

"Yes, I will help too," Hungary said, her voice full of determination. "Italy is close to me, I want to make sure he is alright."

"Okay, fine," Prussia huffed, looking at Hungary's eyes which were full of both hurt and concern. Prussia felt his mood drop drastically, going from determination and courage to sadness and pained. The woman he loved was hurting so much inside, even her eyes showed it. But there wasn't much he could do. Helping find Italy would perhaps but her mind at ease, give her something to take her mind off of it all and to feel helpful. But, on the other hand, if Italy was indeed injured…

…He could not think of that for the time being.

For now, they had to find Italy.

A/N: Sorry I took so long! My exam I had been revising for has been done now, so hopefully I can update faster! Enjoy! ~