12

England sat defeated, watching as Canada flipped through his cell phone. He wondered how it was even possible that he was alive. He had the feeling that he already knew, but it wasn't clear to him.

France had fallen asleep quite some time ago and the basement was quiet aside from the small beeps and clicks that came from the phone. There was no way out as far as he could see. There was no way to try and escape because it seemed that Canada never left the basement except for meal times where he would only disappear for a few minutes. In those few minutes England would always try different things to get out. But each time Canada would come back down and discover his futile attempts. Now the cords around him were tied at the front to keep his from untying the knot and it seemed like it was all over. He was never getting out.

"Wait a second, how did you get my phone?"

Canada looked over at him and smirked. "I checked your pockets when you were under." He looked back down at the phone. With one hand he held it and continued to flip through it and with the other he reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a gun. "Found this too," he said. And then shaking his head he tutted. "You should know better than to carry firearms around. Whose was it? Germany's?"

"Yeah," the Brit replied quietly. He had only taken it as an extra precaution, but it didn't really do him much good.

Suddenly the phone began to vibrate. Canada looked over at England with wide eyes and then he got up off the table and went over to sit down next to his captive. He looked him dead in the face and said, "Speak a word of me or where you are and I swear to God I will shoot you. Understand?"

England nodded and Canada flipped open the phone and held it up so that both of them could hear.

"Hello?" said someone on the other end. "England? Are you there?"

Canada gestured for England to say something.

"Yes, hello?"

"Hola, it's Spain," said Spain. "I know we don't have a good history or anything, but… what am I saying? This isn't about… Look, we just thought that since you raised him and all you should know that Sealand is dead. We found him outside a half an hour ago. I think he was pushed off the roof, but… Who knows, right? Dio, that makes eight. Um. So yeah I just thought you'd want to know that. England? Hello?"

A sharp pain made the Brit come out of his stupor and he found that Canada had poked a small blade between his ribs and was mouthing for him to say something.

"Y-yes, I'm here. Thank you for letting me know. I'll… I'll come back as soon as I can, I just have to finish a few things over here."

"Oh, okay. I'll tell them that you're tied up there. See you later."

"Yeah, see you." Before England could even think about the irony of what Spain had just said Canada hung up and put the phone and blade back in his pocket. He stood up and walked back over to the workbench where the gun was sitting.

He spun around and looked at England. "He said eight," he told him. "Eight, so that's…" he counted on his fingers, mouthing each countries name in turn and then he frowned and re-counted. "He said eight right?"

England nodded.

"Nine," said Canada. "There are nine people dead or missing. Not eight. Does that mean he knows that I didn't actually die? Does he know?"

"B-but, it was only eight."

"No, no, it was nine. There was me, then Japan, Germany, America, Prussia-"

"Wait, Prussia?"

Canada stopped and looked at him. "Yeah, why?"

"We didn't know Prussia was dead. When did…"

"He saw me bringing Al's body into my room so I had to or he would tell someone. So does that mean he's still in his bathtub?"

England sputtered. "You drowned him in the bathtub? What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

"Shut up or I'll have to take away your speaking privileges."

"No! No, I won't stop talking! You killed nine people!"

"Technically I only killed Al, Japan, Germany, Prussia, Finland and Switzerland, that's… six."

"What about Sealand? You killed him too."

Canada grimaced and closed his eyes. "I didn't kill Sealand."

"Then what do you call-"

"Shut up! Just shut. Up." He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly and then he checked his watch. "Lunchtime," he muttered. "I'll be right back."

The Canadian disappeared up the steps and through the door. England turned to look at France who had woken up at some point and was now staring straight back. No, not straight back. A little down and to the right at the floor beside England.

He looked down at the floor and to his surprise he saw the small blade that Canada had poked at him. It must have fallen out of his pocket when he stood up. And it was just within reach.

England shifted and stretched out his legs to pull the blade closer with his feet. Then he turned around and picked it up. He got to work cutting through the bindings on his wrists.

The bungee cords snapped easily and the Brit brought his raw hands forward to cut the cords on his ankles as well. With that done he stood up, somewhat unsteadily, but he soon regained his balance and went over to France. He untied the gag and France spat and coughed and shook his head. The wrists were next, but as he was busy cutting through those France spoke.

His voice was rough from lack of use but it was unmistakable what he said. "He didn't lock the door."

What? Really? But wait, now that he thought about it when Canada had closed the door there had been no click of the lock locking. So after undoing the rest of the restraints he bounded up the stairs and tried the door. It gave and opened a crack, letting in the sound of sobbing.

He peered through the crack and could just make out their captor's back, hunched over the kitchen counter and shaking. Was he really so shaken that he forgot to lock the door? Either way it was a way out and either way the way out was blocked by a nation strong enough to kill a fully armed Switzerland.

There had to be something he could use. England looked around the room, searching for anything that remotely resembled a weapon. And there it was. Sitting on the workbench like a sign of what he had to do. So England went back down the stairs and picked up Germany's gun.

Le gasp! What will happen next!

This story just doesn't want to die, it's like no matter what I do it won't end, so here's the deal. I'll keep writing, you keep reviewing. And I guess it will end when it ends.

I have to admit I was expecting a million rages, but to my surprise there were only a couple. You know, about the fact that it's Canada. I said that would be explained this time, but I had a better idea, so if you haven't figured out how he did it already, you'll have to wait a little longer

Do no own Hetalia…