Diclaimer: I've noticed that a lot of people make fun of disclaimers. But when you think about it, the disclaimer is kind of a show of respect. If I were to say that I owned Hetalia, I would be disrespecting Hiramura-sama.

So I can proudly say that I don't own Hetalia.

"Get the hell in the car."

"What?" Arthur sputtered, staring at the silver truck—he couldn't tell what type, he'd never been a car fan.

The man—a tall blonde with bright blue eyes looked nervous and jumpy as he spoke, glancing around, "Listen, I know this sounds crazy, but there's something chasing me. And you'll definitely be collateral damage. So please just get the hell in the car."

Arthur's mouth opened ever so slightly in surprise; the only reason he wasn't causing a big fuss right now was because he was simply so surprised that this complete stranger had just walked up to him and told him to get in the car—not even a please, thank you—and now he was acting like a complete nutter, glancing back and forth as though he expected something to actual come up and attack him. Finally, he regained his voice. "No."

The man looked like he kind of expected that response, but tried again anyway, glancing nervously over his shoulder all the while, "Please! We don't have time for—"

"Listen, I am not getting in the car with some strange man who appears to be delusional! If you think I will you're—"

Arthur was cut off by a loud, bone-chilling shriek, and the sound of something popping. The man sent a terrified look over his shoulder, blue eyes wide with panic. When he looked back, Arthur had already scrambled into the passenger seat of the car.

The man blinked in surprise, but a relieved grin was slowly spreading across his face. "Okay, let's blow this popsicle stand!"

In a show of surprising physical ability, the man vaulted over the top of the truck and slid smoothly into the car. His gloved hands quickly twisted the key, and the engine began purring like kitten.

There was another shriek. Arthur jumped, glancing around as the car peeled out of the grocery store parking lot. As they were riding down the road, the man finally introduced himself. "My name's Alfred. Alfred F. Jones. To prove to you that I'm not a stalker, I'm going to shake our tail and then drop you off somewhere inconspicuous."

Not quite sure what to think, Arthur just kept staring out the window, head spinning with questions. However, there was one question that needed his immediate attention:

"What sort of truck is this?"

"Chevy." Alfred said dismissively.

And so the interrogation began.

"What's following us?"

The response was somewhat confusing. "Do you believe in ghosts and magic crap?"

Arthur gave him an incredulous look. It took him a moment to respond, though. If I actually say yes, will he think I'm a freak? "Depends on who's asking." He said delicately.

"Well, I'm asking, and I believe in magic crap. I know you may think I'm absolutely crazy, but spirits are real and all. I'm serious." Alfred turned sharply around the corner, causing Arthur to slam into the wall. He let out a loud curse, and righted himself indignantly.

"Watch it!"

Alfred didn't spare him a second glance, just muttered a half-hearted 'sorry' and pulled into another sharp turn, forcing Arthur against the door again. He let out a loud shout, and tried to right himself, cursing Alfred's terrible driving. "I said watch it, damn you! Agh—" This time he was thrown practically into Alfred's lap. The blond didn't bat an eyelash, just twisted the wheel again, forcing Arthur out of it. "Are you even listening to me?"

"No, I'm trying to ditch our tail." He finally glanced over, and sent Arthur a blinding grin. "Can we talk later? These guys are pretty fast!"

Arthur gave up trying to reason with him, and instead slumped tiredly against the seat.

He just wanted his tea. He had gone to the store to get his damn tea. To calm down, in theory. And now he was in the car with a maybe-psycho who claimed that they were being tracked down by a ghost. That didn't exactly fill him with any confidence.

"Right." Arthur glanced over his shoulder, and clenching the armrests as they violently turned another corner. He didn't see anything remotely spectral, but he supposed that he wasn't able to see the ghost things. Whatever. "Okay. Okay. I'm in a car that is not mine. I'm in a car that is not mine, with a crazy person. I'm in a car that is not mine, with a crazy person, being chased by a ghost. I'm in a car that is not mine, with a crazy person, being chased by a ghost, and I don't even know where we're going—hey," He turned back to Alfred. "Where are we going?"

Alfred shrugged. "I dunno."

"What?" Arthur all but shrieked. Suddenly, he wanted to start tearing his hair out. "You don't even know where we're going? What madness is this?"

He shrugged. "I'm just trying to lose them, how am I supposed to know where I'm going?"

Arthur gave him a wide-eyed stare, mouth agape with shock that anyone could be so stupid! What idiot could not know where they were going? The ghosts didn't seem that dangerous, if there even were ghosts; after all, they hadn't caught up with the little truck, had they?

Finally—finally—Alfred slowed down a little, and let out a soft sigh of relief. "Okay, it looks like we lost them." He glanced up at the sun, which was slowly dipping in the sky. "Hm…I wonder if I can make it to the church on time…" Suddenly he realized he still had another passenger in the car. "Oh, sorry you had to get all caught up in this. I can drop you off a block from your house, if you like. Wait, hold on—"

He suddenly reached into his back pocket, and withdrew a non-descript looking spray bottle, and began spritzing it all over Arthur before he could say anything. The poor Brit let out a soft gasped, and tried to shake the water out of his hair. "What the hell?"

"Sorry. Just a precaution. To make sure that if they came, you wouldn't get hurt." Alfred grinned widely. "Now come on, we need to hurry! If the sun goes down to quickly and I can't make it to the church—"

He glanced over at the sun again, and his bright smile flipped very, very quickly. "Uh—listen, uh—"

"Arthur." He hissed angrily. "My name is Arthur."

"Right, sorry." He smiled nervously. "Do you think you could—I dunno—get out here, so I can step it to the church?"

"I don't even know where I am." Arthur snarled, folding his arms across his chest. "Let alone how to get home."

"D'you have family?" Alfred asked, slowing the truck to a crawl, and nervously glanced at the ever-receding sun. "Someone you can call?"

Arthur glanced away. "They're all overseas."

That was the moment Alfred realized he seemed to have an English accent; he flushed ever so slightly, and turned back to the front. "Right. Um…could you—would you mind coming to the church with me? It's just until tomorrow…you know, until it's safe."

Arthur didn't want to spend another moment with this man, but the way Alfred kept glancing around fearfully—and that noise he'd heard in the parking lot…besides; he didn't mind spending a little time in the church. They had always been kind to him, especially when he got into another argument with his unruly older brothers. No, he certainly didn't mind the church.

"Okay." Arthur scowled. "It doesn't look like I have another choice."

And that was when the unthinkable happened; several blocks away from the doors of the church, the truck broke down.

It stopped with a putter, and then a soft click, and then it just died, like a cat that had just cut off purring. The beautiful silver truck stopped gently, leaving its two occupants paralyzed in horror. Alfred swallowed, and stoked the engine. "C'mon, babe, work. Please, baby, don't fail me now." He worked it again, and suddenly seemed to realize the futility of his actions. "C'mon, we got to start walking if we want to beat sundown." Then he glanced at the sky. "Uh…maybe we should start running."

Arthur wasn't quite sure he wanted to start running, but for some reason Alfred seemed adamant. However, they only traveled a few steps before Alfred stopped. "We'll never make it."

Arthur stopped too. "Okay. So what now?"

Alfred bent down, and pulled out a small piece of chalk. "Watch her step," He muttered, before drawing a wide circle around the both of them. Then, he removed that strange bottle from his pocket again, and sprayed the circle, and put it away again. Then, he whipped out a knife, pressed it to his finger, and carefully put a droplet of on the edge.

Only a second later, something crashed into the air next to his head.

Arthur let out a shriek and backed away from the edge, only to bump into Alfred, who grabbed a hold of his shoulders and kept him from moving any more. "Calm down! You need to calm down, dammit! If you break the circle, nothing's stopping them from coming in and attacking us!"

He watched in horror as some sort of nightmare stalked around the chalk circle, growling and spitting angrily. It had the appearance of some sort of dog, though it couldn't possibly be that, because it had no fur, and its skin was pitch black and rippling with muscles. It had an elongated snout, and vicious teeth poked over the lips, acid spit dripping from its jowl, pavement sizzling sickeningly, leaving the smell of burnt tar and rubber.

And there wasn't just one of them; there were dozens.

And then a tall, blond man appeared in front of them, smiling widely.

"Hello Alfred."

Does it ever bother you when you get a backstory? Like, when you get a book, and they give you the character's background before they start into all the action?

Screw this, I say! Who needs a backstory?

Anyway...lol.

IceEckos12