AN: Please review!
"Sounds like you're having a rough time," a sudden voice asked from the corner of the room.
England jumped to his feet as he whipped around to see a dark silhouette standing there, casting a shadow in his direction. "Who's there?" he darted for the hand gun that was laying on the dresser near him.
"Oh come now," the voice cooed. "Do you honestly feel the need to shoot me?" The figure stepped out of the shadows, smiling brightly.
England looked at the figure, feeling as though he recognized him from somewhere. His black pea coat, his familiar red scarf, but his hair was blonde and shoulder length.
"Are you wearing a wig, Peter?" England couldn't help but be blunt, feeling rather confused.
"I guess they haven't gotten here yet then, have they?" The man only smiled as he slowly sat on the bed. "Shame, I was hoping they would have the exposition filled in for me."
England squinted, still trying to focus on him. Something about his hair style looked so familiar. Raising only his hand he pointed to the man's head. "Extensions?"
Peter laughed as he ran a hand through his locks, sticking the tail end in his mouth. "Je avais faim," he said as he grinned, raising his eyebrows in a seductive manner.
England paused, recognizing the language to be French. That's when it clicked. "You have the frog's hair style!"
"Oui oui, monsieur." The man slowly began to stand up, tilting his head in England's direction.
"What is going on here?" England was in no mood for games. "I demand you explain immediately."
"I already explained everything to your little detective friends," the man replied before he laughed, sauntering closer to the nation. He slowly began to run his hand down his jacket, unbuttoning it along the way. "It's not my fault they didn't make it here before me."
England grabbed the gun and cocked it, pointing it at the man. "Explain immediately, or get out of my house."
Peter paused, as he continued to suck on the end of one of his locks of hair. "Fine then," he snickered. "Call me New World. I'm a Nation. And I'm here to kill you." He opened his eyes widely, giving the craziest expression possible.
A sudden rush of pain enveloped England's body as he went crashing to the floor, dropping the gun.
"What the bloody hell?" England asked as he laid on his back clutching his stomach in utter distress.
"Such a pity," New World said as he placed his foot on England's chest, pinning him to the floor. "You're so pretty. I really don't want to kill you, but I need your power." He slowly began to sit down on top of the man's stomach, grabbing his wrists and effectively pinning him down.
"Get the bloody hell off me! What the hell is wrong with you?!" England cried as he struggled against Peter, but this man was freakishly strong, leaving the older nation helpless.
"I'm sorry," New World leaned in close, so his face was mere inches from Arthurs. "But since I ate France, I just can't help myself." He leaned in, slowly placing a kiss on Arthur's lips. "I could do this all night."
"Fuck! Get off me!" Arthur thrashed around, spitting at the man in disgust.
"Come now," New World grinned, hovering over the man as he wiped the nation's spit from his face. "I'm not that bad as a French man, am I?" He slowly slipped off his own belt as he used it to restrain the nation to the dresser legs behind him. "Now, let's have some fun."