Disclaimer: We still don't own Hetalia.
A/N: Just a heads up, we write everything in phonetics because we believe it's easier to read! I apologize if you do not like Sweden's speech. It is very hard to duplicate. And for the Southern slang, we are not Southern so we don't know if we're using it correctly. If you have any suggestions about what you want to see in the story please review and we will take your ideas into heavy consideration. Because I'm an awesome plot-liner like that! And because we both keep open minds.
Who're you?
Anya smiled pleasantly to the man standing before her. "Spasibo (thank you) for flying with Nebo Vysokoye Aeroporta, Mr . . ." she said, handing him the tickets. Norway accepted them without batting an eye.
"Bondevik, thank you." Norway slipped the airplane tickets into his breast pocket. "And I have some precious cargo I need to transport to Denmark on the flight."
"Ne za chto (it's my pleasure). Dima, can you show Mr. Bondevik where to load his cargo onto the plane," Anya said to a young man standing nearby.
"Da, this way, please."
"Please come back anytime, Mr. Bondevik." Anya's smile vanished and she shuddered as Dima led "Mr. Bondevik" away. Something about how the emotionless man had acted freaked her out and she never wanted to deal with him again.
"What are you loading, may I ask?" Dima asked Norway as they arrived at the loading tunnel.
"It's rather private. Spasibo, that will be all, Dima." Norway dismissed the human with a wave of his hand. Dima tipped his hat to the shorter man.
"Da, enjoy your flight." The Russian airline worker left Norway beside the tunnel where Denmark and Sweden met him, carrying a large crate between them.
"Lucas Bondevik?" Denmark sniggered as he carefully backed up, holding one end of the crate while Sweden held the other.
"Shut up, Dan," Norway said in a bored tone. "We don't need them knowing about us. And be careful with that."
"I know, I know," Denmark said, rolling his eyes. Bones popped as he straightened up after setting the heavy crate down. "Do ya really think this will work? I mean, won't he wake up?" he asked.
"I gave America more sedative before we loaded him up," Norway explained. "You may not be able to remember the finer details, but I assure you I can easily remember them."
"Whatever ya say, Norge." The Vikings made their way to the cabin of the plane. Denmark shut the door behind them, latching it shut, then sat in his seat beside Sweden. The taller nation looked out the window, already bored. Norway situated himself directly behind the pilot, facing his fellow Vikings.
"We're ready to go whenever ya are," Denmark called to the pilot.
"Yes, sir." The pilot tipped his hat before turning back to the console of the plane. The Vikings settled back in their seats. Denmark could feel his stomach doing flips. They'd done it! They had succeeded in kidnapping a nation, the superpower of the world for that matter.
"One nation down," Norway mused quietly. "The rest of the world to go." His mind wandered back to the storage bay where an unconscious America was trapped and he smirked. This was too easy.
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The light of the wall of small TVs cast an eerie glow on Russia, flashing off the medals on his coat and the water pipe in his hand. Russia leaned forward, staring intently at a screen that showed an image of the meeting room the nations had been using.
"Where are you, Little America?" The only human agent in the room ignored Russia's conversation with himself. She was used to the nation's strange behavior after seven years of service. Agent Orlov stared intently at the computer monitor before her, her eyes flickered between it and the TV screen Russia was watching. Russia moved to a screen showing the hotel's lobby the nations had been staying in.
"I see Norway, Denmark, and Sweden leave with a box, but not America. Chert (damn)," Russia pinched the bridge of his nose. "Stalin made me paranoid about my fellow nations." Agent Orlove secretly agreed with the nation. Stalin had been a very paranoid leader who had killed his second-in-commands because he'd thought they were going to kill him.
"Ser (sir), is there anything you need?" Agent Orlov swiveled her chair to face the nation. Russia's gaze turned to her and the agent felt her stomach drop in fear. The nation was conflicted, his face a mask of anger, fear, and worry.
"Da, I want you to search for Little America after he left the Scandinavians room. Did any security guards check the box they left with?"
"Net, ser, they did not. We asked all of them." Russia's eye twitched in annoyance.
"And why did they not?" he asked in a cold voice. Agent Orlov, one of the toughest agents on the force, sank back in her chair in fear.
"They said they did not think to, ser," she nearly squeaked out. "Nations come and go with strange objects all the time. Like the time Little America brought an object from his alien friend to the meeting." Russia smiled at the memory. The object had been opened a portal for violent aliens to wander onto Earth. It had taken seven weeks to get rid of them.
'Silly Little America,' Russia thought. His face hardened and he tapped the water pipe in his hand, Agent Orlov's eyes followed the pipe warily.
"Da," Russia finally said. "We do bring strange objects. But if Little America was to disappear while in my country then they would all bla-" he stopped. "Who is that?" he pointed to a TV screen of the outside street. "That little girl." Agent Orlov looked at the girl in question.
"I do not know, ser. She does not look like one of the nations."
"Net, she looks a bit like Little America, do you not think?" Russia cocked his head. "Look into that. But first, call my old friend. I want to know if he has seen anything strange from the satellites."
"Da, ser, I will do so right away." Agent Orlov turned back to her computer monitor, determined. Russia managed to scare everyone he was with but she was determined not to show it or to run and hide.
"Godspodin Russia," a man stood in the doorway of the dark room. Russia turned to the man and the agent wanted to sink into the wall. "Forgive me for interrupting."
"Kolkolkol, what is it?" Russia's eyes narrowed dangerously and the agent gulped. His eyes flashed to the water pipe in Russia's hands before he straightened up.
"Do you not have the hockey game with Godspodin Canada to go to?" the agent tapped his watch.
Russia fiddled with his scarf, his eyes flicked to the TV screens before he answered. "Da. You will remain with Agent Orlov and help. Ask my friend if he has seen any strange activity with Denmark, Norway, or Sweden. And I want to know what was in that box."
"Da, ser." The agent stepped aside as Russia left the room. He moved quickly to Agent Orlov's side at the desk and began working.
Russia tucked his water pipe into his jacket as he walked down the hall. Agents moved out of his way as he strode by purposefully, lost in thought. 'Where are you, Little America? I hope you are alright.'
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America came to with a soft groan. His head pounded and his muscles ached, he was fairly certain he had knots in his back. Turning his head, America froze at the sight of the room. He was laying on one of two beds in a room with two nightstands and a dresser. The shades of a window were open to reveal the beginning of a beautiful sunrise. The clock on the nightstand read "seven a.m." but his watch next to it read "one o'clock."
Ice ran through America's veins. He didn't recognize this room. Where was he? The young nation tried to sit up but his muscles refused to obey. They felt like jelly and would only move an inch.
"What? What's going on?" America thrashed weakly on the bed.
"Wh't's going on?" Sweden stood in the doorway of the room staring at the struggling America. America froze at the sight of the taller nation.
"Wh-What did you do to me? Where am I? Why can't I move?" The questions tumbled over each other in a confused mess of garbled words. Sweden blinked slowly before moving forward silently.
"N'rge gave you s'mething to rel'x you," Sweden said. America tensed as Sweden moved the pillows and propped him into a sitting position. Slowly a memory resurfaced and America's eyes widened.
"You drugged me!" he said in an accusatory voice. "You kidnapped me?" Now America was confused. What did the Scandinavian nations want with him?
"It's f'r your own good, Am'rica," Sweden told him. America puffed out his cheeks in annoyance and frowned.
"My own good? How is kidnapping me 'for my own good'?" he demanded. Sweden didn't answer but left the room, returning moments later with a bowl of steaming food. America felt his stomach grumble quietly but he looked at the bowl distrustfully. His kidnappers wouldn't hesitate to drug him again, would they?
"What are you even doing? Why did you kidnap me?" Sweden ignored the question.
"It's breakf'st time, I thought you l'ked food." Sweden pulled out a chair and sat next to the bed.
"I do, when it's not poisoned. Why did you kidnap me?" America asked again and Sweden, again, ignored him.
"The food's n't pois'ned." Sweden held out a spoonful of oatmeal. "Eat."
"Why did you kidnap me?" America repeated the question. Sweden felt his eye twitch. "I'm going to keep asking until you answer me." Sweden sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"If I t'll you, w'll you eat your breakf'st?" Sweden asked. America looked at the bowl of food for a moment before answering.
"Yes." 'No,' America thought to himself. But if he told the tall nation what he wanted to hear, than maybe he'd find out what was going on.
"You were our son f'rst. England got lucky and made claims f'r you f'rst. We got there too late. We want wh't is rightf'lly ours." America gaped at Sweden like a fish.
"What are you smoking?" he asked in an accusatory tone. Sweden ignored the jibe and held up the spoon of oatmeal.
"You said you would eat. N'w eat your breakf'st."
"No! You're crazy!" America tried to struggle but his body refused to obey him.
"He's not lying, America." Norway stood in the doorway of the room, watching America with a bored expression. "L'Anse aux Meadows was one of our earlier settlements. Granted we only made it into Canada, but we would have had all of you if our plan had succeeded." America mouthed wordlessly. What was wrong with these nations?
"You're crazy!" America finally said. "Crazier than South in Texas in the middle of the night!" He remembered when his sister decided to watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre. She'd refused to leave his Texas house after dark ever since she'd watched the movie.
"Who?" Sweden and Norway stared at America in confusion. Norway wondered if the drugs had addled his brains. "What are you talking about, America?" Norway asked.
America flushed. He'd told them! He had promised South no one would ever know and he had just blurted it out. Maybe he could fix this.
"Nothing!" America said in a slightly hysterical voice.
"Who is South and what do you mean by that?" Norway pressed. America swallowed nervously.
"No one! She's no one!" America flinched. Great, he'd dug himself a deeper grave.
"She?" An eyebrow arched in question. What was going on with America? Why was he talking about "South" and "she's"?
"There is no she because there is not south!" America said hysterically. He was desperate now.
"Calm down, America," Norway moved forward and touched America's shoulder gently. The younger nations flinched at his touch. "What are you talking about?"
"Nothing! What are you talking about?" America tried to smile but failed, giving Norway a crazy grin.
"I think the drugs affected his mind," Norway told Sweden with a shake of his head. America breathed an inward sigh of relief. But he needed to keep up with the act.
"I'm not crazy! You're the ones who think you're Vikings and that I'm you kid." A thought crossed his mind. "Hang on . . . you said Canada was your settlement." His eyes widened. "You're going to go after him, aren't you?"
"He's our son, America, like you," Norway said.
"No! I won't let you!" America struggled to move off the bed but his body still refused to move. Norway watched him with a bored expression. "Leave Canada alone!"
Norway sighed and opened the nightstand, withdrawing a vial and syringe from the drawer. After filling the syringe and pushing any air out, he pricked the struggling America in the neck and injected him with the drugs. Now desperate, America screamed as loud as he could until his lungs ran out of breath. He collapsed against the pillows, chest heaving.
"Leave . . . Canada . . . alone," he panted. "South . . . help!" Norway tossed the syringe into the wastebasket beside the nightstand and turned to leave the room.
"I'm going to get an IV to feed America. He at least needs nutrients," Norway said. As he left the room Sweden smoothed America's hair away from his face.
"It's okay, Am'rica, p'ppa's h're," Sweden said soothingly. America moaned and tossed his head.
"N-no . . . Canada . . . South . . ." Sweden frowned. Maybe America was drugged enough to answer a question for once.
"Am'rica," Sweden said cautiously. "Who is South?" America's eyes flicked to Sweden and the young nation smiled lazily.
"South is south," America told Sweden with a giggle. ". . . is south . . . is south . . .is-" America broke down into hysterical giggles. Sweden sighed heavily.
"Go to sleep, Am'rica." Sweden rose from his seat to shut the blinds then left the room.
America waited for the door to shut, extinguishing any light, before he stopped giggling. Hopefully Sweden and Norway had bought his act. Closing his eyes, America focused as hard as he could.
'South, help me. The Nordics have kidnapped me. If you can hear this, get Iggy.'
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Canada stood with Kumajirou at the front gate of America's West Virginia home, watching a strange girl dance around the yard. She picked up everyday objects, inspected them, and tossed them far away from their positions, all the while singing:
"I wish I was in the land of cotton,
Old times they are not forgotten;
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land.
In Dixie Land where I was born,
Early on one frosty orning,
Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Land."
The girl spun in a circle, giggling slightly. Kumajirou cocked his head and he watched the girl with curiosity. Snapping out of his daze, Canada opened the front gate, closing it after him and the polar bear. Kumajirou looked up at his owner.
"Who are you?" The girl stopped in her spinning and looked at the bear and nation.
"Um, I don't know. Who do y'all think you are anyway?" The girl crossed her arms and stared at Canada intently. She had the twang of a southern drawl. Canada fidgeted nervously. Who was this girl? Was she a friend of America's; if she was, then why was she at his house?
"Huh? Oh! I'm Canada," Canada introduced himself. "And this is Kumatachi, but I just call him Kuma. Who are you?" he asked. The girl suddenly became nervous, shifting from foot to foot.
"Um, details not important," she said in her sweet southern accent.
"Are you a friend of America's?" Canada pressed the girl, looking her over. She was slim, wearing jeans shorts, calf-high leather boots, and a plaid shirt tied above her stomach. A cowboy's hat covered her two pigtails.
"Who?" the girl asked, pulling a confused face.
"America, this nation," Canada said. The girl was panicking now. She fiddled with the tied ends of her shirt.
"Um, I don't know America." Kumajirou sniffed the air.
"You smell like him," the polar bear said. Canada ignored him.
"Um, anyway, have you seen America around?" Canada asked.
"America? I don't know any America. Do you have a picture?" Canada sighed and withdrew his wallet, showing her the picture in the pocket. It was a picture of the North America brothers with England at America's birthday party.
"This is America, the man on the left." The girl leaned forward to look at the picture better. Her face suddenly brightened.
"Oh! You mean North. Yeah, I saw him. How do you know him?" Canada frowned. It wasn't that surprising that she didn't recognize him, none of the nations did. But why did she call America "North?" And was she bipolar?
"I'm his younger brother," Canada told her. "The country above him.
"You're his brother?" The girl cocked her head, thinking, then stomped her foot. "You ain't his brother!" she practically shouted. Canada jumped in surprise.
"What do you mean? Of course I am. I'm practically his twin!"
"No!" the girl was screeching now. "You ain't his brother!" A black head popped out from around the side of the house and a small black bear waddled out. "Oh," the girl instantly calmed down. "Who're you?" she asked the bear.
"Smokey," the bear told her, with a look like he got the question a lot. Kumajirou approached Smokey, sniffing him. He sat back and looked the black bear over.
"You smell like America," Kumajirou said. Smokey considered him coldly.
"You smell like stupid," Smokey told him. Kumajirou growled and dropped into a threatening stance.
"Stupid is as stupid does, dummy."
"Kuma!" Canada chastised his pet bear. Smokey snarled angrily at Kumajirou.
"I'll tear you apart!" Smokey said, crouching down.
"Get him, Smokey, get that yaller dog!" the girl cheered the little bear on.
"Not if I do it first!" Kumajirou snarled.
"No! Kuma!" Canada turned to the girl. "Don't encourage them," he told her. The girl ignored him and watched the bears with childish excitement.
"Get him! Get him!" The girl was jumping up and down enthusiastically. Kumajirou charged forward and seized Smokey's back leg in his strong jaws.
"Kuma!" Canada grabbed Kumajirou around the middle but had to pull back when Smokey clamped his teeth in a vice-like grip on Kumajirou's back. The polar bear whined in pain but refused to release the black bear. Canada turned back to the girl.
"Who the maple are you and why do you have such a violent bear?" Kumajirou scratched Smokey's soft underbelly and the black bear whined in pain. The girl's attitude flipped completely.
"SMOKEY!" The girl lunged forward and began yanking at the black bear, crying hysterically. "Let him go, you no 'count varmint!" Kumajirou snarled and snapped at her, releasing Smokey.
"Kuma!" Canada grabbed the polar bear. "Answer my question! Who are you?" he demanded. The girl ignored Canada and sobbed into Smokey's fur, hugging him tightly.
"Smokey, please don't die. Don't leave me!"
"Where's America?" Canada demanded. Kumajirou licked his injuries.
"Not here," the polar bear said. "He never left."
"North never left?" The girl looked up slowly. "Where's my big brother?" she asked in a quiet voice. Canada froze.
"Your . . . big brother?" he repeated slowly. "Wait! Kuma, what do you mean he never left?" Kumajirou looked up at Canada and yawned.
"He went for hot chocolate but he didn't go to your hockey game with Russia. Congratulations on winning, by the way."
"That's not important right now!" Canada said in an exasperated voice. Kumajirou yawned again.
"He never left the hotel. You and Russia were the last people to leave that place." Smokey looked up from his spot in the girl's arms.
"Well, what are you going to do, bastard?" Kumajirou snarled and snapped at him.
"Shut up, you poor excuse for a bear."
"Kuma!" Canada groaned. The last thing he needed was another fight.
"I am so going to put a trap on your nose!" Smokey wriggled around in the girl's arms.
"Stop it, Smokey, you'll only get hurt," the girl told the black bear.
"Yeah? Well I'm going to take you to Canada and drop you down an oil well!" Kumajirou struggled in Canada's arms.
"Kuma, knock it off or I'll let the Netherlands babysit you again." Kumajirou froze.
"That stupid smoking guy didn't feed me all weekend."
"She does that to me all the time." Smokey patted the girl on the head with a paw.
"Exactly!" Canada looked up at the girl. "So . . . America is missing?"
"Darn tootin' North is missin'. What do I do?" the girl asked Canada.
"I'm going to talk to Russia. If he took America, he'll be sorry."
"That means my owner is better," Kumajirou smirked, continuing his fight with Smokey.
"Kuma! The Netherlands!" Canada threatened.
"I'll stop."
"Good. Listen," Canada told the girl. "Why don't you stay here while I go talk to Russia?" Canada left the yard, shutting the gate behind him.
"She doesn't mean to." Smokey cocked his head at Kumajirou. "She simply has no attention span."
"I'm sorry! I'll do better, I swear!" the girl hugged Smokey tightly. Kumajirou grumbled but didn't say anything. Canada stopped and looked back at the girl.
"Just . . . stay here. Okay, miss?" He began to make his way to his rental car.
"Okay. And Canada . . ."
"Yeah?" Canada turned back to the girl. The girl looked up innocently from the ground.
"You can call me South." Canada blinked but smiled softly and nodded.
Goodbye . . . South." He left for his car, Kumajirou grumbling the whole way. The polar bear turned in his owner's arms.
"Oil well in Canada!" he shouted at Smokey.
"Bear trap on your noggin to kill what's left!" the black bear retorted.
"I'll set a moose on you!
"KUMA!"
Details not important.