"So I say we build a huge wall around the earth and that way we'll be able to keep all of the ozone on the inside!" shouted America across the meeting room.
"Shut up you farce! Take this seriously" England shouted back.
"Practice what you preach. You're giving me a headache" said Russia.
Already, at 7:00 AM Eastern Standard Time, the G8 were in a conversational war: insults flinging every way, the occasional scream, and Italy napping in the corner.
"Shut up you idiots!" When Germany had enough and shouted was normally the turning point of the meeting.
The room silenced, per usual, to listen to Germany shout about how lazy and unfocused they all were. After that they would give a half-assed attempt to listen to each other, but the sarcasm and overflowing egoism would eventually trump any actual productivity and the room would revert to its original loud state.
Yep, the meeting was a normal one, until the final ten minutes when there was a knock at the wooden double doors. The knocking went unheeded by the bickering nations, but then the door burst open and a swath of men and women in black suits and shades overflowed the room. The lined the walls, pulled down shades, checked nooks/crannies, and then shut the door behind them with three men guarding it.
"What's happening? What's happening? Germany I'm scared I just want to sleep and dream of the pretty ladies what's going on?" Italy was woken up from his nap and clung to Germany's back.
"Oy what the bloody hell is the meaning of all this!" shouted England.
A single man in a long black coat and a fedora walked to the head of the meeting room table, a medical mask covering his mouth.
"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Grieves, head of the International Counter Track, or I.C.T for short. Now listen well because the information you're about to hear is of utmost confidentiality." He clapped his hands twice and the room of guards began to clear out single line, leaving only one man and one woman in the room to watch the door.
"They're deaf you know; can't be too careful." He looked to the two remaining watchmen who turned around so they're backs were to the room.
"What is all this? Who do you think you are, coming in wearing that unstylish mess?" said France.
"I understand that this is a very strange situation for you all, so I'll begin with the basic information. I am the head of I.C.T. We've existed on an international scale since the early 1900s. However, it was only around the mid-1900s did the I.C.T gain traction within the bureaucracy. Since we were born from "conspiracies", it took a while for the I.C.T to take hold."
He took a pause and scanned the room's faces: confusion, anger, condescension.
"See in the beginning there were two individuals, one male and one female, to represent a landmass. However, around 1824, there was a mass exodus of memory. Counterparts, mainly female but not all, disappeared without a trace and your minds were wiped of their existence as were the memories of any others who knew of their existence."
"Hold on their buckaroo. Now I know you're balls deep in crazy sauce. If each nation has a counterpart, then that means over a hundred individuals disappeared into thin air? And nobody remembers them? How is that even possible? And mind wipe? What is this Men in Black?" America scoffed at Grieves and leaned back into his chair. "Why don't we just kick this weirdo out? Like, what the hell?"
"I hate to say it but America has a point." Japan said.
Grieves wasn't fazed.
"You're talking about one of the world's greatest unsolved mysteries son, but that's why I'm here today. See, they couldn't erase every single memory; so while their identities became little more than folklore to some, others never let it go. And those they missed came together and created the I.C.T to uncover this grand heist of memory and return those AWOL nations to their rightful responsibilities."
"So why now? Why are we only now hearing about this?" France asked sarcastically, obviously unconvinced.
"We couldn't spread this information further than it had to go or else a counterpart might hear something and take the upper hand. But the game's changed."
He walked to the door and tapped at the guards. They opened the doors and in came multiple watchmen trying to constrain a singular woman in a long blue dress and a dirtied apron. She was handcuffed and had duct tape on her mouth. Another watchman came in with a pair of glasses in their hand.
They sat the woman down and cuffed her hands and legs to the chair, two men holding the back of the chair down to keep her from tipping amidst her struggle.
They brought in a much calmer woman who walked as though she was walking to the gallows. Her eyes were void of guilt or conscience, her face stone cold, her chin high. She had no duct tape compared to the first girl, but her hands were still handcuffed. She sat down, making sure her long white skirt rested comfortably under her. They cuffed her to the chair as well.
As she sat down, she leaned over and whispered something to the other girl to make her stop struggling.
"Where's the final one?" Grieves asked the guards collectively.
"We were unable to appropriately constrain her, so we left her in the holding block" said one guard with a black eye.
Grieves gave a sigh. "Get her now or this won't be as convincing a situation."
"Why?"
"NOW!"
The guard ran out and the doors shut behind him.
Grieves walked behind the two women's chairs and looked back at the men. "I would like to introduce to you two of the eight women who we believe are the root of this entire mystery."
He nodded to one of the guards holding down the duct taped woman's chair and they ripped the duct tape off.
"Bollucks that hurt!" She shouted in a thick British accent.
"This is the United Kingdom, now known as Alice Kirkland." He motioned his hand to the stoic woman. "This is France, now known as Francoise Bonnefoy."
"T'is a displeasure" she said, her voice a French to a fault.
The nations had no words. They had no basis of comprehension.
"This isn't true. It can't be. It's too ridiculous." Germany rubbed the rim of his nose.
"It's true, and we have the blood tests to prove it." Grieves pulled out a sheet of paper and threw it on the table.
"Now we have a theory that prolonged time with your counterpart will trigger your own memories. So your bosses have cleared us to have you visit these women in their holding cells until further notice. We'll be scanning cognitive changes during the visits and go from there. And, while America, France, and England are necessary, the rest of you visiting ever so often could help move along the memory recall process. We also need you to help find the remaining five accomplices."
"The fuck with that! I'm not wasting my time on something this idiotic!" England shouted.
"Yeah!"
"getting kind of loud eh?"
"Gentlemen, we have your bosses ready for your call for questions. They have been briefed on the situation and are aware of the oddity of it."
"Very well. If you will, allow us to waste our bosses' times with this." Germany said as he pulled out his phone.
"Ja Mrs. Merkel?" The call was short and the room was silent for once to listen. He put down the phone.
Germany sighed. "It's true..." the room burst back into chaos.
"WAIT!" the room went silent and looked to America. "You called out France, brow boy, and me. Why me? Only chick France and England are here!"
And in that moment, the double doors bashed through, debris flying everywhere. A girl with a blond bob and a dirtied/bruised body came rushing into the room, her fists up in the fighting position. Behind her was a trail of unconscious guards.
"I'm not going back! You can't make me go back ever!" She saw America and went wide eyed before charging him. "You can't hurt me anymore!" He barely dodged her death punch, but he still saw its strength. It was a strength he'd only seen in himself.
Mid punch her body strained and she collapsed, a dart shot into her back by a remaining guard. Her unconscious body was instinctively caught by a rather fazed America.
"That, Mr. America, is Amelia F. Jones, formerly your partner as the United States of America."