Canada sat in the taxi glaring at his former guardian. The French nation had refused to give him any more information on what happened to America, and also refused to tell why they were racing to his apartment. The ride had been quiet so far, which was odd since Prussia and Germany were in the cab with them. Canada imagined that if Germany wasn't going to talk, then at least Prussia would burst out something completely irrational just to break the silence. He didn't utter a word though. He continued to stare out the window, leaning over Germany to get a better view.

"F-Francis," he called out trying to get his attention. The blond barely let out a murmur and continued scrolling down his phone, "Francis," he tried again, but his response was the same. Canada rolled his eyes and snatched the phone out of his hands. France looked up at him, but still didn't say anything. Canada glanced down at France's phone in his hands to see a blank screen, "Is your phone even on?"

France shrugged, "Possibly. I put it on lock and I don't know how to unlock it."

Canada glared at him, "So you have been pretending to scroll down your phone?"

With another shrug from France, Canada let out a frustrated sigh. "So nobody is going to talk about Ame- Alfred?" He stole a cautious side-glance at the taxi driver before continuing, "you get a phone call from Arthur who says that Alfred's in serious danger, and now we are in the taxi on the way to his house, and nobody wants to talk about it?"

"There isn't anything to talk about," France stated passively.

Anger swelled up in the usually timid Canadian, as his passive attitude molded into aggression. "'I-Isn't anything to talk about,' you say! Alfred's in danger, that's what we have to talk about! Did Arthur say anything else? Did he have a stroke, is something going on with the people or the government or-or I don't know!" He threw his hands up in defeat, "did anybody call the cops?"

France gave him a look of sympathy, "I know that you're upset with him being your brother and all, but the cops can't get involved."

"Why not?" He asked desperately. "H-How would you know?"

Something gleamed in France's eyes that made Canada flinch. France leaned forward and he had a far off look as if he weren't there anymore, it gave Canada chills. "His voice," France murmured. "He only uses that voice every couple of centuries."

"What about his voice?" Canada demanded. Prussia planted his hand firmly on Canada's shoulder and squeezed, telling him not to press any further.

France responded anyways, "In his voice, was fear. This was a certain kind of fear though, one that only comes around every once in a while. It is a natural fear with our kind, it is the fear of one of us desolving."

Canada's eyes were as wide as saucers now and he stared at France in shock, "you d-don't mean-"

"No," France stated. "His country is strong, it's not going anywhere for a very long time."

"B-but what about A-Al-"

Canada cut himself off when he noticed the sadness that reflected from France's eyes. "I don't know how it would happen, but the danger is real. I could hear it in his voice."

Canada felt sick to his stomach and tears welled up in his eyes. "Here," he croaked as he unlocked the phone for France and tossed it in his lap. He no longer felt like talking along with every other nation in the cab. He numbly gazed at France, eyes pleading for him to say that everything was going to be alright, but nothing of the sort came from the country. France was once again staring far off into nothing and absent-mindedly scrolling through his phone.

France always had an expression that went along with his emotion. He was one of the more expressive and sensitive countries. Looking at his eyes, Canada saw fragile blankness.

Canada was a listener; the ultimate wall-flower. He had learned to read emotions past the superficial surface. Beneath the placid surface of his "Papa's" violet-blue eyes, a storm was brewing.

The cab came to a stop and was now parked outside of America's apartment. Germany thanked the taxi driver and gave him a suspiciously grand tip, for he was unsure exactly how much the man had requested. The taxi driver almost exited the cab to kiss Germany for the large sum of money he was given, but Germany didn't notice him. The stern and focused man was on a mission. As the ecstatic taxi driver drove off, another taxi parked and out came Spain, Romano, Italy, and Japan. They all stood in front of a modern brick building. There was a hedge-lined black metal fence guarding two small sections of grass on each side of the house. Slim stone steps led to a large wooden door that America had shoved open to eagerly welcome his guests many times.

England popped up from behind a rectangular hedge, causing Canada to jump. "I was waiting for you." France stepped towards the English country and was about to say something, but England hushed him with a wave of his hand. "Listen closely," he whispered. "There's someone in there, and it is not America." That statement silenced every comment that was about to be made about how hilariously crazy he looked at the moment.

The nations creeped up the front steps and stared cautiously at the door. Japan was the first one who pulled open the door slowly to avoid any noise it would make. "Try to stay along the wall," he warned barely above a whisper. "This is a very old building, the floorboards are lose in the middle of the hallway and will make a lot of noise. The edges are more secure, for they are supported by the wall." When receiving understanding nods from the others, Japan started to lead the others into the building. In a single file line they light-footedly followed Japan along the wall.

They were greeted with a dull looking hallway covered in worn wooden floors and aged wallpaper. To the right of the hallway was a set of wooden stairs that led to the second floor. Canada was never able to understand this building. The outside was modern, the hallways were ancient, and the apartments were whatever the residents made them into. America's apartment was modish with a slight New York theme to it. It was the first apartment to the left, giving him one of the front windows to the building. That worried him, what if they were already noticed by the person who was in there?

They reached America's apartment, and everybody stared at the door, not knowing who was beyond it. Canada stepped up and offered to hold his ear against the hollow wood. Monotone murmuring came from the TV, and soft footsteps padded through the house. He gave a small nod to the others, indicating that there was indeed someone in there. His heart nearly jumped when he realized that the footsteps were getting closer and closer to the door. Then they stopped.

Canada was shaking when he lifted his ear from the door. He slightly leaned forward and his eyes lingered over a small crack in the door, where he would usually be able to see part of the apartment through it. Instead the only thing he saw was a gray eye staring back at him. Canada jumped back almost as quickly as the person on the other side of the door did. "H-Hey!" Canada called out. There was no reply. The TV was turned off and the footsteps disappeared. Canada lifted his leg and pushed it into the door with all of the force he could muster. The door came flying down and Canada burst into the apartment. The rest followed to be greeted by silence.

"They're hiding and waiting for the right time to sneak out," Germany commanded. "I'll guard the door. Italies; kitchen. Prussia and Spain; bathroom. Japan and Canada; bedrooms. England and France will check the media room. Go!" Everybody separated in pairs and began searching the house.

Canada and Japan ran through the apartment until they reached a very short hallway with a door on each side, "There are two bedrooms," Japan panted. "You check America's and I'll check the guest bedroom, alright?" Then Japan cautiously stepped into the room on the left side of the hallway, leaving Canada staring at the right.

Canada tip-toed over to the door and slowly eased it open. Light emitted into the room for a moment until he closed the door behind him, once again leaving the room in darkness. The room was very still. Ruffled sheets were piled onto the bed, showing that it was used over the night, and a couple of comic books were loitering around. The only thing moving was the white bathrobe that was hung on the door, slightly swinging from when Canada closed it. Canada's heart thumped as he wondered where to search first. His eyes scanned over the closed closet door, but after seeing a shadow underneath the bed, he decided to search there first. He crouched down and crawled over to the bed. His breathing grew sharp and his pulse quickened. He didn't even know what he was going to do if the invader was in here with him.

As he crawled closer to the bed, the shadow started to take shape. It was large, bulky, and by the shape of it, the figure was curled up. Canada stayed there for a moment, on his hands and knees, eyeing the thing, then he launched himself at it. His elbows banged against the bottom of the bed, and his long hair curl entangled with something under there, but he didn't care. His hands gripped a material that felt like the rough jeans and he struggled with it for a minute or two. He let out a grunt before being able to finally drag it out from under the bed, to find out that it was really... light. Canada paused to examine the thing. On the floor besides him was a large bulky suitcase, which he now had an iron grip on. He was wrestling a suitcase... Canada threw his head back and let out a frustrated groan at his discovery. A quick and discreet movement caught his attention.

The closet door was now open.

Canada felt something drop in the pit of his stomach when he suddenly felt an object being pushed against his head. As slowly as possible, he turned slightly to see the last thing he was hoping for; the object was a gun. "Get up." The male voice was sharp and commanding. Canada followed the demand instantly and shot up from the floor, causing the person to hiss, "not so fast!"

Canada slowly raised both of his hands and turned around when he was steadily on his feet. A man a couple inches shorter than himself pointed a gun at him. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but his short hair looked brown and he had a gray eye that almost shined in a metallic way, the other eye was closed, Canada guessed that it was to perfect his dead-on aim on the gun. "Who are you?" Canada asked barely above a whisper.

The man smiled cynically. "It's not like you haven't heard that question before. Right Canada?" Canada's eyes widened when he called him by his country name. This man knew what they are! "You shouldn't be questioning me with a gun in hand by the way. One wrong word and my finger could slip, blowing your head clean off your shoulders. Or it could be messy. Now you're going to help me out of here, alright?"

Canada kept his eyes on the gun, it was just out of arms reach. "W-Why should I help you?" Canada asked. He just needed him an inch closer.

The man took that as a challenge and took a step further, drawing the gun closer as a threat, "You think that I won't use this?"

Canada's hand shook when the gun came closer. He had watched this in many of America's spy movies. In the blink of an eye, Canada swung his fist at the gun and knocked it out of the man's hands. The weapon flew to the other side of the room, leaving the man staring after it dumbfounded. "JAPAN!" Canada screamed at the top of his lungs. He launched himself at the man, but he easily dodged him. As Japan slammed the bedroom door open, the man flew past him before he even knew what was going on. "That was him!" Japan whipped around and ran down the hallway. Canada scrambled for the gun before following him.

The apartment was in chaos. Spain and Prussia were banging on the bathroom door, for they were locked in. France and England were having the same problem in the media room until one of them kicked down the door. The man was now in the kitchen. He swung open the fridge door and grabbed a full gallon of milk. He then chucked the gallon on the floor. The plastic exploded and the milk streamed everywhere. Italy and Romano were now on the floor, one crying and the other one cursing. Every time it looked like one of them were about to get up, they would slip once again on the white liquid. The brunett hopped onto the counter and escaped the kitchen. When he landed, he was almost tackled to the floor by France and England, but once again slipped away from anyone's grip, and was even able to deliver quite a blow to the face to France. Canada tried to aim the gun at him, but wasn't able to get a steady shot. He was moving too fast and dodged behind furniture when he knew he was in range.

When he had reached the living room, instead of running for the door like everybody had anticipated, he ran to the window. He leaped over the couch and barreled through the glass. "No!" One of them called out. Canada ran to the window. The man was now to his feet and hopped over the hedge. Germany raced outside with Canada close behind him. When they burst out of the apartment, they stared desperately up and down the street. Germany ran to the left and Canada to the right. Canada sprinted down the sidewalk until he saw a body lying on the street about seven buildings from the apartment.

The man's brown hair was now matted with blood and his skin had shards of glass jutting out of crudely carved gashes. The only man crazy enough to wear a scarf during July stood over him with a metal drain pipe that was dripping with the man's blood. "Russia? What are you doing here?" Canada asked through pants.

Russia glanced up at him, "Oh hello, America. I decided to come over because I forgot to give you your present, then I saw this man crash through your window. I thought he broke in, so I took him down with this pipe. Good thing I was here, da?"

Canada had to stop himself from groaning, "Russia, I am not America, remember? I am Canada, America's brother."

Russia paused and studied the man through squinted eyes, "What? You sure look like America."

Canada took a deep breath, "Yes, but I'm not him. That man did break into America's apartment though. I'm bringing him back for questioning. Thank you. Without you, he would have gotten away."

Russia bent down and picked up a wrapped present off of the floor, "I will go with you then!"

Canada wasn't quite sure about having another nation involved. He wasn't even sure what was happening, where America was, or what kind of situation they were all in, let alone whether or not it would be a good idea to bring Russia with him back to the apartment. But he didn't have much of a choice. Russia made a better friend than enemy and did help him catch the intruder, so it was only polite to allow him to help out more. Canada sighed, "I guess that you can come. We should go back to the apartment before we attract a crowd." Canada crouched down and gently lifted up the man.

They both walked back to the apartment in silence. When they reached the front door, Germany came rushing up to them. "He wasn't that way, did you-" He cut himself off after seeing the man in his arms and Russia walking besides him. "What happened, and what is Russia doing here?"

"Russia knocked him out with his pipe," Canada explained. He carried the man into the building and laid him down on the lavender couch when he entered the apartment. Everybody was still recovering from such an unexpected event. One of them unlocked the bathroom and Spain and Prussia were now helping the Italy brothers get up without slipping again. Their fists were bright red from banging on the door. Japan was mopping up the milk, making it easier for Spain and Prussia to help out. England was now out in the hallway, the other residents heard all of the ruckus and were now asking questions. He gave them all satisfying answers without giving away too much and they soon returned to their apartments. France was inspecting his newly received black eye before he started to help Germany reattach the door to the wall.

Russia soon joined Canada next to the couch, "Who is he?"

Canada shook his head, "I have no idea. I don't know anything about this." Right now Canada was craving an explanation more than anything. He had too many questions that deserved answers, and he was determined to get them soon.

After a while everything seemed to calm down. All of the other residents were gone, the door was once again reconnected to the wall, the kitchen was clean, and everybody was in the living room. England sat on the other couch, explaining everything thing that happened. From the beginning of the phone call to the moment they arrived at America's apartment, and Canada was more than a little shocked. While America had a lot of enemies, Alfred as a person was loveable. He could be blind and annoying, but Canada couldn't imagine any personification wishing to kill him. One of the many things that bothered Canada was that there was more than one person who attacked America. Not only couldn't he imagine a personification trying to kill America, but he couldn't even begin to think about this person having allies.

Romano turned his head to gaze at the unconscious figure spread on the couch. "So what do we do with the bastardo?"

"We question him, find out who he works with, and where America is." England stated.

Canada eyed the man with caution, "I think that he's a personification, too."

Everybody turned their attention to him, "Are you sure?"

Canada nodded, "He referred to me as Canada."

The was a pause, "It's true," England stated. "The text message referred to me as the United Kingdom."

Russia took a step forward and rested his hand on the man's head where he was hit with the pipe. He took it back and stared at the others, ignoring the blood that coated his hand. "I agree with you, his wound is already healing without any medical treatment at all." Canada would have felt bad for the personification if he didn't believe he kidnapped his brother, the man's wounds most likely healed around the shards of glass planted in his skin. Canada knew from experience that to get every piece of glass out takes a lot of time, and exceptional amounts of pain.

"So, since we're questioning him, shouldn't we tie him up or something?" Prussia asked. "After all, this one's slippery, he could probably get away with no problem."

Canada shook his head. With a tentative but proud smile, he took the gun out for all eyes to see, "I don't think that's going to happen if he has this pointed at him." The other nations looked at him in surprise.

Russia began brightly. "Besides, even though it's healing, I did leave a big nasty dent in his head. That's going to leave a head ache, so he won't jump through the window again." As Russia finished his sentence, the mysterious personification began to stir. Every nation in the room tensed up as the man let out a groan.

"What the fuck happened?" he grumbled in an accent that Canada wasn't able to recognize. He sluggishly planted a hand over his indented head, "Did I go drinking again?" He hesitated as he probably felt warm liquid through his red-stained hair. He held his hand in front of his squinted eyes. His eyes widened slightly in shock and he instantly threw one of his hands over his left eye. He propped himself up to a sitting position, which seemed like a painful task for him due to his wincing and the amount of cuss words he mouthed. He slouched forward and scanned the area. After realizing what kind of situation he was in, he leaned back against the couch and crossed his legs, "oh."

England gestured to the gun pointed at him, "Yeah, oh. Now, what is your name?"

"Jay Excelsior," he answered almost too easily.

Romano looked up. "A latin name. It means 'Ever Upward'."

Germany stared at him, "You know. Most people who end up captured after trying to run away from them usually hesitate before giving any information away. Is that your real name?"

Jay shrugged, not saying anymore. Japan kneeled next to the couch, and started to inspect his wounds. The moment Japan even slightly brushed against his hand, Jay hissed and drew it back, "Do you mind? That hurts like a bitch!" Even though the way he talked was very laid back, and the accent he had earlier was caked over with an average America accent.

Japan stared at his hand for a moment. There was a red stripe that wrapped all the way around his wrist, it almost shined as he stared at it, "Is that a tattoo?"

Jay glared at him, "There are glass shards sticking out of my hand, and that's what you're looking at? Wow, what a help you are in the medical field." His tone was dry and sarcastic, and he rested his hand on his side.

Japan pointed to his left hand that covered his eye, "Is something wrong with your eye?"

Jay shrugged, "It hurts, I might have gotten glass in it."

"Will you let me see it? It will bring you harm later if you do not tend to it."

"How? Why can't you just let it be?" He turned his head and held his hand closer to his eye when Japan learned forward to get a better look.

Japan reached for his hand once again, but Jay squirmed in his seat to avoid any contact, "That would be because your wounds will heal over and around glass shards that went into your skin when you jumped out of the window. You have to let me see or else you're going to get an infection."

Jay stubbornly shook his head, "I'll take the infection, just don't touch me."

"So you're a personification?" France pressed.

The man tore his gaze from Japan and stared at France in confusion, "A what?"

"A country. your wound healed very quickly, that would be because it wasn't caused by anything effecting your country."

Jay shook his head, "I don't know what you're talking about. People can't be countries."

Canada had the gun pointed at him, "You know that's a lie. Answer the question or I'll shoot."

Jay let out a dry laugh, "You might as well just shoot me now. I'm not going to say a word, so the only thing that I'm doing is wasting your damn time. Besides, even if I do answer all of your questions, you're going to shoot me anyway."

Canada's gaze softened, "You really believe that we would do that?"

Jay stared back at him, hatred reflected off of his gray eye, "Of course, you're countries. You guys only care for someone if it's for your own benefit, and when they're no longer useful, you throw them away. You're monsters." Canada flinched as he spat the title at them. There was a hint of satisfaction though, because he gave away that he does know about countries, which officially declares him as a suspect.

"Well what are you then, a saint?" England asked. It looked like all of his patience ran out. He leaned over the coffee table, "What exactly are you, and why did you kidnap America?"

The last question seemed to throw him off, "Wait, what about America?"

Spain rolled his eyes, "Oh please. Don't act like you don't know. Now where's America?" Jay stared back blankly at him, concern actually flashed in his eyes. The Spanish nation then took a step back in shock. "Dios mio! You don't know?"

An argument broke out between the nations, leaving Jay sitting there dumbfounded. "Hey, guys." He was ignored. Jay stared towards the door, probably wondering if he could just walk out unnoticed, but then there was still the question of what happened to America. He shot up from his seat and glared at the group, "HEY, EVERYBODY SHUT UP!" The arguing died down and everybody stared at the mystery personification, "Now what happened to America?"

England crossed his arms, "So now you suddenly start caring about us 'monsters' when America's name is mentioned? What exactly is your connection with him?"

Fear flashed through Jay's eyes, "Doesn't matter, now what happened to America?" Canada noticed how quickly his American accent was slipping as his concern grew.

England looked like he wanted to argue, but France landed a hand on his shoulder, "Just tell him."

England sighed in annoyance. He obviously didn't trust this personification enough to give any information away, "I was on the phone with him, and I heard a door close. America said that they were just guests dropping off a late birthday present, but when he tried to talk to him, they didn't respond. Then they attacked him. America almost made it out of there, but then they brought out a gun..."

Jay stared at him, horrified, "So America was shot, and here you are arguing with me?" Jay started pacing back and forth in anger, Canada was wondering whether he should make him sit down or not. "Why are you-" His pacing stopped, and he turned to England, eyes wide in horror and realization, "You think that I had something to do with this!?" He reached into his jean pockets and pulled out a disposable phone, "So I'm guessing that America failed to mention over the phone that he was in D.C. and not in New York."

England raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise, "What?" Jay pressed a couple of buttons before tossing it to the English nation. Canada leaned over his shoulder to see a voicemail playing. England put it on speaker for the rest to hear.

"One new voicemail from: America. Sent at: 11:14 AM"

"Yo, Empire! I just arrived at the house, and I left a couple of things at the apartment, do you mind if you bring them next time you come over? I'll text you the list. Call me back!"

The call ended and everybody was looking up at Jay now, "Wow! You're an empire?" Italy asked.

Jay shrugged and snatched the phone back from England. "There, ya see? I'm not some physco killer or anything. Well thank you for breaking the door down and leaving me with no other choice but to jump out the window, it's been fun. I'll be leaving now, and good luck with whatever else you're going to be doing. Have a good day!" His American accent returned and he turned towards the door

He started to walk off before Germany caught him by the back of his shirt and lowered him back on the couch, causing Jay to hiss in pain, "Not so fast, we still have questions."

Jay glared at the German nation, "What else is there to ask?"

Italy hesitated, "Oh! I know! I can think of a lot! What are you doing in America's apartment? Why did America call you Empire? Are you America's friend? Do you have any pasta in this house? What's your favorite color? Also, why in the world would you waste so much milk!?"

"I wasn't intending on wasting the milk, pasta's in the pantry, and my favorite color's blue, what's yours?"

Romano let out a frustrated groan, "Why in the world did I tag along with these stupido people? Right now I could be on a plane on my way to a continent that makes sense, but no! Now I'm stuck with these bastardos until this stubborn assino answers some meaningful questions, and why? I know why! It's because Italy just had to see the Empire State Building! It's just a damn sky scraper, there's nothing special about it!"

Canada's eyes widened and his head whipped to Romano, "Say that again!"

Romano cowered at his intense gaze. "There's nothing special about it? I mean… uh…It's a lovely landmark? Si, that's what I said. I was not insulting the mediocre architecture of your brother, no, not at all!"

He shook his head, "No, not that! What building did we go to?"

"The Empire State Building!" Italy chimed in.

"Why's it called the Empire State Building?" He quizzed.

"It's in New York?" Spain guessed.

Canada nodded eagerly, "and what's New York?"

"The Empire State..." England finished.

Prussia stared at his phone, "It say here that 'Excelsior' is the motto of New York."

Everybody turned to Jay, who stared back at them horrified. He let out a smooth laugh, but nothing was able to hide the fear in his showing eye. "You guy's aren't serious. That's your conclusion? Wow, I have to admit that I didn't think you were that dumb."

"You're a state!" England raged, "exactly how long was America planning to hide this from us?"

Jay shot up from his seat, "I am not! You don't know anything! You can't just jump to conclusions like that!" He started to walk away, but Canada reached out and yanked his hand from covering his left eye. Canada didn't know what to expect; blood, a long piece of glass, a missing eye, or something worse. He just couldn't help but think about all of the guests at the party. They had to be connected some how, Jay didn't jump out the window head first, and then he claimed that he just happened to get glass in the same eye everybody covered at the party, Canada doubted that was the truth. And Canada was right. Jay slowly turned around and opened his eye slightly. There was no blood, or glass. His left eye was solid dark blue, and a shining white star was in the center, acting as the pupil. Canada gasped and stumbled backwards, using the couch to catch himself.

Jay winced at his reaction, "Looks that weird, huh? It came with the ratification to the union." He closed his eyes and sighed, then he turned around to face the other nations, "I guess I should give you a proper introduction then, my name is New York." His voice was more gentle and he slipped into the complete Brooklyn accent he tried to hide before, "and yes, I am a state."

Germany took a deep breath, "Alright, New York, you are going to sit down and answer our questions now, truthfully."

The personification of New York crossed his arms, "No. I already said too much."

Germany narrowed his eyes, "You might want to do as we say. From the looks of it, this whole state thing is supposed to be a secret. We won't hesitate to tell all of the other nations that you exist."

New York glared at him before slowly taking a seat next to Canada, "Alright, what do you want to know."

England took a step forward, "How long have you been alive?"

New York shrugged, "a very long time. Before the revolution."

Canada pointed to his eye, "Did you always have that?"

He shook his head, "I already said that I got it when I joined the union."

Japan pointed to his wrist, "and I'm guessing that is not a tattoo."

"It's a stripe."

"As in the stripes on the flag?" Italy asked. New York nodded, "Aren't there supposed to be more?"

New York stared down at the stripe, "I was the eleventh state to ratify, so I got the eleventh stripe on the flag."

"So there's more of you," France concluded.

"A personification for each state."

England was baffled, "S-So there's fifty of you, and America never bothered to say anything!? Not even when he was a colony, he sure never mentioned it!"

"Yes, and it was supposed to be kept that way, the others are going to murder me," New York muttered.

There was a pause, "Hey, New York. Do you think that one of the states would... harm America?" Italy murmured the question.

There was a pause, and New York studied the floor, "y-yes. I'm sure that one of them did it now." Canada watched New York stare at the ground in shame. It must have been hard for him to admit that somebody of his kind would betray their leader like that.

Canada himself felt sick to his stomach. The fact that his brother, his own brother would hide such a secret from him really took a toll on his trust he implanted in America. Sure his brother was as destructive as ever, loud, and annoying, but he never knew America would keep such a lie from Canada. They have been neighbors and brothers for centuries. Canada didn't even know what to think after finding out such a thing was hidden from him.

"Do you know which one of them would do such a thing?" Canada asked quietly.

New York shook his head, "No. Any of us would do it if enough anger built up, including me. We're good people, I swear. Sometimes we just-" He cut himself off with a sigh, "Sometimes things just get complicated."

"Well, what do you get angry at?" New York didn't answer, obviously not wanting to go too deep into the topic.

"What kind of anger drives a group of states to attack their leader?" England asked.

New York jumped at the opportunity to change the subject and looked up at him, "A group?"

England nodded, "Yes. America was fighting more than one state."

A disappointed smile shattered the gloomy state he was in, "Well... forming an alliance surely wasn't a good idea."

"Why not?" France asked. "Allies always make you stronger than you already are."

New York shook his head, "No, you got it all wrong. That may be the way a nation sees it, but we're states. In this situation, an alliance destroys them. We're not just America's territory, we're his family. We have a strong sense of loyalty when it comes to being part of this country. If one of us wanted to harm America, then it would take a lot for them to get others to agree, and then actually help them out. There must be a weak link in the alliance, someone who was convinced to help, but feels guilty afterwards. How big was the group?"

"More than a couple," England stated. "Possibly more than ten."

New York's smile grew, "We should be able to break one of them down. A larger group is in our benefit." New York now held his phone in front of him and started to type on it.

"What are you doing?" Canada asked.

"I'm going to contact a couple of the states, we can't really capture the state who did it without talking to any other states but me."

"Do you have a plan?" Germany asked.

New York's posture changed. His shoulders were straight, he held his head high, and his gray eye had a calculating gleam. "Yeah, forming an alliance bought us a lot of time, and I'm not wasting a second of it. We're going to gather the states, bring them to America's house, find the weak link, and get America back."

"Do you think that we'll be able to do that?" Italy asked with a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

New York gave him a confident smirk, "are you kidding? Of course we can. Just give me a half hour or so, I'll contact a few people, and we'll be ready to go." He started walking out of the living room and entered a different section of the apartment.

"What, that's it?" England called after him, "give us one good reason why we should trust you!"

Footsteps could be heard as the New Yorker popped his head back into the room and glared at the English nation, "because fate has declared me as an important player this time around. Besides, I don't have a star as an eye for no reason, I'm telling the truth, and you know it. You should also trust me because neither of us can afford the other side winning."

"Winning what?" England asked. "What do these people want to win?"

"The game." New York stated. England paled a bit after he spoke those to words, "welcome to it by the way. You're all players now." With that he turned back and continued to wherever his destination was before.

"What game?" Canada asked. "What does any of this have to do with a game, and why are we considered players?"

England's head shook in confusion, "I don't know, but we're part of it now. There really is no going back until somebody wins." Canada wondered what he meant by that. He wondered what this "game" was anyway, and why it had to be won. What was even the winner's prize? He had thousands of questions at the moment, but only one really mattered to the Canadian.

Was his brother all right?

XXX

Author's Note: Hey everybody! Yes I know that it has been a long time, but I didn't want to post this before vacation until I was satisfied with it. The Cayman Islands were amazing! By the way for those of you who found this story before this chapter might be a little confused. Britain's name has been changed to England for this story. I also now have a beta reader who was just awesome and kind enough to edit the previous chapters! So I highly suggest that you reread the previous chapters. I decided to start the introduction of the states with New York, since almost every country visited NYC for America's birthday. So what do you think? Can NY be trusted, or is he part of the organization himself?