Only two ways this thing can work out: The Justice League or Team Rocket.

Warning: Angst, weapons, threats, swearing, scary Russia, threats, blah, blah, blah.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I have fun manipulating their characters, though

All For One, and One For… Pasta?

"Damn!"

Everyone's heads turned to look at the cockpit door which hung ajar. The shout had been Arthur's, and the man came rushing out into the cabin a moment later, his eyes narrowed with annoyance.

"We're running out of fuel." he said grudgingly, as if it was the plane's fault its fuel tank wasn't unusually large. "We'll have to land soon." I still don't like the idea of landing here. Too many people… if only there was a small, isolated airport nearby!

A few seconds passed before Ludwig asked, "Where?"

Arthur sighed deeply before dropping down in a seat nearby. He ran a hand through his mussed hair and replied, "Milwaukee," He uttered the name like a death sentence.

Ivan raised a confused eyebrow. "What is so bad about this place?"

Arthur stood sharply and turned, struggling to keep a 'you idiot!' out of his response. "It's the capital of Wisconsin! Do you know how many people will be there?"

"Ve~!" Feliciano said. "Maybe they will see my white flag and not hurt us!"

"I doubt that, idiot." Lovino mumbled.

"I say we land elsewhere." Yao suggested. "Perhaps somewhere near it?"

"No," Arthur said, exasperated. "The fuel tank wasn't completely full when we took off. I don't know why, but it wasn't. We need to land in the closest city that has sufficient amounts of fuel. And that is Milwaukee."

"Have you spotted people so far?" Kiku asked, fingering the hilt of his katana.

Arthur sighed. "Not really, no. Which leads us to believe that whatever people there are left in this area may have migrated into the city to seek food and supplies."

"How are we going to land without anyone noticing, then?" Sadiq asked, tossing his finished bag of peanuts onto the floor and picking his teeth.

Arthur huffed. "That's the point. There's no way they won't notice us. And they will surely mob the plane if it's the only transportation out."

"Then don't land there!" Lovino hissed, his voice strong but his hands trembling. "Just land outside the city and a group of us will drive the fuel trucks there."

"I'm assuming you won't be part of that group, ami?" Francis asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up, Wine Bastard."

"We can land there," Gilbert began, a little apprehensive with Ivan still glaring at him. "and half of us can guard the plane while the other half refuel it."

Ivan sat up. "That sounds like it might work." he said grudgingly, not believing he was agreeing with anything the Prussian suggested.

Ludwig thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Right, then we'll need volunteers to help guard the plane." He raised his hand. "I will stay."

Immediately, Ivan's and Gilbert's hands shot up in the air, and they eyed each other with malice. Arthur quickly shook his head, saying, "Er… I don't think it would be the wisest idea if you two were allowed to work together."

"Da," Ivan growled, his eyes flashing. "I might accidentally shoot him."

"I'd like to see you try to shoot my awesome self, pretentious bastard." Gilbert snarled back, shrinking back in his seat slightly when Ivan began to mutter an unbroken string of kolkolkol's.

Arthur looked back and forth between them warily and then said, "Very well. Ivan, you will help guard the plane with Germany. Prussia, you can help me refuel the plane."

"What? No way!" Gilbert shouted in protest. "I'm too awesome for such small work!"

"Small work, you say?" Arthur hissed, glaring him down. "I'll have you know that without this 'small work', we wouldn't be able to leave Milwaukee!"

Gilbert was about to say something else, but surprisingly kept his mouth shut, choosing instead to glare at Ivan, who was now sporting a rather smug smile.

"Now," Arthur continued, clearing his throat. "For those who will be refueling the plane… I'll nominate some of them myself, assuming they'd prefer it to guarding the plane anyway: Veneziano and Romano."

Feliciano gave an excited squeal and began waving his white flag, while Lovino relaxed in his seat.

"I will volunteer to refuel the plane also." Francis spoke up, leering at Arthur. "I would much rather not part from you, chéri."

Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Right, so the Frog saves his neck once again. As for the rest of you?"

Yao raised his hand. "I will help guard the plane."

"As will I." Kiku said.

After a few silent moments, Sadiq raised his hand. "I volunteer to guard the plane. No way am I missing this opportunity to prove that I'm the best fighter!" He glared pointedly at Yao.

Arthur rolled his eyes again. "All right, then… wait a minute, I could have sworn there were twelve of us here…"

Everyone looked around, and Matthew sighed. He had been forgotten… again.

He stood and raised his hand, trying his best to project his normally small voice. "I will refuel the plane with you, England. I expect Al will want to help guard it."

At first, everyone looked around, as if they were hearing strange voices and were trying to locate the source. Finally, their eyes rested on Matthew, and nearly all of them jumped with surprise… except Ludwig and Ivan, both of whom seemed to have already built up their courage concerning their future mission.

Arthur nodded, trying to find his words. "Ah, yes… yes, Alfred would want to guard the plane, but—"

"Damn straight, I do!" Alfred's voice called from the cockpit. The plane listed slightly to one side as he did. "England can fill up the plane, cancha, Igs? They'll, like, totally need a leader out there—though you all know I'm the best 'cause I'm the hero and all, but I kinda wanna kick ass here!"

Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd been putting up with Alfred and his annoyingly loud self ever since they took off a few hours ago. "Okay, America, just… just try not to hurt yourself or anyone else, all right?"

"Will do, bro!"

"Wait a second." Gilbert protested. "Why does America get to guard the plane when he and Russia nearly killed each other and the rest of the world with their fighting? I'd say we're safer letting me guard the plane along with Russia."

Arthur shook his head and Gilbert frowned. "No, unlike you, Russia and America haven't actually managed to subdue each other. I think it'll take more force than they can afford to attack each other rather than the rebels coming at them."

Gilbert stared at him in disbelief. Then he leaned back, looking away and folding his arms. "… unawesome bastards…"

"Right, then." Arthur clapped his hands in conclusion. "We should be landing in about ten minutes. I suggest you ready yourselves in the meantime." And with that, he turned on his heel and walked back through the cockpit door, Francis catcalling after him.

"Holy shit," Alfred muttered as he lowered the plane from the clouds. "Look at how many there are."

Arthur leaned forward to get a better view of the city below. "Oh dear God,"

The streets below were swarming with people. The buildings above them were smoking. Large mobs dotted the cityscape, breaking here and there, supposedly from gunfire.

"How the bloody hell are we going to land?"

"Where are we going to land is the question."

Arthur's heart sped up. He hadn't thought of that.

Alfred squinted down at the ground. "There,"

"Where?"

"Right there," Alfred pointed to a place beside the airport. It looked like a hill.

Arthur studied it. "There seems to be a small crowd there…" He sighed and sat back in his chair. "But we'll just have to brave it."

"Of course we will, bro." Alfred reassured, though Arthur was still skeptical. "We got ammo, and it's not like none have us have never shot a gun before."

"Yes, but… there are so many." Arthur was nervously wringing his hands now. Alfred, of course, never thought past having enough weapons. "And we'll have to fetch the fuel truck from the airport a mile or so away. It will be a miracle if we all come out unscathed."

Before Alfred could say anything more, Arthur rose from his seat and stepped through the cockpit door into the cabin. At once, many pairs of eyes met him, some scared, some anxious, and some determined.

Arthur's throat felt unnaturally dry as he spoke, "Well… we're going to land. Before you all belt in, I'd like to bring up a couple of … quandaries." He swallowed then continued. "We will be landing a mile or so away from the airport, so I'll need some people, and we'll have to change up who's assigned to what—guards and fuelers included—to come with me in order to drive the fuel truck from there to here. There shall be no volunteering this time. I will be choosing those who will come with me, preferably the most reliable." He peered around for a moment and nodded. "Right, for the fuelers, I choose Prussia, France,"—he sighed at this as Francis smirked at him—"and Romano." The Italian's eyes widened and he blanched. Well, Arthur thought. At least he can run fast.

Arthur searched the cabin. "And… Canada?"

Matthew started, not expecting his name to be called… or even remembered. He raised his hand. Arthur nodded. "Ah, right, you can stay here with Veneziano. I trust you are still a good shot?"

"Of course," Matthew said.

"Good, then help Veneziano stay calm and please be sure he doesn't hurt himself."

"Okay,"

Arthur peered around at all of them again. "Now the guards. Hmm… I'll only need a couple, so I'll take Turkey and Germany."

Sadiq seemed perfectly fine with this, actually, he seemed excited to prove himself. Ludwig, however, shook his head. "I'm sorry, England, but I must stay with the plane. Veneziano gets very frightened if I'm not around."

"… stupid Potato Bastard." Lovino muttered, then turned to Arthur. "Don't let him stay behind! His damn closet perverseness might come out if I'm not there with him." He flashed a glare at the German.

Gilbert waved him away. "My bruder won't do anything you wouldn't like, Romano. Though I wouldn't say you'd like anything he does anyway. Besides," He smiled haughtily. "I'm so awesome, you'll forget completely about your brother, kesesese!" He put Lovino in a head lock and proceeded to muss his hair, all the while, the Italian cursing and thrashing.

Arthur shook his head. "I'm sorry, Romano, but I can't afford to do that. If I leave you here with your brother, you'll only succeed in getting each other all the more frightened."

Matthew did something very bold at that moment, pulling out his rifle and cocking it. Everyone flinched, and the Canadian smiled. So, they hear me when I have a weapon, eh? "Don't worry, Romano. I've been hunting for most of my existence, so I can shoot well. If so much as one of those rebels manages to get past the rest of the guards, you can be sure I'll shoot him between the eyes before he can even look at your brother."

They all stared at him before Lovino managed to break free of Gilbert's hold and say, "You'd better be telling the truth, Syrup Bastard."

Matthew smiled wryly. "Of course," And, with another audible click, put the rifle on safety again and set it down beside his seat.

Arthur went on, "Right, so I'll take China instead." Yao nodded his approval, Sadiq flashing him a challenging look, and Arthur continued. "So that's Prussia, France, Romano, and myself on fuel, and Turkey and China for guards. The rest can stay with the plane." Arthur felt the plane shift into a downwards position. Then a voice came on the speakers:

"Gentlemen, we are going to be landing in a moment, so please buckle up and remain in your seats. Make sure all loose belongings are secured or put away and if Artie can just get his ass in here and help me land this son of a bitch, we might still be alive tomorrow!"

"Shut your foul mouth, brat!" Arthur snapped back. "You're making everyone nervous."

The speaker came on again: "I would just like to point out that my language is way milder than the supposed 'British gentleman's'…"

"All right!" Arthur shouted, slipping through the cockpit door and slamming it behind him. There was more shouting during which a few words slipped out such as "Arrogant prat!" and "Annoying git!" and "Should have bashed you on the head when your were younger so that your brain would be righted!"

"Settle down, bro!" Alfred said. "Now you're making me nervous."

Eventually, the plane was guided to the hill and was landed without a hitch. Well, except that the anxiety on board increased exceptionally. Arthur stood from his seat, turning before he left the cockpit.

"Alfred, please don't let past animosities distract you from your mission."

"Wha?" Alfred looked at him quizzically. "Of course not, man! When have you known me to divert from any plan?"

Arthur shook his head. "Ah, just… never mind. I doubt you'll have a chance to anyway."

"Chance to do what, bro?"

"Nothing, I-I," Arthur ran a hand through his hair. "Just don't disappoint me, okay? I don't want to come back here to find the whole lot of you massacred because you decided to spark something up with Russia." Before Alfred could respond, Arthur added, "And, just know if we don't happen to make it back—"

"—we're screwed?"

"No, you git…" Arthur sighed. Alfred was making this harder than it had to be. "I want you to know that… I've never hated you." Well… close enough.

Alfred blinked at him as understanding settled over him, but before he could reply, Arthur was shutting the door to the cockpit behind him.

Arthur stepped into the cabin and was surprised—and quite terrified—to find that Ivan was standing in front of him. He gave a small yelp and scrambled back a bit before righting himself and asking, his voice unusually high, "R-ready, are we?"

"Da," Ivan answered, though his hands were empty of weapons, Arthur knew his trench coat was full of them. "We are more than ready. The rebels are approaching," The Russian indicated the mob through the windows as it made its way up the steep hill. "I suggest you go down the back of the hill with the rest of your group so that you will not be spotted. The rest of us will hold them off." Then, slapping him rather roughly on the shoulder with a cold hand, Ivan said firmly, "Good luck, comrade. And just remember: if you don't succeed in obtaining the fuel truck, then all our deaths will be the result of your failed plan." He smiled down at him

Arthur nodded, his hand going to massage the spot on his shoulder that he was sure had a large bruise blossoming in the shape of the Russian's large hand. "Yeah, right, I'll remember."

He moved past Ivan with a shiver, his heart now pounding painfully against his ribcage, and pulled the switch that open the hatch and released the inflatable slide which would serve as their way down from the plane. He then turned, motioning toward them. "Right, then. My group, follow me out first. We'll be going around the backside of the plane and down the back of the hill to avoid detection. The rest of you slide down after us and hold the mob off the best you can until we can get the fuel truck up here."

"Tous pour un, un pour tous." Francis said with a smile, putting his hand out, palm down.

It took a moment for Arthur to translate on account of his anxiety, but he eventually said, "All for one, one for all, right." He was apprehensive to touch Francis's hand at first, but he eventually put his hand on top of Francis's. He rolled his eyes as Francis leered, though he had to admit, he was feeling much more confident now.

"I'm awesomely in, kesese!" Gilbert said, slapping his hand down.

"We must work as one now," Yao said, adding his own.

"A samurai never gives up on his teammates." Kiku said.

"Ja, all hostilities are over between us." Ludwig said.

"For now, at least." Sadiq said.

"Ve~me too! I want in too!" Feliciano said.

Lovino looked at them all, thoroughly unimpressed. Then, "This is such a waste of time, but fine, dammit!" He put in his hand as well, albeit grudglingly.

"Don't forget me," Matthew put his hand in, making everyone flinch as they just noticed him.

Alfred exited the cockpit, saw what was going on and said, "Whoo! All right, team huddle!" And slapped his hand down, causing the stack of others to almost crumble from the unchecked strength.

Ivan put his hand over Alfred's, and the two had a slight scuffle to see whose hand would come out on top until Ivan eventually won by crushing Alfred's fingers. "Da, we are all in this together, now." He glared at Alfred, who gave him an equally malicious look.

Francis smiled. "All for one, and one for—"

"Pastaaaa~!"

Everyone looked at Feliciano quizzically before Francis nodded and said, "One for pasta."

They all took back their hands and turned to the slide.

His heart in his throat, Arthur slid down first, quickly followed by a confident Gilbert, a nervous Francis, and a hesitant Lovino. Sadiq and Yao arranged their weapons before sliding down after them.

And so it begins. Arthur thought as he stared out at the people approaching.

The countdown.

No translations

A Word From the Writer: It's the final countdooown, dunuh, nuh, nuh, dunuh, nuh, nuh, nuh...

Spoiled the mood, didn't I? Well, shit. XD

Annoying cliffhanger is annoying. *cue announcer voice* But tune in next time to see the most dramatic chapter yet. X3