Just to clarify:

Holding Facility A = North America

Holding Facility B = Europe

Holding Facility C = Africa

Holding Facility D = Asia

Holding Facility E = Oceania

Holding Facility F = South America

Also, I will switch POVs within the groups; I've only done so with the Europe group, so I understand the confusion. :) Sorry.

I don't own Hetalia! End/AN/

Holding Facility A – 11:46 AM

Molossia had joined America and Canada in their position against the wall; the poor micronation appeared, if Canada was correct, to be absolutely in shock.

Of course, Canada could be wrong; he'd barely met Molossia, and he was lucky to remember his name. But if his twitching and quivering lips and the way he kept trying to hide his eyes under his bangs were any indication, Canada was probably right.

America seemed oblivious, sprawled against the wall like he owned the place and holding his stomach. "I'm freaking hungry," he complained, adding, "Oh my god, do you think they're trying to see who eats each other first? Last one standing wins or whatever?"

"America, that's not appropriate," Canada chastened, looking around to make sure America wasn't heard. The nation was rather well known for his disconnection with reality, but to suggest things like that was just idiotic. America was fortunate Canada actually cared about the big dummy.

"Well, maybe it is, you don't know," America insisted, kicking up a bare foot listlessly. "We'd have to eat Cuba first, he's the fattest."

"America!" Canada's snap was far from frightening, he knew, but it seemed to get America's attention.

"What?" America groaned, as if Canada was his mother and he was being corrected for something stupid.

Canada wanted to hit him. They were in a pretty serious situation, and he wasn't treating it seriously at all. In fact, it probably would feel very good right now to smack him. But Canada wasn't a generally violent person, and he held back his urges. "America, please, just try to be mature, all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," America said, and then he abruptly turned to Molossia, grinning and saying, "Bet you didn't expect all this to happen when you went to bed last night."

Molossia started to cry, face turning red (or rather, purple in the blueish light) as his head dropped towards his chest. "I want to go home..."

America hesitated, but then, reacting exactly the wrong way, ruffled Molossia's hair and said, "Come on, buck up! You'll be okay."

Canada rolled his eyes, and came over closer. "It's going to be okay; you'll get to go home."

Molossia just buried his face in his knees, wrapping his arms tightly around them.

America shrugged at Canada. "He doesn't like not being at home," he said, still ruffling his hair. "I mean, seriously, he like almost never leaves."

Canada wasn't sure what to do. He didn't often deal with crying teens, except America when he did stupid things like get a jalapeno seed in his eye. That had been a long night.

He put his hand on Molossia's shoulder, but to his surprise, Molossia jerked away, glaring at him.

"Don't touch me!"

Apparently that was an America-only privilege. Canada pursed his lips, withdrawing his hand. "I'm sorry."

Molossia muttered to himself, burying his face back against his knees, and Canada caught the end of it, '...ing bastard.'

For America, it would have been completely incomprehensible, but Canada just reminded himself that everyone was on edge, and let it go.

Suddenly, the door opened with a small swishing noise, and the alien came in, directing a couple of smaller aliens as they pushed what appeared to be a levitating trolley.

The smell was foreign, yet strangely like oatmeal or wet bread, sort of a mix. Canada's stomach rumbled, and he could see every eye in the room was on it.

"Eat, for tomorrow you will begin your glorious destiny," the alien said, and the three backed out of the room.

The nations fell upon the food, cupping amounts of the mush. It might have had a rather dull grain color to it, but Canada couldn't tell in the light.

It tasted like wheat-something. It tasted much worse than oatmeal or cream of wheat.

No one, however, raised a complaint.

Holding Facility D – 11:59 AM

The mush served to the nations tasted horrible, sort of reminding China of grass. He'd still had to keep a close eye to make sure that certain nations didn't interact, but he'd gotten his fill of it; there was a lot to go around.

He'd sat back, finding his small group clustered together still after the feeding. Macau, Hong Kong, Japan off to the side, Taiwan off to his side, South Korea on one end and North Korea on the other. Mongolia had taken up a spot none too far away either. And of course, Israel was sitting on the other side of Japan.

All the nations were in groups, generally speaking.

Southeast Asians sat off on their own, with Myanmar looking generally suspicious of everyone, and Vietnam looking around with that stone cold face of hers, like she would beat the snot out of anyone who attempted anything with her.

The Stans, as America so cleverly referred to them, were in several bunches, depending on who liked whom at the moment. Afghanistan looked uneasy, clearly uncomfortable without her hijab.

Iraq was puffing out his chest, looking severely about the room. He was on edge too, China could tell; they were not the Europeans, with most conflicts only shadows of old ones, at least a decade old and mostly forgiven. Many of the wounds received by those in this room were raw and fiercely protected.

India sat with several smaller nations, leading yoga or something; some sort of calming technique which he probably hoped would keep things peaceful.

And Russia sat alone, smiling pleasantly to himself.

Or he had been last China had looked. Now, he realized with a start, the nation was lumbering over towards them, pleasant smile still on his face.

Mongolia looked, noticed Russia, and before China could have any say about his sitting with them, had scooted over to make room for him. Russia took the spot, still smiling.

"Russia," China greeted, stifling a sigh. Japan was slightly frowning (which translated to big frowning in Japan's body language), both SARs were exchanging looks, South Korea looked at China as if he could get Russia to go away, and Israel was outright scowling.

North Korea greeted him with a nod of the head, however, and Mongolia looked as okay with it as ever. It figured that they would.

"China," Russia said with a smile. "How is everyone?"

There was really only one way to deal with it; China gave a somewhat tense smile back, saying, "As well as can be expected, Russia."

"That is very good," Russia said, and he seemed to lower his voice a bit. A slight urgency seemed to be in his tone, as he said, "If we are to escape, we must do something soon."

At least Russia was being pretty practical. China still remembered his earlier stages, where he'd been unreasonable; shifty eyes, too big smiles, lies, lies, lies. He was glad in some ways that Russia was no longer the Soviet Union, if only because the tension had been straining the whole world.

"We could like, make a diversion," Hong Kong suggested, and China could tell he was thinking of fireworks, explosions, other loud and flashy things. He always seemed to like things that made the heart pump at a much faster rate.

Russia nodded, eyes darting about the group. "I have an idea for a diversion."

"Slow down," China said, rubbing his temples. "Are you here to ask for our help in your plan, or are we planning together, aru?"

Russia shrugged, saying, "It is my plan, but I am open to suggestions."

"Sure you are," South Korea muttered a bit loudly; Macau elbowed him, but it didn't stop Russia from turning an icy look on him.

"Excuse me, I am not done talking. You will talk when it is your turn, da?"

South Korea seemed to wither a bit under the look, glaring down at his bare feet, but not saying anything.

"The plan is simple," Russia said, eyes mostly on China, "We make a diversion, and when the aliens come to stop it, we escape through their door."

"But what's the diversion?" Taiwan said, leaning closer to Japan to hear better.

Russia's eyes settled on Israel, who glared back in response, as if Russia were transgressing his personal space by looking at him.

China already felt uneasy before Russia said,

"This plan is only for us, da? The rest will stay behind." He paused a moment, before simply letting the words fall out of his mouth. "Israel is a good catalyst; there are many nations who want to fight him."

The look on Israel's face was deadly. "If you think for one moment I'm going along with this plan-"

"It's not your choice," Russia cut him off, shrugging as he added, "I am far bigger than you are."

"That's not ethical," Japan said, and if China was reading him correctly, he looked very uncomfortable. Taiwan chimed in, agreeing.

North Korea sided with Russia. "If it gets us out, then we're foolish not to use it. Israel is just a casualty-"

"How about I make you a casualty?" Israel snapped, hands balled into fists as he jumped to his feet.

"Calm down," China said, spreading his hands out and trying to somehow get everyone to behave peaceably. It felt like he was with the tiny nations he'd helped grow all those centuries ago, though the stakes seemed considerably higher. "We're not sacrificing anyone until we know what's going on."

Russia's smile seemed irritated. "It may be too late by then."

"It's a risk we'll have to take," China insisted, voice firm. He felt tired already, just from the hours they had been there. Israel and he might not be close friends, but he thought enough of him to not want to sacrifice him.

Russia clucked his tongue, saying, "You will think differently by the time they come to get us."

"They said glorious future, how bad can it be?" South Korea demanded, having regained his nerve. He was probably thinking of video games or fantasy series where the heroes were plucked to a new world by unknown powers.

"You're a fool," Russia retorted, "No one gives someone else a 'glorious future' for nothing; there is always a cost."

China sighed, but said nothing. Russia stood, and went back to his corner, eyeing the other nations as though he would come up with some plan involving them.

It was going to be a long day until their 'glorious future.'

Holding Facility B – 11:34 AM

Sealand had watched as the nations gathered together to charge the door; the group included most of the brave, strong, or firebrand nations, not the least of which being Poland, Germany, Prussia, Hungary, and Spain.

Iceland had wandered off, insisting he didn't need watching.

Kugelmugel had fallen asleep on his lap, body twisted awkwardly so that he was half on Sealand and half off. That was good, Sealand thought, because he'd been a bit squirmy before, like he wanted to be somewhere else. He didn't blame him for that, of course, but Sealand liked to see his friends happy, or at peace.

But just then, Sweden stood, gesturing to both Ladonia and Sealand to stand too, saying, "Stretch." So, Kugelmugel had to be awoken.

They were circling the back of the room, Sweden working out the kinks in his back, as the group of the nations willing to take on the aliens stayed clustered near where they had last seen an entrance.

"Sweden," Sealand said conversationally, as Kugelmugel trotted next to him, "Do you think they'll feed us soon?"

Sweden shrugged, but he did reach out and pat Sealand's head, as if to say, 'Not to worry, they won't starve us.'

"This place is horrible," Kugelmugel complained, twisting one of his braids in his hands. "It's not art. It's the opposite of art."

Sealand beamed at his friend, trying to brighten the mood. "But the walls are really shiny and rainbowy! That's kind of art, right?"

"It's not art at all," Ladonia put in, arguing with Sealand. "It's just kind of pretty."

"Art is pretty," Sealand replied, rolling his eyes. Of course Ladonia would dispute him. But at least he was taller than Ladonia, so he pretty much won every time.

"Art is expression," Kugelmugel said, as they now followed Sweden in a cluster like goslings following the mother goose. He seemed to have a rather downward tilt of the mouth.

Sealand would have argued, but the unthinkable happened: the door opened.

Sweden was already watching intently, arms spread out a bit as if to block the micronations from something.

A trolley began to be pushed in, but the nations gathered around the door surged into it, getting around it and causing high pitched sounds to come from the aliens that pierced Sealand's skull.

Everyone was watching, eyes trained on the fighting nations. Would they make it out?

"If you do not get back in the room, we will be forced to take drastic measures!" The alien from before could be heard, voice slicing through the noise of the nations.

"Let us go!" This was Poland's voice, and Sealand couldn't quite see beyond the door.

"You can't keep us here!" Scotland. Sealand would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Don't make us hurt you!" Spain's voice was scarier than Sealand remembered it ever being.

There was a sigh, though it sounded like it was coming out of two mouths. And that was when a blast shook the entire room, sending the micronations tumbling off their feet.

The nations attacking came flying through the air like rag dolls, arms and legs flailing everywhere, smacking up against walls and hitting other nations.

Sweden was immediately running towards the spiky-haired pile of Denmark, and the micronations followed, Sealand feeling his heart beat thrumming against his rib cage.

Denmark was so still. His body was twisted, and he wasn't even trying to move out of what had to be an uncomfortable position.

Sweden's fingers went against Denmark's throat, and he seemed to strain for something, some sign. Other nations were screaming, and there was a lot of movement going on; there also seemed to be cries of pain.

Sealand leaned over Denmark, feeling a lump in his throat, like he'd tried to swallow a plum. "Sweden? Is Denmark sleeping? Is he knocked out?"

But Sweden didn't answer, searching out other points to place his fingers, each time getting more and more frantic. He wasn't finding what he was looking for.

That was when a cold fear struck Sealand. Denmark had to be okay. He had to be about to wake up and laugh at them for freaking out about him.

Sweden pulled back, abruptly standing and scanning the now moving, frantic crowd.

The door was closed, no trolley inside.

Sweden pounded through the crowd, leaving them with Denmark.

Ladonia seized Denmark, shaking him and yelling at him to wake up. His eyes were wide, tearing up, and his hands shook horribly. But there was no response, as Denmark's head lolled unnaturally.

It hit Sealand like a train: Denmark was dead.

Sealand didn't remember much after that; only a darkness that struck suddenly.

/AN/ I hope y'all liked it, and it wasn't a major mood switch or something. I'm not always good at keeping a consistent mood.

Anyway, expect more soon!