Just a heads up, America's kind of, um, culturally insensitive and a bit of a jerk.
I don't own Hetalia! End/AN/
Holding Facility B – 3:40 PM
It had been hours since the deadly strike, and the room had quieted down considerably, like a funeral parlor during the visiting hours of a victim of a sudden death.
The tally of dead was three: Denmark, Monaco, and Ireland.
France held Monaco gently, not having left her body since her death; she hadn't even been in the charge, but she was hit just so by Ireland's flying body, and both were struck dead.
Sealand didn't know what to think. He could see the British Isles clustered around, and despite the stiff upper lip that England so often displayed, it seemed he was having a hard time holding it together.
He didn't want to join them. Sealand had woken up with a bump on his head and the dream-sense that everything was all right, only to have the situation regurgitated into his memory. He didn't want to be near Denmark, even though he felt like he must be the most horrible child in the world; Sweden kept a vigil, but he was alone.
It was easier to focus on Norway, whose head Finland said was probably cracked, though he was quite alive.
He'd thrown up a lot, and lay still, unallowed to move by Finland.
Iceland held his hand, sitting anxiously by his side. Ladonia, Sealand, and Kugelmugel sat a distance further away, on orders of Finland; no one was to disturb Norway.
"If only I could clean it up," Finland mumbled to himself, not for the first time, looking at the pile of vomit near Norway. It didn't make Sealand feel sick, because he had a stomach of iron, but Ladonia and Kugelmugel were averting their gazes.
Sealand grabbed both of his friends' hands, though he didn't say anything. Neither fought him.
It was strange, to be in such a life or death situation. Sealand wasn't sure how to approach it, because he couldn't simply charge in and fix it, no matter how he felt about it, and never before had he heard of nations dying like this.
Nations were supposed to be nigh invulnerable. They were supposed to withstand some of the worst that could be done to humanity, not hit the floor and die. Not hit a wall and crack their skull and then puke and lie helplessly on the ground.
Sealand wondered, not for the first time, what was going on with everyone in the world. Were Molossia, Wy, and Hutt River safe? Was America going to save them all? Or would it be China? Would they get rescued at all?
Sealand swallowed, ignoring that last thought and looking about the room.
Hungary was sitting with Austria, Prussia and Germany, a huge goose egg on her forehead; Prussia's lip appeared to be bleeding, and Germany's wrist was swollen horribly, turning purply and scary.
Everyone seemed closer to the people they cared about, even if normally they fought. Moldova was being held tightly by Romania; all three of the Baltics were clustered with Ukraine and Belarus, Latvia sporting a swollen shut eye, and Belarus bearing a large swollen area in the back of her head from where she'd hit him.
A couple nations were in as bad a state as Norway.
Spain was still out cold, which couldn't be good. Romano hovered over him nervously, swiping at his eyes and snapping at anyone who talked to him.
Luxembourg lay on his back, completely still though his eyes were wide open and looking around. Belgium and Netherlands stayed around him, but it was clear there was nothing they could do. Belgium would start to cry every so often, and Netherlands would pat her back with his big hand, and Luxembourg would look distressed.
Sealand didn't know how they were going to get out of this one.
Holding Facility D – 3:55 PM
Nations were sleeping left and right.
Hong Kong would have joined them had he not become used to insomnia by electronics; as it was, staying up this many hours was not hard for him.
Taiwan was sleeping with her head in his lap, while the others had to do without 'pillows' of any kind. Macau lay stretched to full height, Japan dozed sitting up, China had unintentionally fallen asleep leaning on North Korea, who seemed to drift between being awake and being asleep, as though he desperately needed the sleep but didn't want to.
In fact, most of the nations were asleep around him. South Korea snored somewhat loudly, even.
It appeared to be just him, Mongolia, and Israel awake, though Israel looked like he badly wanted to be one of the sleeping.
Hong Kong sighed, looking over at Israel. "I'll watch if you want to sleep. I'm not tired."
"I'm not tired either," Israel insisted, doubling his efforts to remain sitting upright.
Mongolia watched them both with his hawkish eyes.
"Like, it's okay. Everyone's sleeping anyway," Hong Kong said, shifting a bit. His foot was starting to go numb under Taiwan's head.
Israel took in a sharp breath through his nose, saying, "I am not sleeping with them only meters away from me! You wouldn't understand, you've never been in my position."
Hong Kong tilted his head to the side, saying, "I've had a monster at my borders before."
"Only one," Israel said, a rather grumpy look on his face. He took a big breath that looked like it was a barely suppressed yawn. He looked like he hadn't even been sleeping before they had taken him.
Hong Kong decided to let it go. He wasn't going to convince Israel of anything; the nation was extremely stubborn, and as little as he knew him, he knew that much. He let out a sigh, a bit bored out of his mind.
"So, you're like, 70 years old?"
"Yes," Israel said, almost hesitantly, a slight crinkle of confusion in his eyebrows. "Let me guess, you're more than twice that."
"Well, yeah." Hong Kong leaned back against the wall, glad it could support him. It was nice having something to his back; he imagined Israel must feel the same way.
"Age isn't everything," Israel muttered, apparently taking it as an insult.
"No, it's not," Hong Kong said, wishing he could play a game on his phone. It was desperately boring in the room. It was like all thought of being afraid had slipped out of his mind after the doldrums kicked in.
The slightest smile appeared on Mongolia's face, as he watched them. He must have found them funny; he was considerably older than either of them.
"What I wouldn't give for a gun," Israel muttered, glaring at thin air.
"I've always preferred a bow and arrows," Mongolia said, stretching his back; the pops and cracks were barely audible.
Hong Kong didn't have a favorite weapon, so he stayed out of the conversation.
"A gun's much better; accuracy, speed, firepower," Israel said, looking a little bit irritable. At the same time, however, his eyes seemed to light up a little. It was as though he was glad to be talking to Mongolia.
"True," Mongolia said, "but sometimes gun shot wounds don't even slow down an enemy. A hit with an arrow will stop anyone in their tracks."
Israel seemed to consider this, as his shoulders relaxed fractionally. "You can't tell me an arrow can top an automatic assault rifle; even if the first hit doesn't do it, the next ones will."
Mongolia shrugged, saying, "But using a bow and arrows is more impressive; it takes years of practice and training. Almost anyone can pick up a gun and fire it."
"Yeah, well, old weapons will get you dead," Israel said, though there seemed to be a hint of agreement in his voice. It was as though he wished times were such that the impressive could be more important than the practical.
"Sleep," Mongolia said, looking rather like a parent or something. "You need it. I will keep watch."
Israel looked like he was going to start complaining again, insisting he was fine, but his shoulders slumped a little. "They're sleeping too, aren't they?"
"Yes," Mongolia said, making a gesture towards him. "Two sets of eyes are enough," he added, nodding towards Hong Kong.
Israel seemed to consider this for a long moment, before his eyes started to droop, and then his head dipped against his chest; despite still sitting up, he fell asleep within minutes.
Hong Kong found that impressive, somehow, but he did wonder what made Mongolia want to look out for Israel. They did have some sort of trade relations going on, he thought, but he didn't know much about their relationship.
Mongolia didn't really have a lot of enemies to begin with; the only person that came to mind that he was on bad terms with would be Taiwan, and all he did was ignore her.
Hong Kong looked at Mongolia's imperturbable face, somehow sharper without his glasses. Was Mongolia another Russia, intent on using Israel and them all for his own gain? Or was something else going on?
It was hard to tell.
Holding Facility A – 4:08 PM
Nothing, nothing, nothing. Nothing of note had happened since the food, and America was bored.
Canada slept, leaning against the wall. Molossia also slept, curled up against America's side. He was a good kid, America thought, and he absently petted his hair.
"America." Mexico stood across from him, dark eyes seeming sort of... hm, troubled? America wasn't sure.
"Hey Mexico. What's up?"
It would have been really funny if Mexico had started dancing and singing some weird Spanish song, but he didn't do that. Instead, he crossed his arms, saying, "The other countries and I have been talking, and we can't stay here like this. We thought you'd want to help us break out."
America considered this; whatever plan they'd come up with, it couldn't be that great. Mexico knew so little about sci-fi last time America checked, he'd have no comprehension of what to do against the aliens. It was definitely a good thing they had asked him.
"All right. How about I punch in the door, and then we can all charge out?" He could probably punch in the door, if he remembered where it was. He was thinking on how it would break apart and tear like foil, and he was so much in his thoughts he didn't hear Mexico until he repeated himself.
"America! We're not using that plan, I told you, we already have one." Mexico looked irritable, and America guessed the food probably wasn't sitting with him well. Didn't Mexicans usually eat like corn or something?
"Oh. Okay. Let's hear it."
Mexico sighed, then started relating the plan. "We think there are cameras watching us; Guatemala saw something move in the wall when someone slapped someone else-"
"Oh, who slapped each other?"
"Please don't interrupt," Mexico said, again irritably. His voice was low and quiet. "We think it responds to actions, but not words. So, if we start a riot, the aliens will open the door, and we can turn on them and get out."
"But why can't I punch the door through?" America was mystified. His plan seemed much more sound than their plan.
"Because Montserrat hit his head against the wall and got an electric shock, and he's still pale and shaky. It's not safe to hit the wall," Mexico said, though if America was reading his face correctly, it didn't seem like he really had qualms against America being hurt; rather, he probably cared because America would be a good fighter against the aliens.
"...who's Montserrat?" America couldn't for the life of him think of anyone named Montserrat.
Mexico let out an exasperated sigh. "He's a British Overseas Territory. Kind of short, black wavy hair? He's in the Caribbean."
"Nope, not ringing any bells," America said, moving on. "Okay, sounds like a plan. I'll lead the charge."
"You may lead the charge if you want," Mexico said with another sigh. "Tell Canada and that other one about the plan."
"Yeah, okay." America grinned, watching as Mexico retreated back to the group of other nations. This was going to be awesome!
/AN/ I hope you like it. Also, did you know Montserrat is the only place in the world besides Ireland to have St. Patrick's day as a national holiday? Combination of big Irish population and a rebellion on St. Patrick's day. Cool, huh?