"Why is it so empty….?"

France frowned. When the concept of a secretive enemy division hidden in one of his cities dawned upon him, he expected absolute danger and fast-paced action. The journey from Germany's to Bordeaux had the French nation uneasily shifting in his seat, compressed anticipation and nervousness fluttering vigorously inside of him.

The compression was released slowly in slight disappointment. The city was dead. All of his people, hopefully, were kept in safety in the mountains just northeast of the city. Normally, in the presence of a doppelganger, there would be a raging overcast of intense dislike that caused distress to anyone else.

Romania and Spain exchanged brief glances. Belgium slowly pursed her lips, eyes scanning the lonely streets. The Netherlands and Greenland shifted their eyes from their surroundings to France, whose gaze clouded gravely.

"Is it…do they know we're here?" Belgium dared to ask quietly, but even if her voice was soft, it seemed to echo loudly, breaking the unnerving silence.

Did they know? Were they watching them in the shadows? France had thought so originally, but the longer they stood there, tension rising-or dropping; it was difficult to tell-France started to reconsider the circumstances.

"If they knew, and they have a large division, why bother waiting?" France murmured. "It is an obvious defeat for us the moment they know we are here. Our purpose is to catch them off guard. We cannot be detected or it won't look good. If they know we're here, then why? Does it make sense?"

"The entire mess doesn't make sense," Romania sniffed. "Who has ever heard of emotions taking a physical form? And why now? All at once?"

The Netherlands harrumphed quietly. "Doesn't matter now," he said. "But at the time being, we are still here, and we are still 'safe'."

"For how much longer, do you think?" Spain asked.

The Netherlands ignored him.

"Brother," Belgium chided under her breath, "how much longer do you think we'll be safe?"

"Who knows," he replied nonchalantly.

Silence surrounded them once more. In the unnaturally still air, they didn't dare move. Not until France turned around and lowered his firearm. "They aren't here," he stated flatly.

Spain and Greenland stared at him, almost incredulously. Not that he could blame them. Belgium blinked rapidly, face slightly contorting into confusion and Romania adjusted his stance so that he was facing France with an expression just as puzzled as Belgium's. "Hold on a minute," he said. "What makes you say that?"

France let out a deep chuckle. "Well for one, I don't see anybody on the streets."

Romania made a face that seemed to say, 'Obviously, but that doesn't mean that it disproves the possibility of the enemy hiding'.

"I can't feel anybody," France added. "I can't sense it."

Spain scratched at his cheek, contemplating. "Usually we can feel our own people, but it's not as easy to sense outsiders. Especially people who aren't actually human. Or even a full nation."

"I can't feel myself."

France was sure that his doppelganger wouldn't just leave an entire division to themselves, especially since they were so close to Germany's house, where it was obvious that it sheltered the real nations of the world. Then again, he sincerely hoped that his doppelganger wasn't too similar to himself in the fact that he would often seek safety rather than danger at certain times. It wasn't a trait he was proud of-no one could claim that a particularly favorable trait- but it was plausible.

If that was the case, then without a leader, wouldn't there be disorder? Wouldn't it be chaotic rather than quiet?

France exhaled sharply, ignoring the impatient looks on his teammates. They were getting restless, he knew this, but he had to push them aside while he concentrated at the situation. Where was he? Ah, right. There were second-in-commands, weren't there? The Democratic Republic of the Congo. One of the Francophone countries.

In a way, it made sense. Not only was Congo one of the countries under his wing, but the country faced devastation that was sure to breed hatred. And an incredibly strong one, at that.

Bur France remembered Congo's presence and he failed to find a trace of anything that would relate to him in Bordeaux. Such a hatred would be prominent but there was nothing. Nothing but he and the five nations gathered around him.

"They aren't here," France repeated. This time, the meaning behind those words sent a blow to him. He shuddered and spun on his heel to meet the others' eyes. "They're not here. Sacré bleu, they aren't here."

And with that he hastily stormed back to the car, leaving the others to follow, questions bombarding him from behind. "Taisez-vous," he scowled at them. Belgium immediately stopped talking, the Netherlands didn't bother to ask, and the other three slowly allowed their questions to die while France frantically contacted Germany.

"They aren't here," he said at once when the other side picked up.

"Define 'not here'," came Germany's voice. His tone was steady and firm but there was a certain edge to it that made France grimace.

"They just aren't. It's empty around here. I can't feel their presence. They aren't here."

"As if Germany will let you off with the 'presence' thing," Belgium said. "He'll probably have us check the entire city…."

France was starting to feel irritated. He was certain the doppelgangers were not in Bordeaux. The only thing that could have happened was either they were given the wrong information of the enemy had moved. But how could they have moved so quickly? Even if they were rather close to Germany, they couldn't transport massively destructive weapons in less than twenty-four hours.

If China was here, then maybe it would be possible, but he wasn't, so that couldn't be the reason.

Unless….

"Germany," France said abruptly, "do they even have these weapons of mass destruction? Where's the proof?"

"America, China, and Japan have encountered said weapons," Germany said, and for a split second, France was struck with fear. It wasn't until Germany added, "However, England's group confirmed that Dark England never had any to start with."

Knowing their history, France had to wonder if Dark England and Dark France had fought endlessly between themselves. It most likely happened, but was there the possibility of them collaborating? Their relations in the present was much better than their relations a couple hundred years ago. Just the thought about working with England would have been undeniably disgusting.

But hatreds could be cooperative, which was one of the biggest surprises France had. In regards of all of the surprising things they've done, it wouldn't surprise him if his doppelganger and England's doppelganger worked together.

When he voiced his thoughts aloud, the Netherlands shot him down. "It's a long stretch," he said simply.

"Yeah. I think that moving somewhere else is more believable," Spain sighed. "But I don't know, mi amigo. I don't see how they can move a lot of missiles in such a short time period."

"Have you ever considered them being underground?" Germany asked France, who repeated the question to the rest of the group.

"How would they get all of that underground?" Greenland asked, his frown deepening. "And it's not a practical location at all."

"Well if it's nowhere around here," Romania groaned, "then where can they be? It's not practical to check all over the country. But if France's senses are that sensitive, maybe we can just fly him over the land and use him like a tracker?"

Belgium raised a hand in front of her mouth to restrain a small laugh. "This is France we're talking about," she said teasingly. "I'm pretty sure he's the sensitive type."

"If that's the case, then let's do it," Spain laughed.

And for a moment, France wanted to follow through with that ridiculous plan. He did not want to see his country in danger. He did not want to see it in ruins. There were times where it felt as if he was just struggling to survive as a nation. There were times where existing was painful and there was always something in the back of his head that would not let him rest. There used to be an uncontrollable agony and misery in the midst of chaos and near anarchy. It was unbearable.

But somehow, he made it. And he was glad that he did. With less than a day, he had to take action. His people, had done it for him before while he sat, almost withered away. That day, it would be his turn to repay those from long ago who were buried six feet under the ground and into France.

In the brief illusion of nationalistic pride and duty, France would have agreed with whatever could help their predicament.

The sense of pride dissipated. His blood ran cold. The fleeting moments of determination escaped.

"Germany," France said hoarsely, patting his forehead where beads of sweat started to gather. "Germany…."

France could barely hear Germany's voice. He wasn't sure what the nation was saying, but he picked up that his tone was urgent. The faces around him blurred. Spain and Belgium's eyes were wide with concern. Greenland tilted his head in puzzlement. The Netherlands and Romania seemed to be examining France's paralyzing expression before peering around them.

It was futile. France knew it. But he could feel it. Deep in his heart, he could feel it. And he knew that in spite of the fact that this was his home, the other nations would soon sense them.

"They're back."

Sooo. Has it been six-ish months already? Wow. Time flies.

I am sorry for the short, action-less chapter. It is currently 1:30 AM, I have concurrent summer classes-dual enrollment as some schools might call it, I dunno-tomorrow and I am...not really tired. I just had a change of plans on what's going to happen here in Bordeaux because with most of the others' stories, it's basically the same thing.

So I decided to change it up a little. How am I gonna do that? That is why this chapter is short. I'm not too certain yet. ;u;

Uhmmm...what else do I want to address...?

I miss you guys. I really do. :D

Also, couple notes. I used to conduct a fair amount of research on places-and I often times fail at trying to realistically put them in the story but oh well, you guys can use your imagination, right?-but this time, not much. But I do know that DRC (I'm gonna call him Congo, because it's so much easier) has a very bloody history. I'll confess that it was pure luck that he happened to be a Francophone country. I think. Did I plan that? I don't think I did...

But anyhoo, there's that. And uh. I'm brain-dead right now. I thought I'd have a lot to say but I really don't.

For those of you who are afraid that the story will end soon, don't worry. At this rate, it'll be another year. Maybe two because it'll be senior year. Holy crap...guys. I started this story as a freshman. I'm about to enter senior year. Guyyyyyysssssssss holy crap, how have you guys dealt with this story for so long? If I was a new reader, I'd be freaking out about the length!

Where was I? Oh. So yeah, at this rate, it won't end for quite some time. I'm well into the second half of the story but update rates...no. It'll be a while.

I'll try to respond to your reviews if you guys leave any. Take this time to ask me all sorts of questions about the story or anything you want. I like conversing with you and who knows if you might strike inspiration in me. Because I kinda need some.

Okay. I'm literally brain-dead. On that note, thank you again for reading, thank you for waiting, and I'll see you guys next time. Also, expect author's notes at the end of each chapter from now on. They'll probably talk about how long it's been, what's been going on with me, etc. So yeah. c: See you at the next update.