Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine.

Chapter 2: Course of Action

Conference Room
Berlin, Germany – 11:30 pm
December 16th

Considering the circumstances, when Germany – along with a somber Prussia – pushed through the doors to the meeting room, he expected to use his best screaming voice to shut up all the warring Nations.

What he didn't expect was a tense kind of silence.

Everyone seemed on edge. England and France were glaring at each other (and France wasn't even trying to grope his European rival). America looked like he was one jab away from declaring war on every single continent. The Nordics were frigidly keeping to themselves; Denmark was holding his battle-axe in a threatening manner with his left hand. Russia's childish smile was gone, replaced with a sinister blank look that had everyone except Belarus trying to edge away from him. Germany could practically hear the kolkolkol in his mind. Belarus, however, was giving dirty looks at anyone who so much happened to glance at her brother. The remaining Baltic States were looking down, doing their best not to shake with fear from being so close to two psycho Nations. Poland was the only other Nation willing to risk proximity with Russia to be with Lithuania. China and Hong Kong were worried; the former was practically strangling his Hello Kitty doll. Japan was as difficult to read as always; only a slight furrowing of his eyebrows betrayed his concern at the situation. Switzerland was clutching his ever-present gun in a death grip with his right hand while the other was playing with a piece of paper, his eyes darting from one Nation to the other. Romano was quietly mouthing obscene words to no one, while Spain was looking at his friend anxiously. Hungary was gazing at Austria's empty chair, her face plain and devoid of emotion. Her eyes were red and puffy though – she must have cried on the way here.

Another thing Germany noticed: not everyone was here.

The continents of Africa, Central America, and South America were absent. Most of Asia was not here, and quite a few of the Europeans were missing as well.

His eyes drifted over to the spot where Italy usually sat. It looked so dreary and depressing without the happy Italian to occupy it. When Germany had found out about the Italy's kidnapping via international news, he immediately booked a flight to Milan and informed the others about it, all the while keeping his cool and not freaking out. When he called China, he received the shocking news about Taiwan's and Korea's disappearance. Just then, another call came in and Germany was then informed about Norway's and Finland's missing statuses by Denmark. After that, he took call after call from unnerved Nations, all asking the same thing: Where are they? That was when he finally decided to hold a meeting in Berlin.

Germany finally shook himself from his thoughts and went to take his seat, his brother following behind him. Their footsteps echoed ominously, seeming to be louder than it really was in the silent room. It was a relief when they were finally able to sit.

And then came the hardest part.

Germany cleared his throat and announced, "The meeting is now in session . . ." He trailed off, expecting America to interrupt him and babble heroic nonsense. It was disappointing (and a little awkward) when the usually energetic American stayed silent. I will be so glad when this is over . . . "But first, where are the rest of the Nations?" He gestured at the empty seats.

"They went into hiding as soon as they heard the news, aru," China answered. "They think the kidnappers will strike again, aru . . ."

"Cowards," someone muttered, "the lot of them."

"That's enough," Germany said loudly. "Now, I know some of you had already examined the scenes where the kidnapping took place."

"Yes," Estonia started. He was more composed than Lithuania. "Lithuania and I pulled some strings and managed to get into the supermarket where Latvia was taken. Lots of police presence. There were dozens of witnesses, and all of them saw the same thing: a man in black taking down Latvia with a tranquilizer gun."

"That's impossible," Germany interjected. "Tranquilizers alone are not enough to take down one of us easily."

"Actually," America jumped in, "I got one of my forensic guys to study the darts left in Canada's house, and he said one dart contained enough of the stuff to take down four bears – apparently, it was extremely concentrated."

"Still," England huffed, "it would still take time for it to take effect. They might be slow and sluggish, but they should have been able to fight off a kidnapper."

"Perhaps adrenaline might have sped up the effects," Japan murmured. "And we don't know how many people were involved in capturing each of them."

China said, "And some of them might not have been in an adrenaline-inducing kind of situation, aru. When Hong Kong and I went to investigate, there were no signs of struggle in Korea's house, aru."

"Taiwan's dinner was spiked," Hong Kong stated.

"Before they went into hiding, Wy told Sealand to tell me that Australia's bedroom had lingering traces of unknown gas still in the air," England added. "When she stood there for fifteen minutes, she felt dizzy and drowsy at the same time. They must have gassed Australia . . ."

Prussia failed to hold back a snicker. Hungary sent him a withering look and gave a fleeting glance at her pan as a warning. He paled, and promptly shut up.

Germany decided to add what he discovered in Milan. "The restaurant where Italy ate – Dario's – was full when an armed man went in and shouted out Italy's human name: Feliciano Vargas. According to the patrons, Italy was already unconscious."

"Probably fainted," Romano mumbled.

"A bit of blood was found on Norway's doorstep, but that's it," Iceland said quietly.

"There was a chair knocked over in Liechtenstein's house," Switzerland said with closed eyes. "Faint smell of chloroform, too. And a card."

"F'nl'nd's eggn'g w's t'nt'd," Sweden said in a low voice. "'nd s'me k'nd of c'rd . . ."

"I didn't see anything in Austria's house," Hungary admitted, sagging dejectedly as she did so. "I was busy at the time, and I was one of the last to hear of the news, so I rushed through the rooms. If the kidnappers used anything, I think it was either cleaned up or dissipated by the time I came to look . . ."

Everyone looked at Russia. They all knew that he would be the one to visit Ukraine's house for clues.

Russia said unhappily, "Nothing. The grass was scuffed, and her pitchfork was on the ground, but no fingerprints other than hers, da. And the karta* . . . Kolkolkol . . ." His dark aura intensified. Poor Lithuania was sweating buckets.

"Did anyone check Greece's place?" Germany inquired.

Iceland said, "Turkey did. He told me that one of Greece's cats was howling nonstop; she had to be taken to the vet. She wasn't hurt, though. Mount Athos was missing."

Germany frowned as he took this all in. These were all professional kidnappings (they had to be, since they targeted Nations). But . . . how did they know about their existence in the first place? Officially, all of the personifications were diplomats from their countries, but what were the chances that of all the diplomats in the world, they happened to choose twelve Nations? And, from what he found out from the others, all the kidnappings were done with the Nations' capabilities in mind . . .

Then, he remembered what Switzerland said. "A card?"

He nodded and held up the piece of paper – the card – he was playing with for all to see. It was white with a black blob in the centre. "It has a silhouette of a rat in it . . . and that's it."

"I have one too, da." Russia held up an identical card.

Sweden nodded, placing his on the table.

"Did anyone else find a card?" Germany asked sharply. "This could be important."

America tentatively said, "I might have . . . but I threw it away . . . heroically . . ." He laughed sheepishly.

Everyone rolled their eyes at him.

"If there was a card in Riga – in any of the others' places if they were outside or somewhere crowded when they were kidnapped – it probably got lost," Estonia said.

"We searched through Taiwan's and Korea's houses rather fast, aru," China muttered. "We only had two days, aru . . ."

"Same situation here," Hungary added.

Germany picked up Sweden's card and scrutinized it, all the while thinking that this was the smoothest and most productive meeting they have ever had. That is . . . kind of sad. Just as Switzerland said, it was just a black silhouette of a rat with a plain white background. It was matching on the other side. Germany was sure that the abductions were the work of an organization; it was too neat to be anything else. This card might be their logo.

"Here's what we do!" America exclaimed, reverting back to his old "heroic" self.

Germany looked up, startled at the outburst. It was so quiet . . . and you just had to ruin it.

"You guys back me up, while I'm the hero and beat up the bad guys and find our friends!"

"Sit down," England ordered. "We don't even know who the 'bad guys' are."

"New plan! You guys back me up, while I'm the hero and figure out who the bad guys are – and then beat them up and find our friends!"

"This isn't a joke, American bastard," Romano snarled. "Twelve of us are missing; you can't be that conceited!"

Germany watched, crestfallen, as the Nations' restraint quickly became history and reverted back to their obnoxious selves. Romano, stressed because of his brother's disappearance, lost his sense of self-preservation and started insulting everyone in sight – including Russia (and, by extension, Belarus).

"Kolkolkol . . ." Russia pulled out his pipe just as Belarus readied her knives. Before Germany could stop them, they launched an attack at the swearing Italian.

Clang!

Russia's pipe was blocked by a gun that was wielded by America. "Cut it out! As the hero, I command you to stop fighting."

Belarus growled and threw a knife at the American, who hastily ducked. The knife stuck to the opposite wall – two centimeters to the left of Denmark's neck. The incensed Dane stood up, hefted his axe, and swung at Belarus. She jumped out of the way and crashed into Romano, who then reacted by instinctively trying to punch Belarus. Spain jumped into the fight, but was kicked out by a wayward kick from Romano (he was as useless in fighting as Italy). Spain hurtled into Japan, who then bumped into Hungary. She thought Prussia was trying to grope her, and proceeded to smack the nearby German with her pan. He flew across the room and landed on Russia – who was, by now, extremely pissed off – and Lithuania.

After that, everyone else got dragged into the fight in some way.

The rest of the Nordics reluctantly decided to try to rescue Denmark when Belarus started using bigger and much more dangerous knives. Poland and Estonia joined in because of (a very freaked out) Lithuania. China and Hong Kong threw in some impressive martial arts when Japan was accidentally attacked by both Romano and Spain. Somehow, the neutral Switzerland got thrown into the fray when an unknown country grabbed his ankle and pulled him into the fight. France, who was already arguing with England, misheard some of the insults Romano was yelling from the middle of the brawl and ran in, yelling French comebacks. The British man followed, not quite done with their squabble yet.

Germany stood at the sidelines, staring at the battle between countries with impassive eyes. Underneath the cool exterior though, the emotions he kept locked up bubbled and burst through the iron wall of his will. All the worry, rage, and irritation at the current situation made itself known in one powerful, booming bellow. "STOP!"

And they did.

The Nations took one look at Germany's terrifying visage, and decided that indeed, they wanted to live. The fight broke up. Russia, Belarus, America, Denmark, Hungary, and Switzerland all withdrew their weapons, while the rest took their hands off of each other's necks.

The scary German watched them all calm down with twitching eyes, then sat down himself. He shot one glare at America before emphasizing his next words. "This is what we are going to do: all of us are going to our bosses and get permission to get access to the government databases. We are going to research any organizations with this –" he held up the card, "– as their icon."

"A mysterious organization leaves their symbol on the scene of the crime," America mumbled. "Cliché."

Germany glowered at him. "We will meet up in two months to share our findings. Whose turn is it to host the meeting?"

Japan raised his hand.

"We will all meet in Tokyo in two months. Until then, no one is to do anything to search for or rescue the others without informing us. Do I make myself clear?" Germany pointedly glared at America.

There was a general murmur of assent.

Germany leaned back on his chair. "Good. This meeting is over."

The White House
Washington, DC, America – 2:22 pm
December 17th

America waited for an audience with the President of the United States.

After the meeting, everyone besides the very-scary Germany (America wasn't scared of Germany; he was a hero, and heroes didn't get scared and they most certainly did not almost squeak when they saw Germany's very scary face) fled the room (no, not "fled." Heroes did not flee – they fly away after saving the world!).

America had caught up with the quietly arguing England and France and proceeded to reassure them that everything would be alright (with him as the hero and them as his sidekicks, nothing could go wrong!). America was not laughing at the two black eyes France was sporting. He was not.

(Okay, maybe a little. On the inside.)

England then started his "Don't Butcher the Queen's Language!" speech, which America ignored. France was dramatically mourning his injured eyes, claiming that they would never recover from the beating they took today. Never mind that he had gotten numerous black eyes throughout the centuries; never before had he gotten two at the same time! This time, there wouldn't be a beautiful eye to compensate for the ugly one!

That was when America decided to heroically ditch them.

After a long flight and some rest, he went back to Ottawa to pick up the polar bear from the vet. The bear's left back paw – what was his name . . .? – was healing up quite nicely. He had found the poor thing in his brother's house, scratching feebly at the closed door of his bedroom. Without opposable thumbs, he wasn't able to escape the room. The bear – Kumochigi? – kept asking who he was on the flight to Washington, DC, and America kept saying his name in reply absently. At one point, he had asked where Canada was (which slightly surprised him – didn't Kumechiro forget his owner's name?), and America had answered with, "He's going to be back soon, because I – as the hero – will rescue him from the bad guys!"

And now, he was waiting for the agent to come back and inform him of his audience with the President, Kamijirou safely snoozing away on his DC house.

A tall, broad-shouldered man rounded the corner informed him that the President was ready to talk to him.

America – being America – ignored the agent's lead and ran through the halls, eventually bursting into the President's office without as much as a knock.

The President looked up without a hint of surprise. He got used to it after the first twenty-seven times. "Good afternoon, Alfred. What can I do for you?"

America grinned. "Hey, boss! I want those super secret codes that can access everything in the country's database!"

The President blinked, and then crossed his arms on the desk. He had been dealing with Alfred F. Jones for years now. While it never ceased to amaze him that this man was the personification of his country, he still managed to properly respond to his often-unusual requests with poise and decorum.

This time, however, he sat there gaping like a fish on land that had just seen the entire world's saltwater supply vanish in a puff of smoke.

"What?" he choked out. Never before had America asked him something like this!

America laughed, scratching the back of his head. "Oh, right! You don't know! Hm, I wonder if Canadia's boss knows . . . He must be freaking out right now . . ."

"What?" he repeated. "What don't I know?"

He turned solemn (something that had amazed the President). "Twelve Nations were kidnapped. We're trying to find out who took them and where they are, but we need access to information – lots of information." He looked at him with those blue eyes of his – damn it, not the eyes!

The President sighed. He can see why this was important. Twelve Nations missing! But secret codes were also important – and America wasn't exactly the most responsible person out there . . .

"Here." The President ripped a page from a notepad and scribbled down a few letters and numbers. It wasn't professional or safe (far from it), but he would really like to finish his paperwork by sundown, and the two hours it would take to safely give America the codes could be used to finish a fourth of the stack. Besides, he trusts America. He had more than two hundred years of experience, after all. He had helped turn the United States into the most powerful country on Earth. (He ignored the nagging voice in his head called Common Sense.) "I trust you with this, Alfred. We both know how important and dangerous these codes are if it were to fall in the wrong hands. As a hero, this is what you are going to do: after you finish with it, burn it immediately. We do not want the evil people to get a hold of it."

America saluted, thanked his boss, and left the room.

Internet Café
Washington, DC, America – 2:59 pm
December 17th

America sat in front of his government laptop. It was extremely secure, almost impossible to hack, and was currently showing the country's most secret and deadly information.

He was in an Internet café.

He leaned back into the comfy leather armchair, glancing at the copy of the card Germany had emailed to him.

The most boring part of being a hero was information gathering (well, unless information gathering involved breaking into a house or interrogating someone – legally).

He was very grateful to the President for giving him the codes (he thought it would take hours of begging), but kind of wished he was still pestering his boss. It was more fun than staring at top-secret government files about some of the most dangerous organizations in the world.

He stifled a yawn and examined the twenty-seventh black rat (was that a mouse?) logo on the screen. God, his eyes were getting blurry . . .

He slapped himself, earning him a few strange looks. It was only afternoon, and he was already being bored to sleep! Maybe he could leave it to the other nations . . .

No! Heroes didn't ditch work to his sidekicks! With renewed motivation, he decided that no, the black rodent on the screen was not a rat at all; it was a mouse. Or perhaps a gerbil . . . NO! Who cared what kind of rodent it was (was a gerbil a rodent?)! As long as it wasn't a rat, it was wrong!

Besides, that definitely did not look like a gerbil.

America sighed, rubbing his eyes and cursing his distracted thoughts. This was going to be a long two months.

*Карта (Karta) = Card (please correct me if this translation is wrong; I used Google translate.)

As you can see, America's thought processes differ from Germany's . . .

I'm trying to improve my writing skills, but I'm still not showing signs of improvement in describing a character's feelings . . . And Sweden! Oh god, I have no idea how to write Sweden's speech. Did I do it right?

I actually wrote three versions of this chapter before I settled with posting this. The other two are just going to sit in my USB, gathering dust . . . Maybe for future reference . . .

Six reviews! I never expected that many, to be honest. This time, I'm hoping for at least eight people to review this chapter before I post the next one :)