"So, since nobody thinks building a giant robot is a good idea... We need a hero to kick global warming's ass. Since nobody is volunteering, I will be that hero! Russia!"

"Da?" Resonated a soft voice.

"You will be my back-up. Germany!"

"Vhat?" A gruff voice questioned, boredly.

"You will also be back-up. England!"

The Englishman scoffed, before sarcastically replying: "Oh let me guess... Back-up?"

"Haha, how did ya guess, dude?"

The older nation raised an eyebrow at the genuine reply and sighed, not bothered enough to reply, leaving a confused American waiting for an answer.

"Don't worry Amerique, the rosbif is just sexually-deprived," chuckled France, blowing a cheerful kiss to the Briton who was currently glaring over at him.

"You want a fight, you bloody bastard?" The messy-haired man growled, cracking his knuckles and slowly getting red in the face.

"I'll fight you into bed, mon cher~" with that last flirtatious comment, the usual argument erupted.

Two men currently sat in a small office in the large meeting building, one nursing a throbbing eyelid which was already turning an array of colours, mainly red, purple and brown. The other sat in front of him, smiling care-freely as he held a blue packet of ice in one hand.

"C'mon Iggy-dude, I need to put this on your eye so that the swelling goes down." The American grinned, though concern was laced in his voice.

The other blond huffed dramatically, scowling and pouting slightly he removed his hand from his face, letting it drop down to his side. The younger man chuckled quietly at this and lifted the hand which held the ice.

"I can do it myself..." Mumbled England, looking- with one eye open- everywhere but Alfred's close face. Proudly, America announced:

"I'm the hero, I'm just doing my duty!"

A small smile ghosted on the others lips but left as quickly as it came. You would be confused to hear that to these two this moment was a nice one. It was not often now-a-days that they would hold this long a conversation alone, or that it would even be this civil. Well, it was a nice moment...

"We haven't talked in a while," The Englishman began carefully considering his words. "Would you like to come to my house after this and have a some tea? Oh! I can even make that cottage pie that you used to love!" Alfred's face immediately greened, and before he could control his mouth.

"Yuck, I don't want food poisoning, thanks." 'Well... Shit,' he thought, bracing himself for the barrage of insults.

Arthur's eyes widened with shock and were filled with hurt, it was not a sight you often saw from the proud male, must have hit him hard. It hurt Alfred to see it.

Stuttering, England responded: "I thought you always enjoyed my cooking... You were the only one who didn't insult it!"

America rubbed the back of his head nervously, knowing that there was no salvaging this. "I uh- I never did... Like your cooking?"

Although it was such a minor thing, the Briton could not help but feel like his heart had been smashed into little, tiny pieces. Alfred was the only person who had ever said to have liked his cooking and now it turns out he lied to him the whole time. He wasn't sure what was more hurtful... The fact that his former colony had hid it it for this long, or the fact that he had just lost the last person who would enjoy his cooking. Hiding his face in his pale hands, he ran out of the door, out of the meeting building and into the woods just behind. After-all, England preferred his buildings to be in the countryside than in the city. Who knew it would also be a good escape area?

Meanwhile, the younger nation had his head in his hands and was irritated with himself. He hadn't meant to have let that one slip to his ex-mentor. He didn't actually think that Arthur's cooking was as bad as everyone said it was, but come on... It could be better. The cottage pie was probably the most bearable, drowned in gravy of-course.

Sighing, he got up and in the mind-track of looking for England. Checking out the window of the office, he saw that the other man's Mini Cooper was still sitting in its parking spot and so he raced out to find him.

"Bloody America, bloody tasteless gits... The lot of them."

Arthur was currently stomping through the woods holding back tears of anger. Groaning loudly, he took a seat in a pile of dead leaves, leaning back to look up at the sky which was slowly turning a beautiful shade of orange and pink. Fluffy white clouds drifted lazily across the skies and birds flew gracefully back to their nests.

He'd had enough, he wanted to teach the American nation a little lesson for being a bastard and lying to him all this time. He found himself grinning evilly, remembering a recent spell he had learnt to make someone uncontrollably speak the truth. That would work. Quickly, he drew a small pentagram into the dirt with a stick he had found nearby and began to chant memorised words. Well, he thought that they were memorised.

"Ah'me tri- tri osono... Ah- aelurus, declinemus aelurus." he murmured, the warm hands of magic snaked around his body, caressing his skin and playing with his hair. Repeating the words, he continued before feeling the magic fleet from his body. Vision blurring at the edges; he decided to sit back down until he caught his bearings.

"England? England!" The concerned blond called, looking around desperately for the other nation. Truly, he was getting really worried now... It was getting late and there was still no sign of the man. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes tiredly. Looking over to the nearby woods, he decided to go check over there.

"Englan-" he began to shout out again as he got closer to the trees, but stopped when he felt a surge of energy pulse through his body. He shrieked, before his vision clouded with black dots and he passed out.

...

"-ttle kitty, kitty?" There was a pause, "you're not dead are you?"

Slowly Alfred opened his eyes, and saw England's massive face directly in front of his.

"Oh England! Look I'm really sorry and- why the heck is your head so big?!"

"Oh good, you're awake." The British man sighed in relief, his emerald eyes still locked onto Alfred's small form. "You have no collar... You're a stray are you?"

The American wasn't impressed that England was looking down on him, or that he had just ignored his question... When did this 'dude' get so big? Plus, why was he calling Alfred a stray? Like he was some sort of... Cat?

Cautiously, the younger man lifted his 'hands' up to his eyes. To find that he was not holding up hands, but instead small, furry, white paws.

"Well fu-" he began, but was interrupted when he felt large hands hold him under the arms and pick him up. Don't be wrong, Alfred tried to put up a fight but there is really no use when you were a tubby cat. Huffing, the cat was submissive... For now atleast. Right now the American was focused on England, who was currently smiling kindly at him. He found it odd, the Briton hadn't directed a smile at him for such a very long time. Alfred missed that smile.

"I'll take you home, is that alright, poppet?" The Englishman grinned, holding the white and brown cat in his arms as he walked towards his car, whistling his national anthem. Alfred snickered "nationalistic bastard" he muttered, glad that all that came out was a quiet meow. As the cat nation got placed down gently on the upholstered car-seat, he couldn't help but find his situation laughable... However, something told him that staying with his former mentor wouldn't be that bad. Oh well, he was sleepy. Tiredly, Alfred curled up listening to the engine start up and the radio turn on. What came on was a radio station called 'Capital Fm.' Well, he was surprised. Really, he expected some of England's punk music to come on. Not that he was complaining, but maybe this will be a good thing... He could get dirt on Arthur. He chuckled a little, which sounded a lot like Yzma's evil kitten laugh from Disney's 'The Emperor's New Groove'. Slowly, his eyelids slid shut and he sighed out contently. Purring as he felt a hand stroke his ears gently. 'Wow,' Alfred thought, 'I see why cats like this, it's like an tiny orgasm!' Then he widened his eyes, remembering the point.

"Shit, I'm a freakin' cat."

Okay, he was flipping out. Would he be able to go back? 'Oh right, England is into that hocus pocus crap, he could turn me back-' then the lightning bolt of realisation struck him. He couldn't communicate with the Briton, neither did he think the other nation would want to turn him back after what he said to him. "Shit. Shit. Shit-"

Worriedly, Arthur looked over at the cat which was growling and whining loudly. Could cats have motion sickness? Sighing, he just hoped that his other pet wouldn't mind the new addition to the family.

So this is the new series I am working on, I was just thinking how cute this would be. Again, my story had no proper update days, it'll just come around. They will come out considerably slower than my other stories as I'm back at school and I'm doing important examinations and getting homework in fluffy, pink parcels from hell. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the prologue. :)