Sorry for the long wait. I'm thankful to everyone who wished for its continuation. I'm sorry this chapter doesn't deal with Japan, although he'll appear in the next one (if and when I get that up).

Welcome to the World 09

England stomped down the hall. He did not know why he was annoyed exactly, except that he had the distinct feel that he had been wronged by something or someone. He was in such a hurry that he bumped straight into Canada as he was turning the corner.

'E – England?' Canada stumbled back, catching himself before he could fall.

"Canada?" England stared at him, equally surprised.

'That was…America's room…' Canada's eyes flickered to the route England had just come from.

A blush leapt to his cheeks. "It's not what you think it was!" he snapped.

"I – I didn't say anything though!" Canada waved his hands about him innocently, praying England did not take out his frustration on him.

England, however, suddenly lost steam. He sagged. His shoulders slumped. "He said…when this is over…we should hang out in the real world…"

"Oh," Canada gave him a knowing look, which somehow only infuriated him more.

"This is stupid! Why would I want to hang out with that idiot?" he cursed and swore, stomping down the hallway and all the way back to his room.

As soon as he was there, England flung himself into bed and threw the covers over him, listening to the silence that seemed to mount in the darkness.

He was…so stupid. Somehow, when he had been talking with America he felt more self-conscious than usual and then, when America had asked him to hang out he had been…happy and also a little guilty. He blushed. America was so accepting of everything. He loved everything. In all his time in The World, from the moment he had lived with Grandpa Roma and Canada and the others to the point when Atlas Corp had taken over, he had never encountered anyone quite like him.

People he had met before had once said to him; 'Let's meet up in the real world' before. England never did, even when he promised he would. Sometimes, he would make up excuses until they gave up or got fed up with him. This was the first time, however, that England had felt guilty about it.

"This is stupid," he murmured to himself and buried his head further into his pillow.

XX

Germany clutched his bleeding arm, breathing heavily as he leaned against the cool rock face. It had been hard getting in and even harder getting out again after their sabotage attempt succeeded. He had not expected to see Canada there either. Seeing the face of his old comrade shook his resolve more than he had let slip, or than he wanted to admit either.

Italy crouched down beside him, strumming his instrument to the tune of a healing song. "G – Germany…are you okay?"

"Fine," he grunted. "We somehow managed to complete what we set out to do. The mods will be in chaos for some time and while they try to settle things we can make our move to the administration area."

Italy's gaze softened as his fingers plucked the strings of his instrument. "And then Prussia and Germany's dream will come true, won't it?"

Germany nodded, feeling his wounds close up and his energy slow restored as Italy's soothing song felt as though it was coursing through his veins. Just a little longer and the dream Prussia had wished for would be realised. Just a little longer and the revenge for his death would come to fruitation. It was like killing two birds with one stone.

"Soon no one will need to leave this world. They won't be forced to choose between this world and what they call reality. This world will become reality for everyone."

Italy nodded enthusiastically. "And then we won't have to say goodbye to anyone and everyone will be happy, won't they? This world is such a wonderful place after all!"

"That's right," Germany smiled weakly, patting Italy's head. "Just a little bit longer," he promised.

If his brother could see him now, would he be pleased? If Grandpa Rome was still alive, would he be proud?

XX

That morning, the smell of England's burnt cooking put everyone in bad spirits, including England himself. America awoke to the overpowering odour and the sound of Belarus bickering with England. They were both pointing at a map of The World spread over the table amongst plates of charred food and bottles of vodka.

"The Moonflower virus at a standstill for now but we have no idea whether it will mutate or adapt to the sensory blockers. We don't have a moment to lose!" England was insisting. It looked as though he had not slept well.

America strode into the room, opening his mouth to cheerily greet them when Canada burst in through the main entrance, breathing hard.

"G – Guy! Have you heard?"

"What do you suggest we do though? We can't locate Germany or Italy!" Belarus scowled.

"Guys, big news!"

"I think we can make an educated guess on where they are going though," England looked at her coolly, which America was sure made Belarus want to sharpen her knives on his skull.

"Listen to me!" Canada yelled.

They all turned around.

"Oh, Canada, you were here?" Russia smiled pleasantly.

"I've been here for a while now!" he said, exasperated. He had a look of long-suffering etched onto his face. "Anyway, have you heard the news? It's all over the forums and everything!" he came to the table where they were all sitting and put down a tablet with digital writing flashing across the screen.

"An attack on the mods?" Russia read with barely concealed delight.

"It was Germany and Italy! This was what they were doing when I saw them! They sabotaged them! Messed up all their moderator privileges and locked them out of their own boards!"

"Oh? Pretty smart of them to distract the mods like that."

England tapped the tablet. "If we can't come up with an anti-virus on our own, we need to find them soon. We know what their objective is. What would we do if we were them?"

"Wait, you know what their objective is? This is the first time I've heard about it!" America jumped in. He had not appreciated being left out of the conversation before but only now did he find an opening to barge in.

England turned round to him with a cold look. For some reason, he did not appear too friendly. "Didn't we tell you? Germany and Italy's objective is to spread the virus to as many people as possible of course. For now, perhaps we should head towards places of power like where the mod HQ and the administrator spheres are. I'm sure we could also hack into restricted areas of The World."

"It will be dangerous for us but if they're going anywhere it will be to restricted areas," Russia, for once, agreed quite easily.

"So where do we head first?" Belarus scowled. America was being ignored again and it did not sit well with him. He was part of the team now, wasn't he? Shouldn't he be more involved? Shouldn't he also take part in the decision making?

"How about here?" America strolled through them, almost unsettling Russia off of his seat. He struck his finger at random at a point on the map on the table.

"That's a restricted zone for moderators only," there was a hint of warning in Canada's voice.

"You can get us in there though, can't you?" America grinned, feeling more involved already.

Canada gulped. He obviously disliked the direction that his gung-ho companions were taking. "It might take a while but I'll try," he nodded.

XX

While Canada was working on hacking into one of the moderator-only areas, England stepped outside for some fresh air. America, not wishing to stay with Russia and Belarus, stepped out with him and they fell into pace side by side.

It was early morning and though the traders and NPC shop keepers were all out, proclaiming their wares, there were hardly any players to buy them. A few mages passed them, heading the other way toward one of the logging out rings, but other than that the streets had the appearance of an abandoned town.

"It sure is quiet," he murmured and tried not to shiver. He did not want England to know that he found the hollow echoes of the NPC's voice ringing out in the silence to be creepy. He did not want him to think that he was scared.

"Less people are coming to The World because of the virus. Even though they've temporarily stopped the spread, no one wants to risk it," England cast his glance around, his nose wrinkled at the pitiful display of stalls.

That made sense. If America could have, he would have logged out too. He wondered how England and the others could remain so fearless – or rather nonchalant – when there was an epidemic going around. Or maybe…

"Hey, I have a question for you."

England huffed. "For the last time, America, the reason why donuts have a hole in the middle is because - "

"That's not it!" America snapped, blushing. "It's you. You and your whole gang and Italy and Germany."

"What about us?"

America paused. He really did not understand England at all, but somehow he wanted to know more. It was not like him to throw up his hands and give up. When someone distanced himself from him, he tried three times as hard to close that distance.

Just as he thought of how to approach the subject, he felt a chill run down the back of his neck. He barely drew another breath when suddenly he felt England push him back.

He stumbled, and it was fortunate that he did, for a blade buried itself in the ground where he had stood not moments ago.

"Shit!" America swore as he narrowly missed the attack. It was not a human moderator this time but a modbot, an automatic peacekeeper and purger with no logic but what was contained in its programming.

"Mods? But I thought - "

There was no time to finish his sentence. The bot moved in swiftly for the kill, extending its weapons with every attempt to cut and kill.

"C'mon, let's get out of here!" England made to grab him but the bot intervened, forcing them apart with its drill-like blades.

"America!" England cried as the blade cut his arm. America cried out and rolled onto the ground.

England began to chant a quick spell, calling up shards of ice to his aid. The flying machine swerved and went for him as the needles shot forth. Most of them missed and the machine managed to catch England on the arm before he could fully dodge, slicing his sleeve. America hauled himself up and loaded armour-piercing bullets into his gun. His shots distracted the bot enough to veer his attention away from England, who was recovered and was chanting again.

As the bot sped towards America, a sudden ball of black flames engulfed it. America shot one round, two, straight at the sensors. The bot fizzled and crackled. Smoke exploded from inside it and it fell like a dented trash can to the floor.

America hardly had time to put his pistols away before being grabbed by England, hauled away through the streets and down secluded alleyways.

As soon as they were far enough, they stopped to catch their breath.

"England, are you okay?" America grabbed him by the shoulders, looking him over frantically.

England flushed and broke free. "I'm fine," he said, gripping his arm.

America spotted something red on his torn sleeve. "You're hurt," he grabbed England's injured arm, holding it up for inspection.

"I said I'm fine!" England snapped. He tried to wrench his arm away but America kept his grip firm.

"You're bleeding!" he cried. He was not as surprised as he thought his would be. He had already had a hunch that something like this was going on and here it was; proof of his theory and the reason why England and the others were not concerned about the virus infecting them. "I've had my suspicions for a while but this proves it. England, you…you can't log out either, can you?"

England made several attempts to speak. He opened and closed his mouth several times but nothing came out. Eventually he stopped fishing for an excuse. He hung his head.

"You're right…and you're wrong…" he whispered. "I can't log out but…" he hesitated. His hands trembled. For the first time, it looked as though he wanted to cry.

Why, America wondered, did he have such an expression on his face? What was it that he was hiding? Or was he really so untrustworthy that England could not tell him? Somehow, the thought of that pierced him more than the pain in his arm.

"It's fine," he muttered glumly. "If you don't want to tell me…"

"Wait, America!" England caught his sleeve. "H – Have you ever heard of Roma before?"

"Roma?" America screwed up his face. It sounded familiar…

"He was the original creator of The World. After his death, Atlas Corp took over and turned it into The World that we know today. We called him Grandpa Rome."

Oh yes, he remembered one of them saying that they had been around since Roma started the world, which made them one of the first players of The World but…

"Wait…I think I heard about Atlas Corp taking over on the news…" Alfred hummed, trying to remember. However, the chilling sound of sirens cut through his thoughts.

"There are more moderators?" England hissed, poking his head around the corner of the alleyway. He shook his head. "No, mod-bots. They're probably filling in for the moderators since they're all occupied with the chaos Germany and Italy created."

"But why are they here?" America wondered.

"That's what I would like to know," England hissed.

XX