Okay, here's the thing. This fanfic isn't all mine. My friends and I started this a few months ago. We each write a chapter, and then it gets passed to the next person. How do you tell who wrote which chapter? Well, i'll go by our cosplay names. i'm Sealand. This chapter was written by Russia! Enjoy!

The pale glow of the computer screen washed Jeffory Adment's face a pale white. It was night time, almost midnight, but Jeffory wasn't tired. Far from it, actually. The infamous conspiricy theorist had just come across one of the greatest discoveries of his career.

Riiiiing!

The sharp trill of a telephone awakened a certain blond-haired blue-eyed nation at midnight.

If I ignore it, it will go away...he thought, still half asleep.

RIIIIING!

America opened one eye to look at the glowing cell phone on his bedside table. Grudgingly, he opened the other and grabbed the phone to check for caller ID.

The CIA?

Still only half awake, America answered the phone in the middle of the third ring.

"This is the United States of America speaking," he said, trying not to sound as tired as he felt.

"Yes, this is the director of the CIA," a slightly muffled coive on the other end answered.

"Sorry for disturbing you at such a late hour."

"No problem," America lied, glancing wistfully back at his pillow. "Whaddya need?"

"Well sir," the coive on the phone began, "Someone hacked into our files."

America yawned, "And this couldn't have waited ''till morning?"

"Well, they didn't hack just any file, sir."

The CIA director's voice was apprehensive.

"Which file was it?" America asked, becoming more and more tense. And more and more awake. "Oh god...they didn't hack...that file, did they?"

"I'm afraid they did, sir."

"And what did they do with it?" America asked, fully awake now.

"They copied it. All of the information. We didn't know where it came from, or where the information is now. It could be all over the internet by tomorrow!"

"That would be bad! That would be very, very bad!" America was out of bed and changing out of his pajamas, the phone lodged in between his shoulder and his ear. "I'm going to call England There's stuff in there about him too, and-"

The director cut him off, "Yours wasn't the only file that was copied."

America was stunned silent for a moment, "They got ALL of them?"

"Even Sealand's," the voice replied grimly.

"So let me get this straight. ALL of the files were copied, and are probably going to be public soon, if not already?"

"Correct."

America muttered something unspeakable and sat down on the bed. "Does anyone else know?"

"Only you, sir," came the reply.

"I'm going to call England, he might know what to do."