Consider this a very belated horror story. I am still writing Iron Weakened by Rust, which is not related to this story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. But you knew that, didn't you?

The holidays were coming. They were so close, the citizens could practically taste it. The children couldn't wait to open presents on the most adored and awaited morning. Everyone seemed happy.

Well...except one person. Unfortunately, that one person also represented the country as a whole.

Eduard Von Bock, the normally happy technological extraordinaire, was having a hard time concentrating on making his treats. He normally could do such a thing just fine. Recently, however, things had been getting to him.

It seemed to be on his mind ever since the Nordics saw him last.

What they had been planning, he didn't exactly know. All he knew was the result of said planning. He had gotten a phone call from Tino that day, claiming it was good news.

Eduard, of course, wasn't sure if he could believe it. He knew this was his best buddy he was talking to, but he had to take it with a grain of salt. Of course, he might have also been tipped off by the snickering he heard in the background.

Unfortunately, his glee at what he thought this "good news" was caused him to lose any rational thinking. Dropping anything he was doing at that given moment, Eduard made his way to the Nordic's house.

"Hello? Anyone home?" He entered what looked like a dark house. It was unusually cold, and there was no sign of the Nordic men anywhere. Eduard was starting to wonder if this had been some sort of mistake.

"Where is everybody...?" As soon as he stepped into the other room, the lights flickered on. When they did, Eduard felt a cold liquid drench him from above. Looking down, he saw a bucket clatter down onto the floor.

What happened next, no one was sure. All he remembered was the Nordics laughing. At him. Tino seemed to contributing to said laughing quite merrily. He remembered tearing up, and running home, soaking wet. He remembered scolding himself for falling for such a cheap trick.

After that...well, he wasn't too sure. At some point, Eduard decided this was the last time they would play such a prank on him. The Nordics poked fun at him and played pranks on him for all this time. Something had to be done.

But what could he do? Was there any way to get back at them?

Knowing who Eduard was, and who he was dealing with, the answer seemed to be obvious. In fact, his plan was already beginning to form...

...

Later that night, after the Nordics had all gone somewhere, Eduard snuck back in to the house, already preparing for what he was about to do. Of course, it was difficult to get past the other countries who saw him.

It was hard to explain the numerous paint cans and bizarre outfit he had with him. He, of course, had to explain he was going to go "burn things". Of course, it was exactly what he was going to do, but his plan was more complicated than that. It was hard to explain the dynamite, along with everything else he had.

Most people probably thought he was going to destroy old rags and broken appliances, or something.

Quietly, he re-entered the house. He laid out the cans by size: Blue, red, white, and yellow. He carefully began painting the Nordic flags on the floor...

...

The five Nordics should have realized something was off when they got back. The lights were on, but they recalled turning them off when they left.

Of course, they'd been out drinking, so who knew for sure.

Slowly walking in, all five knew for sure that, yes, something had changed. Their flags were painted on the floor, with arrows pointing in different directions. Each Nordic went to where their flag was. Their eyes followed the arrows.

"Uh...Kinda obvious without saying it, but...think we should split up?" The Nordics shrugged. They didn't want to, but they didn't expect anything too horrible to happen.

Quietly, the five of them followed their arrows. Each door that they were led to, was also painted with their flags. Not actually sure what to expect, each one opened it and went in, the doors clicking shut behind them.

The whole time, all five of them were unaware that, in the shadows, a cloaked figure was watching.

...

A part of Tino wishes he'd defied his arrow, and stayed with Berwald. Another part of him felt he had to go by what was indicated. The room he'd come into was empty and fairly dark. Well, empty except for an odd set of televisions on the wall. All of them gave off a faint light. Tino felt drawn to them, for some reason.

He slowly approached them, making sure there weren't any traps or anything. When he reached them, he saw a chair with the sign bearing the words "take a seat" in Finnish.

The Finn, figuring nothing was bad so far, did what it said. He looked at the TVs and the whole system, trying to figure out what to do. All he saw were the other four Nordic flags painted under numbers.

"Wonder what this means..." Before Tino could press anything, the televisions flickered to different channels. He watched as he saw his fellow Nordics appear on the screens.

"Wh-what's going on?" A voice crackled to life from a hidden intercom. It was too distorted and deep to sound familiar, though.

"Hello, Tino. Enjoying the show?" Tino looked around for the source of the voice. "Hope you're settled in for the feature film that's about to start." What this person was saying made the Finn's blood run cold.

"Who are you? What is all this?!" The voice chuckled, presumable amused.

"Well, since you asked so nicely, let's just say it this way. You'll be the special guest to watch what I call the 'Nordic Snuff Film: Limited Edition'. Lucky you! They, obviously, don't see the hidden cameras I installed, but you can. After one's part has ended, another will begin, until all have had their turn."

"Snuff film? What...?" All but one of the televisions flicked off automatically, except one. This one's indicative number? The flag of Sweden.

"You also have the honor of my commentary for each of them. Would you kindly sit back, relax, and watch it all unfold?"

...

Berwald had no idea how an aquarium got into this room, let alone one of this size. The deep blue color was reminiscent of the ocean. The Swede flattened his palms against the glass.

In actuality, the "aquarium" was simply a huge tank of water. It was still rather soulful to look at. He looked at the water, almost as though he thought it could take his soul. It seemed to glow.

When Berwald was most taken off guard, he heard an intercom come to life.

"Good day, Berwald. Do you like the tank I installed?" Berwald tried to find the source, but no luck. "Does it seem familiar to you?" He wasn't sure what to say, so he silently shook his head.

"Oh, really? This doesn't remind you of your earlier days? You've forgotten when you were the conqueror of the Baltic Sea?" Berwald's eyes widened. How'd this person know? Besides, he didn't live that life anymore.

"Wh't's going on? What 're you talking about?" Was there any point in asking?

"Well, then. You've conquered the sea back then. Maybe it's time for the sea to conquer you?" At that point, the Swede heard something behind him. He looked over his shoulder, and saw that an enormous crack had formed on the glass. It had begun to spread.

"That's quite a few gallons of water in there, Berwald. I could tell you a way out, but...if I were you, I wouldn't hold my breath." Berwald watched in horror as the crack reached the edges of the glass. In what seemed like a split second, the entire thing shattered.

Icy cold water hit him in full force. The room filled quickly. Berwald was swept off his feet before he could react. He could see nothing but blue, deep blue.

The last words he heard were an amplified, and overly cheery, "Farewell!" He wished his death had been quick. But he felt the pain, he felt that unwanted calm, he felt the water fill his lungs.

It wasn't long before big fish Berwald went belly-up.

...

Mathias looked around. He had a feeling something went wrong. That feeling was just...there. It seemed to be a Nordic thing. The Dane also had that instinct when he saw this room full of axes.

"Uh...When'd we get an armory? Kind of a weird surprise, guys! Guys?" His little joke obviously went unnoticed, except by a voice.

"Ha ha ha, Mathias. I'm so amused. Maybe you could've been a comedian?" He thought he was hearing things. He drank the most, so it was a possibility. The voice was rather sarcastic.

"Uh...M'dunno. I was too busy conquering. You know, viking stuff and all that." The voice grunted.

"I know. Why do you think those axes are there?" Mathias turned to look at them all. They were lined up in rows, barely being held up. "Just think of all those axes as representing all of your victims. They might want a chance to obtain peace, wouldn't you think?"

Mathias couldn't move. The axes in front of him looked ready to fall at any second. The voice chuckled, saying, "Good-bye, Mathias~!" When the intercom went dead, the axes moved swiftly.

All at once, they swung down, broken from whatever flimsy bonds that held them. It wasn't long before the once great Dane was chopped to pieces.

...

Exactly why would Emil wind up in here? All he saw were weird machines, and what seemed like a bucket hanging from the ceiling. He kept looking up at the ceiling, not seeing anything on the ground.

"Tell me something, Emil," The Icelander heard come out of nowhere, "how hot does lava become?" Emil was confused at the question, but answered anyway.

"Erm...about a thousand degrees Celsius?" The voice continued.

"Well, then. It would appear one of your volcanoes erupts quite frequently. Yet, you seem to brush it off. Well, let's see how you deal with something that's a mere fraction of that heat." At once, the bucket dropped onto Emil's head. At that point, he realized it wasn't water in it.

"Wh..." He didn't have time to react before he heard a sound, like a match striking. About a second after the sound, the Icelandic man felt an enormous heat overcome him.

Emil's screams were hellish, and pained. There was no water to jump into, and the air was far too dry. He could do nothing but run like a beheaded chicken. At least, he did, until he was nothing but a pile of ash.

The intercom chuckled, having heard it all, then shut off.

...

A coffeemaker? Really? Lukas was not amused. He could shotgun at least three cups of the stuff in a day. He was that used to it. He reached for a cup on the table, when he stopped. He didn't really get why he was drawn to it.

"Go ahead, Lukas," he heard someone say to him. "Have a cup. I brewed it myself." The Norwegian scowled.

"I don't think I am supposed to take things from strangers, especially ones I can't see." The voice persisted.

"Why, Lukas! How wounding! I went to all the trouble to make it for you. Won't you at least take a sip?" Lukas shrugged. Maybe if he did, perhaps whoever was talking to him would get off his back. He took a cup and poured it full of coffee. Cautiously, and after blowing on it, he took a sip.

Never in all his existence had he tasted something so delicious! He drank more, soon emptying the cup. He couldn't help himself, so he poured another.

"I would be careful, now. I hear too much caffeine is lethal." The voice cautioned Lukas. Again, Lukas shrugged, and kept drinking. At some point, the coffee pot was emptied completely. Lukas looked at it in frustration.

He didn't notice the needle come from above, jamming into his head. As if it were pushed by an invisible hand, Lukas felt something injected into his system. He only felt the substance course through his veins for a short time. And then, he felt his heart burst.

"I warned you, Lukas!" The Norwegian's lifeless body collapsed to the floor. Besides the occasional postmortem twitch, he was pretty much done.

...

Tino couldn't believe what he had just witnessed! All four of his fellow Nordics...dead? He wanted it to be a dream, nothing more than an extreme hallucination. But he saw it. He saw all of them perish. Frozen with shock, he jumped when he heard the door open.

"Wasn't that fun to watch? And to think, you had a front-row seat. How lucky!" Tino looked over to see a cloaked and hooded figure. The eyes were obscured, but a maniacal grin was all too visible.

"Who are you? Why did you do all this? What did we do you to deserve this to happen to us?" Tino frantically cried out, confused and upset. The grin on the person's face faded, replaced by a grim expression.

"Well, I wonder what, Tino! Yes, I wonder what could possibly have warranted this punishment for you all..."The sarcasm was practically soaking from his words as he raised his hands.

"This punishment...from me!" The last two words were hissed out, as Eduard pulled down his hood to reveal himself.

"Eduard?! But why...?" Eduard approached him, with painfully slow steps. He almost seemed to be swaying.

"Well, Tino, you know for the longest time, the Nordics and I have had a...complicated history. I've been so involved with all of you. Well, personally, I don't mind if you considered me a Nordic or not, but it's nice to be included, you know?"

"Um..." Eduard held up a hand, showing he didn't want to be interrupted.

"But of course, all of you had to pick on me, play pranks on me, get my hopes up...I may have expected it from the others, believe it or not, but from you? I thought you were my best friend, Tino. And yet you always chose them over me."

The Finn wanted to run from the Estonian at this point, but there was nowhere he could run. Everyone was dead, and his dear friend Eduard was right here in front of him, apparently not right in the head.

"Wasn't I good enough? Was I so clingy and needy that you didn't want to spend time with me? We had such a lovely history together, and you'd throw it all away to be with them? Well, Tino..." Eduard was now right in front of him, right in his face.

"You're not a very good friend, are you?" He said this while sneering. He reached behind him, pulling out a butcher knife. The Estonian's breathing got deeper.

"Tell me, 'my friend', what do you want to do? Live in silence and fear, over what I can do to you," he rubbed the flat side of his knife over Tino's cheek. The Finn shuddered, the cool metal unnerving him.

"Or, join your precious Nordics in whichever eternity you'll all end up?" Tino gulped, trembling. Eduard leaned in, whispering into his ear, singing in a sickly sweet tone.

"And I know, I know it's not your time, but bye bye..." The younger of the two stopped, pulling off his cloak, then tearing his shirt off. His grin grew in size, and seemed to become more sinister.

"And a word to the wise, when the fire dies, you think it's over but it's just begun..." Tino felt that knife begin to cut into his flesh. Eduard's breath became deeper, with a few giggles cut in.

"But baby, don't cry! You had my heart, at least for the most part..." Any pleas and begging to stop did nothing for Eduard. He simply kept cutting into him, and before he knew it, Tino's arms were gone.

"'Cause everybody's gotta die, sometime..." The Estonian began smearing his former friend's blood all over his chest. The look in his eyes became more deranged. His chest heaved in laughter.

"We fell apart, let's make a new start. Cause everybody's gotta die sometime..." Tino's eyesight was starting to go black. His consciousness was slipping. He could barely make out Eduard taking a bite out of his severed arm.

"But baby...Don't cry..." He then covered his face in the vital red liquid. His speech at this point became nothing more than cackling laughter. In a moment of what might have been mercy, he slashed Tino's throat. He then stepped back and admired his handiwork.

"Look at you. You could defeat a Russian army so many times bigger than you back then." He raised his knife to point at him. "And now you sit here, armless and bleeding, destroyed by a man who once cowered under said Russian's rule! You're pathetic, Tino. Absolutely pathetic." He approached him again, and scoffed.

"You little pussy. You know what, forget that choice I gave you earlier. You can join your beloved Nordic buddies...in Hell!" Eduard plunged his knife into Tino's chest, ending the Finn's life once and for all.

Eduard walked away. He was quite a sight, half-naked and covered in Finnish blood. The dismembered corpse in front of him was the source of that blood.

He grabbed his cloak, and redressed. He then went outside and grabbed what he had to finish up.

The look of the detonator. So small, and yet had the potential to destroy multitudes of people. After walking a fair and safe distance away, Eduard pressed the button.

Hearing the sound of the explosion was music to his ears. He could feel it behind him, destroying so much evidence, hiding so much of what had happened that night.

There would be an uproar at the next world meeting, but for now Eduard didn't care.

...

Stockholm.

Copenhagen.

Reykjavik.

Oslo.

Helsinki.

As if by magic, all five capitals had combusted spontaneously. The flames engulfed the houses, the people, everything. The sound of the fires, the screams of pain and death, all were ringing clear in the air.

From a high place, Eduard watched them burn. The four closest capitals were burning bright with destruction. Reykjavik wasn't as visible, but it was there nonetheless. He watched them, for a good long while. After being satisfied at what happened from his actions, he turned to go.

He knew he probably could have done something else. He could have tried reporting them, saying what they were doing. Of course, then they would just start up again. This way was much more permanent.

Eduard had a feeling that he could get in extreme trouble for this. He figured, though, he would go into hiding. He would give an excuse to his fellow Baltics why he had to go incognito. After all, it wasn't like five new Nordics could never be chosen to take over.

For now, though, he was satisfied. He had his vengeance. The Nordics would never pick on him or play pranks on him again. He was sure this would more than make up for everything they did to him for the past few centuries.

He covered his face, to try to protect himself from any wind that may blow by. He was going to have to take a bath when he got home. No sense in frightening the others, so he'd have to sneak into the bathroom.

But he would cross that bridge when he came to it. Now, though? He silently gloated about his victory over the once great Nordics. He smiled to himself, quite pleased with himself.

Yes. Revenge was sweet.

Quite sweet, indeed.

So, um...whether by the content, or the bad writing, or the fact that I would ever even write this, or anything about this whole thing...hope you can sleep tonight?

-Emerald-Shadow-Knight