Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

The next chapter has finally arrived! I'm terribly sorry for making you all wait, but school has really been eating up most of my time. So, I made this chapter longer than the usual snippets to thank you for your patience.

"No trait is more justified than revenge in the right time and place." –Meir Kahane

It was a riveting speech, Alfred had decided as he watched the audience from his podium on the high steps of the Anemone Edifice. The crowd easily passed into the tens of thousands, all cheering and screaming his name in ecstasy. And why wouldn't they? He had stabilized their economy, strengthened their military, and took the country out of unnecessary wars and alliances. He had done everything his American predecessors couldn't.

See, all we had to do was start fresh, he remembered thinking to himself. They love me.

But he was deluding himself. That sudden searing pain that erupted on his head as his neck was snapped back forcibly shot him out of those illusions. It took all his strength to pull himself together, to reach for the microphone and make a smirk crawl onto his face, as if nothing happened, that a simple bullet to the face wasn't enough to stop Alfred F. Jones, absolute leader of Usona. It took all his strength to keep his voice from shaking, to make it sound cool and calm and powerful. That was important; he kept his crowd from going crazy as they listened to him squeeze out that sentence, that single sentence about skeletons in the closet. They were quiet, deathly quiet, their wide eyes stuck on him.

Then the second bullet hit, and Alfred let go.

Alfred had known something like this would've happened sooner or later; it was a risk of being in a position he held. He stared at the gray cement ceiling of the hidden bunker he'd been taken to, trying to figure out his conflicting emotions. Anger, he was supposed to have plenty of that right now, but all Alfred could find was a strange mixture of admiration and insult. This fucker had real balls to do something like this, but they could've done something a bit more creative. Being shot at was so common in this day and age, Alfred felt that he should've received a bit more action, at least. But as he shifted his head to a more comfortable position, his wounds beat down on his skull, screaming in red rage.

I'm lucky that I can still even think right now. The hell am I thinking, wanting to get blown up? But he was giddy, feeling bubbles of excitement underneath the pain. He had an enemy. Someone was out to kill him. Alfred didn't have to focus on the boring affairs of politics and paperwork, not have figures shoved at his face every waking moment. Those things could wait; Usona was already considerably successful in a year compared to the shit America went through for the better part of two decades. Now the fun began. Now he could have his adrenaline rush, could feel that prickly sensation of unease, finally have the delicious tingle of having his senses heightened in alarm.

When you have someone out to assassinate you, Alfred reflected almost warmly, you know you're a success in something. He let himself fall into a dreamless sleep.

Although the conference room was air-conditioned, Matthew pulled at his collar, feeling a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck, giving him a hot chill. Only a handful of nations had arrived at his call, and Matthew was sure that even fewer would agree to help him and Kiku. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him as he tried to steady his shaking nerves.

He surveyed the room, taking note of who attended, and hoped that they felt the same depth of passion about Alfred as he and Kiku did. Switzerland, Liechtenstein, Germany, Italy, Britain, France, and even Austria had showed up. Matthew glanced over at Kiku, who seemed as stiff and impassive as ever. Only when Kiku looked back to him did Matthew see the anxiety and fear in his eyes.

Taking one last breath to calm himself, Matthew stood up, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Um…I, hello…" He began quietly, embarrassed at his stuttering. God, all he had to do was speak in front of a crowd that didn't even number ten people, and he couldn't even do that for his brother. He swallowed and got straight to the point, straining to make his voice audible. "I'm not sure if you're all aware of this, but just recently Alfred Jones, representative of Usona, was almost assa…" he gulped, seeing the image of blood flying over and over in his mind's eye, "…almost assassinated."

He didn't know what he'd expected; maybe gasps of surprise, or at least pained faces. But everyone remained quiet and impassive, except for Switzerland's little sister, who was biting her lip uncertainly. Germany looked around stoically, then cleared his throat. "Matthew, we knew about this the day it happened." He stated quietly, his accent making his tone seem a bit more gruff than he intended. "We all do."

"So it was worldwide? That address to his nation…it wasn't just for Usona, it was really…really worldwide?" Matthew licked his lips nervously, though his tongue felt dry. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room, and it stretched until he realized that Alfred's speech was not worldwide, that everyone was keeping tabs on him and that still, with everything going on, they refused to admit that they worried for him too.

Matthew blinked, and suddenly everything fell into place. He left his place from the podium and walked to the conference table, slamming his paperwork down and staring each nation dead in the eye. They fidgeted, and he saw that they were obviously taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor. "Here's what we're going to do."

More than a month had passed since Alfred's attempted assassination, and Alfred was determined to keep that first attempt the last. He looked himself over once, twice, three times until he was satisfied with the end result of his work. His eye caught upon his scar, and his rubbed his fingers over it fondly.

"U-uh, what are you d-doing?" Alfred's reflection stuttered, staring at his hand as if it was made of poison. Alfred lowered his gaze, meeting sky blue eyes so much like his own, masking his emotions so his face was a deep, listless stare. The other man held it for a few seconds, and then hastily averted his eyes downwards. Alfred smirked in triumph.

"You listen to me. You listen closely, and you listen carefully." Alfred's lookalike darted his gaze around frantically.

"I-I didn't ask for any of this man, I j-just wanna-"

Alfred backhanded him across the face hard. The other man stumbled back, bringing a hand to his reddened cheek, whimpering when he saw blood dribble out his mouth, which looked almost black in the dim light. "Get up, you useless bastard, you'll get the shirt dirty." Alfred yanked him up by the hair and wiped a handkerchief across the man's face tenderly. "Now, what's your name?" He asked softly.

"J-Jeremy. Jeremy Arno-" Alfred backhanded him again, yanked him up and patted the blood off Jeremy's face gently.

"What's your name?"

Jeremy looked at him, eyes filled with confusion and hurt. "A-Alfred Jones."

"Good boy. Where are you from?" Jeremy stayed quiet, carefully edging away from Alfred. Alfred pulled him back forcefully, shoving him against the wall. "Where are you from?"

"M-Muh-Marfa." Jeremy sniffed, looking up at Alfred with mucus running out of his nose. "I didn't do anything, I swear. I-I'll swear on the Bible if you want me to! I'll cross m-my heart and hope to die, whatever you want! Ju-just tell me why I'm in here, please!"

Alfred looked down at his doppelganger, disgusted. This was the man who was to be his clone, his decoy, his assassin's target. How in the world would this lowlife pass as Alfred F. Jones, leader of Usona? "You haven't figured it out? The answer is standing right in front of you."

"W-What?" Jeremy glanced at Alfred with red eyes, and they widened as the realization dawned upon him. "No, no, NO!" He bolted towards the cinderblock door and tried barging through it futilely. Alfred watched him ram himself over and over into the door with a bored expression. Why does he keep trying when the only way out is through me? Alfred had to admire the man's persistence, though; but the amusement of watching Jeremy hurl himself at the door over and over soon dissipated. He pulled out his phone and dialed one number.

"I can't believe this!" Matthew knuckled his fingers in his hair in anger and betrayal. "How could they just step out like that? 'Oh, we care about Alfred, but we care about our reputations more,'?! Why the hell did they even come, then?" He let himself slump onto the table.

Kiku just looked on.

"And it's not like what I was proposing was outrageous! All I asked them to do was focus their attention on that damn new country of Alfred's. God knows how much the world needs the U.S., especially when it comes to money. Do you know how much Alfred invested in Austria's tech industry these past few decades? And that stuck-up bitch won't even consider the huge problem Alfred is in!" Matthew let out a scream of frustration. "Not even maple could calm me down right now!"

Kiku just looked on.

"It wasn't an invasion strategy, it wasn't even a plan of attack! All it was was a stakeout mission! Germany and Switzerland would've been a huge help in that, right? They're always preaching that crap, anyways. 'Know your enemy,' they say," Matthew mimicked the Europeans sarcastically; 'know your enemy.'" Yea? Well, know this!" He grabbed his crotch and shook it angrily.

Kiku just looked on.

"Why aren't you saying anything? How are you just taking this bullshit?"

Kiku was silent, and then turned his gaze to the rabid Canadian. "Because things like this have happened before. This is not the first time this has happened, and it will not be the last." He said quietly, making sure to keep his voice neutral.

"I know that, Kiku. But we can't just let Alfred drown! We have to save him from himself! He doesn't have anyone, and if we don't do it, who will?" Matthew asked frantically, almost pleading Kiku to reply with a positive answer.

But Kiku just stared at the wall, a torrent of memories raining down on him. "We cannot do anything to help him, Matthew-san. Unless you are willing to go to war, we cannot do anything."

Matthew gaped at him, stunned into silence. "I-I…" He focused his gaze on the floor. Kiku glanced at him sympathetically, wishing he could comfort him. But he had his share of wrenching heartbreak and unbearable pain, and Kiku knew that it would only be at great cost that Alfred would be stopped, especially when it was clear that Alfred had an endless reservoir of zeal and ambition. Just like I was. Matthew mumbled something under his breath, and Kiku turned to him.

"I am sorry, what were you saying?"

The Canadian twin stared Kiku dead in the eye, fists clenched, hair ruffled, and muttered in a frighteningly low voice, "Alfred went to war when you were in your power craze. You should've killed yourself that time if you're not going to do the same for him." And he stalked out of the room, carefully closing the door behind him.

And to Kiku, that quiet click of the lock made his blood run colder than if Matthew had slammed the door shut.

"Will you comply with us now?"

Jeremy slouched on the metal chair in defeat, only to be held up by his restraints.

Alfred nodded slightly. "Good. I believe Mr. Jones is ready to be administered the injection as of this moment." Alfred straightened and snapped his fingers, and instantly, two men clothed in sterile white lab suits appeared, one of them holding a small black case. Alfred stepped back, letting them do their work.

But Jeremy perked slightly at Alfred's statement. "In-injection?" He tried writhing out of the chair, but he was tightly bonded to it. That only made him jerk more, receiving cuts and bruises as his reward. "You can't do this! I have rights!"

Alfred had to laugh at that. "You want to know what that is?" One of the men held up the needle, as if to prove his point. Alfred bent down to Jeremy's eye level, smirking. "That is to make sure you follow all of my orders. You slip or fuck anything up, if you even make eye contact with someone I didn't say you could, that stuff in that needle will make sure that you never even existed." Jeremy eyed the needle and let out a small sob. "But if you don't fuck things up and do everything you're supposed to, you can be sure that you'll be greatly rewarded." Alfred patted Jeremy's shoulder, taking satisfaction from the obvious flinch he received.

Alfred relished Jeremy's screams as he left the room.