A.N. Well... I wasn't going to do this, but... I did. Yes, both reviewers are correct - so, guest you also get a virtual cookie. And, yes, it does border on creepy. Welcome, they say, to the future. Some indistinctly distant point later... If the last part was short, this is tiny.

As for what happened here... I'm not sure. Canada was supposed to find them and then family fluffy stuff... Well, that didn't happen. I should add a warning now; blood and possible character death (that's up to you to decide, really). Rating up to T, now. This is more like horror...

Years passed, and the room continued to fill. Nations died, and nations rose - did you ever believe Sealand would be a super-power? No? Well, it happened. War was waged once more, pushing the world into chaos. More and more were dieing each day, even as puppet states were born.

It was no surprise when Britain did not appear at a meeting one day. Germany simply struck his name from the roll-call, and they continued as usual - after China had lost and disappeared, nobody was surprised by anyhting.

Of all the nations to go looking, it was Canada and America who arrived at his house first. America looked on the ground floor, whilst Canada went to the first - not only were they making sure their former caretaker was actually gone, not just dieing alone somewhere, but there were things worth keeping in the house - photographs and sentiments the American nations did not feel happy with a foreign government - especially an enemy - taking. It was foolish and stupid, but they did it anyway.

Canada slipped between the rooms, checking for Britain first. The government had collapsed and the royals been shipped to Australia, so he doubted the matter. It was a completely internal room that he eventually came to, something illegible scratched into the door. When he pushed, it appeared to have been locked - but the lock had rusted away.

In the room were shelves upon shelves of red boxes tied with white ribbons. Curious, Canada took the one numbered '312' from its place, and pulled on the ribbon. It crumbled in his touch. He removed the lid, and withdrew a doll made of pink cotton, embroidered with silk, decorated with gold wool and silver wire. He held it in one hand, as he pulled the paper from the box out with the other.

Over a ticket to Toronto was scribbled the words 'Happy birthday, Canada'.

Downstairs, a door opened. Canada stared at the doll, seeing likeness. A scream sounded; he looked at the other boxes all around him. Footsteps echoed on the stairs; he finally spotted the first hundred or so dolls in white shifts gazing forlorn and forgotten back at him. The door creaked open; he had stayed too long. Footsteps in the room; he turned to flee. A knife at his throat; eyes widened as bombs were released.

"Game," the voice tickled his ear.

"Set," Canada screamed for his brother as Montreal was lost.

"Match."

The doll fell limply to the ground, pale violet eyes staring into the soul of the enemy as blood splattered across its face.

"Please remember me; I don't want to die alone," it seemed to shout as the enemy turned, leaving the doll on the floor.