England banged on the door to America's house.

"America, Germany is furious! There was a meeting today and you're hosting, or did you forget again?" He waited for a moment, "Open this door right now! Not answering won't get you out of this meeting!" All that answered the English nation was silence. He tried the doorknob, and to his surprise, the door was unlocked. This worried England. He stepped cautiously into the house, "America?" His voice echoed throughout the huge house. England tried to reassure himself, "That git is probably stuffing himself with burgers in the kitchen...right?"

England went toward the kitchen hopefully, but it was empty. England then said to himself, "M-maybe America left? I'll just call him, and find out where he is." England took out his phone and dialed the number, and anxiously waited as it rang, "You better pick up your bloody phone..."

He jumped at the sound of a gun going off. He hit the deck as more shots rang out, "Bloody Hell!" England craned his neck as he tried to locate the source of the sound. Another shot rebounded off his ears as he finally found the origin. It was...America's phone. On the coffee table, ringing.

England climbed to his feet indignantly, "What kind of ring-tone is that?!" He was extremely annoyed now. "AMERICA YOU BLOODY GIT!" he roared, "GET YOUR ARSE OVER HERE!"

Again, nothing answered him. England calmed down and thought for a moment, "He never leaves without his phone. So he's either been kidnapped again, or he is really intent on missing this meeting." England determinedly decided to find him and get him to the world meeting no matter what. If England had to listen to Germany drone on about global warming, then he would not suffer alone dammit! He would drag everyone down with him!

England decided to go upstairs first, "Might as well start from the top."

A few hours later:

England was frustrated, "America's house is way to large for one man! He has more bedrooms than he does hamburger patties! And they obviously haven't been used in decades!"He opened another door and looked in to find a room with just paintings all over the walls and a large chair. "But remarkably well decorated for someone as seemingly immature as him." a more charitable part of him thought. England entered the adjoining room to find funk music posters all over the place, "But it is still nothing compared to my house."

England's phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, it was Germany. "Oh, dear. He's probably raving mad right now!" England said to nobody in particular. He answered the phone, "Hello?"

"Why hello England." Germany said dangerously quiet. England only heard him say something like that when he was about ready to kill someone. Germany continued, "Strangest thing...I cannot find our host America. I also seem to remember that I asked you to-GO GET HIM?!"

England almost dropped the phone at that last part. His voice had the barest hint of a quaver as he tried to compose himself and brought the phone back to his ear, "W-why yes! I'm looking for him right now actually. The only place I haven't checked is his basement."

"Well then, you should check it then. If you don't come back with America, I will not be happy." England heard a click as Germany hung up the phone. He stuffed the phone into his coat pocket, "Oh, when I find him..."

The basement. Where all nations keep their worst and most private secrets. There could be anything down there. There could be dungeons, laboratories, torture chambers, brothels...the list was endless.

England had always known America to generally have a natural sense of justice and a need to help people, wether they liked it or not. But only Russia knows what really happened during the cold war, and he won't talk about it. England's hand hovered over the door knob, "What if he is more dark and twisted than any of us even know?"

England steeled himself, "It's nothing compared to what Germany will have in store for me if I don't bring that git back." He opened the door, and peered into the darkness. He stepped over the thresh hold and looked for a light. He found one, and flipped the switch.

England would be lying if he said he wasn't a little disappointed. He was standing at the top of a set of metal stairs leading to a...bowling alley. It had multiple lanes, complete with a snack bar and electronic scoring systems that looked rather expensive.

England said to himself, "I would say this is state of the art...but can bowling be considered an art?" England pondered this philosophical question as he walked down the stairs. He looked around as he reached the bottom, "America, are you in here?" As usual, there was no answer. England surveyed the room, and realized some things that he hadn't noticed before.

The bowling pins were painted to look like all the nations America had ever been to war with. A particularly battered set were painted to look like England in the uniform he wore during the Revolutionary War. England scoffed, "Typical..."

There were two locked doors. One was under the stairs. It was made of metal and locked tightly shut. England looked at it in wonder, "What's in there? I'll ask America when I find him."

The other door, was made of a solid oak with a shiny brass doorknob on it. But the interesting thing about this one, was the heavenly music coming from behind it. It sounded rather long and mournful with a magnificent blend of other emotions. It was reminded England of a train, with smoke billowing from the chimney, and it's whistle blowing as it crossed a wide and endless plain.

England shook himself from his trance, "I'll bet America is in there, listening to a radio or watching TV as happy and carefree as can be!" he thought to himself. England tried the door and found it locked. This annoyed him greatly. He banged on the door with his fist, "America! Get off your lazy arse and open this bloody door!"

The music cut off suddenly, and England could hear something fall on the ground. There was a moment of silence, and the lock clicked. England opened the door, only to see a dark room. He walked in, "Hello?" The door slammed shut behind him. England turned around, searching for a light, "America, this isn't funny and your not scaring me. So cut it out."

There was a moment of tense silence. England walked a few feet and tripped over something. "Ouch! Bloody hell America. It's not working so just give up and turn on the light."

The light clicked on to reveal a vaguely disappointed American, "Aw c'mon Iggy! You're no fun!"

England stood up and dusted himself off, "Do you know who else is no fun? Germany, when he gets his hands on you."

America looked confused, "Why would Germany want to get his hands on me?"

England shook his head, "You honestly forgot didn't you? There was a meeting today. And you're supposed to be hosting."

America's eyes widened, "Oh shit, I totally forgot! I'm not too late, am I?"

"No worries America! You're only..." England pretended to check his watch, "...about four hours late."

America turned and banged his head on the concrete wall with a resounding THUD!

As America continued to abuse the wall, England looked around. It was sparsely decorated. There was an old chalkboard with notes written on it in some language England didn't understand, and a filing cabinet complete with a small desk and chair. The desk had what appeared to be old score cards on it, presumably for the bowling alley. There was a stool in the middle of the room, most likely what England had tripped over. England noticed something small and shiny next to his foot. He picked it up to take a closer look. He turned back to America, who had long stopped and was now watching him, "Care to explain this?"

America shrugged, "Bro, that's just my harp."

England looked at it, "Harps have strings," he said drily, "This is obviously not a harp."

America apparently found this funny, "HAHAHA, Yes it is! You could call it a harmonica if you prefer."

England looked through the blow holes, "A harmonica...oh yes! That thing that Germany gave to you a long time ago. He gave it to you saying that he had no use for it correct?"

America nodded, "Yeah! It became really popular in my country for a while!"

England gave it back to him, "Oh. I didn't know you could play any instruments."

America gave a small laugh, "Hahaha...I play a few of them..." He trailed off and gestured toward the door, "Okay, we're late enough as it is."

England looked at him, "What is this we? I showed up on time!"

America shrugged yet again, "Whatever man."

The two nations approached the building. England turned his head to face America, "Curiosity demands that I ask. What is behind that metal door?"

America stiffens. His posture straightens and his smile seems forced, for it doesn't reach his eyes, "Why do you need to know?"

England looks at the ground to avoid his gaze, "Like I said, just curious."

America stops England and clamps a hand onto his shoulder. He leans down to England's ear and whispers, "I'd suggest that you forget your curiosity and the metal door." His voice is uncharacteristically cold, his hand tightens on England's arm, "Some things should stay mysteries."

England voice quavers a bit, "A-alright."

America suddenly lets go of England's shoulder, and like a switch was flipped inside of him is back to his old self. The rest of the walk is silent. They reach the meeting room, and America opens the door. He looks at Germany, "Dude, you should see your face! It looks like a tomato! HAHAHA!"

England goes to his seat and thinks to himself, "Where did I go wrong with him?"

Well, all done. Although I might update it later...maybe. Until then, this can be considered complete.

This is not related to my other story.

Thanks for reading! Hope to see reviews! ^J^