Japan remained composed, despite the tumult of thoughts inside his mind. Silence and a steady head were the only strength he had against this new, unexplainable threat. He couldn't allow himself to show weakness in any shape or form.

America lay slumped against the wall where he had been dragged, his figure limp and face pale: a grave contrast to his usual spirited self. Japan could only hope that he wasn't…

…That he would be alright.

Light was cut off with a clang of heavy metal, accompanied by slowly receding footsteps. As the darkness enveloped him, Japan felt a growing sense of shame. It was his own weakness that had caused him to be trapped in this situation, his own blindness that had caused America to be harmed. He should have been a more honorable ally.

"J...Japan?" A soft voice came at him through the dimness. Japan turned the best he could, his eyes adjusting to the dark to reveal the outline of a familiar blonde head.

"Canada-san?" Japan took in the disheveled appearance of his fellow country, the skewed angle of his glasses. From his awkward position, Japan guessed that his arms were bound as well. "Are you alright?" He asked in concern.

"Yeah... I guess so..." His voice was tired and scared. Suddenly he straightened, eyes widening as he caught sight of his brother. "America! I-is he okay? What happened to him?"

Japan's gaze turned to the unconscious figure. "I believe that he will be fine. He was drugged. Or poisoned. But he is a nation after all..." His focus lingered before returning to Canada.

"How long have you been here alone, Canada-san?"

"Not alone, exactly..." With his hands tied, the country couldn't point, but Japan followed his eyes across the room to the shadow of another figure.

"England!" Japan exclaimed. The real one...

He was unconscious: strung up with chains and leaning painfully against a wall. Dried blood and a dark bruise beneath one eye showed shockingly against the unnatural paleness of his face.

"He's been like that ever since I woke up here..." Canada's voice grew even weaker. "They must have done something terrible to him."

They.

There was a moment of silence. "Canada-san!"

The nation looked up.

"If I may ask, how much do you remember about how you came to be here?"

He sat back against the wall as if straining to remember. "It was the night before the meeting... I heard a noise in the kitchen. When I went to see what it was, there was someone else in my house-someone who looked just like me! And then I woke up here. At first I thought I had imagined it, but..." he trailed off with a glance towards America.

"So you have seen your double." Japan reflected on this new information. "America and I were also ambushed by such people-one identical to England, and one with a face identical to my own."

"What about the others? They know about this, right?"

Japan shook his head. "No, I don't believe so. But we can only assume that there must be more of these duplicates, whoever or whatever they might be. So by this time... perhaps the others have encountered them as well."

"So everyone else is in danger, too... and they may not even know!"

Japan turned to him suddenly. "Even if we are trapped in this place, we can at least try our best to understand what is happening. It is all we can do. We have to trust that the others will not repeat our mistakes."

"I suppose you're right..." Canada sighed.

Japan thought for a moment. "I don't fully understand what is at work here, but I believe I have a clue as to how it began."

"What do you mean?"

"England-san was the first, as you say... And our enemy has decided to make their headquarters in his home... We can only assume that he must know more about their origins than us."

"Well...I can't...say you're right there..."

The two countries started at the new voice, heads whipping around to find its source. Across from them, a pair of emerald-green eyes glowed dimly.

.

...

.

This is hopeless.

You'll never find him.

He's probably dead already.

"NEIN!"

The word slipped from his mouth and into the open air, proclaiming his defiance as Germany tore back limb after limb from his path.

A stray branch whipped backwards and across his cheek. Damn these Canadian forests! The nation's breath was beginning to run short. How many hours had it been since he had begun his search? There was no way to tell. But he would search as long as it took.

With a grunt and another curse, Germany came to a halt after driving his foot hard up against a rogue tree root. He rested his arm for a moment up against a trunk, labored breaths disappearing into the night air as he brushed his sleeve over his forehead. A few strands of hair hung loosely over his eyes. In weary annoyance, he swept them back. It was then that a soft yellow glow caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Immediately, he turned. A distant light showed faintly through the trees. His pulse quickened.

Then he checked himself. Caution and tactics were his only hope at this point. He couldn't afford to throw them away under any circumstances.

Germany crept closer towards the source, aware of the danger he was undoubtedly approaching. Soon he was near enough to see a break in the trees. And in the center... the rough, dark outline of a sedan.

The warm purr of a motor told him it was running. He had to get closer.

Germany dropped to the forest floor, feeling cautiously for dead leaves and dry branches as he closed in, concealed by undergrowth. One small noise could expose him: the snapping of a twig, the crunching of a leaf…. But this is the sort of situation all those years of training and warfare had prepared him for.

Now he could fully make out the form of the car through the blazing headlights. It was low and sleek, with a coat of dark paint. The interior lights were out, but as far as he could tell, the vehicle was empty. An abandoned car, sitting in a forest, still running…. He paused, listening for voices, footsteps, anything to identify a human presence.

Nothing but night noises and the hum of the engine.

The hope that had been nagging at his mind now threatened to overwhelm his trained instincts. The car. Was it empty? Or maybe…

He didn't dare call Italy's name. Whoever had attacked him obviously had accomplices, and no one leaves a car abandoned and running in the woods.

He crouched there, in the undergrowth, for what seemed to be an eternity.

Still there was no sign of his enemy. Germany assessed the situation. If Italy was inside the sedan... Would they have left him unguarded? The chances seemed slim. Slim... but worth acting on?

He reached into the pocket of his coat, his fingers finding comfort from the second pistol concealed within. The chaos of the situation earlier had prevented him from using it. But this time, he would be prepared...

Dummkopf... he cursed himself mentally. He knew this decision was risky, but he had no choice. It was now of never. Sliding the gun out of his coat with one fluid, subtle motion, Germany raised himself slowly to his feet.

A light snapping sound broke through the background hum of the laboring engine.

Immediately, Germany tensed. The pounding of his own heart sounded in his ears. Could he have been seen? No. He was positive that the shadows concealed him. Even so, standing frozen in such a vulnerable position put his nerves on a terrifying edge.

He internally cursed his judgement. He hadn't been alone in these woods after all.

All he could do was remain motionless, every muscle in his body taut as his eyes roved the clearing, searching for the source of the noise. The engine continued to hum. Everything seemed to have gone back to the quiet stillness of before.

Something snapped again. Closer, this time. Too close.

The game of hide-and-seek was over. Germany whipped around, pistol extended and a tense finger on the trigger.

Something flashed dully in the undergrowth, illuminated by the headlights for a fraction of a second. Germany clenched his teeth. They had seen him.

"Who are you?" He demanded, eyes narrowing.

As if in reply, an arm wrapped itself around his neck from behind.

Germany knew what the gleam of metal meant-the cold, prickling bite beneath his jaw.

"Drop the gun."

He stiffened as the voice slithered into his ear. His fingers tightened, and then released the security of his weapon to the mercy of the ground below. It thudded unpleasantly.

The blade pressed harder against his skin.

"Now walk forward. Towards the car."

Germany grimaced in the brightness of the headlights as he begrudgingly put his foot forward. Facing directly into the high beams as he was being forced to do, the light left him nearly blind and completely discoordinated. Then again... The wheels began to turn as he took another step. This meant that his assailant, who was facing the same direction, was also under the same influence. If he did something unexpected now...

Germany began the slow movement of his foot, then with reflexive speed clamped his hands around his enemy's arm, wrenching it to the left. The blade left his throat, momentum shifting as he crouched and swung the figure forwards and over his shoulder, sending him with a crash into the bushes.

He straightened, breathing heavily, but too soon. Something flashed beside him, slashing through the side of his coat like talons. The suddenness sent him off-balance. He threw himself to the side just as the shadowy figure lunged. Germany's shoulder collided with the forest floor just as his boot collided with the lunging shape. With a grunt, he landed painfully on something solid and hard among the decaying leaves.

The gun.

He felt swiftly for the weapon beneath him, fingers closing upon the barrel. Then the attacker was upon him.

Branches scraped and stung as they tumbled through the undergrowth. Germany's eyes were met with a blinding brightness as they broke free of the denseness of the forest and were suddenly in the clearing.

Germany pressed the gun against the head of the figure now beneath him, blinking in the harsh light. "I'll say it again! Who are you!" he roared, fist tightening its grip on its handful of his jacket.

As his eyes focused in on the face below, a realization began to take form.

"Germany..." The familiar voice faltered pitifully, the face beneath him cringing. Italy's eyes stared up at him with a pleading expression.

Germany froze. "I-I...ta..."

A sharp pain sprouted from his side. He looked down in horror.

Italy smiled and twisted the knife deeper.

AN: I'll just leave you with this...

Don't forget to review! Especially if you ever want to know what happens to your precious Germany... kolkolkol

(sucky rough-and-tumble fight scenes suck)