Something in England snapped, as he looked back and forth between the delirious Canada and dead France. He carefully set France down on the floor, then jumped up. He started to walk to Canada, but since his wrists were untied he had become ignorant of the rope around his ankles. He fell to the ground, causing a loud noise to invade the room.
When the noise was gone, Canada looked down at England, who was hysterical on the ground. Canada laughed loudly and said, "Oh! There you are. I didn't even know you were here until you made a loud enough…bang." He smirked at his own joke.
"Canada," cried England, "I think I've had just about enough!"
"Oh really? How do you think I feel?" Canada sighed, toying with his pistol. "Man, you look more pathetic now than I ever did." He pushed England onto his back with his foot, then looked him down from his red, tear-soaked face to the blood painted onto his clothes. "So very pathetic. You don't even look confidant that you'll survive at all."
"That all depends on what you'll do next."

Part II
"Who am I?"

Canada, now leaning against the steel wall, watched the ground carefully. America and England had given up trying to get out, so it seemed.
But England had his back turned to Canada. His hands slipped under the binding around his rope-burned ankles. He had been trying to loosen it, but it wasn't coming undone without noise. Each time a noise was made, Canada would laugh to himself and mumble on about how alone he was. Finally, after a long while of trying, England pulled the rope loose. He ripped it off of his ankles, standing up and facing Canada. "Canada!" he yelled. "It's time to hand over the gun."
Pushing himself off of the wall, Canada let out a high pitch of laughter. "Time to hand it over, eh?" He stood in front of England. England didn't move a muscle, though he couldn't breathe very well either. Shaking his head, Canada cocked the gun and raised it up. He gently pushed the barrel against England's forehead. "I don't think you've learned your lesson, though."
"Don't-"
"Who am I?" Canada tightened his lips. "Who are you?"
England bit back his reply, instead swallowing nervously.
"More importantly…" He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the trigger. "…who am I?" He waited to hear the loud thud on the ground before he opened his eyes again and looked at America.
With a lunge forward, which landed him onto his knees, America cried out, "E-England, not you too!"
But England was already dead.
"Who am I?" Canada pleaded. "Tell me. Tell me who I am so I can stop."
"Canada," America said, "we've been saying your name this whole time-"
"But this is what happens, America," growled Canada, "when people neglect you for so long. Wouldn't you agree?"
"This is what happens, America," growled Canada, "when people neglect you for so long. Wouldn't you agree?"
"C-Canada. Please…Please stop."
"Why should I? After all there's only two of us left."
"There should be four."
Dead silence took over. A sinister expression crept across Canada's face as he looked from Kumajiro to America. "America," he asked, "how would you like to be alone?"
America widened his eyes. As Canada came over to him and ripped away the ropes binding him, he said, "What do you…mean?"
Canada's suddenly maniacal laughter filled the room. "America, this is what I mean." Cocking his pistol once more, Canada pushed Kumajiro off of his leg. America stood, getting face-to-face with him. Canada closed his eyes and smiled ear-to-ear. He lifted the gun to his own head. "Goodbye, America."
To America's horror, he pulled the trigger.
He fell onto America, dropping the gun and going limp. America grabbed his shoulder. He picked the pistol up and shook Canada forcefully. When he finally realized that Canada was gone, he let him drop to the floor. He stared at the three people who meant the most to him: Canada, England, and France.
Kumajiro snuck over and jumped up onto America's leg. He climbed up to his shoulder. America clenched the gun in his hand, wide eyed and trembling. He, putting the gun between his clenched teeth, grabbed Canada by his shirt and dragged him next to France. He did the same for England. Noticing that the room reeked with death, he put the gun back into his hand and watched over the three. "Dude…Guys…Why did you do this, Canada?"
As hours seemed to pass by, America curled up on the floor next to them. He was clinging to England, letting his tears fall freely. His face was buried in England's cold neck. Kumajiro still stayed on America's shoulder. Suddenly, America said to himself, "'Who am I…' I never noticed Canada asking that…oh man…"
Kumajiro replied, "Who are you?"
"I'm…America. Don't ask me that, dude, come on."
"Who?"
"America. Didn't ya hear?"
Suddenly, with an exploding cry, the American man stood and grabbed the rather large pistol with his hand. He slammed it against the ground angrily, watching it break into several different pieces. He looked over the deceased Allies in front of him: Canada, France, and England. His cry suddenly faded. "I'm America. America. Don't ask that stupid question anymore. All right?"