A/N: Whoa-ho it's been a long time since this was updated. Thanks to tsuchifuru for being an awesome beta. Not much else to say, other than...

Review if you liked it!

Hong Kong sped uneasily down one of the long hallways on the Victoria, cringing at the blood running down his back. His breath hitched with every step he took, and he stopped to flinch at creak of the water-worn wood. In his left hand was a bloodied knife, which his right hand kept reaching to.

When he reached his room, he locked the door and flung himself onto his bed. He placed the knife down and allowed his mind a chance to re-sensitize itself. He then dragged himself off his bed and crawled to his desk. He pulled out a fountain pen and the long roll of parchment that served as his travel journal. In rushed Chinese he jotted down:

"First kill today."

Hong Kong read the five words over and over again to himself. He re-rolled the parchment and stuffed it back into his desk.

He looked at the knife and the disgusting red liquid covering the blade. It made him absolutely sick. He walked to the small window by his bed and watched the waves crash against the side of the boat. He looked at the knife once more and threw it out of the window as hard as he could. Immediately, it was swallowed by the frothy brine.

Just as its victim had been.

It was morning and Hong Kong arrived in the galley just as England had told him to do. He was alone there, all except for a young man who mopped the floor.

On the end of the long counter that served as a table were a plate of scones and a cup of tea. There was a note under the plate and in delicate handwriting was Hong Kong's name and England's seal.

Hong Kong grabbed the plate and bit into one of the scones. As he sipped at the cold tea, he could feel the young man's eyes on him, although every time he tried to return the glance, the young man looked away.

Hong Kong swallowed. "What?"

The man looked at him for a moment and returned to mopping. "Nofing. It's just that we've all 'eard stories 'bout what happened to ya." The man spoke with a defined Cockney accent. He was most likely uneducated, which explained why he was mopping the floor for England.

Hong Kong stared at him incredulously. "Did you hear it from England?"

"No, sir. The Cap'n forbade us from speaking t'of it at all."

Hong Kong looked down at the plate and nodded. He would have to thank England for that later.

"'Ow'd you do it?"

"What?" Hong Kong asked.

"You dun't expect me to believe it, do you? That some'n would just up n' kill the wealthiest man in China an' not 'is kid? How'd you kill China?"

Hong Kong set his tea down and picked a butter knife off the counter. He crept over to the man and when he wasn't looking, drove the knife into his stomach.

"I didn't do it!" Hong Kong hissed. "But I'd do it like this!" He twisted the knife and felt the pressure applied as the knife collided with an organ. He pulled the knife out and drove it into another part of the man's body until he was on the ground, dead.

Hong Kong stood back and looked at the corpse on the floor, horrified with what he had just done.

He looked at the blood spilling all over the galley. Someone would definitely notice that. He kicked the bucket of mop water over and let it mask most of the blood. It would probably dry more evenly.

Next was the body. Hong Kong didn't want to touch it at all, but he figured it had to be done. He picked up the mop and used the handle to hoist the man into a somewhat kneeling position. He then slipped the man onto his back and shivered at the blood sinking through his shirt and running down his back.

He trudged to the hallway with the nearest window and prayed that no one would come out of their cabins. He got to a window and began to stuff the man out of it. His blood froze when the half-lidded eyes opened and stared at him.

He gasped, made haste in throwing the man out of the window, slammed it shut, and ran.

. . .

The Victoria landed in Sweden early the next morning. Hong Kong could hear the crew yelling at each other as they unloaded the ship, taking stock and seeing what needed to be replenished.

Hong Kong groggily got out of bed and got dressed. He hadn't slept at all that night. Between killing the sailor and the ordeal with China, he was constantly plagued by nightmares. As he slipped his goggles around his neck, he began to wonder if anyone noticed the sailor was gone at all.

Hong Kong walked onto the main deck of the ship to find England, amid the hustle and bustle of dismemberment.

"There you are, Hong Kong." England said. He walked over to the boy and placed his left index under his eyes, where dark circles had appeared. "You look dreadfully tired. Did you sleep alright?"

Hong Kong nodded. "Are we disembarking soon?"

England laughed and ruffled Hong Kong's hair. "That eager to get on solid ground?" he laughed. "You may leave anytime, but I should be at least half an hour more. Go and pack your bags if you really need something to do, boy."

Hong Kong nodded and followed a crew member onto the dock.

. . .

Just as promised, England arrived on the dock half an hour later. It was only a mile's journey from the harbor to the Sweden's house, but England insisted that he and Hong Kong wait for a car to take them.

"Do you know how dangerous the world has become, Hong Kong?" England asked as he slid into the passenger's seat of the cab. "In just three short days, half the world is in a war with someone. It's god-awful." He reached behind himself and placed a hand on Hong Kong's knee. "Just promise me you won't get yourself tied up in it."

"I promise." Hong Kong muttered.

they both knew keeping that promise would be impossible.

. . .

Sweden's house was well-hidden in the middle of a forest. Hong Kong could only imagine that it helped him and the rest of his family stay safe.

When England stepped out of the car he was nearly knocked over by a little boy with goggles who was shouting something about catching fireflies.

"Sealand!" Finland cried as he raced after the boy. Before England could let out a long list of obscenities, Finland caught his breath and said, "I am so sorry about him, England. He's just a little…riled up."

England raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "Honestly, every time I see him I'm just that much more ashamed."

Finland looked around for a happier topic. He then spotted Hong Kong, who was standing by the cab, trying not to be noticed.

"And you must be Hong Kong!" Finland said. "I'm so sorry about China, sweetheart; you're probably feeling awful, aren't you? Oh, did that bring up bad memories, I'm sorry, you look upset. You've probably heard a lot about China, and it's probably making you feel really sad." Hong Kong tried to answer, but before he could, Finland interrupted him. "If you want to wait inside while I get Sweden, I have some coffee brewed that you're more than welcome to."

"That sounds lovely." England said as calmly as he could. "Come, Hong Kong."

. . .

When they got inside, England and Hong Kong sat down on a large couch in the middle of the room. On the table was a dish of what looked like licorice. Hong Kong reached forward to grab some, but England slapped his hand away.

"That's salmiakki." England said in a hushed tone. "You don't want anything to do with that." Hong Kong nodded and put his hand back on his lap.

Within a few minutes, Sweden appeared in the room and England rose to greet him. They both spoke in whispers. Hong Kong heard his name and looked up to meet Sweden's harsh gaze.

The two older men left the room and Hong Kong was alone. Pictures were hung all around the room, almost painting the walls with smiling faces.

Suddenly, something caught Hong Kong's eye. On one of the shelves was a box labeled 'To China' in scribbles. Hong Kong opened the box, and before him was the most beautiful spyglasses he had ever seen in his life. It was polished gold with intricate designs of dragons and flowers on it.

Just as he held it up to eye, there was a crash from the second story of the house. Hong Kong quickly slipped the spyglass under his tailcoat. The noise stopped briefly, and Hong Kong went up to investigate.

As he made his way up the stairs, the people in the pictures stopped smiling and before long, the pictures of the Nordic family were replaced by newspaper articles. A few of the papers were singed, like someone had taken them from a fire.

Hong Kong's heart froze as he heard voices yelling at each other through one of the walls. He ducked into a nearby hall. He couldn't be seen, but he could certainly hear the argument.

"Do you have any idea what your stories are doing for you, Iceland? People are just looking for a reason to destroy you, and starting a war is a pretty damn valid reason if you ask me!" One of the voices shouted. It was hoarse, as if it had been yelling for hours.

"I'm not starting wars; I'm just telling people what's going on in the world!" This voice was softer and younger, almost hallow sounding.

"Iś, America thinks you attacked China. I'm already too busy keeping the Dutch Army off your doorstep, and I don't think even Denmark could keep the American army at bay!"

"Get out." The hallow voice calmly.

"What did you say to me?"

"Get out, Noregur"

Even Hong Kong recoiled as something glass smashed against the wall. All was silent except for a few hiccups of crying, so he crept out from his hiding place.

As he was sneaking past, one of the doors opened wide, and Hong Kong was nose to nose with a man who had blonde hair with a cross shaped pin messily keeping his bangs in order.

The man with the cross in his hair studied him, surprised, and scoffed. He pushed past Hong Kong and ran down the stairs, slamming every door he passed through.

Hong Kong looked through the door where all the yelling had come from. Inside was the white-haired boy from the pictures. He was wiping his eyes and nose with the back of his sleeve, but when he saw Hong Kong staring at him, he jumped back a little.

He walked to the desk in the corner of the room, opened a drawer and pulled out a small dagger. "Who are you." He said darkly.

Hong Kong's eyes widened as the boy started walking forward with the knife pointed straight at him. "I-I'm…"

"You're here to kill me, right? America sent you, didn't he?"

"No, I'm here with-"

"Then you're from Holland!" Iceland threw the dagger. Hong Kong ducked as the blade soared over his head and hit the wall.

"Hong Kong!" England cried from downstairs. "Get down here this instant!"

Hong Kong did just that. He ran from the room as quickly as he could. The white-haired boy followed him down though.

By the door were England, Sweden, Finland, the man from earlier, and another man dressed in a long trench coat.

"Hong, these are the Scandinavian countries. They are probably the most ready for whatever is about to happen-completely self-sufficient. They're our new allies, so you'll be seeing a lot of them."

Hong Kong sighed and looked back at the white-haired boy who looked just as disappointed.

"As you know, this is Sweden and Finland, and this here is Norway, and over there, I see you've met Iceland." England's brow furrowed. "Our resident, in-debt, pundit."

England turned to Sweden. "I once again thank you for the saber, and I expect you'll have the Victoria's new engine ready by next week?"

Sweden nodded and answered with a muffled "Y'ssir."

England looked at Hong Kong. "And I believe I have a surprise for you."

Outside, Hong Kong was just about to open the cab door when Iceland came darting after him.

"Hong Kong!" he yelled. He ran up to Hong Kong. "Sorry…things…went badly in there." He said, catching his breath.

"It's fine." Hong Kong said.

"Listen," said Iceland. He checked to make sure England wasn't looking. "You dropped this in my room." He spoke quietly as he handed Hong Kong the spyglass. "I won't tell if you don't."

. . .

Later that evening, as Hong Kong and England drove back to the harbor; Hong Kong pulled out the spyglass and admired how the bronze sparkled under the moonlight.