Chapter Nine: The Haunting

All was quiet. Rooms lined the hallway, all filled with slumbering Nations deep in the land of dreams. In example; Hungary was curled tightly against her pillow, smiling pleasantly as she dreamt of ages past. In another room, Romano snored unashamedly, stretched out with his stomach showing as visions of tomatoes danced. Across from him, Latvia twitched in his sleep, overtaken with perpetual trembling.

However, at the very end of the hallway, a certain American was sleeping the deepest of all. His dreams were only filled with superheroes, giant robots, and rescuing bushy-browed damsels in distress. Interrupted by the occasional flying hamburger, of course. It seemed fitting that the Nation's pajamas were patterned all over with his favorite food in bright, garish colors. Sleeping-cap skewed over messing blond hair, America sleeply mumbled nonsense words, drooling on his pillow in the process.

The Nation was completely unaware to the sudden drop in atmosphere and temperature as a literal army of invisible fairies poured into his small room. Unheard snickers floated about; tiny figures examined the various patriotic symbols scattered around the room, (the American flag pinned to the ceiling, comic books shoved in a corner, action figures, etc, etc...) but most of all, attention was focused on America himself. Invisible looks were exchanged; time for phase one.

Teetering on the edge of a messy hotel-style desk, a large stack of books inexplicably went crashing to the floor.

The Nation didn't even twitch. A strange angry buzz filled the air, like some strange invisible swarm of bees, but died away. The curtains were next to go in prompt turn. Ripped clear from the window, metal rings popped and burst with a horrible screeching sound.

America rolled over, smacking his lips and still oblivious.

An entire shelf of action figures promptly went flying from the force of an invisible hand. That was when the nation's eyes finally snapped open, as carnage rained down on his head in the form of disconnected arms and torsos.

Still half-asleep, he gaped at the litter of his precious action figures around him.

"Woah. Woah, not cool!" he finally squeaked out, narrowing his eyes in outrage. It turned to distress as he spotted a certain limited edition Captain America figurine- missing its head.

"Noooooo!" he wailed, snatching it up and whirling around in search of the missing part. "That was the lamest joke ever! Whoever the hell's in my room, you're paying me back!" America shook the figure into the darkness, expecting a fellow nation playing an evil trick. There was no reply.

The room was, in all appearances, still empty...

"Uh... dude?" America repeated, confused. "...Prussia, it's totally you, right...? Or maybe Denmark...?"

Silence.

Then the blankets and sheets around America's waist snapped back, ripped violently from the mattress itself and flying across the room. The nation shrieked, throwing himself violently back as the afore-mention blankets and sheets hit the wall and crumpled to the ground. But that wasn't all; a tower of suitcases in the corner burst open one by one, and various pieces of clothing blew over like a hurricane. Ripping a pair of Superman-patterned underwear from his face, America threw himself from the bed, scrambling on all fours.

Paper exploded from the desk like a mini-bomb, more books were shooting from shelves (one of which striking him full on the forehead, though it bounced off without much damage...) and a multitude of panicked thoughts running through his head.

"W-WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?" he finally yelped, cowering in a corner while chaos flew around him, and at the very first sound of his voice... everything stopped.

Silence. Trembling, America cautiously peeked through his arms in disbelief. Was that... it? His room was in disarray, papers and clothes scattered wantonly about. There was a deathly stillness in the air, one that wouldn't let America pass the whole thing off as a freak wind-machine accident, and slowly he rose to his feet, eyes darting back and forth...

Then, he froze.

There was movement on the far side of the room, where his curtains had been ripped off prior, but America didn't know that- all he currently knew and saw, was a large,

bulky figure rising slowly from the ground. The moonlight shining through the bare window revealed it to be a pale white, edges fluttering slightly, floating higher and higher in the air...

"G-g-g-g-g..."

America choked, eyes wide in terror as meaningless whimpers of fear died in his throat.

"G-G-GHOOOAAAAAAAAAAAST!"

Screaming, with all the power his lungs could afford, America tore from his place in the corner and directly out the door- and in his haste, plowed straight through it in a shower of splinters. As he went tearing down the hall, unheard snickers of hilarity floated in the air.

"EEEEENNNNNNNGLAAAAAAAAAAAAND!" Still screaming, doors slammed open as angry nations were rudely awakened. Curses followed the American all the way down the hall, but he didn't pay any mind. There was England's room number, up ahead, and since America obviously wasn't in possession of a card key, he simply knocked it off its hinges in a similar manner and, once inside, jumped with an impressive amount of leg power to cannon-ball directly on the large, queen-sized bed and the lump under the covers.

"S-Sacré Bleu..!"

"IGGGGYYY I WAS SO SCAAAARED ITWASJUSTFLOATINGTHEREITHuh?Heywait..."

There certainly was a nation coughing and spluttering beneath him, (having someone like America crash into your stomach would do that to you...) but the problem was...

"France?" Staring incredulously beneath him, America fumbled back to the edge of the bed, as France struggled to regain the air in his lungs.

He also happened to be entirely naked.

Not one to pass up an opportunity, France flashed one of his flawless grins.

"Why, Amerique, I had no idea you wished to share l'amour with me so badly," he chuckled, still weezing, "But if you insist..."

He stretched out seductively, winking.

"Oh hell no!" America yelped, backpedaling so fast he fell of the bed yet again. "What are you doing in Iggy's bed? Where is he?" he demanded, popping back up, "Wait, if you're here... Holy Crap, you guys weren't...!" Eyes widened as false conclusions were reached. "Oh, gross-"

"AMERICA, YOU BASTARD, would you SHUT THE HELL UP some of us are TRYING TO SLEEP!" A new voice came screeching from the splintered doorframe.

"He broke the doors?" Another ventured, soundly mildly horrified.

A small crowd of nations was huddled in the hall, peering in with both sleepy and annoyed expressions on their face. Romano stood front and center, puffing angrily from his outburst. Switzerland elbowed his way in, cocking a rifle in his hands.

"I don't know about everyone else, but I do not want to be pulled into your sick foreplay!" the neutral nation snarled, "So pull this kinky stuff on your own time!"

"Woah! Woah, nonono that's not what I was doing!" America protested, holding his hands up in innocence. He conspicuously backed away from the bed and a pouting France. "I was looking for Iggy, I didn't think this guy would be here!"

"Like, why'd you want him so bad, anyway?" Poland huffed, unamused of being woken from his beauty sleep. America's eyes grew wide as his original purpose was remembered, and several nations backed up in alarm as the American threw himself forward, managing to latch onto an unfortunate Austria.

"Y-You gotta help me!" he wailed, "In my room-there was a-it was-Oh My God, it-"

"Release me this instant, you ninny!" Austria protested. However, America's grip was like iron, and his attempts to pry him from his silk pajamas went unsuccessful. "Just...Just spit it out, already!"

"It...Was...A...GHOST!" America finally burst, and a dead silence fell over the hall.

Then everyone burst out laughing.

"Forget this crap. I'm going back to bed," Romano grumbled, shoving his way out of the crowd as several others keeled over in humor.

"I'm not kidding!" America was protesting, to no avail.

"...America..." Germany suddenly loomed over, face red and looking ready to have an aneurysm. "Are you saying you woke all of us up... and destroyed hotel property... all because you thought you saw a ghost?"

"Uh, yeah?" America said blankly, setting everyone off into new hysterics.

The American was confused when the crowd that had gathered began to disperse, losing interest in the whole thing.

"H-Hey! Don't leave, I'm telling the truth! Guuuuys, look at my room, just look—"

"Silence!" Germany abruptly cuffed him, grabbing the back of his shirt and dragging him down the hall. "It it late. Some of us actually like to sleep, rather than concoct foolish pranks like you!"

"C'mon Germany! I'm telling you, there was a ghost! D-Don't make me go back there! Where the heck was England anyway, have you seen him anywhere..."

"GODDAMMIT, YOU POTATO BASTARD!"

Groans rose as the nations ready to head back to bed were interrupted by a very loud, and very angry Romano. Charging down the hall, Germany was caught slightly off guard as the Italian jabbed an angry finger at his chest, cursing in his native language.

"You—! I TOLD you, I hate it when you seduce my brother! I don't want him sleeping in your smelly bed! Where the hell is Veneciano?" he roared, face flushed a dark red and waiting for an answer he thought would come.

Germany only stood there awkwardly with America hanging from his hand, staring at Romano as if he'd grown a second head.

"...What?"

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I WAS KICKED IN THE BACKSIDE BY A REVIEWER! ;_; I know I haven't updated for a bit, but one day a review arrived chastising me for leaving all of you waiting! So I checked the last time I updated and it was a while ago...

So thank you, anonymous reviewer, for prompting me to finish this chapter! (and I still updated late, for that matter...)

As an aside, I just want to reassure everyone that every story I start on FF net, I will finish. No excuse for procrastination, though...

I'll try to update more quickly and not in six months, but no promises ;_;