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Chapter Text

A figure dressed in a sleek blue suit takes a seat at the near-empty conference table. Her face is painted in American colors, hiding the Oklahoma flag underneath. People with brushes and pads of foundation and blush flock to her, brushing her face and filling in any lacking spots with red, white, and blue. The color is off, but it is as close as the color pallets can manage. She smiles blandly for the camera. After all, she was only here for a paycheck. 

The cameraman looks at her before peering into the camera. He holds up a hand.

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"Good morning everybody," she recites alongside the teleprompter's script, "as you know, my colleagues in Estonia are watching the developing story surrounding the emergency meeting our great country had to attend."

Behind her, she could imagine his picture. Spiked up, heterochromatic hair, and a face shining with the replica of the flag hanging in the back of her newsroom, right behind the old teleprompter. A goofy smile and golden eyes peeking over the edge of a pair of dollar store sunglasses.

He was her hero. He was what she hoped to be since primary school.

"And according to new information, the former Soviet Union," she gets a sour taste in her mouth, "will also be attending this meeting along with the Federations of East Asia."

She continues to read the teleprompter, focusing on keeping her tone even and fast, not registering any of the words.

Chapter Text

Russia didn't expect the world meeting to go so sideways.

Personifications are going missing and being attacked with more and more frequency, and nobody knew what was going on. At first, the attacks were considered separate fights since the personifications who were being assaulted would recall fighting against a familiar face.

However, when nations start going missing and none of the attacking countries seemed to remember the arguments, panic spreads. Russia notices that even his father had grown anxious.

His father is someone with the neutral expression of a scowl. He is taller than Russia, though not by much, and he has a smaller build, though still intimidating. With an eye covered by an eyepatch and his face contorted in a look of disappointment, Russia finds his visible anxiety concerning.

Russia kicks his legs out, fatigue in his limbs.

'These chairs are too small. They constantly remind me of my height.'

He leans over onto the table, propping his head on his hand. He stands just over two meters tall, and his face is adorned with his flag. He looks down at his white fingers and blue palms. His eyes, like all other personifications he'd ever seen, are gold.

His face falls into a 'resting bitch face,' as Ukraine had deemed it.

"Russia!" UN calls, his face stern.

"What?" Russia asks, jumping in his seat.

"You will be returning with America to New York to help monitor the United States' activity. Ukraine will be doing the same with Canada."

"But what about my own country?"

"Your father and siblings will maintain it."

Russia turns to look at America, immediately noticing the other's face filled with relief.

America is the opposite of Russia in every sense of the word. Where Russia is quiet, America is loud. Where Russia is muscular, America is not. Where Russia can turn his paperwork in on time and properly filled out, America can't. America's paperwork is constantly late and covered in doodles.

Russia can't imagine trying to fill out any professional paperwork in crayon.

Russia towered over America when they happened to meet, and if Russia had to guess, America only stood about one and a half meters tall. Even still, America never seemed to care. Russia's nose wrinkles.

'How is he even a world power?' Russia thinks with a scowl, 'he is shaped like a stick.'

Russia shakes his head, tuning out the UN's words.

'Why do I have to help him?'

'He's incompetent,' his mind supplies, 'and he needs help to do anything.'

Suspicious, he turns to his father.

"Papa?"

"Yes?"

"Is this a good idea?"

His father pauses before answering.

"Yes. America is going to need extra help."

"Extra help with what? It's his country," Russia replies indignantly.

"There is more to his country than you know. Now be quiet, UN has other announcements."

Russia sits, quietly fuming at the prospect that America couldn't handle his own country. He half-listens to the remaining announcements. He catches America staring at him, so he glares back. America is quick to avert his gaze.

'What more was there to that idiot? And why does my father know?'

A few hours later, the meeting ends, and Russia is given a ticket to JFK.

The next day, he meets America at the airport, waiting to board. America is wearing a heavy coat, shivering. His hair is spiked up into what Russia assumes is supposed to be a mohawk. It's sloppy, and most of the hair is white, with red and blue streaks.

The light blue stars on America's hands do catch Russia's attention for a moment before he shakes his head.

'Of course, he has stars on his hands,' he reminds himself.

"Hi," America greets with an apprehensive grin.

Russia huffs, his arms folded across his chest. America laughs nervously before backing away a few steps.

When they finally board, Russia sits against the window, America sat next to him, and someone Russia didn't care to notice sits near the aisle. The air is stale and stifling. Russia pulls out his phone.

Unfortunately, Russia quickly grows bored with the games on his phone. He is still too annoyed at America to speak with him, so he resorts to staring out the window until he falls asleep.

America shakes him awake as the plane is preparing to land in New York.

Only half awake, Russia begrudgingly follows America through customs and to the baggage claim. He scowls as they navigate through the sea of people and rude TSA agents. After collecting his luggage, Russia follows America and stops next to him in the middle of the crowds.

America insists on waiting, but he doesn't explain why.

Russia opens his mouth to begin arguing only for America to jump up and exclaim, "there he is!" punctuating the statement with an enthusiastic wave.

A kid, no older than 18, waves back and begins swiftly walking over. His body and hair are dark blue, and his face has a clear flag image of a design that makes Russia a little dizzy looking at it. The kid walks with a limp, and he doesn't seem much taller than America. He also seems thin, and his face is round around the cheeks, but with a sharp chin.

'I had to wait here for some random kid?'

"America, who is that?" Russia asks through gritted teeth.

"Just hold on a second, Russ. You'll be introduced soon enough."

Though Russia wants to demand a better answer, he decides that making a scene won't make this go any faster. Then, Russia notices someone else with a different flag begin approaching America's friend.

They walk with a strange gait as if they were off-balanced, and their body and face are an obnoxious and sickly yellow. Their flag looks weird, but Russia can't place why.

America's friend spins around, looking startled. The kid asks something, his mannerisms nervous. The figure doesn't answer.

"That's weird. Jersey didn't say that he would be here," America remarks tensely.

Suddenly, the figure jumped on top of the boy, and they tumble to the ground. The kid shrieks in surprise.

"New York!" America yells, dropping his baggage at Russia's feet.

America rushes forward to help. Russia stands back, confused and frozen. America pulls the assailant off of the boy and throws it a few meters into the air. As it flies, its flag melts. The colors blend.

The second it lands, it scampers back towards America. America swings around and, with a strong kick, he launches it into a large, panicked crowd of shrieking people. America yanks the boy up by his arm, and the pair run over to Russia. America grabs his suitcase and urges Russia to follow them. Russia complies, sprinting to keep up.

They only stop running when they board a tram to the car park. Russia fumbles with his hands, barely keeping himself from pacing around. The smell of exhaust swirls in the air.

Even while his heart pounds, Russia can't help but notice the gold in the teen's eyes.

After a suspenseful ride, they finally arrive in the parking garage. They quickly make their way to a parked car, the reservation tag being made out to "Tony".

America shoves the suitcases into the truck, and Russia sits down in the front passenger seat. The teen is already buckled in the backseat when America hops in, starting the car.

'It smells like a new car.'

America rushes them out of the airport. Once they get onto the highway, they begin to calm down slightly, though America still drives a little wildly. The traffic rubs against Russia's frayed nerves, but he tries his best to ignore it.

After a few hours of quiet, Russia turns around to face the boy in the backseat. He is still a little annoyed with America's behavior, but he ultimately decides to be friendly with the kid. He turns around and notes the strangely familiar shade of gold to the teen's eyes.

"Hello, I am Russia," Russia offers.

"Hi, nice to meet you," the boy responds, his voice shaking slightly, "I'm New York."

"Like New York City?" Russia asks, his head tilting.

"More like New York State. Pops?"

"Yeah, Yorky?"

Russia spins to face America, confused.

"You mind explaining?"

"No problem, kiddo. So, Russia, you know how the countries and some states have personification?" America asks, waving his hand.

"Yes," Russia pushes, "and?"

"Yeah..." America mumbles, rubbing his neck, "my states have personification too. Most of them just kinda showed up after their state got a State government, and some others used to be nations."

"None of the other countries mentioned your states," Russia replies skeptically, "Why does my father know about them?"

"Cold War."

Russia waits a moment, but America doesn't elaborate.

There isn't much conversation after that. America turns on the radio and sings along to the songs playing. Around noon, they swap drivers.

Russia drives through the afternoon and into the early evening. He and America swap back and America drives the rest of the way to "The Big House," whatever that meant.

Russia is messing with the radio when America pulls onto a gravel driveway. After a few minutes of driving, America parks in front of a large house with several dozen cars already parked in front of it. As soon as the car stops completely, Russia gets out. New York grabs the suitcases, and America rushes Russia inside.

Chapter Text

The house smells unfamiliar, but nothing Russia would classify as unpleasant.

It smells like grass, wood, and something meaty in the oven. Something beeps in the kitchen and kids run through the house in a chaotic mess. One of them catches his attention. She stands at his height and smiles smugly.

Some of them freeze, staring at Russia with surprise and confusion. America pushes Russia inside.

As soon as the door closes, America cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, "Family meeting in the Living Room!"

Russia flinches. America grabs Russia's arm and yanks him forward and into a room with lofted ceilings and various seats around a rug in the center. 

There is a momentary silence before the floor shakes under Russia's feet. People of all ages rush in from unseen directions to crowd into a large room. One of the teens rolls in on a wheelchair and another puts on a prosthetic arm. Russia pulls his eyes away from them, trying his best not to stare. 

A sickly yellow catches his eye, and he examines the almost familiar flag. The teen sits next to New York, looking significantly shorter. His shoulders are wide and sharp, and his face is wider. A scar marks the state's upper lip, and his arms have scars and a red tattoo on his shoulder. His hair is swept forward to a point, light blue streaks painting the yellow.

Some of the teens squeeze onto couches and press into chairs, and others sit down on the rug. Russia finds himself standing awkwardly beside America until one of the states gives up a seat near the room's front. The teen stands, wearing comfortable clothes. His color is a strange green.

Once everyone is seated, America gets their attention with five loud claps, and the children give two claps in return and grow quiet.

"Alright," America begins loudly, waving at Russia, "first of all, this is Russia. He will be staying with us until further notice."

Russia suddenly finds himself under the scrutinous gaze of the teens. All of them have gold eyes much like his own, save the teen in the cowboy hat, who hosts a star for a pupil in one of his eyes. Then, quiet talking starts and shushing echoes through the group. After a few moments, the states settle back down again, turning back to America.

"Second, this house is on total lockdown until further notice."

Shocked expressions and exclamations rise from the crowd.

"Oh, hush! All of you!" America says, waving his finger, "I'll answer your questions at the end."

America stands upfront with his arms crossed, waiting for the kids to quiet down. They hush soon after.

"You're all staying here because something is attacking personifications, and some of them have already disappeared," America says sternly, "It's the same reason why all of you are here instead of back in your own states. Whatever it is, it mimics the appearance of someone you know and then attacks you. It happened to New York earlier today."

"Happened to me too," the state with a star for an eye interjects, "it looked like New Mexico, but it didn't say nothin' and jumped at me. I panicked, and I shot it. I don't think I hit it neither, but it disappeared right after I pulled the trigger."

America listens to the state's account with a furrowed brow before continuing, "Thank you, Texas. Does anyone else have anything relevant to add?"

No one speaks up, so America moves on.

"So far, we don't know what it is, why it's here, how it has been disappearing, or its motives. What we do know is that it does seem to be connected to the attacks and disappearances. As for the attacks, both New York and Texas were very fortunate that nothing else happened. The bunk-buddy system is back in place. We will also be sounding off at every meal. Are there any questions? Ohio?"

"Who is Russia's buddy?"

"I am. Yes, Tex?"

"Are we still allowed to go out to the field?"

"Yes, but on three conditions. One, regular field rules still apply. Two, you must report back to every meal. Three, you must stay with your buddy at all times. Yes, Virginia?"

"Are bunk-buddies goin' by Cold War rules?"

"Yes. Don't let your buddy out of your sight and report any weird behavior to me immediately. Yes?"

"Where is Russia going to sleep?"

"I'll be setting something up in my room later today."

"How long is this going to last? Am I ever going to go back to my state?"

"You'll be able to go back eventually, Utah. But right now, it is far too dangerous to be alone. Once we figure out what's going on and get it under control, everyone can go back home. Yes, Massachusetts?"

"Do you want me doing wards?"

"Yes. Do that before dinner, please,"

"Can you tell North Dakota to stop touching me?"

"I am not touching you, South Dakota!" A small voice rises above the ambient talking

"Both of you stop. Does anyone else have something relevant to add?"

"Are we still going out to get groceries?"

"No. The house should still be pretty well-stocked, but if we do need more food or supplies, it will be delivered here. Are there any other questions?"

No one indicates any other concerns.

"Alright. Meeting dismissed."

Russia watches as the states disperse in pairs, walking off into other parts of the house. Unsure of what else to do, Russia stands up and follows America into the kitchen, where some states begin preparing food.

Although Russia isn't sure what they are preparing, the smell of garlic is enticing nonetheless.

"America?"

"Yeah, Russ?"

"What is the 'Bunk-Buddy' system?"

"It's something I came up with during World War I, but it didn't mean much until the Cold War. It was to ease paranoia and keep an eye on all the kids at once. Essentially, all the kids sleep in assigned bunks, and whoever you share the bunk bed with is your buddy," America explains.

"No state can be without their buddy, and they are supposed to watch each other's back. I figured it was the best thing for right now since that thing can imitate faces. As long as they stay with their buddies, anyone seen alone will be suspicious."

As soon as America finishes speaking, someone yells from upstairs, "Dad!"

"Yeah?"

"We're missin' sheets!"

"Okay, I'll be right there!" America calls and turns to Russia, "It looks like this is a good time for you to get to know some of the states and learn your way around. Follow me."

Russia finds himself running all over the house on America's tail as they break up fights, search for misplaced bedding, and help settle the house down before dinner is prepared. Russia pays particular attention to trying to learn the names of the states and where things were.

The house's flooring is all hardwood, with rugs in most of the rooms. The first floor has the central area, a kitchen, a large dining room, a bathroom, and a large mudroom lined with shoe racks and jacket hooks.

The basement has a large storage closet, a large rec room, and a laundry room. The basement has no windows, but bright lights illuminate the room to show the two couches on multicolored rugs and the towering shelves and cluttered desks in the main room. The floor is covered in scattered board games and toys.

Russia spends most of his afternoon running from the basement up to the second and third floors, arms filled with extra blankets and pillows. After the final few runs, he stands on the first floor panting as America finishes pulling together the beds.

Eventually, his breathing calms, and he returns upstairs. Adding to his growing mental map, he continues looking around. The second and third floors were mostly bedrooms. All the bedrooms have a connected bathroom, a few bunk beds, a large, colorful rug in the center, a wooden shelf, and a linen closet. The second floor had four rooms, four bunk beds each, and the third floor had three bedrooms with three bunk beds each and America's room and office. The bunk beds themselves have 2 large drawers for storage under the bottom bunk.

Once the states' bedrooms are set up, Russia follows America back down to the main room and flops back onto one of the couches. America sits down beside him.

After a moment, America calls out to the states, "can one of you get laundry going?"

"Okay, Dad!" Missouri responds from above.

America sits back and sighs. After what felt like only a few moments, someone from the kitchen announces that dinner was ready. A stampede shakes the house as footsteps pound down the stairs, and a few faces poke out of the basement doorway. Russia gets in line with the states and fills his plate.

Once everyone is seated with a full plate in front of them, America asks for them to sound off, and the states call out their name when it's their turn. When Russia asks Arizona about the order, she explains that they go according to their ratification date, going from oldest to youngest with a few exceptions.

After eating as quickly as he could, he and America walk upstairs to America's office to attend UN's online meeting. As they ascend the stairs, Russia can hear Hawaii and the 13 organizing the states to help the cleanup effort and the states scrambling to get their responsibilities done.

Chapter Text

The noise from downstairs gets quieter as they climb the stairs. The smell of dinner still lingers in the air. Once they get into the office, America logs into the meeting, and Russia pulls an extra chair behind America's deck.

"Hi!" America chirps as Russia waves.

Soviet looks annoyed.

"Russia."

"Yes?"

"You were supposed to call me as soon as you arrived," his father scolds.

"Oh. I apologize. It got chaotic," Russia responds sheepishly, looking away.

His father sighs but didn't make any more remarks.

Then, UN begins the meeting. "Alright, before we begin, does anyone have any attacks or disappearances that must be discussed?"

America raises his hand.

"Yes, America?"

America clears his throat before speaking, "So, long story short, my states have personification. Anyways, Texas was attacked a week ago, and New York was attacked earlier today."

"They didn't disappear?" UN questions, trying to hide the shock in his eyes.

"No, they're okay, just a little shaken up," America replies with a sigh.

"Wait!" UK interjects, "why wasn't I ever informed about the states?!"

"Can we focus on the attacks?" Russia snaps.

He gets a relieved smile for his efforts. His heart flutters a little, but he ignores it.

America continues, "Anyhow, we saw something that was... scary, to say the least. See, this thing mimics faces. I don't think it can talk though. It also runs on all fours."

"Its whole body turned white after it hit the ground," Russia adds.

"Thank you for this new information," UN states, "does anyone else have anything to a-"

UN is interrupted as the door swings open. The door handle hits the wall hard enough to put a dent into the drywall.

"Dad!" A state yells from just outside the doorframe.

She looks very boyish, with muscular arms and broad shoulders. She seems around the same height as America. She has on jeans and boots and her hair wraps around her shoulder in a braid.

"Oklahoma! What's going on? We are in-"

"I know you're in a meeting, but this is important!"

America moves to stand, and Russia decides to follow suit.

"Where are you going!?" UK demands.

The only response he gets from the two is a glare from Russia.

"New York is with Jersey playing cards in the rec room, but he's also standing outside! We don't know what's going on!" Oklahoma shouts as a much taller state with slicked-back hair and a stamped blue flag scrambles in behind her.

"Shit! Oak, tell your siblings to go into lockdown," America shouts over his shoulder as he runs out, "come on!"

Russia rushes out of the room behind America. He could faintly hear UN try, in vain, to call them back to explain what was going on. As soon as Russia hits the first floor, America hands him a loaded shotgun from the mudroom's safe.

Russia stares at it for a second before running after America. He skids to a stop as America unlatches the exit. America slowly opens the door, gun in hand.

"Close it behind us and be ready to barricade it," America says, his voice low.

It sends a pleasant shiver down Russia's spine. Russia shakes his head, writing it off as fear. Even still, he has to squash the little voices that claim it's something else.

Once outside, Russia frantically scans his surroundings for movement.

The sound of rustling leaves grabs Russia's attention immediately. Russia's head pops up and he steadies the gun. America signals him to stand down. Russia slowly lowers the gun, eyes narrow.

Instead of a monster bursting from the trail, it's a small group of kids. All four look startled, Russia notes.

The teen with a cowboy hat runs up to them, his star-adorned eye shining.

"We were over there, and someone lookin' like Yorky came over, but he was alone. Then his flag started changin'. I ain't got my gun, so we came runnin' back. Pops, you gotta hurry! Bama and Sippi are still in the field!" he shouts.

"Go inside. Quickly," America demands before he runs down the trail that the four had come from.

Russia struggles to keep up, his height being the only reason he didn't lose sight of America. Russia gasps, stumbling over rocks and tree roots. America runs ahead, light on his feet. Russia can't help but admire how he clearly knows every pebble, like the back of his hand.

Russia shakes his head.

Suddenly, the narrow trail opens to a large clearing with grass and empty horse stables. The air holds both the scents of freshly cut grass and something dead. Russia's nose crinkles.

Turning around, Russia sees two of the states being cornered by something with an appearance reminiscent of America. He catches the eye of the one with the red 'X', and the pair of states make a run for it, trying desperately to reach America and Russia.

Unfortunately, they aren't so lucky. The creature lunges, grabbing the shorter of the two, snatching him away from the other. The dark blue state, with tightly coiled hair, shrieks in fear before almost pouncing at the thing.

America shoots a round into the air, startling the creature. Then, he rushes at it with a war cry. Russia runs forward and grabs the blue hair state, dragging him back to keep him out of danger.

"Let go of my kid!" America screams.

The creature turns to face America, and Russia takes a chance. The gun kicks back into his shoulder.

The shot embeds itself into the creature's side. It throws its head back with a blood-curdling shriek, dropping the state. It screeches again before lunging at America, only to snatch his gun. It disappears, leaving a black puddle behind.

"We need to go. Now!" America demands, leading the way back down the path.

All four of them take off in a dead sprint. Russia is the last to enter the trail.

Just before the road opens to the front of the house, the shorter of the states tumbles with a shout.

"'Bama!" The taller yells, stumbling to a stop.

Russia stops short, grabbing a nearby tree to keep from tumbling over them.

Gunshots ring out from the house.

Russia hops over the teens to stare past the trees. The monster stands in the middle of the clearing in front of the house. Russia jumps back from the slick, black goo that it spews.

It smells like old sewer water and rotting meat.

The taller teen hoists the shorter one off the ground and drags him back to the house. Russia runs behind them with America.

The monster stands in a pool of black goop, wearing a strange amalgamation of both Russia's and Alaska's flags. Then, it suddenly appears in front of Russia, forcing him to stop.

It throws its head back, revealing a mouth just under its chin. Russia is eye level with its glistening, jagged, yellow teeth. Its wriggling black tongue writhes behind them. The taste of decay emanates from it. Bile rises up Russia's throat.

Panicking, Russia pulls the trigger of the gun. The gunshot rings in the air. The thing shrieks and writhes. Its blood spatters all over Russia. The smell sticks to Russia's skin.

Someone grabs his wrist.

The next thing Russia knew, he is thrown inside. He lands on the mudroom floor with a loud thump. America slams the door shut and locks it. After all the states are accounted for, America pushes a bookshelf in front of the entrance.

The only opening that remained unblocked is manned by the state in the cowboy hat, who keeps his gun trained on the monstrosity outside.

It is only then that Russia realizes just how badly he's shaking.

Chapter Text

Russia sits, shaking on the ground, trying to calm his breathing.

Everything around him blurs as his head spun. He's left reeling trying to figure out what that thing was. As the pounding in his ears begins to fade, he registers the chaos around him. His eyes dart around the room.

'Do I run? Where do I go? I need to-'

Suddenly, someone hugs him.

"Hey. Calm down, Russ. It's okay," America soothes, rubbing Russia's back gently.

Russia clutches onto America like a lifeline, trying to copy America's breathing. The lingering smell of rot clings to him, but he decides to ignore it the best he can. Once his breathing calms, the fuzz in his head also begins to subside.

Russia begins to analyze his surroundings.

The state with the red 'X' is sitting on the couch with the tallest of the states examining his ankle, and a teen with stripped hair swept to one side stands nearby with a handful of ice in a piece of cloth. The star-eyed state stands at an open window, gun trained on something outside.

Everyone else is scattered around, trying to calm themselves down or bombarding the other state with questions.

He finds himself wrapped around America. His face grows red. Russia relaxes enough to release America. He backs away, shuffling to try to maintain some kind of distance.

"I'm okay, Meri. I'm okay. Thank you," Russia says gratefully, a little flustered.

"'Meri'? Russ, that's a girl's name," America says, crossing his arms and standing up.

Russia shrugs. "You gave me a nickname, so I gave one to you."

America laughs before pulling Russia up to his feet. A noise of frustration comes from the window.

"Texas?" America asks, turning around curiously.

"It ain't there anymore!" Texas groans, standing at the window.

"What do you mean?" America asks.

"It up an' disappeared!" Texas complains, sounding just short of throwing his hands into the air out of frustration.

America sighs.

"At least it's gone," comments one of the older teens.

"For now," another adds, cautious, her hair flowing behind her like a curtain.

Texas replaces the screen and locks the window before unloading the gun.

America rubs his face and announces, "everyone is going to stay inside. Russia and I still have a meeting we have to attend. Please keep it down and make sure to wash up. Texas and New Mexico are going to keep a lookout, and Hawaii is in charge."

The states respond with wishes of good luck and solemn agreement to follow America's instructions.

They walk back up to the office.

Russia still feels a bit shaken, but he knows that he has to finish the meeting, whether he wanted to or not.

'It was going to be impossible to sit still after such an adrenaline rush.'

Canada yells, "America! You're okay! What happened?! What are you covered in?" as soon as they come back into the frame.

"Russia, are you alright?" Soviet asks.

Russia gives a mute nod in response.

"Everyone is alright! Nobody's hurt," America reassures his brother.

"What happened?" UN questions.

"It found us," America admits.

"It was very frightening. America and I ran out of the room to make sure the situation was under control," Russia adds.

"It was not," America remarks before continuing, "the thing was outside with some of the states and tried to take Alabama!"

'So that one is Alabama. Bama as a nickname would make sense.'

"Russia and I took it by surprise, so it didn't leave immediately, but while we were trying to get back to the house, it decided it wanted to attack Russia. It teleported in front of him! Russia shot it, and we all made it back inside," America finishes, his hands waving wildly to accompany the story.

Russia nods.

"There was more than one gunshot," UN comments.

"Texas was shooting from in the house," America elaborates.

"And that horrible shrieking noise?" Philippines asks.

"It was hurt," Russia answers.

"Meeting dismissed. Everyone must inform me if any other attacks occur. Otherwise, the next meeting will be held next week. Thank you all for your participation," UN says before closing the meeting.

America slumps back in his chair. Russia lets out a world-weary sigh.

"Come on. We should probably wash up. You can use the shower in my room," America groans.

America got up, and Russia quietly follows. They walk up to the door and Russia grabs the wall to keep from falling over something at his ankles. Leaning against the door is a folded cot with cushioning wrapped around it and bedding stacked on top. Russia's suitcase leans against the stack.

America drags the cot into the room and begins to set it up while Russia brings his luggage inside. He starts digging through it, looking for something more comfortable to change into.

"Bathroom is that door over there. There are extra towels under the sink," America says, pointing to a door in the back of the room.

Russia walks in, making sure to lock the door behind him. After kicking his dirty clothes into a corner, he turns on the hot water and washes himself off. By the time he left the bathroom, America had finished setting up the cot and is sitting on his bed, messing around on his phone.

After realizing the bathroom is empty, America disappears inside. Russia takes out his phone, trying to appear busy.

Once America emerges, they both walk down to the main room where Texas and a yellow state with long hair are sitting on one of the couches that face the front door, guns laying in their laps.

"Have the others already gone to bed?" America asks.

"I think so. Most of 'em went to their rooms," Texas answers.

"Okay. You two should wash up and head to your room as well," America says, shooing them upstairs and taking a seat on the couch.

Russia falls back on the other side of the couch, putting the abandoned gun into his lap, and America picks up the other firearm. A few moments pass before someone else walks in.

"Do you two want some coffee or something?" New York asks.

Russia nods

"Yes, please," America says.

New York curtly nods before disappearing through a doorway.

A few minutes later, New York returns and hands them two steaming mugs and then heads upstairs with Jersey to retire to their room. Russia set his mug on the floor to wait for it to cool when his phone began to ring.

'It's my father.'

"Hello," Russia greets, "Is something wrong?"

"I was just making sure that you are okay," Soviet's voice comes through.

"We are alright. Nobody was injured."

"I know you are uninjured physically but are you feeling alright?"

"I am a little old for that," Russia says, a little embarrassed.

"I do not care how old you are, you are my child, and I am allowed to be concerned."

Russia wants to argue but decides against it.

"I'm scared, but I'll be okay."

"Is anyone with you?"

"Yes... Do you want me to put you on speaker?"

"Yes. Who are you with?"

"America. You are on the speaker," Russia says, placing the phone down on the couch.

"Hi," America says quietly.

His father hums in response. "Can America hear me?"

"Yes," answers Russia.

"Is the house secure?"  Soviet asks, taking on a more formal tone.

"Yeah, it should be. It couldn't teleport inside earlier, and Massachusetts put up some generic wards. I'm just happy everyone is okay," America answers, his voice sounds off.

"You sound bothered. Are you alright?" Soviet asks tentatively.

It surprises Russia that he cared at all.

"I... I don't even know. I'm just trying to figure out how to protect everyone. Keep them all safe. But it's so hard! Especially because I don't understand what is going on. It makes it hard to prevent anything! Hell, I allowed them outside, and that thing attacked them because of it!" America rambles, working himself into a frenzy.

Russia reaches over and grabs America's arm.

"America, it's alright. I'm here to help," Russia volunteers, trying his best to comfort him.

America wiped tears off of his face and let out a long sigh.

"I know! I know... I'm just worried. Canada agreed to come down from Ontario with the provinces so he can help out. Ukraine's flying back to stay with your dad tonight. But I don't get it. How did it get here? Is it even the same thing as before? How did it know we were here? It doesn't make any sense!"

"America, calm down. Panicking will not help," Soviet says, his voice stern, but holds an undertone that surprises Russia.

"Why do you care?! I get that you care about Russia, but why are you trying to help me?!"

Russia winces and waits for his father to begin screaming, only to hear his father sigh. It brings back memories of his own childhood when he would lash out, and his father would wait until he burned himself out. Bringing himself back to the present, he heard America choke back sobs.

His father continues, "America. You are stressed. This will get better."

"Why are you doing this? Why do  you care?" America asks.

His voice sounds so small that Russia couldn't help but want to wrap him up in his arms and comfort him.

"Someone has to, child. I am much older than you know, though I suppose that doesn't quite matter. I may dislike you, but my son is staying with you, and I want him to be safe."

America began weeping quietly into his hands. Russia gives in to instinct and pulls America into a bearhug, trying to comfort him. After some time had passed, America calms and sits back. Looking down, Russia realizes his father had hung up.

Russia sits back, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.

A little while later, a pair of states came to relieve them of lookout duty. Apparently, according to America, Hawaii had planned that they would stay up most of the night and wanted to force them to take a break. The two of them give in easily, and they walk upstairs to America's room.

America lays down in his bed, and Russia makes himself comfortable on the cot. He falls asleep soon after.

Chapter Text

Russia scrunches his nose at the light leaking through his eyelids. Noises and shouting ring through the house. He sits up after a moment of internal debate and rubs his eyes. Finally, once his eyes adjust, he looks around the room.

The bedroom door is ajar. Russia looks around a little more and realizes that America isn't in the room anymore.

Russia hums, a little confused.

'I wonder where he went.'

He stands up and tosses the blankets back onto the cot. The floor is chilly, but not unpleasant. The smell of cooking pastries drifts up from the kitchen. Russia spots a small scrap of paper tossed haphazardly onto the bedside table.

He walks over and carefully picks it up. It crinkles under his fingers.

"I'm in my office," it reads.

The handwriting is interconnected and it loops around extra letters. Russia nods before he freezes.

'Wait. Why am I looking for him?'

Russia shakes his head.

'I will act like a friend. I will be living with him.'

Russia tucks the note into his pocket and walks over to the office door.

He can faintly hear America talking inside. He knocks on the door and waits for a moment before twisting the handle. The door swings open easily.

"-thank God!... Yeah, Russia is staying over, and 'Nada is going to be coming with the Provinces," America says, giving Russia a brief wave and smile.

"Okay... mhmm...-Don't call me that, dickhead. Yeah, yeah... Yup. Bye."

"Who was that?" Russia asks.

"One of my brothers. He used to go by Confederacy, but now he just goes by Dixie," America explains, pocketing his phone.

"Confederacy?" Russia asks, dull memories rolling through his head, "Was that the person you fought against in your civil war?"

"Yeah. He was the Confederate States of America, but the northern states didn't really respect him until he started going by a different name: hence, Dixie."

"I thought personifications that lost civil wars were disintegrated."

"If I killed him, yeah," America says, running a hand through his hair with a nervous laugh, "But I didn't kill him, I couldn't. I did force him to reform though. Anyways, he's coming over to watch the states and provinces once Canada gets here so that you, Canada, and I can try to figure out what's going on."

Russia nods. "When is Canada going to get here?"

"I'd say maybe a day or so." America answers.

The sound of the doorbell rings from downstairs, and a rush of pattering feet follows it.

America's eyes light up, "Or not. Hold on, I gotta go get that."

America bounds down the stairs and Russia runs to keep up. Russia follows America to the door, and when America opens it, Canada walks in with a gaggle of children following in behind him.

Canada is a country Russia had only spoken with a few times. He is around two meters tall, maybe a little shorter. He is lankly, much like America, but he still has enough upper arm strength to earn Russia's respect.

His hair is wild and curly, framing his face. The colors match his flag with white in the center and red on the sides. He adorns an animal skin hat and a flannel.

Russia nods respectfully.

America greets them happily. "Hi, guys!"

"Hi, Uncle America!" the children behind Canada cheer.

"Ontario!" someone yells from behind them, and the provinces are pulled inside.

Canada calmly walks in behind them as the states began to play loudly with their cousins.

"Delaware," America calls.

"Yeah?"

"Could you watch your siblings and cousins for a few hours?"

"You got it."

America smiles happily, and the fondness in America's eyes makes Russia gasp sharply.

Then, America turns to face Russia with a smile.

"Come on. We have some important stuff to do."

Russia nods, trying his best to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. America runs up and Russia walks slowly. He looks at the pictures hanging up in the staircase hallways. Children's drawings and family portraits hang in uncentered wooden frames.

He approaches the open door America stands in the way of. Once inside, Russia closes the door, and America pulls a board out from a closet in the back of the room. America spins it around and shows off a world map with multicolored pins stuck in different places all over the world.

"What are the pins for?" Russia asks.

"The pins are to record anything related to... recent events. The red ones are for any disappearances, the green pins are for a vague estimation for where countries are, and the blue pins are for the locations of states and provinces. It's mostly to help see large groups in one area," America answers.

"Why are there blue pins in Australia?"

"Aussie has states too."

"Oh."

"You don't seem very surprised," America remarks with a chuckle.

"At this point, anything is possible," Russia replies.

America laughs.

Then, there is a knock at the door, and Canada opens it to see the tallest state and the state with the side-swiped hair standing in the hallway.

"Hey dad, we think Dixie is here, but with the whole monster thing going on..." the shorter one says, trailing off.

"Don't want extra, like, risk," the other adds.

America nods and pulls out his phone. A few moments pass.

"Go open the door for your uncle," America says, shooing them out.

Then, another state pokes her head into the office, "Pops?"

She is a little shorter than America, with heterochromatic hair pulled back into a messy bun. A large designed white circle stands out against the blue of her skin and hair.

"Yes, Virginia?"

"Just wanna let ya know that cots are all set up."

"Thank you. Alright, let's head downstairs and greet Dixie."

"Yay!" Virginia cheers and she hurries downstairs with Massachusetts on her tail.

America walks downstairs, and Canada walks beside him. Russia decides to follow them. Once they get downstairs, chaos surrounds them, as loud talking and laughter ring out across the house.

Once they get in the main room, Russia sees the face of another personification standing in front of him. He wears a design similar to America's flag, but with larger stripes and fewer stars.

He is shorter than America, which Russia had thought was impossible for any grown adult. His figure is stout and his hair looks like it had been shaved down, but had grown back in, similar to a military-style haircut. He has scars on his hands that Russia notices, but he isn't sure what to make of them.

The figure walks forward and pulls America into a hug.

"Hi Dixie!" America exclaims.

"Howdy, Amy!" Dixie shouts happily.

'Heh. Amy.'

America rolled his eyes, but a smile still crept across his face.

"I thought I asked you not to call me that."

Dixie laughs loudly, moving to hold America by the shoulders.

"Why I ain't never heard such a thing!"

"Dick," America muttered, arms crossed, but a smile still firmly planted on his face.

Dixie only laughs louder, releasing America and greeting Canada with a playful smack on the shoulder.

After greeting the brothers, Dixie turns to Russia with a grin, sticking out a hand in greeting,

"Howdy, I'm the former Confederacy, but 'cause that's a little outdated, you can call me Dixie."

"Nice to meet you, Dixie. I'm Russia," Russia replies, taking Dixie's hand into a handshake.

Dixie enthusiastically shakes Russia's hand before heading into the kitchen, loudly discussing what he should make for dinner with the states who follow him.

Russia notices a few pieces of luggage at the end of one of the couches. After watching some of the kids trip over the bags, Russia moves them onto the nearby couch.

Then, he sits down next to America, relaxing. The children run around the main room, laughing and playing. The clanging of pots and pans and loud conversations echo from the kitchen.

The atmosphere reminds Russia of his old home when he and his siblings lived together with his father.

The television plays in the background, and Russia ignores what is being shown, watching the little kids around him until one of them latches onto his leg. Looking down, he makes eye contact with a little, dark blue state with a face of stars. She has a gold hairpin in her wild, curly hair.

"Hello," Russia greets, "what's your name?"

He receives a muffled response.

"That's Alaska," America answers with a gentle smile directed to the child, "She likes you."

Unsure of what else to do, Russia helps Alaska onto the couch, and Alaska curls up next to him, watching the cartoons on the television.

"Dinner's ready!"

After a few moments of silence, a stampede shakes the house as states and provinces alike streamed out of rooms and hallways, running through hallways and pounding down staircases to reach the kitchen.

It took a few minutes to get everyone served and seated. Then, before they ate, Dixie and some of the southern states say a quick prayer. The states sounded off, followed by the provinces.

While eating, Russia can't help but notice how Dixie interacts with people. He is very loud, Russia notes. Even louder than America at times, with a laugh that could be heard through the walls. It is odd to see someone that seems more American than America.

'Dixie represents America's southern region, so maybe it isn't so weird.' Russia ponders, eating quietly.

By the end of the meal, Russia had to admit that the pie was something he wouldn't miss out on again.

Once dessert is over, the states devolve into yelling about "helping with table jobs," which seem to Russia to be after-meal chores. He could also hear Canada scolding his provinces into helping clean up after the meal.

Russia spends the rest of his evening playing card games and watching television with Alaska tucked under his arm. He spares America a few furtive glances and looks away just as quickly, his face warm.

Russia watches him laugh and America catches his eye, offering a happy smile and wave.

'Maybe we could be friends...' Russia ponders, averting his eyes.

Russia swallows and a smile makes its way onto his face.

'There are worse places to be,' Russia decides.

He falls asleep that night, content, but he knows things can't stay like this forever.

Chapter Text

Shouting and muffled laughter shake Russia awake, and he opens his eyes to dull sunlight sneaking through the blinds and into the room. Russia yawns.

'I hear my new alarm clock,' Russia thinks, bemused.

Russia sits up and picks up his hat from the end of the cot, shoving it over his bedhead. He slowly gets up and walks to the doorway.

Opening the door, Russia smiles softly at the noise. He walks downstairs and begins looking for America. After a moment, he spots America sitting at one of the tables, chatting with states surrounding him.

Russia walks up nervously and rubs the back of his neck. Though he is careful not to get too close to the group of states. He towers over them unintentionally and backs up a few steps.

'I don't want to make them uncomfortable.'

One of the states catches Russia's eye and smirks. Then he herds his siblings back and winks. Russia blushes and sits down next to America, looking away.

"Oh! Hey Russ!" America chirps, a large smile shines on his face.

"Hi," Russia replies, smiling absentmindedly.

"Want one?" America offers, holding out a pastry.

Russia nods and accepts it. It sticks to his fingers and smells very sweet, almost like pure sugar and jam. Russia almost rolls his eyes.

'Always with the sweet tooth.'

Chatter fills the room, and Russia filters it out.

It tastes exactly like it smells, and it disappears a lot sooner than Russia had expected. He finishes the last pieces stuck to his fingers and looks around, watching America wave his hands around enthusiastically.

A small child, maybe around 11, cackles in America's lap, their short orange hair puffing up around their head. America laughs and tickles them. The child cackles and squirms. America scoops them up into a hug and rocks them wildly.

It reminds Russia of himself and his youngest siblings.

'Aww,' Russia internally coos.

Then, Dixie catches Russia's attention with a whistle and waves him over. Russia nods and stands up, shaking America's shoulder.

"Your brother wants us," Russia says bluntly.

"Oh. Okay!" America says with a bright smile.

America helps the child into his seat and grabs his plate. America clears his space before walking back and giving Russia a bright smile with flushed cheeks. Russia raises an eyebrow. America laughs nervously and hurries over to Dixie. Russia rolls his eyes and follows.

"I got it from here," Dixie encourages, herding Russia, America, and Canada to the stairs, "All y'all can go on and try 'n get this figured out."

Russia walks behind America into the office and turns his attention to the board.

'Something is missing.'

"Meri?" Russia calls, purposefully ignoring Canada's snickering at the nickname.

"Yeah?"

"Do you have any pins for related attacks?"

America's eyes grow wide.

Canada snickers.

"No, he doesn't," Canada remarks.

America runs around the desk and yanks open the top drawer. He digs through several items, knocking a few pens to the floor. Then, his face brightens with a victorious grin, raising a small plastic container filled with pins of all different colors. America slams the box onto the desk and laughs.

Russia watches with a small smile that he tries to hide.

"We should use the yellow ones for the attacks," Canada suggests, smirking at Russia with a knowing look.

Russia's eyebrows furrow, but he nods in agreement. He reaches down and picks out yellow pins from the collection. He collects a small pile that America and Canada pluck from to pin to the board.

After marking all the attacks that they thought were related, Russia steps back and searches for any possible connection between the red and yellow pins.

He doesn't see any obvious patterns. Apparently, he isn't the only one.

America groans obnoxiously, rubbing his face. Russia's nose twinges with annoyance.

"Maybe it focuses on Asia? No, that doesn't make any sense..." Canada mutters with a sigh.

Russia continues to scan the map for any geographical links, but he fails to see anything. The longer he watches, the more he wants to hit his head on a wall.

Russia looks away and glances down at his phone. He hums in thought.

'Maybe I could get some help.'

Russia takes a quick picture of the map and sends it to his father. He waits a few moments before his phone buzzes with a reply.

"What did you send me?" Soviet asks.

"It's a picture of a map America has been working on. We used pins to plot people's locations and the locations of the attacks." Russia types quickly, "The green is for country locations, blue is for states and provinces, yellow is for known attacks, and red is for disappearances or last known locations of countries who have disappeared."

"Do the pins have labels?"

"Some of them do, but most of them are there to find patterns with the attacks."

There is a moment before Russia retrieves another text.

"I do not see any patterns, but I will ask Belarus and Germany to see if they have anything to say on the matter."

"Okay, thank you," Russia types, feeling a little disappointed, but he tries not to feel too discouraged.

Russia sighs.

"What you up to?" America asks.

"I was asking my father to see if he could see any patterns," Russia replies quietly, "he didn't have anything to add."

"Huh," America comments, fidgeting with his hands.

"Wasn't much help, eh?" Canada teases.

America shakes his head, "Don't be such a downer, 'Nada. It could still be helpful. We weren't getting anywhere by ourselves anyways. At this point, any help is good."

"Why don't you ask England or even the UK for help?" Russia asks.

America and Canada made eye contact and looks unwilling to answer.

"'Cause they'd hold it over us. They wouldn't wanna help us anyways. 'Nada, maybe, but not Amy," Dixie answers from the door, leaning against the frame, "I brought y'all some food if you're interested."

"Thanks, Dixie," America responds, with a smile.

America walks to the door and accepts Dixie's plate. Russia's stomach grumbles. Dixie leaves soon after to settle a dispute between some of the kids.

Russia picks up a few of the snacks and takes a seat in the desk chair, watching America complaining loudly and waving his hands and Canada mocking him. Russia smiles.

A spicy smell drifts into the room, and Russia's curiosity grows.

'I wonder what that is.'

"Mmmm," America hums, "smells like Lulu is making something good."

"Lulu?" Russia asks.

"Louisiana. She's one of the ones who's shorter than me. You'll probably be able to get to know her soon," America says with a fond smile, "smells like she's making gumbo."

'What's gumbo?'

"Supper time!" someone called from the kitchen.

Russia follows America into the kitchen, and America helps serve him a bowl to take to the table. Russia takes it gratefully and inhales the aroma from it with interest. Russia sits next to America at the main table and begins eating. The spices prickle on his tongue.

'It's unfamiliar.'

Another spoonful.

'But it's good.'

States chat eagerly around him.

"Lulu! How'd you do this?" Alabama shouts.

"I know how to cook," a blue state with an afro, Louisiana if Russia had to guess, replies with a smirk and sway of her hips.

"But-"

"Bama. Just shut your mouth and eat it," Mississippi remarks, his mouth full.

Alabama complies with a glare.

Russia stands and brings more gumbo back with him back to the table. He enjoys the soup and ignores the slight burning on his tongue.

Soon, Russia finds himself just absorbing his surroundings. Russia finds his eyes trailing back to America. Russia sighs.

Then America stands up suddenly, and Russia's head jerks up to follow.

"Come on," America says, his eyes bright.

America grabs Russia's hand and pulls him up. Russia feels his face grow warm. America drags him up the stairs and back into the office. A small smile grows across Russia's face and he grabs his hat to keep it steady.

America skids to a stop inside the office and Russia stumbles in.

Canada and a few older states walk into America's office from behind him. Virginia kicks the door shut behind them. Conversations swell, and Russia locks his eyes on the map and patiently sits in the desk chair, listening to the words.

"Is the monster the mastermind? It acts like an animal, so that doesn't make much sense..." one of the teens mutters.

"Who is behind this? Do you think it's one of you?" Canada asks.

"If it was a state, why would they be targeting other nations?" Texas says defensively.

"How do we know there is only one monster anyway? For all we know, there is a whole bunch of them!"

"How do they even know about us?!"

"What is the monster thing anyway? Was it around before, and nobody noticed or...?"

Russia tries his best to catalog as much of the information as he could, and numbly notes states coming and going from the room. They each introduce themselves to him, and he tries to remember their faces.

Hours pass and the stars start to shine. Most of the group slowly trickles out until only he and America were left.

Russia groans. His head pulses.

"I want to leave," Russia mumbles.

America doesn't reply. Russia sighs and grabs America's shoulder. America jerks up a little.

"Can we go back to your room?" Russia asks, his voice lower than he anticipated.

America stares at him for a second before a look of understanding sparks in his eyes.

"Oh. Okay," America says, looking around before staring at the clock, "shit. I didn't realize it was getting this late."

America looks away, staring at the ground with flushed cheeks.

"Sorry..." America mumbles.

Russia sighs.

"It's okay," Russia soothes, trying to erase the sadness in America's face, "let's go."

America runs a hand through his hair and Russia feels his patience thinning. He drags America back to their room, and America disappears into the bathroom.

Russia lies back onto the cot, only to hear a strange clicking. He moves to sit up, but before he has the chance, the metal supports crack.

The cot snaps around him like a venus flytrap. Sharp edges prod at his spine and metal crushes his chest.

"America?" Russia cries out.

"Yeah, Russ?" America calls back from the bathroom.

"Could I have some help?"

"With wh-," America starts, opening the bathroom door, "Oh. Are you okay?"

"It's a little hard to breathe, and I can't move," Russia replies, his voice strained.

"Okay, uh, lemme just..." America mumbles.

Footsteps approach and the metal creaks. Suddenly, some of the pressure on Russia's chest and legs is released.

"Can you crawl out?" America asks from behind him; his voice sounds tight.

Russia shimmies out head first, and as soon as his feet hit the ground, he hears the remains of the metal frame clamping down violently from behind him.

"Welp, looks like we know where you aren't sleeping tonight," America remarks with crossed arms, looking at the mass of metal and cushioning.

"Where am I going to sleep?" Russia mumbles with a yawn.

America doesn't answer. Instead, he turns and leaves the room. Russia sighs and shuffles out after America.

They walk down to the basement where Canada and the provinces are sleeping. America lightly walks back into the storage area and Russia shuffles closely behind. America ducks under the stairs, only to come back empty-handed.

America's eyebrows are furrowed, and his mouth folds into a scowl.

"Looks like the kids didn't tell me one of our cots is missing. One of 'em must have broken last time 'Nada came to visit," America groans before turning back to Russia, "We normally have a few extras, ya know, just in case. I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," Russia mumbles, rubbing his eyes, "but where am I going to sleep?"

"Do you mind sharing a bed? Otherwise, you'll be stuck on the floor, and I'll be honest, I don't remember the last time any of the floors were cleaned," America replies, running a hand through his hair.

Russia feels a few butterflies, but the cotton filling his head keeps him from thinking too much of the situation.

'I've shared a bed before,' Russia assures himself.

"The bed is fine," Russia mutters.

Russia stumbles up the stairs behind America with bleary eyes. America throws open the door and holds it there, waving Russia inside.

Russia sits down on the edge of the bed and watches America drag the cot out the door, and hears him hauling it down the stairs. Russia's head lulls to the side. When Russia looks up again, America walks back through the doorway.

"Might as well get comfortable," America mumbles, walking around to the other side of the bed and flopping down onto the blankets.

Russia decides to do the same, falling back onto the sheets.

'It smells like Meri...'

'That's weird.'

Russia fidgets around under the blankets until he's comfortable, and the world goes dark.

Chapter Text

*Very old picture, but I figure y'all would enjoy it*

Sunlight leaks through Russia's eyelids. Russia groans, trying to hide from it. His mind feels sleepy and slow. He tucks his face against some soft, warm cloth that bunches up under his cheekbone. He pays its source no mind.

He wraps his arms around the source and drags it to his chest. The warmth falls right against him, and Russia hums, burying his nose into the fabric.

'Very warm.'

Russia scrunches his face at being awake and nuzzles into the heat. His mind hums with contentment and happiness. Russia drifts back off to the drone of background noise from downstairs. He doesn't even register the person moving under him.

When Russia wakes up again, it is to applause.

Russia rubs his face groggily and yawns. He tries to ignore the clapping and the laughter that seemed to accompany it. But when it doesn't stop, he slowly sits up and reluctantly pulls away from his more comfortable position.

He stares around for a second and sees Canada and Dixie standing in the doorway, clapping. Sleepy confusion swirls through his mind. Dixie laughs and Canada snickers. Then, Dixie takes a deep breath and stands back with a smirk.

"What?" Russia mumbles.

Dixie raises an eyebrow.

"What?" Russia says a little louder, confusion clear in his tone.

"You gotta tell us what kinda magic you used to keep him sleepin'," Dixie chortles.

Russia glances to Canada for an explanation.

"Well," Canada explains, "America doesn't sleep much. I'd say he averages only a few hours a night, eh? So for you to keep him in here and asleep is something special."

America groans. He turns over onto Russia's leg and shoves his face into the cushions.

"This better be about food," he complains, his voice muffled.

Russia giggles at the comment. America quickly rolls off of him, hiding his face.

Dixie scoffs and mocks him, "You and food. Anyways, brunch is being served downstairs if you're interested."

"Brunch?" America asks, sitting up with his hands on his cheeks.

'Why is he holding his head like that?'

"Yeah, the kids and I made some breakfast casserole," Dixie proclaims proudly.

America hops up and hurries out of the room. Russia shoves his hat on and gets up to follow.

'What is breakfast casserole?' Russia wonders with a yawn.

Russia follows America down to the kitchen and sees countless steam trays filled with food lining the counters. Russia takes a plate from a nearby stack and looks around. He defaults to walking behind America.

"What is this?" Russia asks, gesturing to the trays.

"Good is what it is! This one is blueberry french toast, this one is just regular, and this one is pumpkin cinnamon roll," America replies enthusiastically.

Russia decides to follow America's example and got one piece of each. Although finishing all of it made him a little nauseous, he doesn't regret it.

Russia wanders into the living room and falls onto the couch. Alaska joins him, tucking herself under his arm.

'How odd,' Russia thinks, looking down at Alaska.

Ultimately, he leaves her be.

'She looks comfortable.'

Alaska sits quietly at his side for a few minutes before she begins muttering to him. Russia looks down and offers her a gentle smile and a nod.

Alaska's eyes light up and she sits up. She begins fidgeting and telling stories.

"You won't believe what Utah told me!" Alaska exclaims.

Russia nods along to her ramblings, relaxed. Then, there is a slight pause with Alaska staring up at him with curiosity. Russia panics.

"How do you like it here?" Russia asks, his voice jumping in pitch briefly.

"It's so much fun! Living by myself is a little lonely, but Uncle Canada keeps me company! And Papa is very nice. He makes sure that all of us have everything we need. And my siblings are great. They can be annoying sometimes, but that's okay," Alaska says with a bright smile.

Russia smiles, and soon, the television steals Alaska's attention. Russia spaces out a little, allowing his thoughts to roam.

"Food!" Dixie calls from the kitchen, snapping Russia out of his musing.

Russia gets up and walks into the kitchen with Alaska waddling after him. Russia tucks a few sweets into his pocket and begins walking upstairs.

"See you later, Mr. Russia," Alaska calls, waving excitedly.

Russia smiles and waves back. He walks into the office and hears America and Canada chattering away. The office smells a little stuffy and like paper. Russia sits back in America's desk chair and begins to make little towers out of the leftover colored pins on the desk's edge.

Then, his phone rings. He scoops up the pins and drops them into a small pile next to the box before answering it.

"Hello?"

"Gutentag Russland!"

"Hi, Germany. What's going on?"

"Well, Soviet came to talk to France and me, and I think we're onto something."

"Oh, alright. I'm working with America and Canada at the moment. Can I put you on speaker?"

"Sure! Just let me know when you're done."

"Alright, it's done."

"Gutentag!"

"Hi, Germany!" America proclaims with an enthusiastic wave.

Russia sighs at the movement.

'Does he know Germany can't see him?'

"Hello," Canada greets more calmly, a crooked smile on his face.

"Okay. So, we found that we don't believe that geography affects the attacks or disappearances," Germany explains.

"No wonder we weren't getting anywhere!" America yells.

Russia laughs at America's frenzied hand motions.

Germany waits a moment for them to quiet down before continuing.

"We are under the impression that some of the countries are being targeted, including America. It seems like the person has to be alone or mostly alone before they are attacked. Grouping up appears to have helped lessen the attacks, but that makes me worried."

"Why? Isn't that a good thing?" America asks.

"Well, yes, but it does make me think that something even worse is going to happen because of it. If someone is behind this, the fewer opportunities could frustrate them and force them to do something more..." Germany replies, trailing off.

"Extreme?" America suggests.

"Yes, extreme," Germany agrees.

"That's no good," America remarks.

"You think?" Canada asks sarcastically.

"Do you have any ideas about who could be behind this?" Russia interrupts the brothers, hoping to stop the fight before it gets heated.

"No, we don't. I've already asked my father, but he doesn't have any ideas either. We do think that this is either fueled by revenge or bloodlust," Germany ponders, "Another motivation could be power, but since we aren't sure what is happening to the countries who have disappeared, it seems less likely. Especially because the countries that have had a personification disappear haven't dissolved. But, again, most of this is just speculation."

"Do you think it's another personification doing this?" America asks.

"No...? I don't think so." Germany replies, but his voice isn't as sure as it had been.

"Hmm.." America hums, tapping his chin with one of his fingers, before he begins speaking again, "well, we have to find out somehow. We could bug somebody and use them as bait to be taken so we can figure out what's going on," he suggests.

Russia opens his mouth to disapprove of the idea but pauses.

"That sounds dangerous," Germany comments.

"But it might work," America defends.

Canada looks worried, and his eyebrows furrow. "America, are you sure that is a good idea?" he asks.

"Well, let me know if one of you thinks of a better plan," America replies, arms crossed, "besides, Dixie is here and he can watch the states-"

Russia's heart drops into his stomach, though he isn't completely sure why.

"Wait! Are you suggesting you go?" Russia interrupts loudly, cutting America off.

"Well, yeah? Who else? I'll be fine. 'sides, better me than one of you," America replies nonchalantly, "If you think of a better plan that doesn't include just waiting around, let me know."

Russia feels frantic, desperately trying to think of another plan that doesn't include putting someone in danger, but he comes up blank. He takes a deep breath.

'Why am I so attached?'

He shakes his head to dismiss the thought.

'It doesn't matter. I have to stop him.'

Canada furrows his eyebrows, and his eyes focus on his feet. America waits, arms crossed and mouth tight.

"This isn't a good idea," Germany remarks.

"And? See, y'all got nothing. Listen, we have to do something before this gets worse," America says stubbornly.

Russia's stomach sinks.

Chapter Text

Russia is really beginning to hate this plan.

He'd already spent a good hour trying to think of a better solution, but America's mind is made, and he isn't backing down.

"I want to protect them," America would defend.

"It shouldn't be at the cost of your safety."

"I don't care about that. I care about trying to protect my kids."

Russia reluctantly helps Canada rig America with as many microphones and tracking devices as they can. New York calibrates each piece as they are attached, connecting them to his laptop and setting them to record.

Even then, Russia isn't sure if the devices would even work. He would have to "Hope for the best," as America put it.

'What if this didn't work? What then?'

He didn't know.

America insists that they follow through with his plan as soon as possible, but considering that the sun is beginning to set by the time all the devices were in place, it doesn't seem very smart.

Even still, when Russia tries to argue, his concerns are waved off with a confident smile.

"Nighttime is the BEST time, Russ. Monsters love the dark."

After America is bugged, New York tests the GPS connection on his laptop, which takes a few extra moments to load. Once it's successful, they join the others for dinner.

On any other day, the smells from the kitchen would've been interesting. But now, Russia finds himself just picking at his plate.

A few of the states ask him "what's wrong?"

Russia just shakes his head at the questions.

After the sound off and everyone is seated and served, America takes a deep breath and stands up.

"I have some very important news!" he announces.

The states quiet down. America offers a grin with a few too many teeth to be genuine. Russia's stomach twists.

"I have decided that we can't just wait around until more countries go missing or while you all are in danger," America exclaims, "I had Russia, Canada, and New York help put some listening and tracking devices on me, and tonight, we are going to figure out what's actually going on."

As soon as America finishes his speech, objections rise from the crowd, the loudest of which came from Dixie.

"Are y'all crazy?! I ain't never heard of somethin' so fucking insane!" Dixie hollers.

The states voice their agreement, slamming their fists on the table and jumping out of chairs.

America scowls.

"I have already made my decision. I can't wait here anymore! I can't stand by with my children in constant danger. Several of you have already been attacked!" he yelled, his hands flying in the air.

The states stare in disbelief.

"I'm leaving tonight," America finished, stomping his foot as if to punctuate the sentence.

"You're leaving?" Alaska asks quietly, tears in her eyes.

A state pulls her into a hug, looking displeased.

Everyone in the room glances at each other in horror, their faces twisting with expressions of anger, worry, and distress. Russia feels the knot in his chest tighten.

"What if this don't work?" one of the states asks, with broad shoulders and a red border outlining his face.

America grimaces for a moment before his expression turns to a smile that contorted his cheeks.

"Don't worry about it. It'll work. I promise," America assures him.

Alaska stands up and runs to America, latching onto him.

"Stay safe, daddy. Please," she mumbles.

The rest of the states walk over, and America gives every single one a tight hug. He smiles gently and wipes away the tears from their cheeks.

The provinces and Canada give him a group hug. America chuckles and ruffles Nova Scotia's hair.

Dixie smacks America's shoulder before giving him a tight hug, muttering something that Russia can't hear.

Russia walks up, unsure of what to do, and America pulls him into a hug, which he quickly returns.

"You shouldn't be doing this," Russia remarks quietly, pulling back.

America looks up and gives a gentle smile with watery eyes.

"Hey, do me a favor? Make sure things don't fall apart?" America asks, hands fidgeting by his sides.

Russia gave a swift nod.

'This feels way too much like a final goodbye,' Russia decides.

Nausea floods his system. America places a hand on Russia's shoulder.

"It's gonna be okay, dude. You look like you're gonna be sick."

Russia forces out a laugh in response. It grates against his ears. America smiles painfully.

"I'll be okay. And I'll be back before you know it," America assures him.

'Are you sure?'

Russia returns to his seat and sits quietly, pushing around the food on his plate.

America laughs loudly from the end of the table. Russia's eyes swivel up at the sound.

"Lighten up! Come on," America says, a tight smile stretching across his face, "I'll be fine! 'Sides, I won't be gone forever."

Russia sees that every face but America's is marred with deep frowns and teary eyes. Most of the states don't even look up, instead choosing to stare down at the plates in front of them. America sits back down, his shoulders sinking.

The silence is stifling, but Russia knows that he isn't going to be the one to break it. He quietly clears his space before standing in the entryway, hoping to get one last chance to intercept America before he leaves.

He is followed there by what feels like the rest of the dining room. America walks up to the entryway with a small bag on his back, filled with what Russia hopes is supplies. America offers a small smile, and Russia tries to return the gesture.

America gazes over the group before focusing on Dixie.

"You got it from here?" America asks with a nervous grin.

"I was gonna say this is a bad idea and that you're an idiot, but yeah. I got it from here. You'd better come back safe, or so help me, I'll hunt you down myself," Dixie replies, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

America chuckles as if he doesn't know how else to react.

America turns his attention back to the large crowd and raises a hand.

"Bye," America calls, giving a final wave before he turns to the door.

The front door opens with a squeak, and America walks out, disappearing into the dark.

Chapter Text

Russia tosses and turns in bed, sleepless.

And by the noises in the hallways, he isn't the only one. The states' pattering footsteps echo down the hall, and Russia can make out muffled talking through the walls.

New York had already told them all that he would watch his computer and report any strange activity. He had actually suggested they sleep.

"There isn't a thing that we could do, even if something did happen," New York would chide.

Russia feels his heart in his throat.

'Not a thing...'

Then, he hears a shout from the office.

Russia hops up and races into the hallway. He ducks into the office and sees New York sitting in the office chair, laptop set up in front of the desktop on the desk.

New York takes off his headset and throws it to the ground before putting his head in his hands.

"Are you alright?" Russia asks tentatively, placing a hand on New York's shoulder.

New York groans in response. Russia takes a look at the computer to see that all the devices that America had on were disconnected. He inhales sharply.

New York mutters into his hands.

"What's wrong?" Dixie asks, sliding into the room.

New York mumbles something under his breath.

"What?" Canada asks, poking his head into the doorway.

"Dad's GONE!" New York screams, standing up from his chair, a few tears streaming down his face.

New York heaves and swipes at his face before running out of the room. Not sure of what else to do, Russia picks up the discarded headset and puts it on. He plays the last known recording.

At first, it's quiet. Then, the microphone picks up a strange choking noise and a shout. Then, static.

When the static calms, Russia can hear America's breathing.

Relief floods Russia.

It doesn't last long.

Soon, he hears talking in the background. But it sounds far away and muffled.

Then, footsteps. The voice gets closer and becomes clearer as a result.

It isn't a voice Russia recognizes.

"Oh, we can't have people finding out what's going on, now can we?" the voice croons.

Russia identifies an American dialect.

An earsplitting crack.

The soft buzz of radio interference.

Russia stares at the black computer screen and he sees that the crack was shortly before the GPS was also disconnected. He fights the urge to toss the laptop to the ground. Instead, he pulls up the last known location where the GPS was transmitting.

Unfortunately, it hadn't had enough time to broadcast an exact location.

Its last recorded transmission is located somewhere in the Western US. Still, the information is distorted, and the device cannot transmit any more information to pinpoint an exact location. Russia growls and carefully removes the headset, dropping it down on the desk.

Then, the desktop dings with a notification.

After moving the laptop, Russia sees a reminder to attend the UN meeting.

Russia sighs and hands the smaller computer off to Dixie. Russia quickly shoos all the curious bystanders out of the room. Russia falls back into the office chair and he pulls up the meeting's link. Canada drags a chair behind the desk.

Once they connect, UK scoff.

"Late as always," he says.

Russia scowls at the lean former pirate.

'There is only so much outward change to hide your soul.'

"Russia?" his father asks in a worried tone.

"America is gone," Russia bites out.

"What do you mean 'gone'?" Ireland asks, concern in his voice.

"He went out to get captured. He thought he could get more information if he were taken," Russia growls.

"The stuff we used to track and record him was destroyed right after he was taken," Canada finishes.

"Did it give us any new information?" UN asks, his ever-changing face holding an expression that demands answers.

"It is in North America. The GPS tracked it to the American Rocky Mountains before it was disconnected," Russia recalls with a vacant stare.

"At least he did something useful for once," UK scoffs.

Russia finds a sudden urge to strangle the country.

Canada shoots out of his chair.

"He sacrificed his own well-being to protect his family!" Canada snaps, his mouth contorted into a snarl and hands clenching into fists on the desk, "it's not like the same can be said about you."

"We are done," Russia asserts, exiting the meeting before anyone had the chance to respond.

A newfound silence fills the room, and Canada covers his face.

"What are we going to do now?" Canada mumbles.

"We find him."

Canada nods. "We can't go alone," he mutters.

Russia nods in agreement before his eyes return to the door.

"We don't have to."

Russia stands and shoves the chair into the desk. He wretches open the door and takes a deep breath.

"Everyone to the main room!" he barks, his voice echoing in the halls.

Russia looks back at Canada before he walks down the stairs with determination.

Russia makes it into the main room and sees the states gathered up in the room, rubbing tired eyes and looking around worried. A short, yellow, chaotic state in a sports jersey stands over New York, looking worried. The two hold hands. Russia lets out a sigh, and his shoulders slump.

"New York, this is not your fault," Russia insists.

New York curls into himself and hides his face in his knees. Russia refocuses on the other states but he fails to meet their eyes.

"What's going on?"

"What happened?"

"York?"

"Did something happen to Dad?"

"America was taken. We will be going on a search with a small group," Russia replies.

"Why does it have to be small?" The state with the side-swept hair inquiries, star freckles dotting his face.

'Like Alaska...'

Russia shakes off the thought.

Canada answers, "There's something else at play here. Having a large group would draw a lot of unwanted attention, eh?"

"I'll go," Alaska volunteers, waving her hand in the air frantically.

"No, Alaska, it's too dangerous for you," the older state often accompanying her objects, gently pulling Alaska's hand back down.

"But Hawaii! I want to help daddy!" Alaska whines and tears gather in her eyes.

"I'll go," a smaller, frail-looking state volunteers, "I might be able to use some magic to avoid any extra complications."

"I'm gonna go," Louisiana volunteers, "I might even be able to track him."

"I'm goin'. I've held my own against that thing before," Texas announces, standing up.

Russia nods, agreeing with the states' decisions.

"I think that is all we can take," Canada says, "Russia, Massachusetts, Texas, Louisiana, and I will be going out tomorrow to begin our search. New York?"

New York looks up, his tear-stained face propped up on his knees.

"We need you here running interference. Keep an eye out for anything strange because there will be carnage," Canada promises.

New York gives Canada a sharp nod, and his eyes narrow with determination.

Russia sighs.

"We will leave tomorrow. Stay here. We will be back," Russia promises quietly.

The states nod stiffly.

Now on a mission, Russia takes the stairs two at a time, returning to America's room to pack up what clothes he had left. As he retreats to his bedroom, his phone vibrates.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Russia," his father's voice responds.

"Oh. Hello."

"Are you alright? You looked upset, and you left the meeting early."

"I'll be fine. Did I miss anything?'

"Nothing important as far as I can recall. However, UN announced that no one was to try to find America or the other countries at this time."

Russia doesn't respond.

"That is what you were planning to do?"

Soviet sighs. "Do you have everything you need for a rescue mission?"

Russia pauses.

'You aren't siding with UN's decision?'

"Yes," Russia replies, his mind spinning.

"Are you going with others?"

"Yes, with Canada and a few of the states."

"Good. You are safer in a group."

"I'll be fine. You do not need to worry for me."

"Bring a weapon or a tool. A crowbar will work."

"A crowbar?"

"The Rocky Mountains in America are very remote. You will have to defend yourself."

"Okay. I'll ask Dixie to see if anyone here has one."

"'Dixie'?"

"Dixie was the Confederacy from the American Civil War."

His father gives a light chuckle. "I will let you finish packing. Ask the states around the mountains about climate."

"Okay"

"And appropriate clothing."

"Okay"

"And-"

"Papa! I'll be okay," Russia interrupts.

Soviet pauses for a moment and sighs.

"Stay safe."

"Bye."

Russia hangs up and turns around, only to see Virginia standing in the doorway.

"Virginia?"

"Hi, Russ. I was wonderin' if you wanted me to grab some of y'all's laundry and get it all cleaned up before you go."

Russia nods.

Virginia gives Russia a soft smile.

"You know, I like you. You ain't just waiting for Dad to save himself."

She quickly gathers the laundry and moves to leave, but she pauses in the doorway.

"Keep my siblings safe, will ya?"

"I will."

She smiles and leaves.

Russia walks down the stairs, looking for Dixie, and finds him sitting on one of the couches in the main room with the television on.

"Dixie?" Russia calls.

Dixie sits up and turns to face Russia.

"Yeah, Rooski?"

"Do you have a crowbar that I could have?"

"Sure. Why do you ask?"

"My father wants me to have a weapon and recommends a crowbar."

Dixie laughs.

"Your pops is lookin' out for you, huh? Come on. I think they keep the extra tools downstairs."

They walk downstairs to the basement. Russia overhears Canada trying to comfort his provinces about his departure. Russia stays close to the walls and follows Dixie around to the storage area.

Dixie disappears inside the storage room and reappears a few moments later with a large crowbar.

"This is the best one we got."

"Thank you."

"Nah, I should be thanking you. You're saving my brother."

They part ways once they leave the basement. Russia begins his climb back upstairs, and his phone buzzes. He pauses and pulls it out of his pocket. Looking down at the message, he sees it's a text from New York.

"I've got the five plane tickets for a flight from PIT to DEN linked below. The flight boards at 5:00 PM tomorrow. The drive to the airport is around 45 minutes from here. You'll arrive at the Denver airport at around 5:30 Mountain Time."

There is also a link attached to the message. Russia nods to himself and tucks his phone back into his pocket before continuing his journey up the stairs.

'It's going to be a long night.'

Chapter Text

Russia lays back and stares at the ceiling. His head throbs, but he can't bring himself to care. He waits for the sun to rise. When sunlight leeches through the half-open blinds, Russia sits up and gets ready for the long journey ahead.

He opens the door and almost trips on a neatly stacked pile of folded clothes.

He leans over and picks it up, carrying it all back into the room. He tosses the stack onto the bed, and a backpack pokes out from the bottom of the pile. He pulls out the bag and examines it.

It looks like a recolored military pack. The fabric is black and several straps would help keep it compact.

Russia opens it and packs the essentials, such as extra clothes and other hygiene items. He straps the crowbar to the side and tightens the straps.

He throws the bag over his shoulder and walks down to the dining room. It smells like baked goods and a little smoke.

'Did they burn something?'

Russia drops the bag by the front door and wanders into the kitchen. He takes one of the muffins from a platter on the kitchen counter and sits at one of the dining tables, between Texas and Canada.

He looks around, taking a bite. It's sweet, and the top crumbles in his mouth.

'Not bad...'

"Hi," says a voice from behind him.

Russia turns to see the thin, paper-white state.

"I'm Massachusetts," the state says, holding out a hand, "I figure we haven't chatted much. Nice to meet you. Well, that's a lie. But either way, hi."

Russia takes his hand. It's boney in his grip.

Massachusetts stands in front of him, a large, old-looking book under his arm. He's wearing a dark blue sweatshirt with green letters across it: M I T. His arms are thin and look almost long on his body. His face is sharp, and his blue and gold flag stands out behind his light gold eyes. His white hair is combed forward, styled into something Russia can only compare to a goose tail.

"And I'm Louisiana, but most of them call me Lulu," says the other more unfamiliar state from beside Texas.

Louisiana is dark blue with a white bird in the center of her face. Her hair is very tightly coiled, puffing up where it can. It's hampered by a yellow hairband, and it stands in a halo around her head. She wears a knee-length yellow dress, matching her hairband. Her legs are marred with countless scars, but she doesn't seem bothered by them. She is very short, even compared to America. Her smile is bright, reminding Russia of America.

"Howdy," Texas mumbles, "I'm Texas."

Texas is the tallest of the three. He has very wide shoulders, and his head is adorned with a very old-looking cowboy hat. He wears a button-up and his face is decorated with a strong jaw-line. His hair is thick and wild under his hat. His face and hair are split down the middle, blue on one side and the other is split once more. Russia also notes the stars on the backs of his heterochromatic hands.

Glancing down, Russia notices that Texas is staring down at the table, with no food under his gaze.

Russia hums.

'He shouldn't be leaving with us without eating.'

Russia gets up and grabs another plate from the kitchen. He brings back some bacon and a muffin and puts the plate under Texas' face.

Texas looks up and shoots him a confused look. Russia sighed.

"You need to eat."

Texas shrugs and nibbles on a piece of bacon.

Looking up to examine the others in the dining room, Russia sees tired and bloodshot eyes from most of the people around the tables.

New York sits at the end of one of the tables. He looks exhausted, typing on his laptop and drinking coffee, and another state with a dog at his heels occasionally walks over and supplies him a new cup.

Someone is playing a card game with a few of the other states. Most of the others just sit quietly, not eating much.

After breakfast, Russia takes to pacing around the main room.

The knot in his stomach tightens as his mind fills with worse-case scenarios.

'Is he dead?'

'Where did he go?'

'Is he okay?'

Russia fidgets with his hands and is eventually pulled down onto one of the couches by Canada.

"Calm down, eh? You're going to wear a hole in the floor," Canada says with a half-smile.

Russia can only stay still for a few minutes before he gets back to his feet. So, he approaches Colorado with a few questions. Colorado has a large red 'C' with a yellow center, so Russia was more easily able to identify him out of the crowd.

Colorado is fairly short with more leg than arm strength. He struck Russia as a hiker. His hair has an undercut colored white alongside his flag, and fluffy, almost curly blue hair grows out on the top of his head. He has a kind, soft-looking face that's adorned with a worried smile.

"What weather should we be expecting?" Russia asks, his father's suggestion floating around his mind.

"Well..." Colorado says slowly, " snowfall, 'specially around the mountains, is pretty common. But, the typical fall weather around the west is mild..."

Russia nods along.

'I hope America isn't hurt.'

'Are we going to find him?'

'...or are we going to get trapped too?'

Russia swallows the lump in his throat.

Colorado stops talking.

Russia's mind snaps back to the present.

"Sorry," Russia says sheepishly.

"It's okay. I think all of us are a little distracted," Colorado says with a kind smile before he walks off to mingle with his siblings.

Russia stares up at the ceiling for a second, trying to stamp down his emotions. Then, he sits back down next to Canada. Canada gives him a hesitant smile. Russia looks away. The states continue to walk up to Russia, shaking his hand and smiling. Washington appears to be slightly taller than America, with messy hair and a service dog. Pennsylvania has a whiny voice and a spark of mischief in his eyes.

West Virginia's appearance takes Russia by surprise. The state has clearly dyed, neon green hair and large gauges in his cheeks. The image is intimidating, but the boy himself is soft-spoken and kind.

They have an early lunch, and Russia catches Dixie sticking a few extra snacks into his backpack.

With Pennsylvania in the driver's seat and Washington in the passenger seat, they ride to the airport at around noon. Pennsylvania puts on the radio and tunes it to play songs that Russia doesn't recognize. Even still, the songs are upbeat, so he can't complain.

Washington's dog sits in the back row footwell. Russia reaches out carefully to pet it when Louisiana slaps his hand away.

"That's Washington's service dog," Louisiana explains, wagging her finger, "You don't touch her, 'specially not when she's got her vest on. Wash needs her for his seizures."

Russia nods, his eyes wide, and he retracts his hand.

"Lu, you didn't need to smack him," Texas comments.

"Well, he shouldn't touch the dog that has 'DO NOT PET' on it."

Texas sighs incredulously. Massachusetts buries his face further into his book.

Checking into the airport is cumbersome. Unfortunately, due to the weapons they were taking with them, most of their bags can't be taken as carry-ons.

Massachusetts is the only one who brings his bag to the terminal and spends most of his time reading books written in an alphabet Russia doesn't recognize. He tries to read some of it to get an idea of the topic but finds it gives him a headache.

'I wonder what language that is?'

Russia fidgets throughout their entire journey, half-expecting something to jump out at them at any moment.

The second they leave the airport, they re-armed themselves and hop into a car rented for them by New York. It smells like a new car, as expected.

Russia texts a quick "Thank you" to New York.

He receives a response of "Np," a few moments later.

Russia stares at the screen for a moment before looking up, his face twisted into an expression of confusion.

"What does 'N' 'P' mean?" Russia asks aloud.

Louisiana bursts into laughter.

"It means 'no problem' or 'you're welcome,'" Massachusetts explains with a chuckle.

Ringing begins next to Canada. Canada pulls out his phone and hands it to Russia. After some fumbling, Russia is able to connect it to the Blue-tooth speakers in the car.

"Hello?" Canada says.

"Hi," New York's fast-paced voice rings out, "So, you know how I've been doing research? Well, I think Dad is definitely somewhere up in the mountains. There have been a bunch of strange reports. I got a hotel suite to stay in while you're there. I'll send Canada the link."

"Thank you," Canada says.

"Don't worry about it. You better be on your way. I'll call you again tonight."

"Alright. Thank you," Canada says before the call hangs up.

Then, he turns to Russia.

"Can you put the address into my phone?"

Russia nods and sets up the directions, propping up the phone on the dash.

After about an hour on the road, they arrive at a small hotel in the foothills. Russia walks in with Canada, and the states follow closely behind. After checking in, they head upstairs to check out their room.

The suite is large: it had two side rooms with two beds each and a fold-out couch. The kids are quick to claim beds. Russia ends up with the sofa, Massachusetts and Canada are in one room, and Texas and Louisiana are in the other.

After some discussion, they agree exploring the mountains at night isn't a good idea. They gather together in the larger room and Texas turns the TV on and changes the channel to one playing cartoons.

"Taz, seriously?" Louisiana says.

"What? Lulu, I ain't watching no True Crime show or the News right now."

"These are for kids. Mass?"

"Why are you looking at me? I like cartoons," Massachusetts says with a shrug.

Louisiana huffs and crosses her arms.

Russia watches the odd commercials to distract himself from the creeping darkness and quiet surrounding the hotel.

'The medical commercials are quite funny.'

Motion catches Russia's attention, and he finds that Louisiana had sat down next to him. Looking over out of curiosity, Russia finds himself watching her fiddle with some fabric. She sews together a small doll that has an American flag pattern across its face and is dressed in a black shirt and jeans.

Louisiana takes a lens out of a pair of America's sunglasses and crushes it. She tucks some of the smaller pieces into the last remaining hole in the seams of the doll before closing the doll with a few swift stitches.

At around 10:00, Russia's phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's York. I wanted to make sure you guys got to the hotel okay."

"Yes, we did," Russia confirms.

There is a quick pause before the phone call ends.

Russia pulls the phone from his ear before he shrugs.

'At least it was short.'

Russia plugs in his phone and yawns.

'I'm tired...'

Russia stands up and shoos the kids off the cushions. He switches off the TV and opens the pull-out bed. He falls asleep quickly.

The next morning starts early, with Russia and the others leaving the hotel at around 4:00 AM, only stopping at a small dinner for breakfast before they began on one of the dark, winding mountain roads.

Russia takes his place in the driver's seat and Louisiana sits in the passenger's seat. Everyone else piles into the rear seats.

Louisiana holds the doll that she had finished last night, muttering things that Russia can't understand.

Even so, he doesn't question her.

"Just drive around for a while. I'll tell you if you need to stop," Louisiana says.

Russia turns the radio on with low volume and focuses on the weaving roads ahead of him. The pavement is only illuminated by the headlights.

The stars shine brightly above in the nighttime sky.

Chapter Text

The road crawls by in the dark, and the green exit signs float by. Russia's eyes catch on the painted stripes glinting up from under the edge of the headlights. He squints, trying to stay focused.

'I need more sleep.'

The trees pass in a dark blur.

Texas mumbles something from the backseat and Massachusetts shushes him. Canada hums the tune playing softly on the radio. The car smells like cheap fries and cardboard.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of Russia's neck stands up.

'Uh oh.'

He takes a glance at everyone else in the car and sees that they had stiffened as well. Louisiana glares out her window, her eyes focused on something outside. Russia tries his best to keep his eyes trained on the road. His mind seems to have other intentions, as his eyes glide back to strange black figures.

The shadows around the high beams form shapes that move alongside the car. Russia glances into the mirror. In the reflection he sees Texas holding his gun with a tight grip, glaring outside. Massachusetts raises his hands to chest level and his eyes flash green.

Russia's eyes swivel back to the road. It twists and swerves around the mountain rocks

"Something's watchin' us," Texas mutters into the quiet of the car, shattering it.

"It doesn't have the same signature as the thing that was attacking us at the house," Massachusetts notes, a bit of hesitation in his tone.

"It still ain't good," Louisiana says with a frown, her gaze distant.

"Just keep going," Canada suggests, and Russia isn't about to disagree.

The car begins to slow.

'What?'

The engine sputters, and the headlights flicker.

'No. No, no.'

Russia begins hitting the dashboard, and the dials all sink to zero. The car slows to a crawl, even with Russia pressing the gas pedal to the floor. The engine roars. The lights on the dashboard flicker. The engine chokes.

'What the fuck is happening?!'

Russia clutches the wheel tightly and holds his breath as the car slowed to a stop.

"What in the hell is going on?!" Texas shouts, sounding irritated and frantic.

"I don't know," Russia replies through clenched teeth.

Russia glances up into the rearview mirror and catches a glimpse of something towering over the trees, only illuminated by the fading taillights.

Russia's eyes begin to water. His knuckles turn white. His chest is tight, and static fills his ears. He thinks he can hear someone talking to him, but he can't make out what is being said.

Someone grabs him.

Russia's head whips around and he finds a wide-eyed Louisiana staring back.

"Lock the doors!" she barks.

Russia slams his hand down on the button as soon as the words register.

'What do I do? What can I do?'

Russia presses the break and clutch into the floor and yanks the key out of the ignition. He shoves it back, wrenching it forward.

The engine gives only a sputter at his efforts.

His eyes burn, and his lip quivers. He contorts his mouth into a snarl.

'Looking angered is safer than terrified.'

He can almost feel the world-shaking footsteps as something approaches the car.

Russia jams the key into the slot again.

He hears muffled voices shouting something behind him.

'They sound panicked,' he notices numbly.

Russia's hands shake, and he makes the mistake of looking up. Glowing slits stalk toward them, emerging from the dark. Russia wretches the key out of the ignition and scrambles to put it back in and thrust it forward.

The engine sputters.

Just before he pulled the key back out, the engine begins to hum quietly. The headlights flicker dimly, just barely bringing the outside world back into view.

'It is just enough to see.'

Russia shoves the car into first gear, trying desperately to get it to catch. The car jerks forward, but nothing more.

The tires screech.

'Are we being held in place?'

Russia leans forward.

"Please. Please. Please," Russia mutters.

He shoves against the clutch and tries again, slamming on the gas. The engine roars. The tires squeal against the asphalt.

'Need traction.'

Russia pulls up his foot and tries again. Tears well. A blood-curdling shriek from outside.

'Please...'

The car flies forward. Russia swerves to avoid the guardrail. Someone screams from the backseat. Russia drives as fast as the empty roads allow, regardless of the speed limit.

His heart hammers against his ribcage, and a lump blocks his voice. Staring forward, Russia notices that the headlights are brightening again. After a few moments, they are shining at full power.

Silence seeps into the car, save heavy breathing.

"Is everyone alright?" Canada asked from one of the backseats, his voice cracking, "Russia?"

"I'm okay," Russia replies shakily.

"You can't be going this fast," Louisiana comments.

Russia complies and eases up on the gas. He stares forward, ignoring the figures outside. Uneasy quiet fills his mind, and his head buzzes with the sound of the engine.

Once the stars disappear and the sky turns from black to orange and blue, Russia pulls off the road onto the shoulder. He sits back in his seat after pulling the parking brake. He rubs his face with his shaking, cramped hands.

Russia turns off the car and throws the keys onto the dashboard with a heavy sigh.

"Hey Massy, Lulu, is there anything around here?" Texas asks.

"I don't sense anything aggressive..." Massachusetts comments.

"I ain't getting much," Louisiana admits.

Canada leans out of his seat and taps Russia's shoulder. Russia looks up with furrowed brows.

"Any plans on what to do now?" Canada asks.

"I will not drive in the dark again."

Massachusetts huffs and Texas barks out a laugh.

"But I think we should do some magic scans before we start moving again," Louisiana suggests to Massachusetts, who nods in agreement.

They move to exit the car, and Russia decides to follow to make sure nothing happens. He exits the car and retrieves his crowbar, throwing it over his shoulder. He walks over to the states, watching the trees suspiciously.

Russia pushes Texas behind him. His promise to Virginia rings through his mind.

'I will protect these states, these children, like my father had tried to do for me.'

Canada stands at Russia's side, hockey stick at his side.

"There is something weird going on in the trees," Massachusetts stated, his hands falling to his sides.

"It is aggressive?" Canada asks.

"I don't think so. I don't think it's sentient either. But it's weird anyway. It's not too far."

"Are we investigating?" Texas asks.

"I think that's a good idea," Louisiana agrees.

Massachusetts leads them down a well-worn path into the trees. It smells like dirt and pine needles.

Russia trails behind them and watches as Louisiana scratches the trees to the right of the path as they passed. The marks are simple straight lines that start at her shoulder height and went downwards, deep into the bark. The scratching noise is almost comforting.

They continue walking until they reach a bizarre sight that stops Russia in his tracks.

"What?" Russia whispers.

A staircase.

Russia glances around for the rest of the building it had to have belonged to, but he couldn't find any evidence of there ever being a foundation.

The staircase is covered in pristine, white carpet. There is no damage to any of the steps and smells like the carpet had been freshly cleaned.

'It looks a lot like a video game glitch,' Russia thinks, baffled.

Then, movement catches Russia's peripheral vision. His head jerks to get a better look, and he sees Texas scuffing toward the stairs.

Texas' gait looked tired and stumbling. Everyone else seems stuck, faces with wide eyes and furrowed brows.

'This is wrong.'

Russia's stomach sinks.

'I can't let him touch that.'

Russia leaps forward with his arms out. Just as Texas is about to put a foot on the first step, Russia grabs his shoulder and pulls him back.

"Texas!"

He feels Texas jolt under his hand, and Texas backpedals into Russia. Russia falls to the ground, and Texas lands on top of him before scrambling off. Russia gets up and keeps his eyes focused on the staircase, herding the states behind him with his arm.

"We need to go back," Russia demands.

But when he turns to leave, he realizes just how disoriented he had become. He clutches his crowbar and looks over at Louisiana. She turns and silently leads them back to the last marked tree they had passed.

Russia turns around one last time, only to see that the staircase is gone. He spins back and follows Louisiana out. He feels eyes aimed at the back of his head. The path is a lot more overgrown than he remembered it being just minutes ago.

Some of the marked trees teeter on sheer cliffs and ledges that Russia knows they hadn't passed. It takes them much longer to return to the car than it had to get to the stairs and they had almost gotten lost several times because of impossibly large gaps between marked trees and impassible roadblocks that Russia was sure that he would've noticed on the journey down.

Miraculously, they all retreat to the car alive. The sun hangs high in the sky.

'Wait...' Russia thinks, squinting and watching the bright blue sky, 'It is the afternoon. We weren't gone that long.'

Russia wants to deny any absurd amount of time that passed until he pulls out his phone and sees the time difference.

'I know the walk had taken a while, but it should have taken an hour at most...'

"How long do you think it took to walk down there?" Russia asks, holding his voice steady.

"Only a few minutes, eh? And the walk back maybe an hour. Why?" Canada replies.

"Look at the time."

"It's 3:30. Wait, 3:30!?" Canada exclaims, his hands grabbing for his hat, and he nearly smacks a nearby tree with his hockey stick.

Texas ducks to avoid being hit, his hand clutching his hat. Massachusetts chuckles at Texas' grumbling.

Then, Texas' shoulders slump, and his eyes fixate on his boots. Louisiana and Massachusetts don't seem too surprised. Both just seem to make a mental note of the time difference and leave it at that.

Russia grabs Texas' shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

Texas looks away, hiding his face under the brim of his face. Russia sighs, but he doesn't feel like there was much more he could do. They all go back into the car, and Canada begins driving back in the direction they had come.

Although no one voices it, Russia knows that no one would speak up against an early retreat. His mind spins.

'What was that?'

Chapter Text

America shoots up, breathing heavily.

'It's dark.'

His head swivels around, only to be met with more black. He feels around for the devices, only to come away shaking and empty-handed. He forces out a laugh, trying to shake away the flashes of memories before he ended up here.

Gnarled, bony fingers. Spinning. Black.

America rubs the sore marks on his shoulder with his free arm.

'Now, I'm here in some musty room with no supplies and water dripping on my head. Ewww...'

He wipes the moisture off his face with a disgusted noise. Putting his hands in front of him, he slowly stands and feels around for a wall to follow.

'I probably look like a zombie,' America thinks with a smile.

'Man, I liked the snacks I had in that bag. I wonder where it went...'

He shuffles forward, and his fingertips meet a rocky surface. He carefully walks along the wall, gently brushing his hands against the rigged surface beside him. 

His eyes are still wide open, trying desperately to see anything. Then, a red light, no bigger than a pea, blinks in front of him. 

'Wait...'

It's around 8ft in the air and turns off just as suddenly as it had appeared.

America jumps out of surprise and stares at the spot. He waits a few moments, and it flashes again.

"What the fuck?" he mutters.

The crackling of speakers echoes against cave walls. America's head swivels around.

'Why does it have to be so fucking dark?!'

His eyes began to burn due to the strain of trying to focus on nothing at all.

"Now that's not a very nice word, now is it?" a voice cooed sardonically from above.

"Who the fuck are you? And where am I?" America shouts to the ceiling. 

America flinches at the way his voice wavers.

'I can't let some creep know I'm scared.'

Chilling laughter floats from the speaker, which America decides must be right around where the flashing light is. America glares up at the dot's location but flinches every time it flashes into view.

"You're in a maze," the voice answers with a smug tone.

Before America can say another word, the speaker's crackling stops.

Silence. 

'The loudest noise on the planet is the silence of being ignored,' America muses.

The only sounds left to accompany him are his own breathing and the distant echo of dripping water. America could've sworn he heard distant footsteps, but he can't be sure. America's hands tremble, and he clenches them into fists.

"For the kids... for Russ. I can't panic now," he mumbles with a shaky breath.

He takes a deep breath and unclenches one hand, trying desperately to remember anything that could help.

'Magic.'

America pauses before throwing his hands in the air out of exasperation.

'Wow, I can be an idiot.'

America summons it from his chest and lays his other hand on the cold, unfeeling stone. There is a slight pull near his heart, and he feels familiar warmth rush to his hand. A glow grows from his palm, forming a small light.

It's dim, about as bright as a Zippo lighter would have been.

America waits for his eyes to adjust to the area now bathed in a pale blue hue. The glow casts long shadows into the crevices of the rock walls.

"Now to find a way out of here," America mumbles, "I have a crazy guy to kick in the balls."

Chapter Text

Russia hurriedly pulls in. As soon as the car stops moving, the teens run out and hurry inside. Once consolidated in one room, Massachusetts pulls out his phone and types aggressively before putting it up to his ear.

Russia, Texas, and Canada sit back on the couch. Louisiana sits on the floor nearby, her legs crossed. Massachusetts paces in front of the couch, one arm crossed over his chest and the other tightly wound up his neck.

"Hey, Pothead," Massachusetts demands, "What the hell going on in your state?"

Russia watches, curious.

"You know exactly what I am talking about! The stairs, the freaky monster thing that chased us. The car stopped by itself! ... Yes, we're all okay and back at the hotel. Yup. Well, you can thank Russia for that... We left before sunrise for the mountains-"

Massachusetts scowls.

"Don't interrupt me! We were in the mountains before sunrise, and suddenly something began to chase us. I couldn't really see what it was because when it got close, the car turned off, and all the lights flickered out," Massachusetts says, waving his hand to punctuate the sentence.

Russia finds himself nodding along to the story.

"Russia was driving and he got the car started again after I tried to repel whatever the fuck that was. It was like something was holding us... Uh-huh. Yeah... We sped off... There was a lot of swerving, but no one was hurt, and I didn't see any damage to the car..."

A brief pause filled by Massachusetts' face scrunching weirdly.

"No driving in the daAark," Massachusetts whines mockingly, "Maybe you should've told us that before we left! Besides, we also went a few minutes into the forest to a weird carpeted staircase. Took way longer to get back. Yeah, bye."

Massachusetts pockets the phone with a huff before straddling the arm of the couch next to Russia.

"I'm hungry," Canada says flippantly.

With that, they go back into the car to get something to eat.

On the way, Russia continues to see odd shapes on the edges of the headlights. He decides against stopping.

Eventually, they settle on a pizza restaurant in the more populated area around their hotel. Usually, Russia would be a little annoyed by the background chatter, but now he finds it almost comforting.

'It is a reminder that we are not here alone.'

Looking at the states, Russia notices that Texas is staring out the window and seems lost in thought. His hands fidget on the table. Russia kicks Texas' foot lightly, and Texas' head jerks up, eyes wide.

"What?" Texas questions, looking around.

"Are you okay?" Russia asks, reaching out a hand hesitantly.

Texas chuckles. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little high-strung."

"We all made it back okay," Canada affirms, "Just you eat before we leave, eh?"

Texas grabs a few slices of pizza to munch on. After eating, they settle back at the hotel for a quiet night.

The next morning, they make sure to wait until sunrise before leaving. However, instead of leaving their clothes in the room like before, they decide to pack them and throw their bags into the back of the car.

Russia texts New York to inform him of their decision. New York replies quickly, promising the bill is covered, and he recommends Russia tell the stewardess at the front desk that they were checking out. Then, after a quick stop for coffee and snacks, they are back on their way back into the mountains.

Russia watches the windshield from the backseat. Canada is driving with Massachusetts as his navigator, and they meander their way to a motel through the monotonous stretch of forest. Massachusetts scans around the area, his hands and eyes glowing a faint green.

After a few hours, Massachusetts signals Canada to stop, and Canada pulls over onto the shoulder. As soon as the car stopped, they all hop out, weapons in hand.

Russia follows Massachusetts onto a ledge overlooking an ocean of trees. The ledge is rocky, and the trees tamper off. Only crumbling rock remains across the edge.

The road is not visible, but Russia can still hear the occasional car passing by. His hair stands on end.

"Something's here," Massachusetts mumbles, scratching his head, "Maybe it's under the edge?"

Russia takes a few steps forward, his heart pounding.

'We need to get away from here.'

Massachusetts walks around to the cliffside, dancing along the unstable ground.

Then, there's movement from the treeline. Russia spins around to face it.

It looks like a person walking along the treeline.

'Who is that? And what are they doing here?'

Russia examines them, but he can't make out any flag or facial features. However, he can see the way its shoulders rise and fall. The movement doesn't look natural.

'That is too measured to be a person. It's like it isn't breathing at all.'

It begins stalking toward them.

Russia stiffens and hisses to get the others' attention, who turn around to see what is going on.

The thing gives a slow, exaggerated wave. Where its face should be is smooth skin. Russia's heart sinks. It wears human clothes, but it lacks a flag. It walks toward them, its steps measured and even.

'Shit. What is that thing?'

Russia holds his crowbar tightly. Canada stands beside him with his hockey stick ready.

Suddenly, the thing spins around. It falls back onto its hands; its spine audibly snaps. It rushes at them, crawling like a spider. Its joints crackle and bend in ways that a normal human's joints simply couldn't.

Russia hears Louisiana squeak. Texas tries firing at the thing's head, but it moves too quickly for him to get a clear shot. Russia swings his crowbar with all the force he can muster.

A low ringing emits from the crowbar. The thing tumbles back. It seems to glare at them. Russia tenses. Then, it whips around them and to the cliff's edge. It stands and hops off.

Russia listens.

There isn't a single noise indicating where it had landed if it had hit the ground at all.

"We need to go. Now," Russia states, watching the nervous gazes of the teens.

They rush out of the area, following Louisiana's marks back to the car. Thankfully, the path remains unchanged. They hurry back into their seats, and Canada quickly pulls away as Russia is still buckling his seatbelt in the middle row.

The ride starts quiet, tense. But it slowly calms. Russia lets out a breath and listens to the murmurings in the car from Texas' headphones and the back row. Massachusetts directs Canada from the front seat, glowing green.

Louisiana is talking to someone.

'Wait. She is next to an empty seat. Who is she talking to?'

Russia turns around and sees a transparent figure sitting in the once empty seat.

He turns back and glances at Texas to gauge his reaction, only to see Texas flash him a small smile.

"Don't worry about it," Texas assures, moving an earbud, "she's just trying to get information from the spirits that are around here."

Texas replaces his earpiece and Russia turns back to watch the trees. The rest of the drive goes without incident, and they arrive at the motel around 4:30 PM. Oddly, when Russia tries to check them into two rooms, the clerk denies his request, stating that there was only one room available for use at the time.

'That's weird. There's no one else around.'

Still, he decides not to argue.

'There are no other motels around for miles.'

Russia has second thoughts the entire way to the room. The outer walls and hallway are unkempt and dirty.

The room isn't any better. The connected bathroom smells of mold, and the room's furniture is stained.

Russia sits down on the cleaner-looking floor and snacks with the states and Canada on the food they had brought with them while the TV is playing softly in the background. Eventually, due to his fatigue, Russia caves in and lies back on one of the beds with Texas and Massachusetts sitting on the edge.

Half an hour later, Canada and Louisiana settle on the other bed, and Russia falls into a restless sleep with Texas on one side and Massachusetts on the other.

A few hours later, Russia wakes up to someone jabbing him in the ribs. He turns over to see a wide-eyed Texas sitting up, trying to get his attention.

"What's going on?" Russia asks sleepily.

Texas puts a finger to his lips before pointing to the window.

Russia turned to look and sees a gnarled hand against the window, illuminated by the moon above. The only problem with that is that they are staying on the second floor, and the window was on the opposite side of the building from the door and stairs.

The hand is about twice the size of anything that would have passed as a human. The long, spindly figures tap rhythmically against the windowpane.

'Magic? It has to be. That isn't a person.'

Russia shakes Massachusetts and Massachusetts looks up at him, annoyed.

"Asshole, I just got to sleep."

Russia shushes him and points to the window. Massachusetts looks up and pauses.

"Is there anything you can do?" Russia whispers.

Massachusetts shakes his head.

"I don't think so. We'll just have to wait," Massachusetts mutters before turning back and falling back asleep.

Russia sits up and watches the hand as it continues its strange performance. He looks on for a few hours, monitoring its movement. Then, he feels something nudge his shoulder. Russia looks over to see Texas trying to stay awake, his head bobbing to the side.

"You can go back to sleep," Russia whispers.

"But-"

Russia shushes him.

Texas relents and lies back down. Russia sits up for the rest of the night, and he watches the hand retreat as dawn breaks. When sunlight soaks the curtains around the window, he feels his eyelids droop.

He drifts off soon after.

Chapter Text

Russia wakes up to the ringing of his phone next to his head. He sits up and sees the other occupants of the room are already awake. He turns his attention back to his phone and flips it over.

'New York.'

Listless, he answers.

"Hello?" Russia grumbles, yawning

"Hey, Russia. Sorry if I woke you up, but I wanted to contact you before you go. I take it this has not gone well?"

"It has not," Russia mumbles, rubbing his face, "Do you have any suggestions?"

"Suggestions? Yes. Investigate reports of weird noises and disappearances from some caves around there. If they are hiding out somewhere, it's probably going to be somewhere in the caverns."

"Okay. Thank you."

New York hangs up, and Russia sits back.

'Caves?'

'It makes sense,' he figures, 'it would be a good place to hide out away from most other people.'

Then, his phone buzzes. Picking it up, he sees that New York had sent a few links to a few articles describing the reports he had mentioned.

"What was that about?" Canada asks.

"New York called to tell us to start investigating the cave systems. He said that it is likely that it is where the countries may be kept," Russia replies with a yawn.

"That makes sense," Massachusetts comments, "and searching in the mountains has only led to trouble."

They quickly pack their belongings into the car and hurry out.

The clerk watches them passively with a furrowed brow and dead eyes.

'Did he expect something to have happened to us?'

Russia shivers, and he stares at the wall next to the clerk's head. Canada steps up beside him.

"We are here to check out. How much for the room?"

The clerk doesn't answer, just staring at them with a blank expression. Canada offers a strained smile and digs through his wallet. He pulls out a handful of bills, both American and Canadian, and drops them on the desk.

Russia turns around to lead the group back out to the car. He makes sure not to turn his back entirely on the clerk behind the counter. He can feel the clerk's eyes staring a hole into his back.

Texas hops into the driver's seat, and Russia settles into the passenger seat, prepping to navigate as the others throw bags into the trunk.

'It smells better in here than in the room. I don't taste mold.'

Texas pulls out of the parking lot as soon as everyone is in their seats, too impatient to wait for them to fasten their seatbelts. A few minutes down the road, they stop for gas before taking off into the mountains once again.

"That clerk was creepy, eh?" Canada comments from the backseat.

Russia nods.

"It looked like he knew something," Louisiana comments, suspicion in her voice.

"I wonder what that would be," Massachusetts grumbles sarcastically.

Texas nods in agreement, his eyes darting to the trees.

"What's got you so jumpy, Tex?" Louisiana asks.

Texas tightens his grip on the wheel.

"Last night. I woke up to a weird noise only to see a hand tapping on the window. A hand! We were on the second floor." Texas exclaims, throwing a hand in the air.

Louisiana inhales sharply and whips around to face Massachusetts.

"Did you know about this?" Louisiana exclaims.

"They woke me up for it," Massachusetts says sourly, crossing his arms, "it's not like we could do anything about it."

Louisiana scowls but doesn't argue.

"I think we should head for the less commercialized of the caves. The populated area has too much risk," Russia says, interrupting the awkward silence.

Texas hums in agreement.

"Where are we going?" Canada inquires.

"It's a cave system that people do not visit," Russia replies blandly.

Texas snorts.

"No, I mean, do you have a specific one in mind?"

"Oh. Yes. It doesn't have a name."

"Sounds good enough to me," Texas cuts in, "so, where are we headed?"

"You need to turn around once you can pull over," Russia instructs, and Texas nods in acknowledgment.

"How far away is it?" Massachusetts asks.

"It will take several hours, but it is the best we can do," Russia replies.

He hears a groan from the backseat, but he decides to ignore it.

"Are we gonna be stopping anywhere before the caves?" Louisiana questions.

"There is a hotel near the caves," Russia announces, looking at his phone.

"So we're gunning it," Texas summarizes.

Russia nods, and Texas sighs but doesn't stop. After a few minutes, Texas pulls over and turns around.

"You are going to follow this road, and then go left when the road splits," Russia instructs.

The drive is smooth under the sun. Canada takes over driving at dusk, and for the first few hours after sundown, it's quiet.

'Something isn't right.'

Texas curls up in a ball, sleeping in the seat behind Russia, and Massachusetts stares out the window behind Canada. Lousiana sits in the backseat, dozing off.

Russia keeps his eyes out for anything unusual, and he spots something strange in the middle of the road. The car slows again, and Canada puts it in a lower gear.

"What is that?" Canada mutters, leaning forward and squinting at the silhouette.

Massachusetts looks up and his eyes go wide.

"Just drive past it," Massachusetts whispers back, alarmed, "now."

The car crawls forward. Russia nudges Canada's arm.

"We need to go," Russia insists, taking nervous glances at the lump of shadow.

Canada doesn't acknowledge him, staring blankly at the creature as it begins to unfold itself. Tens of thousands of limbs seem to stretch out from the darkness.

"Canada!" Massachusetts exclaims, "Fucking go!"

It unfurls, and its whole body lights up with small, pale red eyes. Russia's heart skips a beat and sinks into his stomach. He frantically shoves Canada's shoulder.

"Go!" Russia demands, his voice booming.

Canada jumps and the car jerks forward suddenly. Russia's back slams into his seat. Canada swerves around the creature and the engine roars. He barely manages to avoid the guard rail. Louisiana shouts something and Massachusetts shrieks.

"We're gonna go flying off the road!" Texas screams, clawing at the handle above the door.

"Slow down!" Russia shouts above the chaos.

Canada slams on his brakes. Russia flies forward and chokes when his seatbelt locks. The tires screech and the car began to spin. He slams back into the seat once the car comes to a stop. Russia's head spins, and he tries to orient himself.

Canada must have regained control last minute because they were still facing the correct direction on the road and hadn't tumbled over the railing. Russia's chest shakes as he gasps.

"Okay, I vote that Canada is not allowed to drive anymore," Massachusetts calls, poking his head around the back of the passenger seat.

"I second that!" Texas exclaims, his hands still clamped on the handle and clutching his hat.

"We have to get out of here before we can change anything." Louisiana points out.

"But-" Texas exclaims.

"No, I ain't letting nobody open a God damn door until we get away from whatever that thing was," Louisiana insists.

'Canada is shaking,' Russia notices.

"I will drive now," Russia states.

"That really don't sound anything like a good idea," Louisiana argues.

"We cannot stay here," Russia replies, "Canada is shaking."

Louisiana scowls and crosses her arms.

"I will be quick," Russia says before turning to Canada, "crawl over the center console as soon as I get out."

Canada nods silently.

Russia exits the car. The night air is cold, biting at his face. He almost sighs at the familiarity. He walks briskly in front of the headlights and tries to ignore the strange electric and smoky taste in the wind. He quickly sits in the driver's seat and restarts the car.

Canada mutters apologies into his hands.

'Do I say something? I should probably say something.'

"It is okay," Russia says.

"Yeah, Uncle Nada. You just ain't allowed to be driving again," Louisiana chimes in with a nervous giggle.

"I don't think any of you will let me, eh?" Canada jokes.

"Hell no!" Texas exclaims.

They laugh. The laughter reminds Russia of America when he would try to calm himself down.

'The states could learn something like that from their parent.'

As he pulls off into the hotel's general area, Russia sleepily looks around the shops and gas stations.

'We could pick up supplies before leaving again.'

Canada gets them checked into the nice-looking hotel, and Russia stumbles to the larger of the rooms. Massachusetts and Louisiana follow in behind him and claim the beds, and Russia settles on the pull-out couch.

Russia can barely keep his eyes open long enough to set up the blankets, and he completely gives up on the sheet. He falls into it, trying to ignore his headache long enough to fall asleep.

'I hope America is okay.'

Chapter Text

The morning starts with the sounds of shuffling and muffled laughter. Russia scrunches his nose.

He tries to sit up, only to meet resistance. He groans in annoyance and tries again to move. He hears a few things hit the floor and the coffee table. Laughter swells as he sits up. Several bundles fall into his lap.

Russia rubs his eyes and sees Texas nearly on the ground, laughing hysterically. Louisiana laughs almost as hard, leaning against Texas.

'What?'

Russia looks around a little more, blinking away the blurry haze over the world. Massachusetts smirks at him from his left, his arms crossed. Canada averts his gaze, trying to cover the smile on his face. Russia sighs, but finds himself smiling nonetheless. His lap is full of soap, empty bags, and laundry.

"What were you doing?"

Massachusetts chuckles. "They were seeing how high they could stack things on your head before you woke up."

"Don't be pretending that you didn't help," Louisiana says with a giggle, shoving Massachusetts' shoulder playfully.

Massachusetts rolls his eyes, but his smile sticks. Russia looks back at Canada, only to see Canada shrug.

"We regrouped earlier but you weren't awake. We are also leaving today, eh?"

Russia sighs and goes into the bathroom to clean himself up before they leave. Then, he leads the trek back to the car, his bag slung over his shoulder.

After a short time, Russia pulls off into some of the nearby shops, picking up some rope, coffee, lots of snacks, batteries, flashlights, and other supplies. Russia shoves as much as he can fit in his bag before tossing back into the car.

Canada spends several minutes trying addresses that would bring them close to their destination, only to give up. Instead, he begins to read the description of the location aloud. Eventually, Russia drives to the closest place to the cave that the road would allow.

Russia pulls the car off of the road onto a gravel shoulder. He steps out and slings his backpack over his shoulder. Glancing at his phone, only to find no reception. He scrolls through the articles and follows the vague accounts of deer trails leading into a rocky wall. He locks the car and tucks the keys into the innermost pocket of his backpack.

Pulling out a compass, Russia tries to make sense of the directions listed by one of the hikers who reported the strange activity.

'The entrance is below the road, somewhere in the trees.'

Pulling his crowbar from the side straps, he scales the 3-meter drop from the road to the ground below. Canada jumps down next to him, rolling to a stop.

Looking back up, Russia sees Texas jumping down, but Massachusetts seems unsure of what to do.

"Jump. If you do not know how to land, I will catch you."

Massachusetts nods and Russia walks forward and readies himself. Massachusetts jumps. Russia catches Massachusetts by the waist and lowers him to the ground.

Massachusetts mutters a quiet "thank you" before hurriedly walking over to Texas and Canada.

"Would you catch me too?" Louisiana asks from the guardrail, and Russia nods, reaching out his arms.

Louisiana walks forward and jumps down, her bright yellow dress fluttering around her knees as she falls. Russia manages to catch her by her hips, and quickly lowers her down, apologizing for his hands' placement. Russia feels his face go red, and his eyes focus on the dirt.

Louisiana giggles, playfully smacking his shoulder.

"Thanks, Russ. And sides, it's fine. Was better than hitting the ground."

Russia walks ahead, compass in hand, and Louisiana marks every other tree they pass on their journey down the forested abyss. They did take a few breaks on their way, and Massachusetts led them down a few detours to avoid anything that seemed too out of place. Russia is thankful for it, considering what they had run into on previous trips into the trees.

After a few hours of hiking, Russia spots something against the mountainside.

'What is that?'

Russia squints against the sun.

"Do you see that too?" Canada asks.

"Looks like we found what we're looking for," Texas comments.

With that, they climb their way to the cave entrance.

Russia finds himself staring at the opening because it seems to expand with every step. It takes a few moments for the others to catch up to Russia, grouping up around him.

'This is unsettling.'

With a torch in one hand and a crowbar in the other, Russia walks inside.

The moment he enters, the temperature drops. It smells moist, and the humidity sticks to Russia's skin. Looking forward, he spots the circles of the flashlights gliding against the back of the cavern.

'Like a bunch of spotlights.'

"Wait," Massachusetts says, waving a hand back, "before we go too far, we should figure out how we are going find our way back out."

'That's a good idea.'

Russia herds the states back to the entrance.

"Do you have something in mind? Magic isn't gonna be too reliable," Louisiana comments, arms crossed.

Canada laughs and pulls out a cylinder of something Russia can't make out from his backpack.

"What is that?" Russia asks.

"String, we can tie it to one of these trees and leave a trail to follow back. We'll have to rewind it on our way back, but it'll help, eh?"

"Why'd you have that?" Texas asks, looking completely baffled.

Canada shrugs with a grin. Texas laughs and holds open hands to Canada, who hands him the spool. Texas walks over and ties it tightly around the tree closest to the entrance before stepping back and returning it to Canada.

"Is everyone ready?" Russia asks.

His question is met with affirmation.

Russia, with his head high, sets back his shoulders and walks forward into the dark. He hears the quiet sounds of footsteps and the string being unraveled as they journey into the ill-lit cavity. The stones' cover begins to surround them, and the light from the sun outside grows infinitely fainter.

"It's cold," Louisiana mutters, rubbing her arms.

"Did you bring a jacket?" Canada asks.

"Yes, it's just hard to dig out of my bag."

Russia stops. "We will stop. Get out what you need."

It is still bright enough to see, so Russia switches off his flashlight and waits while both Louisiana and Texas pull out light sweatshirts.

'It doesn't feel cold, but the southern states would be less tolerant of the lower temperatures.'

Once both states had their packs back on, Russia waves them forward.

They continue, leaving behind memories of sunlight and warmth, and trudging into the wet gloom ahead.

With every movement, Russia listens to the stones and water his feet displace, and he watches as his surroundings become murkier. It doesn't take long for the outside world to feel unreachable. Russia finds himself slowing down, and he focuses on not losing his footing against the slick floors of the hollow.

The air smells of moisture and dust. There is the dripping of water ahead, and the only parts that Russia can see are illuminated in small circles that roam around the room, partially blocked by the explorers' silhouettes.

'This is going to be an adventure.'

Chapter Text

A musty odor fills Russia's nose as he treks through the underground maze. Long cylinders of light catch on dust in the air, making him wish he had a face mask. His ears zone into the small splashing around them, adding to the now apparent cacophony of their footsteps.

An impossibly loud squeak causes Russia to swivel around, his flashlight searching for the source. He finds a stumbling Massachusetts fumbling with one of his books, old and leather-bound, its color faded and uneven.

Russia reaches out and catches him by the shoulder, using his light to steady the book.

"Careful."

Massachusetts scoffs.

They turn left, right, and down snaking passageways where medieval touches would not look out of place in. The air smells like soot and rot, and the smell vaguely lingers in pockets of stale, wet air, just barely noticeable over the smell of dead water creeping through creases in the rock.

Russia stops the group in an area that looks almost like a bedroom. Four flat walls and a level ceiling. It feels cramped here. The room isn't small, but it feels suffocating. Or maybe it's just the smell in the air.

Russia feels his hair stand on end, and he looks around the room. Something catches his eye in the upper corner of the room, but as soon as he turns to look at it more closely, it's gone.

Russia stares at the spot for a few more seconds, and he sees it again.

A small red light blinks sluggishly in the dark corners.

"Whatcha lookin' at, Russ?" Texas asks.

"There is something up there. I do not know what it is, but it has a red light."

"You saw that too? I thought I was just imagining things," Louisiana comments.

"But what is it?" Canada asks, pointing his flashlight up to illuminate the source of the red glimmer.

Russia does the same, and the torches reveal a small device mounted into the rock. Something on it reflects their light with a dull white sheen.

'Glass? What would be down here reflecting that?'

He looks closer.

'I thought it was red...'

"Is that a camera?" Massachusetts asks.

"I don't know, but we're about to find out," Texas replies, tossing a rock around in his hand.

Texas launches the rock at the gleaming metal on the wall. The stone hits it with a crunch. The device disconnects from its mount and falls to the floor.

Russia walks over to investigate and sees the lens of a camera staring back at him.

He stares at it for a moment. His heart sinks.

'Someone is watching us.'

Suddenly, the camera begins to make strange noises, like someone blowing into a microphone.

Russia jumps back.

"Hasn't your mother ever told you not to break other people's things?" a male voice croons through static.

Russia's heart skips a beat, and he shuffles in between the device and the states.

"Who are you?" Russia demands, baring his teeth.

"I am your new friend," the voice answers sarcastically, "but, I must say, you five certainly are entertaining to watch."

"How long have you been watching us?" Canada hisses at the camera, eyes narrowed.

"For as long as I have wanted."

"You know damn well that you ain't answerin' any of our questions!" Texas spits, frustration filling his face.

The noise suddenly stops, and the room falls silent.

"Real funny, asshole," Massachusetts snaps, his arms crossed across his chest.

"I say we smash it," Texas says, looking at Russia for permission. Russia nods in agreement.

Texas walks swiftly around Russia and stomps down on the camera before kicking it into a nearby wall. The camera hits the wall with a loud crack, and the light goes dim.

"Was he expecting us or something?" Canada pounders aloud.

"Why else do you think it would be there?!" Massachusetts snaps in response, jerking his hand to gesture to the pile of metal against the wall.

"Calm down," Texas chides, 

"Shut up!"

"Your yellin' ain't gonna help nobody."

The group falls into an uncomfortable silence.

"We should keep going," Russia mutters, "Standing here isn't going to find America."

"How do we even know Dad's here?" Massachusetts growls.

"Mass!" Louisiana exclaims.

"Okay, everyone needs to calm down," Canada says.

"We won't know if we don't look," Russia counters.

"I know you are upset, but so are we. Getting angry at us is not going to help. Whoever was talking to us was trying to irritate us. We need to keep searching," Russia says, his tone calm and shoulders back.

"But that son-of-a-bitch is still watching us!" Massachusetts shouts.

"It is not as if he was not watching us before. We are in no immediate danger, so we have to search as thoroughly as we can," Russia replies, his tone serious.

Massachusetts goes quiet for a movement.

"Okay," Massachusetts mutters begrudgingly, "...and I'm sorry for arguing," he says quietly, crossing his arms and looking away.

"It's alright," Canada assures him, "just try not to do it again."

Russia backs the states out of the room, his gaze locked on the camera. He herds them out with an arm, snarling at the broken device.

"How should we mark which places we have already searched?" Russia hisses.

"I have some colored tape," Louisiana volunteers.

Russia turns to see her placing her backpack down with her light in her mouth. He waits, tapping his foot. Then, he straightens her back victoriously. She quickly repacks her supplies and hols up a shiny pink roll of tape.

She throws her backpack back on and hands her light to Texas. Then, she tears off a strip. She places it next to the opening. The piece is small and rectangular, sticking strangely to the uneven walls of the cavern.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Louisiana replies.

Texas and Massachusetts have taken to destroying any cameras they come across. Russia can't force himself to reprime the teens. It isn't a good idea to continue smashing the devices, but he understands why the two felt the need to cause destruction.

Russia snacks on a bag of chips that he had gotten earlier in the day, occasionally handing a few over to Louisiana.

Canada stops and shines his flashlight toward the floor. Russia walks over and notices Canada peeking through at something below.

"There's something down there," Canada comments, moving his flashlight to illuminate a crack at his feet.

Russia leans over and sees a mass that didn't resemble the rocks around it. It is too dark, and it seems too smooth to be just another rock down the tunnel.

Suddenly, Russia hears someone running up behind him. He whips up in alarm and he sees Massachusetts yanking Canada's flashlight away.

"Get up!" he demands in a whisper, urgency in his voice.

Russia slowly backpetals.

"Don't get its attention. I don't know what it is, but it's definitely not what we are looking for," Massachusetts whispers hastily, pulling Canada back.

Russia relents and backs up with him, feeling confused, but he decides to trust Massachusetts' judgment. Texas and Massachusetts share a look, and Louisiana nods.

"We should keep moving," Lousiana mutters.

"But-" Canada says.

"Uncle, we should go," Texas hisses, his eyes narrow.

'I wonder what that is.'

His face scrunches.

'I don't think I want to know.'

Monitoring his surroundings, Russia hears something unfamiliar, the sound bouncing off the cavern walls. He strains his ears and listens for something under the sounds of footsteps.

'Is that... whispering?'

"What is that?" Russia mumbles.

The states stop.

"What's what?" Louisiana asks.

"The whispering. Do you hear it?"

Canada stops, and Russia can hear the whispers more clearly in the absence of footfalls. Still, he can't understand what they are saying.

"Where is that coming from?" Canada utters, turning and shining his light against the slick rocks surrounding them.

Russia walks forward, trying to follow the voices to their source, but finds that no matter what direction he moves in, the volume doesn't change.

'It is as if the walls themselves are speaking in an unknown tongue.'

Then, a new sound. It is subtle at first, but Russia can hear the rocks start shifting. Some pebbles rain down upon them from an invisible ceiling.

The whispers take on tones of urgency.

"We need to leave," Massachusetts says.

Canada takes the lead, gathering the string trail as fast as he can, crumpling the stands into his hands and around the flashlight. The strings cast strange shadows against the dark, shaking walls. Russia urges the states forward, stepping behind them and out of the winding tunnel.

'I can't let any of them fall behind.'

The harsh whispering follows them as they rush back to the entrance of the cavern. Larger stones begin falling all around them, crashing to the ground.

It smells like earth and dust.

Russia yelps in pain, crumpling to the floor like a marionette without strings, a pulsing pain erupting from the top of his head. He manages to stumble back to his feet and continues running. The world spins.

'I can't stop. I can't.'

'I have to make sure the states get out safely.'

He haphazardly wipes away some of the blood with the back of his hand. The world stained red.

Falling rocks. Rushing water. Harsh heartbeat. Unrelenting screaming. A desynchronized symphony of destruction.

Faint daylight streams through a curtain of rock. Russia sprints. The air shifts. Canada runs right into the path of a falling boulder.

"Stop!" Russia shouts.

Canada freezes. 

The stone plummets. 

Canada looks back just in time for the rock to hit the ground with a rumbling thud. The sound of the stone colliding with the ground is deafening. Russia's ears ring.

The whispering stops.

The walls still.

Dust floats in the air, stifling the light that manages to slip in between the rocks. A suffocating pause settles on the group, and Russia stares at the sliver of light. 

The only cracks that remain are far too small to crawl through.

Russia coughs and leans over, griping the cut. Dust and blood stick to him like paper mache. He groans.

"Are you okay?" Louisiana asks from his left.

"I was hit by one of the rocks. My head is bleeding," Russia mumbles, glancing at his grey hand, gleaming red shining through the cracks.

Massachusetts curses.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Canada states reassuringly, "here. Russia, sit down. I'll help you. Lean your head back."

Russia sits back and flinches when he feels water running down his face and forehead. Then, someone gently wipes away the grim. 

Russia opens his eyes. The red glare is almost completely washed out, only occasionally clouding his periphery. He blinks it away. Canada stands in front of him, prodding lightly at his head.

"There," Canada says, taking a step back, "all fixed."

Russia stands slowly and notices Canada's shaking hands. He looks behind Canada and stares up at the wall of stone.

Chapter Text

"No. NO!"

Texas rushes forward and punches the rocks in vain. The sounds shatter the silence like glass. He throws his hat down into the dust and howls in rage. The anger and grief echo through the caverns.

Louisiana quietly weeps into her hands and Canada tries to calm her, but the panic in his voice is too apparent to be successful.

Massachusetts is ranting, reciting profanity that Russia would've tried to add to his English vocabulary if he didn't feel frozen, staring at the unmoving wall of rock.

"How are we going to get out now? How the fuck are we going to get out now?!" Massachusetts shouts.

It's only now that Russia notices the tears streaming down the teen's face. Russia feels his heart sink, and he clenches his hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

"Is there any way that we can move the rocks?" Russia asks.

'Good. Steady voice. We need to stay calm.'

"I guess that I could try to use magic," Massachusetts suggests, his voice hoarse, "but it probably won't work. It can only seem to lift things that I can physically lift myself."

"Try it," Russia urges.

'Maybe it could work.'

Russia shakes his head, trying not to allow his hopes to get too high.

Canada herds the other states back, and Russia backs up to join them, giving Massachusetts enough room to work. Russia watches carefully.

Massachusetts swipes at the dust on his face with the back of a hand and takes a deep breath. He sets his shoulders back and raises his head, his gaze forward and determined. He mutters under his breath in a tongue that Russia can't decipher and performs a few strange hand gestures.

His hands began to glow a bright green color. Russia watches as the teen outstretches his now glowing hands toward the boulders. The rocks glow faintly, and Massachusetts pants from exertion.

"Come on. Come on! You can do it!" Texas cheers, throwing a fist in the air and retrieving his hat from the dusty terrain.

'Please.'

"Please work," Canada pleads.

Massachusetts groans in pain, and the glow begins to falter.  Massachusetts himself begins to shake.

'Oh no.'

"Please. Please. Please, please, please," Massachusetts mumbles horsely.

Massachusetts screws his eyes shut, and tears carve canyons into the dust stuck to his face. He cries out in pain but doesn't put his hands down.

'Something's wrong.'

"Mach?" Texas calls from behind Canada's arm, concern dripping from the word.

Russia reaches out to Massachusetts to help him just as Massachusetts lets out another cry of pain. The teen hunches over with a groan, but he slowly stands again. One of his hands remains outstretched, but the other is wrapped around his torso as if to alleviate pain.

"Massachusetts! Stop!" Louisiana shouts. 

Canada grabs her to keep her from running to Massachusetts' side. Russia walks up to Massachusetts' side, concern growing in his chest. He swallows the lump in his throat.

Massachusetts hisses through grit teeth. The light surrounding the stones flickers wildly and seems to spark. Russia reaches forward and tries to forcefully lower Massachusetts' hand. Massachusetts pushes back.

"No!" he screams, "no, I have to keep trying. Please, Russia. I can't give up! I can't."

"You're hurting yourself," Russia replies calmly, "you need to stop."

Massachusetts chokes on a sob and throws his hand down. The glow dissipates. 

The rocks haven't moved a centimeter.

"I don't feel very good," Massachusetts mumbles before he pitches forward.

'Shit!'

Russia lunges forward and catches him under the arm. Russia sighs.

'That isn't good.'

Russia pulls Massachusetts to his chest and sits down, trying to ignore the dizzying anxiety in his chest. Someone sighs behind him as he settles on the ground, positioning Massachusetts across his lap. In his periphery, he sees Texas drops down and sits beside him.

"Hey, Russ?" Texas asks.

"Yes?"  Russia responds.

"Are we ever gonna get out of here?" Texas inquires, leaning back on his hands, and his legs kicked out in front of him.

"... I don't know. I'm sorry," Russia mutters, avoiding Texas' gaze.

Texas scoffs and pulls his knees to his chest. Louisiana sits beside Texas and lays a hand on his shoulder. Canada sits on Russia's other side.

"What are we going to do now?" Canada asks no one in particular. 

Only the distant clatter of rocks accompanies them.

"Awww!" a crooning voice echoes above.

Russia jerks. Texas is on his feet before Russia even registers what had been said.

'What-'

"Isn't that sweet," the voice teases.

Russia notes that this voice is the same as the voice from the camera. His eyes narrow and his lip curls. Massachusetts in his lap keeps him in place.

"This is your fault, ain't it!?" Texas accuses, pointing to the ceiling.

"Oh, it wasn't me who caused the earthquake per-say, but I can most certainly say that it was a quality performance," the voice cackles.

"We ain't your personal entertainment!" Texas spits.

"I would disagree," the voice responds condescendingly.

Texas snarls. Russia glares up at the source of the noise.

"You're sick," Louisiana hisses to the darkness above, her eyes narrowed into a glare. She pulls out her knife.

"Oh, your knife isn't going to help you here, darling," the voice laughs in response.

The speakers shut off and leave the group seething in silence.

"Come on. We're better off looking for another way out," Canada asks.

His voice sounds shaky, but Russia can't tell if it's from anger or fear. Russia hums in agreement.

'Now what to do with Massachusetts.'

Russia takes off his bag and hands Massachusetts to Texas. He stands up as Texas struggles to his feet with Massachusetts under his arm.

"What's the plan?" Texas asks managing to get to his feet with his brother limp against him.

Russia pulls his bag over his chest.

"Help put him on my back. I will carry him," Russia explains, turning his back on Texas. 

With Texas' help, Russia pulls Massachusetts on his back. 

'I hope we have enough supplies to get out of here.'

"Let's go," Canada says, pointing his light into the much darker abyss.

Russia turns to follow.

'I hope we *can* get out of here.'

Chapter Text

Dixie knew that watching the states and provinces would be exhausting, but he wasn't expecting the meetings with the other countries to be even more difficult.

He is currently sitting quietly and trying to understand how his brothers could stand this. The other countries didn't seem to understand that there was a reason why they were meeting together.

However, it's even worse because he is being disrespected by most of the other countries. The Philippines and the late Soviet Union were the only ones who weren't going out of their way to interrupt or disagree with him. UN watches with his ever-shifting face, a sneer filling his features.

'He must not be happy with the extra members.'

Whenever he tries to speak, whether it be to participate or give reports on the status of Canada or the US, he is talked over. Philippines gives him sheepish looks, and Soviet stays quiet.

He can also hear the increasing volume of the household in the background. He tries to ignore it the best he can.

"Your background should be quiet and respectful," UK grumbles, his hair slicked back.

"Maybe I ain't got a choice!" he exclaims.

"Your slandering of the English language is even worse than America's," UK criticizes.

"Why do y'all even care?" Dixie mutters, frustrated.

"You are slandering my language," UK replies.

"I'm trying my best! Going from nothing to controlling two countries is hard," Dixie argues.

"Well, maybe I should be given charge over my former colonies," UK suggests smugly.

"What?! No," Dixie exclaims, but he feels his stomach tie into knots when the other countries expressions turn contemplative.

"No, United Kingdom. You should not," Soviet says, catching all of their attention.

"Yeah! Dixie's fine!" Philippines defends.

"Really? He sounds rather rude and uneducated," UK says.

Dixie bits back an insult, knowing that screaming would not help his case. Just then, a head pokes out from behind the door. Kentucky looks in, his face showing concern, and Dixie is positive that North Carolina is just behind him.

Kentucky is fairly tall, his curly hair topping his head. He's wide-set, but walks around proudly. Dixie smiles tentatively at the baby-faced state.

"Tuck? Is something wrong?" Dixie asks, his focus switching instantly.

Kentucky walks in with North Carolina at his side and closes the door. North Carolina's face is divided, and the blue in her hair holds streaks of gold. Her red hair brushes against the rest of her face. She stands around as tall as Kentucky, and her wavy hair reaches her chin. Both the states are noticeably taller than America.

"We heard you screaming and got worried," he explains.

"We wanted to make sure you're okay," North Carolina adds.

Dixie sighs.

'These kids are too sweet for their own good.'

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm okay," Dixie soothes.

The pair turns to leave when Dixie remembers something.

"Hey, y'all," he calls, causing them to turn around, "do either of you know who normally does the talking with the other countries when America is unavailable?"

"It's normally Yorky," Kentucky replies, "you want us to get him?"

"If you don't mind," Dixie replies, and the pair leave quickly.

Once the kids go, he brings his attention back to the screen where UK is scolding him for interrupting the meeting.

"You cannot interrupt this meeting. Let alone for some child," UK scolds.

"Those kids were my niece and nephew. I ain't letting anything get in the way of taking care of any of them hooligans," Dixie sneers.

Then the door opens again.

"Heya, Uncle Dixie. You needed New York?" New Jersey asks from the doorway.

Dixie nods, and New Jersey calls down the hall for New York to hurry up.

"You need a state to do your communications work?" UN asks skeptically.

Dixie gives him an annoyed look.

"Yes, sir. None of y'all listen to a word I say, and York's done logistics for y'all before," he replies with his arms crossed.

"Hi, Dixie. What's up?" New York asks, walking in. Dixie sees a lot of faces flash with recognition.

"You mind coming over here and helping me out a bit? These countries ain't listening to a word I say and are trying to take y'all from me," Dixie summarizes.

New York quickly drags a chair over behind the desk, and New Jersey sits in the last available chair on the other side of the desk, watching with interest.

"Okay. Yous got a problem with Dixie?" New York questions.

"Wait, America's assistant is a state?" UK asks, dumbstruck.

"Yes. What of it? Besides, I'm not in charge here, Dixie is," New York defends.

"Why is someone like him your superior?" UK snaps back.

"You don't want to take it there," New York growls, "and if you have know, it's because he'll take care of us, and he's done this before, just not for this long."

"Then maybe he's not-" UK starts.

"WILL YOU SHUT UP!" New York demands, "you listen to me! You get that?! I don't understand how dad could've ever defended you."

New York sighs loudly before continuing, "I don't care if you are a country or a bug, you don't talk smack about my family."

UK looks offended, but Dixie couldn't help but notice Soviet's satisfied and mildly entertained look.

UK begins trying to respond, but New York makes a show of ignoring him, loudly asking Philippines, "Have you gotten the reports about Canada or the US?"

Philippines shakes his head no, a small smile on his face. New York picks up the reports and begins to read them aloud, but Dixie could still hear small criticisms being thrown his way.

"I'm talking here!" New York screams into the microphone, causing most of the countries to flinch.

"Why I have never met someone so rude!" UK proclaims.

"The name's New York. Pleasure to meet you," New York replies sarcastically.

New Jersey cheers.

'I should have done this earlier,' Dixie thinks as he sits back, wishing he had popcorn.

Chapter Text

As they walk deeper into the dark, Russia occasionally looks into the hallways marked off with pink tape.

'Has anything changed?'

He notices that most of the caverns either haven't changed or are blocked off entirely by fallen debris.

'Is there any reason to go back through the areas we have already looked in?'

He decides against the idea until one of the doorways catches his attention.

"Was this always a hallway?" he asks, pointing his torch to a space that looks a lot more open and much darker than it had been.

"What are you talking about? That's a tiny room," Texas says, waving his flashlight at Russia flippantly.

"Not anymore, Tex. Look," Louisiana says as she peers over Russia's arm and into the abyss, waving her hand in front of her.

"What's going on?" Canada asks from further down the cavern, his voice echoing slightly.

"We might wanna go investigating because something weird is going on here," Louisiana answers, "come and look, 'Nada."

Canada's footsteps echo as he walks over.

"Huh," Canada comments, pointing his flashlight into the darkness. The circle of light disappears into the void.

"This was a small space, right?" Texas says, looking to Louisiana.

"I'm pretty sure there haven't been any places we've marked that you couldn't see the end off from the entrance," Canada comments, peeking past the threshold.

"And the length of the tape proves it was small. See, it's short," Louisiana says, pointing at the strip, "the shorter the strip, the less space was in the room."

"Should we go in there?" Canada asks.

"Does the floor look stable?" Russia asks skeptically.

He points his flashlight to the ground and sees several other circles of light join his own, and he can see the surprisingly solid foundation. Then, soft knocking rang out a short distance into the cave. At hearing the noise, he turns to look at his companions to figure out their next move.

"Y'all heard that too, right?" Louisiana asks.

"Yup, and it looks like we decided where we're going," Texas says.

Russia takes a step back to allow Canada to take the lead. Canada strides in confidently with Texas and Louisiana trailing just behind him. Russia follows behind the states, but he keeps his light trained on the floor. He carefully places his feet as to not fall and hurt himself or his passenger.

The knocking follows the left wall, moving forward at the same rate as Canada, which puts Russia on edge.

The knocking itself sounds like someone knocking against a thick, wooden door. Though where that sound was coming from, Russia isn't sure. He also doesn't understand how such a sound is coming from stone walls.

'Just like the whispering,' he thinks, and he tenses.

"What is making that noise? It is the same source as the whispering?" he asks the group, who all freeze.

"Darn it. I didn't think about that," Texas mumbles.

They stop walking and look around cautiously. The knocking continues forward a few paces before it returns to be a meter or so in front of Canada. The states back up around Russia. Canada joins them soon after.

"But it seems to be trying to lead us somewhere," Canada defends.

"I do not think that following this will end very well," Russia replies skeptically.

"Well, what else are we going to do? We already searched most of this place and didn't see anything. 'Sides, we're trapped. We've got nothing left to lose," Texas says with a shrug.

"What about Massachusetts?" Russia asks.

"He's just tired. He'll wake up soon," Louisiana says dismissively.

Russia shakes his head. He turns around to leave. The knocking became more aggressive. When Russia tries to step out. The floor shakes. Russia stumbles back, startled, but regains his footing.

"Okay. We will follow the knocking," Russia reluctantly agrees.

They walk along for a few minutes before Russia hears a hiss behind him. He spins around but sees nothing. Russia bites his tongue.

He begins looking for his crowbar. Making sure to keep one arm on Massachusetts, Russia uses his other hand to retrieve his weapon. Although it is inconvenient to lose partial control of where his flashlight is pointing, he feels too vulnerable without something to fight with.

"You doing okay back there, Russ?" Texas asks.

"Yes, I am fine," Russia replies, taking furtive glances over his shoulder.

"Then what's with the crowbar?"

"I thought I heard something hissing, but I did not see anything out of place."

"Hmm, that don't sound good," Texas mutters, before pulling out his gun and cocking it.

"Tex. What good is that gonna do? We can't see nothing. You're better off with the bat," Louisiana scolds, knife already in hand.

Texas sighs in disappointment and swaps weapons. Canada pulls out his hockey stick. 

Texas stops and takes to walking behind Russia and Massachusetts, guarding the pair from whatever may be stalking them. They begin to walk faster, and the knocks also started to quicken in pace.

Soft scuttling has Russia's head swiveling toward the darkness behind them, and he points his flashlight over Texas' shoulder. Texas ducks to dodge Russia's crowbar, hand on his hat, and he shoots Russia an annoyed look. Russia ignores it and looks around but sees nothing directly in front of him.

Then, he tilts his flashlight up, and something glints in the darkness.

Two yellow eyes.

Chapter Text

Russia stares upward in shock. The thing looks humanoid, with its hands and feet gingerly placed against the ceiling. The creature stares down with its head twisted around. Its eyes glint yellow like a cat's when the light reaches them. The rest of the beast was pitch black with a greasy-looking sheen.

Russia makes a small noise in the back of his throat. Texas inhales sharply.

"What in tarnation?" Texas mumbles.

Suddenly, the spidery-limbed monstrosity shrieks and falls on top of Russia. Russia knocks it away with a swing from the crowbar. The crowbar lets out a low ringing from the impact. He hears the monster hit the ground just in front of Texas, who nails it with his bat.

The monster flies back a few meters and hits a wall with a thump outside of the circles of light.

"Wha-" Canada starts.

"We have a problem," Russia calls back, flashing his light around the room.

Massachusetts groans into Russia's shoulder.

The scampering of uncut nails sounds to his right. Russia turns just in time to take a hit to the chest. Luckily, his backpack absorbs most of the impact. Russia is left fumbling. He stumbles back into Louisiana. His arms shake.

'I can't risk leaving Massachusetts unattended, but I need both hands.'

He scrutinizes the dark, straining his eyes.

'Shit, the flashlights won't help.'

He listens to the footprints of the teens. Scampering rushes to the sound of Texas' boots.

"Texas, on your left!" Russia asserts, pointing his light over Texas' shoulder.

Texas spins to his left, his bat swinging with his momentum. The wood connects with the monster's torso with a whack, sending the creature back. It slinks out of sight as soon as it hits the ground.

Russia turns and runs toward the knocking. Someone cries out behind him. A flashlight clatters to the ground, and its light vanishes. Russia skids to a stop.

"Texas?" Louisiana calls frantically.

"A little help here would be great!" Texas shouts.

"Got it," Canada says, followed by a thwack and the sounds of a struggle.

"We should get out of here," Russia suggests.

"You think?!" Texas exclaims.

"Texas, does your light still work?" Canada asks.

"No!" Texas calls, hitting the light.

Massachusetts shifts.

"What's going on?" a groggy Massachusetts asks.

"There's a monster chasing us. We are following knocking to escape. Texas' light is broken. Can you stand?" Russia responds, standing with his back to the wall.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I just won't be able to use magic for a while," Massachusetts mumbles.

Russia releases his grip and Massachusetts hits the ground with a grunt.

"A little warning would've been nice," Massachusetts growls, stumbling to his feet.

"No time," Russia says, throwing his pack onto his back.

Scratching.

Massachusetts quickly turns away from Russia as Russia illuminates the monster. It scampers across the wall like a spider. Its nails click against the stone. Massachusetts makes a noise of disgust and backs up quickly, stumbling to get away from it.

'Massachusetts doesn't have a weapon,' Russia realizes.

He runs around Massachusetts, crowbar held tightly in both hands. He reels back and swings at its head.

The crowbar hits the rock, sending pieces flying through the air.

The monster stops its pursuit of Massachusetts. It jumps at Russia. Russia swings. The crowbar hits, and a squelching sound emanates from its face. Russia tugs harshly against it, but the tool is firmly lodged in its head.

The monster heaves back and jumps at Russia again. Lights hover around the thing's silhouette, illuminating the crowbar now confined to the monster's skull. It shoves Russia violently back.

Russia's back hits a wall with enough force to leave him breathless. Rocks dig into the back of his head and the creature claws at his face. Russia throws up his arms, turning his face away. He can feel the blood running down his arms with every mark. Stars dance in his vision.

"Russia!" Texas shouts from somewhere behind the thing.

Suddenly, Russia is blinded by bright lights shining directly into his eyes. Then, just as suddenly, the lights are redirected. He sees the monster sprawled on the ground. Texas stands above it, beating on it with Canada. Louisiana tries to pull the crowbar free and Massachusetts illuminates the massacre with his newfound flashlight.

Russia fumbles with his rucksack and pulls out some bandages and rubbing alcohol. He quickly sanitizes and wraps the wounds. it isn't his best work, but it's covered. He ties the bandages off and walks over to the other. The monster thrashes under Texas and Canada.

Then, Canada flies into the ceiling and plummets to the ground. Canada crumples and Texas stumbles back in shock. The creature takes the opening to charge at him.

Texas back peddles a few steps before pulling out his gun. With Massachusetts making it visible, Texas shoots. The resulting bang rings in the air. The monster retreats sluggishly into the dark with gurgling gasps. 

Louisiana walks over to Russia.

"Here," she says, handing him a bent crowbar, "I got the crowbar back."

"Thank you," Russia replies gratefully.

Texas and Massachusetts help Canada to his feet, who seems mostly uninjured.

"We should go before something else decides to attack us, eh?" Canada asks, glancing back to the abyss behind them.

"Agreed. Let's go," Massachusetts says.

Louisiana and Texas take the lead. Russia walks in the back of the group, Canada at his side.

"Are you alright?" Russia asks.

"I'm alright. I got lucky with only a few bruises. Are you? I saw you getting pretty scratched up," Canada replies.

"I will be fine. It is disinfected and bandaged," Russia responds, showing Canada his arms. Canada winces in sympathy.

"I just hope that mother fucker doesn't come back," Massachusetts comments.

"Glad you're back, Massachusetts," Canada says with a chuckle. Massachusetts huffs.

"Come on! We're waiting on y'all," Louisiana calls back from a few paces ahead.

And with that, Russia decides to focus on the adventure ahead. But this time, he carefully listens for anything that may decide that he would be a good target.

Chapter Text

Thump.

Russia jumps. His eyes widen, and he frantically searches for the source. His flashlight lightens the ground in front of him, and he finds Texas sprawled on the ground, face down.

Russia's panic dissipates. He tries in vain to bite back the laughter that crawls up his throat, but when he hears Louisiana and Massachusetts begin cackling, he can't help himself. He brings a hand to his mouth to try to muffle the sound.

"Stop laughing at me!" Texas protests, his face flush.

Texas scrambles back to his feet and dusts himself off. "and stop pointing that thing at me!" he demands.

"Sorry," Russia says through his laughter, redirecting his light to the floor.

Once the laughter quiets down, they continue to follow the knocking. The sound fades in and out and seems to skip a few paces before continuing.

"The knocking's quieter," Texas states, slowing his walk to a slow shuffle.

"Yeah... That ain't good," Louisiana replies, slowing down her pace as well.

Russia begins to shine his light around the cavern to see if he can spot anything that may be causing interference. 

His eye catches something in the corner of his view, and he focuses on the cavern wall. The markings themselves didn't look unusual, but as he backs up, the scratches in the rock begin to resemble letters.

He blinks, and the whole wall seems to shift. The shadows move and rearrange themselves before him. Russia stares at the wall, mesmerized by the fluid movement.

"Woah," he mutters, and he faintly hears the others crowd around him, equally quiet.

Suddenly, the shadows begin to shake, as if whatever is in control is fighting to move them. The shadows swirl. Russia's world spins, but he forces himself to ignore it. He refocuses on the shadows and sees a message.

"you must run," the wall reads. But before Russia can speak the sentence aloud, the message flickers, and the words change.

The letters glint dark red and now read, "THERE IS NO ESCAPE."

The shadows shake once again, and Russia can hear a violent knocking from just behind the letters. The words change once again, showing several messages quickly, one right after the other, in shaking lettering.

"go to the end"

"YOU CAN NOT LEAVE"

"move while you can"

"YOU CAN NOT ESCAPE"

"he is trying to trap you here"

"YOU ARE IN MY PRISON"

"we can help, but not for long," the darknesses writes.

The messages disappear, and the shadows crash against each other like the waves of the ocean. Then, the walls tremble, and the floor rocks like that of a boat in a hurricane. A symphony of tragedy surrounds Russia and fills the tunnels with despair.

"Go! Go! Go!" Texas shouts from somewhere on his left, pointing his flashlight in the direction they had been walking in.

"Not this shit again!" Massachusetts complains from behind him.

"Don't stop! We might have a chance to get out of here. Take it!" Canada demands from the front of the group.

The dark caverns shake beneath their feet. Then, new passages appear before them, and they follow loud knocking through the maze of stone.

After the first few turns, Russia hears growling from behind them.

'Uh oh.'

As he turns to face a threat, a large boulder falls behind him, blocking whatever is trying to chase them. His ears ring from the sound of the impact.

'Now we can't go back.'

Russia turns back and races back to keep up with the states and Canada. He focuses on maintaining his footing on the violently jerking floor. He squints against the wind.

As he runs, he notices a change in the air. It feels slightly warmer against his face, and a gentle breeze brings with it fresh, dry air. He races forward, but he feels someone yank him to the ground by his backpack. He falls back, and he thrashes against the relentless grip. He hears shouting from around him, but in his panic, none of the words register at first.

"Russia! Calm down!" Texas shouts into his right ear, breaking through his mental haze.

Russia stills, and he feels the grip on his bag release. It is only then that he notices the lights above him—the stars.

"We're out," he mutters in disbelief, staring into the vast night sky.

"Yeah, and you almost ran off a cliff," Texas says from behind him.

'Oh... oops.'

Russia takes a moment to look around. He sits on the edge of a steep drop, and he can only make out a few trees in the moonlight.

He feels the ledge begin to tremble and shoots to his feet.

"It's shaking. We need to get down before it breaks," Russia demands.

"A 'thank you' would be appreciated," Texas mumbles.

"Thank you. We have to go," Russia urges, frantically looking around for a way to safely scale the slope.

But before Russia can find a path down, he feels the support under his boots crumble. He backpedals, throwing Texas back with him. The ledge he was standing on moments ago collapses, and the entire shelf of rock begins to fracture. Even with his back against the mountainside, the cracks creep under his feet, and the ledge beyond it disintegrates.

The ground beneath Russia gives way. He screams and hears a few others do the same. He fruitlessly claws at the rock behind him, desperately trying to cling to something, anything, to halt his fall.

All he receives for his efforts is bloodied hands.

The wall pulls away, and the wind whips around him. A blast of air yanks his hat away into the dark. He plunges, throwing his arms out in the hopes that he'll catch something.

The wind fills his ears and blasts his face. He squints his eyes. He slams into the mountainside, pitching him sidewise through the air. Time slows down around Russia, and he can feel every second sluggishly pass by.

'Oh no.'

He plummets through the air approaching the trees beneath him, and he feels his stomach make a new home in his throat. Russia feels his screaming taper off as his breath leaves him, and he stares at the encroaching treetops in terror.

'I will die.'

'Fuck.'

Russia brings his legs up to his torso and moves his arms to protect his head just as he crashes into the trees. He feels the branches burrow into his flesh. Snapping wood replaces the once overwhelming sound of the wind.

Russia cries out in pain, but he can't hear himself over the sounds of destruction.

He splinters the strong evergreen branches that try to slow his fall. His arms burn from the tree's limbs gouging into his wounds. His clothes fill with holes and grow wet and cold with blood.

The world spins, and he hits a stalk with his back. His diaphragm freezes. His arms and legs swing out in reflex, and he falls forward. Moments later, his chest slams into another branch, leaving him gasping.

He dangles from the branch before plummeting an additional few meters. He met the ground with a grunt.

He lands face-up on top of a pile of debris that had fallen with him. He could feel some of the branches digging into his legs. 

He wheezes, and a horrible pain shoots through his chest. He stares up at the moon with wide, glazed-over eyes. His chest spasms and Russia's vision begins to fade.

'I hope the others are alright...'

Chapter Text

The next morning, Russia wakes up in a strange place that smells faintly of evergreen trees and hand sanitizer. He opens his eyes. He is lying in what looks like a tent made with animal hide and wood. 

He shifts and looks down at his clothes, which had been replaced with intricately sewn, loose, colorful cloth. He sits up and winces, expecting to be hit with intense pain, only to feel mildly sore.

He rubs his face and pulls up his sleeves, only to stare in shock at the lack of both wounds and bandages. His arms had several more scars than he remembered, but the fact that they aren't bleeding or broken is astonishing.

He carefully crawls over the animal skins he had been laid on top of, and he gingerly exits the tepee.

Sunlight assaults his eyes, and he covers them until they can adjust. Once he can analyze his surroundings, he sees Canada speaking with someone Russia doesn't recognize. Both are wearing similar garb to Russia, and they turn to face him.

"Oh! Hey Russia. Sorry, I didn't see you there," Canada chirps, waving.

"Hello. Where are we?" 

"You're in my camp. So, you're Russia?" the new personification asks.

His head is a light blue, white lettering circles his head, and his face is decorated with a  white ring with other decorations inside. The strangest part of the man's flag to Russia is the small Colorado flag under his lip. Russia nods, and the figure turns around to reach for something.

"This is Ute (pronounced 'Yoot,' like 'boot'). He's the personification of the Southern Ute Tribe in America. Colorado told him we disappeared, and he came by to find us. Lucky he was in the area, eh?" Canada says.

"You five were badly hurt. I was able to heal most of it, but your clothes were impossible to save. They were ripped badly and are stained with blood and tar. Your spare garments need to be patched after I fix your bags," Ute comments before turning around to face Russia.

Ute holds a hat that Russia thought he would never see again. It is outfitted with a colorful patch sewn onto one of the flaps.

"I believe this is yours. It ripped on its way down, so I patched it as best as I could. It is a fascinating design," Ute says, handing Russia his hat.

Russia takes it slowly before hugging it to his chest.

"Thank you!" Russia exclaims in excitement.

"What?" Ute asks, confused.

"I thank you!" Russia corrects, putting his hat back onto his head, "it is perfect."

Ute smiles proudly before moving to stand.

"Where are you going?" Canada asks curiously.

"I am going to get food. Stay here and guard the campsite," Ute answers, grabbing a spear before disappearing into the treeline silently.

Russia turns to Canada. "Have any of the states woken up?"

Canada shakes his head. "I haven't seen any of them yet. They may just need more rest. They are states, eh?"

Russia admires the sky for a few moments before he turns back to Canada.

"Why is Ute helping us? He is not a state."

"Well, the Southern Ute Tribe has a better relationship with the states than most of the other native personifications. That's why he's got a small Colorado flag on his own flag. Colorado probably asked him to help us out as a favor," Canada answers with a shrug.

Russia hums in acknowledgment and leans back on his hands, gazing up at the clear blue sky.

Movement erupts from one of the nearby Tepees, and Massachusetts bursts out in a frenzy. Russia watches the teen's wide eyes scan their surroundings before landing on Canada and Russia. Massachusetts shoulders fall in relief, and he rushes forward, tackling Canada in a hug. Canada laughs and pushes him off. Massachusetts lunges for Russia, knocking the country over.

Massachusetts releases his hold just as suddenly as he had latched on, and offers a hand to help Russia up.

"You're not dead," Massachusetts states, a relieved smile on his face.

"Not as far as I know," Russia teases.

Massachusetts chuckles in response, and he relaxes. 

"Where are we anyway?" Massachusetts asks curiously.

"Colorado's friend, the Southern Ute Tribe, found us and brought us to his camp," Canada replies.

"Oh. Cool," Massachusetts says as he continues to examine his surroundings.

The three sit together, listening to the birdcalls around them. Louisiana joins them soon after. Following some short conversation with Canada, Louisiana sits with them, admiring the clouds above.

Russia wonders when Texas is going to wake up, but he realizes he wouldn't be able to miss it. Russia is proven right a little while later when Texas bursts from the tepee Louisiana had slept in. 

Texas has his hat on backward and his clothes twisted around his torso. All in all, it is a humorous sight.

Russia snorts in amusement and Massachusetts cackles.

"All y'all are okay!" Texas shouts in celebration, and he charges toward them. 

Texas grabs the states into a hug. Massachusetts yelps and starts trying to push away. Louisiana doesn't look bothered. Texas laughs and drops his siblings.  He turns and grabs Russia and Canada into a bear hug.

Russia gasps for air, and Texas releases his grip, letting Russia fall to the ground. Russia sits back, trying to catch his breath.

"Sorry, Russ," Texas apologizes from above him.

"It's alright," Russia says once he catches his breath.

"I see the states have woken up," Ute says from behind the group.

Russia turns and waves.

"I have food, and there should be enough for all of you to eat," Ute says as he pulls a bag off his back and hands it to Canada.

Ute takes a seat beside Texas and begins to mend the mangled remains of backpacks they had worn yesterday.

Russia is just grateful that he didn't die last night.

Chapter Text

The six personifications sit quietly for a few moments before the states begin conversations amongst themselves. Texas and Louisiana talk loudly, and Massachusetts occasionally throws in his commentary.

Russia is finally able to relax, if only slightly, surrounded by allies. Luckily for his group, most of the rips were easily fixed without any additional fabric, so Ute makes quick work of mending their bags and ripped clothes. Once Ute patches a good amount of the ripped clothes, Russia and Canada take a few handfuls of dirty garments down to a nearby creek to clean off the dust, pine needles, and mud that got through the bags. The stream is within the site of anyone sitting in the campsite, so they felt safe enough to go without the states being put in danger.

They pile the dirty laundry together on the streamside, and Russia pulls out one of Massachusetts' shirts from the pile and dunks it into the stream of cold water. He is a little surprised at the water's temperature, but he isn't bothered by the chill that envelopes his hands. He plucks any pine needles he can see out of the fabric before rubbing the cloth together to scrub off any extra debris.

It takes a few tries before the article began to look clean. Russia pulls it up and rings out any extra water before he hung it up on a nearby tree branch to dry. He continues to clean more clothes the best as he can, occasionally returning to the campsite to retrieve more items.

Once most of the clothes are thoroughly rinsed out, Canada tells Russia to return to the campsite with some of the drier items to hang somewhere else to make more room for the remaining articles. Russia agrees and begins extracting pieces of clothing off the trees, brushing off any needles stuck to the fabric. His hands fill quickly, and he wishes Canada farwell. Canada waves him off without turning away from the creek.

Russia hums a familiar tune while walking the short distance back to the camp, and he notices that Ute and Massachusetts have left the tents. Louisiana is sitting on a branch high in one of the trees, and Texas is leaning against the trunk of another nearby evergreen.

"Where did the others go?" He asks the remaining states.

"Massy thought that we was still missin' some stuff, so he went with Ute to look around," Texas answers.

"Y'all want some help with that?" Louisiana asks from her perch.

"Yes, please," Russia replies.

Louisiana hops down from her position and falls a short distance before hitting the ground, her clothes fluttering out around her. She walks over and takes around half of the clothes, helping Russia lay them out in sunny areas around the campground.

Russia thanks her for her help. He notices Texas perk up. He looks over curiously, but before he can ask, Texas swiftly stands from the tree and begins scanning their surroundings with narrowed eyes.

Some nearby movement causes Russia to turn, and he sees Canada approaching, arms full with dripping wet backpacks.

"Somethin' wrong, Tex?" Louisiana asks. Texas shushes her and backs up toward Russia, his arm out, guiding Louisiana to do the same.

"I heard something weird. Sounded like screamin', but something was wrong with it," Texas hurriedly explains, his voice low.

Russia reaches instinctively for his crowbar, only to realize that he doesn't have it. 'I must have lost it last night,' he thought, clenching his hands into fists.

Russia listens and notices that the forest around them is silent. It is as if all the animals have halted alongside him. Then, Russia feels his hair stand on end, and he looks around, expecting to see a pair of eyes peering around one of the trees.

He sees nothing in the dark shadows that stand as a background to the greenery. Russia decides, weapon or not, he is not going to let the states get hurt. He moves to shield the states from the treeline.

Canada seemed to have a similar idea, as he stands facing the creek.

"I wish I had my gun," Texas mumbles.

Then, the brush begins moving, and Russia can hear someone rushing through it. Russia prepares himself for a fight, and Massachusetts bursts from the bush, holding broken wood and bent metal in clenched fists.

"Are..all of you...alright? F***," Massachusetts huffs, hands falling to his sides.

"Yes, for now. Come here," Russia responds stiffly, fighting the urge to run over and herd Massachusetts behind him. Massachusetts hurries over and hands Canada the wood, and Russia a bent up a piece of black metal. It takes Russia a moment to recognize it as the remains of his crowbar.

"I was going to fix it, but Ute saw something and sent me running back here," Massachusetts says quietly, looking back to the trees, "he said he was right behind me."

There is a brief pause before a blood-curdling scream erupts from somewhere behind the trees. Russia jerks and fights the instinct to run into the trees to help. He hears the states shuffle around behind him as if getting ready to bolt into the trees. Russia reaches one arm around to prevent them.

"Ute?" Canada calls into the trees.

"Over here!" Ute calls back. Canada moves to run to the voice, but Massachusetts stops him.

"Canada, wait. Something doesn't feel right," Massachusetts warns, gripping onto Canada's arm, and Canada pulls away.

"He could be in trouble!" Canada protests.

"Or it could be a trap. Stay here," Russia demands, staring at Canada until the country relents.

"Ute?" Russia calls.

"Over here!" Ute's voice calls from the trees.

Russia stands still, trying to place why the tone of voice sounded so wrong. His eyes narrow. "Ute?" he calls again, trying to keep any suspicion out of his voice.

"Over here!"

The voice is coming from the same location each time, but it sounds off. Russia tries to figure out what's wrong when it clicks. The calls sound like a recording being played to imitate a response, with slight distortions and an identical tone.

"It sounds like a recording," Russia says in a hushed whisper.

"You're right," Texas mutters in surprise.

"What do we do?" Louisiana asks in a whisper.

"We stay together and wait for Ute," Russia replies quietly, and Canada doesn't object.

They draw closer together, and Russia points the sharper end of the mangled crowbar at the trees.

"Over here! Over Here! OvEr HEre!" something shouts from the forest. The voice swells in volume, and any resemblance between it and Ute's dissipates. The static undertone took a tighter hold of the words, distorting them further.

Russia feels the ground beneath him shiver as something advanced on their camp. Looking to the horizon, he observes single trees sway in the windless, blue sky. With every tree, the distance between the source of the movement and Russia is rapidly growing smaller.

Russia's knuckles grow white due to his tightening grip on the dented metal.

"YeAh, and yOu almost ran off a cliff," Texas' voice echos from the trees in front of Russia.

"What?" Texas mumbles from behind Russia horrified.

"What the F*** are you?!" Massachusetts shouts from behind Russia.

"What the F*** are you?!" it echos.

"How are we going to fight this?" Canada asks, his voice shaking.

"I've still got my knife," Louisiana volunteers.

"I don't think that will do much," Russia says cautiously, shifting his feet to be shoulder length apart, eyeing the trees.

Then he sees it—a gaunt, dog-like face several meters above the ground, peeking around a tree trunk. Long, skeletal fingers grip the tree trunk. It opens its mouth, and from its throat, erupts a familiar shout. "RUSSIA," it plays from its open mouth in Texas' tone, identical to the night before.

Its maw slides closed, and its spindly body emerges from the treeline. Its beady, black eyes stare at Russia with the intelligence of a wild animal. Its body is covered in a thin, spotty coat of brown fur, but Russia can see its rib cage under its stretched skin. Its chest is about the size of a small child's, and its legs made up most of its height, bending like pillars about to break. Each limb looks like slim trees. Its feet are adorned with wolf-like paws that meet the ground. Its arms stretch beyond its knees, and its long fingers curl slightly, much like human hands. As it walks, its fingers brush the dirt.

It takes fast, full paces, approaching them swiftly. Russia stares up in horror as its shadow overtakes the sun. The thing huffs and smells the air before grabbing Louisiana. Louisiana shrieks in terror and slashes at its wrist. It shrieks in a pitch that nearly makes Russia's ears bleed.

It drops her and screeches again. Russia took his opportunity to rush at the thing's legs, and he slams his crowbar into the front of its calf.

It didn't break like he was hoping. Instead, the thing shrieks and grabs Russia is a tight grip, pinning Russia's arms to his sides. The crowbar clatters to the ground. Russia squirms, but its grip is too crushing to escape from.

It brings Russia up to a dizzying elevation, and its mouth opens. Russia looks down and sees rows of sharp, canine teeth gleaming back at him.

"No! Let me go! NO!" Russia screams in panic, desperately trying to escape its hand, but it felt fruitless. Its palm wrapped around Russia's arms, and it extended down to his thighs, and its fingers wrap around him tightly, securing him in place. The only parts that aren't bound in its grip are his head and his legs below the knee.

"Russia!" Canada screams, and Russia can see Canada rush forward and try to beat the monster's legs with a broken hockey stick. The states scramble back toward the stream, staring up at Russia. Then he sees Texas reach at Louisiana before running beneath the monstrosity and out of Russia's sight.

Just before Russia is decapitated by its knarled teeth, the thing shrieks and lowers its arm, dropping Russia. He falls a couple of meters before hitting the ground. He scrambles to his feet and sees Texas slashing at its legs with Louisiana's knife. He turns around and sees Massachusetts surrounded by faint green light, chanting.

Suddenly, Ute comes rushing out from the underbrush, holding a few items in his hands. Russia runs toward him, and Ute hands him Texas' gun. The firearm is scuffed, but Russia can't see any outstanding damages to the weapon. So, he spins back and fires at its torso. It shrieks and stumbles back. Now, it bled sluggishly from its chest, leg, and wrist. It lets out one final cry before it turns around and disappears at frightening speed into the trees.

"Howdy, Ute! Nice of you to join us," Texas calls, handing his sister her knife before running over to Russia and Ute.

Russia hands Texas his gun back, and Texas takes it with a grin. "You're quite a good shot," he comments.

Everything takes on a light green tinge as Massachusetts casts a massive spell that resembles a shield. As soon as it solidifies around the camp, the color dissipates, and Massachusetts leans over.

"That should protect us for now," Massachusetts says before yawning, "I'm going to take a nap."

Massachusetts disappears into the tent he had emerged from that morning, and Russia is left wondering what they were going to do now.

Chapter Text

The sun is beginning to disappear over the trees by the time Massachusetts returns to the center of camp. Ute creates a firepit with a circle of stones and dry leaves and plant matter thrown into the center.

"What do you think we should do now?" Russia asks.

"We shouldn't travel after sunset. You should stay here for the night. We can find the road tomorrow after sunrise," Ute says, retrieving two stones and striking them together. Sparks flew, and the leaves ignited.

Canada throws some small twigs into the fire, and Ute looks up. "Russia, can you take one of the states and collect some larger pieces of wood. I have an extra ax in my Tepee that you can use," Ute says to Russia, gesturing briefly to the Tepee that was the most separate from the group of tents. Russia nods.

"I'll go," Louisiana volunteers.

Russia agrees, and after some careful snooping, he locates the ax and pulls it out. The tomahawk is small, with a handle around the size of Russia's forearm, but the blade is sharp enough to draw blood.

Popping out of the tent, he raises the tool in the air and calls, "this?"

"Yes, that works. Try not to scuff it," Ute responds.

"Thank you," Russia says before turning to Louisiana with a nod.

"Wait," Massachusetts calls, causing Russia to pause and turning back to the fire, "don't go too far. The protection spell I cast isn't very large, so try to stay close to us."

"You got it, Massy," Lousiana says.

Russia starts toward the treeline, Louisiana, walking next to him, keeping pace. Russia begins scanning his surroundings for any large, dead trees that would supply them with wood. After walking out a short ways, he turns, and he and Louisiana circle around the camp. They aren't able to see the fire but can both still hear Texas' booming laughter.

Dusk lights up the trees in shades of orange and pink, and the sky begins to grow darker.

Finally, Russia sees a large, bare tree surrounded by brown pine needles near the cliff edge. He points to it with the tomahawk. "That will work," he comments to Louisiana, who hums in agreement. Russia gets to work, cutting out a wedge from the trunk that reaches to about the middle of the tree. Then, he circles the tree and begins chopping away, separating it from the roots.

Once the tree falls, he chops off the branches to collect manageable logs to take back with them and hands them to Louisiana to hold. Then, he spots a branch that catches his eye. It's a straight branch, with a uniform diameter, that would make a good baton. He hacks at the base and chops off the other extending branches. The remaining stick is around six centimeters in diameter and just short of a meter long.

Placing the staff aside, he chops enough wood to sustain the fire for at least a few hours. He grabs the staff and some of the larger logs, the tomahawk tucked under an arm. Louisiana and Russia walk back to the camp.

A few minutes into their journey, Russia heard Louisiana fall, and he spins around to see what had happened. She has tripped on the skeleton of a large animal. Most bones had been broken for the marrow, but a few of them still seem intact. Louisiana stands and collects herself before examining the carcass. She hums to herself before picking up the largest of the bones, steadying it in her hand.

She swings it through the air, grinning. "This would make a good bat. What do you think, Russ?"

Russia chuckles. "I think we should get back to the camp before it gets too dark. You can take it with you if you like."

Louisiana nods happily and collects the wood she'd dropped along with the bone. Walking quickly, they made it back to the campsite before dark. Louisiana dumps the timber she was holding onto the small pile next to Ute, and she plucks the bone from the heap. She turns around with a smile and hands it to Texas.

"Here ya go, Tazzy. I know you loved your bat, but this would be a good substitute," she says.

"Really!?" Texas exclaims happily. He hops up from his spot, taking it from Louisiana. He swung it experimentally before pulling her into a brief hug.

"Yup. It's all yours, little bro," Louisiana says once Texas releases her.

"Thank you!" Texas says, happily swinging it around.

Massachusetts ducks. "Will you watch where you're swinging that thing?!"

"Oh. Sorry Massy," Texas apologizes, lowering the bone to his side. Massachusetts rolls his eyes at the nickname.

"Anyway, I tried to fix your crowbar, but it too busted to be fixed," Massachusetts says apologetically, kicking at a mangled bar of metal toward Russia.

Russia shrugs, but he internally wishes that he had some weapon as a replacement. He hands the tomahawk to Ute and drops the wood into the pile. He then takes the shaft he found and looks at it contemplatively.

"Good find," Ute comments over his shoulder. Russia jumps, and he turns to look at Ute curiously. Ute holds out a hand. "Here. Give it to me," Ute says, and Russia complies, a little confused. Ute takes it and disappears into his Tepee for a few moments before reappearing with a knife, strands of what looked like string, the stick, and what seemed to Russia like an arrowhead.

"That's a great idea!" Canada says excitedly.

"Do you want to do it?" Ute asks, walking over to the fire.

"Only if I get to keep it," Canada says. Ute shrugs and hands the supplies to Canada.

"Just return the knife when you're done," Ute says before taking his seat by the firewood.

Canada begins carving into one end and makes a spear with a sharp, metal tip. Russia would admit, it makes him feel a little jealous at his own lack of a weapon, but he bites his tongue. It must have still shown on his face because Ute hands Russia the hatchet he had used earlier.

"Isn't this yours?"

"I have another. This is the right size for you," Ute says, insisting Russia to take it.

"How do you know it is the right size?"

"It is the size of your forearm. It was always too large for me," Ute comments.

"Thank you."

Eventually, Massachusetts tells the others that he would keep watch. Russia falls into a fitful sleep. He wakes up a few hours later and walks out to the fire. Massachusetts is sitting in the firelight, reading a large, beaten book, using a small ball of light in his hand to read. Russia sits down next to him.

"Why are you up?" Massachusetts asks, not looking up.

"Couldn't sleep," Russia answers.

Massachusetts hums and sets his book aside, dismissing the ball of light. Massachusetts looks up at Russia, and Russia feels startled by how lost the teen looks.

"Do you think my Dad is okay?" Massachusetts asks.

Russia is quiet for a moment. "Your father is stubborn. He is also very strong. He will be alright."

"I hope so," Massachusetts says before leaning against Russia's arm. "I miss him. I know I'm one of the older kids. I got to be stable for the youngsters, you know? But I'm really f***ing scared. We've already almost died, and we found nothing. F***ing nothing! Sorry. I shouldn't be screaming. I just want to find Dad and make sure he's okay."

Russia wasn't sure what to do, but he felt the need to comfort the state. He wraps an arm around Massachusetts, and Massachusetts turns to hug him back. After a few moments, Massachusetts lets go, and Russia pulls his arm back.

"Thanks," Massachusetts mumbles.

"I will take the rest of the shift. You should sleep," Russia says. Massachusetts stays for a few more minutes before grabbing his book and retreating into the tent.

"Good night," Massachusetts says with a wave before disappearing into his Tepee. Russia sits up for the rest of the night, simply waiting for the sun to rise.

Chapter Text

Once the sun begins to rise, so do Texas and Louisiana, who poke their heads out of the tent and start packing up their bags. Massachusetts joins them soon after, due to the noise Texas is making if Russia had to guess. Russia douses the fire and packs his remaining belongings into his bag, keeping the tomahawk within arms reach. When he exits the tent, he sees Ute and Canada are also up and about. Canada is helping the states pack their bags, and Ute is beginning to dismantle tepees.

It took only around 30 minutes to deconstruct the camp fully and pack it up. Though, Russia could've sworn there was far more to carry than what Ute has on his back. 'How many Americans have magic?' Russia thinks, baffled. He shook off the train of thought when Ute begins walking, and he hurries to keep up. Russia walks at the back of their group, but the states are trying to include him in their conversations, which he thought was sweet. He also had to admit some of the stories they tell are hilarious.

"Remember when Tex shot a flare in the house and broke a window?" Louisiana says nonchalantly.

"LOUISIANA!" Texas exclaims, his face reddening.

"I remember," Massachusetts comments, "Dad was soo f***ing mad."

"What was it that Alabama and Mississippi did that ended with the wall in pieces?" Canada prompts from in front of the states.

Texas answers, "oh yeah. Montana dared Alabama to make a human cannon. In all honesty, Idaho should've stopped them, but once 'Bama has an idea-"

"No matter how stupid," Massachusetts interjects.

"He'll follow through. He ain't the smartest of us, but he'll be damned if he's called a quitter," Texas finishes, smirking slightly.

"How does anyone do anything in that house?" Russia asks, exasperated.

"I don't know. We usually only get together on holidays. So right now is weird as it is. Even with all that, Dad and New York can get stuff done, most of the time," Massachusetts says, shaking his head fondly.

"Even if no one is purposefully causing chaos, just talking gets to insane volumes," Louisiana says.

"I have heard," Russia says, smiling.

Suddenly, Massachusetts goes pale.

"What's wrong?" Russia asks, concerned.

"New York is going to f***ing kill us," Massachusetts says, running a hand through his hair.

Texas' face falls, "he's probably worried sick. Darn, we shoulda given him more warning."

Canada sighs sympathetically and says, "We should call him as soon as we get service." Russia agrees, and feels a pang of sympathy for New York. 'He probably thinks he lost his siblings and uncle like he lost America,' Russia thinks.

"You should," Ute says, snapping Russia out of his reverie, "according to Utah and Colorado, he's panicking and trying desperately trying to contact you five."

Russia pulls out his phone to see if he has service and stops in his tracks.

"How long were we gone?" he asks, horrified.

"A day if I had to guess," Canada replies.

"According to the date, we've been gone for more than a week," Russia replies shakily, looking up to see the group had stopped.

"WHAT? Lemme see that!" Texas exclaims, rushing over to Russia.

"How?!" Massachusetts demands.

"Oh no," Louisiana mutters quietly.

Canada just stares back, frozen. Texas nearly snatches Russia's phone out of his hands, and slumps over, defeated when Russia's words are verified.

"We should keep moving. The sooner we get back to the road, the sooner you will have signal," Ute says, urging them forward again.

The once happy mood became sullen, and Russia can faintly hear Texas mumbling about "stupid magic" and "a whole week lost." Russia agrees with the sentiment, and can't imagine the chaos that must be the house of the remaining states. His pace becomes quicker, and the others do the same. The image of New York the day America was captured flashes in Russia's mind. Tomahawk in his hand, swinging at his side, he treks forward.

He briefly wonders about how his father is handling his disappearance. 'Probably not well,' Russia muses.

The sun is high in the sky, and his shadow is nearly invisible by the time they approach the road. Russia sees the rails above them, but he doesn't see a way to climb up. "Back up," Ute says, holding a wooden staff that Russia had not seen before, and Canada backs up with the states.

Ute slams the wooden staff into the dirt twice, and the ground shifts. Slabs of dirt and stone rise to create steps. Russia stares up at the stairs, and when he turns back to Ute, the staff he had been holding is gone.

"This is where I must say goodbye," Ute says, "I cannot go any further with you. The monsters here have been significantly more active, and I need to be here to control it."

"Okay, so long, partner! Thanks for the help," Texas says with a wave, ascending the stairs.

"Bye, Ute!" Louisiana says happily.

"Goodbye!" Massachusetts calls.

"Thank you for your help. Wouldn't have made it without you, eh?" Canada says with a grin.

"Thank you for your help. We are very grateful," Russia says with a slight tip of his head. He then turns and climbs the stairs, following the others. He turns around from the road to wave goodbye, only to see the steps no longer existed, and Ute was nowhere to be seen.

His hand lowers, and he turns to follow the others. They walk up the road for 20 minutes until Texas spots the car and takes off into a sprint. Russia runs with him.

Russia pulls out the keys and unlocks the doors. The states hop in, and Texas falls into a seat with an audible sigh. "Yay, a comfortable seat," he says, his eyes closed.

Massachusetts laughs. Russia helps gather bags and throw them into the back of the car and he sits back in the seat. The moment he sits down and starts the car, his phone begins ringing. Turning the phone over, he sees that it's his father. He answers immediately.

"Hello?" Russia answers.

"Russia! You're okay! What happened to you? The states contacted me and told me you were missing for 9 days!" his father yells into his phone.

"I am okay. Everyone is okay. There was some magic time thing that caused it. We thought only a day had passed," Russia says.

Soviet sighs and Russia catches something ding in the background. He hears his father groan into his hands. "You will tell me everything. For now, I am being called into a UN meeting. I will talk with you soon. Goodbye," Soviet says with a tone of finality.

"Goodbye, Papa," Russia replies before hanging up.

Opening his phone, he sees dozens of missed calls and texts from New York, and later his father, demanding to know if they were alright and where he was. He sighs and calls New York, putting the call through the Bluetooth speakers in the car. The call is picked up immediately.

"Hello? This better not be a motherf***ing joke," New York says aggressively.

"Hi, New York!" Massachusetts calls from the backseat, waving sarcastically.

"Massachusetts?! Is everyone there?" New York demands frantically.

"Yes, you can calm down now," Canada replies, trying to pacify New York. Russia winces when he hears New York choke slightly. He hears the state sniffle for a moment before pulling himself together.

"Thank f***," New York mumbles, "I thought you were gone. You're okay."

The relief in his tone is thick, and Russia tries to remedy it. "Yes. We are sorry for the lack of communication," he says.

"It ain't our fault that the cave entrance collapsed," Texas chimes from his seat.

"What?! What happened?" New York asks.

"Well, something tried to trap us in a cave with a spider monster. Then we fell off a cliff," Massachusetts says flippantly.

"There were also cameras everywhere, and some guy was watching us for entertainment," Louisiana says in disgust.

"Jesus Christ. Now I know how Dad feels," New York mumbles and asks, "how did you survive?"

"Colorado's friend Ute saved us. He also helped us find the car," Texas answers.

"I guess that pot-head does have some good ideas," New York mumbles. "Dixie would want to know about this, but he was just pulled into a nations' meeting. And there is a lot of yelling. I may have to go in there and help. I'll be calling you again later, and you betta answer!" New York says before hanging up.

Russia chuckles and sits back in relief. He is certain something else is going on behind the scenes but decides that he'll figure it out another day, probably with the help of the states and his father. For now, he'll focus on driving them to their next hotel.

Chapter Text

By the time they arrived at the hotel, Russia had confirmed that his father wanted to discuss the situation's details. New York had also called back and helped them get paid reservations at the nearby hotel.

New York reserved two hotel rooms, one with a small living area, a fold-out couch, and two beds and the other with just two beds. They decide to stay together until nightfall, when they would break off and go to sleep. After arriving, they quickly settled into the room; all of them spread out around the larger room.

Louisiana is in the bathroom, and the other states are already washed up when Canada orders room service for their room. The food doesn't taste good. He did relish the shower and the fact that he can finally wash off the grime from their adventure.

After Russia finishes, he sits with the others in the room. He checks his phone and sees a text from his father saying to call when he wanted help.

"My father is waiting to help figure out what's going on. Should I call him now?" Russia proposes.

"Yeah, go ahead," Canada says with a wave, disappearing into the bathroom.

"Ooh! Put him on speaker," Texas suggests, hopping onto the arm of the couch.

Russia does just that and takes a seat on the floor with his phone lying on the ground at his feet. His father picks up after the second ring.

"Hello?" Soviet greets.

"Hello, Papa. I am calling to discuss what has been happening. The states that are with me can hear you as well," Russia responds.

"Hi," Massachusetts says with a small wave.

"Heya partner," Texas exclaims happily.

"Hello," Louisiana says, giggling at her brothers' greetings.

"Hello. Well, first, you must tell me everything. What happened, and what did you find?" Soviet asks.

Before Russia can speak, Texas cuts in. "Well, Mr. Soviet -Sorry Russ- there were cameras everywhere in the cave we were looking in, and some guy was watching us the whole time and was taunting us!" Texas says, his hands flying around as if to vent frustration.

"Cameras?"

"Yeah. Me and Massy knocked most of them down. But the guy was telling us about how we were entertaining to watch."

"That is not good."

"It was not just that, Papa. There was whispering and two earthquakes, but no reports of the earthquakes anywhere," Russia reports, exasperated.

"There was also the tunnel that went from a short room into a long corridor," Canada says, exiting the bathroom, and he takes a spot on the floor.

"How do you know it was a short room?" Soviet inquires.

"I was labeling the areas we explored with some tape. The longer the piece, the bigger the area," Louisiana explains.

Soviet hums in acknowledgment.

"There was also the writing and the knocking. Sorry, this probably doesn't make much sense. Essentially, we were exploring a shady cave system here in Colorado. There was an earthquake, and our exit was blocked. I tried to move it, but I passed out. Then Texas and Russia stared at a wall and some meaningless shadows and then told us to run, and we followed some mysterious knocking to a new exit. There was a second earthquake. Then Russia almost ran off a cliff. Then we all fell down a good 60 feet because the ledge we were standing on crumbled," Massachusetts explains.

"What we saw was writing on the wall, Mass-hole," Texas insists, crossing his arms, "it wasn't meaningless jabber."

"Writing? What are you talking about?" Canada asks, curiously.

"The shadows started moving strangely, so I looked at them, and it began to form words. It was like two different dialogs. One was telling us to leave quickly and that they could help, and the other was telling us that we were trapped," Russia explains.

"It seems that more than one thing is doing this," Soviet mutters, "this is strange."

"It does make me think that whatever is behind this isn't necessarily after power," Canada says.

"You may be correct. I have seen no noticeable change in the countries whose personifications have been taken," Soviet reports.

"There is also something else. Ute, the personification of the Southern Ute Tribe in America, also mentioned that monsters were being a lot more active," Russia recounts.

"Monsters? Russia, what you have told me already is hard to believe. Now you are telling me there are monsters? The countries have already reached a consensus that there is a single entity causing this," Soviet scolds lightly.

"But, Papa, that's what they are. Things that copy voices, things without faces that snap backward and crawl like spiders, and jump off cliffs!" Russia responds defensively.

"Sir, if I may say something," Louisiana interjects, "these aren't part of any made-up story. We were attacked yesterday by somethin' that was like 18 feet tall! It had long arms that brush the ground and the head of a dog. It copied our voices to lure us to it, and it tried to eat Russia. There was also a black human-spider thing that attacked us in the cave that crawled on the ceiling. The outline was human, but its head twisted around, and its eyes reflected light."

"Human eyes do not reflect light. That and the knocking we were talking about was coming from inside the walls. The thing wearing faces might be the only one that you countries are aware of, but lots of monsters seem to be involved. North America has monsters, despite what the god d*** older countries will say. But even then, something terrible is going on, and someone is aggravating them more than usual," Massachusetts adds.

Soviet goes silent, and Russia grows concerned. "Papa?"

"*Is that why the UN did not want anyone looking for the missing countries?*" Soviet mutters in Russian, his tone is holding slight panic.

"What did he say?" Texas asks, bewildered.

"Is that why UN did not want anyone looking for the missing countries?" Russia translates. "*Papa? Are you alright?*" Russia asks.

"*No. I have sent my child on a suicide mission,*" Soviet snaps.

"*Papa, I am not alone. And you did not send me. I chose to go,*" Russia counters.

"Wait, hold up. You think that the UN knows more than he is announcing?" Texas interjects.

Soviet is quiet for a moment before composing himself. "Yes. I knew the UN knows more than he has said, but I did not know to what extent until now. His strictness about going after the missing countries seems more reasonable."

"But why would he be hiding this?" Canada asks.

"It does not seem malicious. He is insisting on other safety protocols. It may be to prevent mass panic," Soviet suggests.

"And whatever is causing this has magic, 'cause I can't find Pops," Louisiana says.

"You would need a lot of power to control most of the creatures lurking around here," Canada remarks.

"What kind of power would someone need to control those things?" Russia probes. Canada shrugs.

"I do not think that entertainment is the only motive, but it is possible," Soviet says plainly.

"It is the only reason that the voice alluded to," Russia remarks.

"Do you have more to say?" Soviet asks after a short pause.

"Are you allowing me to continue looking?" Russia presses.

"I do not like that you are in danger, Russia. But, you have made your decision, and I have promised to allow you to make your own choices. I know that without any action, it will get worse, even if the UN denies it. I just do not like that it involves you," Soviet relents.

"Well, if you are allowing it, do you have any suggestions of where to look next?"

"How did you find the first location?"

"We were going off reports of strange activity in the area."

"That will probably lead you to the next location. However, I do suggest to keep us informed of where you are."

"Us?

"Myself and the other states. There was a lot of worry last time you disappeared," Soviet remarks.

"*Thank you, Papa. I love you.*"

"*I love you. Stay safe.* I will tell you if I find more information. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

He hangs up the call.

"We should probably split off. Who wants to come with me to the other room?" Canada suggests.

"I'll go," Texas volunteers, hopping up from his seat to gather his luggage.

"We're staying in room 209, just down the hall. We'll come back tomorrow morning before we leave," Canada says, opening the door and stepping out.

"See y'all tomorrow," Louisiana calls, and the two leave.

"I call the bed!" Massachusetts declares, jumping up from the couch to lay across the bed closer to the couch.

"HEY!" Louisiana complains.

"Calm down," Russia soothes, "you can have the other bed, Louisiana."

"Nah, you can keep it. You got the couch last time anyways. Mass is just bein' obnoxious."

The rest of the evening is quiet. Massachusetts turns on the television, and he watches it until around 10:00. Russia doesn't protest, wanting to be rested for the day ahead of them.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Russia wakes up much later than he was expecting to. He isn't complaining. He just thinks it's a little odd. He lazily grabs his phone from the nightstand and sees a text from New York, trying to coordinate where they would go next, from a few hours ago.

He unlocks his phone and texts, "*Do you know about any other suspicious activity?*"

A few moments later, his phone buzzes in reply. "*Yes. There have been several reports of strange activity in several cave systems in Colorado. However, I wanted to consult you about how to prioritize them.*"

Then before Russia can reply, it buzzes again. "*Spring Cave is not normally open to the public due to the risk of killing local wildlife. Rangers have reported hearing strange things inside the cave system. It's only open to the public in the spring and closed in August. I might be able to get Colorado to get you special permission to enter. The area is isolated.*"

Russia waits for New York to finish sending all the options, reading through them as they arrive. He notices that Louisiana is sitting up in bed, staring off into the distance, and Massachusetts is still asleep. Then his phone buzzes.

"*There is also a mine in Hastings with a dilapidated ghost town around it. The mine was closed, but some of the tunnels may still be accessible according to Colorado,*" the text read, and his phone buzzes again.

"*The last location you should look into is the Lost Creek Cave System. There has been an unusually large number of reported disappearances in the area, and the rangers refuse to go near the area to investigate. Which one will you be going to?*" New York asks.

"The mineshaft. It is the closest to our current location," Russia replies. He looks down at his phone, startled. Had he really had an entire conversation in Russian with an American state?

"Okay. Let me know your ETA once you leave the hotel. Also, you will probably want camping gear to stay there because you are in one of the last known places where there's lodging available close to the site," New York replies, with no issue with changing languages.

After reading the final text, Russia shuts off his phone. He turns to Louisiana. "How many languages does New York know?" he asks.

She looks up, a little startled, before she flashes him a smile. Her face scrunched briefly out of concentration before she shrugs.

"I don't know. I don't even think Yorky knows, with the immigrants and all that. Dad is the only one I know who knows more."

"America is fluent in more than one language?"

Louisiana scrunched her nose. "It ain't that weird. I speak French, and Texas is fluent in German and Spanish. If y'all want proof of the German, ask him about 'Texas German.' Maybe dad doesn't show it much in front of the other countries, but he understands almost every language in the world," she says flippantly.

"Why haven't I ever heard him speak in a language other than American English?"

"Some of his dialects are weird and kinda old, so he feels embarrassed translating. He understands most languages' modern versions, but Pops speaks like a grandma," Louisiana answers with a shrug.

"I always assumed that he only knew English," Russia admits, feeling a little flustered.

Louisiana laughs. "Nah, if y'all start talking to Dad in a different language, he'll just respond in English. It's really funny to do with Uncle Canada, 'specially in a place where people only speak French, like Quebec."

"What are you guys talking about?" Massachusetts whines through the pillow on his face.

"Dad's languages," Louisiana replies without looking away from Russia.

"Oh. Also, when are we leaving?" Massachusetts asks, sitting up and dropping the cushion into his lap.

"We will leave soon. I will text Canada now," Russia says, pulling out his phone. He sends Canada a short message telling him to get dressed and meet in the main room ASAP. Canada responds immediately with an affirmation, and Russia places his phone back on the nightstand. The three of them take turns to change in the bathroom. Russia goes first, followed by Massachusetts, and Louisiana goes last. Louisiana is fixing her hair when Texas and Canada arrive.

"So y'all ain't gonna believe this!" Texas announces.

"What's goin' on, Tex?" Louisiana asks, smoothing down her hair.

Texas stomps over the bathroom doorway and begins telling his story enthusiastically.

"The clerk threatened to call the cops on me because I was holding this," he waves the large bone in the air, "and he thought I was crazy when I told him I was a state doing state business. I had to ask 'Rado to back me up!" he exclaims, waving his free arm to vent frustration.

"Wow. I wonder why they were so concerned about a crazy person wielding a bone club," Massachusetts comments sarcastically from the edge of his bed.

"Will you shut yer trap!" Texas says, swinging the bone in front of Massachusetts' face threateningly.

"Oh, no. What am I going to do?" Massachusetts dead-pans, staring Texas with an apathetic look.

"Stop. Now," Russia demands, and both states pause before backing up with mumbled apologies.

"So, you have a plan, eh?" Canada asks.

Russia nods. "New York suggested a few locations, and we are going to investigate the closest one. Unfortunately, we will be camping in the area."

"'Camping'?" Massachusetts repeats skeptically.

"I agree with Mass, that ain't a good idea, Russ," Louisiana remarks.

"I mean, what are we even going to camp with?" Massachusetts demands with his arms crossed.

"New York suggested we get camping supplies before going. The area is secluded, and we are staying in the nearest hotel here."

"New York suggested it?!" Louisiana exclaims.

"It's gotta be the only option," Texas concludes quietly.

Massachusetts mutters profanity under his breath, but there is no more outward fighting about the plan. They load up into the car and drive a few miles down to the nearby Walmart to pick up supplies. Russia follows Texas into the store, and they gather supplies, such as a shotgun, shotgun ammo, one large tent, five assorted sleeping bags, a bear-box, and some non-perishable food.

They check-out without issue and pack the supplies into the back of the car with the backpacks. Texas takes the wheel with Louisiana as copilot, and most of them take turns driving an hour at a time. Canada, however, is still not allowed to drive, per the insistence of the passengers.

Chapter Text

For most of his portion of the drive, Russia occupies himself entertaining the states in the backseat. He tells stories about his siblings, like when Belarus ran away for 20 minutes or how his father let him have vodka when he was far too young. In return, he got to hear stories about the antics in the "Big House."

He learns that the states don't often all get together, but it's entertaining when they do. It is hard not to turn around and participate in the conversation, so he settled for glancing into the rearview mirror.

"Wasn't too bad?! You southerners almost burned down the house trying to deep-fry a turkey for Thanksgiving," Massachusetts says, pointing an accusing finger at Texas and Louisiana.

"Deep-fry a turkey?" Russia asks, baffled.

"It was Kentucky's idea," Texas comments.

"And you listened to the chicken head," Massachusetts rebuts.

"Well, you squealed like a kid when Florida brought that snake into the house," Texas retorts.

"It was a snake!" Massachusetts defends.

"It wasn't venomous," Louisiana comments, giggling.

"How was I supposed to know that?!" Massachusetts shouts out of frustration.

"Maybe come down south more often," Texas suggests.

"And hang out with idiots and musquitos? No, I'd rather not," Massachusetts responds crossing his arms.

"We ain't idiots," Texas defends.

Massachusetts shot him a look, and Texas backpedals. "Not all of us are idiots!" he amends, his hands in the air out of surrender.

"Besides, it wasn't the southerners who got the couch stuck to the ceiling," Lousiana replies smugly. Texas laughs.

"That was one time," Massachusetts says indignantly.

"Still happened, Massy," Louisiana replies sweetly.

"Don't call me that," Massachusetts demands.

"What is Thanksgiving?" Russia asks, gaining the full attention of the states, "America speaks of it occasionally, but has never explained what it is."

"Both America and I celebrate in our countries. I do just it earlier. Essentially, it's a day when families get together and eat as much as they can stomach," Canada explains.

"It's when yah gotta find what you're thankful for!" Texas adds.

"And Georgia's pies are nothing to scoff at," Massachusetts remarks.

"Do you think Dad would mind if Russia stays over for this Thanksgiving?" Texas asks the other states.

"Maybe we can ask him once we find him," Massachusetts snaps, and the states go quiet.

The rest of the ride was quiet, and Russia pulls over and parks to the side of the abandoned buildings that remained. They spend the rest of their daylight setting up their campsite and collecting wood.

They sit around their fire pit on various large logs, and Massachusetts scans their surroundings for any obvious threats or magic signatures in the area. Massachusetts' face twists into a disturbing look, and he opens his eyes with a trepidacious look.

"There's a lot of magic. I don't know how I missed it when we were driving here. We need to be careful," he comments, "it doesn't feel friendly."

"Can you track whoever is casting it?" Louisiana asks. Massachusetts' eyes squint in concentration before he shakes his head in defeat.

"No. But, its signature feels familiar," Massachusetts replies.

"Familiar? What's that supposed to mean?" Texas asks.

"It's like the magic that tried to trap us in the cave," Massachusetts replies, his eyes flash green in anxiety.

That put all of them on guard. As the sun sunk out of sight, it projects dull colors onto the clouds above, giving Russia an eerie feeling. It also did not help that he could feel something watching him, but he couldn't place where it was. A faint buzzing surrounds them.

"Somthin' ain't right," Texas mutters, his gun in hand and his club leaning against his leg. Russia agrees. He can feel the air fill with static electricity, and he knew the origin is hidden just out of sight. He notices the source approaching them, and the smell of decay hits him like a stone wall. Canada gags.

The fumes encroach from all around them, suffocating them. Lousiana begins speedily trying to stoke the fire a little brighter, and Russia starts seeing silhouettes sharpen and shuffle forward.

Russia pulls out his flashlight and shines in the direction of one of them. The light illuminates a repugnant heap of maggot-infested flesh staggering forward on broken legs. It looked like it used to be a deer, but Russia didn't look at it long enough to decipher its shape through the cloud of flies circling it.

"Those things are bleeding magic. If they were around before, I would've noticed," Massachusetts says, summoning several balls of green light around himself. Russia hadn't seen him use them before but faintly remembers the teen talking about relearning how to use 'magic bullets' on the ride here.

"Sounds like they're part of a trap, eh?" Canada comments, readying his spear.

Russia sets his hatchet aside and grabs the shotgun. He shoots the thing he sees in front of him, the impacts spraying greenish-black rotten flesh and maggots into the air and decapitates the animal. But, even without a head, the thing doesn't stop its pursuit of Russia. It continues to slump forward, and its exposed joints click and grind together. Russia drops the shotgun and retrieves his tomahawk, and Texas sheaths his gun and arms himself with his club.

The five of them back up, and they end up where the fire right at Russia's feet. They stand with their backs to each other and preparing for the things to come closer.

"The amount of magic being used on those things means they won't stop moving unless they're taken apart," Massachusetts says.

"And try not to get scratched or anything. Y'all won't turn into no zombie, but getting a nasty infection is still bad," Louisiana warns, raising her knife. Russia waits until he has a full view of the things stalking them before he rushes forward. He hears the others doing the same. He strikes its flank. Russia finds that its flesh tears easily, dumping maggots and bloated organs onto the ground.

Unfortunately, Russia also finds that bloated dead things tend to explode. As soon as the stomach makes contact with the terrain, it pops, sending slime rocketing into the air. Russia reflexively closes his eyes at the noise and feels some of the gore splatter across his face. He holds back the instinct to shriek when he feels some of it begins crawling around on his cheek.

He hurriedly wipes it away and back peddles when he sees how close the thing had gotten to him. He repeatedly swipes at the corpse, trying to stop its movement. Looking down at its legs, Russia gets an idea. He tries to get close enough to detach a limb, but the thing lashes out with what remained of its lower jaw. Russia is barely able to dodge the attack.

The flies' buzzing is deafening, and Russia feels the need to vomit because of the overpowering stench of decay emanating from the carcass. He swings up at the remaining pieces of its jaw, scattering its teeth. Once it can't bit him, Russia rushes at its legs. This time, he can strike, but he hits its thigh bone, and only manages to chip into the gleaming white support. The thing begins thrashing its legs violently.

Russia back peddles to avoid being trampled by its decaying hooves. He runs around the creature and takes a swing at its rear legs. It kicks him into a nearby tree, knocking the breath out of him. Then it scrapes toward him, and Russia can hear the buzzing from the shadows behind him as well.

Russia staggers to his feet, and black spots dance in his vision. His head spins, but he refuses to go down. He gasps before rushing forward on shaky limbs. He aims at its ribcage and musters as much strength as he can to swing at it.

The axehead flies through the rotten cartilage of its shoulder joint, making a sickening crackling noise as it disconnects the leg. Seeing his chance, Russia breathlessly swings again, detaching the other front leg from the thing. It falls forward, and Russia dodges it falling corpse. It violently kicks its back legs, occasionally springing into the air with its efforts, but it's unable to move very far.

Deeming it as less of a threat, Russia spins on his heels and faces the other monstrosity that had emerged behind him. This one closely resembles a wolf. Its skull is broken, and rotting brain matter falls out in slimy, wriggling chunks with every move it makes. It looks newly dead to Russia, with its patchy grey coat still covering most of its limbs.

It moves a lot faster than the deer had, and it slinks back, bloody eyesockets producing a large spider. Russia backs up, aiming at it with his ax, but he's unsure how to begin attacking the animal, knowing that if he gets bitten even once by its sharp teeth, he would likely be incapacitated.

Russia feels his heels hit an abandoned building's remnants, making it impossible to continue backing up, and he feels his heart jump into his throat. The wolf lunges, and Russia ducks just as its teeth became visible. It rams into the concrete structure behind Russia, and Russia takes his chance to run back to the campfire. Then, Louisiana screams.

Chapter Text

Russia spins around and sees Lousiana knocked to the ground, surrounded by three shambling creatures. The largest has Lousiana's knife embedded into its skull. Without hesitation, Russia runs in-between Lousiana and the masses of rotting flesh. He takes an upward swing at the throat of the largest of the group, severing its neck.

Its head falls, hitting the ground with a hollow thump. Lousiana runs out from behind him and retrieves her knife. Russia can faintly hear a few gunshots and see glowing balls of light flying around and exploding in his peripheral vision.

"Sever the legs," Russia commands.

"Yes sir," Lousiana responds reflexively.

Russia runs at the largest, now headless, animal. Once he's within striking distance, he ducks low and detaches its left leg at the knee. The second he's sure he made contact, he falls back, smoothly hopping to his feet outside of the animal's reach. The amputated limb falls to the ground, oozing black slime.

He sees Lousiana working to immobilize the smallest of the cadavers, already having fully detached one of its back limbs, but he notices the other body creeping toward her. He darts at it, striking its spine, splitting the animal in two.

The two halves collapse, but Russia is sure that they won't stay immobile for long. However, he also knows that he has his back to one of the other creatures. He spins back and uses his momentum to further his swing, detaching its remaining front leg just above the knee.

It falls forward onto its stub, driving the exposed bone into the dirt. The bone worked as a peg, trapping it in place. Seeing that it is momentarily stuck, he turns back to Louisiana. He sees the monster he split now looks like a walking accordion, its midsection sunken far below normal limits, and its skin along its torso had torn, spilling its rancid organs across the ground.

Russia severs its back leg at its joint, and the monster collapses into a wriggling heap.

After making sure that Lousiana is doing okay, he observes the others, noticing Massachusetts slowly being overwhelmed. He approaches after seeing that Massachusetts attacks, though forceful, only seemed to knock the creatures back, not disable them.

Russia sees one of the animals being sent back in his direction and takes his chance. As soon as it lands, he stands above it an takes off its front limbs. It flails, and it just misses Russia's leg with its teeth. Russia decapitates it and stomps on the skull, and its head caves in with a crunch, rendering it unable to bite anything.

Massachusetts looks at him with a surprised look, before his expression morphs into one of determination. He blasts another abomination through the air at Russia, and Russia lops off its legs and head. He and Massachusetts make quick work out of the four beasts that had been surrounding Massachusetts.

Then, movement from inside one of the abandoned structures catches Russia's attention.

"Duck!" Massachusetts shouts, crouching, and Russia does the same just in time to see the wolf that had tried to eat him earlier soar over their heads, a piece of its ear landing at their feet.

Russia hears its land and turns around just in time to see Texas knocking its lower jaw high into the trees. It lunches at Texas' head, which Texas blocks, shoving his club under its front teeth. But, Russia knows he doesn't have much time.

"Knock it off before it mauls him," he demands Massachusetts, who complies, sending a bullet crashing into the beast's side, sending it rolling a few metes away. Lousiana sprints forward and attempts to sever its leg before it can regain its footing, but its muscle is too thick, and she retreats before she can disconnect the joint.

The wolf staggers to its feet and turns on Louisiana, crouching back. Massachusetts runs a few meters to his left before knocking it off again, this time in the direction of Canada. Canada runs toward the estimated place of impact, and as soon as the body lands, he skewers it with his spear, pinning it in place.

Russia sprints forward to help disarm the beast, removing its front legs with several swings, and Louisiana cuts off its rear legs with Texas and Massachusetts holding the limbs still.

Once the immediate threats are neutralized, Russia breaths a sigh of relief. The smell of the location is horrendous, and there are still some creatures that still need to be dealt with, but there was finally a pause in the chaos.

"That was gross," Texas remarks.

Then, Louisiana begins laughing. Russia looks at her curiously and sees her pointing at the monster that Russia had dealt with first hopping around like a deformed frog. Maybe it was the relief of no one being badly injured, or that the bigger monsters aren't threats anymore, but Russia found himself laughing along at its disjointed movement.

"Let's finish this, eh?" Canada suggests, and Russia helps render all the monsters into sad, headless torsos.

"We can't just leave this out here. We'll attract some unwanted attention," Louisiana announces.

"Where should we put it?" Canada asks. Louisiana shrugs.

"Well, sis, we ain't gonna be able to move it too far. It's a bunch of rotten animal bodies," Texas adds.

"We should at least move it to the treeline," Massachusetts says, and Louisiana nods in agreement.

Russia spends his time tossing disembodies limbs into the trees, and the states have a competition to see who could throw a leg the farthest. Massachusetts won, but Texas insists that he cheated. They try to drag the torsos over to the trees, but they don't make it far. All the movement did was leave a grimy path leading to the body like the corpse is a dirty meat crayon. And for the heads, Russia ended up using his hatchet like a shovel to scoop up the remains and fling them away from camp. Once most of the debris was tossed away from the mine entrance, the air, though still foul, is less repugnant.

Canada suggests sleeping in the car, but Russia decides that as long as they weren't in immediate danger, they shouldn't. That and without being able to clean themselves off, they would make the atmosphere inside the vehicle intolerable in minutes. Instead, they take shifts trying to sleep under the stars while the others keep watch and stoke the fire. Even so, none of them slept very easily that night.

Chapter Text

The remainder of the night is eerily quiet, and even when he is relieved from the watch, Russia can only manage to relax enough to stare up at the vast ocean of stars above him, but he's still far too jittery to sleep. The smell of rot is still vile, but being outside makes the smell almost bearable. 'I wonder if there is a water source nearby,' Russia thought.

Then something flashes in his peripheral vision. He sits up quickly and sees Texas and Canada grabbing their weapons.

"Oh," Massachusetts mumbles, "I thought you guys were sleeping."

"What are you doing?" Texas asks, lowering his club.

"Practicing some more magic," Massachusetts replies.

"Makes sense," Texas mutters.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Massachusetts says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You're good, Massy, just warn us next time," Louisiana replies.

Massachusetts nods before announcing, "I am practicing some spells that flash brightly." Louisiana flashes Massachusetts a thumbs-up.

Russia watches him practice. The spells explode like fireworks but slowly transition into more focused bursts of light. Eventually, Massachusetts looks satisfied with his results, and he begins trying to summon something that looked far more solid than his other attempts had produced.

Massachusetts strings together strange words and waves his hands around a mass of bright green light, with eyes half-open. The light condenses, and its outlines become more solid, but just before its shape is revealed, the light begins shaking. It illuminates the brief look of panic on Massachusetts' face before it implodes.

Massachusetts flies through the air for a few moments before landing hard on his back. Russia hops up and starts walking toward him.

"Massy, you good?" Texas calls from behind Russia. Massachusetts raises an arm and gives the thumbs up.

Russia sits back down. After a few moments, Russia sees Massachusetts back on his feet and shuffling over into the firelight, his book under his arm.

"Well, that didn't go so well," Louisiana teases.

"I know! I know. I'm trying to figure out why," Massachusetts rebuttals.

"Maybe your magic is just messed up," Louisiana teases.

"HEY!" Massachusetts shouts. Texas flinches, rubbing the sides of his head.

"Can y'all quiet down?" Texas asks. The pair look over, surprised.

"Are you okay, Tex?" Massachusetts asks, concerned.

"What? Oh-yeah. Y'all don't gotta worry 'bout it," Texas replies, waving off their concerns.

"You don't normally ask us to quiet down. What's wrong?" Louisiana questions.

"Just some severe weather in my state. Nothing y'all need to worry about, it's just giving me a bit of a headache is all," Texas soothes.

"You're still getting severe weather?" Massachusetts inquires.

"Every day of the year, Massy," Texas replies with a tight smile and finger guns.

Massachusetts sighs, but doesn't say anything else on the matter. Russia keeps an eye on Texas and notices that his face falls the moment the other states look away, contorting into a pained grimace.

Thankfully, the rest of the night is quiet, and, per Russia's insistence, they would not start their search until after sunrise.

As soon as dawn breaks, they pack their bags and enter the abandoned mine shaft. After walking through the mouth of the cave, Massachusetts stops.

"Oh, not this s*** again," Massachusetts complains.

"What?" Canada asks.

"There are more godd*** cameras. Look," he responds, pointing to a flashing red light on the ceiling.

"Should we knock 'em down?" Louisiana asks.

"Nah," Texas replies dismissively.

"Taz, now you're being really weird. Are you sure you're okay?" Lousiana asks, turning to face Texas.

"Yeah. I'll be fine. Should just be a thunderstorm, no tornados or nothing," Texas says, waving off their concern.

"A tornado? In fall?" Massachusetts says skeptically.

"My tornado season, especially in the northern part, is year-round, Mass-hole. Now stop yellin' at me," Texas hisses.

"I wasn't yelling," Massachusetts mutters, his voice sounds confused and concerned.

"We should go back," Louisiana suggests.

"What?! No, I'm fine, Lulu. I'm fine," Texas insists, waving his hands as if to stop Louisiana.

"No, you ain't. You've been acting weird an' you ain't looking so good. We ain't going exploring if you're gonna get sick, Tex," Louisiana orders, her arms crossed.

"Look, I'm good. I ain't gonna get sick. We can keep going," Texas asserts, "we gotta look for Dad."

"Texas, all we have been finding is monsters. If you can't fight, then you shouldn't be going," Massachusetts remarks.

"Listen, I'm fine. We can't be stopping now. Come on," Texas grumbles, stomping ahead of the group.

Russia follows behind Texas, feeling a little worried for the state. Texas' breathing is labored, and he keeps stumbling over himself on shaking legs. He isn't even able to hold his light steady. Imagining being confronted in such a small space with Texas in such a state sends a pang of dread through Russia, and he grabs Texas' shoulder.

"That is enough. We are going back to the campsite until you are better," Russia says, pulling Texas back.

"No. I gotta look for dad," Texas mumbles.

"Dad may not even be here!" Massachusetts exclaims.

"I gotta keep looking," Texas insists, trying to walk forward, but Russia refuses to let him go.

Texas weakly tried to pull away, which only confirms Russia's suspicions that Texas is only barely able to stand and won't be able to fight anything. Russia pulls Texas out by the arm, and the others follow.

"No. Why are we doing this? I'm fine!" Texas yells, trying to shake off Russia's hand.

"If you were fine, Russia wouldn't be able to manhandle you like this, eh?" Canada asks.

"No. That don't matter! I-" Texas starts, before he hunches over and groans.

"Are you okay?" Russia asks. Texas doesn't respond. Instead, he begins to stumble, like a toddler who had just gotten off a spinning chair.

"Whoa!" Massachusetts exclaims, reaching out to help steady Texas. Russia readjusts his grasp and gently lowered Texas down to the ground. As soon as Texas is seated, he curls up on himself and holds his head. his breathing is heavier now and uneven.

"Are you okay?" Lousiana asks, placing a hand on Texas' back.

"It's a tornado... a big one... just touched down," Texas mutters, his eyes screwed shut.

"Anything we can do to help?" Massachusetts asks.

"I ain't gonna be flying back, so no," Texas snaps.

"Hey! I'm just trying to help," Massachusetts remarks.

"Well, don't!" Texas growls, and then he groans into his legs.

Russia finds himself standing aside, unsure of what to do. Texas is still curled into a ball of suffering, immobile. 'At least we are outside and not stuck in the mine,' Russia thinks, sitting down and making himself comfortable.

Chapter Text

Texas relaxes after about 20 minutes. He is shaking slightly, and he leans heavily against the tree behind him. His breath comes in short gasps, and he has a pained expression on his face.

"Are you going to be okay?" Massachusetts asks.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Texas mumbles.

Texas tries to stand, his left hand is pressing against the trunk of the tree behind him to steady himself. He waves off Russia when he tries to help. Texas shakily gets to his feet before collapsing back down with a loud groan.

"So, no moving?" Massachusetts asks, sitting beside Texas. In response, Texas tries again to stand, but Louisiana puts a hand on his shoulder, halting his movement. Texas sighs before sitting back down.

"'m sorry," he mumbles.

"Hey, it ain't your fault," Louisiana soothes, " 'sides, you can't control the weather."

Texas sighs, but doesn't reply. He pulls his hat down to cover his eyes. They sat in quiet for a few moments.

"What should we do now?" Massachusetts asks.

"We should be lookin'," Texas mumbles bitterly.

"We can't go if you can't come with us," Massachusetts deadpans.

"I think we should just settle down for a while, ya know?" Louisiana says.

"Sounds good to me," Canada replies, sitting back and throwing his hands behind his head. Russia nods in agreement.

"We should collect firewood," Russia suggests.

"I'll help," Texas volunteers.

"Oh no, you ain't," Louisiana demands.

"Me and Nada can do it," Massachusetts volunteers. Canada stands with Massachusetts.

"Don't be going too far!" Louisiana announces before turning to look at Texas.

"Hey, Taz, are you okay?" Louisiana asks with a gentle voice.

"'m fine, Lulu," Texas replies in a tight voice, "y'all can go help," he suggests.

Louisiana catches Russia's eye, and jerks her head to the side, directing him away. Russia stands and follows her into the middle of the campsite.

She sighs. Russia turns to keep an eye on Texas over her shoulder.

"Listen," Louisiana begins, "Tazy gets like this sometimes, 'specially after big tornadoes. Pops is the one who normally talks him down. I've tried, but all he does is yell at me and push me away. Always apologizes later, Bless his heart, but me helpin' doesn't help, ya know?" She whispers.

Russia shifts his gaze from Texas to Louisiana, and his eyebrows furrow briefly. Louisiana gives him a faint smile. "He blames himself... It ain't his fault, but people die, and his people grievin' for the things they lost ain't helpin' him much," She mutters, her face falls, "but I ain't never seen him this upset. He gets frustrated when them storms leave him hurtin', but he doesn't try'n drive people away unless they're being pushy 'bout it," she sighs and takes a glance over her shoulder.

"I wanna help, but... I ain't got any idea of where to start. He's been tryin' to pretend he's all fine, but he ain't. He just don't want people seeing him upset. He ain't good at openin' up," Louisiana trails off. She rubs the back of her neck with a saddened look on her face.

"I can try to help. However, I make no promises," Russia volunteers softly.

Louisiana smiles brightly. "Thanks," she says sincerely, "Imma go keep an eye on Sett and his shenanigans. Just holler if you need anything." She excuses herself and walks a short distance away, leaving Russia alone to approach Texas, who hasn't moved.

Russia slowly approaches Texas, trying not to make too much noise, and sits down in front of him. Texas had taken to hugging himself after Russia and Louisiana had walked away. It is a sad look, Russia decides.

"Texas?" he asks. Texas immediately releases his arms, and he swipes away at his face.

"Yeah, Russ?" Texas responds.

"Are you alright?" Russia asks.

"'m fine, Rooskie," Texas insists, "'sides, shouldn't y'all be helping with the wood?"

Russia doesn't respond. Instead, he sits quietly in front of Texas, unsure of what else to say. Texas sighs before biting out a laugh.

"Ya know, it's pretty funny," Texas chokes out, "My people are dying, and I can't do nothing. America needs me, but I can't do nothing!" Texas voice breaks, and he forces a laugh. Texas looks up at Russia and reveals the tears streaming down his face under his hat.

Texas forces a smile and laughs. But his laughter dissolves into weeping, and his smile dissipates. He pulls his hat down to cover his face, and his frame shakes. He hugs himself and hunches over as if to look small. Russia doesn't know what to say.

He lays a hand on Texas' shoulder briefly, but Texas pulls away. Russia racks his brain for another way to comfort him. He ultimately decides to offer company and try to distract Texas from sinking too deep into his thoughts. He isn't sure if it would work, but he doesn't feel like he had any other options.

Russia gets up and sits next to Texas, and begins humming lullabies he remembers from his childhood. It soon evolves into singing Russian folk songs so old than most of his current population probably wouldn't recognize them. He pauses briefly, and another voice takes over. Russia looks up to see Louisiana joining in on the fun.

She begins singing in a language that Russia identifies as French, with an accent he hasn't heard before. She dances along to the upbeat songs as she belts them aloud. Russia finds himself smiling at the sight, even though he doesn't understand a word.

Texas chuckles, "now you're just showing off."

"You be saying that like you ain't never done it before," Louisiana comments with a smirk.

"What are you two doing? Tryin to summon something?" Massachusetts asks, walking over with Canada. Both had arm-fulls of kindling and a few logs.

"Oh, be quiet, Massy-pants. You're just jealous you can't sing," Louisiana teases.

Massachusetts blushes, and he glares at her smug face, and Canada laughs. Massachusetts throws a stick at Louisiana from his collection, which turns into the two flinging smaller pieces of kindling through the air across the campsite. One of these sticks hits Texas in the face, and he laughs. By the time the kindling stopped flying, it's mid-afternoon.

Texas is sleeping and leaning against the tree with his arms crossed against his chest. His legs straight in front of him and the wide brim of his hat shields his face from the sun. The other states are collecting the sticks and leaves they had thrown. Russia is speaking with Canada.

"What should we do?" Canada asks.

"What?" Russia asks.

"For food," Canada elaborates, "and after night falls."

"We should sleep while the sun is out and take watches tonight. I do not think we should start traveling until Texas has time to recover first," Russia replies.

"And food?" Canada inquires.

"I can go hunting for something," Louisiana offers.

"I don't think we should be separating, eh?" Canada replies hesitantly.

"We still have food in our backpacks. We can eat that," Massachusetts suggests.

Canada nods in agreement. The rest of the afternoon went without incident, but this has Russia on edge. To him, it seems too quiet.

'Something is wrong,' Russia thinks, 'but what?'

The blue expanse of the sky above offers no answer.

Chapter Text

The night is quiet, but Russia feels something pulling him toward the mine. It feels irresistible, but the others keep him in place, namely Texas. He can't leave the state alone in such a vulnerable state. Currently, Texas is sleeping, curled up on the ground in front of the fire like a cat, having moved when the sun began to set.

But what concerns Russia the most is that he also catches Canada shooting longing glances into the mine.

"We should not want to go in there," Russia comments, looking at the cave.

"It's affecting y'all too?" Louisiana asks, cautious.

Russia nods, and Massachusetts lets out a low sigh.

"It's persuasion magic," Massachusetts explains, "we're definitely in the right place if it's here."

"Oh, it's definitely here, Sett. Can't you feel it?" Louisiana asks.

Massachusetts nods, "We're best off ignoring it for now," he suggests.

Russia nods in agreement but feels the need to sink into the gaping abyss of the opening, growing stronger as a result. He tries to ignore it, but his thoughts become muddled. He slowly stands, feeling as though he's half-asleep. His legs move him toward the opening.

He can hear someone speaking, but he doesn't understand the words. All he knows is that he needs to be...over there...now. Someone grabs him, his mind fills with intense anxiety, and he jerks away.

Soon, he is standing at the base of the opening, and the urge to go inside is unbearable. Logically, he knows he should be running back to the fire, but logic is drowned out by static. Then, he hears a familiar hissing sound from the shadows. His gaze slowly moves to look around, and he sees his own face staring back at him.

Suddenly, the world snaps back into place. Russia panics and stumbles back. His mind is racing. 'What was that?!' he thinks while he watches the thing slink out of the darkness. It had friends that follow it out.

Their faces swap between mimicking the flags of Russia and Canada, mimicking America, or just going blank. Russia races back to the fire, where the others stand with weapons drawn. Even Texas is up with a gun in hand. His face is still a little pale, but his stance is steady.

"There's three of 'em?!" Louisiana asks incredulously.

"Look's like. There may be even more. Stay close," Texas replies, his eyes narrow and trained on the monsters stalking toward them.

Massachusetts summons bullets, more refined than they had been, and Russia arms himself with his hatchet. Texas shoots, but cries out in pain immediately after. The monsters are left unharmed.

"Texas!" Louisiana shouts.

"D*** thing is bulletproof!" Texas yells, holding his right shoulder in pain

"Godd*** motherf*****s must have some kind of f***ing magic shield," Massachusetts remarks.

"I don't recognize it. Do you?" Louisiana asks, backing up.

"No," Massachusetts bites back, readying himself to shoot off some of the bullets.

"Projectiles aren't a good idea, eh?" Canada says, laughing nervously.

Texas stands back up, his club in his left hand, and his shirt sleeve is soaked with bright red blood. One of the monsters rushes up and grabs Texas. Another does the same to Russia; its dead hands grab his arms. Russia wriggles around, trying to strike it, but he only has enough mobility to hit it at its legs. The hatchet comes flying back, almost striking Russia in the leg.

Then Russia hears a shriek, and his head swivels around to see a monster, its flag an amalgamation of Massachusetts and Canada, sticking one of its fingers into Texas' wound. Texas writhes in agony as it digs around in his shoulder.

Feeling terrified for Texas, Russia struggles even harder, but to avail. Even with the strength that comes with being a personification, its hands don't loosen. Canada shouts from behind him, and Russia can only assume it's because the third of the monsters had grabbed him.

Russia sees green glowing as Massachusetts frantically tries casting magic, only for it to fizzle at his feet. The teen tries throwing the bullets that fizzle out as soon as they are launched. Louisiana is trying to use her phone, but she doesn't seem successful. Then, giving up on summoning weapons, he begins trying to form a flat, misty circle.

What it's for, Russia isn't sure, and he doesn't have enough time to watch and find out. He kicks violently at the creature's legs. The monster doesn't appreciate this and tightens its grip on his arms. Russia shouts in pain. Any tighter and his arms are as good as broken.

The monster that's holding Texas digs around in Texas' shoulder, and Texas lets out a deafening scream. Louisiana jumps and throws her phone into the dirt. She pulls out her knife and rushes at the creature torturing her brother. She strikes at it, but her knife bounces off of its arm. The attack did, however, get its attention.

It pulls its bloody fingers out of Texas' arm and snatches Louisiana's arm. Louisiana shrieks in anger and squirms away from it, twisting her arm out of its grip. It begins to chase her, grasping for her arm.

Massachusetts continues trying to shoot the creatures with magic, but the monsters don't even stumble when hit. Magic bullets that survive being summoned and shot light up the sky in bright green, resembling a light show more than a garage of attacks. Massachusetts backs up further and shouts profanity. One hand is summoning more bullets in a faint hope that they would work and the other trying desperately to summon the circle.

Finally, one of these disks stays corporal. It's shaky and unstable, but it lasts after Massachusetts finishes the hand motion. The second Massachusetts realizes that it survived; he begins shouting into it.

"Dixie! Someone! Please, I hope this is going through. There is so much magic interference. We found an entrance, but we're being forced inside. Phones aren't working. HELP!" Massachusetts screams into a green magic haze before it dissolves completely.

Texas hangs limp in the monster's arm, and his hat hits the ground with a soft thump. The demon holding Texas stops chasing Louisiana and shrieks to the mine. Two other creatures emerge soon after and grab Louisiana and Massachusetts. Massachusetts thrashes around, trying in vain to escape. Russia tries again to swipe at the creature with his limited mobility and only manages to knick himself in the leg.

Russia yelps in pain, and his pant leg begins feeling wet and very warm. The creature stops and begins to smell his leg. Terrified, Russia doesn't give it the chance to touch the wound, kicking wildly.

The thing throws Russia to the ground and places a hand on his chest. It's flag swirls and changes to resemble America's. It leans over and sticks its tongue out to lick the blood. Russia kicks it. It uses its other arm to steady him. Its breath smells of death, and Russia tries to kick it away.

Just before it makes contact, its head shoots up, and it freezes. The other monsters do the same. They stay frozen for a few moments before they rise together and walk toward the mineshaft. The monster picks Russia up and dragged him into the unknown. Russia writhes and squirms, but the creature doesn't give in, eventually deciding to slam Russia into the ground by his feet.

Then, the world goes dark.

Chapter Text

When Russia wakes up, it's to someone crying. He sits up, ignores the pounding in his head, and the searing pain in his leg, and he looks around. He sees Texas clutching his shoulder, just weeping in pain. Louisiana is sitting nearby, trying to help, but Texas is refusing to move his hand. Massachusetts is illuminating the area with some magic. The rest of his surroundings is pitch black. Massachusetts looks over at him.

"Morning Russia," Massachusetts says blandly.

"Hello. Is everything okay?" Russia asks, shuffling slightly, but avoids using his injured leg.

"Taz has got a nasty wound, but he ain't letting me see it," Louisiana replies.

"Where is Canada?" Russia asks, looking around a little more.

"He's still out," Massachusetts replies, jerking his thumb to Canada, who's sprawled across the floor.

"Are you okay? You look like you're avoidin' one of your legs," Louisiana comments.

"I got myself in the leg with the hatchet," Russia responds.

"With that dirty thing?! Lemme see," Louisiana demands, grabbing Russia's leg, yanking it out from underneath him. Russia lands hard on his back.

"Lu! You gotta be careful. He just woke up," Massachusetts scolds.

Louisiana examines Russia's leg, prodding at the wound.

"You got any alcohol?" Louisiana asks.

Russia nods and hands her a flask. She unscrews the top and pours some of the vodka onto Russia's leg without warning. Russia yelps and Louisiana closes the flash. She flips up the first layer of her dress and rips cloth from the second, and then she wraps Russia's leg in the relatively clean cloth.

Then, Russia sits up again.

"You don't look so bad. It doesn't look infected, but we may as well wrap it up," Louisiana says before turning back to Texas, who is clutching his shoulder with his head down.

"Tex?" She calls. Texas doesn't respond.

"Tazy?" Louisiana repeats.

"It hurts. Lulu, it hurts so bad.." Texas whimpers.

"Let me see Tazy. I wanna help," Louisiana says gently, pulling Texas' hand away from his shoulder.

The wound looks horrible, and Russia feels himself get queasy from the sight of it. Louisiana gasps and Massachusetts tenses. The fabric around it is filled with dried blood, and the wound itself looks like someone had taken muddy scissors to it. The surrounding skin is angry and swollen.

"Tazy, I need to disinfect it," Louisiana soothes.

"NO!" Texas screams, his hand clamping back over the wound, "it hurts! I don't want no one touching it."

Louisiana looks at Russia, and Russia immediately understands what she needs him to do. He quickly approaches Texas and grabs him in a bearhug, pinning his arms to his sides. Texas squirms, trying to getaway.

Louisiana looks down at her brother, guilt shining in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Tazy, but I have to do this," she mutters, and she begins pouring the alcohol into the wound. Texas thrashes against Russia and howls. He begs Louisiana to stop, "please! Please. Stop! Lulu!" he cries.

Louisiana takes a step back and sighs. She snatches Texas' bandana and rolls it tightly.

"Here, bite this. We can't risk you screamin'," Louisiana says. Texas glares at her, but complies, opening his mouth and taking the cloth.

Russia doesn't release his grip, and Texas sits stiffly. Louisiana approaches Texas again, and although Texas leans away, he doesn't try to thrash against Russia again. His screams are muffled.

Eventually, Louisiana uses around half of the alcohol and blots the remaining grime away. She then wraps Texas' arm and shoulder. Texas spits the bandana out as soon as she was done. He sighs relieved.

"That hurt," Texas mutters, his voice hoarse, and he slumps into Russia, exhausted.

"Where's my hat?" Texas mumbles, using his right arm to feel his head.

"I don't think we will find it here," Russia replies.

Texas lets out a small disappointed noise in the back of his throat.

There is shifting behind Massachusetts, and Russia sees Canada sit up and rub his head. "Where are we?" he asks.

"We're in a room or something," Massachusetts replies.

"Kinda like we spawned in a videogame," Louisiana comments.

"Is Texas alright?" Canada asks, seeing Texas slumped ontop of Russia with his eyes half-open.

"Louisiana disinfected his wounds," Russia explains.

"Ah. Is he feeling okay?" Canada asks.

"I'll be fine. I just need ta sleep," Texas replies, and his voice cracks.

"Are we in any danger?" Russia asks.

Massachusetts shakes his head. "The light keeps most of it away. But I don't have much magic energy left, so I can't do much else other than summon lights," he says.

Russia nods and leans back, and his shoulders meet the wall. Texas sits up and beside Russia, and the others huddle around them. Louisiana sits beside Texas. Massachusetts sits next to Russia with Canada on the other side.

"What do we do now?" Canada asks, a dim green light reflecting on his face.

"I want Dad," Texas replies.

"Do you think this is where he is?" Massachusetts asks.

"I don't know," Texas replies, "but we should look."

"We didn't teleport or nothing. I think we were brought here and surrounded by magic that's already here," Louisiana comments.

"How long can you hold that light for?" Louisiana asks.

"I can go for a while. It's fairly low powered," Massachusetts replies.

"Let me know when I gotta take over, 'kay?" Louisiana says. Massachusetts nods.

"Can I rest for a little bit?" Texas asks.

"Yes," Russia replies. Texas leans over onto Louisiana, who pushes him onto Russia. Texas begins dozes off against Russia's shoulder.

Unfortunately, Massachusetts is too magically drained to use healing magic, and Louisiana doesn't have any healing spell that would help anything more than a superficial scrape. So now, they wait. Hopefully, being a current state and a former country would help speed up his healing, but Russia didn't know if it would.

Russia just hopes that they won't be stuck here for long.

Chapter Text

Russia tries to relax, but he can hear creatures scramble around them just out of sight. He feels very grateful that they had a light; he doesn't want to know what those creatures are here to do. Russia feels Texas sit up and sees him experimentally use his arm, but he hisses and relaxes.

"How's it look?" Texas asks, gesturing to his shoulder with his good arm.

Louisiana leans over and unwraps his wound. There is still swollen, angry tissue visible. Still, the sharper edges had begun stitching themselves back together.

"Ya shouldn't use it, but I think you'll be alright. You feelin' okay?" Louisiana asks, rewrapping the wound.

"It still hurts, but I'll be good. Y'all wanna start lookin' around?" Texas suggests and begins to stand.

"Wait," Massachusetts says, removing his sweatshirt and uses it to tie a makeshift sling, "that should help."

"Thanks," Texas mumbles, and he ducks his head for Massachusetts to secure it.

Canada looks at Russia. "Can you stand?" Canada asks.

Russia shrugs, and using the wall for support, he stands. His leg had stopped bleeding an hour ago, but it is still painful to stand. He limps for a few steps before he gives up using the leg; instead, he sinks against the wall.

"You can lean against me," Canada suggests, "We shouldn't stay in one place for too long."

Russia agrees. Canada comes over and ducks under his arm. Suddenly, Massachusetts' head perks up, and he scrutinizes the area around them.

"I sense Dad's magic. It's faint, but it's here," he says enthusiastically, " he's gotta be here somewhere!"

"Well, what are y'all waiting for? Let's go!" Texas exclaims, rushing forward toward the opening in the wall.

"Wait," Louisiana interrupts, and Texas turns his head to give Louisiana an annoyed look. "We shouldn't go runnin' into this. Illusion magic is everywhere. Might mean that the walls and rooms change," she advises.

"What're we gonna do then? We can't just do nothing!" Texas exclaims.

"Tex, chill. We will go soon, but we havta be careful," Massachusetts replies. Texas huffs in response but slows his stride none the less.

"We should have Mass lead the way, eh? He's the one who senses America's signature," Canada suggests, and Massachusetts takes this as his opportunity to step in front of Texas with a smirk. Texas looks disgruntled but doesn't say anything.

Walking out of the room, Russia finds that a series of deep tunnels surround them. Some looked planned, with rail tracks built into the dirt and stone, but others look like someone had given a child a drill, with messy outlines and strange angles. They continue walking along a set of rail tracks until the path begins to deteriorate the farther they walk visibly.

Seeing that it is getting risky to proceed down the same route, Massachusetts looks around their position, and they backtrack to where the path was up against the wall. In the wall, there is a gaping tunnel a good three times Russia's height. The opening radiates humidity and heat. There is a step up into it around three feet off the ground, and Canada and Louisiana help Russia and Texas up and over the step.

Russia looks around at the murky darkness and the muddy sides that occasionally come into view. He wants to walk by himself but knows that it isn't possible in his current status.

The green glow leaks into only a few of the crevices buried in suffocating darkness only illuminated bare details. Looking around, Russia wishes he had been able to keep his flashlight because the shadows in the corners of his vision keep spiking his heartrate.

The faint light is definitely preferred over complete darkness, but Russia thinks that it could be a little more radiant. Even still, Russia ultimately decides against asking Massachusetts to make a brighter light, as the green glow cast along the walls is enough to see what he needs to, and he knows that Massachusetts already exhausted most of his magic before they were taken.

Russia's nerves also aren't helped by the scuttling things that remain just out of view. He shivers. He hears distant screeching that echos from around them, too distant to locate. The heat and humidity get more intense with every step, and Russia is beginning to get uncomfortable. The states don't seem to be affected by the change in the climate.

"It's getting hot, eh?" Canada comments with a chuckle.

"Yeah, a little," Massachusetts replies with a shrug.

"It's the humidity that's gettin' to me," Texas interjects.

"Well, I think you're just weak," Massachusetts retorts.

"HEY!" Texas exclaims.

"Will both of y'all just settle down!" Louisiana exclaims. Once her brothers quiet down, she turns to the countries, "do y'all need a break? I know y'all aren't used to warmer temperatures," she asks.

"No, I think we're fine," Canada replies.

Louisiana grins, "well, y'all let us know if y'all need anythin'," she says.

Suddenly, Massachusetts stops walking.

"Wha-" Texas starts, but Massachusetts shushes him before he could finish.

"Show yourself!" Massachusetts demands.

After a moment, a face pokes out from behind a nearby rock formation. Their flag is white with a blue cross. Texas readies himself to attack, but Massachusetts signals for him to stand down.

"Tell us who you are where we can see you," Massachusetts directs.

"I'm Finland," the figure responds while emerging from behind the pillar. Finland approaches them slowly, her head swiveling around, searching for any signs of danger.

"Finland? What are you doing down here?" Canada asks, perplexed.

"I was shopping with Sweden. He went into the shop, and I stayed outside. I was taken," she explains, staring at Massachusetts hands. "How are you doing that?" she asks.

"My dad taught me," Massachusetts replies, "are you okay?"

"I have been in the dark for a very long time," she replies.

"Hey, it's okay. Y'all can stay with us," Louisiana offers.

"Thank you," Finland replies, relieved. She walks around Massachusetts immediately notices Russia. Russia looks up and feels a little sheepish. He had never got along with Finland, especially not since they had fought in The Winter War.

She smiles."Hello Russia, are you alright?" she asks.

"I have a wound on my leg," he answers.

She hums in acknowledgment before turning to the rest of the group, "you seem to be looking for something," she prompts.

"We're lookin' for dad," Texas replies. Finland looks at him, confused by the sentiment.

"We're looking for America," Massachusetts corrects, and realization flashes in Finland's eyes.

"He has children?" she asks, bewildered.

"Yup. This is Texas and Massachusetts. I'm Louisiana," Louisiana introduces. Finland hums in thought before shrugging.

"Let's go find your father," she suggests.

Russia doesn't know what to think about Finland's appearance, but he decides that he would play nice, even if just for the states.

Chapter Text

Russia tries not to start any arguments with Finland as they continue walking into the cavern. Conflict, he decides, is the last thing they need right now. They continue deeper into the cavern until Massachusetts chooses to turn back.

"Sett, do you even know where you're goin'?" Texas asks, begrudgingly turning around to follow the group.

"Well, what do you think? I'm some kind of wizard?! I'm trying my best here, Taz, so chill out and just follow me," Massachusetts replies.

"Meh meh, meh-meh-meh, Imma just be a douche canoe 'cause I'm Mass-hole, and I can do whatever I want for nooooooo reason. 'Sides, you are a wizard, so what are you even goin' on about?" Texas says mockingly, swinging his arm around spastically.

"Okay, well, I'm glad you're feeling better, Tex, but please just shut the f*** up," Massachusetts retorts.

Texas groans in annoyance. Then harsh laughter rings out from above them. They freeze for a split second before Texas begins swinging his shank in the air.

"What do you want?" Texas announces threateningly.

"Can I not be entertained by my show?" The voice replies.

"NO! Because we aren't in any shows of yours!" Massachusetts shouts to the cavern's ceiling.

"Aw, you sweet child," The voice coos, "I guess you don't know any better."

"Hey! All of y'all need to stop talking to it," Louisiana intervenes.

"But-" Texas starts.

"Why don't you let them continue, little girl," The voice croons.

Before Louisiana has a chance to retort, Russia speaks up. "Why are you speaking to us?" he asks, keeping his tone steady.

"I can't say hello?" the voice replies.

"Stop stalling and tell us," Finland demands.

"May I remind you, you have no power here, woman. I am in control," the voice returns forcefully.

Russia winces. Last time he tried to use Finland's gender against her, he nearly got castrated. Finland snarled.

"Hey, getting angry won't end very well," Canada warns, trying to soothe the personifications around him.

"But anger is so fun to watch," the voice whines above them.

"Who are you?" Finland inquires.

"I do not have to answer that," the voice answers smugly.

"Well, maybe, you should!" Texas snaps.

The voice cackles, "you have no control over me either, cowboy."

"Why I oughta," Texas yells, but Louisiana holds him back from running off.

"Why are we here?" Canada asks.

"Because you immortals are so much fun to play with," the voice chirps with a hollow undertone.

Texas begins loudly cursing about the voice in Spanish. Many of the words sound familiar, reminding Russia of Mexico's rants about America.

"I would watch my mouth if I were you," the voice threatens.

This causes Texas to shout louder out of frustration and stubborn willpower.

The voice scoffs, "so you refuse to listen to me? Well, watching you has been fun, but I suppose all good things must come to an end. Now it is finally time to find how much you personifications can take before death." Then the voice silences.

Texas goes pale and turns back to face Russia and the others, with his eyes wide in horror.

"TEXAS!" Massachusetts shouts in anger, and even Louisiana glares at him.

"I...I didn't mean to... I..." Texas whispers.

"He did not know. It is the voice causing this trouble, not Texas," Russia interrupts.

"But if he listened-" Massachusetts rises.

"The same thing could've happened either way," Canada replies sternly, "now stop."

Both Massachusetts and Louisiana glare at Texas, but don't make any more verbal remarks. Texas drops his head in shame. Then low scraping catches Russia's attention. He strains his ears to figure out where it's coming from.

Suddenly, he pulls Canada to the left, and a large monster flies through where the two were just standing. It lands with a thud, and it scampers back to its feet. Russa releases Canada.

"Go," Russia urges, "you can fight."

Canada nods, and Russia stumbles to a nearby wall. His leg burns from use. Massachusetts light begins to flicker.

"What is happening to your light?" Finland asks.

"Magic interference," Massachusetts answers, his voice sounds strained.

"We need to use our ears," Texas suggests, readying his weapon, and the scampering grows close. Russia can also hear something else approach from further in the caves.

As the creatures grow closer, the light becomes more unsteady until the cavern is illuminated with green flashing similar to lightning strikes—bright, brief glimpses in between stretches of darkness. Russia can hear the scuffling and shouts in the dark. He blindly stumbles forward, following the wall toward the chaos. He ignores his leg in favor of inching closer to try and help.

In the next flash of light, he sees Texas without his weapon trying to support Massachusetts, who looks like he is about to collapse. He also begins to see a dull purple glow, like that of a glow stick that hangs around Louisiana's neck. The purple light grows brighter but doesn't cut deep enough into the shadows to illuminate the monsters.

In the next flash, he sees Finland and Canada being cornered by one of the heinous creatures and Texas and Massachusetts being chased by the other with Louisiana hot on their tail. He also catches a glimpse of the floor and sees a familiar shard of stone. 'The stalactite,' Russia thinks, 'I need to get to it.'

He stumbles forward, and after a few steps, his injured leg gives out. He hits the unforgiving ground with a grunt. He hurriedly shuffles onto his hands and knees and crawls to the place he had seen the stone shank, dragging his injured leg behind him. Another flash, much dimmer this time, shows that he is almost there, but they were in dire straights. Canada and Finland are barely able to push the creature away, and Louisiana is attacking the creature cornering Texas and Massachusetts. Still, she doesn't seem to be able to deal much damage.

Once again, bathed in darkness, save for Louisiana's necklace, he frantically explores the ground in search of the weapon, and he feels himself smack it away in his haste. He curses his luck and shuffles forward. He hears someone scream. He grabs the rock.

'I can't stay here,' Russia thinks, and he pushes himself to his feet. His injury feels like it's ripping itself apart, but Russia couldn't care less. He uses his good leg to shuffle toward the small purple light. He feels his leg grow warm with blood. He ignores it. The air smells metallic. He grips the shank as tightly as he can manage and hurries forward. Another dim green flash shows the monster turn to Louisiana, and when the darkness settles once more, Russia hears Louisiana scream and sees her light blur and fly across the cavern, hitting the opposite wall.

Her screaming is cut off when she hits the wall with a thud, and the purple light sinks with her when she hits the ground. Russia turns back toward Texas and Massachusetts. Another flash, the faintest yet, shows Russia all he needs to know. He sees the silhouette of the monster towering over the states. He steps forward. His leg screams in pain. He pulls back. He feels his blood run down his leg. He swings.

He makes a hit. The monster shrieks at a deafening pitch, and Russia feels the shank sink into its flesh. The thing shrieks again, and suddenly Russia is flying through the air. He yells in alarm. He lands hard on his back further in the cavern, and his vision fills with stars. He feels momentarily paralyzed, trying to breathe. Once his breathe returns, so does the rest of his panic.

Russia sits up with a wince and flips onto his knees. 'I have to go back,' he thinks. He tries to stand, only to fall back to the ground. He groans and tries again, and his vision goes white with pain, and his breath escapes him. It takes a moment for his senses to return to him, and the second they do, he steps forward. With every other step, his mind fills with blinding pain. He tries his best to ignore it. But about halfway there, his knees lock up, and he falls once more.

Russia notices his thoughts feel fuzzy, and he feels like he's spinning on solid ground. He uses his hands to claw against the stone floor, trying to get closer. He closes his eyes when he realizes that there are no more flashes of light. He pushes down his thoughts of the worst-case scenarios as best he can, but begins to grab at the rough rocks underneath him more desperately. He begins to tilt over, and he overcorrects. With every move, he gets closer to collapsing.

"Someone... help us...please," Russia mutters as the fighting becomes louder, and he can hear the others crying out in pain. 'Please,' Russia mentally begs, 'or we aren't going to get out of here alive.'

Chapter Text

Russia continues crawling forward out of desperation, trying to get back to the others. Then he hears Texas scream. He pulls himself forward, gasping in pain. Then he begins hearing footsteps approaching him, and the pace begins getting faster with every second. His mind reels, and it fills with images of a huge four-legged monster running at him, and its pace continues to get faster. Then the cave space in front of him began to light up. The light is faint and light blue. The shadows jump and stretch, but get steadily smaller as the footsteps approach.

He curls up slightly and closes his eyes, not wanting to witness his own death or the horrendous monster his mind had created. Then he hears someone gasp.

"What? Who.?"

Russia recognizes America's voice, but can't bring himself to turn around in case it isn't him. But, he instinctually opens his eyes when he hears someone run around him, and he sees America staring with wide eyes. In his hand is a bright ball of light blue light.

"Oh my god. Russia?!" America exclaims, leaning over to help him.

"Get to the others," Russia mutters.

"What?" America asks, his voice is shaky.

"Massachusetts. Texas. Louisiana," Russia chokes out, pointing in front of him.

"Oh, f***! No. No. No. NO. NO!" America shouts, running forward, and the shadows bounce with every step that America takes, light blue light tracing out his silhouette.

Philippines stays for a moment, looking between Russia and America, and seems to have an internal debate about what to do. After a moment, Philippines leans over and helps Russia off the ground and drags him back toward America. Russia hears more sounds of a struggle and sees America's light start flickering, but it remains bright and consistent enough to navigate by.

Russia and Philippines hurry forward and Russia sees America shoving the injured monster away from Texas and Massachusetts. Massachusetts is slumped over Texas' shoulder, and Texas leans against the wall, trying to lower Massachusetts to the ground. America turns and faces the injured monster and picks up a large stone, and he hits the creature until it stopped trying to pounce on the boys. The injured demon hisses and retreats partially into the shadows, watching the wounded party members with sharp, dead eyes.

Philippines puts Russia down beside Texas and runs over to check on Louisiana, who is still slumped unconscious against the wall. Russia watches the injured monster carefully, trying to predict its next move.

"Come on, Sett, yah gotta wake up!!" Texas whispers, shaking Massachusetts shoulder, but Massachusetts remains unresponsive. Russia briefly looks back up to Canada and Finland and sees that, with America's help, they were able to push the monster back, and that Finland had hopped on the creature's back and held it in a headlock. The monster flails, trying to dislodge her.

Then a movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention. The injured creature had begun to move, and it slinks forward to Philippines and Louisiana.

"Philippines!" Russia calls in alarm. Philippines spins around and sees the monster approach. He takes a step back, and his back pressed against the stone wall.

"Papa!" Philippines calls.

Canada and America rush forward and stand in front of Philippines and Louisiana. They shout and jump at the creature, arms raised in the air. The monster falls back onto its hands and growls. The brothers scream in response, and the monster retreats. This time, Russia can't see where it had gone, but something in the back of his mind tells him the thing hadn't gone far.

Finland hits the ground hard when the monster falls, unmoving and limp. She carefully backs up, watching the body for any sign of movement. When it shows none, she walks over to Russia.

America and Canada also walk over with Philippines and a disoriented Louisiana following close behind.

Texas hops up and hugs America tightly with his working arm. "Dad, you're okay," he mumbles into America's shoulder. America hugs him back before releasing him and backing up a step.

"I would scold you right now, but we have to move," America asserts. Texas nods before looking back at Russia and Massachusetts.

"I will carry Massachusetts," Finland volunteers.

America nods before looking back at Russia. "I'll try to heal you later, but we have to get out of danger first," he says. Russia nods and readies himself to stand. America grabs him and helps him up, and Russia slings an arm around his shoulder.

"Are we ready to move?" America asks. He receives nods from the others, and they begin their track through the dank caves, trying to find a safe space to settle. America leads the group with his light. Russia drags his injured leg behind him, too exhausted to hold it up anymore, and stumbles along as America drags him forward.

"So, what happened to making sure things didn't fall apart?" America asks in a jovial tone, but his voice holds an edge.

"We were hoping to find you and the other countries. We got as much information as we could and went looking," Russia explains.

America sighs. "I guess I can't blame you. What happened to your leg anyway?"

"I was trying to fight against one of the stronger monsters, and the ax bounced back and hit me," Russia admits. America chuckles. Eventually, they find a sharp corner in the corridors.

"This is probably the best place to stop," America announces.

"We are in the middle of a hallway," Canada replies.

"If we go into one of those tiny rooms, we'd be cornered if anything attacked us. This is more open, but we have somewhere to go if we see something," America defends.

Canada goes quiet and relents, sitting against the left wall with Texas and Louisiana. Finland sets Massachusetts next to Russia and sits beside Louisiana while Philippines settles on Russia's other side. America stands and begins examining injuries. He starts with Texas, moving to kneel in front of the state.

"I'm going to unwrap it, okay, Tex?" America asks, reaching for the improvised bandages.

"Okay," Texas mumbles.

"...What the h*** happened to you!?" America yells as he pulled the cloth away.

"Started bleeding from a bullet wound and the monsters like blood," Texas grumbles.

America sighs before examining the wound further, prodding the area around it. Texas flinches.

"Louisiana?" America calls. Louisiana hums in acknowledgment. "Could you take over lighting?" he asks.

"Sure thing, just gimme a minute," Louisiana says, pulling out a small pendant from around her neck and holds it in her hands. She begins mumbling, and it begins to glow. She concentrates for a few more moments, and the pendant lights up like a purple lightbulb.

"That good?" Louisiana asks.

"Yes, thanks, kiddo. Now to start healing this," America mumbles. The glow disappears from his hand, and he places both palms right above Texas' wound. He begins repeating something in the same language Russa had heard Massachusetts use. Texas tenses and grits his teeth for a moment before relaxing. America sighs and retracts his hands.

"That might be the best I can do, kiddo. How're you feeling?" America asks.

"Much better. Thanks, dad," Texas says.

America nods before standing and walking over to Russia.

"Can I see your leg?" he asks. Russia complies, and America removes the bloody and grime-covered bandages. His leg is incredibly swollen and weeps blood and what Russia assumes is infection. It throbs, even without any physical contact. The stale air of the cave produces enough movement to send pain shooting through his leg.

"You were walkin' on that?!" Texas exclaims.

"Walking?" America asks.

"Yeah. One of 'em had me and Massy cornered, and Russia got up and stabbed it," Texas explains.

"High pain tolerance," Finland comments.

"Do ya want my help?" Louisiana volunteers.

"Yes. Can you try to disinfect this?" America asks.

"Yeah, I think I have a strong enough connection here to," Lousiana says. America moves aside, and Louisiana crouches down, and her hands hover around the leg. America places his hands down on Russia's leg and begins mumbling. Slowly, the burning in his leg turns to a dull ache. America sighs and backs up.

"How's it feel?" America asks.

"It feels like I can walk again. Thank you," Russia replies. America nods and is then knocked over by Louisiana, who hugs him tightly.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Lousiana says, relieved.

"Now don't get me wrong, I'm happy to see you too, but what the ever-loving F*** are you doing here?" America replies, pulling away from the hug and stands up. He looks to Louisiana and Texas for answers.

"We're lookin' for you!" Texas rebuttals.

America sighs and rubs his face out of frustration. He opens his mouth to say something only to give up and throw his hands in the air. He paces around for a minute before he sits in the corner in between Texas and Massachusetts. Louisiana keeps watch while the others rest injuries and magic supplies.

Now time to find a way out of here.

Chapter Text

Russia sits back and gazes around the hallways, staring into swirling darkness. He eventually has to look away because of the illusions his eyes begin to create in the shadows. His leg still stings but is much less inflamed and painful than it had been. He tilts his head back and almost dozes off. He still hears the others around him but doesn't react and feels too tired to move.

He only opens an eye when he hears America call his name. Scanning the others, he sees that they have fallen asleep. Most of them are slumped against the wall or each other. Texas is sprawled across the floor, reminding Russia of nights he had passed out drunk in his room.

"Hmm?"

"Why did you bring them with you?"

"They wanted to come," Russia grumbles. He sits up against the wall. America stands and moves over, sitting next to Russia. He continues speaking, his voice low.

"But that puts them in danger!" he hisses.

Russia rolls his eyes and yawns. "As if you did not do that yourself."

"Russia, that's different, and you know it."

"How? You put yourself in danger to save the states. We put ourselves in danger to save you."

"No, you don't get it! Aahhh...."

Russia will admit he isn't surprised by the scolding, but he is startled by the sudden cry of pain.

"Are you okay?!"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Listen, that's not the point."

"But you are hurt. Did one of them get you?"

"Wha- no! Listen, Russ, I'm fine."

"No, you are not. Show me."

"I... fine. F***in' fine!" America hisses. He glares at Russia, but Russia doesn't back down. America scoffs.

"America..."

"Okay, okay.."

America pulls up his shirt and brings the light close to his stomach. There is a jagged scar that spans most of his midsection. It reminds Russia of the scars he has from past violence on his land. But America's looked angry. It is a bright pink with red splotches surrounding it. Russia reaches out to touch it but pulls his hand back once he recognizes what he's doing.

"Are you sure you are alright?"

"I'm just experiencing some civil unrest. I'll be fine."

"...are you in pain?"

America looks away and drops his shirt. The cloth falls and covers the scar. Russia stares quietly, trying to will an answer out of America. America bits his lip and sighs.

"Yeah... It's not the first time, though, so it's nothing to worry about."

"I disagree. Do the states know?"

"No. I don't want them to worry about me."

Russia sighs and rubs his face.

"They worry for you now. You look tired, and shouts of pain do not help your image of being fine, America."

America scoffs. Russia sighs.

"Have you slept since being here?"

"It doesn't matter."

"You can not function without sleep for very long."

"Can you stop lecturing me, you stupid drunkard?!"

"I am trying to help."

"I don't CARE!"

Russia sighs. He turns away and closes his eyes.

"Russ?"

Russia decides to ignore America's mumbling. He may not be able to sleep but pretending to works well enough to avoid talking to America for the time being.

"Russia... god f***ing d*** it! ...I'm sorry, I didn't..."

"..."

"Russia, please?"

America's tone turns Russia's head.

"What?"

"God, I'm sorry, Russ. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. You were only trying to help."

Russia sighs and shifts to face America. America holds out a dull blue light in one hand and his face in the other.

"I'm so f***ing sorry, Russia. I've been so worried about the others that I got upset, but I shouldn't have taken that out on you."

"It is okay. I have been called worse things by Ukraine anyway."

America chuckles.

"Listen, Russ. I'm okay, really. The pain only comes and goes."

"You will tell me if that changes."

"Fine, but only you."

Russia nods and gives America a grin. America smiles back. Out of the corner of his vision, Russia sees a small red light high in the darkness. He whips his head around and spots a little red light blinking high on the wall. He stares at it, and it flashes back.

"We're being watched."

"What are you talking about?"

"Look," Russia says, pointing up to the little red light.

"Oh, for f*** sake," America mutters into his hand.

"Tex?"

"G'mornin'. What's goin' on?"

"There is another camera. Could you throw something at it?"

"A'course. Hold on."

Texas rubs his face and stands. He still has a clear preference for his uninjured arm but doesn't seem to be in as much pain as before, which relieves Russia. Texas stands and kicks around for a second before finding a baseball-sized rock. He picks it up, tosses it in his hand, reels back, and launches it at the camera. The camera shatters with an earsplitting crack. The others shoot awake.

"Will you please stop breaking the cameras!" an unfamiliar voice echos through the corridor. It sounds vaguely Italian. Russia's hair stands on end.

"Who the f*** are you?!" America exclaims.

"The one responsible for replacing them."

"That is not what I meant."

"I know, I just don't care."

"Darn, this guy's worse than Mass."

"Texas, shut up."

"Hush," Finland interrupts, "how are you able to talk to us?"

"Magic."

America jumps to his feet and scowls. The blue light begins to flicker. Russia stands and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Meri, the light."

America takes a deep breath and steadies his magic. Russia nods and removes his hand.

"You have a different voice than before. Is that also magic?" Philippines asks.

The voice laughs loudly. "Like I would ever want to sound like him."

Russia tunes out the rest of the conversation turned yelling match. His mind spins, trying to rationalize the situation. Why was this voice different? Was the first one a trick? Where is all this magic coming from? If they could see with magic, why have the cameras?

His eyes go wide, and his breathing seized when an idea hits him.

"Russ?"

"Stop talking."

"What?"

"Now," Russia demands. The group goes quiet. Finland scowls but doesn't argue.

"What did you find, little Russian?"

"How many people are involved in this?"

"Oh! As if you would be allowed to know."

Russia flashes his teeth in a snarl before calming himself. He turns to a wide-eyed America. America narrows his eyes and nods in understanding. They step forward with Canada, blocking the states from the rest of the darkness around them. Russia throws his head over his shoulder.

"Don't speak to him," Russia hisses.

"Why not?" Texas complains.

"Shh!"

Texas rolls his eyes. Finland sighs.

"Hush, star eyes. Don't you understand what's going on?" she mutters.

"Wha?"

"If there is more than one person involved, who knows how many of those f***ers there are," Massachusetts mumbles.

Texas' eyes go wide, and he stares at Massachusetts before turning back to Finland with a slack jaw. Massachusetts scoffs.

"I should have known. The amount of magic being used... It had to have been channeled," he mumbles.

Silence fills the hollows. Russia notes the distinct lack of magic in the air.

"This is bad. This is very bad," America mumbles, running his hand through his hair, his face noticeably paler.

"Meri?"

"I think I need to sit down."

Russia guilds America back to the wall, and America all but falls to the floor in a daze.

"Oh, god. We are in such deep s***," America mumbles, rubbing his face.

"Pops? Whatchu goin' about?" Louisiana asks.

"This has to be a group of people! How big is it? How many other locations could they have? How long were they watching us? Are the other states okay?!"

"America, you have to calm down. Panicking won't help anyone, eh?"

"But Canada, what am I going to do?!"

"First, you must recognize you have help now, papa."

America stares at Philippines for a moment and looks up. His eyes meet Russia's, and they lock gazes for a moment. Canada offers his hand, and America takes it. Canada pulls him up into a hug.

"We're going to be alright. We have to think about how we are going to get out of here, not panic."

America sighs. He weakly hugs his brother and leans against him.

"Pops, you look exhausted. I can handle producin' light for a little while."

"I..."

Russia shoots him a look, and America relents.

"Okay, but don't use it too much."

A purple glow fills the area, and the light blue fades soon after. As soon as he releases his magic, America slumps against Canada, almost knocking him over.

"Whoa! Are you okay?!" Canada exclaims.

"Yeah. I'm just a little tired."

"This is more than a little tired. Can you walk?"

"I think so."

America releases Canada and stumbles to his feet. As soon as he finds his balance, he flashes a thumbs up and a goofy smile.

"We should move. Staying in one place attracted ugly things," Finland suggests. Russia reluctantly agrees. Massachusetts shuffles forward with his head down just behind America, and Russia limps closely behind.

Russia wonders what kind of force they are fighting against, but somehow doesn't regret coming to save America. He probably should not have brought the states, but knows that he would feel a lot worse had he stayed at the Big House and done nothing. Now it is time to see where that decision leads.

Chapter Text

Russia limps along through the purple lit hall, following shortly behind America, but begins to worry. America is hunched over, shuffling, and barely keeping up with Finland and Louisiana. Even Massachusetts, who looks dead on his feet, walks at a steadier pace. America holds his stomach and powers on, stumbling over his feet.

Russia takes a few long steps to walk beside America and looks over with furrowed brow.

"Are you alright?"

"Ye-eah, I'm okay," America chokes out.

Russia stares America in the eyes, and America looks away.

"-fine. Some of the protests are turning into riots."

Russia feels a pang in his chest. He has had riots before, and at some points, he was bedridden as the damage was being repaired. He looks at America with sympathy, and America scowls slightly before looking away.

"I don't want your pity."

"Do you want my help?"

"No. I'm fine."

Russia looks at him carefully, scanning his form. America pitches forward, and Russia catches him by the arm. America is shaking slightly, and his breathing is fast and labored. Russia raises an eyebrow, and America stares at the ground and closes his eyes.

"Okay. Fine. I'll take help."

Russia throws America's arm over his shoulder and heaves him up. Although his leg protests at the extra weight, the throbbing remains dull, so Russia decides that he is fit to support America, at least for now.

The two make slow progress back to the group. America tries to support himself but is unable to balance. His weight begins pulling Russia over, making it hard to walk, so Russia changes positions and hoists America onto his back.

He picks up his pace and rejoins the others just before they turned down a nearby hall. By the time he makes it back to the group, America clings to his shoulders and shakes and is otherwise catatonic. Worry ebbs away at Russia, and the pit in his stomach grows.

"Hey, Russ. Wait, what's up with Dad? Is he okay?" Massachusetts chimes.

"He is alright. He could not walk very well," Russia explains. The other states and Canada turn around to see what Massachusetts is talking about. Immediately, Canada steps over.

"I'll take him. You still have your leg to worry about, eh?"

"It is alright, Canada. I am fine. My leg bothers me no more than it had before."

"Okay. Let me know if that changes, or you need a break."

"If you want someone to carry, I'm all for a nap," Massachusetts comments.

"Okay, Come here."

"Really?"

"Sure. You need to recharge your magic anyway, and we will be able to move faster."

"Rude."

None-the-less, Massachusetts walks over, and Canada hoists him up onto his back. The teen falls asleep once Canada begins walking again. Russia smiles at the sight. The group picks up their pace and start making good progress through the tunnels. Although Russia isn't sure of their destination, it felt good to be moving instead of waiting to be attacked again.

Finally, America's breathing calms down, and his shaking subsides. And with it, the knot in Russia's stomach relaxes. Russia adjusts his grip and looks around at the jagged walls surrounding him. They seem solid, and the light creeps in between the sharp edges of the surface. The tunnel itself begins expanding the further they walk, its ceiling reaching high into the shadows, and the walls stretch out of sight. Soon, he finds himself back in the open area from before, with several branches in every direction looking dark and lonely. He stares up, admiring the vastness of the room.

The air smells strange. As Russia walks, he passes through different pockets of air. Some smell damp and warm while others smell dry and arid. Now in the larger space, they consolidate, drawing closer together and walk down one of the degrading rail lines. Glancing over the edge, Russia doesn't see anything below them but an ocean of black.

He turns back and steels himself over. As long as he doesn't fall, the distance between the path and the bottom won't matter, he rationalizes. He walks after Finland, with Texas trailing just behind him. Louisiana lights their approach, and Canada and Finland are just behind her. The purple-tinted rocks scowl down at them with shadows etching deep cracks into their features.

America grumbles into Russia's shoulder and shifts, tightening his arms. Russia smiles slightly and continues. They stop in the middle of the dome, and Louisiana turns around.

"Where do all of y'all think we should go?"

"Outa here, Lulu. This place don't feel right."

"I know, Taz, but we have to pick a direction."

Scuttling echoes from above. Russia looks up, but he sees nothing. His hair stands on end, and his heart skips a beat. The path is too narrow to run, and potential vantage points surround them for anything to jump at them. His throat feels tight, and his stomach twists.

"The closest one," Russia blurts out, interrupting Finland. Finland scowls.

"No, I say the one over there," she rebuts, gesturing to one of the smaller holes that would only be accessible by walking along a ledge overlooking the abyss.

"No, I heard something. We have to get out of danger. We can not run or fight where we are."

Finland's face stiffens. She nods and directs Louisiana to the closest tunnel. They walk at a sluggish pace, and Russia hears something following them from above. His legs shake slightly, and his eyes scan the area frantically. He grips America tightly, and his breathing speeds up, getting ready to run. Even with his scanning, he sees nothing.

He notices the others grow anxious as well. Even Canada looks around with wide eyes. Never had Russia ever felt so trapped and exposed. Texas walks close behind, almost at his heels, ready to fight, though that would be more dangerous with his given condition.

Finally, they arrive on solid ground. They sprint inside. Just behind them, Russia hears something jump down into the mouth of the cave. He doesn't dare turn around and yanks Texas alongside him, making sure the state didn't look either. America doesn't react.

They race down the corridors, and Louisiana ducks into an offshoot from the main path, and Finland and Canada follow. Massachusetts' head bobs with the movement. He looks frightened. Russia shoves Texas inside after Canada before diving in himself, bracing himself for a rough landing. He lands on his chest and America lands on top of him before rolling off, still fast asleep. As soon as Russia enters, Louisiana dismisses the light, and they sit in complete darkness. Russia is about to sit up when something races by, growling. Its footsteps shake the cavern and are audible over the pounding in his ears. Russia covers his mouth to muffle his breathing. His leg burns.

The thing races away, but he can still hear its footsteps nearby. They sit in near silence, and Russia holds his breath. It returns and begins to pant, wandering near the entrance and back to where they had hidden. Russia feels his blood freeze. 'Can it smell us?'

America shifts and begins getting up. Russia panics and twists around. He pulls America down once he finds his shoulder and covers America's mouth. America freezes before slowly lowering himself back down where he had landed. Russia releases him and slowly returns to his original position in the dirt.

Russia feels claws brush past his face and the sharp tingling sensation in his leg. Then, he feels a hand grab him. His mind fills with blind panic before he realizes that it isn't a monster. America is clinging to him. He finds some comfort in it. It shows he isn't trapped here alone.

The monster paces outside the entrance; small rocks are disturbed with its every step. Russia tries to look around, but his eyes begin to burn from the strain. He closes his eyes.

The room smells of people, sweat, and old rot. Scraping funnels in and mixes with the sounds of quiet breathing. The air tastes metallic.

Russia's skin prickles up, and he begins searching for the others in the room. He feels around and grabs a cowboy boot. The wearer jerks, and Texas grabs Russia's wrist in a tight grip. Texas relaxes once he recognizes it as a hand, as opposed to a claw. Russia lets go and slowly gets to his hands and knees and faintly hears America do the same. He gently guilds Texas to the back of the room, where he hears the others breathing. Russia carefully crawls over. The movement is painstakingly slow, but he can't risk making a noise.

The things huffing fills the room's silence.

He listens to America's breathing behind him to keep tabs on his location as he shuffles forward. His hand hits something. He recognizes the texture as fabric. Listening closely, he hears the breathing he is following right in front of him. He sits down. He reaches out and halts America's approach as well. He waits in the pitch dark, hoping that they will have a chance to escape unscathed.

Chapter Text

Russia hears shifting in front of him, and a hand brushed his leg as someone passes him. He opens his eyes and stares into the darkness on instinct.

He sees nothing.

The person approaches the opening they had come in through and stops at the entrance.

Suddenly, a blinding green light ignites in front of the entrance. Russia lifts his arm to block it, and he sees it go flying down the corridor through squinted eyes. The monster runs toward it.

"We need to go. Now," Massachusetts whispers. A smaller, less potent green light appears in front of them, and Russia follows it out. He hears the others just behind him.

"Come on," Massachusetts hisses, "this way."

Russia follows at his heels when Massachusetts leads them out of the area. As soon as he exits the tunnel, Russia breathes a sigh of relief. They sidestep their way across the small ledge to the less accessible path Finland had pointed out earlier. Russia stumbles inside, and his legs shake.

He leans against the nearby wall and takes a deep breath.

"You good, Russ?" Texas whispers.

Russia nods and pulls away, forcing his stance steady. America gives him a concerned glance, and Russia forces a smile. America sighs and looks away.

"Are you okay for now?" America asks Massachusetts.

"Yeah, dad, I'm fine. I got enough sleep."

"Tell me if you get tired, okay?"

"Will do."

Massachusetts leads them, his arm outstretched. He fills the tunnel with a dull, green light.

Russia falls behind and walks alongside America. America offers a grim smile. Finland walks behind them with Louisiana, and Texas and Canada walk with Massachusetts. Russia listens closely to the noises around him.

A soft dripping noise echoes from in front of them. The air smells metallic. The walls around Russia get smaller and smaller, almost like a funnel.

Massachusetts slows down, and Russia looks around. He can't see much from his current position, but the light gives enough clues that the cavern opens into a large room. The light dimly shows the lack of exits here. It also illuminated streams and dripping liquid. The metallic, iron smell is nauseating here and mixes with the smell of something rotten.

Russia has been through enough wars to recognize the scent of blood.

"What the f*** is this?" Massachusetts mumbles, looking down at the floor. There are globs of something, and more falls from the ceiling to mix and splatter.

"What? What is it?" Philippines asks.

"You shouldn't look, Fee Fee. Dad?"

"I'm coming," America calls.

America walks in and looks around for a brief moment and stiffens dramatically once his gaze rises above eye level.

"What's goin' on?" Texas asks.

"We're leaving; that's what's happening," America says.

"What? Why?" Canada asks.

"I said, WE'RE LEAVING!" America demands.

America looks to Russia for support, and although Russia doesn't understand why America is demanding retreat, the horror on his face is enough to have Russia taking his side.

"Let's go," Russia says.

Louisiana scoffs and crosses her arms.

"Yes," Finland agrees from beside America, "let us leave." Her face is pale, and she stares up at something in horror.

"What the f*** are yous look-" Massachusetts start, looking up from the muck.

"NO!" America interjects, covering Massachusetts' eyes before he was able to look up.

Russia grabs Texas' shoulder and Louisiana's arm and pulls them away from the entrance. The two try to tear away, but Russia only tightens his grip. He also herds Philippines back with them.

"Where should we go?" Russia asks.

"Just... out of here," America mumbles.

Russia nods and drags Texas and Louisiana into an offshoot from the main path.

"Why can't I look?" Texas whines.

"You should listen to your father," Russia insists.

"That don't answer my question!" Texas complains.

"Texas, be quiet, will ya?" Louisiana interjects.

"Ain't you curious too?"

"Yeah! But you don't hear me whinin' about it."

"Guys, I don't think we should push this. Papa seems really... bothered," Philippines says hesitantly.

"But what did he see? That's what I wanna know," Texas says, crossing his arms.

"If I had to guess, it's nothing good," Canada suggests.

Texas grumbles, but stops pulling away.

"Here. Take him too," America mumbles.

He pushes Massachusetts to Russia. Russia hastily moves and catches Massachusetts before he could hit the ground. Russia looks back up and sees a distraught and distant look on America's face.

Canada walks next to America and gently nudges him to Russia. Canada keeps his eyes trained on the ground. Finland follows them, a sad and disturbed look on her face.

"We just need to go," America mutters.

"Yes. I do not want any children seeing that," Finland adds.

They walk down the hall, and America stays very close to the younger group members. He seems jumpy, Russia notes.

"Pops, you ain't looking so good. Are you okay?" Texas says.

"Yeah, TicTak. I'm okay. Come on, let's just...keep moving. Please."

Russia steps beside America to walk with him. America is acting strangely, Russia notes. He hovers over the kids and gently guilds them closer together. He herds them together like one would consolidate a class of kindergarteners. There is no ill intent behind the actions, but even the states and Philippines share disturbed looks. Still, they don't pull away.

However, America's doting slows down their progress tremendously. Russia wants to demand America to ease off the teens.

But every time he looks at America to try, the look of desperation and distress on the other's face dries his throat.

Eventually, Texas breaks. Before Russia could step in, Texas spins to America and clings to him. America immediately returns the gesture. Philippines pulls Louisiana and Massachusetts into a group hug of sorts with America.

"Listen, Pops; I don't know what you saw, I don't think I wanna know. But we're okay. And you can stop smotherin' us, okay?" Texas says.

"Yeah. We can fight off these motherf***ers any day. They're gonna catch these hands before I let them f*** with any of us," Massachusetts says confidently.

"You don't gotta worry so much," Louisiana asserts.

"I know. I know," America says.

"You're hovering," Philippines points out.

America sighs. "I know... I'm sorry, kiddos. I'm just... worried. It's not that I don't trust you to hold your own. I know you can! It's just that whatever's here is... ugly, and I don't want any of you to get hurt."

"We get it. We love you Pops, and don't you forget it, but you can't be treating us like children right now," Texas says kindly.

"I know. I love you guys soooo much," America says. He tightens his hold and lifts them a few centimeters off the ground. They giggle. America lets go and backs up a little. Russia walks beside him at the back of their parade.

Russia catches motion to his right and sees America fidgeting with his hands. But, the longer he watches, the more he realizes that the hand movements aren't random. He had seen them before, when America and Canada would 'talk' to each other during unnecessary meetings. He'd also seen America do it with himself when he is nervous.

Russia tries to think of a way to help, and Louisiana comes to mind. He wonders.

'Had what she said about America understanding other languages true?'

He decides to try.

"*Are you okay?*" Russia asks.

America looks up, startled.

"*What?*"

"*Are you okay?*"

"*That's a stupid question.*"

Russia crosses his arms and gives a mocking scowl. America smiles, but his face quickly falls.

"*What happened? Why did you panic?*"

America goes pale and stares through the people in front of him for a moment before snapping back to the present.

"*It was bad, Russia. It was so bad. When we were walking in there... Do you remember the dripping?*"

Russia nods.

"*Well, we were following it. We were trying to find a water source. It...*"

America takes a deep breath and shakily sighs. Russia waits for him to continue.

"*It wasn't water. It was blood. F***ing blood. A lot of it already coagulated.*"

A cold rush fills Russia's veins, and he nearly trips over his feet.

"*Those people. My citizens. My people.*"

America looks down at his hands and clenches them tightly.

"*They're dead, Russia. Dead. They had their state flags!*"

America chokes on his words and brings a hand to his mouth. His eyes shine with tears.

Russia's eyes burn with empathy. He pushes back the feeling.

"*If the kids looked up, they...*"

America sniffles and chokes on a sob. He swipes away at his face. Russia wants to comfort him more than anything, but he doesn't know how.

He focuses on keeping pace and the words America tells him.

"*They would have seen what their siblings would look like gutted and strung up like Halloween decorations.*"

Colorful faces flash in Russia's memory, and the mental image of those people being hurt turns his stomach. He feels grateful he wasn't the one to see it.

"*Even they had citizens in that f***ing 'display',*" America says, gesturing to the states walking with Canada, "*and I can only hope to God that the others are citizens as well. And I feel so guilty for that. Those citizens are my people, but I can't stand the alternative. The states are my kids. I don't know what I would do if they... if they died.*"

America trails off, hugging himself. Russia swallows back a surge of grief. The possibility that one of the states he'd met could be...

He didn't want to think about it.

"*Did you see anything else?*"

America takes a shaky breath and runs his hand through his hair.

"*I saw writing on the wall. I think it said something like 'training zone.' I don't get it, Russia. What does that even mean? Why was it there? I don't understand. What kind of training is it talking about? What kind of training could it be talking about?!*"

America looks down with a defeated look on his face. He rubs his arms before looking up at Russia with one of the most unsure looks Russia has ever seen.

"*I'm scared, Russia. I'm so scared, and I don't know what to do. I left thinking I could protect them. How stupid am I?*"

"*You're impulsive, but not stupid.*"

"*I don't know about that.*"

They fell quiet. Russia sees some of the inquisitive looks shot their way by the other personifications, but he elects to ignore them. Instead, he keeps his eyes on America, trying to read the other. America keeps his head down and his shoulders stiff.

They had to keep moving, so stopping to do anything is out of the question. So instead, Russia reaches out a hand. America looks at him with a confused look. Russia offers a soft smile.

"*You're not alone. I'm here to help, remember?*"

America gives a watery grin. Russia holds out his hand patiently, and America reaches forward with a shaking hand. Their fingers intertwine.

Russia feels warm.

Chapter Text

Russia holds America's hand, tenderly. A warm feeling fills his stomach. America's shaking slows, and he feels America's grip relax, if only slightly. America rubs at his face and takes a deep breath. He steels his expression with practiced ease that shocked Russia for a moment.

"Come on. We're falling behind," America says. He pulls Russia forward. Russia smiles.

They walk hand in hand. Massachusetts offers Russia a nod and a small grin. Philippines chatters away to Texas. Canada does give him a strange look but doesn't comment.

As they walk, Russia begins to think.

'Training... What kind of training? Was it a joke or real? If it was a joke, why name it the training room? If someone is training something, then why use citizens, and why have people with different flags? Well, monsters- could the monsters be trained? Wild animals can be trained for a circus, and dogs can be trained to fight. Training monsters...'

His eyes widen for a split second.

'That monster from before, at the Big House. It knew Alaska's flag, but Alaska wasn't outside. If these monsters are being trained, they could be sent to track us down and use our flags.'

"*America?*"

"Yeah, Russ?"

"*Can monsters be trained?*"

"Uhhh... I guess? I'd imagine it would take a lot of magic, food, and people to do it... what are you thinking about?"

"'Training room.'"

America inhales sharply.

"Want to share with the group?" Massachusetts asks.

Russia looks to America, and America speaks.

"We think there is something bigger going on."

"Like what pops?" Texas asks.

"Like these monsters are being trained to track down personifications."

Finland's eyes flash in recognition. "But why would someone do that?" she asks.

"I don't know, but 'training room' implies it."

"It would explain how they knew flags they didn't see," Russia interjects.

America goes quiet for a second before nodding his head.

"That would make sense."

"But what's the end-goal here?" Louisiana asks.

"Taking over the world? I don't know. The entertainment thing doesn't seem like the reason someone would train anything for," America says.

"'Taking over the world'?" Finland asks skeptically.

"Well, do you have a better idea? "

Finland shakes her head.

"Y'all think it has something to do with the monster problems Ute was talkin' about?" Texas asks.

"Yes," Russia replies. America gives him a confused look.

"I will tell you later," he mouths to America, who nods.

"Where does that leave us?" Philippines asks.

"We need to focus on staying alive for right now," America replies.

"Sounds good to me," Texas says.

They continue their walk, and America looks conflicted. Russia feels America begins to fidget with his fingers.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, Massachusetts' magic just feels a little weak," America replies, his voice low.

"If you are worried, go talk to him," Russia suggests.

America nods. After a moment of hesitation, he gently squeezes Russia's hand and pulls away. Russia lets his hand fall to his side and watches America walk up to Massachusetts. His hand feels a little cold.

"Do you need me to take over, kiddo?"

"If you don't mind."

Light blue overtakes dim green. Massachusetts drops his arm and slumps over.

"Uncle Canada?"

Canada sighs and nods. Massachusetts stumbles over, and Canada hoists him up onto his back. Massachusetts goes limp almost immediately, asleep. Canada nods to America, and America starts his lead into the tunnels.

Russia walks at the back of the line, trying to keep the states with the rest of the group. He takes to redirecting Texas and Louisiana to keep them walking at the same pace as Finland and Canada.

"Massy is exhausted, huh?" Texas says.

"That's kinda how his magic works, Tex," Louisiana replies.

"No, that ain't my point, Lulu. I'm sayin' that Sett should be restin' more than he is."

"Well, how's that gonna work?"

"What do you mean?"

"We need constant light."

"But when we were hidin'-"

"No! We didn't use any light 'cause we needed to hide."

"Okay! Okay. You don't need ta yell at me."

Louisiana rolls her eyes and sighs.

"Havin' light is our only ally right now, Tazzy. We can't be goin' without 'em."

"Why not?"

"Bless your heart."

"HEY!"

"Tazzy, you can't see it, how're you supposed to fight it?"

"Oh."

Louisiana sighs.

"Well, can't you use your wacky necklace?" Texas asks.

"No. It runs on a battery. If it dies, I can't use it no more."

Texas hums and crosses his arms.

"Tazzy, I love you, but you're an idiot."

"HEY! I ain't stupid. I'm just trying to help."

Texas looks away with a scowl. Louisiana walks ahead and begins to talk with Finland.

"Stupid Louisiana. Thinkin' she's smarter than everyone else here..." Texas mutters.

Russia looks ahead. Mindless chatter echoes around him. Louisiana laughs. Texas pulls his arm out of the makeshift sling and raises it about 1/2 way before dropping it to his side with a wince.

"Are you alright?"

Texas turns to Russia with a smile.

"Yeah, I'm all good. We should be lookin' for some weapons or somethin'," Texas suggests.

"Here?"

"Yeah. You know, like the stalagmite. Even a few big rocks would do."

Russia nods and begins looking around. He helps Texas collect larger rocks as they walk by. Texas piles them into the sling, and Russia helps him adjust it to hold it.

"What are y'all doin'?" Louisiana asks.

"Getting some weapons. You want one?" Texas says.

"Sure. Got anything sharp?"

Russia zones out the conversation. His hair prickles and he looks up. He sees America looking back with a smile. Their eyes meet, and America's face goes pink, and he spins back. Philippines takes a few running steps to keep up.

'Was America looking at him?'

The thought makes him happy if a little flustered. His cheeks feel a little warm.

"Hey Russ, are you doin' okay?" Texas asks, snapping Russia out of his thought.

"Yes. Why?"

"You're turnin' a little red there, partner."

A rush of heat fills his whole face, and he reaches up to pull his hat over his face, only to realize it's still missing.

He looks away and takes a deep breath, but his face still feels a little warm.

Chapter Text

Russia limps alongside Texas. He felt so tired. He drags his feet forward, and Texas shuffles beside him. He begins nodding off, and his head dips forward. He stumbles, and his arms flail out. He squints at the light blue light reflecting off the wall.

'Rest,' his mind demands.

'Walk,' he responds.

He's tempted to ask America to stop for a moment but initially shakes it off. His leg throbs and his arms hang at his sides. The world blurs to black. He forces his eyes open.

With every step, it gets harder to keep his eyes open. Soft dripping echoes from somewhere below. He blinks sluggishly. He swallows.

"America?" Russia mumbles. His voice is much quieter than he expected.

America doesn't respond.

"Meri?" Russia calls.

"Huh?" America replies, turning his head.

"Can we rest? Please?"

"Yeah. I... yeah."

"But we have to keep moving," Finland argues.

"We ain't gonna get too far if Ruski over here passes out," Texas retorts.

Finland scoffs. Russia wants to glare at her, but he doesn't have the energy to hold his head up.

"I think we should take a bit of a break," Canada agrees.

"If we are going to stop, we should do it somewhere less visible," Finland relents.

Russia stumbles after their talking. When they stop walking, he squints and meets America's eyes. Scanning around, he sees Canada setting Massachusetts onto the ground next to Texas and Philippines.

He falls to the ground and slumps back against one of the rock pillars behind him. He winces when his head hits the stone. He sinks back. He hears someone sit next to him. He opens one eye and sees America sitting beside him.

Purple overtakes blue, and Louisiana stands up with Finland.

"We will keep watch," Finland says.

"Us girls got it from here. Get some sleep. Y'all need it," Louisiana adds.

Russia shifts. He kicks up and pushes against the pillars. He pulls his legs up to his chest, and he hugs them. He tries to doze off, but his mind focuses on the rocks prodding his back. He grits his teeth. He drops his arms and kicks his aching legs out. He feels too exhausted to find a better place to sit, but he feels too restless to sleep.

"Are you okay?" America asks quietly.

"I'm just uncomfortable," Russia mumbles back.

"Come 'ere," America says.

Russia feels his face grow a little warm. He meets America's eyes. America smiles. America leans into a corner between the strange pseudo wall and the wall of the cave. Russia leans over, and America pulls him in. Russia tenses when America hugs him to his chest. His eyes shoot open, and his face burns. He couldn't help noticing that he's positioned in America's lap.

Russia takes a deep breath and tries to distract himself. He stares up at the purple-tinged ceiling. He leans his head back onto America's chest and listens to his heartbeat. He closes his eyes and listens.

Strong.

Steady.

Warm.

Rest.

Russia groggily opens his eyes when someone gently shakes him awake.

"Hey, You gotta wake up."

America's chest vibrates as he speaks.

Russia shifts. His mind feels fuzzy. He feels warm. He pulls away and sits up.

"Come on. Louisiana wants us to keep watch."

Russia looks around and realizes he's sitting against America's leg. He scrambles away, feeling flustered. He hurriedly stands up and dusts himself off. America stands beside him.

"Hey, I'm not that scary," America teases.

Russia laughs nervously.

"Come on," America says with a smile.

They walk around the pillars, and Russia sees Louisiana sitting on the floor and Finland standing nearby.

"You guys can go get some rest. We got it from here," America says, summoning a ball of light.

Russia paces around the area and grows antsy. He hasn't heard anything strange, but the lack of conflict feels out of place. He also notices that America nervously fidgets with his clothes.

"Ya know, with all this. There was one thing that I didn't realize would be a big deal," America says suddenly.

"What are you talking about?" Russia says, eager to take his mind off the unnerving silence around them.

"I knew I would miss the kids—God, what I wouldn't do to get out of here and go home. I'd bring those dumb***es with me, of course. I knew when I left that I would miss them. But I didn't realize how much I would miss the sky."

America leans against a cave wall, facing the states, but looking up. Russia walks closer and stands nearby, listening with interest.

"'cause I miss it. Not just the sky, though. Just.. everything about it. Outer space is so free. So open. And the stars are beautiful."

America goes quiet for a moment before continuing.

"And the moon. I always loved the moon. It was amazing. I'd watch it every night with Canada until one of us falls asleep. Canada never really liked it too much, but he didn't wanna be alone."

America chuckles.

"My people made it up there."

Russia doesn't miss the tone of the wonder in his voice.

"But mine were the first ones in space," Russia replies with a smirk.

"Oh shut up," America replies, shoving Russia's shoulder. Russia laughs.

"I'm sure your dad hates me for being the first one on the moon," America reflects with a grin.

"No."

"Really?"

"Well, he was mad, but not really at you or your people. He was more frustrated that he couldn't do it first. He took it out on you."

America laughs.

They fall quiet. Russia scans his surroundings and strains his ears for out of place sounds, but static-y fuzz fills his mind, and his eyes cause shadows to dance.

"Do you like the stars?" America asks, his voice slicing through the static.

"Not as much as my father, but I did find them interesting. The constellations were fun to map out."

America chuckles. Another thought comes to mind, and Russia almost immediately dismisses it for his pride's sake. But after a short pause, he finds himself blurting it out to fill the space in the conversation.

"The only reason I started mapping out constellations was because my Papa loved mapping out the stars, and I wanted to be just like him when I was young," Russia admits, averting his eyes. He feels an embarrassed smile creep across his face.

"Awww! How cute!" America coos playfully.

Russia feels his face grow even warmer, and he tucks his head against his chest. He regrets saying anything.

"Speaking of your dad, how old is he anyways? He said something cryptic before, something like 'I'm older than you know,' or something like that."

"It is complicated."

"What do you mean 'it's complicated?'"

"Well, most countries are 'born' shortly before they are established."

"Yeah... and?"

"Well, my father was one of the exceptions. He was... 'allies' with the Russian Empire, but I think the Russian Empire was older than him. I believe the flag he wore at the time was that of the merchants. I'm not sure about the details. My father doesn't speak much about when he was young, but he was at least a few hundred years old before he took the 'USSR' flag and emblem. I only have fuzzy memories of what we looked like when I was young. But the old portraits do show that he didn't always have his current flag."

"Huh. Never would've guessed."

Russia shrugs.

"I've asked about his changing of flags, but he always said that it was normal for a country to go through a few flags," Russia comments.

"Huh."

Russia glances at America's face, and he doesn't seem so happy anymore. America's face looks sad. The expression reminds Russia of children orphaned in war times. A look of loneliness and longing.

"What's wrong?"

America looks over and offers a grin.

"It's nothing, Russ. Don't worry about it. I'm just gonna sit down if that's all good with you."

"Go ahead."

Russia remains on his feet and paces around the small area that America illuminates.

'It's too quiet.'

He supposes he should be grateful, but suspicion and anxiety grow in place of terror.

'I want to see my family again,' Russia thinks.

'I have to get out of here.'

He looks back at America and the people sleeping just behind the short rock wall.

'I have to get us out of here.'

Chapter Text

Russia continues pacing around. He scans his surroundings. His legs are sore, but they no longer burn as they had. The scratch on his leg had all but disappeared, and his limp has dissipated. He felt more confident in moving.

The blue light flickers.

Russia spins to America, who clutches his stomach.

"America?"

"I'm fine! I'm fine."

"..."

Russia walks over and sits beside America. He sits quietly, staring ahead, occasionally shifting closer to America.

America lets out a shaky sigh.

"...It's getting worse."

Russia turns to look at America, who is staring hard at the ground.

"I don't wanna tell Canada. Or the kids. And I know Phil isn't a kid anymore, but..."

America shifts and curls up around his legs.

"I won't involve them."

"I know."

"You're the only one who knows."

"I know, 'Meri."

America looks up, and their eyes meet.

"Thank you."

Russia's brain short circuits. His whole body feels fuzzy. Eyes locked.

Thump. Scratch. Thump. Growl.

Russia jerks away and glares into the shadows.

"You hear that?" America mutters, moving to stand.

Russia nods and stands up. He notices how America struggles to his feet. He glances at him before returning his gaze to the darkness. America stokes the magic brighter.

"Should we wake them up?" America whispers.

Russia nods and creeps over to the sleeping pile of people. He shakes Canada and Finland awake.

"What?" Finland groans.

"Get up. We heard something near us," Russia hisses.

Finland glares at him but sits up and begins shaking some of the nearby states awake.

Russia stands and sees Canada standing with America. He looks around and spots a sharp, gleaming stalagmite. He reaches over and snaps it from its base.

Texas grumbles from behind him.

"What's goin' on?" Louisiana says with a yawn.

"Something is here," America replies.

"For f*** sake," Massachusetts mutters.

"Shh," Canada says.

"Are we gonna fight?" Texas asks.

"We'll have to get a look at it first," America says, brightening his light to cut deeper into the abyss surrounding them.

Russia catches sight of a knarled, retreating hand. He focuses on it, and he snarls. He brandishes his newfound weapon.

Deep, rolling growls echo from the dark.

Texas launches one of the larger rocks he had collected at the unseen enemy.

Thunk.

It roars in outrage. Heavy thuds shake the floor, and it rears its ugly head into the light.

Its face is a hollow mimicry of human features. Its cheeks impossibly hollow, and its eyes pits of despair and wrath. Its nose is only two large slits in the middle of its face. Something dark red coats its face and mouth. Its limbs are like that of a monkey, but crooked and emaciated. It opens its maw of chipped and jagged teeth and releases a deafening boom, lunging at America.

America flys back in its grip and slams into the rock wall. Russia sprints behind it, raising his shank.

"HEY! MEATHEAD! OVER HERE!" Texas shouts, pelting the thing's back with stones. It drops America and turns on Texas. Russia rushes in and grabs America before he collapses. America holds a faint light in his shaking hand and slumps on top of Russia with a quiet groan. Russia spins back to the action.

Philippines jumps in its path, grabbing fist fulls of debris and shoving into the monster's eyes and nose. It shrieks and lashes out, and Philippines can barely dodge the thrashing limbs, almost falling backward in his attempts.

Massachusetts dives between Texas and the creature and summons a blinding green orb. The monster retreats with a bark. Finland surges up from behind it and grabs it by its neck. She yanks it back. It grabs at her arms, scratching furiously at them, and tries to shake her off.

Finland scowls and shoves the monster to the ground.

Canada rushes over to Russia and tries to check on America's condition. He tells Russia, "America's head is bleeding."

Russia's eyes fly back to the flurry of motion in front of him.

The monster screeches as Louisiana stabs her blade into its right eye. Its thrashes, and Finland kneels on its neck. Texas leans over one of its arms in an attempt to keep it restrained. Canada runs over and helps Massachusetts secure the other. Philippines struggles to hold the monster's head still.

The monster escapes Massachusetts grasp and knocks Louisiana back into Texas, and Texas stays standing. He pushes her back to her feet, and she scours the ground for her blade.

She spots what Russia is holding. She gestures for it, and Russia tosses it to her without hesitation. She catches it gracefully and turns back to the monster in one smooth motion.

She thrusts it into the remaining eye, and the thing screams. It blindly jerks around, nearly sending Finland and Louisiana flying.

Russia's ears ring.

America pulls away from Russia and looks around, a dazed expression on his face. Russia can see his mouth moving but can't make out his words. He spins back the others and sees the thing back on its feet. In the place of its left eye is a shard of stone stabbed deep into its skull.

It stumbles. It falls face down, sending the rod the rest of the way through its head.

The ringing fades.

Russia finds himself staring at the body, his breathing fast and loud, even to his own ears. He forces the air through his nose to quiet himself.

"Is it dead?" Philippines asks.

"I say we take off the head," Massachusetts suggests.

"Why?" Louisiana questions.

"To make sure it's actually dead. Why else?" Massachusetts bites.

"Do we have anything to cut it with?" Louisiana asks.

"No, I don't think so," Canada chimes in.

Russia grows anxious about it standing again. And looking at what it had done to America made him furious.

First, he makes sure America can stand by himself. Then, he walks over and stomps onto its neck with as much force as he could muster.

A crack rings out from its spine. Then, its body begins to deflate. Russia steps back, alarmed. He looks around and sees the others are as well. They fan out around the body, stepping back.

Green and blue light illuminate the corpse as it tears itself apart. It was like watching it decompose on fast forward. The muscle tears away and disintegrates until nothing but the skeleton remains.

Philippines reaches out to touch the bones, and the bones crumble into nothing just before he makes contact.

They stand in silence. Russia stares at the spot where it had been. Now, only a cracked stalagmite lay in its place.

Chapter Text

Russia stares at the jagged rocks for a moment before he turns to America, who holds the back of his head.

"America? Are you okay?" Russia asks.

America groans. "I'll be good."

"Lemme see," Louisiana says, walking over, taking a long step over the stalagmite.

"I'm fine Lulu."

"Come on Dad."

"Fine."

Russia stands shoulder to shoulder with America and spots blood streaming down the back of his neck. America drops his arms to allow Louisiana a good look at his head. The back of his hand brushes against Russia's.

Giddy feelings fill his stomach. Just the slightest contact fills him with excitement and glee.

'Oh.'

'Oh no.'

Russia forcefully swallows the giddiness back.

His people wouldn't approve.

This affection, these feelings. They shouldn't be for another man. He sidesteps away.

He wants to touch. To hug. To hold. But his people's disdain chokes him.

"Russia?"

Russia's head snaps up to America, who gives him a concerned look.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine," Russia mutters, taking a step away. America looks a little dejected. Russia looks away.

"Okay love birds. Let's get a move on," Louisiana teases.

Russia's face flushes with shame. America scoffs.

"Where are we going?" Philippines says.

"Well, that depends on our goal," Canada says.

"So, what's the plan?" Massachusetts asks.

"To get outa here," Texas says.

"But how?!" Massachusetts exclaims.

They fall quiet. Russia forces his mind to focus on a possible solution. He moves his focus to the walls beside him.

"The room," Russia says.

"What do you mean?"

"What room?"

"The training room," Finland clarifies, with a pale face.

America whines softly. Russia bits the inside of his cheek and looks away. He can't stand to see America's expression.

"Why?" America says.

"If there was a way to get people in there, there has to be a way out," Russia explains.

America stares at him, his eyes shine. Russia's heart clenches when America looks away and hardens his expression.

His breath catches, and he swallows the lump in his throat.

"'People'? What are y'all talking about?" Texas says.

"Yeah. What was in there anyway? It smelled a lot like blood," Massachusetts says.

"There were people," Finland mumbles.

"Why are you being so vague?" Louisiana says skeptically.

"Some of them were your citizens," America says quietly, "some from your siblings. All of them were gutted. There was blood. Everywhere. There was so much, and the flags matched yours and your siblings. Near identical images."

"No way," Philippines breaths.

"That's why you didn't want me to look around?" Massachusetts asks.

America nods stiffly.

"All of you will keep your heads down," Finland says, gesturing to the states and Philippines.

"But I'm a country!" Philippines protests.

"You're still young. Keep your head down," America demands.

Philippines scowls. "Fine."

America looks up at Russia, and Russia averts his eyes. America frowns.

"Let's go," Canada suggests.

Russia walks at the back of the group. Massachusetts leads the way.

America trails back and walks beside him.

"I don't wanna go back in there," America says.

Russia stays quiet, trying to control the heat racing to his face.

America looks away. Russia feels him try to lace their fingers together. Russia gently pulls away and crosses his arms. America retracts his hand and rubs his arm. Russia's eyes trail to his feet.

Regret settles in his stomach.

He looks back over at America again and examines him. He notices how some of his hair had begun growing out. It looks fuzzy. He almost reaches out to brush it with his fingers before yanking his hand back.

'No. I can't do this. I can't.'

His eyes kept drifting back to America, and he pulls away.

'No, my President would not approve.'

His eyes return to his feet.

He wants to look over. He wants to reach out.

"Russ?"

His eyes snap up to catch America's gaze.

He wants to take his hand, wants to comfort him, wants to give in.

Shame holds him back.

'I can't. I can't. I want- I can't.'

He bits his lip.

They continue walking, and before he knew it, he is once again shoulder to shoulder with America.

America's head tilts down. He looks anxious.

Russia tightens his arms around his chest and looks away.

Soon, they stand at the entrance to the room. Russia stares inside. The apprehension surrounding America puts Russia on edge.

"Massachusetts, stay here with your siblings. We'll go in to investigate," America says.

Massachusetts nods. America summons his own in an outstretched hand, walking in with him. He can also hear the other countries just behind him.

The room is suffocating. The smell of blood and rot hangs in the air.

Looking down, he can see large, bloody footprints imprinted into the coagulated piles. The room's walls are illuminated by a combination of soft blue and green.

He can see shredded, bloody pieces scattered around the room. His stomach twists.

He tries to avoid looking at the ceiling, but can't completely. Haunting faces stare down with dead eyes. He shivers.

'This is wrong.'

He looks back at the states and finds that the four are waiting impatiently for them. Texas is fidgeting and Louisiana stands close to Massachusetts. Philippines stands just in front of them.

He scans the walls. They are covered in blood, and he can faintly see claw marks on the walls, carving jagged lines into the stones.

He scrutinizes the walls, and his eyes slowly creep up the cliffs.

"Up there," Canada says, pointing up on one of the walls facing them.

Russia turns to look at him and his eyes trail up to where he is pointing. It's a strange group of rocks, and they poke out from the wall. Russia squints.

A door. The sides are straight, intentional lines that form a rectangle. The rocks attached to it give it a strange, but not inexcusable appearance.

It's a good 5 or 6 meters off the ground.

Even still, it gives Russia hope.

They could actually get out of here.

Chapter Text

"How are we gonna get up there?" America asks.

"Up where?" Philippines asks, stepping forward.

The states walk forward before anyone can stop them. Massachusetts takes a sharp inhale, Philippines freezes, Louisiana glares around the room, and Texas dry heaves.

"I told you to keep your heads down," America snaps.

Russia tunes out the scolding, staring up at the door. He couldn't ignore it anymore. It stands out against the scratched background.

'How organized is this operation? There's a door, and probably a plan here.'

"Maybe I could climb up there?" Texas suggests.

"Not a good idea Tex. You told me yourself that your arm is getting back to useable. That doesn't sound like you'll be scaling walls any time soon," Philippines replies.

"What are we going to do once we go through it?" Russia asks, looking at America for input, but averts his eyes just as quickly.

America rubs his face.

"And how? That thing is probably made to keep the creatures out. How are we going to open it?" Canada says.

"Magic," Massachusetts says.

"And getting up there?" Russia asks.

"These rocks might help," Louisiana says.

"Stacking up some larger rocks may take a while, but it might work. None of you are fit enough to scale anything like this," Finland comments.

"But what about the thing that did this? What if it comes back?" America demands, gesturing to the ceiling. Worry shines in his eyes.

"We'll just have to be faster. But this might be our only chance. We have to take it," Russia replies, meeting his gaze. America looks skeptical but ultimately nods.

"Wait," Massachusetts says, holding his arm out.

"What is it?" Texas asks.

Massachusetts doesn't answer.

Then, something begins swirling around in front of him. It's dark brown but doesn't seem malicious. It forms into a flat disk, and Connecticut's face solidifies. Once it does, Connecticut mutters something.

"Thank God. I didn't think this would work. Hi Massy," Connecticut says.

"Wait, who else is with him?" someone screams from behind him.

Delaware pokes his head into view.

"MASS!" Delaware shouts.

"Hi, Del. Could you get everyone else? We have some updates."

"Okay. Hold on," Delaware says, before disappearing.

"You look like s***," Connecticut says flatly.

"You think I don't know?"

Connecticut laughs.

"But Sett, if this is working now, why haven't you tried to contact us again, you a**hole."

Massachusetts laughs nervously and rubs the back of his neck.

"There's a lot going on. That and I haven't been able to recharge my magic past being able to summon some light."

"Yikes. That exhausted, huh?"

"Yup. This f***ing adventure is horrible, but it's worth it."

"Massy, they're here!" Delaware calls. The others react immediately, and a cacophony of noise erupts.

"Massy?"

"Y'all are talking to Mass-hole? Awesome!"

"Hi, Sett!"

Dixie runs into the frame, staring into the message with panic before he calms slightly.

"You best not scare me like that ever again, you hear me?"

"Okay, Uncle Dix. So, any new news from above?"

"Philippines went missing a while ago. Indonesia and Malasia have been going crazy. I'm just hoping he's okay. There are also more countries that I can't remember off the top of my head going missing."

"Well, we've got some good news. So, we found Dad and Philip! Finland is also with us right now."

"Really?!" a state shouts.

"Yup. Come on," Massachusetts says, waving them over.

The second America stands beside Massachusetts, the states cheer.

"Dixie, where's Hawaii and Alaska? Where are you? I don't recognize it," America says.

Dixie laughs nervously.

"We're in a hotel in Denver. We're gonna drive out to where y'all were before all y'all disappeared."

"Ooh! Maybe my hat's still there," Texas says. His voice is softer than usual. Russia notes he looks pale.

"And Alaska? Hawaii?" America questions.

"Well, they're staying with Soviet and them."

"What?" Russia asks.

"Well, 'Laska is too young to be coming with us, so we sent her with Hawaii to stay with someone else."

"But why my papa?"

"Well, from what I'm told, West Virginia actually met him at one point during the Cold War. He wasn't getting the funding he needed, so he actually reached out to the USSR. But not anyone said a word 'bout it though. Not even Khrushchev knew."

Russia goes quiet.

'That's how he knew?'

"So, Amy, what's the plan here?" Dixie asks.

"Don't call me that. And I'm not sure yet. There is something a lot bigger going on here. it's like these things are being trained for something. I don't know what this is, but it can't be good. It's too organized to be just some unusually aggressive monsters, Dix. And way too much magic."

"So you're sayin' you think the magic is being channeled?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure how else to explain it," America says.

"Well, just so y'all know, this trip has gotten real creepy, right 'Bama?" Mississippi interjects.

"Yeah! Pops, we've been watched!"

"Watched?"

"Yeah! All sorts of weird cameras and stuff. They're all over the place!"

"Dixie?"

"Yeah, Amy. They ain't lying or nothin'. Tiny blinkin' red lights. It's been weird. All of 'em also have a strange symbol, kinda like a logo if you ask me."

America hums.

"We've been seein' them down here too!" Texas says.

"Yup. Those f***ers are watching us," Massachusetts adds.

"York, have you been able to find anything matching it?" America asks.

"No, not yet pops. I'm looking, but I have to say, it's not easy."

"Where do y'all think you are?" Dixie asks.

"I'm not sure. We've been wandering around down here for a while. We are still near the mountains, but I can't get any more specific," America replies.

"We also might be getting out of here soon," Finland adds.

"What do you mean?" New York asks.

"We are in a 'training room' right now. Don't look around, it's graphic. But we have spotted a doorway in one of the walls. We will be trying to escape through it," Finland says.

New York nods and then disappears from view.

"Dix, don't follow us in here," America says.

"What? Why not?"

"There's illusion magic, and if you try, you'll get lost and the kids will get hurt."

"Okay, Amy. If you're sure."

"Absolutely. We might need some help to get all the way out of here, but let us start the leg work, okay?"

"Fine. But you better call me the second you get out of... wherever you are."

"We'll have to steal a phone to do that. Mass and I are magically exhausted."

"Do what you have to. Connecticut is getting pretty tired, so we'll have to end this."

"Okay. Keep them safe."

"Gotcha. Well, it's definitely nice to know all of you are okay."

America nods and offers a small smile.

"Bye. And bye kiddos. Love you!"

A chorus of voices rings out, saying, "We love you too, dad! Bye!"

The message dissipates.

America's shoulders drop. Canada puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just relieved that they're all okay."

Canada nods.

"It was nice seeing them again," Louisiana says.

"Well, come on! What are we waiting for? They're waiting for us. Let's get out of here!" Philippines cheers.

America nods and a smile grows on his face. Determination paints his features.

'He's attractive.'

Russia couldn't argue, but does distance himself.

'No. Focus on collecting rocks. No looking.'

Russia tries to keep his eyes on the ground but always finds himself looking back at America, who laughs with Texas over something the state had said.

America's laughter fills Russia's stomach with butterflies. He stares for a moment before tripping. He lands hard on the ground. His face grows warm.

"Russ, you good?" America calls.

More heat floods Russia's face and he looks away. He stands up and brushes himself off.

"I'm fine, America."

America gives a thumbs up and a grin. Russia feels his heart skip a beat and a lovesick smile grows on his face. He turns away, covering his mouth.

'I'm in too deep.'

Chapter Text

'Why does America have to be so distracting?'

Russia shakes his head to clear it and then nearly walks into a wall. He stumbles to a stop, and a few of the smaller rocks in his arms clatter to the ground. He turns to the pile and drops the arm fulls of stones onto the pile.

The mound grows at a sluggish pace.

"Soooo..." Massachusetts says from behind him. Russia jumps.

"I see you've been eyeing Dad."

Russia's face goes red.

"N-"

"No, don't deny it. All us 'kids' know. We can see you, you know. I think 'Nada is ignoring it and Finland doesn't care. But we know what's going on," Massachusetts says, gesturing to the other states and Philippines.

Russia looks away, and stares at the floor, wishing it would open and swallow him whole.

"Now give me one good reason I shouldn't tell you to f*** off," Massachusetts says with a smirk.

"..."

"Come on. Most people don't even get this chance."

"I-"

"Massachusetts, stop antagonizing Russia!" America scolds.

"Okay, sorry pops," Massachusetts replies before turning back to Russia, "hurt him, and we'll make you pay, got it?"

Russia nods quickly. Massachusetts smiles and walks away.

Russia's hands shake and he tries to calm his breathing as best as he can. Once he manages to calm himself down, his attention returns to America.

'He looks perfect.'

As dirty as he looked, as tired as his eyes were, he shined.

As soon as the thoughts register, Russia looks away.

'No. Not this. It's not allowed.'

He tries to focus on anything but the red filling his face.

'If I could- no I can't. But maybe- no.'

His heart clenches at the thoughts racing through his head. Russia wants to reach out, pull him in, and hold him tight. Instead, he mindlessly continues collecting stones, trying to ignore the dripping from the ceiling.

His eyes gravitate toward the light blue light, but he pulls them away.

'This is wrong,' he scolds himself, 'this is wrong. Stop. He shouldn't be so pretty. Maybe if he wasn't, trying to ignore him would be easier.'

Russia tries to rub the blush off his face but doesn't have any luck. His cheeks still feel warm.

"Russ. Can you come here for a second? I wanna talk to you," America says.

"Okay," Russia calls back, cursing himself over how his voice had cracked.

Russia first dumps the rocks he's collected into the pile. He takes a deep breath. He squares back his shoulders and takes on a more confident posture.

'It's only America. It's only America,' he tells himself. Not surprisingly, this doesn't help. He walks over.

"What is it?" Russia asks, praying that his face looks normal.

"Well, you've been acting kinda weird. And hey, listen, if I made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," America says bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck and averting his eyes. Russia watches his face go pink.

Russia's heart drops.

"No, America. It isn't you."

'At least, not in the way your thinking.'

America sighs. He looks relieved, but Russia can't place why.

"Okay. That's good," America says with a nervous chuckle. Russia sees the pink darken to a deep red.

'The red on his face is adorable,' he thinks, 'maybe I can make him look like that again.'

Russia chokes on the thought and looks away. His face burns while his mind produces countless inappropriate images surrounding Meri. He has to change his focus or he risks having another problem to deal with.

He averts his eyes and thinks about some of the things he had seen in the past few hours. The excitement and heat leave him immediately. A chill runs down his spine.

"Are you okay?" America asks.

"Yes."

"Then why are you acting so weird?"

Russia doesn't answer. America sighs.

"If you don't wanna talk about it, I won't push it. But I'm here if you need me, okay?"

"...okay. Thank you."

"No problem. Come on, help me move some of the boulders around here."

Russia nods and follows him over to a large rock tucked against a wall outside of the room.

They roll it over to the pile, and the states help rearrange it to stack more vertically. Texas stands beside it. He's sweating, and his eyes are wide. His face looks pale.

Russia looks around and sees America preoccupied with Philippines. He turns back and slowly approaches Texas.

"Texas?"

Texas jumps.

"Oh. It's just you."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"You're pale and jumpy. Is it the bodies?" Russia asks. His voice catches on 'bodies,' but he can't think of another way to phrase the sentence.

Texas goes quiet for a moment before answering.

"Yeah."

Russia waits for him to elaborate.

"It's the ceiling. I'll be looking around, and one of the faces will catch my attention and... I know that all the states are fine, but..."

Russia sighs.

"It will be alright. We will get out of here, and you will see that all your siblings are alive and well."

"God, I hope so."

Texas walks off, helping Massachusetts and Louisiana. Russia turns around and sees America waiting for him. America was looking at him, but when Russia met his eyes, America quickly looked away.

His heart swells. A smile grows on his face before he can stop it. America looks away with a matching grin and pink tinted cheeks.

Russia walks over, happy.

'This is wrong,' something whispers in the recesses of his mind.

'But I'm happy,' he retorts.

He offers a grin to America, who ducks his head and giggles.

"Come on. Let's go find some big f***in' rocks," America says, his smile audible in his voice.

Russia agrees. And even doing something as simple as pulling a bunch of rocks together, America made it fun. Russia smiles.

He happily follows behind America, and they add to the pile. Throwing them to the top is fun, especially trying to beat America's strength and accuracy.

"How are you good at this?"

"Baseball," Canada answers.

America smirks and nods before reeling back and chucking the stone at the door, hitting it in its center.

"America, pick someone and stand guard," Finland says.

"What?"

"I heard something moving around. You have light. Pick a partner and keep watch."

America shrugs, dropping the rest of his rocks at Canada's feet. Then he turns to Russia with a smile.

He grabs Russia's hand.

"Come on."

Russia looks down at their hands and feels giddy.

Happy.

Warm.

And even with something in his mind insisting that it's wrong, Russia finds that he couldn't care less.

Wrong or not, Russia decides that this, whatever it is, is worth it.

Chapter Text

They walk together to keep watch, and Russia listens closely to the sounds around them. He also notices America's nervous look. He pulls him a little closer, and America's face flushes red. Russia shuffles a little closer with a small smile. America playfully headbutts him.

Russia laughs and rubs the side of his head. He lets go of America's hand and begins scanning the surroundings. America does the same.

"Do you hear anything?" America asks over his shoulder.

"No. Not yet. We should still stay. I don't want the children to get hurt," Russia replies.

Russia had expected America to agree. Instead, America doesn't reply. He turns around and sees America staring at him with a look of wonder that morphs into a goofy smile.

"What?"

"Nothing. Nothing," America replies dismissively.

Russia smiles back, and America's face turns pink as he looks away.

'He's cute.'

Russia smiles wider at the thought but forces his attention back onto the shadows around him.

"Can you make the light any brighter?"

"Yeah. Hold on."

After a moment, the walls farther down the passage are illuminated by light blue. Russia frowns.

"This doesn't look right," Russia says, backing up a little.

America hums, and they back into each other.

"We should go back to the others. Now," America demands.

Russia agrees and hurries behind him. They reenter the room, which, for better or worse, hasn't changed.

"What's wrong? Did you see something?" Finland questions.

"No. But stuff definitely changed," America says.

"Like the walls?" Philippines asks, his voice shaking slightly.

America nods.

"What do y'all mean the walls changed?" Texas exclaims.

"We mean exactly what we said. The hallways changed. I don't think we would be able to backtrack anywhere," America explains.

"You don't seem at all surprised about that bulls***. Has the happened before?" Massachusetts says.

"Yes. We were..manipulated. There was a lot of magic involved," America says, his words choppy.

Russia looks over, concerned. America looks down at his feet and chews on his lip. After running a hand through his hair, America continues.

"It was a whirlwind. And whatever is behind that door is responsible."

"Well, we don't know that," Canada remarks.

"What do you mean? Why else would that be there?"

"All I'm saying is that maybe we'll find some allies too."

"Probably not," Russia interjects, shaking his head.

"Thank you. Anyway, how close are we to reaching it?"

"We're getting close, but it's taking a while," Louisiana reports from the rock pile. She precariously stands on the top and reaches for the door. It is about a meter out of her reach.

"Well, we should finish and get out of here," America says, and he waves the states and Philippines away to continue collecting rocks. Finland and Canada follow.

"Hey Mass," America calls.

"Yeah?"

"It is alright if I dismiss my light?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

America sighs and shakes his hand, extinguishing the light.

"Why did you do that?" Russia asks, gesturing with his hand.

"What? Shake it? Oh. That's just 'cause I'm tired. It's easier to put out that way," America replies, before looking away.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine."

"How's your pain?"

"It's...to be honest, it's getting a lot worse."

Russia looks over with a concerned frown and offers him a hand. America takes it with a tight squeeze. America's face falls into a grimace, and he turns away from the states. He reaches around with his other arm and clutches at his stomach.

"God, it hurts."

"You should tell them."

"I know. I know," America mutters, waving him off.

America tightens his grip on Russia's hand, and Russia's fingers ache, but he doesn't pull away. America leans over, gripping his torso. Russia's eyebrows furrow and he puts a hand on America's shoulder. America sighs.

"It comes and goes. Most of the time it's bearable. You know, I can ignore it, mostly. Sure, it makes me tired, and just thinking about climbing anything makes me want to throw up, but it's okay. But now... Now I might just cry," America mumbles through clenched teeth.

"It feels like I'm being pulled apart," America whimpers, his voice cracking.

Russia leans over and gently traces circles on America's back. He tries to stay calm but seeing him in so much pain has his mind in a panic.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" Russia asks, a bit of desperation creeping into his voice.

"No," America says between breaths, "not really. I just... I just have to wait it out."

Russia watches on, feeling helpless. He looks around the room for some kind of help and catches Canada's eye. Canada swiftly walks over.

"Aim?" Canada asks, panic showing in his voice.

"Russ, can you..?" America huffs. Russia nods and looks up to meet Canada's eyes.

"He's been having civil unrest. He says it's been getting worse," Russia explains.

"Oh no," Canada breaths.

"I'll be okay," America says with a pained gasp, waving Canada off, "I just need a minute. Go help them."

Canada gives America a skeptical look and Russia a lost one. Russia nods before returning his attention to America.

America's breathing finally begins to calm down. It still sounds too labored for Russia's liking, but it's better, he decides. America stumbles back to his feet.

"I'm sorry about that," America mutters, looking away.

"Hey," Russia says gently, "that was not your fault. Don't apologize."

"But-"

"No. It's not your fault," Russia says, leaving no room for argument. America begins to sway, and Russia grabs his shoulders to steady him.

America sighs, his head tucked against his chest. Russia watches, and his heart clenches when he sees a few tears fall from America's face. He pulls America closer, and America doesn't resist.

"Hey. I'm here. It's not your fault. And it's only a little bit longer until we get out of here," Russia whispers.

America takes a deep, stuttering breath and forces it out in a short burst. He looks up, and Russia feels his heart freeze at the tears running down his face. America tries to swipe them away but only manages to smear them across his face.

Russia couldn't take it anymore. He chokes back his own emotions and pulls America into a bear hug. America clings to him and silently cries into his chest. Butterflies fill his stomach at the close contact, but he swallows them back.

'No. Now is not the time. Comfort first.'

America sniffles and pulls away. Russia releases his grip but stays close.

"Heh. Thanks," America says with a sniff, "that helped."

America flashes him a watery grin, and Russia swallows back his emotions to return a gentle smile.

His body burns with anger. He feels enraged by the world, the cameras, the person behind this, and whatever was causing America so much pain.

Rage boils up his throat. It burns on its way up like acid, and his eyesight takes on a reddish tinge. He forcefully swallows it back and blinks away the furious and frustrated tears that begin to collect behind his eyes. His chest burns with scalding hot fury.

He feels the need to lash out at the world that put them here, like this. But looking at America, he knew he can't. He had to be stable. He had to be here.

"Russia?" America calls quietly, reaching out a hand.

Russia realizes that he had been glaring daggers into the walls in front of him. He blinks it away and buries the feelings deep in his chest. He feels them eating away at him, but he refuses to take them out on anyone like America or the kids. He can't lash out. Not now.

"I'm okay. I'm here," Russia replies.

Then he hears someone approaching them.

"Is dad gonna be okay? Canada said that he wasn't doin' so good," Texas says from behind him.

Russia turns and sees Texas standing with his siblings just behind him. He smiles at their concern.

'Sweet children.'

"Yeah, kiddos. I'm fine. I'm just..."

Russia gives him an expectant look, and America looks away.

"There's some civil unrest in all the states and it's getting worse. I'll be okay, I promise."

"WHAT?!" Massachusetts exclaims, pushing his way to the front, "And you didn't motherf***ing tell us?!"

"I didn't want you to worry,"

The states go quiet. Philippines sighs.

"You could've still told us," Philippines mutters.

"Listen, I'll be fine. You guys should finish up stacking the rocks. Stay close though," America says dismissively.

The states and Philippines look unsure but ultimately agree. They leave, but Russia catches them glancing back with concern.

"Listen, Russ," America starts. He reaches out and pulls RUssia over by his hand. Russia stares at him in shock and he feels his face heat up and the butterflies come back at full force.

"But before anything happens, Russia.."

"I like you. A lot. Maybe it's just my nerves getting to me, but I have to tell you before we go through that d*** door."

America goes quiet for a moment before continuing with a sigh.

"Listen, if we get out of here. I want to give us a chance."

Russia's mind spins and his mouth goes dry. His heart does flips in his chest.

America begins pulling away.

"I mean, if you don't feel the same we don't-"

Russia pulls him back.

"America, you never let me answer."

America looks away, his face reddening.

"I would love to give a relationship a try."

America looks up at him with tears in his eyes, but a wide smile growing across his face, and he pulls him into a tight hug. America is shaking slightly, and Russia gathers him up. He holds on tightly, as if to pull him back together. He can't tell if America is laughing or crying.

They would make it out of here alive.

'I will make sure of it.'

Chapter Text

Russia stares up at the door. Part of him feels terrified of opening it, but the other screamed at him to climb through it.

'It could be better.'

'Or so much worse.'

Working to a goal, like stacking rocks, is easy. But now, as they stand at the bottom of this massive pile, Russia begins to have second thoughts.

'We don't know what's behind it.'

'What do we do after we go through?'

The panic shows on his face, but before long, someone takes hold of his hand. He looks over and sees America looking up at him with a smile. Russia takes a deep breath and sighs.

"Who's going up first?" America asks.

No one volunteers. Finland sighs and mutters something under her breath. Russia rolls his eyes. Finland climbs up and pulls on the door. Some of the stones slip from under her feet, but she stays steady.

She cracks the door and immediately lets it go, her face white as a sheet. The door closes and Finland slides down the side of the pillar.

"What is it?" Russia questions.

"A laboratory. There are personnel around, and I just hope none of them saw me," Finland says, cautiously eyeing the door.

Russia feels his heart sink.

'What are we going to do?'

"We can't just leave it," America says, "chances are, someone already knows we're here."

"We'll have to make a break for it," Texas announces.

Louisiana nods sadly.

"Might be our only option. F***," Massachusetts mumbles.

"I really don't like this," Philippines mutters.

"Is there another way?" Canada asks.

America shakes his head.

"We should go while we can. Caught or not," America says, "worst-case scenario, we're caught. We could get more info that way. We have to take this."

"Are you going to be able to climb up?" Russia asks quietly.

"I think so, but..." America trails off.

"I'll carry you," Russia cuts in.

America blushes but nods in agreement. America climbs onto his back, and Russia helps prop him up.

"Make sure to hold on," Russia suggests, and he feels America tighten his grip.

Russia looks around at the others, who look apprehensive. The rage bubbles back.

"What are you waiting for. You heard him. This is our chance. I am not going to stand around and waste it!" Russia snaps.

He sighs as he calms down.

"I'm sorry for yelling," Russia apologizes, "but we have to go. Staying down here is a death sentence."

The states nod and scale the rocks with Philippines and Canada on their tails. Finland climbs ahead, and Russia stays at the back.

His heart pounds against his ribs.

'The only chance. Such a large risk of getting caught. But staying down here will end in death. We have to get out, contact help, and escape.'

Russia swallows.

'Easier said than done.'

Finland cracks the door and peeks in. She signals them to wait.

Blood rushes in Russia's ears and his hands shake. Adrenalin heightens his senses, and his periphery goes blank.

Then, Finland signals them to go, and they burst through the opening. Chaos envelopes them, and the bright lights nearly blind Russia. Once his eyes adjust, a bright white background blurs together in his mind's eye. Shocked faces in white labcoats watch as they speed by. Russia doesn't pay any attention to their flags

'One foot in front of the other. Keep going. GO!'

He faintly sees Massachusetts pocket a phone from one of the sterile looking tables. Now all that is left is to get out. Finland leads the charge, and they are met with no resistance.

But Russia knows that it is only temporary. As soon as they lose the element of surprise, they were f***ed.

His leg burns. He skids to a stop at one of the corners and puts America down.

"I can't carry you anymore, but we have to run," He says between pants. America nods with a grimace. They sprint to catch up with the others, who are about to take another turn. Texas pauses to direct them.

Blinding white, clean floors, dry air. It feels impossible. But it's real, as temporary as it seems in the moment.

He can hear shouting behind him. America pulls ahead, hunched over. Russia's leg begins cramping.

'Not as healed as I thought.'

He pushes through, even as he feels the wound pull itself back open. He bites back a groan and focuses on America.

'Have to keep up. Have to follow.'

His breathing is reduced to pained pants. Spots dance in his vision.

'We have to be close. Just a little farther.'

Desperation pushes him forward. His lungs burn for oxygen, his head is swimming, his vision disappearing, and his leg begins giving out underneath him.

'No. NO! I can't stop. I can't stop.'

Fear of his body just giving out fills his mind. He focuses instead on getting away from the people running after him.

Crash.

Russia tumbles over someone, and his head slams hard into the wall. His vision only returns enough to see frightened faces to his left and guards to his right.

He tries to stumble back to his feet. His leg shakes violently and gives out. He slams into the ground. His leg burns.

"Russia? Russia?!" America pleads from somewhere above.

'We're cornered,' his muddles mind reports.

'They're coming.'

His mind finally registers America's tone, and he tries again to stand. To protect. He pulls away from the arms grabbing him. He squints and spits out something metallic. He stands as tall as he can. The world sways, and he lurches to keep himself from falling over. He holds his hands out to either side and growls at the things. They talk to each other before grabbing at Russia again and trying to pull him away.

'Must protect.'

"*Don't touch them,*" he slurs.

Everything looks so fuzzy. Blurry masses of black get closer. Louisiana shrieks and Russia shoves them away.

'Hard to walk...Why?' he asks himself.

His brain feels foggy.

"*NO! NO TOUCHING THEM!*" he yells. His tongue feels like it's made of cotton balls. He swings his arms at the blobs. The blobs hit him with something. He falls to the ground. The world begins to go dark.

'No. no.'

The world fades to black.

Chapter Text

Russia hears faint talking around him, and his consciousness slowly returns. The noises sound muffled.

His head pounds. He sits up, and groans, holding his head. He slowly opens an eye. The world is a kaleidoscope of darkened colors. He closes it and begins to lie back down.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

He shoots up, and his head spins. he holds his head in his hands on instinct before willing himself to his feet. His leg throbs. He squints, trying to figure out what's going on.

A blast of frigid water slams into his chest and knocks him onto his back. His arms swing up to cover his face. Numbness nips at his fingertips in seconds. He grunts, and his head throbs, his leg in agony.

Once the water stops hitting him, he clenches his teeth to stop his shivering.

He hears more shrieking, and he sits up and tries to look around only to be knocked over by a blast to the back. The water hits a bruise on the back of his head and he screams.

"Move it," he hears someone bark.

After a moment, he's sent tumbling by a harsh kick to the side.

"Stop! Please. He's hurt," someone shouts.

'America.'

"Shut it," the voice snaps.

Russia struggles to his feet for fear of another kick. He stumbles.

A sharp point prods him in the back.

"Let's go," the voice grumbles.

'A guard.'

He limps forward, trying to keep his balance. Shivers wrack his body, and his sopping wet clothes suck away any heat he'd had.

The world begins to focus. He sees the others, also soaking wet and shivering, standing together in shackles. His arms are yanked behind him, and the force nearly sends him to the floor. He clenches his jaw as the cold metal snaps around his wrists. A chain hits the backs of his knees, and he's shoved forward. He stumbles, and someone catches him. He looks up and meets America's eyes.

He looks around and sees several groups of guards lines up around the room. Most of them are armed with electric batons or guns. Russia winces. The guards walk closer and he's grabbed and pulls away.

He looks to America, and America looks completely panicked. Then he's spun around and a prick to the small of his back guilds him down a maze of halls, all colored a dull grey. The fluorescent lights buzz above.

He enters an offshoot of the hallway and sees a block of four cells. He is lead to the one on the far left. The shackles are removed and he's thrown to the ground, and he hears the gate slam behind him. He shuffles to sit up and flexes his fingers. His hands shake like leaves.

'Cold.'

He hears another guard approaching and looks up to see Texas thrown into the adjacent cage. Then four men throw a thrashing Finland in the cell next to his own. She screams in rage. Massachusetts is thrown into Texas, and they both tumble to the ground, loud curses could be heard from Massachusetts. Philippines and Louisiana are thrown in together in the cell next to their siblings. Canada is thrown in with Finland.

Russia looks around, searching for America, but doesn't hear any other guards for a few minutes.

"F***," Texas bites out between chattering teeth. Massachusetts spins around and stares.

"What?" Texas snaps.

Massachusetts shakes his head.

Then he hears yelling and a fight. A group of four guards struggles with America, who thrashes around, biting, scratching, and screaming.

They shove him into the cell with Russia and manage to shut the door before America slams into it. The guards lock it and curse at America under their breaths. America growls at them as they leave.

As soon as the door to the block closes, America looks over at the states.

"Are you guys okay?"

"Yeah. That water was freezing though," Louisiana answers, rubbing her wrists.

Then, he turns around and rushes to Russia's side.

"Oh, God! Are you okay? How much did they hurt you?" America rambles, checking him for injuries.

Russia lets him.

"I think I might have a concussion."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Hypothermia," Russia replies, pulling off his shirt. America pulls away and covers his face.

"Russ! What are you doing?!"

"Wearing wet clothes makes hypothermia worse," Russia explains.

America hums and looks back with a red face. His flustered expression disappears almost immediately and he rockets to Russia's side.

A shiver runs up his spine as gentle fingers trace a large red spot on his side.

"Are you sure your okay?"

"Yes. It's only going to bruise. Now take off your clothes."

"WhAt?!" America squeaks. Massachusetts cackles.

Russia's face turns red as he registers what America was thinking.

"No. Not like that," he stutters out, "you have to warm up. Take off most of your clothes and lay them out to dry."

He turns to the states.

"You should too. Otherwise, you'll freeze," he says, trying to ignore the heat in his face.

Massachusetts calms down and nods.

He sits back after removing his pants, deciding to keep undergarments on for decency's sake. The floor is cold. He notes that the makeshift bandage must have been washed away when they were hosed down.

His leg is swollen and an angry red.

'Probably irritated by the cold water.'

He looks up and sees Massachusetts fussing over Texas.

"Just let me see."

"I'm fine, Mass!"

"Let me see!"

"Let him see," America interjects.

Texas sighs, and shows his shoulder.

Russia sighs in relief. The hole is gone. Some scar tissue began to grow around it and a nasty scab covers its center, but it isn't weeping infection. However, it is much larger than he had remembered. Though that's probably because of the improved lighting.

"What the f*** even happened to you?!" America shrieks.

'Oh yeah.'

"America, calm down," He says.

America whips around, and his fiery eyes lock onto Russia.

"What happened to him?" he hisses.

"The monsters that dragged us into the cave attacked us first. Texas tried to shoot it. The bullet ricocheted and hit him."

"That is not a bullet wound."

"Well pops," Texas says, an arm in front of him as if to soothe America's rage, "it ain't Russia's fault, so stop yellin' at him. I reckon the monsters like blood 'cause once it happened, one of 'em started diggin' into my shoulder."

"WHAT?!"

"POPS! I'm okay! I'm okay. Remember?"

America falls onto his knees.

"Dad, this ain't your fault!" Texas insists.

America doesn't respond. Texas sighs. Russia crawls over to America and places a hand on his shoulder.

'What are we going to do now?'

Chapter Text

The longer Russia stares out the bars of the cage, the tighter his chest gets. His face contorts into a snarl and he clenches his fists. Fury creeps up his throat, and the back of his mouth burns with the need to cry out.

He takes a heaving breath and begins to scream.

"*Why us? WHY? What the F*** is even happening? WHY? This isn't fair. This ISN'T FAIR! We're exhausted and hurt. Isn't that enough?! I want to go home to my family! I WANT TO GO HOME!*"

He screams wordlessly, glaring at the dreary world around him.

"*I have had enough! They've had ENOUGH! We want to leave! WE ARE DONE WITH THIS GODD*** BULLS***!*"

His voice grows hoarse with every word. He feels tears gathering behind his eyes. He chokes on his words.

The fury drains out of him. The energy it brought. The fiery spirit. Gone.

All that remains is a pit of longing and bitter resentment.

"*We want to go home...*" he trails off. The first tear streaks down his face.

"*I just want to go home,*" he mutters.

He shuts his eyes tightly, trying to stem his tears. He chokes on the sobs that force their way out of his chest. It feels unfair. He should be strong. There are children here. They should be allowed to cry. Not him. White-hot shame runs through his body. He shudders and curls up onto himself. He tries to stop his crying, biting his tongue and burying his face in his hands.

"Hey," America says gently, grabbing his hands to pull them away.

Russia jerks away. His stomach tightens into knots.

"Hey," America whispers, gently grasping his wrists.

This time, Russia relents.

His hands fall and they shake in his lap. His chest aches. He breaths in short gasps, trying to hold his breath to keep any more crying at bay.

"Look at me."

Russia looks up, and through his tears, he sees America looking at him with a gentle smile and kind eyes.

"It's okay to cry, okay?"

Russia vigorously shakes his head.

'It is not,' his mind argues, but he can't bring himself to say it.

Even still, his chest tightens more with every bit he swallows back. He looks away and drops his head.

Russia feels his face being wrapped by America's hands. Calloused, but gentle. Russia can feel him using his thumbs to wipe away the tears.

The care behind the motion causes the emotions to come tumbling out.

He leans heavily against America's hands. Shivers shake his hands and weepings rocks his chest. He cries from fear, sadness, longing, grief, though grief for what, he isn't sure.

He feels America press their foreheads together, but can't bring himself to look up and meet America's eyes. He feels so dirty.

'I am an adult. I should be able to control myself.'

"There's nothing wrong with crying," America whispers.

Russia feels warm water hit his hands. He draws away and opens his eyes.

America crying too. Silent tears drip down his face, but a shaky smile stays. America pulls his hands back and he opens them for a hug.

Russia grabs him tightly, crying into his shoulder. America just hums softly and rubs soft circles on his back. Russia still feels America's tears drop onto his shoulder.

When he finally calms down, he pulls away with a wince. His chest feels lighter, but with the overwhelming anger and sadness gone, shame takes its place.

"*I'm sorry.*"

"*Don't be. It's all okay,*" America replies, brushing off his shoulder.

Russia looks away and wipes his face. He glances at the others in the surrounding cells and notices all of them had looked away. His eyes return to his lap.

Then he hears someone walking in. Heavy footfalls ring out from the hallway, but he can't see whoever is coming.

He hears something being thrown at Canada and Finland. It sounds like cloth.

"Now that yer done screaming, I can give ye yer change of clothes," a gruff voice mumbles.

A soldier walks out with some kind of cloth in his arms. He shoves some of it through the slats of the gate. America gets up and picks it up skeptically.

"Why are you giving these to us?"

"Do ye want me to take it back?"

America doesn't reply. Instead, he straightens one of the pieces of cloth to reveal a dull brown tunic. He begins to put it on and tosses Russia the other one.

Russia pulls it over his head. It's baggy, and the material is itchy, but it's dry. If he were to stand, the fabric would reach his knees, and the sleeves cover his arms.

Russia sighs, and tucks himself into a corner of the cell next to one of the cots and away from the bathroom utilities and the bars. He sits for a few minutes, listening to static-y thoughts.

"Hey, Russ."

Russia looks up.

"Sit with me? It isn't any softer, but it's at least a little warmer than the floor," America offers, sitting on the cot next to him.

Russia hops up and loses the little isolation he had cultivated. He can now hear talking from the people around him, but he doesn't bother to listen in on their conversations.

He sits quietly on the end of the cot, lost in thought when America inches closer. He doesn't think too much of it until they are nearly shoulder to shoulder.

He looks over, curious, and sees America look away with a blush.

"What is it? Is something wrong?" Russia asks.

"No. Nothing's wrong," America says.

...

"Can I ask you a question?" America says, and his voice cracks.

Russia nods and looks over, meeting America's eyes.

"Can I kiss you?"

Russia's brain short circuits, and it feels like his mind had bluescreened. He shakes his head as if to reset it.

"Now?" Russia whispers.

America nods with an embarrassed look.

"I know it isn't a good time, but," America sighs, "please?"

Russia nervously glances at the states and Philippines and sees that they are talking among themselves.

"Yes," Russia answers, his heart pounding out of his chest.

"Really?" America mutters.

Russia nods. America closes his eyes, and Russia does the same. Russia leans forward, tilting his head, and their lips meet.

The second they touch, fireworks go off in Russia's head. He feels like he's flying.

His body feels fuzzy and warm and electric. He presses closer into the kiss, and America laces his fingers through his hair.

He grabs America by the hips and pulls him into his lap. Russia pushes, trying to get a taste of anything he can. America straddles him and begins licking Russia's lips.

Russia opens his mouth and electricity fills the air as America explores. Russia pushes back and returns the favor. His hands drift down, and so does the heat.

America bits him gently on the lip before pulling away. Russia feels a bit disappointed it had to end.

'More friction. More. More!'

He pulls America down. Closer.

America gives Russia a proud smile before leaning over to whisper in his ear.

"You are quite the kisser, Ruski," America mutters.

Hot air brushes against Russia's neck. His hair stands on end and he shivers.

"You're not so bad yourself," Russia replies, his eyes only half-open. He leans in for another taste.

"Hey!" someone shouts, "we're still here you know."

Russia's head jerks back in surprise. He sees Massachusetts smirking at them and Louisiana and Philippines clapping. Texas sits behind Massachusetts and looks bemused by his siblings' behavior.

"F***ing finally," Massachusetts taunts.

"What's going on?" Canada asks.

"Papa and Russia were making out," Philippines answers.

"Oh. Good for you, Aim. You got him good, eh?" Canada says with a laugh.

Russia blushes but doesn't pull away. America giggles and buries his face into Russia's chest. Russia feels a proud smile form on his face and he hugs America just a little tighter. He nuzzles the top of America's head.

"Y'all are sweet and all," Texas says, looking a little embarrassed, "but we still got a problem."

"No s*** Sherlock," Massachusetts replies, "but we can let them have a moment."

Texas glares at him and Massachusetts shrugs. Louisiana sighs and rubs her forehead.

"In other news," Massachusetts says, digging through the pockets of his pants. Russia watches curiously.

After a second of searching, Massachusetts holds something up victoriously.

"A phone," Russia says breathlessly.

The phone itself is nothing special. It's a simple flip phone. It looks very similar to the prepaid phones he had seen buying camping supplies.

"Well, does it work?" Finland asks.

"We're about to find out," Massachusetts replies.

Massachusetts flips it open and begins playing with the buttons. America gets up and walks over to the gate to get a closer look.

"Yes!" Massachusetts cheers.

Massachusetts begins typing.

The door to the block swings open.

One of the bigger guards walks in with two others at his sides. Russia freezes.

Texas steps in front of Massachusetts and Massachusetts finishes dialing.

The guards open the door and two of them enter and approach Massachusetts. A third stays behind to guard the cell door.

Texas moves to stay between the guards and Massachusetts.

"Touch either of them and you are dead," America threatens, clutching at the bars.

The guards shrug and shove Texas aside. Texas lands on his injured shoulder with a yelp. America throws out a hand, but the magic only sputters at his fingertips.

"Motherf***er!" America screams.

"NO!" Massachusetts shouts, ducking to avoid the guards' advances. He clutches the phone to his chest.

"I'm not letting you have this YOU F***ERS!" Massachusetts shouts, running around the cell, playing keep away.

Texas gets back to his feet and uses his good shoulder to buy Massachusetts time, knocking the larger of the guards to the ground.

"Yorkie-boy! Hi! Track this!" Massachusetts shouts into the phone, hopping between the cots. The smaller guard is on his tail.

Massachusetts squeals when the guard grabs his ankle. He hits the cots with a bang. However, before the guard can snatch the device, he curls up around it.

Texas runs over, and tackles the guard off of his brother, saying something Russia assumes is Spanish curses.

"Don't touch my brother!" He screams, dropping the smaller guard and shoving back the, now recovered, larger guard.

Massachusetts pulls the phone up to his ear.

"You got it?" he asks quickly.

Then, Massachusetts snaps the phone in half and launches the pieces into the nearby wall. The halves shatter on impact.

The guards growl in annoyance. Texas stays near Massachusetts, even as they leave with the salvageable pieces of the phone, leaving most of it in pieces in the cell.

"One thing's for sure, they wouldn't be getting nothing from the darn thing," Texas comments.

Massachusetts grins, and the two high five.

"Are both of you okay?" America asks.

"I'm good," Texas answers, "my shoulder just feels a little sore. Massy?"

"Don't call me that, d***head. I'm fine, dad. Much better now that the cavalry is coming."

Louisiana laughs. "They're gonna burn this whole place down," she says.

"And I for one can't wait to see them do it," America says.

Russia smiles.

America releases the bars, and with one last worried glance at Texas and Massachusetts, he walks back to the cots.

"Move your arms," he demands. Russia does so, feeling a little confused.

America sits back into Russia's lap, his legs kicked up on the rest of the cot, and Russia freezes up. His face immediately goes hot and his eyes open wide. His heart skips a few beats and rapidly pounds against his ribs.

"Meri?" Russia squeaks.

"What? You got a problem with it?" America asks, leaning his head on Russia's chest. Russia is positive he can hear just how fast his heart is pounding.

Russia shakes his head and gathers himself. He wraps his arms around America and laces his fingers together to keep his arms in place.

"Yep, definitely better than the cot," America says, tracing small shapes on the tunic over Russia's chest.

Russia grins through his mess of fuzzy feelings jumping around in his stomach.

Russia couldn't be happier.

Chapter Text

Russia sits back, content.

For now. America leans against him, head on his shoulder. Then, the shape drawing stops. Russia looks down out of curiosity and sees America shifting.

His face goes hot when America straddles him again, and Russia feels something stir in his hips with the way America moves, pressing against him in all the right ways. His arms hook around America's back.

America winks. A devious smirk on his face. Then, America's face disappears over his shoulder, and he feels his hot breath against his neck. He shivers.

"Now, let's figure out an escape plan," America whispers against his neck.

Russia's eyes go wide.

"Like this?" He whispers back.

"Yes. With what we did earlier, no one will be the wiser," America whispers, his breath brushing against Russia's neck.

"And no one will look any closer," Russia mutters, tucking his chin against America's shoulder.

America giggles.

"You can be much smarter than UK gives you credit for," Russia breaths.

"Damn right," America mutters, shifting his hips to get more comfortable. Russia feels the heat and pressure in his hips begin to cause a bit of a problem.

"And don't worry, we aren't doing anything in front of the kids, but watch out. As soon as I can get you alone, it's going to be fun~" America says, an audible smirk in his tone. Russia's hair stands on end at the comment, and he grins.

"And from the looks of it, you'd be more than willing to help," America teases.

"Definitely," Russia whispers.

America giggles again.

"Now, I'm going to explain a few things, okay?"

Russia hums.

"So, Dixie and them will be here soon. Very soon, if I had to guess. But this place is full of guards, researchers, and staff. From what I could see, the building is huge," America whispers. He begins moving his hands.

"Make sure you give the camera's a bit of a show. Sitting still is too suspicious," America mutters, lifting up his head and moving to tuck his mouth into the crook of Russia's neck. Russia lets out a low hum in acknowledgment. He moves his hands to America's thighs, and America shivers.

"God, don't do too much. You'll distract me," America hisses.

Russia giggles.

"Now, if we want anyone to find us, we're going to have to make a scene. A big one. Dixie'll know to follow it to find me," America mumbles against his neck, "brute strength won't break the bars, and magic is out of the question with the strength of wards placed on this place. So, what should we do?"

Russia begins to dig through his brain for a possible solution. Thoughts bounce around his head.

'Stealing a set of keys?'

'No, no guard in the block with them.'

'Try to break the handcuffs instead?'

'No. They won't be out of the cell in time.'

'Break the bars. But how? If only they would just-' Russia freezes.

'shatter.'

Images of people shattering to pieces under his fingertips surface. Blurry memories he had tried to forget.

"Hey, talk to me. What are you thinking?" America whispers, his fingers trailing up his back.

"I can do something that might help, but..." Russia trails off.

"Explain it to me," America mutters.

"It's not magic. At least, I don't think it is. I haven't used it much, so I'm really not sure," Russia explains, moving his hands to hook around America's thighs, "sorry, cameras. Anyway, I might be able to freeze the bars so they would be easy to break, but..."

"But what?" America prods.

"It's really hard to control. Everything I touch freezes the moment I touch it, alive or not," Russia mutters, "and I... its hurts to use. In order to freeze other things, I have to freeze."

"What do you mean? Something like Russian Winter?"

"Yes. I do not use it often. It is terrifying and very painful, but it might be the only way out."

America hums.

"Well, what happens if you do use it?"

"The area around me will drop below freezing, my lands will have a long, early, and severe winter. My body temperature will drop. I will begin to freeze."

"Wait, you'll freeze?"

"Yes. It starts at my fingers and toes and slowly spreads. It feels very painful, so it's very hard to control."

America hums, but stays quiet, waiting for Russia to continue.

"I think there were also blasts of ice involved, but I don't remember much from the German invasion. I think I was too focused on continuing than what I was doing."

"If you freeze when you're doing this, what happens when you finish attacking?"

"According to my papa, I collapse into a frozen heap. I needed to be warmed up and I couldn't move for a week."

America hums into his neck. Russia shivers. America sits up and tilts his head.

The two kiss. Russia leans into it, and he decides it also ends too soon. America moves his head back to Russia's shoulder and sinks his hips in a dramatic fashion.

"How long will you be able to do it?"

"I don't know. But I would be able to cause a lot of damage. You would have to make sure I don't hurt any of them on my rampage."

America responds with a small nod.

"And once it starts, I can't really stop. I need to keep moving and freezing things, or I will collapse."

"Okay. So once you start, we need to stay away from you until you pass out?"

"Yes."

America hums before whispering again.

"They're probably getting close," he remarks, "When do you want to do this, and should the rest of us follow behind you?"

"I'll start once I'm less distracted, and yes, but keep your distance."

America hums, pecks him on the cheek, and gets off to sit on the cot. Cool air hits Russia's face. Russia takes a deep breath.

He hears America stand up from the cot and approach the gate.

"You will have to be ready. Follow me, and follow my directions. You'll know your queue, just be ready to run," America directs. The states nod, and their confusion gives way to trust and determination.

Russia closes his eyes and reaches inward for anger and desperation, which is not hard to find. He taps into it, and it floods him with harsh feelings of fury, fear, and desperation as well as an overwhelming need to protect. He gasps as it fills his chest, his head, his body. The feelings give way to a stark cold.

'What if this time, I don't wake up?' his mind asks quietly.

'Papa said that there is a big risk of collapsing if I do this again,' he recalls.

Fear burrows into his chest. A primal fear of death and collapse. He fights against it, and sinks deeper into his mind, pulling forth the cold from his chest.

'This is the only way out,' he argues, 'I have to get America and the kids out of here.'

He feels his body begin to drastically cool down, dropping out of the normal range for personifications. He feels his nose and cheeks turn a dusty pink from cold.

'Tell him. It's already too late to turn back. Tell him in case you don't wake up,' his heart demands.

"America," he starts, "just in case I don't wake up after this is over."

His fingers go numb and his body fills with pins and needles that prick his very core. He sinks into his mind and stands up off the now frozen cot.

'Almost there.'

"I love you."

The air freezes.

Chapter Text

America's stomach sinks as he watches Russia focus. He flinches as Russia's face contorts in panic and anger. Dread takes hold in the pit of his stomach, though he isn't sure why. He takes a startled step back when the cot itself begins to ice over.

Russia's hands are dull now, and the fingers have a slightly bluish tint.

It feels unbelievable. Too good to be true.

"America," Russia starts, his voice shaky and unstable, "just in case I don't wake up after this is over, I love you."

The air freezes. America's heart stops.

America stares as his breath turns into visible puffs of air. With his heart in his throat, he watches as Russia stumbles forward and grasps the bars. Around his bare feet, an aura of ice and snow coat the ground.

'"Just in case I don't wake up after this is over."'

Russia's strained voice plays on repeat in America's mind. Fear grips his soul. He looks up and sees that the bars have completely frozen and Russia stepping aside.

'Have to be fast. Have to be fast,' his mind begins repeating alongside Russia's words. America charges forward.

His shoulder hits the ice, and the bars shatter.

He bites his lip and ignores the growing, pulsing pain emanated from his torso, and readies himself to break another sheet of ice. Looking up, he half-heartedly notes that as Russia froze more things, those things would freeze faster.

He breaks the remaining walls, and the other personifications snap out of their shock and walk with him.

"Don't touch him, don't get too close, and try to cause as big a commotion as we can," America instructs the others. The states mutely nod, and they walk slowly behind Russia.

It doesn't take long for America's toes to grow numb, walking on the frozen grounds Russia leaves behind. He also realizes that their pace begins to pick up speed. Russia had gone from an awkward, limping gait to a zombie-like stiff walk with long strides. He also sees that Russia isn't grabbing anything anymore, instead he's just hitting it with a half-closed fist.

They walk out from the block, leaving behind the mortified and frozen guards. Texas smashes the monitoring system as they pass.

America begins searching for a way to cause some destruction. Conflicted emotions swirl in his chest. Pain, confusion, anger, helplessness, and fear send him spiraling. He slams chairs into walls and sends file cabinets rocketing into the ceiling. Magic flies off of him in bright blue sparks.

Green balls of energy fly past his head, crashing into windows and walls indiscriminately.

He also hears angry screaming, and it takes a sore throat to realize he's doing it.

'What kind of send-off is "if I don't wake up"?!?!?! What the F***!'

America tosses a guard to his left for Texas and Philippines to beat and take down.

'If he dies, I'm gonna kill him. I love him, but he is soo f***ing dead at the end of all this.'

Suddenly, he feels his magic begin to saturate the area around him. It feels intoxicating, and all his hair stands on end.

'Now what the f*** am I supposed to do with this?!'

His magic boils with his emotions, and he can feel it begin to sour. He swallows it back and glares ahead. He has to get his kids out of here in one piece and then give everyone involved a good scolding, including Mr. I'm Going To Risk My Life And Country But Not Tell You That Part Until It's Too Late.

America scowls.

He hears a static voice underneath one of the desks. He stomps over to it and kicks the desk into a wall. Leaning over it, he finds a walkie talkie going insane about their escape.

'S***, we have to move.'

He looks at the rest of his group, who are now speedwalking to keep up with Russia's advances.

Looking at Russia, America notes that his face is gaunt, and the colors of his flag are dull. His movement is becoming less coordinated as they move, but he was at least speeding up.

He tastes the curdled magic in the back of his throat and gags.

'I can't keep it.'

He raises his hands to the sky and releases it. It lights up the hallway in an uneven blue beam that phases through the ceiling. In a flash, it was gone, and he stomps his way forward on freezing cold feet.

He turns back to the other countries, who were trying to stop the states and their trail of destruction. He eyes them with a narrow gaze.

"Stop," he says, and they all turn to look at him, "Destroy as much as you can. If we can leave a trail, we should, in case something else happens."

The states smile in ways that America would've worried about had it been in his house.

"LET'S F***ING DESTROY THIS F***ING H***HOLE!" Massachusetts cheers, summoning a large number of magic projectiles and launching them off in all different directions, leaving smoldering holes in people and walls alike. They make it to a large room with lots of hallways leading in and tables disbursed throughout. America can't tell what it was, but it seems like some kind of cafeteria.

Then America hears yelling and commotion surrounding them.

It sounds far too formal to be an ally. He spins around to meet face to face with a legion of people emerging from one of the hallways.

'They don't look like guards. Or cops.'

His eyes widen.

'They look like soldiers.'

Their flags are from all over the world, and many were from the states. They held up their guns, but before they can shoot, America charges them with Finland running alongside him. They break the formation, and Massachusetts sends groups of soldiers flying.

A soldier runs up to him and points his weapon right at America's head. America grabs it and yanks it away from a soldier. They have a New York flag.

America snarls.

"How dare you," he hisses. The soldier scampers away.

"TEXAS!" America shouts, throwing the weapon over his shoulder.

"Thanks pops!" Texas replies, and gunfire gets even louder.

The battlefield is left in absolute pandemonium.

America yanks another gun away from one of the soldiers firing at Canada and Philippines. He uses the butt of the gun to knock the soldier out before he begins firing at the crowd.

His heart clenches. Some of these people belong to his country, to his states.

'But so did most of those people they strung up like playthings.'

His resolve solidifies, and he continues his free firing rampage and he snags another gun off of a fallen soldier.

Soon, they are completely surrounded, and personal stream out from every opening.

"Don't give up!" Finland shouts, her tunic covered in splotches of blood, "just hold out until help gets here."

'I hope we can hold out that long.'

America spins and sees the flurry of motion that is Philippines. He notes with pride that the country seems right in his element, knocking people around with improvised weapons and taking down anyone foolish enough to approach him. He's fast on his feet and picked up knives or poles around him to take out any stragglers.

America continues scanning the room. Texas doesn't waste a shot, taking people out with shots to the legs and arms, trying to avoid killing any of them.

Louisiana has them spinning in circles around her.

Massachusetts laughs like a maniac and is transforming people into frogs and lizards at the drop of a hat.

Finland is in a league of her own, taking on 10 people, each almost twice her size, at a time and coming out on top.

Canada fends off attackers with one of the guns he must have picked up along the way.

Russia continues staggering forward, shoving people aside, freezing them before they hit the ground.

'Now it's time to shine.'

America's smirk turns to a wide grin. He sees some of the soldiers run away from him in fear.

'Oh, they had better be scared. Terrorizing my family, my kids.'

He takes one of the guns and charges into the fray with a scream.

He desperately holds onto his anger, his grief, to keep from breaking down. His scars throb with the beat of his heart, and seeing so many of his own citizens dead makes him want to puke.

But he couldn't allow his children to get hurt. He'll grieve later, he decides, squinting through the clouds of red to keep from being overwhelmed.

Suddenly, a sharp, shooting pain resonated from his lower back. He screams.

"Hah, no-" someone starts behind him, only to be cut off. America feels a rush of freezing air just behind him. He bites back another scream and he turns slightly to see a knife embedded to its hilt into his back. The end of the handle is covered in small pieces of ice.

He resists the urge to pull it out and straightens his back. His vision gets spotty, and he begins shivering. He shuffles on his feet to turn, and he sees the culprit who stabbed him completely encased in ice.

It's the stab wound in tandem with another sharp pang from his scars that sends him to his knees. He bites back a whimper.

The ceiling above them shakes. America's head shoots up at the sound, and another shout of pain escapes his mouth. He sees someone approach. He looks up and sees Russia standing above him.

America sees just how fast he's breathing while Russia freezes anything that moves in front of him. America notes with a breathless, giddy laugh that Russia looks almost protective.

However, a closer look at Russia has America in a panic. He struggles back to his feet, biting his tongue to keep from crying.

Russia's hands are covered in a thin layer of ice.

He also watches how Russia's breathing has slowed past any living human's normal breathing rate. Slow. Shallow.

'How much longer is he going to last?'

America stumbles and shoulder checks the nearby wall. The impact jostles the knife, and America's vision swims.

'Are we going to survive?'

He grabs a firearm from one of the corpses and shoots into the crowds. He surveys the others, and it doesn't look good.

Finland is doing okay, Massachusetts is draining himself too fast, and he's growing tired. Louisiana can't handle that many people. Philippines is being surrounded. Texas is trying to help Louisiana, but can only do so much with an injured arm. Canada is trying to help Massachusetts, but the two are being slowly overwhelmed.

'They keep coming.'

The ceiling shakes again, and pieces of it rain down on America. He tries to shake them off his face.

'Come on Dixie. Please. Please hear the fighting. Something.'

America feels so tired. He fights the heavy feeling with all he's worth and begins taking out as many of Philippines attackers as he can manage.

The ceiling explodes.

Chapter Text

*Beep* ........... *Beep* ............. *Beep*

The noise slowly fades into reality. The black gives way to louder black. Russia tries to get a feel for his surroundings only to find he can't move. He can't feel his hands either. Or his feet. Everything feels numb.

He tries to open his eyes, but can't.

He listens to the sounds around the room.

*Beep* ............. *Beep*

A heart monitor.

It sounds too slow.

'What's going on? Where am I? What happened? Did we get out?'

Russia thinks back to his last memories. They're fuzzy. And cold.

Flashes of white, screams, gunfire, and so much pain.

America got hurt, though he doesn't remember how. Must protect.

'Is he okay?'

He tries once more to open his eyes, but it feels like his eyelids are frozen shut. He's stuck.

'At least I didn't collapse.'

He listens to his surroundings again and notices soft snoring somewhere on his right. It doesn't sound like America.

'I wonder who that is.'

He tries his best to occupy his mind until a muffled shout grabs his attention. The snoring stops almost immediately.

"Whoa! Hey there- Amy, you gotta calm down," a voice says.

'Dixie,' his mind sluggishly recognizes.

Strangled gasping rings out for a few moments before it calms down. Then, there is a shaky, familiar voice.

"Hi, Dixie. 'm sorry. These d*** nightmares won't stop," America says with a soft whimper.

Russia feels his heart clench.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. Let's get those stitches re-checked though, okay?"

"Okay."

He hears someone steps out of the room for a moment and quiet talking he can't make out. Then that person returns to where they got up from.

'It was probably Dixie. I wonder what he's doing.'

There are a few moments of silence before someone else enters the room.

"Hello again, Mr. America. I was informed you wanted your wound dressings to be checked?" A new voice questions. They sound formal.

'A doctor,' his mind supplies.

"Yeah, please. Just woke up from another nightmare and wanna make sure I didn't rip any of it."

The room goes quiet again, and Russia can hear something being unwrapped.

"Well, it looks like the stitches have already dissolved. I must say, I'm always impressed by you nations and your ability to heal."

America chuckles.

"Thanks. So doc, what's the plan for now?"

"Take it easy and stay for monitoring."

"Can I get up?"

"You may need some help."

Russia hears some shuffling and a groan. Then he hears some footsteps approaching his bed.

Someone sits down in the chair next to him.

"Thanks, Dixie," America says, now much closer than he sounded before.

"No problem. Listen, I'm going back to sleep. Wake me up if you need anything."

"Sounds good to me," America replies.

There are a few moments of silence, save the heart monitor and America's breathing. Then the soft snoring continues.

America sighs.

Russia's hand tingles. It feels like something is touching it, but it's too numb to say for sure.

"God, your hands are freezing," America mutters.

A moment of silence.

"You're an idiot."

'Hey!'

"Seriously. You're such a f***ing idiot," America says, his voice cracks.

'Meri?'

"I never should've let you do that..."

'It was my choice.'

"Your dad called New York as soon as you started freezing stuff apparently. According to Dix, there was a lot of yelling, and he's planning to travel here to yell at you."

America laughs weakly.

"I think he plans to take a few of your siblings with him once they can get to the airport."

'They're probably snowed into the house.'

'Oops.'

"He says that you might be able to hear us. I mean, you're breathing by yourself, so that's a good sign. According to him, your body shuts down while it recovers, but you may still be mentally awake. Are you awake? Can you hear a single thing I've said?"

'I can hear you.'

America sighs.

"He also said '*You're a Godd*** IDIOT.*' I have to admit, I agree with him. You wanna know the last time we agreed on something? We agreed destroying the planet may not be the best idea during the Cold War."

Russia would've rolled his eyes if he could.

"And for f*** sake, what kind of goodbye is if I don't wake up, I love you?!" America says, his voice stricken with anger and grief.

Russia internally flinched. Not the best thing he could have said.

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset.'

"And you didn't even let me respond..... I love you too, you know."

'You do? Me?'

His hand feels more tingly, and the tingling turns to pins and needles. He also feels his arm moved.

"Maybe it's still too early to say. I know it probably is, but God. You protect and care about my kids, about me. You got me to trust you. H***, you even got Tex to trust ya."

America laughs sadly.

"And you ain't even awake enough to know it."

'I am awake!'

"Seriously though, you make me happy, and I don't even know if I'm ever going to get the chance to actually tell you."

America sniffles. Then muffled weeping.

It pulls at Russia's heartstrings.

'No! Don't cry over me!'

Oh, how he wished he could comfort America at all.

The weeping quiets after a few moments.

"Your father says there's still a large chance that you won't wake up. That you'll just crumble apart without another word..."

'I won't'

"You better not do that, you a**hole. I still expect an apology from you for not telling me you could die until it was too late for you to stop."

'I will wake up. I promise.'

"Alaska found out yesterday. Hawaii was talking to me on the phone, and Alaska walked in. Apparently, she cried for hours after hearing that you might die."

'What?'

"I think she sees you as another father figure. I'd bet staying with your family is doing it to her."

'She's with my family?'

America sighs.

The pins and needles get worse. More painful. His hand feels so hot.

"Your father also said that it will take more than a week to recover this time. And even if you are thawed out, you probably still won't be able to move for a while."

'My hand is burning. It has to be.'

"Oh. Your heart rate getting faster. Are you okay?"

'Something is wrong with my hand!'

"Oh who am I kidding, you can't tell me. You probably can't even hear me."

The pins and needles begin to fade, and though the sensation still feels overly dull, warmth slowly returns to his fingers.

Someone is holding his hand, warming it up. They are tracing small circles on the back of it with their thumb. It's comforting.

'I will wake up. I will. I promise.'

"I don't want to be alone. You'd better wake up. We have a lot to do."

'I will.'

"We have an army to take down."

'A what?!'

America yawns.

"I am so tired, but I can't sleep for long with these f***ing nightmares. Maybe I'll have better luck over here with you. That helped before."

America pulls his hand and presses it against something smooth and warm before laying it on the bed and tenderly holding it.

"You better wake up soon. You are not allowed to get me to love and trust you and then just up and die. Not allowed..."

America trails off, and his breathing evens out.

Russia focuses on the warmth around his hand.

Chapter Text

The room is quiet for a while, though Russia honestly had lost his sense of time since the dead animals incident.

America sleeps soundly at his side.

His hand feels so warm. So nice. His fingers slowly regain feelings. Fluttery feelings fill his head, but the lack of heat in his cheeks shoves reality back into his face.

'I'll never be able to move again,' he mentally groans.

Then he felt his fingers brush against the sheets.

'Wait. Was that ME?!'

Russia focuses once again on his hand. His fingers twitch.

He tries his toes, his other hand, his face, anything else.

Nothing else moves.

He returns his focus to his hand.

'Move. MOVE!'

His hand twitches again.

A groan to his right breaks his attention.

"Russ..?" America mumbles.

"No, there is no way that was you."

Russia focuses everything he has to move it again. His fingers begin to close around America.

America gasps.

"Russ!? Can you hear me?" Russia closes his hand as much as he can. His hand cramps halfway and he unwillingly relaxes it.

"Oh my God," America mumbles, "oh my god!"

He hears shuffling, and a gasp of pain. He feels the bed shift under his right hand, and extra pressure tucks against his left side.

"I was trying to hug you," America mumbles into his chest. Then he whines.

"But I don't think I can get up," America mutters.

'Uh oh.'

"God fucking damn it. Can't even stand," he groans.

He feels more shifting, and America yelps. The snoring stops.

Fast pace steps approach the bed, and Russia feels the pressure disappear.

"Amy! What were you doing!?" Dixie exclaims.

America whimpers.

Russia's heart clenches.

"Dixie... he heard me. I..."

Dixie sighs and Russia hears some more shuffling.

"You can't be doing that again," Dixie says, his voice muffled and lower than his standing height, "the only way you're going to heal is if you rest."

"I know. I just got excited. He was responding to me, Dix! He is," America insists quietly.

"Well, let's see if he can do it again. What did he do?"

"I was holding his hand and he started moving his fingers."

"Okay. Let's test it."

Someone else takes his hand. Dixie's hands are warmer, but Russia likes America's better; America's hands fit better.

"Alrighty Ruski, move your fingers so I can tell the states. And the docs."

Russia tries his best. His fingers twitch, and they curl around slightly.

"Well, I'll be damned. Amy, you're right. Well Ruski, can you move anything else?"

Russia tries his best to open his eyes. His eyelids remain stuck.

"I'll take that as a no. Well, Amy, I don't know what you did, but it's workin'."

"I was just holding it."

"Huh. Maybe you're warmin' him up. I'm sure Soviet will wanna hear about this."

"Yeah... Hey Dixie?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you help me onto Russia's bed?"

'That would be nice.'

"What? Why?"

"Because if me holding his hand helps, maybe..." America sighs, "nevermind."

"Ohh! You wanna cuddle up with your boyfriend, huh?"Dixie teases.

Russia can feel America's embarrassment. He internally cringes.

America mumbles something he didn't hear.

There is some shuffling. And his numb chest suddenly has a bit of extra pressure.

America shivers.

"You are a lot colder than I thought you would be. Dix, could you..?"

"Yeah, I'll send one of the states to grab y'all some more blankets."

There is some walking and a short conversation before the door shuts again. But now, there are two sets of footsteps in the room.

"Hey dad," Massachusetts says.

"Oh, hey kiddo. What's up?"

"Not much. Just wanted to see what you were doing with your magic."

"Oh, I didn't know I was using it."

"Well, I knew you might use it to help heal, but it feels like you're also channeling it somewhere."

A knock at the door and the talking ceases.

"Come in," Dixie calls.

"Hey, it's New York," someone, New York, says from where Russia had mentally imagined the doorway.

"What's up?" Dixie asks.

"Well, Soviet says that Russia being able to move his hand should be impossible."

"Well, it happened," Dixie defends.

"It could have something to do with Dad's magic," Massachusetts interjects.

"Really, what's happening with it?"

The door opens, but the talking continues.

"I think Dad has been channeling it into Russia. It's weird though. That shouldn't work unless Russia can use magic too."

'Do I have magic??'

"He did do that ice thing," Texas says from close by. Then something drops on top of him with a 'whump'.

"Thanks," America mumbles.

"So maybe it is magic," Massachusetts says.

"He did say it might have been, but that he wasn't sure," America says.

'It's the only thing that would make sense now.'

"When did he say that?" Texas asks.

"When we were 'having fun' right before we escaped, most of that was a show for the cameras so we could try to plan our escape without alerting the guards," America replies.

'Maybe we could still have some fun as soon as I'm awake,' he thinks.

"Huh."

"Texas!" someone calls from outside the room.

"I'll be right back. I'll see y'all later," Texas says, and the door announces his exit.

"Bye Tex," Dixie says.

"..."

"I don't think we should stay here," America says, "at least, not for much longer."

"How much have you heard?" Dixie asks.

"The knife went 'missing' and the fact that the nurses keep coming in here to see if anyone is alone."

'That isn't good. At all. And what knife? What is he talking about?'

"There's more," Massachusetts says, "they've been trying to hack into New York's computer through the Wifi. Cali has been able to feed them false information through it, but something really f***ing fishy is going on."

His right side begins to get a little tingly. He mentally braces himself for the painful pins and needles.

"York-y already got the symbol memorized, but I don't think we should risk staying here. Dad, what do you think?"

America doesn't respond.

'America?'

"Dad?"

Massachusetts walks closer and then lets out a sigh of relief.

"He's just sleeping."

"Now ain't that hard to believe," Dixie scoffs.

"What do you mean?"

"He's been having nightmares for the past week we've been here. First time he went to bed without my insistence."

'Week?! How long have I been out?'

"At least being with Russia seems to help," Dixie says with a laugh.

"Oh yeah. I don't know if we told you, but those two are practically f***ing," Massachusetts adds.

Dixie chokes on his breath, and Russia would've done the same. Embarrassment floods his mind.

'Massachusetts! Why did you have to say it like that?!'

"What?!" Dixie exclaims, his voice a few octaves higher than normal.

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure they would've if they were alone," Massachusetts adds flippantly.

"Okay. Please don't ever say something like that to me again," Dixie instructs.

"But it's true!"

"That don't mean I wanna hear about it," Dixie snaps.

"Well, anyway, I'm pretty sure those two are an item."

"Okay. Well, I really don't wanna talk about my brother's love life with his kid," Dixie says.

Massachusetts laughs.

"It's just kinda strange that Dad's channeling any magic at all, especially right now. I didn't think he had much, and he isn't even awake," Massachusetts comments.

"Could it be healing magic?"

"That's what most of it is, but he isn't using normally. Oh well, as long as he's okay."

Dixie chuckles.

"Last thing, Del and Netti are offering to take over watch if you want to take a break."

"Send 'em in here when you get the chance. I'll stick around in here, but a few extra sets of eyes never hurt anyone."

"Alright. Bye Dixie, bye Dad, bye soon to be dad-in-law."

Russia's mind freezes. The door slams shut.

'"soon to be dad-in-law"??'

He tries to straighten out his thoughts but finds it nearly impossible. Fragmented ideas and images shot through his mind.

'Is that what happened if America and I..?'

'50 kids?!'

'My father did want grandchildren.'

'I'm going to have kids?!'

He knows his face would've been a solid red color if he had regular blood flow. And it would've gotten even darker as he realizes that though the thoughts are jarring, he finds he wouldn't mind.

Chapter Text

By the next morning, Russia can actually feel with his right side. His left side still feels a little numb, but it was getting better. But for now, he decides that laying here with America tucked into his side was as good a place as any.

he slowly opens his eyes. The light in the room is blinding. He peaks around and sees a few states asleep around the room, and Dixie snoring away in one of the chairs.

The door begins to open, and Russia shuts his eye for a moment.

"Is anyone awake?" an unfamiliar voice asks.

Russia peeks and sees two people in nurses' outfits standing at the doorway.

"No. The heart monitors also say that our patients are too."

"Well, should we do it now?"

Russia tries to open his mouth, but his jaw is locked in place. He watches the two as they approach his bed and he begins to move his arm. It doesn't move much, but America begins to stir.

"Uh oh, one of them is waking up."

"Well, let's do this fast."

"But what if one of them shouts?"

"Oh please. The frozen one can barely move his fingers. And the other one just needs something a little extra to keep him under."

'Come on America. You need to wake up. Please!'

Russia begins shaking his hand as much as his wrist would allow. America groans. Russia sees them getting closer, syringes in hand.

"Should we take those states too?"

"The countries should be our first targets. We'll grab the other ones once we have the easier targets."

Russia's breathing speeds up and becomes shaking with fear. The nurses don't seem to notice. He lay helpless while these people were coming closer to do something he didn't want to know. His more thawed right side begins to shake with fear.

America begins to sit up.

"Russ, what's wrong?" he mutters.

'Look around! Please!'

America shifts.

"Who are you? What are you doing?" America asks the nurses, who were within arms reach.

The nurses visibly panic a little. Russia continues shaking.

'What are they going to do?'

America meets his eye. His face flashes with concern before he spins and gives the nurses a nasty glare.

"What. Are. You. Doing?"

"Following orders," one of the replies, grabbing America's arm.

"DIXIE! CANADA!" America shrieks.

Russia sees movement in his peripheral and he hears the door swing open with a 'bam'.

The nurse who grabbed America goes flying across the room, slamming into the wall. The syringe clatters to the ground. The other nurse panics and tries to inject Russia with something. America grabs it and tries to wrestle for the syringe.

Canada grabs the nurse's wrist from behind and yanks it away. The nurse begins thrashing and pulls away from Canada. The nurse manages to escape his grip but then shouts in pain before collapses.

"What did you do?" America asks.

Canada shrugs.

"I didn't do anything. Whatever was in that needle knocked them out," Canada says.

"DAD! Are you okay?!" Delaware shouts.

"Dad?" Connecticut asks, their hand running through their hair.

"Yeah. I'm fine. They weren't able to get me."

"I've got the other syringe," Dixie says from the corner of the room, holding a capped syringe gently between his fingers.

"I'm gonna give this to Georgia. Hopefully, she'll be able to figure out what it is," Dixie finishes.

"We need to get out of here," America says.

"America, there might be one problem," Delaware says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What do you mean?"

"The Big House was ransacked a few days after we left. It looks like someone was looking for us."

"S***! F***!"

Russia's shivering finally calms. He uses the dexterity he has to rub small circles on America's hand.

America's head jerks up and their eyes meet.

"You're really waking up," America mutters, a grin on his face and tears in his eyes.

Russia tries to smile back, but his face is too stiff.

"We need to leave though. It's getting too dangerous to stay here," Canada says. America nods.

"How should we do it?"

"Immediately. I think we can move some people around in the cars to make it work," Dixie says.

"How are we gonna move Russia?" America asks.

Dixie shrugs.

"We will probably just have people pick him up. But we have to leave now before the nurses wake up."

"I'll tell the others," Delaware announces before leaving the room, his sibling on his tail.

Dixie scoops America up off the bed.

"We might be able to push out the gurney and then pull him into the backseat of one of the cars," Canada suggests.

"Okay, that sounds good," America says, removing his IVs.

"Should we keep Russia's IV?" Canada asks.

"Nah. He'll wake up soon. 'sides, don't wanna risk infection him getting an infection. You agree?" America says, directing his question to Russia.

Russia tries to nod, and the twitch of his head is enough of an affirmation for America.

"Okay," Canada says.

The door opens, and Virginia pokes her head in.

"We moved around the luggage. We'll have enough space for everyone if a few of us double buckle."

"Do what you have to. We need to move," Dixie says.

Canada steps out of Russia's view, and he hears the wheels under him click.

Dixie moves the nurse out of the way, and Canada and Dixie run out to the Parking lot.

It's a bumpy ride, but they make it to the cars.

"Y'all are going in with Kansas and Arizona," Dixie says, dumping America into one of the corner seats in the back row.

"TEX! Some help over here!" Canada calls.

And with that, Russia is lifted into the backseat and laid across it. Then several blankets are tossed on top of him and America. America pulls his head and shoulders into his lap. Russia feels a little embarrassed, but it's warm, so he doesn't try to push away.

Dixie turns to Texas.

"Tex, go grab New Mexico. You two will be in here with Finland. Philippines and Canada will take Alaska and Hawaii's places in 'Hawaii's' car. Louisiana is going with Georgia, someone is gonna have to double buckle. Massachusetts will come with me and Quebec has to move to Penn's car. Got it?"

Texas nods, and runs off, announcing the instructions to the others.

The seats in front of Russia are clicked back in place the doors shut.

"Where are we going?" Kansas asks.

"Just out of here. Follow New York, okay?"

Kansas nods.

The doors open again and Finland gets in.

Russia watches out the window as Texas and New Mexico run around, trying to organize everyone. After a few more moments of yelling and coordination attempts, the pair hop into the car.

"What's with the scrambling?" Finland asks.

"Well, there's a lot of us. And us states have a buddy system. Right now, Dixie is tryin' to make sure that all the buddy pairs get back together," Texas says.

"Buddy system?"

"It's so we can keep an eye on each other in case something happens. It's hard to notice if one person of 50 disappears, but it's very obvious if your buddy is missing," New Mexico explains.

"Smart. Is this a new system?" Finland asks America.

"No. It's been around for a while. They know their buddies. There just isn't a lot of wiggle room, you know? Lots of people, and not a lot of seats. So we have to be careful. Besides, I trust Dixie. I'm good at keeping tabs on everyone, but he's good at organizing them all," America replies, running his fingers through Russia's hair.

Finland hums and doesn't ask any more questions. Arizona puts the heat on full blast as soon as the car starts. The car lurches forward, and he feels Kansas speed off after New York.

Russia has many questions, but he figures they can wait for now. He's wrapped up in blankets and comfortable. New Mexico makes small talk with Finland and the two talk about the temperature differences between their lands.

"It gets really hot where I am," New Mexico says, a grin audible in her voice.

"My heat is worse!" Arizona interjects.

"Shut up Ari! At least I can still get snow!"

"I have times of the year when in the northern part, the sun doesn't rise," Finland comments.

Arizona gasps. "Just like Alaska!" she squeals in excitement.

Finland chuckles.

The sounds of the car and talking helps Russia's mind relax, and with America there, he feels himself begin to drift off.

The motion of the car helps too. He forgot how relaxing riding in a train or car could be. He fights sleep, forcing his eyes back open.

"It's getting really warm in here," Finland comments.

"Oh, sorry Ma'am," Texas says, "it's just most of us are more used to the warmer weather."

"'Sides, Russia probably needs the extra heat. But if it bothers you too much, we could change it," Kansas offers.

"No, it's alright for now," Finland says, "I'll be fine."

"Alright. Well, just let us know if you want us to change it, okay?" Arizona says.

More chatter continues, and the radio plays softly under the talking.

"Russ," America mutters, stroking his hair, "you can sleep. I can tell you're tired. Don't worry, we'll figure this out. And once you and I are all healed up, we'll stop those b****rds from hurting anyone else. I promise."

America's smile sends Russia swimming in his feelings of affection and, dare he say, love.

His mouth twitches into a small smile, the most expression he can manage with his stiff cheeks. America beams back in response. America kisses his hand and places it on Russia's forehead.

"I can't wait until you can talk again, I miss your voice," America whispers.

Russia drifts to sleep, his mind holding thoughts of hope and love.

Chapter Text

In case my updating schedule takes longer than you would like, I have another book published that has more story parts and more in-depth explanations for how this world works. The book is titled "Puppets - Extras" under my profile.

You can find stories with different perspectives all in the same universe and extra tidbits of information and background connected to Puppets. I'll be putting this at the end of the book for those who don't know.

I will still be publishing more stuff soon. I just figure that y'all would want to know that I have posted some short stories revolving around what's happening to America and some about what's going on back at the house.

So, if you're interested, give it a try.

Thanks,

Skulking

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This book is complete, but don't lose hope!

I'll be writing a sequel. Unfortunately, it might take a while to plan out the storyline of it completely. But in order for it to be as good as this one, I need some time to brainstorm it for a while.

I hope y'all enjoyed the story, and thank you to anyone who left comments and likes along the way.

See you again soon!