MW: Hello everyone again and welcome to the sequel I always talked about. So yes, this is a sequel, but new readers take note: YOU DO NOT NEED TO READ THE ORIGINAL TO UNDERSTAND THIS FIC. IT IS, HOWEVER, RECOMMENDED, AS THERE ARE A FEW SPOILERS, BUT TFB IS AN STRONG, INDEPENDENT FANFICTION AND IT NEEDS NO PREQUEL.

BFTL: Yeah, you punks better read this! Larry's in it!

SEK: Okay, she is acting more dumb than usual. What is going on?

MW: Ever since I first talked about using Larry as the main character (which was all the way back in April), Blue had been obsessed with his character. I think that now it's happening, she's going to be stranger than usual. Should be kill her again?

SEK: Hush. Anyways, a little bit more information. I'm Sisko, the proofreader of this story and MidnasWolf is the actual author.

Like its predecessor, this is satire and everything has a meaning (Everything in "The Fanseries" has a meaning). The OCs are kind of cheesy on purpose. We're commenting on the Hetalia fandom.

Story Summary: My sister is the one who liked Hetalia- not me. So why was I stuck in a world where all these crazy sex-driven perverts claimed to be countries and act like pirates? Why is it that the one guy meant to help me on my stupid quest is an obnoxious idiot? Did I also forget to mention that I'm in a girl's body? WITH BOOBS? I hate my life. –Satire look on APH fandom-

Chapter Summary: In which Larry makes one of the dumbest decisions known to Hetalian kind.

Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual Themes. Homophobia, Violence, and Blood.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I do, however, own my OCs and that is enough for me.

~Chapter 1~

It's Called Karma, Larry Sue

"'You know Seychelles, with the strange things you've been doing lately... I sometimes think that it might be happening again.'"

-From "The Fangirl", American Fanfiction by BFTLandMWandSEK

Real World: Wednesday

When living in the beautiful west coast of the United States of America, one learned pretty quickly that Mother Nature was eternally going through menopause. Yesterday was the standard summer temperature of ninety-something degrees Fahrenheit- girls in short shorts and guys shedding their shirts -the very definitions of the perfect American summer. The only thing missing was the hot, one night stand sex. Today, however, the dream land was ruin. Today, it was in the low eighties with rain.

I hate this place sometimes.

"It sure is raining hard out there," my twin brother, Jerry, said as he measured off the top of his metal measuring cup.

I shrugged, barely paying him any heed. "Sure is, bro." I always found that writing during a summer storm was the greatest thing in the world. Outside the window was dark as the warm rain would gently trickle down the panes. I had taken my laptop and sat it at the kitchen counter just so that I could look out the windows of the French doors leading to the backyard.

In the Sue household, summer storms had a certain routine. Jerry would bake cookies, I would write by the window, and my older sister Sherry would draw in her room. This was the standard of Sue living; you were not a Sue unless you went through this routine. It was engraved into our beings, right down to the hair follicles on our faces . . . mostly.

Like all Sues, all three of us had fiery orange hair and light blue eyes. The similarities pretty much ended there. Both Jerry and I had rather straight hair, though it varied in length- his short, mine licking the back of my neck. Both of us wore glasses, but the ones on my nose were smart and rectangular whereas Jerry's had a thick wad of white tape holding his frame together. Jerry did tell me the story behind it—something about some jerks and a Miley Cyrus CD, but I didn't listen. Anyways, the two of us were tall, though I out grew my brother by a fair inch or so. Whether or not that would change, I had no idea. We were only fifteen and hormones could still play to my brother's favor.

Sherry was not blessed with the same dashing looks as us. She took more after our father- her hair resembled a rat's nest and she used to have the worse time with pimples. But that was back when she was a kid. Sherry was seventeen, soon to be eighteen and ready to go off to college. Or, at least she should be if she only had enough boxes.

My fingers pounded harder on my keyboard. She just had to take everything she owns, didn't she? I swear that most of that stuff was just the anime crap she hoards under her bed. Stupid waste of- I realized that I had accidentally misspelled "because". I groaned, quickly back spacing to fix it. I thought she got over that crap two years ago when she suddenly took all of the posters off her walls and became a 'new woman'.

"I guess not," I mentally grumbled, hunching over my work. I didn't like where my story was going. It was supposed to be a scene where my hero, Harrison, is relaxing, but I couldn't seem to get the mood right. It was supposed to be calm and inviting, but the words that flowed from my fingers were loud and crumbling. "I'm not thinking correctly," I decided, saving and closing my document. My Avatar: The Last Airbender wallpaper appeared: a fan drawing of Sokka fighting with his black sword. "I need to make myself calm-"

"Ha, so you do like Avatar!" I slammed my laptop shut and turned to see Sherry right behind me. Her triumphant smirk was enough to make me want to barf.

"I don't like any of your anime crap, Sherry," I snapped evenly, glaring at her determinedly.

The older girl simply rolled her eyes and strolled right passed. Rude. "Why kind of cookies are you making, Jer?" She asked excitedly, looming at his shoulder like a curious child to her parent. And now she's ignoring me. "Are they chocolate chip?" Yes people, she is supposed to be going to college soon.

Jerry forced an unsure grin and shook his head. "Sorry Sherry, but we didn't have any chocolate, so I'm just making sugar," he said meekly. I huffed, reminding him to stop sounding like a sorry sap. Jerry looked down with a flushed face, forcing himself to concentrate on his work.

Sherry, meanwhile glared at me as if I was the bad guy. "Well wasn't Mom supposed to go to the store and get you some?" she asked. Her tone reminded me of a stuck up gossip girl, the kind that wear Daisy Dukes.

Not that I want my sister to wear those or anything. I mean . . .um . . . she's not skinny enough to wear them, okay? I said it, happy?

"She was until you had to tragically run out of boxes," I said as I opened my laptop again. As I quickly typed in my password, I added, "With the weather the way it is, she probably wouldn't be home for an hour or so."

I smirked. There, that will get her to keep her yapper shut. Seriously, how could I work on anything when she was just shooting off her stupidity every stinking moment? Ignoring the inspiring air of Sokka (seriously, I love that guy); I clicked on a particular video and turned the volume on mute. I didn't need it- I just had to look at her.

Windows Media Player rolled my highschool's latest drama club production: Chicago. Playing one of the leads was her: my best friend Stella Hoshi. The Asian (Japanese specifically) was the stepsister of Sherry's best friend Bella. Unlike her stepsibling, Stella was quiet and stoic. Whenever we hanged out, her lips never left the tight line they seemed petrified in. Her voice was always a strict monotone, showing the least amount of emotions possible. The only time she ever seemed to show any kind of feeling was when she was on stage.

I propped my elbow on the white counter and leaned in. The black video box showed her with a face that was filled with joy as she belted out the high note. I smiled softly. If only she could show more emotion like that every day. Yeah, she was supposed to be a gothic Asian girl with the black eyeliner and everything, but a small smile every now and then couldn't-

"Watching your girlfriend again?" I groaned and paused the movie. Instead of going back to her room like she should have, Sherry was seemingly helping Jerry with his cooking. As he measured and sifted the dry ingredients, Sherry separated the egg yolks from the egg whites. Poor chickens, dying because some teenagers wanted cookies.

Not that I anything against meat or anything. Are you kidding? I love meat. If I could, I would eat nothing but baby back ribs smothered in sweet honey barbeque sauce all day.

I shook my head, forcing the thoughts of meat out of my head. Later, when I have a steak house menu in my hands. Right now, there were more important things. Like why was she helping Jer? This was strictly against the Sue routine. It was as if she was trying to make the universe crumble into tiny little pieces. This was worse than dividing by zero. Simmering with annoyed heat, I growled, "She's not my girlfriend."

She winked. "Right . . ."

I pushed my glasses further up my nose as I turned back towards her. "You know, I highly regret ever letting you watch Fairy Odd Parents," I remarked. "That show practically teaches kids sarcasm."

"Sarcasm is a valuable gift to humans everywhere."

Again, I rolled my eyes. "Says who?"

"Says God."

"Would you two please stop it?" Jerry asked, holding his knife up in the air.

Everything stopped.

True, it was the butter knife he always used to make sure that his measurements were perfectly accurate, but it's still a freaking knife! Just the sight of it made my blood run cold with fear. Already, I could feel the tingling of the blade against my weak skin. Instinctively, I pushed myself away from the counter; away from it. That, in turn, made my butt fall out of the stool and onto the hardwood floors.

The sound that left my mouth did not sound human.

The girl laughed. "Are you still afraid of knives?" she asked- taunted as she walked around to help me. "I thought that you grew out of that years ago." The laughter didn't leave her voice, even as she bent down and extended a hand towards me.

A mockful hand.

Growling, I slapped it away and picked myself off the floor. "Shut up! You would be the same way if your twin nearly cut your thumb off!"

Jerry squeaked. "I'm still sorry for that, Larry! I really hope that you-"

Sherry's first stuck themselves to her hips as she rolled her eyes again. With the amount she was doing that, I really hoped that they got stuck in an endless cycle of circles. Then she'll look even dumber than usual. "That gives you no right to scream like a pussy at a simple butter knife," she said haughtily, widening her stance.

When I thought about it, she really shouldn't be doing that. She was dressed in a jean skirt and an anime teen shirt (this one read "Hetalia: Axis Powers" with three blond guys on her breasts); she should not be spreading her legs like that. It made her look like a slut.

Trying to ignore both the dull ache of my bruised tailbone and my brotherly calling, I curled my upper lip, sneering, "Yeah, well at least I don't scream every time I go to bed."

Sherry's face fell and the kitchen settled into a tense silence. Even Jerry was giving me a surprised look, reminding me that the subject was forbidden.

About two years ago- after the day Sherry miraculously removed all of her Hetalia posters- she started getting very violent nightmares. For nights at a time, we would all wake up to the sound of her screaming in her sleep as she tossed and turned dangerously in her bed. It grew so bad that some nights, she didn't even bother going to sleep. I would go to bed with the light still on in her room and never see it turn off. Mom tried to get her to talk about it, but Sherry always told her not to worry over it.

Over time, they grew less frequent and I thought that they were gone for good. But last night, I woke to the sound of her screaming and Mom rushing into her room to wake her. "I'm such a terrible person," Sherry had sobbed, loud enough for me to hear from my room down the hall. "Please tell me that he wouldn't get me."

A part of me believed that she was raped or something, but Sherry complains about everything. If there was something remotely unfair or irritating, she would rant about it for hours. If some guy touched her the wrong way, she would have had the Swat team on his tail in an instant. Then again, by the haunted look in her eyes, I would say that whatever was causing the nightmares was pretty serious.

Sherry, Jerry, and I stood awkwardly, waiting for the other to react. Jerry was waiting to see if I would apologize, Sherry seemed a little out of it- as if experiencing a memory on repeat -and I was waiting to see if she would finally snap completely. I didn't feel any remorse for what I said; the girl deserved it. Besides, I was tired of her acting out a tragedy but never actually telling it to anyone.

At last, my sister released a long, tense sigh. Her eyes closed, as she said under her breath, "I know I promised you, Sadiq, but-" Eyes snapped open into a hard glare. "Larry, you are an ass." Without another word, Sherry turned on her heels and stormed back up the stairs to her room.

"Tell me something I don't know," I called back, climbing back onto my stool.

I watched as Jerry pressed his lips and did his best to intimidate me with his anger. For him, that was close to impossible. His face always turned into a bright pink shade and his lips always made an adorable pout. He looked more like a little girl than anything. "Why did you do that, Larry?" he demanded. "You don't know what it's like for her."

"Neither do you," I replied evenly, returning back to my computer. At this point, watching Stella was not going to help me. I wanted to groan. Looks as though the only way to get rid of my annoyance-turned-anger was to vent it. "She hasn't told anyone," I said, "Or have you forgotten?"

Jerry groaned, but it sounded weak. "If she's screaming, then it has to be serious." He suddenly noticed that I was barely paying him any heed. "Lar, what are you doing?"

Not even bothering to rip my eyes away, I replied, "Updating my hate blog."

"Your what?"

I mindlessly beckoned for him to join me at my side. He hesitated for a moment, but he eventually did with a flushed face and downcast eyes. Sounding very much like an informative businessman, I explained, "See here Jerry, on tumblr there are a variety of blogs that specialize in certain aspects of a fandom. Mine here, properly entitled 'Glory Fuck No Hetalia Dumb Shits', specializes in how stupid Hetalia fans are."

Jerry frowned. "You do realize that Sherry is still a fan of that."

I nodded. "Yes, I do, but she has nothing to do with this. Hetalia is insulting. What kind of person would want to watch a bunch of gay men who portray the countries in a completely insulting manner while having sex with each other?"

He took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. He asked, "You do realize that that's not what it's about."

Was there a challenging tone in his voice? I raised a humored eyebrow. How very interesting. "And you would know this how?"

The twin suddenly realized his tone and looked down with embarrassment. He muttered a soft apology before saying in an equally low manner, "Well, I may have watched a few episodes."

I rolled my eyes. "That's not surprising. How many?"

"One or two seasons. It's not actually half bad."

The house phone started ringing, the shrill noise blending nicely with the soft pattering of the rain. Neither one of us made a move to answer it. "So you're telling me that you actually like watching gay porn?" I asked.

"It's not gay porn!" He snapped, or at least his weak version of one. "It's actually really funny and most of the characters are straight-"

"Most?" I rose from my seat and got right into his face. Our noses were touching, somehow causing his face to grow even redder. Seriously, this kid needs to get a backbone or get his blushing problem checked out. No one can blush so much and not have something wrong with their face.

Jerry twiddled his thumbs and he refused to make eye contact. "W-well Holy Rome loved Italy, but he thought he was a girl," he stuttered. "And Sweden is only gay for Finland-"

I grimaced. In a mocking manner, I tapped the tip of his nose, an action that sent the boy backing into the kitchen counter. "I find that very insulting for the Swedish," I said, barely noticing that the phone had stopped ringing. "Who would want to have their country be gay?"

"What's wrong with being gay?" Jerry snapped. I backed away, giving him enough space to escape. That wasn't his soft snap, that was a real I-am-just-about-ready-to-commit-first-degree-homicide snap. Whatever I said obviously hit a weak spot.

I opened my mouth, ready to demand what his problem was when-

"Shit! Larry! Jerry!" We both jumped and looked towards the stairs as Sherry came running back down. Her face was a pallid white, the kind people only get when they are terrified. In her clammy hands was the house phone. She was barely able to get her feet to stop by the counter. "When is Mom coming back?" she demanded, panicky.

I knitted my brows. "Sherry, what is-"

"Not for a while," Jerry dutifully reported. I frowned. Even he wasn't paying me any heed.

Sherry swore before panting, "Can you call-"

He shook his head. "She left her phone on her dresser," he said. "I found that out an hour ago."

I shook my head and took a step between them. "Sherry, what the heck is going on?" I demanded. "Did something happen to Dad?"

She hastily shook her head. Our dad, Gary Sue, was a traveling reporter. Last time we heard of him was a few weeks ago and he was in South Africa. Where he was now, not even Mom knew.

Sherry ran her hands over her face, taking a deep breath. "You know how we're supposed to watch Bella and Stella this week?" she asked. I nodded. Stella's mom and step, much to my disappointment, were lesbians. Ella (Bella's mom) and Nutella (Stella's mom. She was actually born in Japan and we can never pronounce her name, so we just call her that) were spending a romantic vacation in Hawaii and asked our mom, Mary Sue, to check in on them frequently, just in case Bella decided to throw a party or Stella ran off and joined a groupie of traveling thespians. "Well, Bel was driving Stella back from a rehearsal and their brakes gave out."

My mouth dropped as my blood ran cold. My muscles turned to stone and I had to lean into the cold counter for support. My brain was on haywire. How bad was it? Is Stella safe? Did anyone die? Did she die? But my mouth didn't want to work. The only thing I could do was sweat and pray that twin telepathy allowed Jerry to ask my questions for me.

Luckily, it did. "Oh my God," he breathed, holding his hands over his mouth. "Are they okay?"

Then, to my horror, Sherry shook her head. "They're both in the hospital now. We were listed on Bel's phone as an emergency contact, so the hospital staff called us."

My brain started working again. "We have to go now," I yelled, already making my way to the front door. Before I had even walked a few steps, Sherry grabbed my shoulder.

"No, you stay here," she ordered, sounding completely serious. Serious and calm. I blinked. How odd- I always figured that if she was caught in a situation like this, she would be the one freaking out. She was handling this better than I was. Why?

I frowned. "Why not?"

"Mom is the only legal adult around," she explained crossly. "And she has to know about this. If none of us are home, then she wouldn't ever."

Jerry took a step forward, raising his skinny arm into the air. "Actually, I volunteer to stay behind," he said, still looking flustered and anxious. "You and Lar can go-"

"Alright then!" I clapped my hands together and ran to the coat closet. "Let's get going Sher!" The elder girl stared at me, sighed, and followed suit. The kitchen morphed into the living room, which then turned into the foyer. I used to, and still always, think that the developers were just lazy and didn't want to separate the rooms with walls. Nope, one big floor plan would be just fine.

I pulled out my black rain coat and pulled it over my brown tee and plaid shorts. By the time Sherry had a jean jacket on; I had a pair of sneakers on my feet and yanked the front door open. Without another word- not so much as a simple goodbye- I took the car keys out of the bowl and ran to Sherry's car.

She was one of those people who drove an obnoxiously small, bright red buggie. To her redemption, she didn't have spots on it to make it look like a ladybug. No, she put a giant mustache sticker on the hood.

The warm rain had me drenched in seconds. I cursed and fiddled with the keys. I wanted to go back inside and grab an umbrella, but Stella needed me and I had to be there for her. By the time I was sitting shotgun, Sherry was running outside with the rain protection device I had forgotten. "Calm down, Larry," she ordered sternly, folding it shut. In a single moment, she slid into the car seat and slammed her door shut. "We'll get there soon."

"What if something happens and they need a blood transfusion?" I demanded, anxiously watching her stick her key into the ignition slowly. A little bit too slow for my taste. "We have to-"

"They'll be fine." At last, she put the car into gear and pulled out from the driveway. "They have to be." I looked at her, seeing the haunted look our talk about her screaming brought on earlier. Her hands- I noticed- gripped the steering wheel tighter. "He wouldn't be going after them."

Great, now she was speaking gibberish again. I asked, "Who's he?"

Sherry pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Nevermind."

In the end, the drive to the hospital took us longer than I would have wanted. The people of the West Coast were not good rain drivers, so call vehicles inched at a two miles per an hour pace. When we arrived, Sherry refused to drop me off at the front and even locked the doors so that I couldn't jump out. I had to wait for her to civilly park the car in the parking structure, take the elevator back to ground floor, then hide under her umbrella until we reached the emergency room.

I never liked hospitals. The one in my town had strictly white walls and slick marble floors. The air smelled pungently of cleaner and the morbid air made it hard to breathe. Just stepping inside made the hairs on my arms prick. Sherry held my hand and pretended that hers weren't shaking. She strongly led me past a waiting room filled with either crying or hollowed eyed people and to the receptionist like a little boy with his mother. "Is there a Bella Moon and a Stella Hoshi here?" she asked, holding her head like an adult.

The receptionist was a man, a rather young one with square glasses like mine, and dark hair. He looked like a total stuck up- fitting considering that his name tag read 'Erwin'. Sighing heavily, he started typing something into his large, white office computer. "Information like that is restricted to family members only," he practically huffed.

I felt the anger boil to my face. Who was he to say that I couldn't see Stella? I opened my mouth, prepared to spill a lie about being cousins when Sherry painfully elbowed me. I slammed a hand over my mouth and pounded a fist onto the plastic counter. Crap, for someone so curvy, she sure did have a pointy arm.

"We were contacted by the hospital staff since we were listed as emergency contacts," Sherry said, smiling. I stared at the visage. She was good at pretending that the passing doctors, pedestrians, and waiting room dwellers weren't giving us odd looks. I already could feel them tickling my back, making me conscious of everything. Even the wailing wife with bleeding mascara was staring at us. Great.

Erwin shook his head. "I apologize, but I cannot legally let you see them-"

"Sherry?" Standing a few feet away was Bella. For a second, I felt hope that things wouldn't be as bad as I feared. But then I realized that she was not the girl that I knew. The Bella I knew had neat blond hair, rosy cheeks, and a happy demeanor. This girl was a mess: her hair was sticking out at every odd and end, her whole face was pale, and her eyes read of horror. My eyes traveled up her figure, drinking every detail. She didn't look too bad, save for the white bandage on her forehead. Maybe Stella also walked away with so little.

"Oh my God, Bella." Sherry immediately forgot all about me and Erwin and ran to hug her. She embraced her quickly like she was checking to see if this was real. "What happened?" she frantically asked. The ginger pulled away and felt her cheeks. "Are you alright?"

Bella stared. I held my breath. Slowly, she shook her head. "The car just lost control," she whispered as she resisted a sob. "I couldn't stop the car and-"

"Where's Stella?" I demanded. My sister gave me a harsh look, but I did not care. Bella was released with only a few stitches so her sister has to be close by. Taking a step forward, I asked, "Is she alright?"

Slowly, she shook her head. "She's in surgery," she told me, voice barely rising over the sound of the rest of the hospital. I felt my white hope shatter, leaving me in a world of sheer black. "Something is hurt that shouldn't be. Sherry, I-"

Sherry turned her friend's focus back on her, giving her a firm look. "Bel, listen to me. This is not your fault." For a moment, I was able to concentrate on something other than Stella. For just a single moment, I realized how mature Sherry was acting. This was not the girl who mocked me in the kitchen; this was a girl who knew the situation and knew how to deal with it.

My mind, however, flipped back to Stella. She was in surgery, so it has to be severe. What if her heart gives out and she dies? When was the last time we hung out? What if the only way I'll ever be able to hear her voice again is through my videos of her productions? I leaned into the counter, feeling as though I couldn't breathe. This couldn't be the end, this couldn't be.

I didn't even get to say goodbye.

"You know, the doctor said that her chance for survival is slim." I jumped, completely forgetting that Erwin was still here. He was absently scribbling in a medical file, pretending to not know the weight of his words. "It's a shame. Were you two boyfriend-girlfriend or something?"

My throat felt tight and I did not want to speak. But there was something off, something different about this guy. Something really creepy and sadistic. Still, I somehow found the means to swallow and say, "No. We're just friends."

He shrugged. "But you still care for her?"

"More than anything in the world."

He raised an eyebrow, surprised at how quickly I replied. Even I thought that it was a little sudden, but when it came to Stella, the answers were always easy. Erwin took a deep breath and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "What if I told you that I could save her?"

"I would remind you that you are not a doctor."

The man chuckled. "That is true, but I am offering to help you in a different way. Tell me Mr. Sue, to what lengths will you go to save her?"

I glanced back at Sherry. She had Bella sitting in an empty chair next to a crying lady. Somehow, she found the patience to kneel at her friend's feet and quietly calm her. I felt my heart ache worsen. I leaned in closer to Erwin's desk, saying, "I would do anything in the world. What do you suggest?"

He smirked. "I'll do you a favor if you do me one." He took a small glass vial filled with black liquid from the corner of his desk and held it up to me. The dull fluorescent lighting made rainbows appear in the crystal design. "I know this guy. His name is Gilbert. I would like you to make Gilbert willingly drink this vile. In exchange, I will save Stella."

"That's impossible," I told him, rolling my eyes. "How the crap would you be able to save a girl at random? Plus, that thing is probably poison and I don't kill."

"Mr. Sue, there are some things in life that seem like mere works of mere fiction, but I am here to tell you that there are some truth to them." I felt my will weaken. A part of me that wrote fantasy stories agreed with him. Erwin continued, "I can save your love, but you have to allow me to. And to do that, you have to get Gilbert to drink this vial." The dark haired man handed me the container. I scowled, but didn't let go. "Stella's precious life is on the line and you are the only one who can save her." Closing my eyes, I squeezed it and held it to my chest. "So what will it be: her life or your stubbornness?"

There should have been a million of things going through my head at that moment. I should have had a million questions, but I instead only had one: "Is this a poison? Will it kill this 'Gilbert' guy?"

I felt Erwin give a triumphant smirk. "Not at all." I slowly opened my eyes to see him handing me a clipboard. "Just sign here and our deal will be sealed," he said, not bothering to hiding the victory in his voice. For one last time, I turned back to my sister. Maybe I should ask her about this- "It's now or never, Larry."

That was it.

Without thinking, I took the board from him and scribbled my name on the black line. I had an instant to realize what I just did before my head grew light and fuzzy. Gripping the vial tighter, I leaned into the counter for support. "W-what d-did . . . you-"

Erwin smiled and rose from his spot. "Sweet dreams, Larry. I'm sure we'll meet again." He was gone- walked away -before I could stop him.

I groaned. It felt as though there was something squeezing the sides of my head together. The corners of my eyes started to blur and my body yearned to go to sleep. I gripped the counter tighter. But if I were to faint here, I would just be causing more trouble. I gritted my teeth and forced my legs to move. Slowly, I dragged my feet over to an empty chair by Bella. I practically dropped into place, groaning again.

I barely noticed Sherry until she asked, "Is something wrong, Lar?"

"Just let me sleep," I slurred, closing my eyes.

And with that, I was out cold.

THE WAR: Day 1

When I opened my eyes, I thought nothing of the blue sky above me nor the cobblestone path below me. I didn't think about the sun beaming down on my face nor the vial still clutched in my hand. What I did think about was the new weight on my chest. I groaned, rubbing my forehead. Why did my chest hurt so much? What did Erwin do?

Stella . . .

My body snapped up like a triggered mousetrap. All around me were rows of slender brown buildings, crowded together along the narrow, winding streets. My heart raced. This wasn't the hospital! This looked like a deserted, sunny vacation place in Europe. How the hell did I get here? "You need to calm down, Larry," I ordered, wringing my soft hands together. "If you- wait. Why are my hands soft?"

I looked down at them, but only discovered a more distressing matter. "Why the hell am I wearing a dress?" I yelled in my thoughts, gaping at my pink skirt. My only response was the distant sound of gunfire. I frightfully jumped to my feet. Was that really a gun? No, people just don't walk around firing guns—unless you lived in South L.A. It must have been a car crash or something. I felt myself calm. See, if rational thinking is applied, then-

From one of the buildings ahead of me, two people jumped from the windows. One was a man, clad in a long brown coat. A pale pink scarf whipped around his large body as he swung a pipe to and fro. His opponent was a man with sandy blonde hair in a red coat. From the distance, he looked to also be wearing an eye patch, though it did nothing to hinder his ability with an old fashion gun.

I watched in amazement as they moved with fluid motions, trying to strike each other. I couldn't move. Why were they fighting? Were they the ones to fire the gun shot? Wait, no. Didn't I already decide that it was not a gun?

I jumped as more were fired off in the distance.

Okay, maybe it was.

A loud grunt sounded as the man in the red coat finally gained the upper hand and knocked his opponent to the ground. Not a second later, he had his pistol pressed to his forehead. Oh shit, he was going to kill him. I didn't even think; I turned around and ran for it. I barely made it a foot before my dress caused me to trip and fall. My thud echoed loudly around the mostly empty streets.

Moaning, I slowly peeled my face away. There were a few pebbles stuck to my cheeks, but I had little time to worry about it. "What are you doing here, lass?" A British voice demanded. I turned and saw Red Coat looking straight at me. I stared back at him. I didn't know him, but he didn't seem ready to shoot me. In fact, he seemed ready to abandon his spot and help me to my feet.

His captive, Brown Coat, had other plans. "Quick, comrades! She's right there!" He called out in a thick accent. "Get-" He was promptly kicked in the face, but it was enough. Already, I could hear the chorus of footsteps and shouts drawing closer to me.

The one in red curse. "They're coming," he said, checking the ammo of his gun. "Lass, do me a favor and run for it. Do your best not to let them capture you."

"But don't worry, they will," the other piped up. His creepy smile did not fade even when the man shot him in the leg. I gasped, placing a hand over my mouth. Even from my distance, I could see the crimson blood staining his pants leg. "I have the best on my team."

But I still didn't move. All I did was stare at the growing red spot. Oh my God, he was shot. He was freaking shot in the freaking leg and he wasn't even freaking crying. How can one freaking small wound cause so much freaking blood? Oh my-

"There you are!" I snapped back into attention and saw that two men- Brown Coat's comrades -had joined them. Both of them were tall, but one was white while the other was tan. They sported common clothes, though the Limeyboy had a scarf around his neck where as Mr. Tan wore a turban on his head. I did note, however, that Mr. Tan did have a sword.

My body went cold. Swords were just really big knives. Big, sharp, dangerous knives.

"Get the girl," I heard Brown Coat harshly demand over the sound of Red Coat slowly backing away. He was outnumbered and the only reason why they hadn't captured him already was his firearm. Through my fear, I realized that since I had no weapon, there was no reason for them not to take me.

I found it best to suck in my pride and run for it.

Lifting my skirts, I moved my legs as quickly as I could down the streets. The other men were close to chase after me, but I didn't dare to stop and check. The pain in my chest increased, but I ignored it and pushed on. Ignoring it could mean my life. But I couldn't run forever, I knew that. These narrow streets would eventually lead to a dead end or I would pass out from exhaustion. That only left one option: outsmart them.

The three of us were the only people around. In this strange place, it was as if we were the only human beings alive. I wanted to curse. Okay, so blending into a crowd wouldn't work. Huffing and puffing, I turned my eyes traveled to the alleys between the buildings. Heroes in books would often run into those and gain an upper hand. Actually, I think I made Harrison do that in the fifth chapter.

Taking a risk, I turned sharply into a small alley. It was barely big enough for me to walk in normally. My two persuaders ran past me before cursing and turning on their heels. I tried to ignore their incoming presence and ran further inside. There was my exit: a window. Doing a double check on them, I saw that both of their shoulders were too wide to squeeze through. Their solution was to walk sideways- slower, but effective. As Limeyboy and Mr. Tan grew closer, I opened the window and used the wall behind me to shimmy up and slide inside.

I landed on my hands, yelping at the curt pain. "Quick, we got to catch her," a man's voice exclaimed. I grinded my teeth together, quickly stood, and slammed the window shut. Thank goodness I did it then too because the speaker- Limeyboy -was about to start climbing in.

He swore and tried to lift it up from his side position, but I bore all my weight into it. The window would never budge. At last, he stopped and looked me straight in the eye. His were green, vivid with unspoken frustration. Closer, I could see his brown hair flicked upwards like a football jock with too much hair gel. His tight frown supported an unlit pipe. "Let us in, little girl," he demanded, also having a foreign accent. What was up with all these men and not being American? "We're going to catch you sooner or later."

I crinkled my nose. I was not a little girl! Was it the dress that was making this guy so stupid? "You are an idiot," I growled softly, so consumed with anger that I couldn't even think straight. If I had a clear head, maybe I would have realized the differences sooner. "What makes you think that I would be stupid enough to do that?"

He responded by punching his hand through the glass, showering me with glass.

I gave a shrill cry of surprise and immediately ran further inside the building. Actually, it was more like an abandoned house. I passed through a living room, a kitchen, and a few open bedrooms. The occasional family picture was hung on the wall, the men and woman formed by pastel. It looked so old that I expected there to be dust. But everything was in spiffy-spat shape and not a single speck of dust was to be seen. "What was going on here?" I wondered.

As I ran, I brushed away the shards of glass that sprinkled my skinny arms. That was weird, I'm rather muscular. Why was I so thin? I shook my head. "No time for that, Larry," I thought, hearing the men's shoes crush the broken glass. At the end of the dark hallway I ran through, there was a staircase. I sped up towards it. "Your life's on the line right now."

The stairs, instead of leading to a room, were topped by a trap door: An escape.

Wasting no time, I pushed it open. The deep blue sky and warm sun happily greeted me. Taking a relieved breath, I climbed out and slammed the door shut. I was on the roof, which seemed to be the storage place of whoever once lived here. There were numerous materials like wood and stones. Spying a wood pole, I grabbed it and slid it through the handles of the door. Then I piled a few stones on top for extra measure.

At last, I let myself catch some much needed rest. "The people here are crazy," I decided, lowering myself onto a ground. "Why would they . . ." That was when I saw them. In the distance, down south, there was the ocean. In the sunlight, it was a deep, pure blue, but it was disturbed by two large ships. I gulped.

Pirate ships.

"I'm not an expert in sailing," I reminded myself, feeling my chest act up again. "For all I know, those are just some recreation ships for tourists." The only problem with my logic was that the only 'tourist' nearby were small figures scattered on the empty streets. For the most part, they were fighting each other.

Flashes of Red and Brown Coat appeared in my head. "This is a war," I realized, feeling the weight on my shoulders. In wars, people die- I knew that. My dad sure did enough reporting on it for it to be engraved into my brain. I hugged my shoulders. Dad was always away in some foreign country writing about the latest disaster. He could stand it.

So can I.

I willed myself to stand and ignore the possible bloodshed. Alright, not I had to-

Mr. Tan and Limeyboy finally found the trapdoor. I could hear them yelling from below as they pounded their fist on the door. By the looks of it, it wasn't going to hold for much longer. Before I could lose myself to panic, I forcefully closed my eyes and thought of a solution. The quickest would be to get off this roof before they could break free.

This was where the narrow alleys once again served me. The next building over was close enough for me to jump to. I looked at him, feeling my heart race. Yeah, it was close enough, but I was still going to be jumping from a building. That in itself was enough to give me suicidal thoughts. But the pole finally snapped and the stones would give away at the next kick.

Pulling my skirt up (revealing the embarrassing fact that I was wearing white bloomers), I took a deep breath and ran for it. Over the edge I leaped, stretching my legs as far as I could. My feet landed with a shock, causing me to stumble a few feet. Somehow, I regained my balance and ran for the next trap door. I easily yanked it open and ran down the stairs.

Like the last one, this house was also dark and spotless. At first, I thought about finding the door and running back into the streets, but the gruesome images of dead World War II soldiers drifted into my head. Yeah . . . it would probably be best to stay inside.

I found a bedroom. It was lightly furnished with a bed, dresser, and a surprisingly clean mirror. This would do. I firmly closed the shut. I tried to be quiet about it, just in case my persuaders were nearby. Exhaling, I lowered myself onto the stripped homemade mattress. Where was I? This definitely wasn't America. I lowered my face into my hands. How the hell did I even get here? I fell asleep at the hospital, not a random war zone! I shifted in my spot, feeling something in my pocket.

Sighing, I reached into it and pulled out the vial Erwin gave me. I turned it in my hands, feeling the crystal design on my skin. His words rang clear in my head. "Mr. Sue, there are some things in life that seem like mere works of fiction, but I am here to tell you that there are some truth to them."

"Impossible," I muttered, slipping it back into my pocket. Then it occurred to me. My voice was really high, almost like a . . .

My heart jumped. Didn't Red Coat call me a "lass"? And Limeyboy a "little girl?" Oh no.

Trembling, I slowly brought my face up and looked into the mirror.

Staring back at me was not me.

I was a young girl- probably fourteen-ish -with short, blonde hair. It was decorated with a dark blue ribbon, as if to notify others that she was, in fact, female. I couldn't blame her, after all, I wouldn't have been able to tell that she had boobs if I didn't look down my- her -dress collar, but sure enough, those swells of skin were there, held in place by breast band. At least it wasn't a corset or else I—she –wouldn't be able to breathe.

Slowly, I brought my hand to my face and she did the same. Her wide green eyes stared back at me as she ran her hand over her cute nose and soft cheeks. Then she looked at her legs, covered with white tights, and little black shoes. Tied to her arm was a bright red piece of cloth. At last, it started clicking in my head that those articles of clothing, along with her pink dress, were exactly what I was wearing.

I screamed a girly scream.

"She's in here!" I looked towards the door and mentally scolded myself. Great, now they were coming for her, me, us. I dove under the bed, and prayed that they didn't come in here. But life was a jerk and they did. Heavy boots pounded on the floor as the two men looked around the room.

"Are you sure it's this one?" Mr. Tan asked, speaking with a rather quaint little accent. From under the bed, I could get a better image of him. He was taller than I originally thought and probably would have a handsome face if it wasn't covered by a bright white mask; Though I had to give him points for making his red turban match the fall colors of his brown slacks and red shirt.

"'Fall colors?'" I questioned, furrowing my eyebrows. "Great, it hasn't even been twenty-four hours, yet I'm already starting to sound like a girl."

Limeyboy nodded, checking the side of the bed. "I'm sure of it," he said, sounding both irritated and bored at the same time. I pulled my legs and arms closer to my sides. I wondered how he could do that.

Suddenly, something grabbed my foot and roughly pulled me out. I screamed and clawed at the floor like a cat, but it was no use. Within in seconds, I was completely out in the open, vulnerable to the two men above me. "Got ya!" Mr. Tan yelled, smiling cockily. Growling, I kicked his hand off of my foot, just to have his partner grab my shoulders and force me to my feet. "I have to say, Liechtenstein, you were harder to catch than I originally suspected."

Like a fish, I opened and closed my mouth dumbly. Liechtenstein: that was this girl's name. I felt as though I had heard it somewhere before, but my brain was crying and I had no idea what the heck I was supposed to do. My natural instincts did call for me to crawl into a corner and cry but where would that get me?

"It wouldn't have been so hard if you had just listened to me sooner," Limeboy snapped, pipe bouncing in his mouth. How does he keep it balanced there while he talked? Scratch that- how does he keep his hair like that? His front bangs were somehow styled so that they were pointing upwards. That had to defy a few laws of gravity.

Mr. Tan shrugged. "Yeah, well I figured that the bigger the chase, the more fun it would be," he replied, still grinning.

He hotly huffed, "That was not fun."

"Yes it was, jackass." Mr. Tan looked down at me with his amber eyes. I cringed, trying to make myself smaller. There was a hunter's glint in his eye. He was a bloodhound and I was the defenseless doe. "Tell me, Liechtenstein, was this fun?" He asked. For a moment, all I could do was stare. These men were taking this a little too lightly. "Well?"

Limeyboy nudged me. "Y-yes," I stuttered out. "This was very fun."

He chuckled. "See, Netherlands. She agrees." Wait, why was he calling him 'Netherlands'? My mind flashed to my sister's stupid anime show. Oh no, I was not in Hetalia. I bet it's just like a nickname or something.

Limeyboy- Netherlands -scowled. "For the last time Turkey. It's the Netherlands." Turkey? Once again I shook the thought from my head. Nope, still a joke.

Turkey mimicked his visage. "Well I will start calling you the Netherlands if you will start calling me The Ottoman Empire." Only a completely overdone nickname.

"I will once you lose the ego."

Turkey sucked in a huge breath of air, as if to yell at him. I bit my lip in preparation, but it never came. Instead, he forced it down with a sigh. "I hate you," he growled, reaching behind his back. "Come on-" He suddenly pulled out two curved swords. "Let's get her back to the ship."

My universe suddenly only consisted of me and those weapons. Swords were just knives that took a crap amount of steroids. They were fucking huge knives.

The Netherlands nudged me. "Hey, girl. Are you alright?"

I shook my head. In a small voice, I whispered, "No."

Then I fainted.

THE WAR: Unknown Day

When I came to, I found myself lying on damp wood. The pungent smell of old salt water made me crinkle my nose. "Where am I?" I wondered, slowly sitting up. Was it just me, or was the whole room rocking back and forth in a soothing rhythm? Almost like . . .

"I'm on a boat!" I exclaimed, scrambling to my feet. I was going to run to a nearby window or onto deck, but then an iron fence appeared right in front of me. An iron fence that formed rows of cells much like mine. Crap, I was in a prison cell. A deep, dark, musty old prsion. I couldn't even begin to describe how bad it smelled in there.

"Really?" I yelled, shaking the bars in frustration. "Is this really necessa-"

"Hell yeah!" I trailed off, the obnoxious voice overcoming my own. The loud thuds of pounding feet drifted to my ear and grew louder with each step. My stomach dropped. I carefully stepped back from the bars and pushed myself against the wall. I didn't like the sound of whoever's coming. Two seconds took their sweet two years to pass before the man entered the room.

He was practically an adult- tall, slender, and muscular. A pair of glasses sat on his nose, framing two sky blue eyes. His hair was a light gold, wild and topped by a cowlick. A large smile stretched across his face as he sprinted right up to my bars with a bang. I jumped and pushed myself further away. There was something off about his goofy and excited smile.

"I can't believe you finally woke up!" He gushed, rocking on his bare heels. "I've been waiting for hours and do you know how freaking bored I was?" Like a puppy dog to his master, he gave me a hopeful look. He obviously wanted me to answer.

Gulping, I took one last look at him. His bare feet were mostly covered by a pair of long, brown slacks that have seen better days. They were obviously too big for him, but he used a red, white, and blue scarf as a belt. The freak wore no shirt, only a brown vest that showed a chest worthy of a high school athlete.

I noted a white piece of cloth tied around his bare arm.

I cleared my throat. "Ye-"

He immediately started talking again. "I wanted to throw a bucket of water on you, but Captain Russia said that I couldn't."

I coughed. "Okay, but-"

"Apparently, that's cruel and unusual," he ranted on. I scowled. Wow, he was probably the rudest person I'd ever met. Even Sherry wasn't this bad. "But it's way more cruel just to leave you alone here. There's probably spiders and shit. Hey, do you like spiders and stuff?" At that point, I just started tuning him out. "I think that it would be very sweet to be, like, part human, part spider but England always tells me that that's stupid. Well, you know, he's stupid. The stupid guy gets a king who actually gives religious freedom and he kicks him off the throne. I mean, come on! How stupid do you have to be to do that? But anyways, Erwin sent you, right?"

It was as if someone just tazed me. My limbs spazzed out as I jumped a mile. "You know Erwin?" I shrieked, sounding like the girl I was. I wasn't sure whether or not I should feel happy or worried. I mean, this guy might be in the same situation as me or he could be working against me.

My worries, however, were forced aside when the stranger nodded. "Sure thing! I'm Alfred F. Jones and I'm supposed to be your mentor!"

MW: Alright, commentary. As you guys probably have noticed, this first chapter is vastly different from TFG one. That one was a little plot set up and mostly slap stick whereas this puppy was mostly plot with a few good lines. I swear to God, next chapter when we actually meet all the Hetalia characters, this will become ten times funnier.

BFTL: Yuppy! And people, here's an idea: if the 70+ people who read TFG all reviewed this one chapter, everyone would be freaking over over how a one chapter story was so popular.

SEK: You do realize that'll never happen, right?

BFTL: We can try.

MW: Thank you for reading!


"The stupid guy gets a king" Not to get into a long history discussion, but during 17th century England, there was a Catholic king on the throne who gave religious freedom to a Protestant country. The response was to kick him off the throne and replace him with his Protestant sister and her Dutch husband. This is called "The Glorious Revolution."

Next Chapter: Larry and Alfred slowly reach an understanding and our hero meets the rest of the crew.