Hello, my lovelies! How are you today? I am well, thank you for asking! I really just want to apologize for how badly written the original first chapter was. So yes, sorry for that, I was twelve! Hopefully this one will be much better than that one! So… Onward!

"Dude, how are you even a country? You're so weak!" America let out a laugh as he said this whilst poking Italy in the cheek a few times. Italy simply gave a small smile and ignored him.

"Don't insult him, America, I'm sure he doesn't mean to be weak," England walked over and "saved" the smaller nation. Italy still said nothing, which was very uncharacteristic, but if he even tried he knew he would start crying, and that wouldn't exactly help his case, now would it?

"Yes, America, don't insult Italians. They aren't quite as forgiving as they may seem," Italy didn't even realize that he'd said this until the other two turned to look at him in surprise. The moment he did, he stood and started gathering his things.

"Hey, where are you going?" America asked. "I'm talking to you, Italy!" He exclaimed, putting his hand on the brunette's shoulder.

"Ve~ The meeting's over, so I'm going to go make pasta!" The Italian answered before proceeding to rush out of the room before anyone else could say anything to him.

"What the bloody hell was that?" England asked incredulously, staring after him.

~~~~In Italy's hotel room later that evening~~~~

Italy was currently pacing his room impatiently with a hard look on his face. 'Weak? I'll show them weak!' He stopped in his tracks the moment this thought entered his brain, frowning. What was wrong with him lately? He'd even snapped at Doitsu earlier! So unlike him. But.. The thought was pleasant. Revenge? How sweet would it feel to have the very nations who had tortured, taunted, and beaten him for years bow down in front of him and beg for mercy?

He shook his head quickly to rid the idea, grabbing at his hair. 'I must be going crazy! I don't want to hurt them! They're my friends!'

Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He stopped and lowered his hands and watched, transfixed, as his reflection seemed to move on its own. It rippled and changed until it was completely different. Different clothes, different eyes, even the look on its face was foreign to him. With a sudden flash of insight, he decided he liked this new look, and the reflection returned to normal. He turned away, deciding it would be best if he got some rest, because he was freaking himself out with these new thoughts. If he hadn't done so, he would have seen how his eyes really did change, from a warm brown to a vivid magenta.

~~~~At the world meeting the next day~~~~

Italy walked calmly into the meeting room and sat down, completely ignoring the fact that people were staring at him. The reason was simple: he was wearing sunglasses inside, and his skin also appeared a shade darker than it had the day before, but he was totally comfortable with this. He was wearing his usual uniform, but he hoped to change this soon, he didn't like old Italy. Old Italy was weak. That was Feliciano. He was no longer that person. America and England walked up to him, America looking sheepish.

"Hey, Italy. Um.. I just wanted to apologize for yesterday. I took it too far, and.. I'm sorry," America said, not making eye contact. Italy smiled, and England shivered and looked away himself. It wasn't a smile, really, it was the way a predator might look at its prey.

"Are you, now? Because it seems to me that you're perfectly okay with the decisions you made, and Arthur here made you come and say your apologies," Italy said lazily, and every head in the room turned in their direction for various reasons. The first was that he had spoken in such a formal way. The second was that he had crossed the invisible line of using another nation's human name inside the meeting room. But it was the third that had grabbed quite a bit of the attention in the room: he had pulled out a knife and was threading it through the fingers of one hand as though he'd been doing it for years. Neither of the other two said anything for a long while, and Italy let out a sigh and stood up. "I really don't know why I bother coming to these things. Nothing ever gets done, and you're all annoying."

The Italian then took his knife and threw it at the far wall before walking out.

Aaaannnnddd…. Done! For now. I'll see you guys next chapter, byee~!