2P: Oh, Butterscotch! [Kirk+Sherry+Poofy+Witchy] warning: blood/violence/gore

[Lord Arthur Kirkland]

Things generally start with dreams, do they not? Unfortunately, Arthur Kirkland suffered from night terrors. Blood, screams, monsters, often the young man couldn't tell the difference between his dreams and reality, not that there was much of a difference. Like any cheeky protagonist, the other nation refused to let such things keep him down! It didn't matter that he only dreamed he had used his knife to give other America a bigger smile, it was simply the thought that counted! Plus, he got twice as much time to practice with his knives and his lovely pastries. Just about everyone knew Arthur's pastries were to die for.

The night terrors meant that the skinny man rose quite early. After picking out which cotton candy- themed set of a shirt, vest, bow tie, and pants he would wear, he check on his favorite unicorn friend. Of course, the flesh of said friend had rotted away long ago, leaving a plain skull that often seemed to beg Arthur to paint with blood or at least some poison. Unfortunately, dear Fiddlesticks the unicorn had no interesting advice to offer today, and Arthur had a guest coming!

Luckily, he still had a few hours left to bake some delicious treats for his good friend (and unwitting test subject), Alfred. Should he make some strawberry shortcakes with his added touch of cyanide? It would certainly match his strawberry blonde hair like his clothes matched his blue eyes (that often hinted of purple when staring at blood). But the thought of making his extra-special cocoa muffins with foxglove was also tempting! Finally, the gaunt young man decided on sweet rolls with just a hint of a laxative on a couple of them. After all, he wanted to enjoy some of his sweets!

Arthur settled down with a warm mug of hot chocolate and awaited his good friend's arrival.

[Sheriff Jones]

He was walking down the lonely street, shoulders hunched, carelessly dragging a bloodstained baseball bat in the dirt behind him. A painted trail of red followed him from the scene of his last quenching party, but he hardly noticed. Usually after such a satisfying session of bashing in a few heads, a demonic grin made it’s home against his lips. However, this time around, his handsome face remained perfectly blank. Something was different about this morning. It was scarcely ten o’clock and he had already been forced to break the bodies of a number of lesser beings in hopes of ridding himself of this insatiable bloodlust. But it did no good and it was time he faced facts.

Alfred F. Jones was bored.

Everyday it was the same, dull routine. Even murders had grown boring due to lack of prey smart enough or skilled enough to put up a good fight. It was depressing yes, but more importantly, it left Alfred jittery and unsatisfied. Which was why he had made the decision to visit an old acquaintance of his - Arthur Kirkland. The damnable man would no doubt have a sweetshop waiting for him, but he chose to overlook this irritating trait in favor of solving his more pressing concern. Arthur may be a nut job armed with sugar and cyanide, but he knew Alfred better then most. He would be able to come up with the perfect solution to cure this slump of his.

Alfred stopped when he reached the other England’s door. He suddenly grinned at the sight, exposing two perfect rows of white teeth. Without preamble, he kicked one muddy boot against the wooden frame before hauling his baseball bat over his shoulder. Making an entrance was one of his strong suits, it would be a shame to change that now. He let out a snicker as he slammed the barrel of his weapon into the door. The wood splintered beautifully under his power and he quickly yanked the bat up to repeat the action again and again.

There was something distinctly therapeutic about smashing the door to bits. In his glee, he nearly forgot his intended purpose. But as the remains of the grand door lay before him in a splintered, uninteresting pile, his grim look returned. It still wasn’t enough. “Arthur!” He growled as he stepped over what was left of the other’s front door. “Where the hell are you?! I need some entertainment!”

[Detective Jones]

The Alfred F. Jones of another place entirely also had time to spare. He wasn't particularly bored, after all if he wanted to occupy his time he could just go home and play video games all night. No, he was craving something else. Food for one. He was hungry and after downing half a bag of chips from his kitchen he realized they just weren't hitting the right spot. So he left his house.

He visited several place down the street but nothing looked quite right to his stomach. He was craving something specific, an itch for something he didn't have often. The mystery of it all was getting him just a little grumpy as well. He pouted to himself as he stopped for a moment to think. It wasn't burgers or pizza or chips or the usual hoard of junk food he could whip up quickly enough. Sweets, oh yes. Maybe that was it.

So he tried a donut shop next. The sugary delights were very good. Extremely good in fact. He bought a box of them on his way out. However, they still weren't what he was looking for and it left him searching his mind for answers. He had tried everywhere by now. Goodness, the only place he hadn't been to was Arthur's.

Arthur's...

Could that really be it? Alfred almost wanted to smack himself in the forehead. This was embarrassing. He didn't get cravings for Arthur's excuse for food often..but when he did it always came with the other teasing him and insisting that he stop lying to himself about how good of a cook he was. Arthur never failed to feed him though whenever he asked. Things were nice like that.

So Alfred sucked up his pride and tucked his box of donuts under his arm and headed to Arthur's place. He wandered if the Englishman would be busy this time of day.

He knocked loudly on the door, his usual goofy expression in place with just a hint of showing he wanted something. "Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Open up! I..uh..got something to show you! Yeah, that's it!"

[Ghost]

The Arthur Kirkland of another place at that moment was in deep concentration. He wanted to try out a spell he found, some sort of a link to a parallel universe in which he can use to finally prove to the arses around the world that magic does exist, thank you very much. The chalk left unintelligible marks all over the stone flags of his basement's floor, objects of questionable origins littered all over the place at seemingly random spots and right now he would be pouring the essence of kangaroo over-

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. His hand almost jerked over in surprise - did he even have a visitor today? Grumbling, he got up when he realised who exactly was at the door - that bloody git, he never did call ahead, did he - and swept an eye over the almost complete circle. If he ignored it, the git would probably barge in anyway and ruin everything he had done...

Besides, a few minutes of chasing America away wouldn't hurt the spell, right? He took off his cloak and went up to the front door.

He was right - there America stood, in his full obnoxious glory. He scowled.

"There is no need to bang down my door, America, I can hear you perfectly well," he said crisply. "Now what is it you wanted to show me? I'm afraid I'm actually quite busy at the moment."

[And in the basement, the energy gathered and festered, waiting.]

[Lord Arthur Kirkland]

Alfred was late, 30 minutes late, but Arthur didn't mind. Oh no, there were bigger and better things to do. After all, the stupid, spoiled child had broken his lovely door. What was the other England going to do about replacing it? Invite a stranger to fix it? The person would end up poisoned before they could do anything and that simply wouldn't do. Arthur had never disciplined the other nation when he was naught but a colony, and the older nation had long since paid the price for that. Yes, that day in the rain reminded Arthur that people needed to be punished, and there was no use being all mopey about it. The world was a bowl of candy, begging Arthur to devour it. Alas, he had grown tired of the taste, so then, he would simply play with his food.

"Bored? Well I know one way to cure boredom," he let out a bubbly laugh, approaching the offending nation with his cyanide-laced strawberry shortcakes. Yet, before the brutish man could snatch a treat off the plate, Arthur yanked it away. "No, no, poisoning you would be too easy. Even if you did destroy my door. Fiddlesticks!" Arthur cheerfully babbled at Alfred, circling the other man. "Yes... We could ask Fiddlesticks how to cure this loathsome lethargy. He'd certainly know. But first, there is the matter of my door," he continued, putting the tray down before tackling Alfred, and pressing Arthur's favorite knife right up against his cheek.

"I was quite fond of the door, and I know I've been lax about disciplining you, so I started to think and think... Then I realized, perhaps if I cut up your mouth a bit, you'll give me a pretty smile and start to behave better. I think its called a Glasgow smile, isn't that cute?" Arthur giggled, grabbing Alfred by the jaw in attempt to hold the larger nation down.

"Do try to be careful, I don't want to ruin your lovely little face~ That would certainly ruin both of our days! And if you're not a good boy, I don't know if Fiddlesticks will help you with your boredom. No, I'd imagine you'd be too busy visiting that nasty little thing called a hospital," England said, smile growing wider.

[Sheriff Jones]

It seemed Arthur had heard his ‘knocking’ after all. Alfred’s lips pulled up into a grin when he noticed the fury looming over his host, hidden behind a pair of twinkling blue eyes and a pastel dress shirt. Yes, this was exactly what he had needed. A good bout with the other England never failed to keep him amused, even on the dullest of mornings. He could only hope that today, he pulled out all his tricks. If Alfred could predict all his moves, this confrontation was no better then the ones he had with all the awful normals. So boring.

Alfred stiffened as his vision was blocked by a line of perfectly baked shortcakes. Ugh, disgusting. Why Arthur wasted his time preparing his sugary treats was beyond him. Alfred never indulged in them, and not because he knew they were laced with more then just powdered sugar. “I didn’t destroy it. I merely knocked and the flimsy thing fell apart.” In order to antagonize the other England further, he let the side of his bat rest against the carpeted floor, the nails tearing the fabric each time he moved. Already he felt his boredom slipping away.

Alfred smirked when he found himself on the ground with a knife pressed against his cheek. If anybody else had tried to pull a stunt like that on him, he would have bashed their brains in already. But, because it was Arthur, he was interested to see where this was going. Ah, he was playing the discipline card again - dull. Arthur was still so fixed on seeing him as the little colony even though he had long since broke away and flourished on his own. Fucking nostalgic old man; he wasn’t a boy anymore.

“I’m not giving you a 'pretty smile' Arthur,” He snarled, slamming his bat into the ground beside him. Using it as leverage, he grabbed the cheery mass murderer by the collar and threw him to the ground. “I’m not a child anymore, nor am I your colony.” Alfred ignored the cool metal still pressed menacingly up against his cheek, grinning as he his place on top of Arthur. “Or were you trying to forget that you have no power over me? Because I would be more then willing to remind you.” He tugged his weapon free and positioned it just so beside Arthur’s face. If he felt like it, he could swing it back and impale the jagged nails into his cheek. Or, he could resort to his tried and true method of bashing it into his skull. Alfred revealed in the variety.

“I asked you to entertain me, old man.” Alfred pitched forward and smashed their lips together. Their connection didn’t last long as his teeth found Arthur’s bottom lip and began tearing at it. He pulled away when he was sure he had created a line of small gashes his flesh. “Is this your idea of entertainment? I’m getting bored over here.” A lie of course, this was the most entertainment he had experienced in weeks. “Now do something interesting!”

[Detective Jones]

America knocked again when he didn't hear anything on the other side of the door wondering if England was alright or if he might be in some sort of trouble that a hero like himself was needed for. He was just about to call out again when he heard small quiet footsteps and then the door finally opened.

Alfred smiled brightly at Arthur and held out the box of half eaten donuts in his hand for a lack of anything else to use as en excuse. The other's grumpy attitude didn't deter him in the slightest. "Eh This!..These! I brought them for you!" He toke his chance of a moment to step forward and into the house before the door could be shut on him. He glanced over England's shoulder and into the room curiously.

"Busy?..Are you..in the kitchen doing something?" He asked trying to hide the hopeful tone in his voice. He didn't want to give away completely how much he wanted something but he figured dropping a hint might help. Then his eyes trailed down to the floor, or more specifically England's footprints. "Did you step in something, Arthur?..like..flour or..chalk?" He asked his frown just as expressive as his smiles as the gears in his head turned trying to figure out what the other nation had been doing. Then he clicked and Alfred gave short laugh.

"Are you playing your dungeons and Dragons stuff again? Aw man, you know if you wanted to play a game you could have called me over!"

[Ghost]

From their half-eaten state it was plainly obvious that America did not buy them with England in mind - more of for himself and as an excuse to drop by. Before any protests could be issued, the former had already came into the house and was looking (hopefully?) at the kitchen.

Arthur scowled. He knew very well what the git was thinking. It was the frog all over again - check the kitchen first before entering England's house. Even if America did eat his cooking sometimes, it was once in a blue moon and he would rather be caught dead than eating England's cooking, of all things. 

What was 'dungeons and dragons'...? Oh. 

"I certainly am not playing games," he snapped. "Magic does exist, you arse, and I'll show it to you one day..."

Wait. That was it! He'll send America to the parallel universe, bring him back, and America won't be able to deny the existence of magic! And if that works, America would have to admit to the other nations that magic does exist and that was exactly what England wanted. Rest of the world be damned, he'll just get America back for all those years of mocking him. 

"America..." he smirked. "Why don't you come on down to the basement? I'll show you that magic is real. Unless you're scared that little old England can actually prove something you've been denying...?"

He turned on his heels and headed for his basement, the smirk still firmly on his countenance. This was his chance, and he surely was not going to waste it!

That was the plan, at least until he opened the door into a pulsing mass of dark purple energy swirling around the room. He paled considerably at the sight - it was glaringly obvious that dark energy never boded well, and this was one such case.

Then something moved into him and he stumbled forward. Tendrils of purple shot out towards him and pulled him towards the center as he struggled in vain to break the circle, to do something, anything. His last sight was of America by the door, illuminated by the purple light. 

As the world gradually turned black and fell through, he hoped America at least had the brains not to walk into a pile of dark energy.

[Lord Arthur Kirkland]

After being flipped and pulled into a brutal kiss, Arthur merely let out a laugh that resembled a hyena's. "Are you really a self-sufficient adult? You still seem like a cute little colony for me when you come crying to me, begging for amusement," England smiled, despite his bleeding lip and the bat dangerously close to his face. He moved the knife down to press up against America's throat. His other hand moved down to feel up the other as the man in pastels smiled widely. "Is this what you want? Sexual pleasure?" Arthur purred, moving his hips up to meet Alfred's.

"How boring," Arthur's face grew oddly serious for a moment before returning to a wide grin as he continued to speak, "We could do that any-time~ If you weren't such a bad boy who never listens to or visits your dear old chum." He let out another hyena-laugh, pressing the knife a little deeper in order to draw blood. "You see, Fiddlesticks, the lovely old chap, has a plan for some fun. And if you don't start acting like a good kid, I will take all the fun for myself. You need me to talk to Fiddlesticks about it, and so if you do anything bad to me, you'll lose the opportunity," England giggled, moving the free hand up to pat America's cheek.

"This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, old chap! These victims won't even know what hit them, and they're tough enough to survive a good amount of playing with," Arthur laughed more. Oh the thought of messing up another him and another Alfred was just too thrilling! He couldn't help but laugh. Things were so jolly and amusing, so America would have to go along with it!

[Sheriff Jones]

His lips pulled up in a disgusted sneer as the man who raised him lay beneath him, bleeding and giggling like a madman. He could handle himself just fine, but, out of pity mixed with spite, he had graciously decided to visit his old caretaker. Entertainment wasn’t so difficult to come by that he needed Arthur’s assistance. “Shut up,” He snapped, bringing his bat closer so that a couple of the rusted nails pressed up against Arthur’s cheek. Any sudden movements and they would create a couple lovely holes in his pale flesh. “I don’t need you. I never fucking needed you. Say the word and I’ll prove once and for all how much I don’t need you.” Alfred gestured to the bat, threatening to spill Arthur’s lovely brains onto the carpet.

He didn’t so much as react to the other man feeling him up. Alfred knew Arthur well enough to realize when he was playing with him and he wasn’t looking to give him the upper hand. “What would be the fun in fucking you? It would be so boring how easily you would break. So weak, just like that day in the rain.” Alfred didn’t flinch when the blade pressed into the tender flesh of his neck. On the contrary, he leaned in closer so that the metal bit deeper, a trail of red blood spilling down his torso and Arthur’s hand. Pain was lovely, was it not? Even the smallest prick of the skin sent a spark of exhilaration shooting through his body, reminding him that he was still alive. And the greater the pain, the more alive he felt.

“What the hell are you talking about, old man?” A plan for fun? That could mean anything from baking a cake or committing a triple homicide in Arthur land. Alfred’s interest perked when he mentioned ‘victims’. Victims strong enough not to wither away after only a few minutes of play. Victims that wouldn’t realize what was happening until it hit them at full force. Now this was starting to sound fun. He knew visiting Arthur would cure him of his boredom.

Alfred rolled off the older nation. He stood up, threw his bat over his shoulder and adjusted the pair of tinted frames he wore over his eyes. “You better not be lying about this old timer, otherwise I’ll have to make do with bashing in your skull instead. And we both know that wouldn’t be any fun at all.” Now to get down to business. A demonic grin spread across his face and his fingers began to tremble with excitement at the thought of going up against more challenging prey. “Where are these perfect victims of ours?” A deep chuckle sounded in the back of his throat as his excitement grew. “I want to start the games…”

[Detective Jones]

America walked further into England's house rolling his eyes slightly as the other spoke. "Sure, Sure you will. You take your time doing that." He says with a short laugh. It wasn't that he thought Arthur was lying..but..well. He did tend to have a little fantasy world of his own that no one else could understand. So when Arthur started rattling on about magic America just smiled and nodded.

"Does the basement have anything to eat?" Alfred asked making a bit of a face. Ok so he HAD said he's play a game with Arthur but he really didn't want to be stuck playing tea party or something with the man's imaginary friend's all afternoon.

"Pshh-I'm not scared of nothing." He says puffing out his chest slightly as he walks to the basement door with Arthur. Not paying attention to where he is going he bumps into the back of Arthur who seems to have stopped quite suddenly.

America focuses his attention on the current events just in time to see Arthur pitch forward and fall through..what appeared to be some sort of purpley cloudy...storm?

"A-Arthur why is there a storm cloud in your basement..." He asks nervously although as jokingly as he tries to sound he has a feeling this isn't a good thing at all. He's a hero though, even if it's a scary weird storm cloud he has to rescue Arthur from it! So he steps forward and reaches out trying to catch Arthur's hand on his but as soon as he does so he himself is finds the floor swept out from under his feet and he's in the air.

This was bad..very bad.

[Ghost]

When Arthur woke up, the first he saw was a skull. 

Well, as any sane person knows, waking up to a skull will not make you feel happy and secure; in fact, Arthur yelped rather loudly and scrambled away, backwards. He looked wildly around the room - it was small, dark, and something that smells suspiciously like blood sat in a bowl next to the skull. He averted his eyes - the skull had a horn and looked suspiciously like a unicorn's, and a dead unicorn is never a good sign. 

He got up and brushed himself off, finally noticing America by his feet. In the darkness it was hard to tell if he was awake or asleep; but since the git wasn't blabbering his mouth off the moment Arthur got up, he figured that it was the latter. 

So... They were in a parallel universe. He felt a slight tad thrilled, excited; this was a new experience even for a Nation like him. He wondered if his counterpart here - surely he had one - would be exactly like him: loves tea, a gentleman, believes in magic, etcetera, etcetera.  He pushed open the door, closing it after him (let the git panic) and wandered about (his counterpart's? It looked like his own and some) until he reached the main hall. 

"I want to start the games..."

The games...? Was that America's voice? Arthur looked around the corner cautiously - there America was, albeit a differently colored one, looking down at someone on the floor. Arthur's attention was drawn to the very dangerous-looking bat he wielded and suddenly he didn't want to know what games. The question was, who was on the floor? His alternate self, or...?

All the signs he had spotted had turned out to be foreboding - and Arthur wondered if this had been a good idea after all. 

((Is this too fast a pace?))

[Lord Arthur Kirkland]

"Ah our guests have arrived! I was worried you might be late, but you both have impeccable timing, my dear chaps! I made a cake just for you~ So why don't we head on into the dining room?" Arthur grinned. He put the knife away and stood up, sending Alfred a warning smile that said 'Play nice for now'.

"Oh golly gumdrops, this is so exciting! I haven't had a proper guest in quite a while, and now there are two! Things have been so dreadfully boring, so it's smashing you have you chaps here," the cheerful nation babbled as he made sure the two new arrivals were herded into his own dining room. "Alfred, be nice and allow these two to take their seats. I want them to feel at home. I shall go fetch their cake," Arthur said, turning and heading into the kitchen.

The other three were left to themselves for a few minutes while Arthur bustled about the kitchen. However, what interrupted their away from England time was not the man in pastels bursting in with cake and more cheerful small talk, but an odd sort of swearing coming from the kitchen. "Oh, butterscotch!" Arthur wanted to clutch his hand in pain. He was dreadfully foolish for burning his hand while trying to fetch the cake. This, hopefully, wouldn't upset his plans for the guests. There were so many things to do, and quite a bit of time to do them in (once he'd knocked them out and lowered their chances of escape, that is). Despite the pain in his hand, Arthur almost wanted to laugh with glee as he considered all the things he could do with their guests.

[Sheriff Jones]

Unlike his counterpart, the other America caught onto what was happening almost immediately. The men who stood before them looked identical to Arthur and himself, save for the color of their skin, hair, and eyes. Either these were clones of some sort or, more likely another version of themselves that Arthur had somehow managed to pull into their world. He smirked in amusement. Now he understood. Instead of breaking out his trusty bat right away, he opted to follow Arthur’s unspoken order to play nicely. After all, it would be no fun if this ended too quickly.

“Of course, right this way,” He said, putting on his best smile as he stepped forward to take their ‘guests’ by the arm. In spite of his violent tendencies, he could behave like a perfect gentleman if it meant more amusement later on. While Arthur bounced around and made a general nescience of himself with his constant chatter, he happily forced the two into the dining room. It never occurred to him that the newcomers would suspect something was wrong simply by the traces of blood on Arthur’s lip and against his throat. “Please sit down, make yourselves comfortable. Arthur will be back momentarily.” Alfred grinned happily and pushed his counterpart harshly into a chair as a subtle way to test his strength. How much fun he would have to go up against someone who wouldn’t break under the full force of his power.

Alfred kept grinning, even as Arthur’s curses drifted in from the kitchen. He had some idea of what Arthur was planning next. Poisoning their new playmates would be far too easy, but they needed some security to ensure that the two wouldn’t run off before the fun started. Sedatives it was then - perfect. “You will enjoy the cake, Arthur is a great baker.” Ugh, as if. Disgusting sugar treats did little besides clog the arteries and fatten up the useless pigs that roamed the earth. Why Arthur busied himself with such a meaningless hobby was beyond him, but he didn’t care to psychoanalyze his former caretaker. That was for a day when he was exceptionally bored.

Alfred stood in-between their two counterparts, grinning widely. Today was turning out to be interesting after all.

[Detective Jones]

Alfred awoke to his head throbbing dully but it wasn't too bad, had he fallen down the stairs to Arthur's basement? Was that what had happened?. He groaned to himself and sat up spying Arthur already walking about only a brief glimpse around told him that this was not Arthur's basement..not quite at least. He spotted the skull on the ground and shivered slightly scooting across the floor away from it and standing.

"Arthur what in the world..?" He asked rubbing at his head as he turned. "What are you talking abo-" Alfred stopped as he blinked a few times and wiped at his glasses but it was no use. Arthur was still standing there but his mouth wasn't moving..Alfred was sure though that that was his voice he was hearing. "Is this one of your magic tricks again, old man?" He asked making a face.

That was when he saw them, or..well himself and Arthur. It was strange, like looking into a mirror only Alfred had never seen Arthur smile that widely before..nor did he recall ever dying his hair a brownish color. So that couldn't be right. "Arthur if this is a trick it isn't very funny.." He says with a bit of a frown.

Before he can protest further though there is mention of cake and his reflection is taking his arm and ushering them into what seems to be a dining room. When he is pushed into his chair though he finds the use of force from the other man a little uncalled for a jerks his shoulder away giving a suspicious glance. Something about this was...off, now right, odd,..in other words. Not good.

Still though he HAD wanting food..and well if wasn't coming from the Arthur he imagined it would be there was another Arthur offering none the less. Maybe things were so bad, maybe his mind was playing tricks on him or something. The place did seem to have a cotton candied theme, at least as far as some of the other Arthur's wardrobe was concerned and at hearing the curse he chuckled and elbowed his Arthur playfully. "Your not nearly as eloquent when you burn yourself."

So Alfred put on his usual cheerful smile and waited patiently, fighting the urge to not sit still in his chair. He was going to get cake, there was no way getting cake could be bad, right?

[Ghost]

It was truly disconcerting to see his alternate version so... Happy. He was used to scowls and smirks on his own face, but the Arthur here seemed to have a grin almost the size of a Cheshire Cat's with pastel colored clothes to boot. He wouldn't be caught dead in his own world wearing things like that. And he talked so much, accentuating his words with gestures, ushering Arthur and Alfred into his dining room along with the alternate Alfred - who seemed to be quite a gentleman, he noted - and finally going into his kitchen, bustling about.

He sat down on a chair offered to him, looking about the place properly. It was like his own home, truly, only with lighter themes and the such. He could sense Alfred fidgeting about - really, at the slightest mention of food he would get so restless - and scowled at him at his remark.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said frostily. He didn't burn food, he was merely making sure it was baked/fried/toasted to 'golden-brown crispy perfection'! It wasn't his fault that others who ate his food were prejudiced against all of his dishes.

It never crossed his mind that the two somehow knew they were coming.

[Lord Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur was disappointed that he had to take time to care for his silly wound. Oh well, at least this meant the would probably wouldn't cause him any problems if he needed to use it later when entertaining his guests. With a smile, Arthur brought out the impeccably decorated chocolate cake and set it in front of the other pair of nations. Even if he had happened to add in a drug that would knock the unwitting houseguests out, Arthur took extra care in his preparation of the cake. The cake was certainly delicious, and the slightly odd aftertaste was well hidden. As for the icing, well, Arthur considered himself an artist when it came to decorating cakes and other food. He offered his own Alfred a smile before stepping away from the table. "Oh~ I do hope you enjoy my cooking! I pride myself on my baking skills!" England added with a smile.

While he wanted to breathlessly wait, staring at the guests until they ate, Arthur knew it might unnerve them a bit. Instead, the candy colored nation pulled his Alfred into a hug, giving the taller nation a twisted smile. Just the thought of being able to toy with these new victims made Arthur's spine shiver with pleasure. "I do enjoy having house guests over, old chum~ Why this is the most exciting thing that has happened in quite a while!" he gently gave his Alfred's cheek a pat and his lips a chaste kiss.

Then, the cotton candy clothed man leaned over his guests chairs and gave another wide smile. "Eat up, chaps! I made this lovely cake just for you, and I don't want it to go to waste! Think of it as... a welcoming gift! Isn't that loverly?" Arthur gesticulated wildly as he spoke. Oh he simply was much too excited by all the fun that could happen! He had to hold back a laugh, well, at least till the others were unconscious.

[Sheriff Jones]

Alfred did his best not to stare at his new playthings for too long, but it was difficult. Arthur had really outdone himself this time. The two really were the perfect opponents - strong, skilled, and the fact that they were alternate copies of themselves made the game delightfully more challenging. Alfred was nearly beside himself with glee. But he mustn’t start yet. Arthur was ensuring that their guests wouldn’t run off and if his resolve broke too soon, there was certainly going to be hell to pay. Not that he was afraid of anything Arthur might do, but finding something else to do this late in the day would be a drag.

Arthur returned with the promised cake and set it down before the other two with a wide grin. Alfred opened his arms to accept the hug from his Arthur, snickering softly at the twisted grin he wore. Somebody was just as impatient as he was~ He kissed Arthur back and squeezed him lightly as they waited for their alternate selves to eat. Once the drugs took effect, they would have a lovely discussion about how the games would be played and who got to play with whom. Oh the excitment was almost unbearable! “How can they be expected to eat Arthur?” Alfred asked, chastising his former guardian with a dark smile. Really, it wasn't like the perfect little host to forget something so basic. His anticipiation was making him slip up. “They haven’t been properly served.”

He pulled away and went into the kitchen, locating one of Arthur’s many serving knives along with a couple of plates. He returned, cut the cake with a surprising amount of dexterity and placed two slices before the other America and England. “Please eat. It would be a shame to let such a beautiful cake to go to waste.” The devilish young man grinned, placed utensils on the table, and returned to his Arthur. The waiting came next. He always hated waiting for playtime, ever since he was a young boy. But it was a necessary evil they had to endure. Oh the fun they would have once this terrible little act had run it's course. Alfred grinned darkly and tightly gripped the top of his counterpart’s chair. It wasn’t long now.

[Detective Jones]

"I'm not being ridiculous!" Alfred protested making a face at Arthur before turning back in time to see the lovely cake being brought out. His eyes lit up in excitement. Oh it looked so good!! Nothing like his Arthur usually made. He practically was leaning forward across the table in anticipation. He would have been drooling as well if Arthur hadn't knocked that habit out of him long ago.

He glanced up at the other two with a big smile. "Wow, you really made this? Just for us?" He almost couldn't believe how lucky he was. Then he saw the others little moment or closeness and adverted his eyes quickly before a blush could creep up into his cheeks. He vaguely wondered if perhaps they were together. They certainly seemed.. close enough like they were reading each other's minds or something.

Alfred decided not to think about it too much and when his look alike serve them up their slices of cake he barely got the utensil in his hands before he started to dig in. He licked his lips to get all the icing that collected around his mouth and really it didn't take much time at all before he had cleaned his plate. "It's so good! Can I have seconds?!" Alfred asked holding out his plate with a cheerful, yet slightly messy smile on his face. He had plenty of room for more although there was a small sleepy feeling beginning to creep up in his stomach. He figured it was just food coma. Good food did that to him sometimes. For now though he definitely wanted more, who knows when the next time was that he would get something this good.

He glanced over at his Arthur urging him to go on and eat. It was amazing! "You guys too! Don't just stand there! We should all enjoy it right?" He says gesturing to the others. "It was real nice of you to do this for us, so you should get something too." He reasons.

[Ghost]

The cake looked like something from Arthur's daydreams of being a culinary master - and probably tasted like it too. He concentrated on it, steadfastly ignoring the blatant display of affection between their counterparts - he wasn't sure if he would be embarrassed or hope for the nation next to him to do the same thing-

Ahem.

On America's insistence, he took some bites out of the cake (there was a bit of sadness at seeing the cake being eaten, it looked so perfect) and yes, it was as heavenly as he thought. He did not ask for seconds - he knew that America would undoubtedly devour the whole thing had England not been present - but agreed with America nonetheless. "Yes," he cut up two slices, placing one of them on his plate and offering it to the America of this world, smiling at him. "We might as well share the joy, don't you think?"

There was a faint woozy feeling at the back of his head that whispered to him that something was wrong with this world, the atmosphere hanging thick and heavy above; but England merely dismissed those thoughts and sat back in his chair. Strange, he must have stayed up longer than expected while drawing the circle, and perhaps crossing dimensions was taking more of a toll on his body than expected. He reclined back, forgetting all about sitting up straight and correct postures - instead, his mind drifted off into the nice dark abyss that awaited.

Arthur fell asleep.

[Lord Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur grinned widely when the alternate versions of himself and Alfred were asleep. He laughed a bit.

"Oh they're so trusting! They must not have learned never to take candy from strangers. How cute! How innocent! Oh I simply cannot wait to have some fun. I wonder how long it'll take to break them," he said, starting to giggle again. England simply couldn't help it! The idea of playing with other nations without ties to this world, well it was quite amazing. He made a mental note to thank Fiddlesticks for this wonderful opportunity.

Either way, since the other two were asleep, Arthur had to toy with someone. "You know, I almost invited my dear chum Ivan instead of you. I don't think he would have broken my door," Arthur teased with a grin. Making Alfred jealous would certainly be a lot of fun! Even if it happened to give Arthur a few broken bones. He patted Alfred on the cheek with a grin before saying, "He's much better behaved than you. And he actually bothers to visit more often than you."

England was simply having too much fun toying with America, so he almost forgot about their guests. He glanced over at their sleeping bodies before commenting, "We have been terrible hosts! We haven't showed our guests to their room, yet! We certainly have to make them comfortable here, don't you think, Alfred?" Arthur had the perfect room in his basement for this!

[Sheriff Jones]

It was almost adorable how naïve their alternative selves were. Accepting and consuming sustenance from two unknown men, even men who resembled them almost identically was more than ignorant, it was downright foolish. And in this world, such a move would only serve to get you killed. “You said these one’s would be stronger,” Alfred said, kicking his unconscious counterparts chair. “I don’t want them breaking before we’ve had any real fun.” He wouldn’t want for that awful boredom to rear its ugly head, now did he?

“Ivan?” The name came out more as a snarl than a question. Arthur was messing with him, he wasn’t dumb enough not to recognize this, but that didn't stop the unpleasant sensation of jealousy from boiling up into his chest. He snapped forward and gripped Arthur’s wrist tightly, his expression dark. “He is not to come over again, understand me? If I see you speaking to him, I will rip his face off, no questions asked.” To prove just how serious he was, Alfred yanked the other England closer and bit down hard on his earlobe. “You are mine, got that? Nobody is allowed to fucking touch you besides me.”

Alfred pulled back, his expression still hard although his anger was quickly fading. Ivan and Arthur's supposed 'friendship' was nothing in comparision to their new playmates for the day. “Comfortable, right,” The younger nation scoffed as he looped his arms around Arthur's double, tossing him over his shoulder with ease. His counterpart on the other hand, offered a more substantial weight. “Fat ass,” he grumbled as he shifted the other America so that his bulk didn’t crush him. What did this guy eat on a regular basis? Ugh, he could stand to lose a few pounds.

He didn’t have to ask Arthur to know exactly where he wanted the two to be taken. He had been around the nutcase long enough to know about his torture chamber of a basement. Personally, Alfred found it all a bit tacky, but he was the guest in this situation, so he would play Arthur’s way for now. Without waiting to be directed, he lugged the two sacks of deadweight down the stairs and into the dark recesses of Arthur Kirkland’s home. “How long are they going to be out?” He asked, dropping the other America without a care in the world as soon as he reached the bottom. “You know I hate waiting, old man.”

[Detective Jones]

Alfred doesn't know when it happened but one moment he was eating some delicious cake and the next his head was falling forward onto the table narrowly missing the plate of left over cake in front of him. for a few moments he could hear the other twos voices still just some mumbling sounds before he blacked out.

He wouldn't be aware of the troubling conversation between the other two while he was fast asleep, nor would be realize that he was being picked up and insulted while being taken through the house and down into a horrible terrible place. If he had been awake there would have been much squirming and punches thrown but since that wasn't the case he went along peacefully.

It wouldn't be until he was starting to come around again, feeling something definitely not a chair under him but much harder, colder, uncomfortable that his face twitched into a expression of mild discomfort and he groaned in the back of his throat as he tried to turn and roll over not wanting to shake the sleepy feeling that kept pushing in on his mind, thinking everything had just been a dream and he had fallen asleep and rolled off the couch again as he was prone to do on his without work the next day.

"mmnngu...Arthur...yu...cake sucks."

[Ghost]

Likewise, Arthur was just as blissfully unaware of the exchange between their two alternate counterparts - one tended to be ignorant of their surroundings when sedated; should he ever try to remember what happened, the only thing he could hope to recall was the perfect cake and the ginormous headache that far outranked many of his worst hangover. Had Arthur been more wary and cautious of this new parallel universe, perhaps this situation would have been avoided; but as it was he wasn't, and was now paying the price. 

He groaned as he came to, the aforementioned headache throbbing in his head, but did not open his eyes. Maybe he was out with Denmark and Prussia yesterday night and had one too many sips (bottles) of alcohol. The floor wasn't an exactly comfortable place though, he came to realise as his cheek pressed against the cold concrete told him, but was extremely reluctant to move. Besides, the bed could just go screw itself, he didn't want to move, not at all.

However, someone groaned and insulted him and that prompted him to get up, albeit really slowly. Good lord, whatever he drank last night really did a number on him. He made his way over to the figure lying just a bit over by the staircase, expecting Prussia or Denmark, only to be met with America's sleeping countenance. Now that was peculiar - why would America join him in drinking after-

Then it all came back to him - the sweet saccharine smile of the alternate England and the slight grins of the alternate America most prominently. He looked up, scanning his surroundings - they weren't anywhere near a bed, instead surrounded by what seemed to be torture instruments. An iron maiden with its spikes shining with rust, a barrel of tar and another of feathers, an arrangement of knives, daggers and saws that varied wildly and in between. Something akin to a strangled cry rose up from the back of his throat; he forced it back down, barely containing his fear. In such a situation there was only composure left, and he would hang on to every last strand. 

Turning back to America (and hit by a dizzying sense of vertigo the quick and sudden movement brought about), Arthur dropped to his knees and began to urgently shake him. "America," he whispered, his voice unable to increase in volume, "America, wake up now. Wake up, you have to wake up..."

[Lord Arthur Kirkland]

Arthur had taken extra care when decorating his torture chamber. The walls were a lovely pastel pink and the ceiling matched. The floor was a fuzzy pastel blue carpet with a nice little yellow rug. Unfortunately, these brilliant design choices made the torture room rather difficult to clean. Arthur tried his best to clean it! However some of the blood (and other bodily fluids) stains just never seemed to come out! Well, at least the throw pillow for his spike-chair had seemed to avoid any stains. It was only a matter of time before one of his guests would go and dirty it up with their blood. How rude!

As for the torture instruments, they really did throw off the décor of the little guest room, but they were gifts from Ivan and Alfred, and Arthur didn't see the use in throwing them away if his guests got so much use out of them! Nevertheless, Arthur was so glad to see some worthy guests inhabiting his little guest room. Oh what a horrible host he was! He didn't let them finish their cake. Arthur was sure there'd be time for that.

He had to say, finding out that Alfred was so terribly jealous of Ivan was quite a bonus. Teasing the silly ex-colony of his would be perfect! And it was so convenient that Alfred was here, having the other man escort the guests to their room was brilliant! Oh Arthur almost wanted to run over and bring Fiddlesticks into the room to watch the fun!

"Hold on a moment, my dear chap. Fiddlesticks would simply hate to miss this show. I shall fetch him!" The cotton-candy colored man was only gone for a minute or so, returning with the unicorn skull. Despite the name, Fiddlesticks was quite the ominous thing. Arthur had spent many hours using the blood of guests as a sort of coat for Fiddlesticks, so the skull was coated in dried blood that was now flaking off.

Arthur peeled off a few flakes, showing off his dear friend Fiddlesticks, while speaking, "Oh these new guests came just in time. Fiddlesticks has been complaining about dry skin. He gets so nasty when his skin is too dry. As an apology, let's let him watch as we treat our guests." Arthur let out a laugh.

When the guests finally woke up, Arthur grabbed Alfred and dragged the other inside the room. Arthur was so impatient and bubbling with energy. He set Fiddlesticks down on a nearby table and welcomed his guests. "Lovely, lovely! It's been so long since I've had proper guests! I hope the décor is to your tastes, and I know you'll simply adore these little trinkets Ivan and Alfred bought me. Aren't they sweet?" Arthur picked up a dagger, toying with it.

"Now then, I'm going to count to three, and one of you is going to come over to me. Ready? 1..."

[Sponsored content]