First, there was pain. Before Shelby realized she was awake, there was a throbbing pain in her skull- the upper left part in the back, to be more exact. The pain was sharp there, but her entire cranium also pounded with a headache. She shifted but found that she couldn't move much. Her muscles were stiff and her hands seemed to be latched to something behind her, something solid that was against her back. Her eyes fluttered open to meet a dark room, before she closed them and let out a grunt of agony.

"Alfred?" Shelby muttered, trying to stand up, but whatever she was latched to was keeping her anchored in her spot.

Then the thing, or rather, person, she was anchored to moved. "Ugh... bon dieu... why is my head pounding? Where am I? Arthur?" The accented voice spoke, and Shelby felt her jaw snap closed instantly.

France.

"Who- who is this?" France tried to glance back at the person he was tied to. "China, is that you?" Shelby kept her mouth shut. She did not want to speak to Francis. "Mon amie, are you awake? Where are we?"

"Francis?" Another male voice asked. It was accented as well, but instead of a French accent, it was British one. Shelby felt her stomach tie itself in knots. She couldn't have this bad of luck. She glanced over to the source of the voice- a scrawny-looking man with dark, bushy eyebrows, striking green eyes, and a blonde mop of hair. He was staring right at them. "France, who is the person tied to your wrists?"

"Does it look like I can see them, England? I have no clue!" France spat in irritation. "Why don't you tell me who it is?"

"I can't! I don't recognize her!" England snapped defensively. He tried to move toward them, but he had his hands tied to someone else as well.

Instantly, Shelby recognized the person's face. "Dreamz?" She chimed.

"Dreamz?" Francis echoed in confusion. "Isn't that-"

"New South Wales." England said through gritted teeth, glaring at the ground. "Of all the bloody luck in the world."

"Shut it, you git." Dreamz snapped, sounding much like an angrier version of Jett. They glanced over, spotting France and Shelby. "Shelby!" They exclaimed in relief, glad to see the face of someone they liked.

"Shelby? As in, Michigan Shelby?" France asked in agony. "You are joking me."

"This is the state you were telling me about?" England ventured, examining Shelby closely, much to her displeasure.

"Yes, the lunatic." France answered.

"Oh, I'm the lunatic, huh, Mr. 'I can just walk in unannounced and talk shit about Detroit'? You think that flies in my town?"

"You'll mind how you address him, Michigan. You're a state governed a nation; France is a sovereign nation." England hissed.

"Does it look like I give a damn? Dreamz, do you see any damns around here for me to give?" Shelby inquired.

Dreamz shook their head. "No, Shelbs. I don't see any damns for you to give. I guess you're fresh out them."

"Oh, don't encourage her, New South Wales. You should watch your tongue as well." Arthur scolded.

"And you should kiss my ass." Dreamz stated.

"WELL I NEVER-"

"Can you shut up, over there, red coat? I already have a headache." Shelby grumbled.

"Red coat? Ha, you were not even around to know him during the Revolutionary War." France chuckled condescendingly.

Shelby smiled. "Does anyone here remember the name Fort Detroit? Founded by a French man by the name of Antoine de la Mothe Cadillac and a drove of French Canadians?"

"... You-" Shelby cut France off before he could continue.

"I was settled around 1620 as part of New France. I may not have been a state until 1837, but I've been around for much longer than you'd like to imagine, Herr Frankreich."

"Why are you speaking bloody German?" England asked in irritation.

Shelby smirked. After France had paid an unannounced visit to America's house, she had done intensive research on Michigan's history since England and France were suspicious that some of the countries had been hanging around humans. As for speaking German, she still remembered a bit from middle school. "I sure am. Michigan had a large influx of German and Dutch immigrants in the 1850s, so I'm familiar with the language. We have an awesome variety of European heritage in Michigan; lots of Scandinavian, Irish, Italian, and Polish people. I also have lots of Arab ethnicities and African American migrants from the south. Would you like to know more, eyebrows? Because I'M A DAMN OPEN BOOK!" Shelby rambled on, her skin becoming flushed with anger.

"Wait, so you're a part of Canada?" Dreamz smiled.

"I most certainly am not." Shelby stated defiantly.

"But you said Michigan was part of New France." Dreamz pointed out.

"Emphasis on was, Dreamz. Michigan is part of the US." Shelby huffed.

"... So, you're basically Canadian."

"No, that is not at all what I said!"

"Wait until Matthew hears this! It's like you're his missing child or something." Dreamz laughed.

"I AM NOT CANADIAN!"

"Could you not shout in my ear, Shelby? It is making my head pound only further." France hissed.

"That is probably due to some sort of trauma, Francis. It seems that everyone in this room has a wound of some sort of their head, implying that we were struck and dragged here. The question remains of who did this and what the motive of doing so was." Arthur explained. "Dreamz, do you have any enemies who might have it out for you?"

"Only you." Dreamz smiled with venom in their voice.

"Michigan?"

"Ohio." Shelby growled.

"Intranational rivalries will get us no where- it's not possible for a mere US state to capture two countries like this." England stated.

Shelby eyed him. "You have a superiority complex over everything American, don't you bud?"

England gasped. "I most certainly do not!"

"He most certainly does." Dreamz countered.

"Please, God," France whispered, his eyes squeezed shut. "Just put me out of my misery."