The hair on America's arms rose a little with each shiver, goosebumps trailing down his legs. He squinted a little in the wind to prevent the icy breeze from drying his eyes. Puffs of warm air escaped with each exhale; America found it strangely coincidental.

He certainly didn't need to, but some straggling part of him had made him leave in the dead of the night so as not to arouse suspicion from either Russia or Alaska. Adamant to believe anything else than what he feared to have happened to him, he traveled on foot without the noisy rumble of the car all the way to the nearest town from the isolated cabin-home. His hands felt icily numb despite his gloves being pulled tightly over every inch of skin. He was sure if he walked any further, his feet would soon become ice itself, and he'd have to wait for weeks so the unnatural process of his flesh and bone regrowing could replace his numbing toes. Still, rather than barreling through the snow with his usual relentless energy, he continued to lurk in the shadows of the path by the street, a dull ache beginning to pang up his legs with each step on the frozen ground.

Though his face almost felt as if it were burning against the freezing wind, hands buried in his coat pockets for warmth, and toes curled to maintain what little warmth remained in his boots, all he felt was an empty echo in his soul. His body seemed to simply be a useless, yet indestructible and expendable, husk where no feeling could quite penetrate it to revive his core. Gone were the sunny memories of wild games of tag with his states; no longer could he smile as he imagined snippets of fairy tales with happy endings all while watching his young states' eyes droop, shoulders sagging against each other.

No, those days were gone. In their place, he saw Massachusetts screaming, clutching his hair as England's soldiers shot into a crowd of people in Boston. Texas breaking down between him and Mexico. States grasping at each other's throats for two different versions of America. Countries griping at him, demanding he leave them alone, only to beg for his help soon after. Hawaii's motionless form, slack-jawed, her glassy eyes staring at the ceiling, hardly holding onto life after an unexpected attack. A cool metal pipe pressed against his jaw, calculated violet eyes peering at him from under platinum blonde eyelashes. A twisted relationship, one of prying fingers and bared teeth, crumbling at rapid speeds.

As he approached the town, seeing its streetlights flickering in the dead of the night, a car slowly drove out. As it got closer, Alfred's arms outstretched, waving down the car until it slowed to a halt. The window rolled down, an old man peeking out to look up at Alfred. The latter could see the wrinkles of time on the man's face, the way the skin around his tired brown eyes crinkled a little. His grey hair almost looked like tufts of cotton candy.

"Where are you heading, son?" the man asked.

Alfred didn't bother to respond. Perplexed, the man felt a sense of dread as his frail heart hammered in his chest. He didn't have the time to react, frozen in his seat much like the ice to the ground, as an old, yet still functional, pistol lifted into view. The last image he could think of was his year-old grandchild falling asleep in his arms moments before he had gotten into his car to return home. The man slumped over, eyes still wide and glossy with unshed tears.

Alfred knew he shouldn't be smiling.

With the moonlight filtering through the leaves above him, whispering in his ears as the wind shook them, he suddenly felt the spark of energy and life that he had been searching for. He knew better. It wasn't the same; he should've been able to return to the cabin and press into the surprising warmth of Ivan's grasp. If he had been fixed, he could've returned to his newest daughter, perhaps even check in on his other states to ask how they were. He didn't know what was wrong with him or what had caused this sudden lackluster feeling that shook him to his core more than the freezing temperatures could, but he knew he had found a temporary solution.

Picking up his pace, he felt himself grin broadly as he hauled the man's body out of the car. He didn't regret the two permanent scars still staining the once clear skin upon Japan's back, nor did he care to mourn over wars he had fought in that only ended up in breaking himself and his people down. His blue eyes were suddenly bright and excited, no longer blank and confused. America let loose a raucous bark of laughter into the cold night under the silvery glow of the moon. He figured to feel this way was better than to feel nothing at all.

Senseless murder, huh?

"No, no," Alfred mused to himself all while patting the man down for any loose items that may be of use, "I got a car out of it. Should get me where I need to go."

He was pleased to see the car had a full tank of gas and a cooler in the back that still had some sodas and other food items in it. Alfred's ear-to-ear grin twisted into a frown as he observed his pistol.

"Looks like I need an upgrade, huh?" he chuckled to himself.

He slid into the driver's seat and revved the engine once. Deeming the car acceptable, he eased his foot onto the gas and began heading to his next destination—Texas.

While Alfred kept fidgeting in his seat, eager to reach his better stash of weaponry and see the blood splattered across every surface, Allen was pondering his own lack of bloodlust. Allen had planned to keep Lutz shut up with an occasional gunshot in the leg, but he no longer felt like watching the life drain from Lutz' eyes. They weren't the only ones being affected. An ocean away, Ludwig shot up from his sleep screaming for Italy. The screaming set off Italy himself as he screeched, too, scrambling up to Germany's room for protection.

"Mio dio! W-What is-a going on?" Italy screamed in terror.

Looking up at Germany, he felt the hair on his arms rise as he watched tears drip down his Luddy's face. Germany wordlessly embraced Italy, sobbing in fear.

Still somewhere unbeknownst to the unaware masses, a mirror shimmered in a dark, dusty closet, and the one it belonged to was trapped on the other side.