Hetalians: Chapter 1

(Quicksilver, don't care.) Oh, readers, anything in italics isn't English.
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I sat up. Where was I? I looked around. The word seemed to have turned to something I didn't know. I was in a blue-carpeted room. There was a large, round baby-blue table. There were multiple random pictures on the walls. I saw someone on the other end of the room. He had slick white-blonde hair, pale skin, and a gruff look on his face. He wore a green military uniform with multiple red or gold badges. He had military boots, two old-fashioned guns strapped over his back, and a german flag on the back of his uniform. He was examining a paper. He looked pretty intimidating, but I needed to know where I was. "Excuse me, sir?"
He whipped his head around suddenly and his sky-blue eyes darted around the room.
"Wvo is zat?!" He barked.
I stood up gingerly. "Um, me."
"Wvo are you?" He asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
"Uh, Claire Nightdarer."
"Serbia? I have never heard of voo."
OK then, my name is Serbia. This is awkward. This guy must have terrible hearing. To think I was a country....! "Uh, yeah, Serbia. What's your name? I wouldn't have expected for you to hear about me, anyway." He looked taken aback. "You are vot zeffended by zat? Em, voo do not zow who I am?"
"Why would I be offended? Should I know who you are? And why is that german accent so thick?"
Now he looked offended. "...I knew voo vere like America. I am Germany, now have voo hard of my zame?"
"Sorry, no. What do y' mean, like America? I live in America, thanks."
I ball started ringing. "Oh, dammit! Voo! Take vour seat, and STAY! The countries zare coming een!" Countries?
A guy with roughly done brown hair, darker blue eyes, very tan skin, a maniacal grin, no-rimmed glasses, and an aviator jacket walked in first. A bottle of soda was in his hand. He plopped onto a seat, still alert. "Please tell moi Prussia's not coming."
"My voldar bruuther, he comes. Sorry, America." Germany gruffly apologized.
Then another person walked into the room. He had thick golden hair, very thick black eyebrows, emerald eyes, and fair skin. He looked serious, and had a green sport coat on, black dress pants, and dress shoes. He looked uncomfortable with so few people in the room. Then he saw me.
"Who is that?" He had an british accent.
"Serbia, apparently. Have I verd of zer? Nein."
I heard the door slowly creak open. A man in a white-and-gold prince's uniform with a black-bladed Katana quietly stepped in. He had old-style Japanese hair, hazel-brown eyes, and simple features. I do admit he was kind of cute.
"Two more..." Said Germany.
'America' looked shocked. "Only two more, dude? Serious? WOW, small meet."
The serious one chortled. "Never be surprised, America. It shall lead to your untimely DOOM."
"Uh, K, England. Please stop scaring me. So I expect it'll be Italy and.... Prussia?"
"Vorrect. I hope that dolt does not ving zat pasta again."
The door burst open. "I BROUGHT PASTA!" They all groaned. (Note: I'm getting pretty freaking bored of descriptions, just look at the dumb pics. Italy is the happy one, Prussia is the hot one... yea, I think Prussia is incredibly hot)
A very adorably anime-looking boy skipped in, a steaming pot of pasta in his hands.
"The awesome struts in now." I looked towards the door after taking in delicious scents of pasta, and, my heart stopped.
"He looks scary!" Italy whimpered.
Scary? No, not scary. Handsome. In a demented sort of way. Red eyes like rubies, glistening silver-white hair, pale skin, prince's uniform, cool-looking sword, and a wickedly cute smile.
Yes, yes, you are awesome.
Prussia looked at me, surprised. I tucked a lock of auburn hair behind my ear. He tucked the black sword into a gold-and-silver decorated scabbard. "You, don't look, Serbian. Prussia, you're pleased to meet the awesome me. I'm Germany's older brother," Then he bent down and whispered, "He's an idiot. Don't listen to my older brother."
I nodded vigorously. "Definitely. Always."
Prussia plopped onto a chair and started cleaning his sword. America giggled and tipped his his orange soda over Prussia's head. I swiftly ran over and batted the bottle up to America's face. He looked like an orange-coated aviator. He snarled and pointed his finger at me.
"I WANT HER GONE, AND A CHEESEBURGER!" He kicked the doors opened, walked through, and slammed it shut. England dropped his tea onto his lap. His cup shattered against the carpet.
"Voo you know vou much vat carpet vas?!" Germany yelled.
England sat up, squeezed some of the tea from his uniform, slightly bowed his head, and left after saying, "Disgusting meeting."
Italy looked up from his pasta. He had a single dot of red on his lip. He shrugged. "My amici have-a left. Arrivederci, pasta." He skipped out of the door.
Germany glared at me, slowly pushed away his chair from the table and stood up. He tucked in his chair. "Nun, Sie Schwein-Saugen Idiot, Sie vollständig die Chance auf eine friedliche, ruhige Sitzung beseitigt haben! Ich muss gehen, auf der langen Hand sowieso. Auf Wiedersehen!"
"I- I don't speak German."
Germany glared more. "Es ist mir egal!" He stormed out of the meeting room.
Prussia gave me a stony look. "Danke schon. In return for that, i'll translate. This is what he said: Well, you pig sucking moron, you have completely eliminated the chance of a peaceful, calm meeting! I need to go, on the long arm, anyway. Good BYE! Doesn't sound at it's kindest, oder?"
Italy came back in and took the pasta. "Fratello wants pasta! Silly fratello."
I nodded at Italy. He waved and said, "Asta la pasta!"