2p!Hetalia: The Cruel World: Prologue

The year is 2020. Earth? In chaos. America has gone mad with power and corruption, only to have dark secrets of the past spill out. The Soviet Union still stands strongly, but keeps to itself as its members don't want to interfere with the other meddling nations. Germany was never the same since World War 2 ended, and the Berlin Wall is both tall and sturdy in his mind and reality. England has kidnapped Sealand, just as Spain kidnapped Southern Italy, known to many as Romano. The only sane one here seems to be me. And who am I, you ask? I'm Italy, one of the European world powers. As you seem confused about this whole scenario, let me explain it to you:
It all started back in the 1600's. England, after another makeout session of many with France, had stumbled upon a lonely and frightened child in the depths of a dark, deep cave.
"You're lucky that I found you, bloody bastard," he said as he grabbed the child and put him over his shoulder. "I'm in need of some more control at the moment, and a little prick like you should do just the thing."
The tiny nation nodded and stared at the now distant cave. A coyote was killing a rabbit outside it, causing him to shudder as he held onto England tighter. Soon, they were back at his place, and his stomach began to growl.
"Damn wanker, now I've gotta cook," grumbled the British man. "Hold on a second, America."
America nodded thoughtfully once again, surprised that he now had a name. His attention soon turned to the delicious aroma growing in the atmosphere, causing his hunger to exaggerate itself. When the meal was finally prepared, it was set at a table, and he scurried over and sat down. He gave England a nod of appreciation and dug in, wolfing down the bangers and hash he has made. It was by far the most amazing thing he had ever tasted, so great that he didn't even taste the poison that England had sneaked into it. At the end of the meal, he began to feel dizzy and sick.
"I'm sorry sir, I may have eaten too fast," America mumbled as he clutched his stomach in pain.
"No, you didn't," the Britain replied confidently. "I just added a special ingredient to make sure you don't run away."
The young nation stared back into his eyes glazed with fear, only to faint soon after he was responded to with a stern expression. England's face churned into a grin as he laughed to himself. "You will never have to leave, and I will always have an underling to do my bidding. Damn you bloody handsome devil, you've finally done it." He peeled America from the floor and began making some medicine to keep the poison from killing him, but also to keep him from being energetic enough to run away. Each meal ended this way each day, and began to intensify as the young nation's immune system would adapt to the horrid chemicals.
Fear of the Britain soon turned into depression, only to be warped into a psychotic anger that can't be understood or control. After many decades, he decided he had enough. America ran to the forest, gathered some wood, and used a saw to whittle it down into a large club. His breathing was raspy and labored, but very forced and full of hatred. With a final decision, he quickly covered the wooden club with steel nails he had found. Anything he hit would either be punctured or knocked out from this sucker. Perfect.
By this time now, the teenage nation was ready to stand up to his superior and get his freedom. He dragged the club carefully behind him as he walked in England's house.
"I'm done with your bullshit," America stated. The Britain was cooking, as usual, and was clearly surprised. "I deserve to be free, not to be contained by some tea drinking asshole like yourself. I demand to be released."
"There's no way in hell a bloody git like you could ever be truly free," he had calmly explained. "You see, you were created to serve countries, not become one. Now stop this bloody nonsense at once, or I'll double the dosage."
"My ass," he replied, angrily swinging the club. It hit England in the ribs, breaking several as well as leaving deep puncture wounds in his torso. He set the club down and stared down upon the bleeding man.
"Not so fun to be the one dying now, is it?" America smirked with a twisted grin. "Tell Satan I said hi once you reach hell."
With those words, he turned tail and walked out on England. France had found him in his house dying shortly after, and quickly saved his lover. As for America, he quietly got his own land and began to grow a booming economy, excluding any English merchants of course. This was kept up for a long time and was pretty stable until the world wars happened. After the first one, everyone was shaken, but America's anger was positioned towards England once again. It was only expanded after World War 2, and everyone was on the edge of their seats as tension grew between the rival countries. Of course, now strings have finally snapped and a full scale war has broken out. This is World War 3 now, and I've been trying to figure out how the hell to stop it once and for all.
Despite being friendly, I've always had trouble gaining allies, so I took a different approach. Japan has isolated himself for centuries, and I decided that it was time for him to come out of hiding. His warrior skills were unique and unmatched, unlike the other countries. On my way to find his camp through the woods, I came across a wooden crate. The word "Leberwurst [liverwurst]" was across the top, and I slowly opened the lid, worried if this was going to be a trap. How wrong I was. Inside, a shaking German young adult looked up at me with watery eyes and blood pouring out of a cut on his arm. "Please save me," he whispered as he sank back into the box. I hauled it over my shoulder and quickly ran to find Japan, hoping there was enough time to help him.