*~{The Plague....Of MaDnEsS}~*

Some thought it to be brought upon by aliens. Others thought it was to be absurd, that aliens didn't exist; but truly, what other explanation was there? The ones who thought it was brought upon by aliens only thought that because it would somewhat sooth them to know who was bringing this to them. This plague. This plague of utter madness.

All around the world, people were getting "infected". One day, they would be perfectly normal. The next, their families, friends, and pure strangers would find them in a cycle of half-unconsciousness, half-madness. It was odd, and truly terrifying. One minute your loved one would be perfectly normal, the next they would be out cold. And when they woke up for only half of the day, they would start becoming "mad", "insane", whatever you'd like to call it.

At first, people weren't that worried about it other than the people's families and friends who knew someone who was infected. They weren't worried... until others were infected for so long, and with no known cure, the madness spread throughout their body, taking their brain, heart, soul, and finally, life. Victims would die with a horrifyingly twisted expression on their face. Often they would be laughing up to the second they died.

What was the cause of this? What could cure it? Scientists still are looking to this day. It seemed, from just pure observation, that there was an cerulean blue-ish substance that entered the victim's body by force. It was as if the substance was... alive. But surely that couldn't be true...? Right...? As for the cure, the scientists had tried practically everything. But nothing worked- in fact, it seemed as if it made the madness grew faster when they experimented with different cures.

The worst thing was, however, that the victim's symptoms of 'madness' were all unique. Some became violent and destructive. Some became extremely sorrowful and melancholic. Others became two-faced. And yet others were just in their own world, unable to comprehend everyone else around them. The only thing that was similar about the madness was their deaths. Sometimes there was laughing, sometimes there wasn't. But the words they spoke were the same.

"The madness", they would say, almost shaking- with laughter? With sorrow? With pain? It was unknown to the scientists. "It got me in the end! I lost...." And then, sometimes accompanied with a horrifying maniacal laugh, their heart lost it's ability to beat, and their body would shut down.

It was like the madness was controlling their every move. Like for the half a day they were unconscious, the victim and the madness were playing a game. The victim would try to escape the madness, find a way to come back to reality, before they went entirely mad. So far, there had been no reports of someone surviving the madness.

However, there had been one report of a person, on their last day before the madness consumed them, managed to say something somewhat sane. It spooked the doctors, and gave the family members who heard the man say it nightmares and trips to a local therapist for weeks. He said, suddenly, waking up out of his normal 12 hour unconsciousness, with a raspy, shaking voice, "H-HELP... ME... I-I CAN'T...ESCAPE-!!" Before the man could continue, he was suddenly pulled back into unconsciousness. It was as if he had never even said anything. When they heard his voice next, when he entered the 12 hour cycle he was awake, he was mad from the inside out; before he died in the following hour.

It was truly horrifying, this madness. No source, no cure. Only insanity. Quarantined victims. Frantic scientists. Panicked and terror-stricken family and friends. Death. This plague, that had somehow been spread all over the world, was truly the most frightening thing humanity had seen. Sure, they had all been through wars and invasions. But at least then, they had control of themselves. They'd escaped wars, they'd survived invasions. They were smart, in those situations. But this...was completely unknown. And having something be unknown was truly the most scariest thing of all.

(( OKAY, SO. If you need me to explain something, go ahead and ask me. You can basically either be a victim, a scientist, or one of the victim's friends/family members. Not everyone can go insane, guys, cause then, who would try to find the cure for them- either independently or with a group of scientists?

Oh, you can also have control of your Nyotalian self along with your regular self in this thread, I've decided. So maybe Fem!Romano, for instance, could be a friend of a victim, who finds the scientists extremely stupid so she decides to try and find out the cure for herself or where the plague came from. And then Romano could possibly be a victim, who is slowly being driven to insanity. Or Romano could be a scientist, studying victim's symptoms from their quarantined areas and performing tests on them to figure out the source of the plague and the cure.

And yeah. This fic I read a long time ago inspired me to make this... forget what it was called, but yeah. |D This is a biiit different then that fic but it has the same roots, I guess. I'm just curious as to how you guys take it. c: SO YEAH. I'LL STOP RAMBLING ON AND ON NOW. xD ))

The disease...or rather, could it be called an infection? Or perhaps a syndrome? No, it definitely wasn't a syndrome. This was much too real. The disease baffled many people, far and wide. People were dying, these strange deaths. The cause? Unknown. The effects? Couldn't be traced. Many scientists had tried. Some, however, were nearly able to be rehabilitated, before it took it's toll upon it's poor victim. They were sent to special doctors, psychiatrists, and psychologists.

Dr. Elizabeta Hedervary, a tall brunette of Hungarian descent. She had been recruited as one of the world's most elite doctor's to find out the cause, or the psychosis, of these deranged patients. She was to study habits and such. Try to link the puzzle pieces that just didn't seem to fit. Like, what triggered these things? Symptoms of any kind were practically invisible. This was a wicked illness.

"Ma'am. Your patient has arrived." said a blonde girl of petite build. Elizabeta was surprised these people had not been ordered to wear masks or anything. For all they knew, it could be a parasite that entered in through the respiratory system and entered into the brain, turning you mad. She walked, clipboard in hand, and nodded to the girl. "Thank you." she said, and proceeded down to the designated place. There, she knew a man awaited her. One with illness-driven lunacy, most likely.

Arthur Kirkland. One of many patients who had been "infected" with madness. The personification of England; it was a true loss. And his case was more important than regular civilians to get cured. Because if /he/ died from this madness.... The people of England would be at a severe loss, and all hope for them would be gone.

For now, though, the Brit was sleeping. He was in an un-consciousness state; not yet in the 12 hour period where he was conscious but mad. His lean, skinny-almost malnourished, body laid in a white cot; that was brought into the Hungarian's office. His chest rose up and down, his breathing steady for now. Arthur seemed as if in peace, for once in his life. That was a common symptom for people in the beginning stage of the plague of madness. It was truly odd, to be truthful.....

--
[Arthur's un-conscious state of mind: Enter ]
Arthur woke up, to a very familiar setting. Too familiar. Where was he...? He looked down, finding himself in clothes he hadn't worn in centuries. Had it all been a dream...? Had his whole life up until this point been a dream? It was peculiar, really. But it was so nice...

He saw a sight which truly was a shocking one, yet extremely comforting. A child America and child Canada, happily playing outside in the forest surrounding their cabin. Had it truly seemed to be that long since he had seen them? America laughed, holding onto his bunny, while Canada shyly smiled back at him.

It was too good to be true... Yet, Arthur wanted to believe it. It was a happy change. Maybe the revolution would never happen. Canada and America would never have parted from his side. There was to be only happy times; that's all he wanted in the end. He grabbed his thick, wool coat from the coat hanger in the big home, and headed outside. It was as if being here changed his personality from his cynical and hot-tempered one to a more level-headed and trusting one.

"Hello Alfred, hello Matthew!" He called out, to which two heads turned to greet him.

Alfred immediately ran up to him first, clinging to his coat with eagerness.

"Arthur! Arthur! Look what Mattie found!" He exclaimed, grinning widely.

The shyer of the two twins followed afterwards, holding up a fluffy caterpillar. "I-It's cute, eh~?"

Arthur nodded, smiling down at the two of them. "Very cute, lad. Where did you find it?"

Matthew was about to reply, but his big brother had to butt in.

"We-"

"We found it in that big ol' tree over there!"

"Yeah..."

It was so peaceful... This was a nice dream... Or, was it reality... Which one was it? He couldn't tell. Well, when he woke up from this dream, he would know. If he didn't wake up, it must be reality... Arthur suddenly fell over, blacking out....
[Arthur's unconscious state of mind: Exit]

The 12 hour period of unconsciousness was over.

Arthur's eyes opened, glazed with tears. He started to laugh, though. Laughing, while tears where threatening to spill out of his cheeks. After a few hours of this, a single tear escaped his eyes. He frowned, a rather innocent look coming upon him.

"Reality is such a hard thing to realize."

His lips once again twisted upwards, into a more twisted grin. He began to laugh again, this time more emotionless. It was an odd laugh, with a rather depressing feel to it.

The eleventh hour of the twelve hour cycle of madness had come. One more hour until he would be plunged into a deep sleep of unconsciousness...

(( I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF WHAT I WROTE MADE SENSE BUT I HAVE A PLOT IDEA FOR THIS SO... ))

Elizabeta walked into her office. She had not been informed of what her patient's name or age or even gender was. Only what he had been diagnosed with. Arthur. She knew this person. Ever since she had left the line of government work to become a doctor in her country, she had stopped attending meetings. This was an old face she would never forget, though.

"Arthur...Kirkland. Mr. Kirkland..." she corrected herself. It was quite obvious he was well past his unconcious period, and was into the completely mentally insane part instead. There was a button on her cellphone that if pressed, immediately told the security at the front desk something was terribly wrong. She stepped forward cautiously.

He seemed to not notice her...at first. As she took her final step towards him, he lunged out and grabbed her hand.His grin faded. His expression took one mimicking a small child's. Innocent, almost. Big, emerald colored eyes looking up into hers.

"Miss, did you know... I'm hungry. Hungary. Hungry." He starts to laugh maniacally, as if he had told the most funniest joke ever.

"Your name is Hungary, and I said I'm hungry!" He breaks out into another laughter fit, before falling unconscious. His hands released her own, and his grin faded into a look of peace as he fell back into the pillow.

(( I'VE BEEN WAITING SO LONG TO USE THAT IN A RP LIKE YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW. ))

Had it been the old days, she would have broken out her frying pan and gave him a good one-two to the back of the head. But this time, this was nothing to joke around about. The maniacal laughter scared her, mostly because she was not seeing it on some stranger, but someone she had known quite well, and had even sided with at one point in time.

"Yes...very amusing. Mr. Kirkland." she sighed to herself as he passed out. It felt stiff, calling him that. Usually it was a friendly 'England'...or the occasional 'Arthur'. She remembered clearly that America used to call him Artie...and how that had annoyed the British man so. She scribbled a few things on her chart.




[[I think every on the forum has... XDD]]

Spain was one of the first of the many doctors or scientists out there searching for a cure for this mad disease, but like all others, he had failed at each attempt. He had seen several of his patients die before him, each showing how much of a failure his work had been. As time passed, he began to grow more and more hopeful He had shortened his sleeping schedule so he could spend more time researching, with no avail. And each time he was given a new patient, he forced to start fresh. He has experimented with so many possible solutions. He has attempted to surgically remove what might have been the cause of the infection, various liquid solutions injected into the patient's bloodstream, blood transplant, organ transplant, even a simple sit-and-talk with the patient during his/her conscious state. He has considered planting another disease onto one of his patients, since he has heard news of AIDS curing cancer, but he wasn't too sure of trying something like that quite yet.

Then someone knocked on his door with his most important patient yet. A nation: Armenia. She looked as if she was about to drift into an unconscious state, or maybe she just awoke. It was either of the two, he felt certain of that. The Spaniard reached over and pulled some teal latex gloves out, and slipped them on. He slipped a face mask around his mouth and nose, and put on some protective goggles. He has to stay on the safe side; though he might have failed several times he's gotten farther than most in his search. If he were to catch the disease now, all his work would be put to waste.

He walked over to the brunette, and gently picked up her hand, running his thumb over her fingers. "Hola, señorita. I'm going to help you get better. Do you think you can co-operate with me while I work with you? It's really important that you do." He said in a soft, cheerful tone, a tone you would use to encourage a sad child.

It was like she was on Cloud Nine, floating high above everything and everyone she passed. They gray pavement beneath her twisted and transformed into a purple haze. She had halted, reaching down to touch it, to graze it with her fingers. She had been so enthralled in the fascination of it all that she hadn't even noticed the blaring horns and bright lights approaching her. Someone had shoved her out of the way, only resulting in her stumbling, falling and her head colliding with the sidewalk. Her eyes had fluttered open slowly, a strange blue liquid pooling onto the concrete. Or was that red? Was it blood? She coughed violently, her nails scraping at the concrete, her brow beading sweat and her vision darting around uncontrollably. What was wrong with her? The people that leaned down to her eye level twisted in form, and she leaped back in fright as one grew unimaginably long fangs. Another morphed until both its legs were too large for its body, the skin turning and eerie purple. She scrambled back as they got closer. And closer. And closer.

And then she screamed, and all went black.

When she awoke her vision was still hazy, but the strange colors and people had disappeared. Instead a group of.....were those doctors? They had white coats, masks, goggles.......Was it because of her? What had she done wrong? Her vision rolled in her head as she fell forward, though thankfully one of the doctors had already caught her. He shook his head. "This one's unstable. She needs immediate treatment or she won't make it." Another shook his head. "What do you presume we do with her then?" The other furrowed his brows, nodding to himself. "Dr. Carriedo should be open now. We'll put her under his treatment." With that they continued hauling her down a hall. Her head snapped to the side when she heard screams as a man wrenched himself from some guards, rushing to a woman's side. Her eyes widened in horror as she passed the woman. Blood was seeping from every orifice in her face, and from her eyes.

Is that what was happening to her?

She snapped back to attention as the doctor holding her arm stopped at a door, rapping it with his knuckles. The door open to reveal....was that a man? His coat was green, his hair a flaming purple that moved with the breez-.....wait. There was no breeze in here. She shook her head violently, her vision correcting itself finally. There before her was a man, tanned skin she could tell, but that was it. His mouth, nose and eyes were shielded from her view. Horror raced through her. Was she contagious? Was her disease deadly? Her mind eased a bit as he took her hand in his, and she almost found his comfort heart-warming.

Almost.

She nodded her head. "I......What's wrong with me, doctor? Am I......a danger to anyone?" The other doctors soon left them, closing the door firmly, a click resounding that she assumed was a lock.


(( I'll add in Zakar a bit later. Hehee. ))