Breaking down A hetalia 9/11 fanfiction

And it was no more

England's Pov

The ground rattled horribly as the second tower came down. Whoever had wished this upon America was a beast. The ground finally stopped shaking, and America tumbled to the ground. An injured Canada, started to shake him, screaming for him to wake up.
"Please Alfred! Wake up! Please!" Matthews desperate cries echoed on the once busy streets of Manhattan. Everything seemed dead, and for a long dreaded moment England feared America was. Then dust covered people began to emerge from shops and apartments. And America emerged from his comatose. He began to cough and was horribly pale. What seemed like forever ago, America had been joyful and cheery. Now his gaze was dead and sad. More emergency vehicles and workers began to arrive, taking the injured to hospitals out of Manhattan, away from the dust filled air. More rescue workers were arriving by the minute, and the silence was filled by wailing sirens. Anyone who could pulled little by little at the wreckage that could be hiding survivors. Tears were shed. And so was blood and sweat. No one stopped though. Minute after minute, England worked beside other Americans and the other countries began to appear, having heard about the devastating news. They thought it was done, but at 5 o clock the 7th World Trade Center came down killing whoever was inside. More dust and debris flew down. All of the World trade centers were destroyed with two little planes.
England had stopped where he was working with France to stare where the World trade centers once were. France put a hand on his shoulder.
"Whoever did this. Is going to pay." England told France. "I promise that much."