Hello, fellow readers. As you may have noticed, (if you had gone to my user page, that is), is that this my first Hetalia fan fiction. (It's actually very exciting for me!) And, as this IS my very first Hetalia story, I will do my best to impress you all.
Just a few things to let you in on:
1) I own nothing. (Not even Prussia and his awesomeness.)
2) I will be using sentences and words from different languages; translations will be listed at the bottom.
3) You are very much allowed (and welcome) to give suggestions for the story. (I'd appreciate it; the more plot ideas, the better.)
4) Human names are used, however their country will be stated for those of you who might get confused.
and 5) This story contains, wait for it...YAOI. Yeah, it does. Don't start crying now, because there are straight pairings too.
And now, dear readers, on with the show!
(Also, if I happen to spell any of the human names wrong, please tell me, and I will fix it immediately!...Well, in the next chapter, of course...lol.)
(One)
"Das ist lächerlich."
Ludwig Beilshmidt shoved a fresh load of bullets into the revolver in his hands, cursing silently to himself. This situation shouldn't have been happening; right now, he should be at home, waking up to the ever-present smell of pasta, (as the young Italian boy that he usually spent most of his time with had decided to live with him for some strange reason), and then later in the day he would have begun training with his two allies, little Feliciano "Veneciano" Vargas, and the always-quiet Kiku Honda.
Instead, he found himself loading his cherished revoler, (one that, despite being hidden beneath his pillow every night, had not been fired in many years), while his brother barricated the door they had just recently rushed through to get to cover.
From what, you may be asking?
Well...
"Westen, quit complaining for a second." His elder brother, Gilbert Beilshmidt, hissed through clenched teeth. Bangs came from the other side of the door, and the attacker's nails dug into the wood, peeling strands off of the surface. Cursing loudly, Gilbert kicked the door open and let loose. Bodies quickly began to pile up as Gilbert quickly emptied his shotgun. Quickly yanking the two pistols clipped to his waist, the Prussian opened fire, bullets burying themselves in the foreheads of numerous mangled-looking individuals. Gilbert continued to pull the triggers of both handguns, fearing that if he stopped, he and his brother would be goners.
Clicking was all that emitted from the pistols.
"Gott verdammt!" Gilbert hissed, fumbling for the spare ammo at his side. Just when the Prussian had finally managed to retrieve the extra bullets, the small cartridges were knocked from his hand. Time seemed to slow to a crawl; Gilbert found himself flying backwards as rotted appendages reached out towards him. His back collided with the ground, the air quickly knocked out of him. Desperately, he reached for his shotgun, which he had so carelessly tossed aside in his haste to grab the spare handguns; his actions were halted by decaying hands latching onto his arm, trying their hardest to hoist up their victim and rip him to pieces.
"Mein Gott," Gilbert thought miserably. "I'm going to die."
He found his body being dragged upwards, and his eyes locked onto those of the dead; empty sockets, with a strangely bright orange glow illuminating the blank spaces. Jaws opened, revealing rotten teeth that dripped acidic saliva. Gilbert felt his body go numb, as he let the truth of the situation sink in. He was going to die; and then, West would too.
"What an awful way to go."
His thoughts were halted by the sound of gunfire.
Suddenly, he was jerked upright, forced to stand. He stared up at his brother, stunned, as the younger of the two took out nearly twenty of the monsters that swayed in place before them. Quickly, the Prussian regained himself, snatching up his shotgun off the floor and loading it with slightly trembling fingers; not that he would ever admit he was trembling.
"Hurry, Bruder. Follow me!"
Ludwig grabbed hold of his brother's wrist, dragging him down the long corridor. They quickly zig-zagged through familiar hallways and doorways, pain striking at their hearts with every memorable object they passed. This was their home, their birthplace, and the place where all of their memories resided.
And now, they had to leave it all behind.
"Not everything." Gilbert thought quickly, catching sight of a silver cage that sat atop one of the table they were heading towards. Inside, a small, fluffy bird cheeped pitifully. The Prussian snatched the cage up into his arms the second he neared the table, holding it protectively close to his chest. The yellow chick inside twittered happily at the sight of its master.
Despite their running speed, the undead were closing in on them, screeching and groaning loudly. Gilbert's shotgun was once again emptied as he aimed behind them and opened fire once more. Finding himself low on ammunition, Gilbert strapped the shotgun onto his back and continued to rush down the maze of corridors that filled his home, never once loosening his grip on the birdcage; he would not afford to lose any members of his family, and that included even the smallest ones. His younger brother jerked him to the side and, with hope filling his every vein, Gilbert could see the front entrance. He looked toward his younger brother, who nodded quickly at him. Both stopped quickly, thrust out their legs, and kicked the front door open.
Sunlight poured in through the open doorway, blinding the brothers. They quickly shielded their eyes, rushing forward out onto the yard. They jumped over numerous dead bodies that littered the walkway; the remnants of those who had not been so fortunate to escape the area. What made that fact even more horrible was that, very soon, they would rise again, but as monstrosities.
Gilbert swallowed the bile rising in his throat and clutched onto the silver cage in his arms. Ludwig regarded him with a somber expression. He quickly patted his shoulder, before trying to quicken his pace; the undead were closing in.
"Westen, we're going to die! We can't run much longer!"
Ludwig grit his teeth, looking around him hurriedly. He was right, there was nothing left they could use to get away any faster; even worse, they were deadly low on ammunition.
What to do... Ludwig began to sweat profusely. What to do-...
The sound of screeching tires suddenly filled the air. They stopped dead in their tracks, mouths agape, as a large army Jeep swerved around the bend. The minigun attached to the back spun quickly, bullets pelting the sea of decaying fiends that had been running towards the German brothers. The truck squealed to a halt in front of them, the side door thrown open by the driver.
Ludwig and Gilbert released a sigh of relief.
"Mein Gott, Roderich. You have the greatest timing."
The Austrian gave them a small nod, eyeing the woman shoving another chain of bullets into the minigun. She turned to look at the others, smiling sweetly; (though, she did scowl when she set her eyes upon the Prussian brother.)
"It's been a while, you two."
"That it has, Elizabeta."
Gilbert quickly crawled into the back, clutching onto the birdcage tightly. Shivers were racking his body, and he looked near tears; he was absolutely terrified. Ludwig climbed into the front seat, giving his brother a worried glance. Gilbert quickly shook it off, rubbing at his eyes.
Nein. He chided himself internally. No crying. You're the older brother; you have to stay strong for Westen.
Roderich threw the truck into drive, and slammed his foot down on the gas. Ludwig clutched onto the door tightly, back being thrown into the seat roughly. Elizabeta jolted forward, body crashing into the large gun. She swore in her native tounge, and Roderich heaved a sigh.
"Elizabeta, dear, a young lady such as yourself-."
"Fuck that, Mr. Roderich."
Gilbert whistled at her vocabulary, while simultaneously smothering a laugh when taking note of the Austrian's expression.
"My, such language, dear. Ah well, we are in grave times, I suppose."
The Prussian chuckled softly, and Elizabeta went red in the face. She then realized, with a sad sigh, that this was going to be a long drive.
A/N: And that is the first chapter, my dears! Reviews are appreciated. (I hope everything is spelled correctly; for some reason, Spellcheck is no longer on the typing program. This bothers me to no end, but I have no choice but to assume that everything is spelled correctly. I'm much too lazy to go through every paragraph and check the spelling regularly...ugh, too much to check.)
As I said before, leave me plot ideas, I appreciate that and welcome it 100%!
(Also, all you US/UK and FrUK fans, my apologies in advance. I have no idea who I support more, since I never got into either pairing. I'll try and please you both, my friends!)
Translations:
Das ist lächerlich. - This is ridiculous.
Westen - West
Gott verdammt! - God damnit!
Mein Gott - My God
Nein - No
