A/N: So this fic here is based around the fanon color police thing. Um. Yeah. Have fun with this.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
Fieldwork: Black
Ludwig was sure working with his older brother was going to kill him someday. Probably today.
Presently, they were being held at gunpoint by a small group of rather angry mob members in the back room of a restaurant.
"Didya really think ya could just barge in on our meetin' like that?" The highest ranking member in the room sneered at them. "Didn't nobody warn ya coppers that ya ain't supposed to mess with us?"
All they had been told to do was to bug the room. Naturally, Gilbert thought the assignment was boring and "not worthy of his awesome," and he had decided to spice it up a little. His partner's "new and improved" plan (read: far more dangerous) consisted of barging in on the gathering, pointing a gun at the criminals, and screaming at them to put their hands up. As one could imagine, this did not go over well at all, especially considering that the criminals were armed and outnumbered them five to two.
Well, the events had played out as could be expected, and Ludwig was now a little more than positive that he was going to die from a bullet through the skull.
"That just ain't acceptable." The man shook his head. "Where are ya manners? Ya should at least knock, then we coulda just shot ya down at the door rather than cause all o' this commotion."
"Right!" Gilbert sounded... almost cheerful?
Oh, no. His brother didn't think his ego could deflect bullets, did he?
"But," He continued, "will this commotion be as big as the one when all your little minions turn on you for taking more than your share?"
Silence. Then, "What the hell is he talkin' 'bout?"
Heads turned towards their leader, who was slowly backing towards the door. "That ain't true, he's just makin' it up so ya have it out for me."
The egoistical man grinned. "You say that, but how long do you think you'll last once they find the safe?"
"Th-the safe?"
"The one you've hidden all the money in, of course!" He gestured rather jovially at a stack of crates. "Right under that pile of boxes!"
What the man was saying was suspicious, but seeing as their boss' reaction wasn't too promising either they decided to check it out.
Bang. Bang.
Two of the criminals were shot in the head, and the other two met the same fate, too surprised to counterattack.
Gilbert whistled an upbeat tune as he slipped one of the guns into its holster and handed the other to his partner.
"Wait... what... that was my gun? When did you steal my gun, Gilbert?"
"Don't sweat it, West! You weren't gonna use it anyway." He turned to the leader, now frozen in place and only a few steps away from the door. "So, where's the real stash? I saw your expression when I called you out." He scratched his head. "Making shit up and being right still counts as calling you out, right?"
The man let out a strangled noise. Gilbert laughed.
"Guess so! We'd better cuff him and bring him in for interrogation, huh?"
Ludwig rubbed his temples, feeling a migraine coming on. He was sure working with Gilbert was going to kill him someday, if not by taking a bullet then from a heart attack.