A/N :I do not own Hetalia, if I did, I'd have Canada take over the world and have England sing Amy Winehouse songs. Just because I could.
This is my first comedy attempt Dx...I've never written one before...
Wow, I'm juggling two other stories... Oh well, I'm not planning to make this one that long.
Warning: Switzerland's inner thoughts. Failed humor. Randomness. Switzerland going insane. Human names and country names. One random bit of SwitzerlandxRifle. Drunk England being brought into conversation.
The purple midnight sky proved to be the perfect curtain for the perfect crime. A robbery had taken place in a Swiss bank, just a few miles north of France. It was so clean that not even Switzerland's best police detectives could find a trace of the thief who committed the dirty deed. To put it simply, it was a giant jigsaw puzzle. One with only a few pieces, none of which matched.
Vash realized that he would never figure this crime out on his own, as much as his innards twisted in pain to admit it and the thought of asking for help made him feel as if they were dissolving into little itty bitty pieces of dead cellular matter. But no. It had to be done. Social interaction to him was like giving his pride a kick in the liver, but this was an emergency. Drastic times call for drastic measures. And if getting his precious money back meant socializing, than goddammit, he was going to socialize. Nobody messed with his beloved banking system and got out alive...erm, away with it.
Vash went through all the possible contacts in his head.
Feliciano? No, he's more useless than England's panjandrum and about as smart as a pancake. That and I'm still pissed off at his nudity in my territory. Seriously. How many bullets does he need to learn? Apparently more than a few million.
France...he has the technology, but the perverted bastard is one of my suspects. Anyways, he's terrified of me after I shot him in the head for molesting England. Oh, and let's not forget that picture he took of me in my PJ's...Did I shoot him for that too? I shot him so many times that I don't remember anymore...Psh. So the antisocial guy who sleeps with his rifle wears frilly pink pajamas...is that so wrong? They were a gift from my sister. How could I refuse them? That insensitive...
Sensing he was getting off topic, he switched to the next contact.
Japan...Hell no. He thinks all I do is eat cheese, play with goats, and pimp out Zurich in my free time. That idiot.
Liechtenstein...Well, as much as I care for my sister, she wouldn't really be of much help.
Austria...No, that would be incredibly awkward, not to mention a kick in my pride's trachea. He'd probably just freeload off of me, abandon me for coffee and pastries, and then just completely leave my money to God's mercy.
Germany. Germany. Germany! He's perfect! And not only that, but I can actually stand him! He's intelligent, intimidating, dogged, determined, a whole bunch of other things that start with a "d," and he doesn't molest people! Ha! I'm such a genius. Good thing this is in my own head and nobody else can hear this. Th-that would be really embarrassing.
Now that that was settled, it was time for the scary part. Making the damned phone call.
He took his time dusting the cobwebs off his phone, and once he was sure the spidery residue was completely totally gone, he exhaled a shaky breath and gathered his thoughts.
With a trembling hand, he picked up the phone and began to dial the number. Each press of a button felt like rabid squirrels gnawing at his very soul. But his money was out there. Suffering. This had to be done.
That's it Vash. Work it baby. Work that phone. You can do this. You've endured the darkest of winters. You've survived naked Italians running around your house, you can totally survive this phone call. It's just a phone call. Nothing special. Once again, I'm glad no one can hear this...Wait. Why didn't I get Lili to do this for me? Dammit, Vash, why are you such an idiot?
His inner dialogue had been disrupted by a deep-voiced "Guten Morgen" from the other side of the phone.
Vash let out a shaky breath, tried to speak, choked on his saliva, violently coughed, regained his composure, and rasped. "Ludwig. I...need..."
"Medical attention?" The German prompted.
"No, damn you!" There was a pause. "I need your...help...with a robbery case." Just saying that vile word made his esophagus burn up, but he did it. He socialized. And asked for help. He was so proud of himself.
Somewhere, Ludwig heard a cash register ding. His brother's drinking and panda fetishes were taking a drain on his treasury so he could use the money.
"Hm. Is it so bad you actually had to call someone for help?" Ludwig had to smile, even if the expression was lost over the phone line.
"Yes. Don't think I wanted to."
" I wouldn't have imagined anything different, but really. A crime you can't solve? I would have thought that there would be a higher probability that Arthur would show up at your bedroom window drunk wearing nothing but hot pants and a bra singing Amy Winehouse's Rehab."
"He's done that." Vash answered in all seriousness.
The German's smile faded. "What?"
"Showing up at my bedroom window drunk wearing hot pants and a bra singing Rehab."
"...The hell?"
"Ludwig, you don't know the things I've been through... The things I go through on a daily basis...that was nothing in comparison to others."
"I don't even know how to react to that."
"Pretend like you never imagined it."
"Okay."
After a an awkward silence and a kitten death, Ludwig resumed the conversation "So, you want me to come over?"
"Yes. But don't bring anybody with you."
Ludwig sucked in some air. "Well, I normally bring Japan with me as my technologic-"
"NO!" Switzerland shouted. Ludwig actually had to hold the phone out within arm's distance to keep from going deaf. "Don't bring him. I do not enjoy his fantasies about me in a dress prancing around the mountains! I DON'T CROSSDRESS."
"Yes, Vash, I'm sure we all realize that but, I can't work without his weird inventions to help me solve cases, so I won't really be of much help alone."
Vash growled. " Fine. Bring him."
"But if I bring him, I have to bring Italy to..."
Vash headdesked so hard, Ludwig heard it from the other side of the phone line.
"What can he be useful in?" The poor Swiss man mumbled.
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
"Then why the hell do you want to bring him?"
"Well, if I take Japan, I'll have to take him, else he'll cry. And if I just leave him, he'll stalk me here. And cry."
Vash felt like curling himself up in a little roly-poly, but knew it would be useless.. Maybe he should have just held France on gunpoint and called him over to investigate. Two of the people on his "dislike" list were going to be glomped with him until this case was solved. Oh, the joy. He felt like crying.
"Fine. Just make sure the Italian is wearing pants this time."
"Do I want to know the basis for that request?"
"No."
"Okay, whatever. I'll be right over."
They both hung up. Vash collapsed on the cold marble floor and felt a good chunk of his sanity slowly die away, painfully. Almost as if a rabid cow was nomming at it. Could he survive this case? He hoped so. Awful. This was just plain awful.
He held his rifle closer to his chest.
"Don't worry, schaetzchen. We'll get through this. Together. Just as we have since the beginning of time."
Once again, he was glad no one was there to see that.
