A/N: So... I've been dead for a while. Not literally, though I often wish I was. Anyway, I've decided to start anew. I'm abandoning my fics from last year -yes, I'm a shitty person- and beginning new ones, this time, trying to explore more exciting AUs. Because it's like, they could be intergalactic warriors, a travelling circus, fuckin' dragon trainers, I don't know, and for some reason, I decided to write them into a human AU? Fuckin' hell. Wow. So now, have this. A Wonderland zombie AU. With a shitload of shipping. Fuck yes.
A blue checkered table cloth fluttered in the wind whistling around the top of the building. Broken glass left unattended glittered on the rooftop floor like sinister confetti. Romano crunched across the shards in solid combat boots as he stalked towards the table, heavily laden with sweet treats and tea.
'About time!' England complained from the head of the table. The red ribbons on his magnificent top hat swirled in the wind. 'You're late for tea!'
Prussia giggled maniacally from his side, frantically stabbing at the sugar cubes in his teacup with a switchblade. His long coat sported a new burn mark that hadn't been there before.
France fidgeted on England's other side, nervously checking the time repeatedly, tapping his foot and tugging the sleeves of his crisp suit.
Spain dozed away on the table, head cradled in his arms and axe forgotten by his side.
'It's fucking breakfast time, you crazy bastard,' Romano grumbled, taking a seat at the end of the table, opposite England. 'And why do you never have any coffee? I need caffeine.'
England grinned, twirling a teacup around his pinky finger. 'My apologies, dear! I am awfully sorrowful that I am unable to obtain your precious coffee beans under the current circumstances. Perhaps we may find some later today!'
The albino beside him howled with chilling laughter, driving his blade three inches into the table and leaving it there. 'I'm sure we will. The dead don't drink nothing but blood...' He gave Romano a smirk, his restless crimson eyes darting around, searching for nothing in particular.
Romano shivered through his thin blue shirt and white vest. The rooftop of what used to be a hotel was cold as hell, but it was the only place big enough to fit England's tea table, and it was enough floors up that the beastly howling and screeching of the undead below them couldn't be heard.
'Let's just get on with it,' Romano huffed. 'We're running out of food, our car is low on fuel, and France needs more ammo. The only place in this city with all those things is Russia's crazy fortress down at the Parliament House. Either that, or we'll have to move to another city to find resources.'
'Ooh, the Red King keeps his fortress heavily guarded,' England breathed, excited by the bizarre challenge. 'But that stupid commie has feeble guards, feeble, feeble, feeble. Save for his queen China, and that knave Belarus. Oh, but dear duchess Ukraine should have plenty of food for us, ohoho!'
'Is there nowhere else to get these supplies?' France asked with a frown, checking the cartridges in his two pistols with white-gloved hands. 'What about the Nordics up in their tower on the West end of the city?'
'They have fuel and food, but the only guns they use are fully automatic assault rifles,' Romano shuddered, remembering the last time they accidentally crossed under Finland's watchful eye. 'They wouldn't have the ammo you need.'
France sighed, sweeping a stray lock of golden hair behind his ear and regarding his firearms with a wistful look. 'Perhaps I should give up guns like the rest of you.'
'No way, man,' Prussia objected, grabbing France's sleeve and staring him down with wild eyes. 'You're the deadest shot out of all of us. I've never seen you miss a single headshot. We need you and your crazy skills!'
'It's not enough to get us past our lovely White Queen though,' England remarked cheerfully, pouring himself another cup of tea. 'Norway goes to great lengths to protect his precious little brother. And he's got that brute of a knight Denmark.'
'Alright, alright,' France agreed, jerking his arm out of Prussia's grasp. 'What about Italy's place down at the hospital? They've got Germany, Switzerland and Liechtenstein, they should have tons of firearms and ammo between those three.'
'Bastard, we're not stealing from my brother! Or his brother,' Romano nodded grudgingly at Prussia. 'They're our allies and they need their supplies more than we do. They have a whole bunch of Europeans staying in that hospital.'
'Our darling Mock Turtle has his crew to take care of~,' England sang merrily. 'Veneziano captains a mighty ship of living souls~'
Romano rolled his eyes. 'The idea of my idiot brother 'captaining' anything is terrifying. We all know Germany does all the work, that macho potato bastard of a shitty little-'
A teacup went whirling past his head and of the edge of the roof. Prussia waggled his silver eyebrows at him mischievously.
'Right,' Romano remembered. 'No talking shit about your little brother.'
'Especially in front of me,' Prussia hissed with a threatening smile.
'We're running out of time!' France urged, waving his pocketwatch around erratically. 'Hurry up and eat so we can carry out this raid already!'
'Whatever,' Romano muttered, grabbing a cupcake. 'Let's get our gear and go.'
'Yes! Adventure!' Prussia jittered upright like a wind-up toy and kicked Spain awake.
'Hmmmrrph?!' Spain flailed briefly. 'Adventure?'
'Arise, my mousy little pirate!' England shook his shoulder. 'We're going on a raid!'
'Oh!' Spain jumped into action, easily swinging his heavy axe over his shoulder and following the group down the stairs into the hotel.
Once inside, Prussia flung open a cleaning closet and grabbed his broadsword, dashing down the hallway to another stairwell. 'Meet you at the bottom, last one there has to drive!' He leaped onto the banister and slid down with a whoop of delight.
Within a few minutes, the team had assembled in the lobby; Romano with his elegantly deadly Vorpal sword, England with his supposedly magical staff, Prussia with his broadsword, France with his dual pistols, and of course, Spain with his axe.
England arrived last, which meant he had to drive.
'Bollocks!' he growled, marching out the door, the coattails of his harlequin suit trailing behind him.
'I'm just glad Romano isn't driving,' Spain remarked with a warm smile, earning himself a punch from an offended Italian.
'There's nothing wrong with my driving!' Romano complained, red faced.
France politely tried to muffle his amusement with a gloved hand, but Prussia broke down laughing unrestricted.
'Get in the bloody car!' England yelled from outside.
Spain got shotgun, and the rest of them piled onto the back of the sturdy pick up truck. England hit the gas and within seconds, the soft rotting flesh of a walking corpse was splattered across the windshield.
'UGH,' France spat in disgust, mopping blood off his shoulder with his handkerchief.
'Sorry, love!' England apologized the crew over Prussia's hysterical excitement. The car righted itself and swerved dangerously around the staggering corpses littering the street, and occasionally slamming into one, causing the decaying flesh and blood to burst outwards like a water balloon.
'Gross,' Romano complained, attempting to use Prussia as a shield against the macabre mess.
The albino just laughed, the crazed sound ringing out through the lifeless city as they sped down the roads.
A/N: so, this is meant to be kind of a... Hetalia as Wonderland characters in like, a Walking Dead setting. I might kill a few characters. Any ideas? Thanks for reading.
