Full summary:
When a fight between France and England goes too far, the other nations are forced to duck for cover. As they huddle in groups ranging in size from three to twenty people, waiting for the war to blow over, only two nations dare to speak out against the crowd. Can they convince the others to fight back while there's still something left to fight for?
Warnings:
lots of violence; language; yaoi/shounen-ai, het, and yuri/shoujo-ai; more national personifications than anyone would care to count, including many OCs (those being any countries that don't have Hetalia personifications) and minor characters; near-apocalyptic themes; possibly other things I don't remember at the moment
Written 10:40 PM 5/27/2011 – 8:15 PM 5/28/2011
A/N
Now that I've finished that Invader Zim fanfic, I can start a new fic without feeling like a total jackass~ :D I got the idea for this not long ago. Earlier this week or maybe last week? Something like that. But anyway, to ensure that we don't have a repeat of last time, I've decided to be a couple of chapters ahead in writing of what I have published. That way, if I hit a lack of motivation, I won't leave everyone hanging with no warning whatsoever~
So, now that my before!note is probably as long as the freaking prologue, I think I'll start writing.
Much thanks to xChibi-Nick for beta-ing :3
I own nothing.
~o~
Monaco sat on the couch, glaring at the television, and trying her best to ignore her surroundings. It wasn't an easy feat, either. The whole apartment was in disrepair.
The walls, which had once been a beautiful shade of ruby, were now faded to a pale pink. The ceiling had dark spots from water damage, and the floor was hardly visible under all the garbage and the thick layer of dust. What could be seen of the floor was a rough beige carpet that had probably been as white and soft as fresh snow at one point.
The couch, the only piece of furniture in the room besides a chunk of wood that might've once been an end table, was in just as bad a state as everything else. It had several holes of varying sizes, and several stains of various odors. One stain seemed particularly evil, and Monaco made sure to sit as far away from it as possible without sitting on the floor.
Or rather, the pile of old newspapers on the floor surrounding the couch.
Even the television was disgusting, the whole thing covered in dust. It had two flimsy antennae, bent and broken, and the screen was cracked. All in all, the apartment Monaco sat in was a dump, and it certainly didn't help alleviate her bad mood.
oOo
Monaco sat on the disgusting couch, in the equally disgusting room, wishing desperately that she had something, anything to inflict pain or damage on. Sadly, the rest of the apartment was as much of a wreck as the living room, so there was nothing to destroy. So, the young woman focused all her anger on the TV.
Ironically, what was playing on the TV was exactly the thing that had her so angry to begin with.
oOo
On the cracked, dusty screen, there were two men. It was a pre-recorded scene, and it had the world on the edge of its seat.
The man on the left was, in a word, gorgeous. He had medium-length, wavy hair that was as golden as the sunset. His light blue eyes shimmered in the well-lit conference room. His gaze alone would make any woman (and many men) give him their full attention, a good amount of respect, and maybe a kidney. His somewhat effeminate clothing did nothing to detract from the image. If anything, the billowing blue-violet shirt added to his beauty.
The man on the right was... to be honest, he was a bit odd-looking. His eyebrows were unusually large, but his shaggy blonde hair looked nice enough. He wore a simple white dress shirt, with a green jacket and black tie. He gave off a mildly intimidating aura, not unlike that of a weary parent. Most of all, he seemed to detest being seated so close to the other man, who was studiously ignoring him in favor of winking suggestively at the camera.
They obviously were not the best of friends.
The two men had namecards on the table in front of them. The man on the left's read "France", while the other's read "England". Any human who accidentally tuned in to the channel would assume that the men were ambassadors or something. However, there were others who recognized them for what they were: living personifications of their respective countries.
After a few seconds of France's winking and England's grumbling, the two seemed to focus. They had most likely been given a cue by an off-site interviewer. Undoubtedly another country, as such a job would not be entrusted to a human.
Monaco – and the countless other viewers – quickly learned the identity of the interviewer as the image on-screen split in half. The two men were now on one side of the screen, while a third was on the other, obviously in another location.
The third man had short, blonde hair, much like the other two. His eyes were half-lidded, and he held a satisfied smile on his face, as though he knew something you only wished you knew. Oddly enough, he was wearing a pink shirt. If one looked closely, they would see that it was a blouse. The third man's namecard read "Poland".
"Hey, everyone! Poland here~. I'm here to, like, interview those guys over there!" Poland said, pointing to his left, where he knew the other screen would be. "Like, how are you guys doing? I hear things really suck at your place."
England's eye twitched in annoyance, but he did his best to hide it. "Well, Poland, what you've heard is true. There is quite a bit of dissatisfaction in our neck of the woods, and we owe it all to this wanker," he said, jerking his thumb in France's direction.
France chuckled in a strained way, before responding in mock upset. "Oh, Angleterre, I am hurt! How could you blame dear me for this atrocity?" before mumbling just loud enough to be heard, "Because, bien sûr, it is you who has caused this."
England growled at the other man, but managed to keep his cool.
"Hey, guys?" Poland interjected, sensing the harsh atmosphere from miles away, "Why don't you, like, tell the people watching what's up?"
France chuckled again, but this time, it seemed more mocking than anything. "But of course, mon ami! I would be happy to inform our viewers of what the punk over here has done to us!"
"Watch it, frog," England muttered angrily, "You're just as much at fault as myself."
The two men glared at each other for a few moments, before their interviewer coughed awkwardly. "Uh, guys? Could you, like, get on with it?"
The other two nations' eyes widened, before they changed their glares into looks of desperation.
"You tell them! You're the one who started all this!"
"No, you do it! It isn't my fault!"
"Of course it's your fault, you wanker! Just tell them!"
The two whispered frantically to each other for a few moments, before deciding that France would say it. (England's logic being, "They like you better! You have a better chance of going unscathed if they attack!")
France gave the viewers an apologetic look, and sighed. "Mes amis, I have some rather sad news for you. You may recall the environmentally-friendly vehicle I began producing three years ago. No other country was willing to make it, because of high production costs, but as my economy was quite healthy at the time, I was able to. Investors from many of your countries began to speculate heavily on the automobile. In order to keep up with the high demand, we began to build more and more factories, and train more and more workers in the making of the new vehicle."
"Everything was magnifique for some time," France continued with a sad note in his voice, "as the cars were bought and resold in many other countries. However... before too long, people decided that the automobile was no longer worth what it cost, and ceased buying it! More and more people sold, and fewer and fewer bought. Before long, the factory workers were out of their jobs, and there was a mad scramble to get rid of the cars that nobody would buy." France paused for breath; his voice had raised in pitch and tempo as he spoke, panic seeping in to every word.
The man sighed once again. He looked directly into the camera, as though he were speaking to the viewers individually."Of course, this is terrible news for myself, but it is bad for everyone else. For, you see, the people who distributed the cars in all of your countries were out of jobs as well! The people of your countries are all in the same boat as myself. Too much supply, and far too little demand. I trust you all understand what this means?" France sniffled, as if to further emphasize his point.
"Yes, that is right, mes amis! We are all out of luck. The bubble has burst, and now we are all paying for it. I offer my sincerest apologies, and I promise that I am working on a solution." France kept his gaze directed at the camera. He seemed close to tears, but he didn't speak any more, instead allowing his words to sink in.
By the time France's little speech had ended, Poland was dumbstruck. He seemed to take a few moments to rewind, and work out what France had said. When he realized what it all meant, his eyes shot open fully, a rare occurrence for him. "W-What! Like, no way is this happening! This is totally uncool!" he said, panic in his eyes, before he realized something else.
"Wait... Like, what does England have to do with all this?" Poland asked in confusion.
France glared at the other nation, who had ducked his head as soon as his name left Poland's lips.
"Angleterre is responsible because he was the one who started the mad dash to speculate on those automobiles!" France exclaimed, spitting the other man's name as though it left a bad taste in his mouth.
Those last words seemed to open the floodgate of chaos. Poland was talking a mile a minute, while France and England yelled back and forth, both of their faces bright red in anger and shame.
And then, the screen went black. A commercial started, and Monaco sighed wearily. She opened the channel guide, hoping for something else, but to no avail. The same pre-recorded interview would be playing for the rest of the day, and probably tomorrow too. In fact, it would probably be on the day after that, and the day after that, as well. After all, that same interview had been playing on that channel for two long weeks.
~o~
A/N
Okay, I'm pretty sure France's little speech was accurate. But if that wouldn't actually work, please feel free to correct me ^_^;;
Anyway, there's the prologue. I hope you enjoy ^_^
P.S. 3:53 PM 6/21/2011
I just finished typing chapter two. Today was the last day of school, and only about two hours long, so I had time :3 Although I should've finished it a week or two ago... but whatever. Just gotta get it beta'd, fix it up, and post the prologue :3