Title: Game Play
Summary: All of it was just a sense of sadistic merriment. They were the mutilated pieces to be moved, under complete manipulation of their player. Somehow, he doubted any of the pieces would remain to finish the game..
A/N: Hello everyone! I haven't been writing fan fiction recently, but I was given this idea by a friend who doesn't even know what Hetalia is and HAD to write it. It's absolutely amazing and I'm trying to set a role-play for this theme also. u Anyways, thank you for reading my story and I hope you enjoy it!
He didn't know how long he had lain there. Thick material was wrapped around him, trapping him to a cold slate of metal. Even a twitch of a muscle sent his sensitive skin ablaze under the coarse fabric.
How had he gotten there..?
Where was he before it..?
There was a meeting, he mused, a world meeting with every country present for once. Even Prussia had somehow snuck into the meeting unnoticed by Germany before it began. It was a normal meeting, nothing strange had happened. He had gone home with his brother.. his brother…
..Where was his brother..?
However, before he was able to try to think back, he heard a low screech of metal on metal, almost as if a curtain hung by metallic rings was being drawn. Intense light abruptly coated the area around him. His eyes burned terribly in the new light, but he blinked it away and looked around.
He would regret ever opening his eyes.
Before him was a giant saw, aligned to slice up his body vertically in a symmetrical fashion. Its serrated edge dug into the fabric of his dress pants. He had been slung onto a surgical table, complete with a set of scalpels positioned on a table next to him.
"Oh.. oh my god.." he croaked with chapped lips. "U-uhh." Unshed tears welled up into his eyes, threatening to fall. He sniffled, desperately trying to still his wild heart. He was in some sort of torture chamber.. He was here, but where was his brother?
"V-veneziano?" A voice trailed from beside him. Italy jolted to the side, eyes wide and staring into his brother's own. Glints of brown and green were mixed into the misty golden shade, as long as a few tears as well. He opened his mouth to reply, but his throat was intolerably parched. He couldn't seem to make sense of anything.
Suddenly, a loud shrill squeal circulated around the room. It seemed to be centered around an undersized speaker positioned atop the ceiling, properly placed for ultimate surround-sound.
"I see you both have awoken. Good. Now we can get started."
Italy recoiled from the sudden noise, but Romano hadn't stirred. He just eyed the speaker with a bitter glare.
"Ah, ah. No glaring, silly. This is going to be a fun game, aren't we going to have so much fun..?"
The brunette's glower turned stony, but his frown sagged deeper than before. His strange curl drooped slightly into defeated submission. Italy was ultimately muddled. Game? What game?
"Romano.. w-what game..?" he asked with a shaky breath. Brash, obnoxious laughter filled the room, robotic from the sound of the speaker.
"Hehe, I had forgotten you were asleep while I was explaining it to your dear brother. You see, we are going to play a game. It's rather fun you see, competition is always an excellent factor in a game."
Romano crooked his head to the side, refusing to look Italy in the eye. That alarmed the poor auburn even more than the voice in the speaker.
"Here are the rules. Your brother has to answer every question that I ask him truthfully. Whatever he answers, he must carve into his body with one of the scalpels available. If he answers a question false, the chainsaw will move an inch closer to your frail little body.."
The voice trailed off with a thoughtful purr, toying with their sanity and patience.
"However.. There's a second option. A gun is placed next to your silly brother, only harboring one bullet. If he decides, shooting himself in the head would void your game and you shall be set free.. at the price of your brother's life.. How exciting!"
Italy's breathing hastened, eyes darting over to his brother in anxious panic. Romano was looking at the ceiling with an unwavering face, fingers curling around a scalpel. Unknown fury speeding through his veins, Italy ground his teeth together.
"Don't you.. Don't you dare touch that gun!" He yelled with thunderous confidence. Romano looked over in moderate surprise. "That gun… I'd rather die than have my brother kill himself for me!"
"How sweet, little Italian. I think it's about time we start, hmm?"
The scalpel in Romano's hands trembled as he placed in against his skin in preparation. A slight chuckle could be heard from the speaker above.
"Eager aren't you? Well, first question. Let's make this simple. Do you have any hobbies?"
"N-no.." Romano growled, carving into his skin with a pained grunt. Blood welled up on the fresh cuts, but he placed his wounded arm into his mouth to staunch the bleeding.
"No? How boring. Here's another, who do you hate the most..?"
Romano spit blood onto the floor, teeth glinting pink behind his lips. "Potato Bastard.. I hate him so much.." Italy gripped the metal edging tensely. His brother was already beginning to answer sloppily. The voice above was messing with his sanity more than his physical status.. a mental torture..
"I see, carve that in.. Let it sit there and bleed. That will be a lovely scar, if you live of course! Hehe!"
"Next question!" He roared, adrenaline racing through his veins. "Just give me the next question!" His breathing was harsh, as if his stunt had caused bodily exertion. An irritated growl resounded from the speaker.
"Stop being rude, filthy Italian!" The voice snapped crossly. "I was hoping to draw this game out, but I guess you're too impatient to enjoy it as well! Next question, who am I?"
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, lips drawn tight. "I can't answer that.. There's no way to even answer that question! How do you even expect me to know something like that!" Italy flinched in fear of what would happen next.
"Aww, you can't answer? Too bad for little brother, hmm?"
The fastened chainsaw roared to life, its blade spinning with a venomous clamor. It slowly moved its way forward, the rapid edge tearing through the zipper of Italy's pants. Strings wedged themselves into the chain, but they were hastily torn from the intensity of the machine.
"H-help!" Italy screamed in horror. "Help, h-help me! It's going to tear me apart!" He thrashed in his bindings as the chainsaw continued its path onwards. A few seconds later however, the chainsaw settled down to a purr, lodged between his thighs.
"Oops, I went a little more than an inch, yes? Oh well.. Now, silly Italian, are you still as cocky as you were before?"
Romano looked off to the side, no longer able to gaze at his brother. Tears trickled down his cheeks like a silver brook, but he wiped them away with a flick of the wrist. His hands quivered in his lap, twitching madly.
"Italy.."
Taking his sights from the opposing chainsaw flush against him, Italy turned to his solemn brother. He had placed the scalpel back into its original inactive dwelling, not minding the blood staining his fingertips. With a silent inhale, he clutched the gun into one of his hands.
"Italy.. f-fratello.." He turned to Italy, cheeks pale and eyes damp with fresh tears. "I'm not going to play this game anymore. The questions will just keep getting trickier, and I can let you get hurt! I would let you get hurt because of me!"
"Romano, no!" Italy shrieked back, writhing beneath his boundaries. Tears of his own were blurring his range of vision. "D-don't do it… I can't let you do it!"
An unusual smile passed over Romano's face, but it disappeared as the barrel of the gun hit his temple. His chestnut hair was flopped over the barrel, allowing it to contact the skin.
"I-if it will get you out of the place safely and u-unharmed… I'll do it.. Because…. because you are my brother!"
And the crack of a gunshot concluded it all.
"What a turn-out! Who knew that cowardly insolent brat could be that courageous for his little brother? I'm impressed!"
Italy remained silent, eyes not even leaving his brother's chilling corpse.
"I'm a man of my word, you know? Soon you'll be back with your weak diminutive friends once again, won't you like that?"
The bullet had shot directly through Romano's temple, exiting messily in the back of his head. Blood pooled around his wounded skull, obscuring his face in crimson. Lumps of god-knows-what were stuck in between his threads of hair. Bile rose up in his throat, but he swallowed it down with a heavy sigh.
"Still not talking, huh?" He could almost visualize the smirk adorning the enigmatic voice's face; the hidden sadistic laughter boiling behind the veil of the speaker. "Next time you'll wake up, you should be back where you should.. Heh, it was fun 'playing' with you, little Italian."
A vicious gas dispensed into the room, its misty hue spreading around like a wildfire. Without cautioning, his eyelids began to wilt and his limbs felt dense as lead. He coughed crudely into his curled fist, fingers going numb, before he sank into the dank abyss of unconsciousness.
A/N: So, how was it? Was my pace too fast? …kinda felt like it for me.. Any suggestions would be great! I have many things planned out already, but I'd love to hear anything that may make my story more enjoyable to read. Au reviour~!