Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine.
Chapter 1: Kidnappings
Liechtenstein's House
Vaduz, Liechtenstein – 2:46 pm
December 13th
Liechtenstein hummed to herself, swinging her plastic bag full of cloth and lace. Her wonderful big brother was so nice. He liked the last pair so much, she decided to make him another one. This one was for his birthday.
Stepping onto the porch, she rummaged through her pocket for the key. She inserted the key into the slot and pushed the door open. She set down her bag onto a nearby table for a moment and locked the door again. It was then that she noticed a strange smell wafting from the kitchen. Was someone cooking? No, it smelled like one of England's food gone wrong . . .
She walked to the kitchen. She was positive she didn't invite anyone over today, and she knew from Switzerland that she should never let England into the kitchen – ever.
Suddenly, a muscled hand wrapped around her neck and a large cloth reeking of an unknown substance pressed against her face. The rag was covering her eyes, so she kicked out blindly, holding her breath and squirming in her attacker's grip all the while. She felt her left leg crash into something hard – a chair? Something wooden crashed to the ground, eliciting a long stream of curses.
Liechtenstein's struggle became less violent; she couldn't hold her breath any longer. She needed oxygen now. She inhaled deeply, and that was when she finally recognized the smell.
Chloroform.
And then there was darkness.
Austria's House
Vienna, Austria – 2:46 pm
December 13th
Austria sat in front of the grand piano, ready to compose another piece. Prussia was off badgering Germany and Hungary was . . . somewhere. He wasn't sure where, but she wasn't here. And Switzerland . . . Last he heard, he was shooting at Italy for streaking on his property.
No more distractions.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He placed his experienced fingers on the keys and played a few practice scales. In the middle of playing D melodic minor, he frowned. His G was sharp. But that never happened. His piano was always in tune. He stood up, intending to examine the instrument. Perhaps one of the hammers was damaged . . .
He looked in, and was startled to see a small metallic device attached to one of the strings. He leaned in for a better look.
Pfft!
A spray of noxious gas erupted from the device, coating his glasses and instantly knocking him out onto the arms of a man that really had not been there before.
Canada's House
Ottawa, Canada – 8:46 am
December 13th
Canada poured a generous amount of maple syrup over his tall stack of pancakes. It was sunny outside, the snow was beautiful, the economy was great, and the morning news spoke of a good Samaritan that helped restrain an armed burglar inside a nearby Tim Horton's café. He didn't know why the burglar would choose to rob a café, but no one was hurt and that was what counted.
He helped himself to his breakfast, keeping one eye on the television. The anchorman smiled at something his partner said, and announced that the Prime Minister's wife was pregnant. Canada made a mental note to congratulate his boss.
In the corner, Kumajirou looked up from his breakfast and growled, a piece of seal meat hanging from his jaws.
"What is it, Kumachee?"
The polar bear dashed off, his food forgotten. Canada frowned and stood up. He could hear him snarling in his bedroom. That wasn't good. Kumajirou only did that when something dangerous was nearby.
He rose from his chair and climbed upstairs, grabbing a nearby hockey stick. He peered through the door and was surprised to see a black-clad man struggling to shake a furious Kumajirou off his arm.
Canada raised his hockey stick and whacked the man in the head, cleanly knocking him out. He bent down to pick up Kumajirou, who was still rumbling at the man he had attacked. Red darts flew above his head and embed itself on the opposite wall. Mentally cursing in French, he spun around and bashed his stick into the other intruder's head. He pushed past the dazed man and ran downstairs, planning to call the police.
On the way down, he felt a small prick in his neck and immediately fell over unconscious.
Ukraine's Backyard
Odesa, Ukraine – 3:46 pm
December 13th
Ukraine carried her pitchfork outside, intending to clean it. She had been meaning to clean it up, but there had been so many diversions lately, she never had the chance to. Her back was acting up again, too . . . She needed to do something about that.
She bent down to pick up a stray hose, wincing as she did so. She heard someone behind her and spun around with a smile. She forgot she was holding a pitchfork though, so when she whirled, it resulted in said pitchfork to lodge itself in a very painful place in the man's anatomy.
Needless to say, Ukraine was horrified.
"Oh dear, I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" She took hold of the man's shoulders and led him to sit underneath a tree. "I'm really, really sorry about that. Do you need . . ." She trailed off. Finally, she noticed the black clothes, the balaclava, and the dart gun.
The man snarled, and pulled the trigger. She yelped and instinctively raised the pitchfork. The dart ricocheted off the metal and dropped to the grass. A pair of strong arms from behind tried to wrap themselves around Ukraine's body, but she jabbed the end of her tool on the man's stomach, causing him to double over. She knocked the pitchfork over the man's head and glared. "Excuse me but –" She cut herself off. Her eyes glazed over. She dropped to the ground, the farming tool rolling off her grasp. A bright red dart fell off her shoulders.
The unlucky man who got hit in the balls smirked and reloaded his dart gun – just in case.
Dario's
Milan, North Italy – 2:46 pm
December 13th
Italy felt like eating pasta.
Of course, he always felt like eating pasta, but this was different. This was a sudden, undeniable urge that needed to be satiated immediately.
He had intended to fly to Germany today to ask his friend to go to the beach with him (who cared if it was December?) – Switzerland wasn't happy at him at the moment – but this craving for pasta had to take priority! Sure, he only had half an hour left until his plane leaves, but he can always schedule another one.
So here he was, sitting at one of his favourite Italian restaurants, gorging himself on the greatest dish known to man. He drank the rest of his wine (it tasted a bit off, but it was still good). He stifled a burp and giggled. Dario had outdone himself. He smiled flirtatiously at a waitress carrying a tray of drinks. She really was pretty. Her long curly hair, those brown eyes, that cute nose . . .
Bang!
The waitress dropped her tray in shock, sending all the glasses crashing to the marble tiles. The diners screamed and huddled underneath their tables. Italy snatched a white handkerchief with a shaking hand and tied it to his fork, waving it around weakly from his position under the table.
Germany! Germany! . . . Oh right, he wasn't here.
A man in black stood in the middle of the restaurant, pointing his gun threateningly. "Feliciano Vargas!"
Italy whimpered and shrank even more. He felt sick. He felt faint. He ate too much pasta and now, his stomach was churning because of the stress. Everything was blurry now . . . Hey, the waitress had a twin! No . . . Triplets?
Italy closed his eyes and slept. He didn't notice the man in black drag him from under the table and leave the restaurant.
Australia's House
Adelaide, Australia – 10:16 pm
December 13th
Australia sank deep into his bed, tired after a day with kangaroos. Those little buggers sure knew how to box! His koala rested in the corner, glaring at the window. He took no notice of this – the koala was always glaring evilly at something.
Just as he was about to sink into sleep, he heard his koala growl. He opened one of his eyes and immediately seized the nearest weapon – a lamp. He threw it at the man coming through his window and rolled out of bed. He opened one of the drawers and came up with a dart gun. He only used it to tranquilize animals, but he figured it would work on humans too. He stood up and hollered, "Ya wanna blue with me, huh? Why are you wearing that mask? What, ya got a face bashed in shit can?"
The intruder cursed and raised his gun, but the koala jumped and bit into the man's right arm. While the man was distracted, Australia took the time to yell more insults. "Get a woolly dog up ya! We don't want ya here, ya bloody galah!" It never occurred to him to actually use his tranquilizer gun.
The man took hold of the koala, ripped him from his arm, and threw the poor animal into the wall.
The koala didn't move.
Australia yelled even more. "Why ya gotta hurt an innocent koala?! At least his face is better than yours! I've seen better heads in a piss trough, I have." He hoisted the gun and shot at the man. The dart hit its target dead on, sinking itself into the neck.
"Ha! Try to break into my house, hm? Ya got no more sense than a native bear, and not half as good-lookin'!"
He was concentrating on insulting the unconscious intruder, and so was unaware of the two others lodging a pipe into the window.
He also didn't notice the knockout gas that filled the room.
Norway's House
Hammerfest, Norway – 2:46 pm
December 13th
Norway sat in his couch, conversing quietly with a fairy. She was complaining about the eating habits of a troll when she stopped and tilted her head. Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth was gearing up into the beginnings of a snarl.
"What?" Norway asked.
The fairy shot to the door, just as someone knocked from the other side.
Curious as to who wanted to visit him, he strode to the door and laid a hand on the doorknob, ignoring the fairy's sounds of protests. It was probably either Iceland or Denmark. He opened the door and received a hard punch to the face. The last thought he had before blacking out was, What did I do?
The Supermaket
Riga, Latvia – 3:46 pm
December 13th
The market was busy. A not-really-fifteen-year-old boy jostled through the crowd and entered one of the bigger stores. He pushed through other shoppers, determined to reach the alcohol section. Once there, Latvia examined a bottle of alcohol. For some reason, Russia told him to go back to his own country and buy him some local vodka. He wanted to see what the differences were between Russian vodka and other vodka.
Sighing, he placed several bottles into the basket. After a moment of thought, he picked out a couple of other alcoholic drinks for his own. He needed it. When was the last time he drank alcohol again?
Hidden deep within the crowds, a black-clad man tailed the Baltic state into the checkout counter. When he was done with his purchase, the man slowly pulled out a loaded gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet struck the roof, a few pieces of plaster falling from the ceiling. The sound of the gun echoed through the big supermarket and silenced the people for a moment.
He slowly enunciated, "I want Raivis Galante." He stared directly at Latvia, whose eyes had widened.
The man took hold of a nearby woman holding a child and pressed the gun against her head. "Raivis Galante."
Latvia let out a small panicked squeak. "W-wait!" He took a shaky step forward. The crowds parted, staring at him nervously.
The man shoved the softly sobbing woman away from him and shot the Nation with a tranquilizer dart. He smirked. This was fun . . .
South Korea's House
Seoul, South Korea – 9:46 pm
December 13th
South Korea was watching a Korean drama (that originated from him, of course) with rapt attention.
"Oh, Mi-Cha, do you know how much I love you?"
"Hyun-Chik! This is too soon! I must . . ."
He was totally ignorant of the figure rising behind the couch and pricking his neck with a needle.
Finland's House
Helsinki, Finland – 3:46 pm
December 13th
Finland was sitting in the middle of his living room, humming a Christmas carol and generally feeling great. He smiled happily to himself. Twelve more days until Christmas! He grinned at his Santa costume and went back to work. He wrapped up China's present (a giant Hello Kitty plush) and set it aside. Next, Russia's vodka . . . Where did he put it?
He stood up and went to the kitchen. Opening the fridge door, he was unsurprised to see the bottles of vodka on the bottom. He lifted the box and closed the door. Pausing, he opened the door again and grabbed a carton of eggnog for himself.
He went back to the living room and sat down on the floor again. He unrolled a sheet of wrap and concentrated on enveloping the box. After he finished that, he took a swig of eggnog and reached for France's present – a beautiful ornate mirror.
He blinked.
His head pounded. His pulse sped up. He was finding it hard to breathe. What is happening? He rubbed his eyes. For some reason, he felt drowsy. Really drowsy. His unfocused eyes drifted to the carton of eggnog before he passed out.
Taiwan's House
Taipei, Taiwan – 8:46 pm
December 13th
Taiwan set the hot bowl of mian xian on the table and pulled out a chair. It had been a long day. Her boss had dragged her to a meeting with some of Japan's politicians. It was boring, but Japan was there, so it was bearable.
She ate a big helping of noodles, marvelling at the taste. See, this was why she liked to cook. It always paid off after. The broth was a bit . . . off though. She shrugged; maybe she put in too much shallots? It didn't matter; she was so hungry, she could eat anything (except England's cooking – she'd rather starve than take one bite of his scones). Halfway through her bowl, she felt dizzy. Was she eating too much? No, she was really hungry . . .
She fainted.
Greece's House
Athens, Greece – 3:46 pm
December 13th
Greece petted the tabby cat, dozing as he did so. The cat purred.
He yawned.
He felt for the giant cross at his side and absently hit the "stealthy" intruder. He swung the cross again, this time giving the other intruder one a black eye.
He yawned again.
The cat purred.
He drowsily opened his eyes and whacked a third attacker in between his thighs. Ouch. "What do you think you're doing?"
A fourth intruder popped up from behind a table and aimed a dart gun at him. Greece ducked, shielding the cat in his lap. He jumped away from his couch and gently set the cat down. It rubbed its head against his leg before facing the attackers with a vicious snarl.
Greece firmly held the cross in his hands – sorry, Mount Athos – and smacked the black-eyed attacker in the head. Not waiting to see him go limp, he spun and hit the one holding the gun in the wrist. He snatched the fallen dart gun and rapidly shot at the others. The gun spat out two darts – which lodged themselves on two attackers' bodies – before running out. Greece threw the gun at the last assailant, hitting him in between the eyes.
Greece sighed. He really wanted to sleep right now.
Well, he got his wish.
He didn't sense the fifth intruder sneaking up behind him and pinching a spot in his neck.
A single card fell from his fingertips, resting where twelve Nations used to lay.
Woo! My first Hetalia fanfiction.
Totally excited for this.
Anyway, if you're wondering how I chose which countries to kidnap, I can tell you right now that it's very random. As in: I cut up a list of Hetalia characters, stuffed it inside a box, and pulled out twelve random Nations.
A few characters might seem off, but that's because I don't know them very well. I try my best to keep them in character though . . .
It's going to be a while before I post the second chapter, so please be patient. I need to jot down detailed descriptions of what's going to happen in each chapter before I start typing up Chapter 2. Plus, I really shouldn't be doing this - I have other stories to deal with - but this idea came to me so long ago, it's hard to resist.
Reviews are very much appreciated :)