Author's Note:

Hello everybody! First of all, I'd like to thank you for reading my story! I spent a long time doing this, and I couldn't wait to share it!

Anyways, just a few warnings for you all:

1) OC

2) Mild Language

And that's about it! I hope you enjoy!

I do not own Hetalia, any of its characters, scripts, ect. The only thing I own is my OC, Florence.

Florence shrieked as yet anotherwarplane whisked by her, its wheels hovering almost close enough to take off her head. The ear-shattering rumble that eluded from the plane's engine was ringing in her ears violently. Good thing that the noise clogged her eardrums. She did not want to hear the explosion and ear-piercing screams that soon followed.

She would not be able to take it.

"Everyone will be fine, Florence," Romano whispered in her ear, "everything and everyone."

Lies.

They were all lies.

She nuzzled her head into the bend of her older brother's neck as his warm body shielded her from the madness around them. He stifled a grunt as her chin brushed his wounded shoulder, which was withdrawing his scarlet blood rather quickly. Using his right arm, which was the one that was injured, he wrapped it tightly around his sister's shoulders and adjusted his neck where her mouth and nose were on it, breathing hot air onto his soft, pale skin.

Breathing the fresh air they were lacking now.

"Romano," Florence whispered.

Romano silenced her by pushing her face deeper into his neck and stroking her long, brunette hair that swayed freely on her back.

Just keep going, Florence. For me.

Suddenly, a borage of gunshots and cries of bloody murder tore through the morning sky. Romano clenched his jaw and squeezed his sister closer to him. They had to move quickly if they were to get out of this alive.

Barley alive, that is.

Clinging to her brother, Florence walked briskly with him down the streets of Rome, Italy. She tried to ignore the several gunshots that were being fired into the air as Romano led her further and further away from the chaos behind them. There was smoke all around them from the bombs that were dropping like flies onto the city. Florence was heavily breathing the heat from her brother's neck, attempting to find fresher air to inhale.

Romano's hand was still pushing her head into his neck and stroking her hair with affection as he lead her away from the thousands of gunmen and dead bodies that they left behind. His other arm was wrapped around both of her shoulders as an attempt to pull her even closer to him.

He was not going to loose his sister.

Romano shuddered as more shrieks of terror rang out into the sky. Those screams only lasted a brief moment before a loud gunshot was heard. Then, they were silenced in an instant. He had to tear his wandering mind away from the horrifying images of innocent people having their lives ripped away from them in a single second and having to perish horribly in front of their families and prying eyes.

Suddenly, a gunshot was fired only feet away from them.

Romano gasped as the bullet whisked by his head as fast as lightening, just barley missing his ear. Instead of putting a hole in the middle of his forehead, the miniscule, silver bullet sailed into the streets behind him, ripping through an Italian flag that was torn and burnt from the attacks.

"R-Romano! They found us!" Florence cried, clutching his pink, button-up blouse in her hands.

Standing only several yards away from them was what Romano thought to be Hell on Earth. Storming the streets of Rome were hundreds of burley men clothed in sharp, black, pinstripe suits. Their bodies were just clumps of meat and muscle, poorly mixed together. Their thick chests and arms were so muscular that they could easily tear through their uniforms at any moment. Masking each cold blooded face was a pair of dark sunglasses; their heads being topped off with a grey fedora. Each man also carried various weaponry, some being simple handguns and crowbars, while others being shiny machine guns and state of the art hand grenades. Baseball bats, clubs, revolvers, and even brass knuckles were glimmering in the morning sun, itching to be used.

Itching to kill.

Romano watched in utter horror as one of the lead men took out a match from his suit pocket and lit his baseball bat, launching it through a nearby window, and setting the apartment ablaze with fire. Others soon followed his lead as they shot their handguns into random buildings and even worse; into random faces. The grenade throwers had already yanked the pin out with their massive jaws and sent the miniscule bombs flying through the air, turning God knows what into a million, toasted pieces. In an instant, the street was filled with fires, blood, and dead bodies of men, women, and children alike.

Romano pulled Florence as close to his chest as he could, resting his head on top of hers and wrapping his arms around her protectively.

He had to get her out of here and to Spain as fast as he could.

Before there was anymore time to think, another silver bullet was fired at them and sailing towards them at a breakneck speed. Suddenly, Romano removed his hold on Florence and shoved her into the tall, brick apartment building that was next to them. Shielding her with his body, Romano kept her pinned against the wall with his firm grip on her shoulders as the bullet whisked by their heads and into the windshield of someone's abandoned car. Their faces were only an inch apart, and they could feel their hot, rapid breath on each other's frightened faces. Romano moved his hands off of her shoulders and cupped them around her cheeks.

"Are you alright, Florence?" he asked, getting even closer to her face, as if he could read the answer in her large, amber orbs.

She just nodded in response, unable to breathe or speak. She could hardly move at all with the strong hold Romano had on her. Here she was, pinned against a cold, brick wall with Romano centimeters from her face, noses touching, and caressing her hair and cheeks. He was certainly much stronger than he appeared.

She stared intently into his beautiful eyes, trying to send a message of what was really going on inside of her. The fear. The anger. The depression. The terrifying thoughts of leaving her nation behind and running away with him to Germany. The horrifying images of people being violently murdered and her city being destroyed by these monsters.

The tears.

Especially the tears.

Florence just wanted to burry her face into his chest, cling to his warm body, and cry. Cry for hours and never stopping until all of the pain, sadness, and frustration were completely gone. She wanted to cry until this massacre had ended and Italy was restored and safe again. Cry until it was the beautiful, romantic, and lively place that Romano had raised her in all of these years.

But she could not.

She could not let those dreaded, cooped up tears spill out of her eyes and drip down onto her pale cheeks. She could not taste the salt that would fall onto her tongue from the drops of water flowing from her eyes. She could not even let a single tear fall and hit the ground in silence and secret. It would all just stay inside of her forever, always chasing and haunting her for the rest of her life. The fear, the anger, the depression, and yes, the tears would always be there, lost in hopelessness.

Florence was torn from her brother's eyes when a sudden burst of flames exploded in the building next to them. She squeezed her eyes shut at the ear piercing screech that erupted from the building where the active grenade had just exploded.

There was blood.

Bloodstains all over the place.

"We need to get out of here," Romano said, searching for an exit.

His eyes scanned the horizon, looking for a way to get Florence out of here. That was when his bright, amber eyes fell onto the car that the bullet had went through only moments ago. A sly smile escaped his lips as he saw the key still hanging out of the ignition.

"C'mon!" he cried, gripping his sister by the wrist and running to the bright red, Italian sports car that sat on the curb, just waiting to be driven.

Florence felt a small cry escape from her throat as she was jerked by her brother down the street and away from the mob of murderers. Her long, brunette hair flew in the wind as her long legs pounded down the concrete after her brother. She was suddenly yanked to a stop by the red convertible that was parked on the curb. Her eyes flashed open in terror. Not from stealing a car, and not from the angry mob behind them.

From the fact that her brother was driving.

Romano quickly pulled on the handle and helped his sister slide into the passenger's seat. The second her foot was in the car, he slammed the door shut, ran around the hood, and jumped his side of the car, sinking into the driver's seat.

There was shards of glass all over the floor and dashboard from the broken windshield. Laying on the leather of the large backseat were several papers, a manila folder, and a single, shiny bullet the size of his fingernail.

Turning back to the stick shift, Romano quickly set it in reverse and slammed on the pedals, causing a earsplitting squeal to erupt into the air as the spinning tires met the hot asphalt roads. The car suddenly jerked backwards, sending the siblings launching forward, caught by their seatbelts.

"Romano! Look out!" Florence yelped, clutching his right arm and pointing through the small hole in the windshield.

Romano followed her gaze and almost screamed out in terror as he saw the entire mob of killers racing towards their car, their beefy legs pumping vigorously.

They had realized who they were.

"Florence, hold on!" Romano cried before setting the car into drive.

The wheels let out one more long, painful screech before the car leaped into action, causing them to crash back into their seats violently. The engine rumbled loudly as the tiny car sped down the road at an amazing speed. Romano tried to avoid some of the oncoming members of the crowd, but ended up having to knock some of them to the ground instead. Tearing through the mob, he swerved in and out of the sea of black and gray fedoras, attempting to not hit any of the attackers.

Suddenly, Romano felt small dents forming in the sides and back of the vehicle.

"Romano, they're shooting at us!" Florence cried, eyes wide with fear.

Just before he could respond, a bullet sailed by right next to Florence's head, causing her to scream bloody murder and duck down. Hands over her head, she looked like a school girl performing what to do in a tornado drill.

"Oh God, Florence! Are you alright?" Romano yelled out, violently swerving to the left side of the street.

"No. Your driving is making me sick!" she muttered, leaning forward and clutching her stomach.

Romano sighed quietly before having to jerk to the right again to avoid the attackers and the dead bodies lying on the road and sidewalk. Suddenly slamming on the gas pedal, he tore through the last people of the crowd, leaving them crippled on the road. Ignoring the several bullets being shot into the car, Romano made a fast, sharp turn onto the street that separated them from the chaos that they left behind.

Romano let out a sigh of relief as the convertible whisked down the calm, silent street that would soon take them to freedom.

Spain cringed at the deafening explosions that were happening all around him. With each bomber plane that streaked across the morning sky, a new bomb was released, included several petrifying screams of pure terror.

It was Hell, alright, and Spain was not sure if he could take it anymore.

He could not help but think of the world above him and what type of destruction had polluted the streets. Deep in the underground railway tunnels, Spain was safe.

But Romano and Florence were not.

Suddenly, another bomb crashed down onto the earth above, this time sending chunks of soil and dirt raining down on him, which sent dust and smoke flying everywhere.

Florence…

Spain knew she was terrified. She was a very independent, beautiful girl, but she was still young and inexperienced with these types of things. He could picture her long, brunette hair permanently stained with the color of gun smoke, and her bright, amber eyes fading to a coal black from the depression. Her normal, cheerful self would be forever gone now, he was sure of it.

No, he must not think like that.

Romano raised her right, and that was a fact.

I hope he can protect her just as well, though…

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind shot through the tunnel at an alarming pace as the enormous, metal door swung open, revealing two darkened silhouettes. The blast of fresh air blew into Spain's face with great force, but it felt amazing on his smooth, tanned skin. The Spaniard opened his bright, hazel eyes to find his two younger siblings dashing towards him.

"Spain!" Florence cried out, running towards him as fast as her legs could carry her body over the large piles of rubble on the ground.

"Mi hermana!" Spain yelled excitedly in his fluent, native tongue.

He opened his arms out to her and embraced her tightly, ignoring the crystal tears that were spilling from his eyes.

"Florence, are you alright? Are you hurt, mi hermosa?" he asked her, setting her down and cupping her cheeks in his rough, sweaty hands.

"She's fine, you tomato bastard," Romano said, walking up from behind Florence.

"Oh, Romano! Thank god, you're alright! You took care of her, didn't you?" Spain asked him with a serious tone in his voice.

"Of course I did. You know very well that I protected her back there," the Italian man replied, wrapping an arm around his sister and pulling her closer to him.

"Fine, but we don't have much time. The rebels are waiting for us to board before they catch us."

That was the moment when Florence recognized the presence of the rather large locomotive rumbling on the sleek train tracks. It's black, iron body was glistening, even in the dark, damp tunnels underneath the streets of Rome. It's engine was shaking violently back and forth, as if trying to separate itself from the rest of the train.

"C'mon, Florence," Romano whispered in her ear as he guided her to the front car of the train, trailing like a pair of lost puppies behind Spain.

Spain slid the iron door open and revealed the posh insides of the first class car. The brilliant lights filled the dank tunnel with a golden glow and created long shadows of the train along the rocky walls. It was so blinding, that Florence had to shield her eyes until they adjusted to its brilliance.

Romano gently helped her climb the short stairs up to the train and watched as she slipped out of view and into one of the rows. Clambering in after her, the two brothers had barley sat down next to her before the train's loud, earsplitting engine roared to life and the locomotive took off down the tracks.

Romano watched as his sister just turned her head and stared blankly out of the train's glass windows, admiring the 'interesting' view of the dirt walls in the pitch black underground tunnels. He let out a small sigh and intertwined his cold fingers with hers, gaining her attention.

"It's not your fault, mia bella. Everything will work out soon, te lo prometto," he whispered to her in his sultry, Italian accent.

"R-Romano."

Suddenly, she let out a loud wail and a waterfall of tears spilled from her eyes.

"Romano, what did you do?!" Spain asked, glaring harshly at his younger sibling.

Instead of cursing at his brother, Romano pulled Florence onto his shoulder and hugged her to himself, resting his head on top of hers and stroking her hair.

"Everything will be alright, bella, don't worry," he whispered, kissing her head.

It pained him to see Florence cry. It felt as if his heart was made of fine glass and someone had just smashed it with a hammer.

Florence had no idea why she waited until now to cry. To let all of that pain and sorrow finally be free from inside of her. She cried out all of the horrifying images of her nation's people perishing at the hands of those monsters. She cried out all of the smoke that was choking her lungs and throat for so long. She cried out all of the misery that had been cooped up inside of her ever sense they set foot out onto the streets this morning.

This horrible morning.

The morning that Hell came.

She found herself clutching Romano's button-up shirt like it was her last hope in life. She felt her wet eyelashes stick to his pale skin and her cheek pressing down onto his shoulder wound, which was now dry. She felt his heart being ripped out as he watched her cry her eyes out like the helpless little girl she was.

Helpless.

Maybe that was why she felt so bad.

She was too helpless to save anyone but herself. She was too helpless to handle herself and instead, had to fully rely on her two brothers.

Her wonderful brothers.

How could they love her even when she was this useless and weak? They were two of the strongest people that she knew, yet they still wasted their time and love on her. Their helpless underling.

Florence did not know when she finished crying, or when she fell asleep, but all she knew was that she was leaving.

Leaving her country behind to perish in the depths of Hell.

Even after she fell asleep, Romano still hugged her tightly to his chest, as if he was protecting her from her own sadness.

As if being with him was the best option for her.

A few hours passed by in pure silence. Spain had fallen into a deep sleep and was quietly snoring beside him. He had been traveling by train nonstop sense this morning. Coming from Madrid and all the way to Rome in less than a few hours had obviously worn him out. Romano watched as several Spanish rebels whisked by them, rushing in and out of the train car, fixing one broken part or another. Occasionally, one would notice the three siblings and let out a sympathetic smile for their nations' futures.

If there was a future at all.

Romano craned his neck over his sister's head to look at the view outside of his window. A lush, vast countryside was hurtling past the train, revealing only small glimpses of the tall grasses and farmland that took residence there.

It appears they had made it to Germany after all.

After about another hour of travel, the train suddenly came to an alarming stop and let out a long, earsplitting whistle, signaling their arrival in Berlin.

Spain's hazel eyes fluttered open and he slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked over at his little siblings. Florence was still fast asleep on Romano's shoulder, and he was still comforting her as if she was still awake.

"Hey, Romano? How is she?" he asked, leaning over to stroke her soft cheek.

"She's exhausted. I think we should let her sleep for a while," he said, brushing her fallen hair out of her face and smiling.

He was smiling.

Spain never knew just how happy Florence made his brother until that moment.

He was seeing a completely different side to Romano ever sense this morning.

He was not just some little, procrastinating, lazy child anymore.

He was an adult.

"Sure," Spain replied as he stood up.

Romano slipped one hand under the bend in Florence's legs and the other securely around her lower back. He steadied himself as he stood up carefully with Florence still in his arms. Here he was, a devil carrying a fallen angel.

The three siblings stepped off of their train and watched as it roared to life again and sped off into the distance, far away from the city.

Little did they know, that the rebels were violently murdered the moment they returned to Rome.

Author's Note:

Translations:

1) Mi Hermana- my sister in Spanish

2) Mi Hermosa- my beautiful in Spanish

3) Mia Bella- my beautiful in Italian

4) Te lo prometto- I promise in Italian

I'm sorry if those translations were wrong, but hey, I speak French and English, not Spanish or Italian.

Hmm...who are these mysterious attackers who are murdering everyone in Italy? Will the siblings ever get their nation back to its former glory? Does Romano have some romantic feelings for Florence? All will soon be revealed in the next chapters!