We Are The Axis Allies! 1
(A/N): Me no own, you no sue. APH and it's characters belong to Himaruya Hidekaz. I just own the plot and my OCs. The picture also does not belong to me, it just goes with the story and has all the main characters I want to include.. Though they made Italy look too badass for my taste :3)
Summary: Austria's been kidnapped, some suspicious characters pay the Allied Nations a visit, and Italy wants to make pasta! The Axis and Allies have to work together to retrieve Austria from a very familiar foe. But when their differences, as well as past experiences, get in the way, emotional moments and hilariously awkward situations ensue. (Rated MA for "possible" Yaoi/Shonen-Ai)
She ran. She ran as fast as her thin legs could carry her. Her destination was positive, though most likely not the best. Fresh, green grass crunching under her weight. Spring had reached its beautiful peak and buds bloomed with delight. However, this was not a moment of joy. For he had been taken. Taken from her while she slept. It angered her, but at the same instant, she feared that she may not be able to do.. anything. And because of this, she vowed that should would do anything to bring him back.
"Ve~! Germany! Germany!"
An overly excited Italian shouted the glorified name of his best friend, as he entered the German's office. Inside held, of course Germany, and also Japan. The two were having a discussion of the new type of transportation they should build in order to defend themselves from unwanted enemies. The testy blond sighed and rubbed the inner corners of his eyes.
"What is it Italy?"
His unmistakable German accent pronouncing his w's like v's. Clearly the blond was not in the mood to deal with Italy's antics. Japan, however, just sensed the mood and refrained from speaking.
"Where did you put the boxes of pasta? I want to make you and Japan dinner!"
He cheered, fully entering the room. Japan's eyes glistened excitedly. Ever since his visit to Italy, he.. Well, he hasn't been the same.
"Mister Germany, it would not bother you to have me over for dinner?" The quiet Asian piped out.
"Nein. It's no bother for me. Italy, the boxes are in the cellar. Just make two this time." Germany instructed as he went back to his blueprints. Italy whined.
"The cellar? I don't want to go to the cellar, Germany! It's so dark and scary and full of spiders that just want to bite me and suck my marinara, Italian blood!"
"There are blood-sucking spiders in your homeland Germany?!"
A shocked, as well as paranoid, Japan asked frightened while checking every square inch that no arachnid would be near to suck his thick, proud Japanese blood.
"We have as normal of spiders as any another country! And Italy! Stop being such a pussy! If you really want to make us food, you'll go!" The blond commanded harshly and pointed towards the door. Italy's lower lip quivered.
"But Germany-!"
"Go! And don't you make a mess."
"Ve~.."
Italy sighed defeated and slumped to the cellar. Yes he wanted pasta; no he didn't want a spider to bite his tender skin, suck his blood, ultimately causing his death. But pasta is pasta. How could he pass the nostalgic, starchy meal up? That's right; he can't!
"Ve~... Why is Germany being extra mean today? Maybe he needs pasta~!"
He cheered and added some pizzazz to his step. But his skipping was cut short by desperate pounding at Germany's main door. Italy, being the sweet fella that he is, decided to open it. Humming a lively tune, he merrily strolled to the giant wooden door and opened it widely.
"Ciao stranger!"
He chirped joyfully, his eyes closed in happiness. They snapped open when he felt hands clench his torso. It was Hungary, and she was crying. Her eyes: red and puffy, tear stains marked trails down her cheeks.
"Eh? Hungary, wh-?"
"They took him! They- they took him from me!" She shook her head violently, burying it deep into Italy's chest.
"Wh-who?!" Was the only word he could choke out.
"Austria!"
"Dudes!" America's voice cut through the lazy meeting that was painfully still going on. "We need something that'll stop those Axis!"
"Will you stop stating the obvious?!" England reprimanded his younger 'brother'. "And who are you staring at?!"
America had slammed his palms on the table and stared into the abyss. Speaking to no one in particular. America smirked and shrugged his shoulders.
"No one, but seriously! I accidentally heard Japan on the phone talking to Germany about making U-Boats into giant action fighting robots! Now as awesome as that sounds, we might get our asses handed to us if they manage to build them so I thought-!"
Suddenly, the white, fluffy clouds, that blocked them from the sun's radiant rays, begun to twist and turn to a dark grey, then into a midnight black. No storms had been forecasted for that day, so this struck the Allies odd. China scurried to the nearest window and gasped inwardly.
"There are some strange looking men outside."
"What?" the rest of the nations inquired in synch as they, too, ran to the window.
Outside there were five dark, shadowy figures making their way to the giant building. This was clearly not a good sign.
"Well let's give these creepers a warm welcome.. And by that I mean, let's go kick some ass!"
The Allies hastily sprinted outside, to find that their little buddies were taller than they had anticipated. They were almost two feet taller than Russia. This definitely was not a good sign.
"Bonjour!" France saluted quite happy for the odd situation. The strangers only made a loud gasping, screeching noise, all while unhinging their jaws. "Ew. How disgusting.. and rude."
"These guys don't look very friendly." China commented as he took out his giant wok in defense. The others grunted in agreement. Russia, randomly, started to giggle. His ally nations turned to him.
"I take care of them." The ash-blond stated with a pleased smile.
"You sure that's a good idea, Russia?" England questioned rather upset.
"Oui, they look like they could eat you whole!" France added with a dramatically worried voice. Russia merely continued to giggle.
"Please to be not getting in my way, da?"
He stated calmly before slipping out of his thick, heavy, tan coat. The Russian was quite well built, he was no Germany, but he came close enough. Out of nowhere, Russia pulled out his lightly rusting lead pipe. Twirling it around in one hand, the ash-blond charged the threatening enemies. He rose the pipe into the air, swinging, and sticking the cold, metallic weapon into the side of the 'head' of the enemy. In one swift movement, Russia pulled the pipe out. A substance, with the consistency but not the color, of blood covered the pipe and streamed down the assassin. It fell to its knees and eventually face down. Russia giggled quite pleased and continued with the rest.
One of the other enemies locked the Russian in a full-Nelson while another went running straight at the man. When the mysterious attacker was within his leg's reach, Russia upwardly kicked the fighter and lunged backwards, landing on top of the one holding him, and knocking the wind out of it. He rolled backwards, raised his pipe, and slammed it dead center of the enemy's stomach. Not a second after, he blindly yet accurately elbowed another assailant in the face. The foe was about to stand but Russia grasped a handful of its 'hair' and viciously rammed the cranium into his prepared knee, several times.
Letting go of the limp body, the ash-blond turned his attention to the last able assassin. Russia smiled childishly when he saw the enemy charge right at him. The mysterious attacker spread his arms out horizontally, hoping to add momentum as well as fear into his opponent. Just as he was a couple of feet away from the Russian, the ash-blond unraveled his cherished scarf from his own pale neck and wrapped it tightly around the foe's neck. He tugged and tightened the scarf; getting a natural high from watching his opponent squirm in his arms. Suddenly, a certain Russian thumb jabbed itself expertly into the eye socket of the assailant. The enemy stopped all of its movement. Russia swiftly, and somewhat teasingly, retracted his arm, pulling out a slimy, black eyeball like object. A sliver of ash black skin was still hanging off the opposite end. Russia grabbed the eyeball adhered to his thumb, examined it thoroughly, and, ultimately, squeezed it fiercely in his fist. Trails of the blood like substance oozed out from in-between his fingers.
Russia wiped his oozing hand on the body of the brutally beaten assassin in his embrace, before releasing it. He then turned around to the other nations; an innocent smile sewn onto his thin lips.
"They shouldn't be a problem now, da?" He giggled out while putting on his coat. "Hm?"
A shiny object shone brightly in Russia's amethyst eyes. He winced but picked up the item nonetheless. It was a pin with a button on it. The button was of the image of a certain flag. A flag that was of an enemy.
"Yo! Russia! Man, you gotta teach me where you learned all those moves!" America cheered as the Allies ran to their Russian nation.
"Russia? Hey, what is that?" England questioned as he asked for the button. The ash-blond handed it to the other blond.
"Does the image of this flag... belong to who I think it does?" England whispered out while holding the button out for his allies to see as well. Their eyes widened in shock, along with confusion.
"Dude... So not cool!" America pouted angrily.