Um... hola~! I know, it's been a while. I've also kinda lost my muse for the Nordic Five... so here's something I wrote quite a while back. If you're watching me on DeviantART you would already have seen this. It's actually a prologue to my in-progress HetaGame Project Espanya (which can be found on my dA page Quasi-Harkness), though even without that context it seems pretty good to me.
Okei, here we go. Remember, this was meant to be a prologue to something else so don't expect a written continuation of this; it all continues in the actual game. PM me if you're interested in how Project Espanya carries on after this!
Birds were singing, flowers were blooming... on a day like this...
...Italy Romano was standing outside a café in Madrid. Hey, he had an excuse! He was waiting for someone.
Someone who was very late.
"Damn it, he's late again..." he muttered to himself, checking the clock in his cellphone again. Five minutes past five. "He's been late before but... this is frickin' ridiculous! He's the one who asked me to turn up at five..."
He angrily pocketed the cellphone, then changed his mind and pulled it back out.
Ring... Ring...
"Sorry, the number you have dialled is unavailable at the moment. Please try again later."
Beep.
Romano sighed and dialled the number again, once again encountering the lady's emotionless voice. This went on for a further three minutes, until he was sure the phone on the other end was never going to pick up. That idiot never bothered to charge up his phone before he left the house; it was quite likely its battery had simply gone flat. If that was the case, Romano definitely wasn't going to waste his own cellphone battery trying to contact a dead phone.
Fifteen minutes past five.
He decided to head into the café. The staff were already giving him odd looks; better go inside before they chased him off with a broom. After snagging a table for two near the window and ordering a couple of cafés con leche, he settled down and began gazing out of the window, searching the pedestrian walkway outside for him. He wasn't used to settling down for a coffee- in Italy, he'd always order it to go. That tomato brain alwaysinsisted on dragging someone along to some random café for a good long chat... and every time he did, he never failed once to arrive late. Still, he'd never been late for over ten minutes before. For him to be this late, something must have come up at the last minute.
Five minutes later, Romano's café con leche arrived. Still no sign of him. Even the coffee was more punctual than he was...
Romano slowly sipped his coffee, careful not to attract any attention. If he did, someone would realise that he was alone with two coffee cups at 5.20 pm and ask some awkward questions. Considering his situation at the moment, he'd rather not have that.
He pulled his phone out again and dialled the number once more.
Nothing had changed.
Something was wrong.
That was when he suddenly thought of asking around. Maybe something was holding him up? He knew that guy would never miss a chance for a coffee with the great Italy Romano, so whatever that something was had to be extremely urgent.
He dialled another number on his phone.
Ring... Ring...
Clack.
"Fratello? Where are you?"
"At the café... He hasn't come yet. He's twenty-three minutes late, dammit! Do you know where he is right now?"
"Um... mi dispiace, but I don't know. Have you called him to check?"
"What do you think I've been spending twenty minutes on?! I think his dumb phone is dead or something."
"Oh... of course. Maybe he's stuck in a jam or something?"
"A jam, in his own house? He always walks here. ALWAYS. He has no frickin' excuse to be late!"
"Call someone else who might know, then? Maybe big brother France. Or his own fratello! They're his neighbours-"
"I'm not calling that bastard! I'm going to wait for him a while longer. When he finally shows up, I'm so going to kick his ass!"
"Okay, fratello..."
Beep.
That call had taken up a hundred and eighty seconds of his time. In that period, nothing had changed.
The second café con leche was getting cold.
He stared at his phone screen for a while, contemplating Veneziano's suggestion. Almost half an hour had passed; now he was sure something had happened.
He dialled yet another number.
Ring... Ring...
Clack.
"Oui?"
"DO YOU KNOW WHERE THAT BASTARD IS?!"
"Mon dieu, Romano. There's no need to yell. Are you telling me he hasn't arrived yet?"
"Duh. He's half an hour late! Veneziano said you'd know where he is, so you better have something!"
"Oh. Oh... no..."
"What's that supposed to mean..."
"He was with me and Prussia earlier... just a small gathering. He was supposed to meet you at five o'clock, right? There was this yellow Post-It note in his wallet with the meeting time written on it. You mean to tell me he hasn't arrived after half an hour?"
"I just told you that, dammit."
"Oh my... He would never be so late meeting you for any reason. He told us he had no other plans afterwards, so..."
"So what?"
"...Something bad must have happened. I'm going over to his house to check... I'll call you back when I find him."
"Fine. You better be quick about that, my damn coffee's getting cold over here!"
Beep.
Another four minutes gone. Nothing had changed; he still hadn't arrived.
Romano's cup was empty. The other cup was still full to the brim, only it wasn't steaming any more.
He waited.
A waiter arrived at his table, asking if he was going to drink his coffee. He said no, its intended recipient hadn't arrived yet. The waiter gave him a funny look, then left to bother the other customers.
It was a full ten minutes before France called back.
"Um, Roma-"
"WHERE IS HE?!"
"Ah, about that... Big Brother couldn't find him anywhere."
"What's that supposed to mean?!"
"I'm in his house right now... He's not here. The living room is in a mess... mon dieu, what happened to this couch..."
Something had happened.
"The heck?! He's not at home?"
"No, Romano, I'm afraid not. The way I see it, it looks like someone broke into his house when he got home and... and..."
No. No. Don't say it.
"...took him away."
That was why he hadn't turned up. Now that he knew why, he wished he didn't.
The coffee had gone cold.
Spain had gone missing.