A/N: Hey guys! I just wanted to make this quick little oneshot. It's to support a theory of mine that 2p!Italy and 1p!Italy are the same person, but we only see the good side of Italy. However, he gets knocked out, and this is what happens before, during, and slightly after. I'm going to put a link on my profile to a shot video supporting this theory. In fact, I had watched the video, and it made me think, "what if this were true?" And so, this was what popped out of my demented and fucked up mind. Y'all wouldn't survive a day in my head.
Let it begin~
The Axis Powers were sitting near the small campfire on the island. Japan and Germany were sharing a companionable silence, and Italy was curled up next to the fire, the occasional "Ve~" sound coming from the otherwise still and silent form.
Just then, Japan heard something in the area above them. He poked Germany, and woke Italy. H blinked, stretched, and jumped a mile into the air at the sudden sound of rustling bushes.
They all looked up to see the Allies standing right in front of said bushes. Japan unsheathed his katana, Germany pulled out a gun, and Italy (of course) waved his white flag. America spoke up.
"Hahaha! Listen to me in my total hero voice, guys! China, I choose you!" China jumped down from the cliff-like area above them, and, with a wok and a ladle, attack.
He swung the wok at Germany's head, who managed to duck just in time. However, he fell right into China's trap, as he swung the ladle low and hard, hitting Germany right in the face.
Meanwhile, while Germany and China were fighting, America thought it would be a good idea to send someone else down to distract Japan, who was hurrying over to help Germany.
"Okay, Russia! I choose you!" Russia jumped off the miniature cliff, shouting "vodka" as he fell.
He took his long metallic pipe, and began to swing and block, trying his best to hit Japan while avoiding getting sliced with his katana. Japan had a hawks eye, and his hits would have struck, if not for the fact that Russia was much quicker than he looked. Though, Russia's aim was not as good.
Germany shouted in pain, as China had just got another hit. He had struck the blonde nation in his 'vital regions' with the ladle, and when he doubled over in pain, he smashed the wok over his head, and Germany was down and out.
He didn't kill him, though, probably thinking he might be useful to them later on. Italy breathed a sigh of relief. He was sure Germany was going to die, and what an awful thought that was!
Now, China raced over to help Russia, who was getting tired. Japan, on the other hand, looked ready for the fight, nowhere near tired.
He didn't expect the wok to the back of the head, though, and Italy was all alone.
He felt rage. Rage like he had never before felt. He clenched his teeth.
"You. . . Bastardi!" He began, seething. "You can knock me out, capture me, do anything you damn well please to me. But, when you hurt my friends, you—"
He was cut off, as Russia had slammed his pipe on the poor Italian's head. He was out cold.
- - - Inside Italy's mind- - -
Italy POV
I slowly woke up, still seething at being caught off guard. Not that it was unusual for me, but, still. I wanted to fight, for my friends and for me. I wanted to strike fear into the hearts of every single one of the Allies hearts!
As I was silently fuming, I heard a chuckle a short ways away. I began to look around, wondering where it had come from. I then noticed I was in my Mind Palace.
It was a place I went to when I was sad or angry, and needed to calm down. It wasn't much, just a nice wood floor, white walls, small plants and pictures, and a staircase leading to the upper level. I don't know why there's an upper level, it was just always there.
There was always a voice, too. It sounded Italian, and a lot like my own voice. Only, darker, somehow. I bit more. . . Dangerous.
It never frightened me, though. The Voice, which may or may not belong to a person (I didn't know), had always soothed me, and gave me comfort. Sometimes, I'd see Romano here. When I saw my fratello, I'd try to help him calm down. I always knew that was the reason he was there, too. To be calm. We hugged and talked it out, and sometimes he'd cry. He seemed angry all the time, but he and I both knew it was a defense mechanism. He didn't want to get hurt by anyone, so he closed himself off.
And so, he and I both came here in times when we were depressed, angry, or just needed to talk to the Voice. There were two different ones: The dangerous voice, and the silky voice. Romano always heard the silky one, and I the other.
But, now, as I looked at the staircase, I saw an almost exact copy of me. He had the same features, the only difference being the clothes and his expression.
He wore a dark tan version of my blue outfit, and an equally tan cap on his head, with dark purple feathers hanging from the side. However, instead of my amber eyes, he had bright red eyes. He was smirking, and he seemed almost happy.
It was somewhat disturbing.
Then, I realized that this was Voice who had calmed me or cheered me up when I was down. I gave a big grin, and started towards him.
He walked to the middle of the room, where I was making my way to where he was previously. I started to speak.
"Hello!" I said, happily. His smirk widened, and I took that as a good thing. He seemed happy, even his eyes were dancing!
"Hello," he said, the same cool voice making me calmer than I already was. "My name is Luciano Vargas." He held out his hand.
That was odd, him having the same last name as me. He even looked quite a bit like me. Maybe there are two of me? And the other Voice must be another Romano! Maybe there are two of every country? Cool!
I shook his hand, introducing myself. "I'm Feliciano Vargas! Say, is there another Romano? Because I think you might be the second me! I didn't think that could happen, but you and I look and sound so similar, and the last names, it's the only answer I could come up with!" I was happily babbling when he hushed me.
I tried to apologized, but he cut in. "Don't be sorry. You're just excited. Happens to the best of us. But, to answer your question, yes, there is another Romano. His name is Flavio. But, enough about that, I'm here to help you."
I was confused. How could he help me if he was in my head? So I ask him that same question. He laughed.
"I am a real person, just as you are. I'm a second you, but I'm not your good side. I'm your dark side, the one that lies in wait until you need me. Then, I become real, and I take over your mind for a few minutes to help you in what you need help with. I won't hurt you, ever. I have no reason to.
"Right now, the Allies are attempting to tie you up, along with Germany and Japan. They have a counterpart of their own, but they refuse the assistance of them. If you don't accept my help, you're very likely to die by the Allies hand. All of you." He put his hand on my shoulder as I thought.
Why would they turn down the help of their counterparts? Well, Luciano had said he was my dark side, which probably meant something bad. I didn't want them to die, though. . .
My eyes hardened, and I felt overwhelming anger at that moment. I looked Luciano straight in the eyes, and said:
"I accept your offer, on the condition that I can switch from my dark side to good side when I feel necessary. No offence, but you're kind of scary, and I don't want to scare the others. But, please, help me destroy the Allied Powers!" I nearly snarled the last bit, but I didn't care.
Then, Luciano smirked, stepped up to me, and I blacked out.
- - -In real life- - -
Third person POV~
Italy woke up, and, before the Allies knew what had happened, he was covered in a dark, malicious aura only matched by Russia's own. Only, Italy's was worse, somehow.
Right before their very eyes, he changed. His soft amber eyes become glistening, bright red orbs. He gained a hat from out of nowhere, and his outfit turned a deep tan color.
The most disturbing thing of all of this, however, were the three extra sharp knives in each of his hands. The Allies trembled with fear, except Russia, who just stared in shock.
Then, the aura faded away, and Italy looked positively deadly.
America was about to call a retreat when he ran towards him, slashing his knives with expert moves. Not enough to kill him, just to wound him horribly. Whether he lives or not depends solely on how fast he gets medical attention and how good said medical attention is.
America tried to fight back, and England tried to distract the changed Italian with a sneak attack.
It didn't work, and the attack ended with a knife going through his arm and into his abdomen. It missed all the vital organs, of course, and he just stumbled back, howling in agony.
America had gone down a while ago, and he was now fighting China and Russia head-on. They were the Allies best fighters, and even they were having great difficulty in wearing the bloodthirsty Italian down.
Finally, he threw a knife at China with deadly precision. He aimed a little too good, though, and it sailed right through China's heart. He slumped over, dead. "Oops," he said, not really meaning it at all. Afterall, countries were immortal (unless their country falls, then they just disappear, like Roman Empire.). China would be fine within a few days. Maybe a week.
It was down to him, Russia, and France.
Russia swung his pipe, twisting and turning away from Italy's attacks. France was holding his own, but it was easy to see that Italy wanted to play with France for a while.
Russia slammed the pipe down hard, about to hit Italy, when the Italian grabbed France and used him as a human shield.
France took the blow, and he was down.
Only him and Russia, now.
However, the Russian was exhausted. He felt like he could collapse at any moment. As a result, he became more sluggish, and his attacks became pitiful. Italy finally just grabbed the pipe right out of the man's hands and bashed his head with it, taking down the last of the Allies.
Germany and Japan woke up a few seconds later, and blinked. Then, they became confused. Not the confusion where you scratch your head and wonder, but the confusion where you are so frightened you can't hardly comprehend what is right before you.
It was a bloodbath, and Italy was sitting right in the middle of it, with knives in his hand and a smirk of satisfaction on his face.
He heard the other two wake up, and immediately an aura of light pink surrounded him, and in that aura they could just make out a brown military outfit, a brown hat with dark feathers, and piercing red eyes that seemed to glow.
Seconds later, the normal happy-go-lucky Italy was back, and he looked at his friends. He ran over and hugged them tightly.
"Oh!" he squealed. "You don't know how worried I was! I was also very angry, and my—" He stopped and blinked, eyes tuning hazy.
In his mind, he heard Luciano tell him to never tell them about him. Ever. He quickly agreed, as he had been nice enough to help him.
Italy seemed to come out of his odd trance-like state. "I managed to find six knives, where I found them I'll never know. They could have popped out of nowhere. I was so enraged, I attacked the Allies. I hurt them badly, but. . ." Here, he tried his best to look sad, which wasn't too hard. He wanted to laugh at the Allies, tell them they were weaklings. But, he didn't and kept on with the story.
"But, I accidentally killed China. Don't worry, though!" he said as the others began to panic. "He's a country. We're immortal, unless our country falls. He will come back to life in a day or two, and he'll be perfectly fine within a week."
He smiled again, this time he tried to make it reassuring. The others could only stare, open-mouthed as they absorbed the information.
Italy, their sweet, kind-hearted, couldn't-hurt-a-fly Italy, had demolished the Allies, killing one in the process.
Germany just sat there, not knowing whether to be proud or scared. Something told him he should be proud, but he should increase his respect for the Italian.
Japan couldn't form a coherent sentence. He just sort of babbled, and Germany got the distinct feeling that Italy had broken him.
They sat on the island, the fire still crackling merrily, as if no battle had occurred at all.
Slowly, Italy fell asleep in his bloodstained clothes, followed by Japan, and lastly, Germany, too, succumbed to the blissful land of Dreams, hoping against all hope that this was all some bad dream, even as his mind told him it wasn't.