Heya! I have really horrible writers block right now and have had it for a while and it doesn't be seeming to go away now matter what I do and it's been this way for a while. And trust me I have done a lot, listening to music for endless hours trying to get inspired, looking at peoples art and drawing and painting myself, also I sat on the beach for hours a couple times and I just let myself think trying to find a way to continue my fanfic. Nothing seemed to work and I still don't know how to continue it. But I came up with this idea that is very very messed up but it's all I have to offer at the moment. This might just get disturbing as I add chapters, so after this first chapter I'll see how many lives I have already scared.
Disclaimer: I am not using the countries real names! I also do not own Hetalia or any of the characters!
"Who shall go first?"
"The Italian."
"Agreed."
Italy skipped next to Germany, who was slightly scooting away from him, as they headed out of the building they had just used for shooting training.
Germany sighed after a little while he then looked down at Italy. "You did good."
Italy looked up at him. "Really?" He asked.
Germany gave a small nod and said nothing more and looked away. Italy's smile widened, beaming with happiness. He hadn't gotten a compliment from Germany in a very long time.
They got to the main entrance of the building. Germany opened the steal door and walked out, Italy followed happily. As he was about to step out of the door he felt himself get yanked back suddenly by the shoulder and a cold hand placed over his mouth quickly. His amber eyes widened with shock and he let out a shrill scream that was muffled by the hand of who ever had him that covered his mouth. He struggled violently. Everything went black and the sound of the door locking clicked in the air.
Italy struggled; his capturer was now taking him somewhere. His feet stumbled as he tripped as he was practically dragged along.
He heard a door open and was dragged into a room. He then heard footsteps that echoed slightly. It sounded like they were in the shooting range now. Italy thrashed his arms, but he couldn't move them. He took in a deep breath through his nose trying to calm down.
He felt his hands being pulled behind him, and then tied together tight. His attacker pulled the material to tie his hands together tighter. He cringed.
"Please." He whimpered into the hand of his attacker. He wasn't to sure what was actually happening and could only find that one word to say. He felt himself be released; now he knew he had a blind-fold on. He then was pushed on the chest, more like shoved. He stumbled back and hit a wall. He then heard to voices speaking in a language not familiar to him.
"W-what's going on?" He asked loud enough for his attacker, or well attackers to hear. The talking stopped. A pause of silence. He heard one set of footsteps walk then stop. The distinct clicking sound of metal against metal reached his ears.
Then footsteps headed towards him, he pressed his back, and hands against the wall behind him. He felt a hand grip the blind fold and pull it off quickly. He blinked, and winced as blinding bright white light flooded his eyes.
Italy made out a figure in all black walking back to the front of the room where the door was and to a table. No not just a table, the table that had all the guns for shooting practice placed on it. Behind the table was also another figure, taller and bigger than the first figure, also wearing all black as the first was.
He watched through squinted eyes, his vision still trying to adjust to the blindingly bright light. He watched as the bigger figure behind the table reached out his hand and ran it across the 'assortment' of guns.
"W-what are you going to do?" Italy whimpered, the smaller figure looked back but the bigger one went on ahead examining the guns then after a second picked one up. Then he or she tossed it to the other figure, who caught it clumsily. The larger figure then picked up another gun, a small handgun. Italy felt a knot form in his throat and he couldn't swallow it back. This could just be some type of antic, well Italy knew it wasn't from the start but it was clearer than ever.
Had Germany heard his scream? Had Germany tried to get in but couldn't? Was Germany trying to save him at all? Did Germany even know he was in trouble? Of course not. He bet Germany thought that he had accidently locked himself in hear…
The Larger figure walked out from behind the table, and was doing something to the gun. Italy knew what. Putting In bullets.
"Please! Don't kill me!" He whimpered. "I- I…" He trailed off. He didn't know what to say. Who were these people? What are their motives? He had no clue. He just stared wide eyes, his eyes practically adjusted to the bright light by now but there was no telling whom the people could be. They didn't look like anyone he knew.
The smaller figure walked up beside the taller one. "Sorry mon amour." Said the smaller figure, the voice dull without emotion. The person defiantly didn't have a French accent despite their choice of words.
He stared. "Big brother Francis-…" He trailed off wide-eyed speechless.
The larger figure raised the small handgun up and spread his/her feat apart. Italy squinted his eyes close. Please miss please miss! He prayed in his mind.
He opened his eyes.
An ear splitting blast.
A blood curdling scream.
~And Then You Die~
Yup… Who could the murderers be and what their motive?
Yup these chapters are going to be pretty short. Please review!
(P.s. I Was Listening To Kill Everybody When I was Coming Up With Ideas Some Of The Time, So This Could Be Why I Have Come Up With Such A… Gory Idea.)
~And Then You Die~
