America had just finished taking role of all present countries that had attended the world conference with ease. Everyone was there for the most part, all except for Romano, Italy, and Prussia, who was off flaunting his bragging rights where no one wanted to hear. Canada appeared to be missing as well, if only the others noticed that Russia had decided to sit on him- again. Sadly the poor country was seemingly invisible in the eyes of his fellow nations, and he had no such luck as he was still being crushed.
It just so happened that at the same time, Britain had jumped up from his chair and whacked France with the stack of papers clenched tightly in his fist.
France had also jumped up, glaring at Britain and rubbing his now slightly red cheek, "How dare you hit me with such cheap parchment!"
"You bloody frog! You don't know what you're talking about!" England hissed back icily.
His arm was raised ready to swat France with the papers again.
America laughed, "Whoa guys chill. It hasn't even been five minutes and you're already trying to bite each other's heads off," that made him laugh even more. He was obviously amused with the whole situation.
England and France looked at America for a good ten heart beats. Then they were at each arguing again as England proceeded to slap France repeatedly with his papers.
The other countries sat in awkward silence watching. It seemed they were all debating on actually stopping the two idiots, but no one dared make a move to try….. Until.
"Will you both SHUT UP!" Germany's enraged voice range across the room. He had slammed his fists down on the table and there had been a rather loud rap of the violent contact.
He was glaring at the two countries sitting on the other side of the table.
France had his hands on England's throat and England was preparing the papers for what felt like the hundredth time in the past two-n-a-half minutes. They looked at the seething country, then each other, then around the room at the other countries.
"…. He's right," France said after a moment. He released the country in his grasp and sat down, hoping to maintain any of the pride he had left.
England followed suit.
America let out a loud whistle, "Hey thanks man!" he said happily to Germany, "I thought they were gonna declare war any second."
Germany gave a curt nod, not really acknowledging what America said.
There was another awkward pause and America wasn't really sure how to react. So he just began, "So are there any problems we need to figure out? New or old stuff, but we have a LOT of old stuff to worry about,"
"Um…. Actually there is one thing I'd like to ask."
The voice was etched with concern, which caused America, as well as a couple other countries, to look up to the voice.
Spain was standing up. Though he appeared normal, his eyes were filled with worry and he looked…. rather unsettled. He was shifting weight back and forth from his feet and there were a few slight tremors on his body.
Giving a perplexed expression Japan decided to speak up, "Well, what seems to be bothering you? I hope it's something that we can work out."
Spain looked at Japan. Then his eyes fluttered to Germany before returning to Japan once more, "You're both good friends of my little Veneziano, right?"
Japan seemed taken aback by the sudden question, but nodded after regaining his bearings," Yes I would consider us to be friends of Italy." He looked to Germany, who nodded in agreement.
"Well, I saw Veneziano and Romano come in the building before me, but they aren't here now… It's not like them to miss a meeting and not tell anyone and if I saw them in here wouldn't it make sense for them to be here as well. I know this isn't the kind of problems we're supposed to talk about but I'm rather anxious to find where they've gone."
"Huh," America thought, "So we've got a case of a missing country. Sound's exciting! We should go on a country hunting adventure!"
The thought was buried as soon as the words left his lips. At the exact same moment the doors had slammed open and a very pissed off looking Romano stormed in. His eyes were practically deadly as he turned his burning gaze on the countries occupying the conference room.
Spain jumped up in glee, forgetting Italy as he smiled to his own Italian obviously unaffected by the gaze, "Oh my little Roma-"
"NOT NOW!" Romano yelled angrily at Spain. The country gave a smile and sat down. Until Romano turned his head towards the country that sat at the end of the table and screamed, "You damn potato bastard what have you done with Veneziano!"
"WHAT!?"
Spain looked shocked, "Romano!"
Romano clenched his shaking hands into fists, "I know you took him! Where have you hidden my little idiot brother and what do you plan on doing with him! Tell me dammit!"
Germany shook his head, "I haven't seen Italy since yesterday afternoon during training. He ran off somewhere and I couldn't find him."
"Didn't you come in with your brother," Spain asked questioningly.
Bad idea. Romano turned his deathly gaze on Spain, " Yes, but as soon as we came in he saw this potato loving bastard and said he was going to go say hi real fast. But after he ran off after he just disappeared and I can't find that idiot ANYWHERE!"
Everyone in the room could hear his frustration and a silence fell over the room. Italy was well known for being lazy, as well as wandering off on his own was something he did on a regular basis. Germany could vouch for that. But, if he had arrived to a world conference and then not shown up; something was definitely wrong in that sense. Italy wouldn't waste his time coming to a world conference just to avoid it.
Russia cleared his throat, "Excuse me but, at what time did you arrive here."
Simple question, "Since world conferences start at noon we got here around eight-thirty.
Italy saw Germany and Japan and ran off with them."
Japan stared at Romano, "But we didn't arrive until nine…."
The words seemed to come out slow, processing at a snail's pace in both Romano and Spain's minds. They were staring at Japan like he had decided to speak fluent Japanese or in tongues. They had arrived after Italy had taken off? Was it even possible for something like that to happen? It sounded ridiculous- was ridiculous. Italy wouldn't lie about seeing Japan and Germany, he loved them like they were his second family.
Veneziano wouldn't lie to me about something like that. He wouldn't make up any lie involving that damn Nazi…. Where the hell did you go then!?
"Romano?"
He spun on his heals to see Spain was now standing by his side. There was this comforting look in his eyes. But he didn't want comfort: he wanted his little brother back. Though he'd never admit it to anyone standing in the room before him. He looked up at Spain.
"I'm going to go find my idiot brother."
"Would you like some help?" Spain suggested.
Scoff, "As long as it's not that damn Nazi."
With an apologetic smile to Germany, Spain ruffled the top of Romano's head. He laughed as he was scolded by the elder, more easily flustered, Italian brother.
"This isn't funny you stupid bastard!" the Italian yelled angrily. When would Spain take anything serious for once in his damn life?
"Roma, little Veneziano is probably wandering around lost somewhere looking for pasta. You know how he easily gets lost and forgets things. Plus if something did happen, wouldn't it be safer to search together?"
"He came here with us, stupido! How could he have gotten lost when he entered the fucking building!? And I don't need your damn help!"
Spain opened his mouth, then shut it again, looking at Romano with a hurtful expression. Romano rolled his eyes, turning away from the Spaniard and turned back to the door. These were the countries who couldn't even settle on any form of issue when they came to these stupid meetings! What help could they possibly be when the only thing they could ever do was fight?
He had to find his little brother… Not that he actually cared about him! Romano just needed to make sure he wasn't ruining something or getting in trouble that would cause another unfortunately annoying scolding from that dumb boss of theirs.
"Romano, are you going somewhere?" Spain asked curiously.
A sigh, "My brother has gone missing and not a damn person in here knows where he went, WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK I'M GOING!?"
"No haga nada estúpido, Romano..." Spain said softly, in an almost coaxing manner.
Romano turned halfway on his heels, hazel eyes boring into the Spaniard, "¿Por qué no te callas la puta vez España? No es como darle un maldito ni nada! Cállate carajo y me deja ir a buscar a mi hermano sin su voz molesta!"
"Mira tu idioma! Sólo me preocupa sobre usted!" Spain said back, a hurt expression crossing his normally bright and peppy face.
The other nations (not being fluent in Spanish what-so-ever) just stared back and forth between the two, not really sure how to react with the current situation that was playing out before them. It was obvious that the two were arguing about something- obviously- but they couldn't grasp what was actually being said. One thing for sure was that neither of them had mentioned the missing Italy, who had been the original topic of discussion.
"Roma, please just settle down and think about this! Before you end up getting yourself hurt!"
Romano gave a snort, "Fuck you too." He abruptly turned on his heels- again- and stormed through the conference room doors to the empty hallway, leaving behind a rather upset looking Spain and many very confused nations.
He balled his hands into fists, feeling them tremble with fury and frustration at his side, "He's probably locked in that fucking Potato bastard's basement where he's planning on doing some weird creepy shit to my little brother."
A scoff.
On most occasions, Romano wouldn't give a damn about where his brother was or what he was doing (unless it involved Germany or one of the other nations he despised with a burning passion, i.e. France), but he had this… compelling urge to go and search for his brother. He wasn't sure why or even where the feeling itself manifested from, but it was there and it wanted him to find Veneziano…
"I don't give a shit about him... I just need to find him! Only because he's being stupid..." he mumbled to himself in some lame form of convincing himself that it was true.
Whether it worked or not, he was unsure…
Shaking his head of the thought, he quickly stormed down the hall to the exit. The extravagant walls and decorations of France's interior only seemed to make his head throb in irritation (probably because he recognized some of the art that France had, ahem "borrowed forcefully" from the Italy brothers back when they were small and oh so very weak) and quickened his pace, hell bent on getting out of that building as soon as he possibly could. Why did the conference have to be at that pervert's house anyway? Who knows what kind of sick things he could have planned for them!
"Stupid fucking pervert and his fucking-"
"ROMANO!"
The loud call made the Italian tense up. Turning, he saw a frightened looking Spain sprinting toward him... wait, SPAIN!?
"Romano please don't leave por favor!" the Spaniard screamed.
And poor Romano was left with two options: stand there like an idiot and wait for the man to catch him, or run as fast as he could and get out of there as soon as he possible could.
Let's pick the latter choice. He darted for the door, running so fast anyone could've sworn they saw a trail of dust trailing him. But Spain was fast too, nowhere near as fast as Romano or his brother could run, but still just fast enough.
"CHIGI! GO AWAY YOU BASTARD!"
"NOT UNLESS YOU COME BACK TO THE MEETING ROMA!"
Romano swore loudly at that comment. Sometimes Spain was just too damn clingy, in an extremely stalkerish manner too! But he was still on the third floor, and the stairs were way too far for him to reach without having to worry about a certain someone who would gladly leap from them to tackle him to the floor!
Gotta be another way down, there has to be a quicker way in this fucking place!
Situations like this always seemed to find their way into his life, making it a living hell for himself and, well, anyone who knew him.
And luck was just as bad.
Ahead of him, he was aware of a very large mosaic decoration wall. It was blessed with a wild assortment of colors and images that depicted, well, France (that narcissist) looking elegant and graceful. Romano silently gagged.
"Romano stop running so fast!" the other's voice could be heard from behind. It appeared to be louder: Spain was getting closer.
SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!
Did he have anywhere to go? No. FUCK! What was he supposed to do with a goddamned Spanish man chasing him down like a dog!? There wasn't an exit anywhere in sight, so was he just some sitting duck-
"ROMA LOOK OUT!"
The voice was alarmed, but came far too late. Before he could even register what had actually happened, Romano found himself surrounded by shards of colored glass, and the dim realization that he was freefalling from the third floor to the ground below.
…Well shit…
