Well, I wanted to get back into the Hetalia fandom...
Italy: (shivers) Ve~ I'm scared
Me: Well, you're not in this chapter. You just have to do the disclaimer
Italy: Maveriqua does not own FNAF or Hetalia
The old pizzeria looked lonely at sunset. There were no cars in the parking lot and a lone piece of paper blew around the windows. The building, however was not unoccupied. A curtain shifted as a figure peeked out. A car pulled up in front of the building. The figure's ears twitched as a young man with glasses and a purple shirt stepped out of the car. Another figure came up behind the first.
"So," said the second figure in a British accent, "the murderer returns to the scene of his crime. The figure's voice was a queer mix of hatred and satisfaction.
The first figure nodded as the second studied the long silver hook on his right hand. Behind them, on a stage, two more figures started moving. "Finally," said a female voice, "we can put this behind us." Three of the figures got on the stage and stayed still while the fourth ducked behind a curtain on another stage.
Outside, the young man looked up at the sign and gulped. Slowly, he pulled the door open and stepped inside. "This had better be worth the hundred bucks," he muttered.
It's not. It's really not.
Sorry for the short chapter. It's only a prologue, I promise. I'm working on another story as well, so I'll try to update every week or two!
Please review!