A/N: Wow, I have a tendency to use Hetalia for writing projects in school... Well, it makes for good fanfiction! This one is for English, and I'm not even done yet ^-^. This is going to be the first multi-chapter fanfictions that I'm going to complete! It makes me happy :3.
The other chapters probably won't be this long, though they might be, I dunno. So enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, if I did I'd already have Russia screwing China- Imeanwhat?
All the nations gathered around the long table of the World Summit meeting, all in their military uniforms. Each country sat in their respective chair. America across from England, and Canada was next to him. France sat next to England, much to the latter nation's dismay, and Japan was on his other side, with Greece not too far off. Switzerland and Austria sat next to each other, across from France and Japan. Poland sat two chairs down from Austria. China was seated next to Poland, and Russia unfortunately was seated right on his other side. Across from Russia were the Italy brothers, otherwise known as Northern Italy and Romano. Next to Romano was Spain, who had Finland and Sweden -the only 'official' married couple out of all the nations- sitting not too far from them. At the head of the table was Germany, as he was the only one who could hold order in the meetings. Past the seated chairs taken by the nations, were multiple empty chairs, which used to be filled not too long ago, but their holders disappeared.
Without anyone's recognition, America started off the meeting. "So listen up everyone! This problem clearly isn't going to stop itself, so we need a solution," the man started off, his words unusually calm. Everyone leaned forward as he talked. "What we need… is a hero! If we have that hero, he can block the world from their brainwashing!" Their heads fell as the American drew a picture of Superman holding the world in his hands on the chalkboard. Same old America, always thinks he's the hero.
America was a man with blond hair with a stray lock sticking up on his head, otherwise known as an ahoge. The man wore a tan military uniform with a brown bomber jacket over it. On the back of the jacket was the number "50" in bold print. What stuck out most about this man, other than the hamburgers he seemed to pull out of nowhere, were his blue eyes. When he was younger, they shone like the stars on his country's flag, even know, in their darkest times, they shone with justice.
As America continued to rant about his far from logical idea, England stood up from his seat. It was his job to keep America in line, not that it was in his job description or anything. Think of it more of an older brother instinct, as he helped raise America since he was a baby. Yes, England was America's older brother. Actually, he found America as a baby playing off in the fields on his land. Back then, the baby nation was adorable - too adorable to have England resist taking him into his house. In the end, America was then noted as England's brother. Unfortunately, because England had a bad sense of taste, America gained that same sense -creating his unhealthy craving for fast foods.
Even though England was older than America, he was shorter, though it was barely noticeable -only a two centimeter difference. He didn't look like America either, as they weren't related by blood. England had thick, thick, thick eyebrows, often mistaken for caterpillars. Though, the two nations shared the same blond hair, but England's was much messier, and he wore a green military uniform. Hidden under the uniform were guns that were used only in cases of emergency.
With eyes flaring like green fire, England pinched the American's ear and started to drag him away, "You bloody twit, that's one of the most idiotic schemes you've ever came up with! You brainless, egotistical, pain-in-the-arse wanker!" Ever since they moved into his land, England had been more irritable. They did the unspeakable and changed the whole nutrition of the British foods. The last person who did that, an American man with a cholesterol level the size of Russia, ended up in a war with him. However, America seemed oblivious to his words as he pulled a hamburger out of his jacket pocket and shoved it down his throat, followed up with a soda from McDonalds.
"Hey, hey, Old Man, you need to seriously chill out, this plan is flawless," the blue-eyed man patted the older nation on the back, who growled at his words.
"I will not 'chill out' you twat! Take this issue seriously for once!" England started to shake America by the shoulders. Another man with wavy blond hair couldn't help but spy on their fight, as there was no other form of entertainment in the room.
Francis Bonnefoy, otherwise known as France, smirked at the sight of America and England fighting. It was entertaining for him to watch those nations fight, as it usually resulted to the two of them exchanging insults, as they were now. When England started to jump up and down in anger, he pulled a red rose out from the pocket of his blue overcoat. He rose from the table and walked over to his favorite nation of all time, England. Despite the rivalry the two have, France always had a soft spot for England, note the sarcasm, he just... couldn't express it well.
"You should watch your language towards young Alfred," France said, wrapping an arm around the American, using his human name, "After all, wasn't it you who raised him?"
England grounded his teeth in irritation. "Watch it you French toad! At least I don't go around trying to pick up any living creature I see on the street!"
"Like you could," scoffed France, "You're just a punk. Oh, you may hide it underneath all of that clothing, but deep down you're nothing more than a delinquent, a trouble maker... a pirate."
"Shut the bloody hell up you bloody git!" England leaped from his place of kicking America in the stomach to strangling France. Meanwhile, America laughed at the scene before him. It was a huge shocker for him to hear that his 'older brother' was a pirate. Then again, he had heard rumors from Spain that the two used to duke it out on pirate ships, until the English nation finally whooped his 'arse' in a battle of canons.
While the blond countries were in the middle of a wrestling match, with America cheering from the sidelines, those seated looked upon then with a look of pure irritation. Was it really a time for the original nations to be fighting? No, it was a time for them to prepare for war!
Eventually, a golden-skinned man stood up from his seat, eyes closed while trying to keep his temper under control. In his hand was a bowl of food - snacks from his own country. "You three, eat some snacks and calm down, aru!" It was his way of creating peace; through food. His country did take pride in the food they made. A perfect blend of herbs and spices, aru.
The fighting men replied, "Don't want any." The golden-skinned man sighed and returned to his seat.
That man was China, or to the other countries, Wang Yao. And even though he was older than four-thousand years, he looked younger than twenty. With his black hair tied back into a ponytail, large golden eyes, and round face, he could've easily been mistaken for a woman. A certain Russian did so when the two first met. Let's just say China has held a grudge ever since. He never let things slide easily, which was why he couldn't trust Japan as his little brother any more.
When China sat back down, a gloved hand patted his shoulder. He turned around to come face-to-face with a pale-skinned, blond-headed man. "Aiyaaah! Russia, I've told you not to touch me, aru!"
"But Yao-Yao," the man replied, "I have no one left to torment now that Lithuania and Latvia are gone, dа." The man apologized, though through the apology his violet eyes glinted mischievously. Underneath the table, the man gripped a bloodied water pipe, but while he was seated in front of the other nations, he held a kind smile.
That man was one nation you wouldn't want to upset. He was Russia. A man with a soft smile and an innocent face. Underneath that all was a mind that loved to torment. Back in the olden times of the Soviet Union, Russia was able to order the smaller nations what to do. They would follow his orders without question. If they didn't, they were considered dead the next day. First time the nations met Russia, they instantly knew to never, ever, anger him, it was an unspoken law. Though, no one could tell what he was thinking, as his eyes were hard to read.
At the sight of Russia's smile, China stiffened. After years of the Russian nation pursuing him to "become one with mother Russia, dа" he knew how to read the man. He knew well enough when the taller country was ready to break his friendly exterior. He knew when the taller nation was ready to let his sadistic side take over. It had been seconds since the Russian man talked, and his smile was slowly disappearing. If China didn't respond, a passer-by would see a long-haired, hazel-eyed, Chinese man in the gutter, body beaten to a bloody pulp with a water pipe not too far from the body the next day.
Able to put a small, and shaky, smile on his face, China faced Russia respectfully. "Yes, it's a shame they're gone. Estonia, Belarus, and Ukraine are gone was well aren't they? Your house must be empty, aru."
"Da, it is empty. It is... Lonely, as their cries of suffering aren't echoing in the halls anymore. Quite lonely, da," Russia looked down at the table, suddenly finding the wooden surface interesting. Inwardly, China panicked. A sad Russia. Russia, sad. Russia was sad. Not good.
China hesitantly patted Russia on the shoulder, trying to comfort him. "Aiyah, maybe you should visit my house Russia, aru," he offered hurriedly, trying to calm the nation down. In response Russia's eyes lightened up. He looked like a little kid who just got a puppy. What a relief.
"That would be very nice of you Yao-Yao, da," Russia's mood suddenly switched to anger, "But do you even mean it? After all, all you call me is Russia. I thought we were friends Yao-Yao. If you really want me to visit your house, then call me by my real name." That man, always trying to get closer to him. After Russia finished talking, China made a mental note to keep a safe distance for when they returned to his house.
"Oh, sorry... Ivan. I had no idea that offended you. My deepest apologies, aru." That made Ivan smile, and he clasped China on the shoulder. He shouted something in his native tongue, and returned his attention to two men who sat across from him. Two new targets; the Italy brothers. China followed Russia's eyes and sighed. "Oh no," he thought to himself, "May their god have mercy on their souls." Even though it was none of his business, and because there was nothing else to do in the meeting, the older nation watched Ivan interact with the Italy brothers.
Italy was doing his normal business among meetings. Which mostly included daydreaming about pasta, as most Italians did. He hoped to make a big batch of pasta for Germany and himself. Luckily the two of them patched up their relationship after World War II. Italy was so sure that he'd never be friends with the muscular nation ever again, especially since he surrendered to the Allied Forces in the end. Those worries were cast aside though. China was glad to see the two friends again, though it didn't go unnoticed that they weren't as close.
"That neve bastardo maledetto," his brother Romano muttered next to him. Oh, he was mad again. Though, it was usual. The two had been stuck in the room for what seemed like eternity. Actually, it was close to eternity, as the nations had been locked in the summit meeting since they infiltrated their countries. There was no where else for them to go, so they've been cooped up. China knew that the older of the two brothers hated being next to Spain for more than an hour. Romano originally never went to World Summit meetings, as his brother was the country of Italy. Though, when they invaded, Italy forced Germany to allow him to attend.
It boggled his mind how the two Italy brothers were completely different in personality, even though they were the same nation, and the only brothers directly related by blood. Though, he guessed it was expected. Since the two were kids, after the fall of the Roman Empire, they were governed differently. Italy was originally taken away from his home to live with his grandpa Rome, where he learned art and cooking. After Rome fell, Italy was taken over by Austria. Meanwhile, Romano was taken under the care of their older brother Spain.
Speaking of Spain, the curly haired nation was leaning back in his chair, in a similar position as Greece, who was sleeping next to Japan. The Spaniard appeared to be lost in thought. Well, he looked lost in thought, but for all China knew, he could've been asleep as well. Just seeing the people around him sleep was causing his eyelids to droop. Anyways, China averted his eyes back to the Italy brothers.
"Hey, Fratello, when do you think we can come home, ve?" Italy leaned into his brother's personal space. China groaned when he saw the younger of the two try to bombard the older with simply annoying questions. The anger on Romano's face completely flew over Italy's head. The younger half of Italy just couldn't read the atmosphere. Never could, and most likely never will. Sure, he liked the Italian nation for their food, but they were difficult to put up with. They couldn't respect their elders, couldn't be in a fight without waving a white flag within the first five minutes, and only slept when it came to working. Not that he'd say that out loud. No, China would keep his thoughts to himself. No need to start another war, nope.
As the two brothers conversed, a shadow appeared behind them. It stretched to the ceiling, and the only features visible were the violet eyes that bore down on them. A voice chuckled in their ears, "Kol kol kol kol." The eyes of the brothers widened, and they turned around to face the shadow, expecting a monster. Instead of a terrifying monster trying to eat their souls, the shadow turned out to be Russia. Not that there was much of a difference.
"You two forget your worries and become one with mother Russia. It is destined, da." The more he talked, the more the Italy brothers squirmed, even Romano. Yes, under the tough, constantly swearing exterior, he couldn't stand fights, let alone being in the same breathing space as Russia. No nation was more intimidating, as he was the tallest out of all nations, and who couldn't forget what happened to Latvia when he accidentally forgot to pick up his dry cleaning.
"U-U-Uh, R-R-Russia, h-h-how nice t-to s-s-see y-y-ou," Italy managed to stutter while shaking like a leaf. Romano wasn't in a much better state, though he could at least look at Russia's face, while Italy just closed his eyes. The younger was on the verge to tears. Oh yeah, he was a bit of a cry-baby too.
Seeing their distress, Russia only smiled more, "What's wrong? Surely you too are happy to see me, da?" In response the brothers just cried out, though the other nations made no move to help them. After all, Russia was just being Russia. It was a nice change from the robotic state he had been in for the past few weeks.
"Aiyaah! Ivan! Stop trying to harass Italy and Romano, aru!" China had reached his limit and wanted the two brothers to stop crying. "If you keep this up, another war will break out! We can't risk losing any more countries! Look at what we've got left, aru!" A hand swept over the other nations, gesturing the low number of people there. Normally, there would've been hundreds of nations there. No one could hold one conversation at a time because of it. Now, even the deafest of nations could hear a pin drop in the room.
Russia just smiled at China. "Alright, da. I'll stop, but eventually they'll come to me, for it is destined for all nations to become one with mother Russia," he concluded then sat back down at his seat. Finally, aru.
Apparently Germany seemed to have reached his limit also, for he stood up from his chair. "LISTEN UP!" His voice echoed through the meeting room. The roar even broke apart England and France from their fighting, even America stopped from stuffing his face with hamburgers. "Okay, we all know the tragedy that has swept across our lands. Our friends and family have all passed away, and it's been a terrible loss," at his words all nations looked at the hands in their laps. They've all lost family. Lichtenstein, the adoptive sister of Switzerland passed away not too long ago, and Austria's wife, Hungary ended up in the same fate. The two nation's couldn't hold their land together, so the old-friends-turned-enemies were forced to join houses. Though the bonds of the houses in the Soviet Union died off long before, they continued to keep in touch with Russia -let's just say he had a… very effective way of persuading someone. Even Russia's sisters, Belarus and Ukraine died off as well. Taiwan, Korea, and Thailand, the younger brothers and sisters to China were killed. Then there was Germany's older brother, Prussia, who was the first to die.
Germany continued, "We need to drive these murderers off our land, off the world! We need a plan, and not some childhood fantasy of an inhuman superhero America. A real plan. We need to build up our numbers, but we need to find a way how. They have found our strength. That we depend on each other. Though they see that as a weakness, and they plan to take each one of us out because of it. Anyone, we need a plan. We need to sto-" his words were cut off, as the doors that lay to the side of the room burst open, a strong gust of wind filled the room, knocking all the nations out of their seats and onto the floor. They all cried in surprise and shielded their eyes from the debris of leaves and wood.
A man clad entirely in a medieval suit of armor entered the room. Spikes protruded from the shoulder, knee, and elbow plates of the suit, and the metal was entirely black. A red cape billowed behind him, China could've sworn he was the new age of Spartans. The man in the armor had hair that seemed to defy gravity. Blood-red eyes scanned the room, power seemed to radiate from them. Metal clanked against metal as the armored man stood in front of Germany's feet.
That man, he was leader of them. Their name was unknown, for no one spoke of it. When they arrived, they just knew what they were. They were "Narcisistica bastardi egoisti" according to Romano: narcissistic selfish bastards. When seeing them for the first time, the only thought China had was "How dare they disrespect their elders, aru!" For they had knocked the old nation over while he was shopping for noodles. That wasn't even the worst of it. The worst happened when they started to kill those who didn't obey his rules. And those people were - yep, you guessed it, the nations.
The Leader looked at the nations once again, his eyes turned into slits in a glare. China cringed, he's seen that glare once before. And if he had a choice to either be stabbed by thousands of knives, or have that man glare at him, he'd choose the knives.
His voice rang out, and the walls shook violently at his words. "To whoever assembled this meeting shall be punished." From the back of his head China heard Italy choke back a sob. "Well then, who was it?"
A/N: First part done! And I do not know Italian, I used an online translator. Gaaah, so much more to write _, I hope I get this done before Monday (that's when it's due).