I own nothing Hetalia related.

Sorry but the chapters are going to be slightly short until I can get better with details and ideas. I never actually planned to continue so the plot is still forming. I hope you all enjoy~! ^^


One… two… three… splash.

The stone sunk to the bottom of the lake, enveloped by the ever-ensnaring darkness.

Italy groaned and sank to the ground. Not twenty-four hours had passed and he had been banned from every country but the northern part of his own. Still shocked at everything that happened, Italy did what he was best at doing, surrendering and fleeing like the coward he was. He realized this.

Another stone, another toss, four skips, sink.

Italy had done his best to suppress the insane persona that had been created in his mind. Italy didn't know when it was show up again or if he'll even be prepared. He didn't know and he really didn't care what the thing did to him. He just had to make sure it never harmed his friends. The thirst for revenge and suffering was great inside the persona.

The quiet peace was nice, though. Just to sit back, relax, and think while Italy had the chance. His mind raced back to the incidents that happened over the last few weeks. Italy didn't understand what the big fuss was all about. Nothing had just seemed to go right, like everyone was turning against him slowly. He knew he did a few things to upset everyone, but they were countries, not humans. Stuff like this happened all the time. Why did it ever matter now?

Italy had gripped the stone hard, turning his knuckles ghost white in the glowing moonlight. He tossed the flat stone with such force that it skipped halfway across the lake before submerging. Pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in them, he wanted to cry it still hurt so horribly. The slash on his face had stopped bleeding, slightly, but it still stung as an unfortunate reminder of who dealt the blow to him. His heart churned and twisted with pain it was nearly unbearable. He wondered how anyone could survive anything like this.

Well, he was still alive. All right, how anyone could ever survive the insanity that this would result in if they snapped completely. Oh, but Germany would~ he thought in his mind. Germany's the strongest— He groaned and cried out as the pain in his chest increased with every beat of his aching heart.

"You can end it, you know," the deeper voice within him spoke through him. It gave a crazed chuckle before continuing. "It's not that hard really. All you have to do is go to sleep and let me handle things… Yes, like that. Just close those damned innocent eyes of yours and I'll soon be able to spill their blood all over their own countries. Come on. Just a little more and I'll soon—"

"No!" Italy's eyes shot open, fear flooded his vision, blurring it. Everything blended together, not seeming to let up. Images swirled together and crashed against one another. All the blurring started giving him a headache, worse than before even. Shutting his eyes tight and covering his head with his hands, Italy closed the rest of the world off to him. His heart beat like a war drum in his head. Voices whispered, growing louder and louder with every passing second.

The distraught laughter of the persona echoed through his mind, hitting and subduing whatever sanity he had left. Italy's entire body numbed as the world around him was swallowed in darkness. Slowly opening his eyes, Italy looked up to see it hovering over him. The persona was dressed in a midnight black suit, smeared with several stains too old and dark for Italy to tell what they were. A white shirt was tucked clean underneath the suit with a blood red tie pressed against it. The suit was complete with black slacks and well polished midnight boots.

Italy stood, speaking, "I'm never going to let you win this." The persona shifted, putting the weight on its other leg, arms crossed, still giving Italy that smile, that god-awful, demonic, overpowering smile. It seemed to be amused with Italy's efforts to control it. Italy scowled. "As long as I still have some reason to live for, I will never give up!"

"A reason?" it questioned in disbelief and delight. "HA! That's what you think, don't'cha? They don't consider you a friend anymore, brat. They don't even see you as a nation." Its goal was simple: get in Italy's head and convince him, more like tell him the truth. Oh what fun it will be to break the Italian down and watch him beg, plead for the insanity to take him over, to end his suffering and pain.

"That doesn't matter anymore. I still love them and consider them friends. That's all the reason I need," hissed Italy.

Its eyes widened as it grasped an idea. Its mouth then curled back into a more insane, sinister smile. "And you think if you make things right that Germany will love you after this?" Seeing Italy's expression was all he needed to keep going. "You loved him, didn't you? Not like the normal friendship love, no, you actually have feelings for the nation. You've gotten in too deep, kid. There's no way he'll ever love you after what you did."

Italy looked down. "You're wrong. I did nothing to them."

The persona put a finger to its chin before looking back at Italy with that damned smile again. "That's right. You really did do nothing." A chuckle escaped its lips, confusing Italy. "Oh how naïve you really are! You never noticed. I've been around longer than this last day, Italy."

Italy's eyes went wide. But how? It was impossible. Italy had never broken down before, he had never had an insane thought cross his mind before. Italy's mind raced through his history, trying to figure out where he went wrong.

1812.

Sicily, Italy. South Italy.

"Romano…"

It smiled, "So you finally understand."

Memories flashed behind Italy's eyes. It had begun in 1812 on Sicily. By the 1860's, it had spread throughout all of Italy. Blood, gunfire, hell all rang through Romano and his streets as the mafia stormed through, threatening to take over. Gangs ruled the streets before they were finally suppressed in the 1990's and early years of 2000's. Even with that, knowledge, they still existed among Italy and other places in the world. Italy realized his persona was the mafia incarnate.

"There's evil in every country, you know," it stated matter-of-factly. That accursed smile returned on its lips. "Every. Single. Country, Feli. And none of them die if there are people who still believe in their rights, in their ways, in their uprisings, their creations, their madness."

Italy gasped, breath catching in his throat. His heart seemed to stop and go numb. All the pain inside the organ vanished; Italy actually found it peaceful and nice if it weren't for the persona in front of him. The two stared, glared into each others' eyes. The moment of silence lasted until that chuckle that drove Italy to the edge came back all around him, stalking him, haunting him. That smirk appeared again. Italy knew it was trying to drive him over the edge, to jump off the cliff and fall into the mist below, unknowing, uncaring of what lied beyond the mist whether it was sweet paradise or just plain fire and hell.

"I know you won't be able to stop me, so don't even try to think about it. Just be a good little boy like the coward you are and let me take care of it all. All the pain and suffering will end soon enough. I can promise you that. Once all of us are restored to our full power, there won't be anything you could do, nothing any of you can do. People aren't how they used to be, Feli. Standards in society have changed, going against traditions and religions. You know this is true. Don't you even try to deny it."

Italy's locked eyes forced away from his insane counterpart's, staring off into the darkness around them. It was true, people were changing with the world. He couldn't deny it. He looked back at how things changed in the last hundred years. Respect and love had nearly lost all meaning in some places. Poverty and war broke out more often. People were killing their own planet, taking their countries with it.

His mind wondered to America. He had been getting quite sick lately. He felt so bad for the country. How fucked up his government and healthcare was. How fucked up and twisted the old motto for the country was. "Land of the free," America had said. Then scoffed. "Free only if you could get rich enough." Greed. Another thing humans were being consumed with. It disgusted the countries how some humans were nowadays.

Italy dropped to his knees, heart aching once again. Even he could feel his country changing. Not as bad as some, but still changing. He never minded it, though. He had always accepted and embraced change. A hand appeared in his vision.

"All you have to do is take my hand. All the pain will end. There won't be anything to worry about. You'll see your friends again, and your lover. They'll be happy to see you. You won't even have to worry about that scar on your face anymore."

Italy brushed the scar across his face. It stung slightly as the images flooded back of Germany giving it to him. "Stop being such a crybaby." "Can't you be useful for once?" "Why do I always have to protect you?" "Stand up and fight!" "Stop running away like a coward all the time."

Italy's eyes hardened and slapped the hand away from him. He stood, standing tall and proud. "Never. I'll never become you or accept you in anyway."

The mafia persona gave him that damn smirk again. "That's alright. I always have the others to count on." With a chuckle, he turned away. "Ciao, brat."

Italy's eyes snapped open. His body shot up and he glanced around furiously. Had it all been a dream? He wondered as he peered out over the lake. It seemed so real, though. The Italian's eyes scanned the ground and stopped, noticing something etched in the ground. Footprints. Boots. Oh, no. It was real! Italy soon realized what the persona's intentions were.

Italy jumped up and started running. He didn't know where he'd run or who he'd run to, but he knew he couldn't let the insane mafia version of him get to anyone else's persona. In the back of his mind, he knew no one would listen. He knew no one would care. None of that mattered. All that mattered was stopping this insanity before it started.


Well then, now that you all know the basic plan for the story, I need some help coming up with the personas for the other countries. I already have Romano, Prussia, and Germany figured out but I'm stuck deciding the others and could really use some help. And I'm open to anything really, not just gangs. Creatures of myth and legend, people in history, anything. I'd love to hear what you guys have to come up with ^^