Chapter Two: No Savior Here
"If I dare shoot myself down, carry me home to finish this."
The feeling and images of war came to the minds of all nations. The loss of lives, the blood-curdling cries for the sake of nations and honor and the idea that they might lose sank in their hearts. Among them all, Ludwig was shaking in his own loss of control. Looking down with wide, piercing blue eyes, he curled his fists, trembling in fear.
Kiku was an individual who claimed to sense the mood. He stood in silence before anyone could react, and first turned to a maddened Ludwig. Feliciano, his apprentice, his everyday annoyance, and his best friend, had been taken hostage by the paradox nations. Kiku knew the German man well enough that he would be careless and lead the battle without coming up with a strategy. It was almost like a part of Ludwig had gone along with Italy.
No one in the room said a word, but just looked into each other's eyes, searching for hope. For once, no nation knew the plan to conquer this new war that would arise.
America didn't even know what to say. "... Guys..."
The shock faded from the room once the young nation spoke. Ludwig finally let out a yell that probably shook Mother Earth.
"THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE!" he cried, flipping the twenty meter table over with no hesitation. Yao flinched at this action. Kiku simply sighed.
"Ludwig-san-"
"KIKU, DO YOU SEE WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!"
The Asian nation nodded slowly. "At the worst of times, it's better to remain calm during any situation. I know that it is frightening about what just happened to Feliciano-kun, but..." he paused, rising from his seat, "We must take action with a clear head. We mustn't go on a world-wide rampage. We need a steady plan. And Ludwig-san..." he turned to the German, who was still clutching the table in attempt to control himself, "... have some faith. Feliciano-kun can fend for himself very well-"
Arthur scoffed almost immediately. "Yes, he can defend himself... by running away..."
Francis stopped his friend from continuing. "Please, Angleterre. I believe in him. As his oldest brother, I have the feeling that he'll be fine and back here again, safe and sound."
Everyone looked up at the French nation, and holding everyone's attention, smiled for the first time since this whole dilemma had been brought up. His grin was full of confidence not only for himself, but for his fellow nations. Alfred copied his grin.
"Ha-ha! Then let's end this war early! We'll fight with everything we've got!"
For once, Ludwig had copied the young nation's expression with a newfound energy. He trusted that Italy would be safe and alive for the time being; until he came in to beat the living souls out of anyone in his way of winning the war. He would decide to call Prussia and his other allies for backup... and with others fighting for Italy's sake, he'll seise the day and live up to his name.
Everyone cheered, and Ivan smiled with uncomfortable satisfaction. Though the optimism in the room escalated, he couldn't help but believe that the battle would be hard to win...
Ludwig looked up to the space where Feliciano had been taken. That blank spot in the air that his best friend had disappeared in.
"Feliciano... I'll get you back... I'll promise on everything I have."
. . .
The Italian nation felt the world come to him, and once he heard a thump on the cold hard ground, he opened his eyes. He lifted his head slightly, still making out the scenery.
His surroundings consisted of just all iron and stone; this was in fact a hallway in a prison. The Italian man stumbled on his feet, his heartbeat skipping every other pulse. This was an unfamiliar, slightly eerie setting. The last moment he could come across was being lifted up on front of the meeting room, but meeting with darkness quickly afterwards. But Ludwig's continuous screaming echoed in his mind. Tears swelled up int he young nation's eyes, confused and frightened.
"Ve~...?"
He paused, but a foot grazed his back to keep him down, then stomped in front of his path.
"Finally back on the rocker, are we?"
Feliciano looked up, his ears picking up a familiar voice. "Alfred...?"
The Italian was almost in an automatic relief. The feeling of knowing that one of his fellow nations knew what was happening was comforting. Feliciano was patiently waiting for a heroic, yet somewhat obnoxious laugh to reassure him that everything was fine.
But his eyes must have deceived him in some way. When he perked his head up, a man with a dark brunette head and deep red eyes greeted him with a nasty smile, picking him up with a simple hand by the rope bind that tied his hands together. The unknown nation sounded exactly like the American nation that Italy knew, but he spoke gruffly, intelligently, and violently. He seemed excited, looking at his prisoner like a piece of meat, the lust of kill in his eyes.
"Oh, I've waited a long time to torture a pussy like you... the scent of fear clings to your flashy Italian clothing. Ya know, since I've got to take you in first, I might as well go after your fucking brother Lovino as well... he looks equally as vulnerable; even more feisty, probably. Scared shitless, I'll bet. You'll both be begging for mercy with me and my monarchy..."
Feliciano's eyes widened. "Monarchy... American monarchy?!" The contradiction struck the Italian in the heart; there was no possibility of this world being realistic.
The brunette howled in laughter. "It's my policy! I'm the oldest country in the Great Eight, and I rule my people with an iron fist! Who needs that democratic crap when you can just pronounce yourself king?!" He chuckled quietly. "Heh... King Jason Jones. I like that shit." His laughter echoed, bouncing against the walls.
Feliciano shook his head in desperation. "W-where am I?!"
"The Paradox World, of course. We're the opposites, well, your opposites. Like, let's just take me for example. I'm handsomer, I rule a communist, totalitarian monarchy, and I have better hair than that other fucking bastard I saw in the spy pictures we took a few days ago. Weak... pathetically weak. I bet I could take one slug to the head, and he'd be down, dead as a dog in a few seconds. Hey... what are you looking at, meat?! Come on, you're conscious, move yourself."
Feliciano was forced onto his feet and treaded across the cold floor, very aware and afraid of the details of dried blood and sharp nails that shone on the wooden baseball bat this opposite representation of America carried. Trembling, he stopped in place.
Jason's temper was about to rocket. "WHAT?! What's the matter?!"
"Just... please don't hit me with that... I want home... I want Rome..."
Jason spewed a hysterical bought of laughter, pushing his captor with the baseball bat. "Oh, you have no idea what fear is. I've been through more wars than your Grandfather has lived through. Keep moving, or I promise you death. Our leader wants you alive for purposes I have know idea about..." he paused and leaned in towards Italy's ear, whispering his desires, "but I'm not afraid to see to it that I have your little head..."
"Oh! Jason! Who've you got here?"
The American backed away from Italy and rolled his deep red eyes in annoyance. "Ugh... you again."
Feliciano shook the image that came to his vision out his head, then looked again, finally seeing that the man approaching him skipping was not fantasy. There, in the flesh, was Arthur. This time, he had cotton candy-like hair, and freckles and cheekbones like a little kid. He dressed in a blue bow-tie and a colorful light pink vest. But what struck Italy were his eyes that contained an unnatural mesmerizing blue and purple effect to them. He almost got lost looking right at the Paradox English nation. The man smiled wickedly, addressing both Jason and Feliciano. He bowed, giggling.
"Hello, loves~! I'm Oliver!" He came in towards the American, grinning evilly at the whimpering Feliciano. "Should I give him a cupcake now or later~?"
The Italian quickly interpreted that as code; Arthur could never cook anything, never mind a little cupcake. But regardless, Feliciano looked down at the ground, whimpering like a lost puppy. Oliver cooed, patting him on the head, nearly going to touch his curl.
Jason slapped the Englishman across the face in annoyance. "Later, idiot. I want to break him first. Also, get France and tell him to be on his way. Tell him that Luciano's spread the word about the war. Holy shit, I can't believe that you used to be my colony..."
Oliver recovered, his smile glowing with a perfect set of pearly white teeth. "Righty 'O! but please, I want to introduce myself to your friend~! If the little gentleman doesn't mind~!"
Jason groaned. "Whatever."
"Good~!"
Feliciano was still in a state of utter confusion. Shaking, he looked up to this version of Arthur, hoping for a change of behavior from the original Englishman, who handles every situation as a proper gentleman and very strictly, almost like Ludwig.
The English nation beamed, holding himself almost. "Again, I'm Oliver Kirkland~! I would ask if you wanted a cupcake, but I left them back at my interrogation area. What a shame, eh, poppet?" He winked at Feliciano, but continued. "I am infamous for my cooking, dental hygiene, obsession with messing minds, and possibly messing with yours! I am indeed the interrogation specialist for this war, for my eyes... can hypnotize~!" He giggled immaturely, pointing to his guest. "Might if I demonstrate-"
Oliver stepped in front of Feliciano, fixing his bow-tie and peering into the Italian's face, trying to catch his eyes. Jason was annoyed to the point where he could smash his former colony's face with his bat.
"That's enough, asshole," the American scoffed, carrying Feliciano along by the chokehold, "If I hear more of your crazy shit, you'll be feeling so much like shit that your grandkids are going to feel it."
"I'll take that as a compliment, love~!" His cheery voice faed in the distance as he ran to deliver his friend's message.
"Whatever," breathed Jason. He pulled his prisoner violently, and Italy gasped for breath. "Please, please...!"
Once Feliciano had gotten a chance of breathing air, he was pushed directly into a cellar, and was forced into the corner, tied up and gagged by the American, and was locked directly inside the iron bars. America laughed manically.
"Oh, you're in a panic now, huh?! Wait 'till little Oliver gets a hold of you. I don't think you're going to be the same. And as for meeting Nicolai... you'll be bleeding more than thinking."
Once Jason left, tears formed in the corners of Italy's golden orbs. The people he had tried to contact mentally had not shown, and he felt that he hadn't truly woken up from this nightmare yet.
Ludwig... Feliciano prayed, shaking in the corner, I don't think I can run away right now... I'm sorry for being so weak for you... I'll learn my lesson, but I won't get another chance anytime soon...