First of all, let me thank the two people who added me to their story alerts-it means so much to me to know that someone likes my story enough to put it on their story watch and display that they want it to continue. It persuaded me enough to write more XD. Also, thank you to my friends for being interested in my fiction XD. It puts spirit in mah writing ^_^.
Secondly, long chapter today. I planned badly, so I had to mesh two chapters.
On we go!
Hetalia does not belong to me. It belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.
More swearing and violence. And stereotypes and Romano's potty-mouth, but that can be expected from Hetalia XD.
"You're not my mother, old man, stop obsessing over how I act!"
"No, America, I'm not your mother, but I used to act in loco parentis of you. I am practically a father figure. It is my duty to worry. If you act like some sort of…hooligan, then it will be extremely humiliating for me,"
"Dude, you're not anymore-"
"BASTARD!"
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"Shut up, shut up…you only wanted rid of me, didn't you, you only~" England threw himself at America's chest, beating it, hands balled up and tears starting to seep from his eyes, America looked down on the blonde man and put his arms round his waist.
"Shhhh…" England's crying lessened, but his body still quivered in his arms. "Cheer up, and, er, what time is it?"
England sniffled before looking down at the watch on his left wrist.
"10:30."
"Crap, really?"
"Mm hm."
"We've been arguing for a long time."
"Mmm…"
"We should go."
"Mmm"…
"Say, have you seen Canada recently? If we're gonna go back to the hotel then we should at least bring Canada with us."
"That's a good point, America." England wiped the tears off his face, "Did he speak to you?"
"I think he said something about going outside."
They looked towards the door and both moved to it at the same time.
"Canada?"
America opened the door of the pub, expecting his twin to be sitting there, or maybe standing, but all he saw were peanuts scattered across the floor.
"England? Did Canada get anything to eat before he went outside?"
"I think he said something about getting some peanuts.
The ground seemed to rotate 180 degrees on its side,
"Hell, are you okay?"
"NO!" The tears began to spill out of the powerful nation's eyes, "Canada…"
"Shit…"
Something glittered on the ground in the light seeping through the window of the pub. England bent down, telling America not to panic and everything would be okay. It was blood.
"Fuck…" He swore under his breath, this couldn't be true. "America, I have to say something." Putting his index finger in the liquid and bringing it up to the younger nation's gaze, "I don't want to frighten you, but it would be best I said all in these circumstances…It's blood."
"No. No it isn't." America drew back along the ground, receding along the filthy floor back towards the door, "You lie."
"Let's get you home." Trying to pick up the American man was no easy task when he was upset. Grabbing him under the armpits, he hauled with all his might, "How about we look for him?"
"Are you crazy? He's been kidnapped!"
"He could have just gotten into a bar fight."
With this, America finally picked himself up onto shaking legs and started to walk, stumbling occasionally from the shock.
"Let's…look…then…"
England grabbed his hand to stop him from falling over, and so they looked.
-o-
At 1:00, the two had still not found Canada. America was close to tears, and England had a slightly sick feeling in his gut.
"I think…I think we should turn in…"
"No! He'll be here somewhere…CANADA?"
"Stop it. You're hurting yourself and people will think you're crazy for yelling out a country's name at the top of your lungs."
"I don't care."
"You're tired. We're going home."
Grasping America firmly by the hand, England began to walk steadily towards the hotel at the other end of town. The streets seemed eerily quiet for this time of night, wouldn't most people be clubbing?
It hit him.
"America. We need to find a crowd NOW."
"What?"
"Just do it. Run. RUN!"
He obeyed almost instantly, throwing his legs out to sprint to the end of the street, but a cry stopped him. Time seemed to slow down as he looked back.
No. Not England too…
His former guardian was in the iron-grip of three men, trying to fight them off. America could only watch as they wrestled him to the ground.
Now was his time to act.
He screamed as loud as he could, charging towards the attackers, and furiously hitting, kicking, biting, whatever he could do to save his friend, but the attack seemed unfruitful. England was already unconscious from a chloroform-soaked handkerchief and was being stuffed into the back of a black car at the edge of the road. America yelled and threw himself at the car door. Why was nobody coming? He had made enough of a racket now.
The three men turned on him, their dark eyes glinting dangerously, throwing themselves onto the American. He swayed and shook and bucked to get them off his back, nobody had ever have been known to match America's power in person, but three men…he was going to lose.
He could run away if he wanted to.
"No! I'll never leave my friends!" The thought was so overpowering that he had to say it out loud to prevent himself from running.
They had him on the floor by now. One was sitting on his shoulders, one holding down his legs. One had a sickly-sweet handkerchief held to his nose and mouth.
A tear escaped his eye before he resolved to blackness.
-o-
14th December 2013- 2:30pm
"Where are they?" Germany paced up and down the meeting room, "They should have been here half an hour ago."
"Maybe they got so pissed they passed out in a gutter somewhere," The coarse Italian piped up, "And have either been killed in a drunken fight or not woken up yet."
"No, Canada wouldn't do that, he was never much of a drinker."
"But he was with England and America. They're a bad enough influence on him."
Germany sighed. "Romano, shut up. This isn't helping."
Silence. A door banged shut somewhere. A cricket chirped.
"Has anyone thought to phone them?"
More silence.
"Does anyone even have their phone numbers?"
Nothing.
"Talk to me."
France raised his hand, "I have Angleterre's phone number." He paused, "Mais, he doesn't know I have it."
"Pass it over here, then." Germany took the white, red and blue striped mobile phone and scrolled through the contacts. "Who's-Oh, never mind, I'd rather not hear it…" France grinned, "Ah! Here we are!" He picked up his own phone and punched the number into it. And upon finishing, held it to his ear and waited.
"You have reached the phone of Arthur Kirkland, unfortunately, I cannot currently take your call, please leave a messa-"
"Damn." Germany snapped the phone shut, "Well, er, anyone got any ideas?"
"Why the hell did he use his human name?"
"Shut it, Romano."
"Damn potato eater."
Germany glared daggers at the foul-mouthed Italian before melting into silence.
Somebody's stomach rumbled.
"Who's hungry? I have pasta with me!" Ever cheerful north Italy reached into his suitcase and brought out several packs of spaghetti. "I have spaghetti and delicious tomato sauces to go with it, direct from Italia! Plus I have pizza, fruit and vintage wine!"
"Italy, I don't think this is a great time to be eating, delicious as your food might be."
France reached out, "I'm interested in the wine, Italy."
Italy passed the red bottle to the Frenchman who uncorked it with his hands and drunk. They waited.
"I've had enough of this." Switzerland stood up and slammed his hands on the table, "We'll just have to get on with the conference and wait 'till they turn up."
"I agree."
The meeting started, but was difficult to continue without the three missing countries.
"It's useless. It's like trying to read a script without three actors. Plus, I think worry isn't helping."
"I'm not worried-" Began Prussia, but he was interrupted by his brother,
"You say that. I think we're all worried really. It's always a bit disconcerting when some of your company don't turn up. Besides, what are you doing here?"
"It's called gatecrashing."
"Okay."
Japan spoke up, "I think we should go back to our hotels and stay in contact with each other in case one of us sees one of them."
"And what do we do in the mean-time?" said Ukraine.
"We should see more of this city. It's not every day you get to go to New York."
A sudden sound rent the tense air. Static noise poured from the phone with the speakers in the middle of the large table and it steadily adjusted to sound like a voice, albeit a strange one-distorted, high and fuzzy.
"Y-y-zzz…"
The nations looked at each other, confused, unsure whether to run or to listen or prompt speech from the mysterious speaker.
"I- I am-" More static, "I am here to tell you- that…your precious- won't be returning…anytime…" The speaker went fuzzy again before getting clearer, "Soon."
"What's that, like, supposed to mean?" Poland voiced the thoughts of most of the other nations.
"It means-they will-return another day. The date will not-be told. You-can decide whether-or not- you-see them again…"
There was silence, not a nation in the room not hanging onto his every word.
"You…you-be warned- we will send more messages-sages…and one-will be taken."
"On' wh't?"
"Your-precious-precious-"
The voice cut out and there was static, which continued for a while before cutting out completely. There was more silence, even deeper and tenser than that before the mysterious message.
"What a load of rubbish!" jeered Denmark, "What the fuck was that crazy guy going on about?"
"I think he was trying to tell us something," Replied Russia, "Even if it was difficult to understand."
A sob leapt through the air and everyone turned to see Italy grab hold of Germany and hold on like to dear life. Germany stood stock still, his expression not changing, mouth set in a downward curve and eyebrows frowning.
"Th'at's my j'b."
"What is?"
"N'verm'ind."
"I think," yelled China over the racket Italy was making, "that we should ignore this. Prank call, nothing more."
Murmurs of agreement shot round the room and groups that had formed during the message when everybody was stood up started to relax.
"What we'll do about America, England and Canada though, I don't know."
"We should do what Japan suggested earlier." Said Switzerland, "We'll meet up again in a week."
And with that, the nations dispersed.
Ahhh…not that great a chapter now I look over it, but still…next one'll be up soon, depending on how quickly I get my act together XD.
REMEMBER TO REVIEW!one!shift-eleven!1
P.S. It gets better, I swear. It's not all kidnappings.
