Italy was trekking through the woods not far from his safe zone. It wasn't the smartest idea on his part to be wandering all alone, but he just wanted to be here. He didn't like fighting at all, yet he was drafted for this game. The only reason that he was chosen was because-
A branch snapped, and the Italian tensed up, looking around. A crow's wings flapped between the trees. He couldn't see where though, since not all of the leaves had fallen yet. He looked up and saw bare limbs scratching at a marble gray sky. It was very quiet here. It looked like it might rain. He really hoped that it wouldn't. It would only make this game more difficult and miserable. Even though he would be stationed indoors, sheltered from the rain. Italy took a careful step down from a small drop in the terrain. He should probably be heading back right about now, but he didn't want to leave this place just yet. It was the calm before the storm, and he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. The white banner he had been carrying was dragging in the crispy leaves at his feet. He stood still for a moment, then he realized his flag was dragging on the ground. He picked it up and brushed the autumn seasoning from the fabric. Italy held up his flag a little bit and watched it quiver against the slight breeze. He smiled.
A hand darted out from behind him. In a flinch Italy had dropped his flag and was screaming for help. The hand was precise however, and muffled him. The man was caged in a vise-like grip. A cackle hissed near his ear.
"The little sheep is wandering too far from the flock~ You should be careful Italy, otherwise the Awesome Bad Wolf will get you!"
Italy pried the hand away.
"Prussia-!"
The Germanic didn't fight Italy's resistance, and slacked his own arms. Italy skittered back.
"Why did you have to go sneaking up on me that wasn't very nice you really scared me-!" The words just kept flowing in sentence fragments. Italy usually gabbed a lot when he was in compromising situations. It had proved to be a life-saving strategy before. Not that Prussia was out to kill him, no. Instead the albino man let him carry on with a mocking smile.
"Yeah, yeah, blah-blah-blah-" he swung up a hand to imitate a chatterbox, "The game is about to start, Italy, you need to go-"
Italy wiped away a few tears.
"-What are you wearing, Prussia?"
"Nn?" the taller man looked down. He was wearing a white thin mesh jersey that fit over his deep blue hoodie. There was a Red Cross in the center on his stomach. He glanced back to the Italian. "My uniform. I'm a medic."
"A medic-?" Italy asked warily.
"Yeah. There will be casualties, you know~"
Italy swallowed a knot.
"Really?" he stammered.
Prussia grinned, "You know it!"
Sometimes Prussia could be a bully, and he knew it. But his big awesome ego allowed him to overlook the wrongness of it all the time. He didn't usually pick on Italy too much (actually, he really liked him a lot), but Italy was just one of those people who seemed to be magnets for trouble. He had to ruffle the bird's feathers every now and then.
And speaking of birds, in swooped Gilbird. The yellow chick peeped on his shoulder and Prussia gave the bird an affectionate stroke.
"My awesome friend is helping me in this game! This badass-" he gesture to the bird, "-he's going to be my eye in the sky! He'll be looking out for you guys. If somebody gets hurt, he'll be the first to know about it~ And then I'll come and drag their sorry ass off the field~"
"Wow, so you guys are a tag-team, huh?" Italy perked up, impressed by the bird. "He's so cute~!"
"A HELL of an AWESOME tag-team~!" Prussia pumped his fists enthusiastically. Gilbird's wings fluttered to help him balance on his moving shoulder.
"Hey, Prussia, why don't you switch places with me, huh-?" Italy tried putting on his Italian charm to weasel his way out of this game. "I mean, you're a much better fighter than me, and I know a thing or two about treating injuries-"
"Ick!" Prussia exclaimed in disgust. "I can't- I'm illegitimate, Italy, they won't let me participate because I'm 'not a country'," the red-eyed man's face twisted mockingly before grumbling, "So not awesome..."
"Oh," Italy's spirit sank again.
"-Come on, you need to go- the game's going to start." Prussia took Italy by the shoulder and led him off.
Italy never picked up his flag.
—
"Where the hell have you two been?" England demanded when he turned from the balcony ledge to see America and Russia emerging from within their fortress.
"Uh, just... tying up loose ends," America scratched the back of his head, brows furrowing. England stared between the two of them. Russia was all smiles, just as usual. If he didn't know any better-
England realized that there was an absence. Romano had stopped crying. He hurried back inside, leaving the two of them with China. At the back of the room, Romano was slumped, unconscious. The other three men had followed behind and China's eyes widened.
"What happened to him, aru?"
England instantly put the blame on Russia.
"What did you do to him, Russia?!"
The giant seemed genuinely surprised by his accusation.
"What? Why me? Why would you think I did it-?" he spoke in his more "broken" accented English.
"Because- you-!" England actually found himself at a loss for words. The only reason he could conjure was because Russia, by nature, had always seemed like a suspicious character. England looked at America.
"-Whoa man, you think I knocked him out?!" the bespectacled young nation stepped back. "It wasn't me, I swear!"
England sighed and rubbed his forehead. In any case, Romano wasn't going to be giving them many more headaches for now, so that was a small plus.
"Right, well, we still need to come up with a plan."
"I'm way ahead of you!" The American piped up, causing England to groan. Whatever this "plan" was, England was already convinced that it would be nothing but nonsense. France suddenly entered the room, from the stairwell.
"'ey, do we 'ave some sort of plan, or not?" he asked, seeming to have been in tune with their conversation the whole time. "Anything that isn't an idea of America's or England's is good enough for me."
"I have more strategy in my left PINKY than you do in a single brain cell, you unshaven Frog!" England snapped. France put a hand on his hip.
"If you 'ave strategy in a PINKY, then you can't possibly 'ave any battle intellect in that mushed soup you 'ave for a brain-"
"TELL THAT TO MY VICTORY STREAK, PRAT!" England unsheathed his sword and pointed it at France. The Frenchman unfurled his distinguished laugh and met his challenge with his own blade.
"OH, I'LL TELL IT TO ALL OF YOUR EX-COLONIES AND TERRITORIES, 'OW ABOUT THAT~?"
England charged at France with an enraged scream.
"ENOUGH!"
Faster than lightning, China took action. He slipped between the two men and disarmed them. England was thrown back, losing his balance and falling. His sword clattered on the stone floor not far away. France stumbled back and smacked a wall. Between his yellow locks, France saw an outraged Chinaman. He had forgotten that China was a martial artist. The move he had made wasn't even anything spectacular, and it was enough to throw them /both/ off. He wouldn't underestimate him again. Beyond China, he saw England on the ground with a shocked expression that matched his own. Then he realized that China was holding his weapon.
"If we can STOP FIGHTING LIKE LITTLE GIRLS-" China bit at both of them harshly, "-WE NEED TO THINK OF A PLAN, OTHERWISE THE OTHER TEAM WILL TEAR US APART LIKE THE PANSIES WE ARE."
America and Russia hung back. Normally these sorts of things didn't phase either of them too much (in fact, fights were a lot of fun to watch), but after China threw that one tantrum before, they were standing at attention.
England, with bruised pride, got up while rubbing his backside. France recollected himself too, ashamed. America decided to step back up to the plate.
"I got this, dude~" he tried to dismiss China, but China turned on him in an instant.
"NO."
"But you didn't even hear what I have to say!"
"We don't need to-"
"Fine!" America puffed his cheeks and folding his arms, he turned away, "I GUESS you DON'T want to know about the SECRET PASSAGEWAY Russia and I found-"
This hooked everyone's attention. The room was quiet, and this silence begged for an encore. America loved to entertain the masses above all else, and just like that he was the ringleader in this show.
Turning back, he grinned with a glint in his eye.
*I didn't want to overdo France's accent to the point where it got annoying, so I only picked out his lack of 'h' sounds to differentiate his voice from the others'.
*Also, I felt somewhat out of character for Prussia (and Italy), so I apologize for that.;
Reviews are appreciated~