I was really hoping this one would've been longer but hell, it ain't DX At least I'm actually getting somewhere, I hope. And hopefully as I get more into what I've planned, the chapters will start to grow.

I own none of the Hetalia characters of the original series. Enjoy~!

This place was annoying. So very annoying.

Looked better back in WWII, the mafia persona thought to himself. He scowled at the scenes that played out through the German city. Tourists filled the streets window shopping and wishing to have what they couldn't buy, gathering in the parks and restaurants to hang out and have lunch with. It seemed like everyone was out today. This made him sick. He hated large crowds as it was.

No, scratch that.

He hated large crowds laughing and having fun. The thought of them running, scattering like frightened birds or cattle, at the sound of the Tommy guns distributing bullets across the yards and streets. What fun that was back in the day. Looking at the fear in these sad humans' lives to see it leave them as the strays or direct hits pierced their vitals with ease. Humans were such easy prey it was almost sad.

Oh, well. Things will soon be back to normal soon enough. Not even that damned brat coward could stop him. He'd kill the country and take it as his own. With the other's, they'd kill those fool countries and run the world their way. First, he'd have to get his army out of them before he could start anything.

Now where the hell did that Germany live again? God, you thought he'd spend more time paying attention to these things. Nothing even looked familiar to the last time he was awake. It couldn't be that hard, though. Last he knew, Germany had a rather large house in the area. It shouldn't be…

Bingo!

There was a mansion not too far in the distance. The persona picked up his pace to a jog, the mansion being his destination. He smirked. What fun, what fun, what fun, he kept thinking to himself as the building neared closer and closer. He just couldn't stop thinking about what they would do once everyone was together. Well, whatever they planned, it would be fun for sure!

The persona slipped around the back of the house. There wasn't much to it. Just a big yard of grass with a wall around it. Jumping the wall with ease and without being spotted, he made his way to the building. Turning the knob, the back door, to his surprise, was locked. "Huh." He muttered, "Good thing I still remember this from back in the day." He took out two small tools and pushed them through the lock. He twisted and turned them, listening for the clicks. He was definitely rusty at the technique or he would've been inside by now.

The final click and the door knob turned. Smiling in triumph, he pocketed the tools and opened the door slowly, looking around to see if anyone was in the room. Coast clear so far, he thought as he went through several other rooms.

"Hey, West, I'm going out for a little bit!"

He froze. That's right, Prussia was still alive. Two for one? Oh, he loved the sound of that. The persona hid behind a wall, hearing the Prussian's footsteps come down the hallway. Balling his fist, he rounded the corner and threw the punch. Prussia narrowly dodged the punch, feeling the gust blow centimeters from his face.

"Who the hell are—?" Prussia was cut off by a deep pain in the back of his head. The persona gripped his neck, watching Prussia knock out. He brought him off the wall and let him drop to the floor.

"Bruder?"

One down, one to go.

It was such a quiet day. More quiet than he was used to. Signing off another piece of paperwork, Germany stood up and looked out the window. He had a good view of the city from here. A beautiful one at that. It had been three days and Germany still wasn't used to it. He still expected Italy to barge in at any moment bugging him about going out or if he could make pasta for dinner that night. How the hell did he get into his house when all the doors were locked anyway?

As he stared out the window, his mind wandered to a few weeks back. Blood spewed across the paved streets of Venice. What a horrible scene it was. He was worried about Italy and tried to find him, running all over the city. Germany found him, all right. Standing over freshly killed bodies was Italy, smiling such a twisted smile that even Germany found disturbing. He had locked eyes with the country, something seemed different about him. Like his soul had been sucked from him and all the happiness drained out of him as the blood of his victims ran down his clothes.

As soon as their eyes locked, Italy sprinted off like England was after him. There was no way Germany could've tried to catch up with him. The next day, Germany had returned to the city with his older brother, hoping to get some answers from Italy. When the two brothers found themselves inside the house, they were completely shocked at what they saw. Italy was curled up in bed with a bloody knife, bloodied clothes on the floor, sleeping. Sleeping like nothing happened!

When they got Italy awake, he went hysterical in fright. He had begged and pleaded for Germany and Prussia to believe him, but the evidence against him was too great. It was strange, though. Italy usually never has his eyes open, yet his were when he murdered those people, those innocent humans.

Things just got worse from that point on.

Media flashed with the news about the murder all across the continent. There wasn't a single country that hadn't heard about the news. No one was sure whether to believe it at first or not. Italy had always been a shy, happy-go-lucky coward. There couldn't be any way that Italy could've killed all those people. They had all agreed to have Italy take a polygraph test. After getting Italy to hold still after two hours, he finally answered the questions that were given to him. All his words seemed innocent and honest, some even believing that Italy was being framed.

Then the tests came back.

Every word that seemed honest and innocent was proven false. There wasn't a single country that saw this coming, but they couldn't take the chance to have this happen again. Italy was forced to sit out the meeting that decided his fate. Germany had led the debate, seeking ideas for what should be done. Even though his expression and voice were strong, his heart was breaking underneath at some of the words that crossed the room. Banishment, imprisonment, marooning, capture… execution.

Germany wouldn't have it. Italy needed punishment; he would decide it for him. Even if many disagreed with his judgment they would have to deal with it. Thus decided, Italy would have his country removed from his being, spending the rest of his days as a human, banished from his own country. With help from England's magic, Italy was altered to be a human, giving the northern half of the country to Romano.

That's when Italy lost it. All his emotions had swelled up and out. His slurred and sped up speech was unable to be made out in words to anyone, even Romano. But not to Germany. Germany heard every word the former country had spoke. It drove his head and his heart insane to hear what Italy had spoken of. He couldn't stand anymore of the sound of Italy's breaking heart, unable to bear anymore of it.

"Nein!"

Germany sighed and went back to his desk. Hitting him had gone too far, even for him. Well, not necessarily, but with Italy being his friend… Italy must hate him for what he did.

"Still thinking about him?"

Aquamarines met rubies. The blonde didn't even hear his brother come in. Looking away, he couldn't deny it. "Ja," was all he said.

Prussia put a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "I miss him, too." There was a moment of silence before Prussia left without saying another word. Germany always knew when something deep was bugging his bruder. Gilbert was usually never silent.

"Hey, West, I'm going out for a little bit!" Prussia called.

Germany was curious. Why the sudden decision to go out? Germany pushed the theories from his mind. He had business to work on.

"Who the hell are—?"

Germany rushed to his feet when he heard the slam. He dug a pistol from his desk drawer before making his way to the door. Cracking it, he asked, "Bruder?" No response. Germany jumped through the doorway and aimed down the hallway. The only living thing he saw was his older brother on the floor. Germany noted that he was still breathing, nothing could kill his brother as he was "just too awesome" to die. In his words, of course.

Germany heard a low growl coming from the large living room. Blackie's growl was deep and menacing. Turning the corner, Germany met eyes with the intruder. Blackie stood between them, ears back, growling. Cold, dull, uncaring eyes drilled into his with a sick smile.

"We meet again, Germany."