GERMANY
December 20th, 2012
4:40 PM
Prussia, also known as Gilbert Beilschmidt, walked into the house he and his brother, Ludwig, or Germany, shared.
"Guess he's not home…" Prussia sighed, tossing his jacket onto the closest piece of furniture. "Wonder where West is…" He mumbled, walking up the stairs.
When he arrived in his room, he flipped the light switch, not bothering to save some electricity and open up the blinds blocking the sunlight from getting in. When the lights turned on, they immediately started blinking. 'Hm,' Prussia thought, 'the light bulb needs to be changed…'
Now ignoring the blinking light, he realized a bunch of stuff that had been hanging on the wall farthest from the door all stacked in a small, neat pile on the floor. Turning his attention to the probably blank wall, his red eyes seemed to grow two times wider then they're supposed to be.
"No…" He whispered to himself. "No!" He repeated, now yelling, looking at the big Nazi symbol draw in what he hoped to God wasn't blood on the blank wall. As he was backing out of the room, his back collided with someone. Terrified, he spun around only to meet his brother's face, which had a scary-looking smirk on and a look of blood-thirst in his light blue eyes. "G-Germany!" Prussia exclaimed, sounding startled and frightened- no, horrified- and taking a quick step back. "Please, tell me this,"- he pointed at the wall bearing the Nazi symbol- "is just a bad joke…"
After that was said, Germany stepped closer, now standing even closer than he had been before Prussia had taken a step backwards, grabbing his shoulders so tightly the white-haired Prussian yelped a little. Germany leaned in a little closer, realizing his brother was trying to avoid any eye contact, which made him laugh a little. "So," Germany said, "I guess you haven't met my new boss?"
Prussia's eyes then shot up to meet his brother's, a puzzled look on his face.
"Dictator. A lot like Hitler. Remember him?"
Prussia struggled to get out of Germany's grip on him, but had no such luck. He was especially struggling because of the way Germany was now glaring at him, reminding him of his lack of blue eyes and blonde hair. "B-But…but…"
"I know what you're thinking." Germany stated, his hands (and tight grip) sliding down to Prussia's arms. "Of course it's not affecting you," He started, practically reading Prussia's mind, which was wondering why he's not being affected, considering the fact that he's the Berlin side of Germany. "you're not a country or a nation. Scratch that, you're not technically even a part of Germany." He said coldly.
"Bu-" Prussia started to disagree, but was interrupted by sudden pain shooting up his left arm and shoulder, realizing Germany bending it a way an arm isn't supposed to bend. "Aaaah!" He screamed in pain, which just made Germany twist and bend it harder.
"…So what's the point in keeping you around?" Germany whispered in his ear.
"No! Please, don't-" Prussia stopped himself when he heard something hit the ground. "um…what's with that bloody spoon and why was it in your pocket?" He asked, seeming to momentarily forget about his now probably broken arm and all the pain he was feeling from it.
Right when he let go of Prussia to pick it up, he made a mad dash out of there, slamming his left arm into the door frame.
"AHGAWD!" He screamed in pain, practically in tears because of it. "I'm to awesome to have a broken arm!" He yelled, still running for his life.
When he was near the stairs, he was tackled by his Nazi brother, who grabbed a fist full of his white hair, and pulled his head directly in front of his, obviously angry with his brother's attempt at running away, holding the spoon up to Prussia's face as if it were a better weapon than a gun.
"Where do you think you're going?" He said, sounding like he was about to rip his head off.
"N-no…nowhere…n-now…"
Germany slammed his head against the wall, then pulled it back to right in front of his.
Prussia started crying harder, now literally praying to God he doesn't die today.
Getting annoyed with his brother saying dumb prayers that won't save him, Germany slammed his head into the wall again, only harder. "You idiot, praying. Won't. Do. Anything." He said, in somewhat of an attempt to keep his anger inside.
"C-can I s-say a…amen f-first?"
When his head was slammed into the wall again, Prussia just exploded into hysterical tears.
"Quit your crying!" Germany yelled at him, only making Prussia cry even harder, and he got even more annoyed and angry, and held the spoon up to Prussia's right eye.
"W-West…what a-are you d-"
"Don't call me 'West'." Germany said angrily, glaring into his brother's red eyes.
Prussia continued crying.
'Does this idiot know when to stop?' Germany thought.
"Do you really want to know 'what's with' this spoon?" Germany asked, remarking Prussia's previously asked question.
"W-would I w-want to kn-know?"
Germany grinned and shook his head, digging the spoon in the skin directly under Prussia's right eye, immediately hearing his brother's pleading, asking him to stop. But he kept digging it in, then lifting up, and repeating, listening to Prussia's screams, which was now making him smirk and laugh at his helplessness. Then, he started jabbing it. So much that it started bleeding so much, and then…out it went. He'd gauged his brother's eye out with a spoon.
"I really do hate those eyes of yours," Germany stated. "Red is a terrible color. How about the left one now…?"
Just as Germany finished his sentence, the front door, one yard away from the bottom of the steps Germany and Prussia were on the floor at the top of, was knocked down.
"Stop right there, Germany!" Switzerland, or Vash Zwingli, yelled, immediately seeing Germany on top of Prussia at the top of the stairs. "Italy!" He yelled behind him, addressing Feliciano Vargas, or, of course, Italy.
"Ve…?"
"Hand me my other rifle, will you?"
Prussia, having to turn his entire head instead of peering out the corner of his eye (which isn't there…) to see them, was astonished by how banged up the two looked; which it seemed as though they really had to fight their way there.
'Wow,' He thought, 'I've never seen Italy so…bloody…'
Germany, realizing he was missing his own gun, slowly stood up, getting off his brother. Looking at the guns pointed at him from down the stairs, two from Switzerland, and even one from Italy, he even back up a little bit.
He laughed, seeing the bandage around Italy's head. "How's that shot wound?" He asked, not actually caring.
"Oh, you want one to, Germany? Then we'll match!" Italy remarked, cocking the gun.
"That's real funny."
"He's not kidding." Switzerland said with a super-serious expression.
"Like he could pull the trigger on me."
"Wanna bet?" Italy retaliated, finger on the trigger, obviously ready to pull it any second now.
"Just watch out for Prussia." Switzerland said, doubting Italy's aim.
Germany then dashed down the hall, back to Prussia's room, to retrieve his gun that had been left in there.
"Ah! Italy, you think you can take him?"
"Give me ten minutes. Ve…ve…ve…" Italy said, running up the stairs after Germany.
"Ooow…" Prussia mumbled as Switzerland quickly climbed up the stairs after they both heard a few gun shots, then Italy saying 'Ha ha, got you!'.
"I'll get you outta here…oh god, you're bleeding a lot…what's wrong with your arm?" Switzerland asked, crouching down.
"I…I th-think it's…" Prussia paused, trying to calm down and ignore all the pain it his arm, the back of his head, and his eye. Well, where his eye was supposed to be. "I think i-it's broken…"
Switzerland sighed, looking at Prussia with sympathetic eyes. When he stood up, he stuck out a hand to Prussia.
"Uh…th-thanks…f-for com-" Prussia was interrupted by Switzerland slinging him over his shoulder, proving he's stronger than he looks.
"Don't mention it." Switzerland said, walking out the door, then walking super quickly to a car parked right up against the curb outside the house and putting Prussia down in the back seat.
When Switzerland got in, he locked the car and waited for Italy to emerge from the house.
"Wh…what just…" Prussia started, shaking his head slightly. "Germany…he's a Nazi a-again?"
"No, I don't think so."
"But he drew the symbol on th-"
Switzerland turned in his seat to face Prussia. "It might start out like that, but trust me…" Switzerland's turn to shake his head. "…it won't end like that."
"What d-do you mean? And what's up with Italy? He's acting different…"
"Romano declared war on Spain, God knows why, Italy told him to stop fighting because he knew the Spanish weren't fighting back, and of course, as a result, a lot of them are dying. Anyway, after Italy told him to stop, Romano refused and…I don't know exactly what happened, but all of a sudden Italy wanted to help me try and stop all this mess…And no, not just this mess, but I sent in troops to help the Spanish, he offered to send some in to, now Romano won't talk to him. And let's not forget about Austria…"
"What h-happened to Austria?"
Switzerland looked down, not wanting to talk about it, but talking anyway. "Hungary attacked him for what ever reason, she told me she'd give me some of the land if I helped her…so, I did. And Italy did to, a little"
"And he's…"
"Dead." Switzerland finished Prussia's sentence, leaning his head on the window, angry with himself for having anything to do with Austria's death.
As Switzerland sighed, Italy knocked on the passenger-side window, and he unlocked the door for him to get in.
"Well?" Switzerland asked, starting the car.
"I got him in the leg five times and the shoulder once or twice, ran out of ammo, and then ran for my life."
"Good job."
[PART ONE: CHAPTER SEVEN -END-]
