Romano and the Former Nations Club
Dark Lady Devinity
Chapter 8
France barely made it down to the cellar before he heard the clang of steel being unsheathed. The blond nation knew that Spain didn't take his battle axe with him anymore but there were numerous sharp objects in France's kitchen. So France grabbed Prussia and pulled him away from a selection of chardonnay just as France's best paring knife flew through the space that once held Prussia's head.
"Wha?" Prussia cried out unintelligently as France pulled him towards the secret-in-case-of-Englishmen-escape door.
"'E iz uzing my best knives to 'ill you wit." France ground out, his body twitching. Stress strengthened the man's accent. "'E missez his axe."
"But I don't understand." Prussia said. "All I was doing was looking at wine. It's not even his!"
"Romano t'aime."
"I don't believe you." Prussia said. "I mean, I'm awesome, but there's potatoes involved somehow and they were apparently born out of wedlock... I really don't understand his pet names."
France paused as more violent twitches shook his frame and a dark aura spread out from him. Usually, that dark aura was only seen when it was time to go to war against England or, worse yet, when it was time to behead queens that supposedly said "Let them eat cake." Then Spain threw a butcher knife and France was back to his typical fleeing personality.
"Ou never really lizten to anyone, do you?" France yelled, gaining control over his speech, as he ripped open the escape door and pushed Prussia out into the faint sunlight. "And you can't see the obvious either." The Frenchman added as he hurried through the doorway himself and slammed the door close.
Warm Parisian light drifted down into the alleyway behind France's apartment. The two personifications paused to catch their breath before they began their marathon race through the streets of the city. They would have quite the distance to cover before Spain even thought of giving up the chase.
"Gilbert, why do you think Antonio wants to kill you?" France asked. "It's because the clues add up and the only possible person for Romano to be in love with is you. Antonio doesn't approve."
"Then... then I'm in a very bad place, aren't I? Because Lovi is not going to react well to all of this either." Prussia said. "He's not exactly an honest guy when it comes to saying emotional shit."
"For once, you're right. You're doomed. But I don't see why I should be dragged down with you." France said. "So let's get out of here before Spain comes after us."
"Good plan."
XxX
The Italy brothers called up everyone they could think of that might know how to deal with their watery ghost problem: various priests turned exorcists, the Pope and both Germany and Japan had failed to help them. Yes, the situation was bad enough that Romano let Veneziano call in his friends. Atlantis had long since left but one could never be sure when a ghost might reappear. Finally, Romano decided that he had to call crazy, fairy-seeing England and, should that fail, the members of the Former Nations Club.
However, South Italy was not expecting the nature of the conversation he had with England.
"Hello, Arthur Kirkland speaking. I'm afraid I'm a little- what the bloody hell? Get off of me Francis. No, I don't care if the Spanish Armada is coming after you."
Click.
South Italy paused, blinking. Then he tried calling Prussia on his cell phone. Although, he had no idea what Prussia could do to help. But he still wanted to call him. However, that was just as... interesting... a conversation.
"Hi! I know you wanted to call the awesome me but, ummmm... well, yeah. Now isn't the best time." Prussia said. Meanwhile, South Italy could hear England and France in the background. France sounded like he was begging England for protection, reminding the Englishman of all the times Captain Kirkland's pirates raided Spanish ships.
"What the hell is going on over there!" South Italy yelled into the phone.
"Crap! Francis, it's Lovi!" Prussia yelled. However, his voice sounded slightly distant as he wasn't speaking into the phone.
Italy listened as he heard France faintly say, "Hang up! Do not let him know what's going on. We do not need the Mafia here as well."
"The hell? What did you two do that could piss off Spain and potentially piss off Romano as well?" England asked.
"I can hear you when you yell." Italy said.
"Aw, dammit. Why'd you call me anyway Lovino? Did you miss my awesoOW! Francis! Why'd you kick me?" Prussia whined.
The next few moments were spent in silence and Italy could only guess that the two friends were having a silence conversation on the other end of the phone. Finally, someone picked the receiver back up and Italy felt that he was finally going to get some answers. However, now he could hear screaming and rapid fire Spanish that was too fast for Romano to follow. But it sounded faintly like Spain.
"Hello, Romano?" England's calm voice came over the phone line. There was faint irritation in his tone. "I'm afraid that Prussia will have to call you back. Have a nice day."
Click.
South Italy felt his face erupt into a hot red. He was tempted to beat the phone into submission but then he calmed down enough to call another number. When Gran Columbia picked up the line, South Italy told her all about his ghost problem and then he told her about the weird phone calls to England and Prussia.
"Well," Gran Columbia said, "your ghost problem is easy enough to figure out. It's just Atlantis."
"The lost continent was in my kitchen?" Italy said.
"Yes... he's a former nation club member." Gran Columbia said. "But I don't know what to tell you about those strange phone calls."
"But I wasn't being haunted?" Italy said. Then he paused, "But I'm still going to see more of him at the meetings, aren't I? Well, I guess I'll talk to you later then."
As soon as Gran Columbia said her goodbyes, Italy put down the receiver and wandered over to the wine closet.
"Feli, I'm opening a bottle or six of wine. I need alcohol!" South Italy yelled.
XxX
After she hung up the phone, Gran Columbia was racing around her room, searching for the locked diary that contained all the contact information for the Former Nations Club. Then she proceeded to call or email every club member and set up the biggest emergency meeting of all time.
Their matchmaking plan had just had its legs shot off.
