The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive

25— The Blood

~Spain~

Antonio glanced at Ludwig. It took all he could not to beg him to turn around and go back. His ears still rung with Alfred's agonized scream and he could tell by the scared, guilty expressions on his companions' faces they were reluctant to leave the place behind as well.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Feliciano asked the German nervously.

"As sure as I will ever be," he muttered. "Those Allied nations can do just fine without us."

"The war is over," Antonio said in exasperation. "Can't you ever give up your old enemies and get along?"

"You talk as if you've given up your own enemies, jerk," snarled Lovino. Antonio's face flushed and he looked away guiltily.

"Toni's right," Gilbert growled, putting a comforting hand on the Spaniard's shoulder. "We're all facing the same enemy here. We should go back and form a plan with America and China."

"There's no turning back now," Ludwig said grimly. "America's lost his mind and China's too busy tending to their wounds. We're of no use sitting around doing nothing. Canada is the one that needs protecting, overall. Now that he's not there, the best we can do is go out and find the cause of all this and stop it before it finds us."

There was silent agreement for a long moment, and then Japan spoke up, calm and quiet.

"Where do we start first?"

Ludwig looked at the bloodstained ground, as if in answer. Antonio followed his gaze and traced the trail America and England had left behind with their blood. It led out the room and disappeared into the dark hall. Fear and uncertainty settled in the pit of the Spaniard's stomach when he heard the German's next words.

"We retrace their steps."

~Canada~

The little man's blood ran cold when he heard his brother's scream. Forgetting about the room before him, he let go of France and whipped around to face the stairs as if about to run back up to the main floor.

"America!" Matthew shouted, his voice cracking with worry. He instantly tried to contact his brother, ignoring Francis and Ivan, who were trying to get him to calm down.

America, Matthew thought furiously. Please respond!

Canada…

Brother, the Canadian thought with obvious relief. What's going on? What's with the scream?

I just need some time to think, Alfred replied, his thoughts sounding tired and confused. Please just leave me alone, bro.

Canada hesitated to respond, then: Alright. If there's anything I can do to help, just let me know, eh?

Thanks dude, America sighed, his voice fading as he withdrew from the connection. I really appreciate it.

There are some really weird things going on, Matthew commented to himself. He wasn't expecting a reply. America's actually appreciating what I do for him. It must be the end of the world, he added with bitter irony.

Matthew turned back to his companions, his expression a mixture of relief and uncertainty.

"Shall we have a look inside that room?" Matthew asked calmly, catching Francis's gulp and slight shake of his head. The corners of his lip twitched in amusement at how scared the older nation looked.

"Da," Ivan replied cheerfully. "Those instruments look quite interesting."

Francis's blue eyes widened in horror, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. Ivan let go of the injured Frenchman and took a step forward past the threshold of the room, waving his flashlight over the numerous blood-splattered objects. Matthew followed, dragging his former guardian along with him.

It was a large room, but the exposed pipes and frame and countless machines made it much more crowded than it should have been. Skeletons and pieces of rags lay in piles near or attached to chains and torturing devices. The smell of decay hung stale and heavy in the air within. The place was very old; the bones—upon closer inspection—were almost white with age, despite the lack of weather and sunlight.

Ivan fearlessly examined the rusty old equipment, running his hands lightly over dull blades and stroking chains and levers and buttons that could end a person's life at will. He wove deftly and confidently through the aisles of death like it was normality. Matthew delicately observed the bodies and blood splatters, taking more time in examining the finer details for clues. He trailed behind the Russian with less enthusiasm and far more curiosity than the taller nation. Francis avoided the room's contents altogether and remained leaning on the wall, looking around nervously.

"I don't think it's a good idea to stay here," Francis rasped, afraid to speak too loud in the silence.

"Why not?" Ivan chirped happily with a dark grin. "This place could be very important, da? It's not every day that we see places like this."

"That is why it feels so wrong," countered France. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"France must be scared," Ivan taunted innocently. "That is why it is fun to imagine him becoming one…"

"That's enough," Matthew interrupted, before the argument could be taken any further. He shot Ivan a sour look and gazed at Francis kindly. "We'll leave then, if it makes you feel any better. There are other doors we have to check out. Come on."

He let France and Russia walk out the door ahead of him. A rattling sound reached his ears and he turned around sharply, casting the light from his flashlight into the darkness. It illuminated the far wall, where a human's skeleton hung in chains. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head as if to clear it. As he closed the door behind him, he stole a glance back.

And he could have sworn that skeleton moved.

~Spain~

The journey through the hall and to the staircase was short and uneventful. Ludwig hesitated at the door to the stairs and stared at the smears of blood that stained the front of the door. The heavy door opened into the staircase and closed automatically. America must have struggled to keep it open as he stumbled back onto the main level. A small puddle of dried blood to the side of the door suggested he had also stopped to catch his breath.

Antonio and Gilbert stood close behind the German, staring wide-eyed at the painful evidence left behind by the previous pair. The Italians held each other tight, trembling with fear, while Kiku stood calmly at the rear of the group, watching their backs with one hand on his katana. They bunched up closer to Ludwig, feeling exposed in the large, empty corridor.

Ludwig pushed open the door and leaped in, whip at the ready. The bang of the door hitting the wall and the snarls of the companions echoed eerily through the stairwell, reverberating off the walls and through their bodies, making them jump. They nervously put their weapons aside when they realized the area empty, save for the blood, and filed in.

"Bruder," Ludwig muttered. "I want you to take the lead for a while. I will catch up."

Gilbert nodded and both he and Antonio started up the steps. The Spaniard's ear pricked as he caught the German's next words.

"Italy," he said gently, with a characteristic edge to his voice. "I need to speak to you for a moment in the hallway."

"What for, Germany?" Feliciano whimpered as the taller man grabbed his arm and led him back out the door, which shut with another thunderous bang.

The Prussian and the Spaniard exchanged ponderous glances, both wondering what their conversation could possibly be about.

"I believe Germany asked you to lead, not stand and wonder what they're doing," Kiku said slightly icily.

"Yeah," Lovino snarled with a glare at Antonio, "move, bastards."

Antonio and Gilbert walked up the stairs side by side in awkward silence. There were things they would have liked to discuss without the Italian's eyes boring into their backs. At least they were staying on task, which would have been impossible otherwise.

It was not until a short time later, when Germany and Italy had caught up with them that Spain realized with a pang of guilt he should have spoken with Romano too, before it was too late.

Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya

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