Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Chapter 137

Croatia bit on his lip, drawing blood as he tried to hold his scream in. Haiti was using his magic to draw the bullet out, and since they didn't know what type of bullet it was, they couldn't risk Croatia dying from this since they didn't know if his death would be temporary or permanent.

Haiti huffed in satisfaction as he held out the bullet, and he reached out with his magic again, before he sighed in relief.

"It's a regular bullet," Haiti said. "This won't permanently kill you."

"Great," Croatia gritted out, hand pressed against the wound. "Can you do something about this? It hurts like hell."

"Of course!"

Haiti immediately set to work on trying to heal the wound. Croatia clenched his fists as he bit his lips. Somehow, the healing hurt more than the extraction. Haiti shot him an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Healing magic isn't my specialty. It's painful, I know, but I don't have the time or the resources to call upon the loa for their help. It's unfortunate, since they could have made this easier."

"Why do you need resources?" Croatia asked. "Serbia told me… you guys have contact with the gods on your side, and they sometimes help you."

"And 'sometimes' is the keyword there. We can't just ask them to help whenever we feel like it. My loa in particular don't like to offer their services for free. I need to give them their proper offerings, and I need to invoke them properly. And believe me, creating debt with them isn't something I'd advise. I'd only do something like that for extreme emergencies."

"And an ally getting shot by a potentially deadly bullet doesn't count as an emergency?"

"An emergency would be if a nuclear bomb got damaged and detonation is seconds away."

Croatia winced.

"Okay, I understand that," he said. "How long is this going to go on? It feels like you're stitching the wound shut with a blunt needle."

"Speaking from experience?" Haiti asked.

Croatia didn't answer, because he did, in fact, speak from experience.

"…Okay, so it's not completely healed," Haiti said. "But you won't bleed to death. But I wouldn't recommend trying to tackle someone. And you've already lost a fair amount of blood, so you may want to be careful."

"But I can still help Serbia?" Croatia asked.

Haiti smiled.

"As long as you take it easy," he said. "By the way, I'm pleased to see that your attitude towards Damjan had changed somewhat."

"Yeah, well, Slovenia's the biggest asshole now," Croatia said. "…This means I can't beat him up now, can I?"

Haiti's smile turned apologetic.

"I wouldn't recommend it," he said. His eyes widened. "Still, we need to go help him in any way we can."

Croatia sighed, but nodded. Haiti helped him to his feet. It was still painful, but he knew that he needed to focus on something that was more important. He ignored Bulgaria's unconscious body and left the secret office with Haiti.

The two paused when they heard the unmistakable sounds of battle, coming from both above and below. Croatia's stomach dropped. Montenegro was stuck in combat as well. He wanted to rescue her, but Haiti grabbed his arm.

"Wait," he said. "There's a high amount of magical energy coming from downstairs. I think Ireland found Scotland. It's not a good idea for you to go downstairs."

"How did you…?" Croatia began.

"Are you denying that you wanted to go downstairs?"

Croatia blushed. He was starting to feel unnerved by the younger nation. He was far too insightful for his own good.

"Montenegro is with them," he protested.

"And if she's smart, she would have found a hiding place," Haiti said. "Trust me, you don't want to get in the middle of two sorcerers fighting. You can never tell what's going to happen."

The two looked up when they heard a furious roar. Croatia felt cold when he recognised Serbia's voice.

"That's not good," Croatia said. "Damjan doesn't do well when he's attacking out of anger."

"What do you mean?" Haiti asked.

Croatia realised that Haiti might have never seen Serbia in battle before. Especially when angry.

"He becomes reckless," Croatia explained. "He also loses the ability to think clearly. Slovenia knows this. It would be easy for him to take advantage of Serbia. Especially after he's tired himself out."

Haiti's eyes widened, and Croatia knew that the island nation understood the problem. And now Croatia knew that Serbia was the one in the most trouble. It was clear that his allies didn't know that weakness about him, and so no one else understood that he needed help.

But what about Macedonia? She was supposed to be with Serbia too.

…

Slovenia blocked another strike from Serbia's sword, the smirk on his face ensuring that Serbia only grew more enraged. This was good. The angrier he got, the more he wasted his energy when he attacked, and the sooner he would no longer have the strength to even raise his sword.

That point was rapidly approaching. Serbia's attacks were becoming weaker. It was only a matter of time before Serbia could no longer fight.

That point arrived sooner than even he anticipated. He managed to knock Serbia's sword out of his hand. Slovenia grinned, before he tripped Serbia, sending him falling backwards. Quickly, before Serbia could recover from that attack, Slovenia straddled Serbia, pinning down the other male. Slovenia's legs pinned Serbia's arms against his sides. Serbia's eyes widened, understanding the position he was in, and started to struggle. He flinched when Slovenia thrust the sword, point down, next to Serbia's head. The struggling stopped as Serbia first stared at the blade and then turned his attention to Slovenia.

"I can't believe after all this time you still fall for that," Slovenia taunted. "I guess that was never an act, huh?"

In response, Serbia sent a glob of saliva to Slovenia's face. Slovenia calmly wiped it off with his free hand, before slapping Serbia with the still-wet hand. He then wrapped the hand around Serbia's throat before he could do anything else.

"You're not in the position to do something like that," Slovenia said. "Looks like you're not as smart as you think you are."

Hoping to remind Serbia of his position, Slovenia bounced on top of him. He was perched on top of Serbia's diaphragm, which would already be painful and could wind Serbia. Combined with the hand wrapped around his throat, Serbia wouldn't be able to say a word.

Slovenia glanced up to see if Prussia or Poland had noticed their ally's predicament. They hadn't. Which meant that Slovenia could play with Serbia for a while, but he should be careful. He didn't want to have too much fun torturing him that he failed to notice someone coming to save him. He turned back to Serbia and smirked, throwing the sword out of Serbia's possible reach, should he manage to wriggle one arm free. Instead, Slovenia withdrew a dagger. Swords weren't very practical in such close quarters.

"Now that I have you at my mercy, I just need to decide what to do to you," Slovenia said. "Should I kill you now, or should I torture you a bit first? Or maybe I should keep you for a bit and torture you. Maybe I can film it and send it to your boyfriend. Canada, right?"

Serbia glared, but Slovenia could see the panic. He could also feel that Serbia had a hard time breathing, and he wondered how long it would take before Serbia passed out.

"Or maybe I can see how successful Bosnia's programming is," Slovenia continued. "See how much he hates you now, and how much he wants to punish you for the massacre."

"Bas… tard…" Serbia spat.

Slovenia smiled, bringing the tip of the dagger towards Serbia's face. He placed the tip against Serbia's cheek, just underneath the eye. Serbia's eyes widened and he tensed.

"Maybe I should send your eye to Canada," Slovenia said. "What do you think?"

He pressed the tip harder against Serbia's cheek. He watched the bead of blood in fascination.

He heard running footsteps and looked up. Haiti and Croatia were running towards them. He was worried about Bulgaria for a moment, before understanding that he was in immediate trouble. Poland and Prussia managed to ensure that Hungary and Belarus didn't attack the new arrivals. So, perhaps they did notice Serbia's situation.

Slovenia got off Serbia and yanked him to his feet by his neck. He quickly spun Serbia around and moved the hand around his throat downwards, holding Serbia against him by his chest. Serbia coughed as more air entered his lungs. His breath hitched when Slovenia pressed the dagger against his throat.

"Don't take one step closer," Slovenia snarled.

The two came to a stop. Croatia looked between the two of them, a panicked look on his face. Haiti looked angry, and he also seemed to be calculating something.

"Croatia, why would you of all people come to Serbia's aid?" Slovenia asked. "I thought you hated him."

"Not as much as I hate you right now," Croatia spat. "I saw those schematics. You planned everything of the Yugoslav Wars. Even our arguments. All because he helped Turkey when he was a child. You're really pathetic and petty, aren't you?"

"What?" Serbia croaked.

Slovenia only pressed the blade harder against Serbia's throat and tightened his grip around his chest. He narrowed his eyes.

"You were in my office," Slovenia said. "And Bulgaria was running his mouth. Where is he, by the way?"

"He's unconscious," Haiti said dismissively. "Now, let him go." Haiti raised his hand, and Slovenia's eyes narrowed when he saw it start to glow. "And maybe you'll be able to walk away at the end of the day."

Slovenia chuckled.

"That's why Alvora is so pathetic," Slovenia said. "You try so hard to not kill anyone. And that's why you'll lose." He moved his dagger to Serbia's chest, over his heart. Serbia's breath became very shallow. "I've had a lot of practice. It would take me less than ten seconds to cut him open and rip his heart out. And it would be so easy to destroy the heart then."

"You won't," Haiti said. "You know that we wouldn't hold back once we can't save Damjan anymore. And we'd be happy to avenge him."

Slovenia chuckled.

"You think I care?" he exclaimed. "There is nothing I want more than to kill Damjan! After that, I…"

A face flashed through his mind, and he stopped. Vatican. He'd completely forgotten about him. How could he? Croatia noticed his hesitation and his eyes narrowed.

"You're just like Serbia, aren't you?" Croatia asked. "You have someone you care about more than anything. And if you do something reckless that would end up killing you, you'd be hurting that person. Wouldn't you?"

Slovenia gritted his teeth. Croatia was right. They hadn't seen each other in a while, but Slovenia couldn't do that to Vatican. But he also couldn't allow Serbia to live, or at least, he couldn't allow him to go unscathed.

What could he…?

"Belarus, a little help here!" he shouted.

Haiti's eyes widened and he spun around, hands glowing brighter. Croatia also turned slightly, and Slovenia took that as his cue to stab Serbia in the chest. Serbia cried out in pain and elbowed Slovenia in the ribs, showing Slovenia that he missed the heart. Slovenia reeled back, and Croatia, in response to Serbia's cry, picked up Slovenia's sword and charged at him. Slovenia's eyes widened as he tried to block the sword's slash with his dagger, but it wasn't enough. He winced when the dagger was thrown aside, his hand bending backwards slightly and sending a jolt of pain through his arm. It was then his turn to cry out in pain.

Slovenia's eyes bulged when Croatia stabbed him through the abdomen. He could see the pure hatred in Croatia's eyes. He'd never seen that before. Not even during the height of the wars.

"So then, if I want to kill you, I just need to carve out your heart and destroy it, right?" Croatia asked.

Slovenia's eyes widened, before they flickered towards Serbia. The other nation had leaned against the wall and slid down, but he was still breathing with his wet, red hand pressed against his chest. Still, despite the pain, and despite the fear he felt from what Croatia might do to him, he smirked as he turned his gaze back to Croatia.

"I still win," he said. "I wasn't sure if I'd have a good opportunity to finish Serbia off, so I made sure to coat the blade of my dagger in a toxin we spent a long time developing."

Croatia's eyes widened, before he pressed the sword in deeper. Slovenia grunted at the extra pain as Croatia leaned closer.

"What does that toxin do?" he snarled.

Slovenia's smirk widened.

"A fatal injury from that can put any nation to sleep for a long, long time," Slovenia said. "He won't be killed permanently, but unless he gets the antidote, he's essentially in a coma."

"And where's this antidote?" Croatia demanded.

"Not… here."

Slovenia pulled himself free of the sword, allowing the blood to flow faster from his body. He lay against the wall and slid down, just like Serbia. Croatia's face twisted in disgust as he raised the sword again. Slovenia closed his eyes as Croatia stabbed downwards, hitting his heart this time. He wondered if Croatia would allow him to see Vatican again, or would he rip out his heart? He supposed it wasn't his problem now.

…

Despite the situation, Belarus had heard Slovenia's call for help, and had reacted. They were close to the stairs, and so Belarus kicked Poland down. She didn't stop to watch him tumble before she turned towards her ally.

She immediately spotted Haiti, who was readying a spell. She couldn't allow him to cast anything. Not with Hungary in the same direction. So she readied her own spell and hurled it towards Haiti, at the same time he sent his. And it was a horrible way to realise that he was stronger than her when it came to magic.

She was sent hurling backwards, disoriented and confused. She only managed to hear Hungary's scream before she looked up to see a sword's familiar arc. And she was right in its trajectory without time to escape.

…

Herzegovina had listened to the battle, her dread increasing with each second. It was common knowledge that Serbia didn't do well if he got too angry while in a battle. And Slovenia, slimeball that he was, exploited it for all it was worth.

She jumped when she heard movement behind her, and turned to see that Bosnia was awake. It was actually adorable how he rubbed his eyes, but that just made her concerned about his mental state. He smiled sleepily.

"Morning, Lejla," Bosnia said. "What are you doing…?"

At that moment, Serbia released a particularly angry roar. She could only assume that Slovenia had taunted him in some way. But her gaze was focused on Bosnia, who froze when he heard Serbia's voice. All traces of sleepiness disappeared, and his face twisted in anger. She'd never seen him like that before, except for…

And she remembered that Slovenia had forced him to listen to the reports of the war. And thus, that it was fresh in his mind. This was bad.

"Serbia," he growled. "Lejla, get away from the door!"

He'd stood up when he said it and stormed towards her. She placed her hands on his chest in an effort to stop him in his tracks.

"Mirsad, stop!" she ordered. "The door's locked. But there's something you should know. Serbia isn't the one responsible for the massacre."

"No!" he exclaimed. "It was Serbia and Croatia and their people…"

"Yes, their people did that. But the one that planned everything was Slovenia."

Bosnia shook his head, a pained look on his face.

"Serbia lied to you," he insisted. "You can't trust…"

"It was Slovenia that said it," Herzegovina interrupted. "He even arranged for the massacre. Mirsad, you have to listen to me. Slovenia is…"

She was interrupted when Bosnia slapped her. She looked at him with wide eyes as her hand came up to her cheek.

"They lied to you," Bosnia insisted. "But I won't let them hurt you again."

"You're the one that hurt me!" she snapped.

Bosnia blinked, shaking his head as though to clear it, before his eyes widened as they landed on her cheek.

"L-Lejla…" he stammered. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean…"

She shushed him, holding up her other hand. She gestured towards the door. The sounds of battle had faded, and she could barely hear the sound of a voice. She pressed her ear against the door, and after a moment's hesitation, Bosnia did the same.

They listened as Slovenia gloated to Serbia, and at one point, Bosnia's eyes widened.

"'Programming'?" Bosnia repeated.

They listened as Slovenia was interrupted. Herzegovina looked up at Bosnia when she heard Croatia's voice, noting that he had that pained look again. He shook his head again, and this time, he heard Croatia's explanation for what happened in the past. She hated seeing that look of absolute betrayal on his face.

…

Montenegro had found a wardrobe that she could use to shield himself from the spells the two brothers threw around. For the most part, the spells took the shape of flames and lightning, and from her inexperienced perspective, they appeared to be evenly matched.

She knew that it was dangerous for her to remain there, but she couldn't escape since Ireland was still in front of the stairs. And the two showed no sign of wearing down. They would often block the other's spells with some sort of shield, which meant that the spells ricocheted everywhere.

She wished that the wardrobe was empty so that she could hide inside it. Because she suspected that it was only a matter of time before she was hit by one of those spells.