(A/N) Chapter 9 is finally here, after being in the works for 2 months! I sincerely apologise for the wait, and I believe that a short explanation is in order here. It's just been college stuff (yeah, I'm still a student), like assignments and stuff, as well as stress and writer's block. But, I've finally written this, and wow, I'm surprisingly proud of this.
And I'm just gonna reassure you all and say that my goal is to finish this, so it won't be discontinued, not that anyone complained, but still.
I hope this chapter was worth the wait, and sorry again.
No flames please, if you hate it, keep it to yourself. However, if you think it could be better, recommend improvements, as well as what was good, and what was bad.
DISCLAIMER - I do not own Hetalia, or its characters; it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya
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Chapter 9: Some Things Just Don't Go According to Plan
In the main building, a man with a small grin on his face was staring, fixated on the flame of a lighter. He loved the way the flame swayed and remained in one place; it fascinated him. The flame, despite looking harmless on the surface, was capable of so much, and the man knew it; it could turn even the most finest materials, and the most stable of buildings to ash.
Fire often reminded the man of the old days, which involved a lot of wars between the 2Ps; those wars being the only times he got to use fire in a fight. The most memorable battle was against Lutz, where he ran out of oil for his flamethrower, and he had to resort to his fire magic instead. He never wanted to brag, but he'd say that he was a complete badass during that fight; although, most of the 2Ps had stated that what he did was 'reckless and stupid.'
However, Flavio told him that it looked cool, so he was happy at least someone appreciated how badass he was in that fight to the death. He knew he couldn't please everyone.
With a sigh, the man flicked the lighter off, causing the flame to vanish, and closed his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.
"This isn't fun," he said, as he went to brush his hand through his hair, but upon hearing the sound of something light hitting the floor, he sighed in slight annoyance. "Why do I always forget about my hat?" he asked himself, as he opened his eyes and picked it up.
Instead of putting it back on his head, he just stared at it with curiosity.
"I wonder..." he started, as he flicked his lighter back on.
But before he could even do anything, the door opened, followed by, "Loki, could I have a word?"
Flicking his lighter off for the second time, and placing his hat back on his head with a sigh, the man, said to be called Loki, looked at the one who had just entered the room, with a small smile.
"Sure, what is it, Oliver?"
Stepping into the room, the Brit closed the door behind him and sighed.
"What's up? You look pretty stressed," Loki asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair.
"Nothing is the matter, I am fine," Oliver replied, as he approached the Norwegian. "Thank you for your concern."
"No problem," he then looked at the pastel haired 2P with a serious expression on his face; which was strange, considering his usual nonchalant and slightly naïve personality. "So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" his voice sounded strange, not like the usual Loki the Brit knew; instead of his usual carefree and happy tone, he sounded grave, a hint of dread also being present in his voice.
Not wanting to mention it, Oliver mentally shook his thoughts aside, only leaving room for his mission. To get the key to the prison building and all of the cells, if he can.
"Well, I came here to ask you for a favour."
"A favour? Interesting," Loki leaned forward in his chair, giving Oliver a look; an expectant, smug look, which didn't suit him. The English-man could sense an unpleasant aura emitting from his friend, which made him want to flee, but he wasn't a coward.
Loki sighed, and then asked in a tone Oliver couldn't pick up on, but guessed it was mockery; "Does it involve a key to the prison building by any chance?"
Oliver gasped, as his blood went cold, and his heart skipped a beat.
"How did you -?! "
"I heard the news, Oliver; I'm not stupid. I know that Luciano has finally been captured, and is set to be executed; and I also know of his and Allen's 'relationship', which would explain why you are planning to rescue him. But I say, what's done is done; he committed the crime, now he's paying the price."
"But it is not Luciano paying the price, it is his 1P!" Oliver shrieked. "Loki, you know, better than I do, that Luciano did nothing wrong; he just did not support Her ideals, and neither do you, or me, or anyone else for that matter. Neither him or his 1P deserve death for this!"
"The 1Ps are not our concern. Unless you want to suffer the same fate, Ollie, I suggest you stay out of this," Loki told him, darkly. "Go back to your room, and don't get involved. If you do - well, just make sure Master doesn't find you."
"Master? But you despise that wretched woman; why the sudden change?"
"Let's just say I was 're-educated', was given the true knowledge of the world," he smirked darkly, sending goosebumps down Oliver's spine.
"Loki...?"
"Oliver, you don't know, do you? You haven't been given Master's gift of knowledge. I feel sorry for you, though you will receive it soon enough, everyone will. Leave now, or I won't be held responsible for what happens to you."
"Why are you - "
"I won't tell you again."
Oliver didn't know what was going on; why was Loki acting strange all of a sudden? He was fine when the Brit entered. Judging by how the conversation was going, Oliver knew that Loki wouldn't give him the key, but he had to try.
He had to ask, to avoid anyone getting hurt.
With a deep breath, he said, "So, you are not going to hand me the key?"
"No. Leave."
And that was it...
No.
With a loss of what to do, Oliver left the room, slamming the door behind him. He couldn't give up; neither Feli, or Luciano deserved this. He had to tell the other 2Ps, and conduct a plan to get that key.
(...)
America looked at the map closely, trying to think of a plan to save Italy. Luciano had told him that Italy was in the second cell on the third floor; cell 302 to be exact. He had also stated that security wasn't as tight as it should be, meaning getting to the Italian would be a piece of cake. As good as that was to the American, he would have liked it if the main bad guy put up some form of a fight; like tighten security, or place traps involving lazer beams. He wasn't complaining though; the faster he got to Italy, the quicker he could finally go home.
According to the map, if he wanted to get to Italy, then he was going to have to go through the brown door on the left, and then try to get to the entrance of the third floor, by getting through the corridor without detection, then get to the elevator, or the staircase entrance; they were beside each other, so America didn't have to worry about that.
With that plan thought out in his head, the blonde placed the map in his pocket, then proceeded to go through the brown door.
Although he was told that security was low, America couldn't help but tread carefully. It may have looked like security was low from the room he was just in, but the outside of the room could be a completely different story altogether.
With caution, the blonde pressed himself up against the wall, and slowly took a peek around the corner. The corridor was relatively dark, though despite that, America was still able to see that nobody was there, which was odd. If the villains had a prisoner they wanted to keep contained, shouldn't there be guards on high alert? The American also found the fact that footsteps and breathing couldn't be heard quite unnerving, and strange.
The coast may have looked clear, but the American still had to be cautious.
Bracing himself, just in case he were to come across one of the evil doers, he tiptoed around the corner, holding his breath as he did so. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest, and he could feel butterflies building up in his stomach, but why? Why was the hero feeling nervous?
'Something doesn't feel right, but I can't put my finger on it,' America thought, as he let himself exhale. Peeking around the next corner, he spotted an elevator, to his relief, and to the left of the elevator was a security camera, which strangely appeared to be offline; not active at all.
'Okay, this is getting even stranger. Why are the cameras turned off? Is the power off, and if so, why is the power off? Could the bad guys be plotting an ambush, or...'
Shaking his head, he focused on the situation at hand; he could ponder to himself as soon as he rescued his Italian friend, and gets them both to safety. Maybe the power to the elevator works, however, that would be unlikely.
'It's worth a shot...'
Trying not to get his hopes up, the blonde personification of America, ran towards it, while also making sure his footsteps weren't too loud. For all he knew, there could be secret invisible guards, or something along those lines, and he didn't want to risk that. Pressing the button, nothing happened, which did make sense as hindering as it was.
'I knew it,' America thought in mild frustration. 'So, I guess the power is out then, but why?'
Convenient for him, there was a door to the right of the elevator, which led to a staircase, as it read on the door. Getting ready for disappointment, he took a deep breath, as he pushed down the handle, and fortunately for him, the door was unlocked and could easily be opened.
Without thinking, he ran through, his eyes brimming with hope and determination, as he sprinted up to the third floor. Reaching a door with a big '3' on it, he opened it without haste, just to be safe, as he didn't know if there were guards waiting for him, or not. Taking a small peek, he couldn't see anyone, so he stepped in completely, still keeping his eyes peeled for any guards, and mentally preparing himself for a fight, if necessary.
His next course of action was to find Italy's cell; 302. That was going to be simple, as the cell number was 302, and as it ended in '02', that meant that it was literally a few steps away from the blonde. Taking the keycard Luciano provided him with out, he smiled slightly.
'I'm coming.'
Turning to his left and taking a few steps, he found the door, and immediately used the keycard. With the door now unlocked, he opened it, and took a weary glance around.
"Italy?" America whispered, as he scanned the room. He sighed in relief, as he saw the Italian in question, turn and look up at him; his expression of fear and confusion, quickly turning to an expression of happiness. Tears started to fill the auburn's eyes, as he said, "America, you're here?"
"Yeah, I'm here," he replied softly, approaching the Italian slowly, as he extended his hand out for the shorter nation to grab. "C'mon, we're getting outta here, ok."
Italy smiled as he took America's hand, and was brought up to his feet. "Grazie," he whispered shakily, as he hugged the blonde and buried his head on his shoulder. America wanted to hug back, but they didn't have the time to embrace. Italy's life was on the line, so they had to leave, fast.
Gently pulling away from the hug, the American looked at Italy. "We have to leave here as quick as possible, so we don't have time to hug, maybe later, ok?"
"Si, I understand," he replied, rubbing the tears from his eyes.
Taking Italy's hand in his own, the blonde ran out of the cell, then heard the cocking of guns.
"Hold it!"
"Oh, come on!" America yelled, as he immediately looked to the source of the voice.
It was a group of men in uniforms, identical to the ones him and Luciano had encountered on the way there, albeit not the same men. They had machine guns pointed at the pair of nations, and looked ready to shoot if they had to.
"Where did you people come from?!" the blonde asked, both frustrated and confused. He was sure he saw nobody until that moment.
"Guns down, soldiers," a voice ordered, a voice that also sounded suspiciously familiar. From the small crowd of soldiers, a man that looked like Finland stepped out, a smile on his face. "It's soo nice to finally meet the 1P of Allen in person, but I must say that it's not nice for us to meet like this."
"Who are you?" America asked, a bit aggressively than he had meant to, but he was protecting a friend; and although this guy had the friendly face of Finland, he couldn't let his guard down.
"Oh, where are my manners? My name is Thurston Väinämöinen, the 2P of Finland. I'm also in charge of running this prison building, so if you're unaware of this, you have caused me some issues."
"Sorry 'bout that, dude. I just came to take my friend home, if that's OK with you -"
"I'm afraid it's not, Mr. Jones. We have been ordered to not allow you and Mr. Vargas to escape here. You are now going to surrender yourself, hand Mr. Vargas to us, and you are both to be handed to our Master."
"Like hell we are," America said, standing completely in front of Italy. "We're going home and that's that."
"What a pain," Thurston sighed, as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Men, take aim!"
"Italy, run!"
"America, what about you?!"
"I can handle them, get yourself to safety," the blonde told him, giving the Italian a reassuring smile. "There should be someone waiting for you outside, now go. I'll keep them busy."
"America..."
The American in question could see tears in the auburn haired male's eyes, but he knew this had to be done if it came to it. He had to be a real hero this time around, not just claim to be one every chance he got.
"Italy, don't worry about me. You can still run fast?"
"S-Si," he nodded, his crying now evident, as the tears ran down his cheeks.
"Okay, run, run as fast as you can. I promise I'll catch up with you, be strong for me, and go."
"Fire in 5, 4 -"
"Italy, run! Now!"
And with that last order, he ran and exited through staircase door, running not because England was coming, not because he was chasing a cat, but because his life truly depended on it.
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Well, writing that last part didn't make me upset or anything. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'm aware that it didn't have a great start, but you know, I'm sure the end made up for it, right? I'm going to try and update quicker, as I do feel bad for keeping you all waiting. And sorry if 2P!Finland's name is not good, or not really Finnish, or whatever; I got the name from the 2P!Hetalia Wiki, as sad as that is, as I couldn't think of one. Chapter 10 next, I didn't think I'd get that far with this. Improvements are appreciated, please tell me what I did right, wrong and how I can improve. If you would like, you could also favourite and follow this fic, as well as suggest ideas for future chapters. R&R and thanks for reading!
