disclaimer: I no own Hetalia or other stuffs

He raised his knife to drive into the other mans chest. The door crashed open.

"We heard screa-OHMAHGAWD IT'S THE KILLER!"

Not-Italy whipped his head towards the door to reveal Germany, Japan, America and Russia. Aw shit. He'd been caught. He stood up slowly, and faced the four nations. Germany and Japan's eyes were filled with shock; America was too, Russia was a little more subtle about his shock. Although Not-Italy could see it clearly, Germany opened his mouth as if to say something but he closed it soon after.

"Hello. Lovely evening isn't it?" Not-Italy's silken voice smoothly slaughtered the silence.

"Italy-kun?" Japan tentatively asked his eyes locked on the ink black nation in front of him, "is that you?" Not-Italy shook his head with a smile, he stretched, he appeared calm but he was inwardly panicking. What am I going to do? How can I salvage this?

"I am Not-Italy. You could say he's taking a vacation."

"TAKING A VACATION!? Dude that's totally not fair! I want to go on a vacation!" the some-what stupid American exclaimed. Everyone rolled their eyes.

"Not that kind of vacation, idiot, he is most definitely not having a good time," Not-Italy brushed America's stupidity off, Germany had walked up behind Not-Italy while he was distracted. He tackled his once friend, Not-Italy managed to keep his balance having realized at the last moment. He used Germany's weight against him and threw him back towards the door; he flew into America and Russia bringing them down. Not-Italy, stood there smiling the devils smile, covered in blood.

The very picture of innocence I'm sure, Japan stood frozen, staring at him as the other nations stood up. Italy had never done that before, but he had, just now, and Japan didn't know what happened.

"You killed all those people?" Not-Italy nodded happily, "What did you do to Italy?"

"Slight imprisonment inside his mind, nothing too terrible, maybe," The murderer, replied almost gleefully, he shrugged his shoulders, "Well… I got to go, have a nice evening." And he threw knives at them, not aiming to kill but distract, as a result the knives grazed shoulders, faces, torsos, legs. Some arms got stuck to the wall, and Russia's scarf was pinned to the wall in several places.

Russia yelled, his anger boiling over, it had collected over the course of the past few weeks. He looked at his scarf, sad and angry; he hoped it could be mended. Japan and America where more shocked, America quickly went to pull the knives that pinned his injured arm to the wall. The pain was rocketing up his arm with every movement, and the wounds bled through the bandages and his sleeve and dripped onto the already red carpet.

Germany was held up by his knives, as he had passed out from shock, his mind couldn't compute how Italy went from the cheery ball of sun to a cold murderer. He had killed! It wasn't making any sense to Germany at all. Japan was similarly shocked, but didn't pass out like Germany, his cheek was bleeding and his arms were bleeding with shallow cuts.

This went down in the span of a few seconds, after the knives were sailing in the air, the former nation flipped a few times towards the window. He flipped directly through the frail glass, shattering it; the four nations could do nothing as the killer escaped into the twilight.

As Not-Italy broke through the window the shards glittering about him, he prepared for landing. The murderer landed on someone's fruit stand destroying it, fruits scattered all over the sidewalk, rolling down the road, getting squashed by traffic and the like. He stood from his squatting position, naturally the bystanders stared at him, and it wasn't unusual. With his ink black skin, hair, clothes, and glowing red eyes, it was only natural for him to be stared at.

He smiled a dangerous smile, everyone hurried on their way, darting down the sidewalk eager to get away from the terrifying man. He looked up, about six floors up a figure with raven black hair and a white uniform was leaning out the window. Oops time to go. He quickly absconded (A/N ha absconded… :P kudos to anyone who gets that reference) down the gray sidewalk, he picked up speed as he heard a thump behind him; soon he was dashing between the people. It was easy really, most people practically leapt out of his way, he could hear the pounding footsteps behind him though.

Not-Italy pushed himself harder, his breath came harder and his feet slammed against the ground jarring the rest of his body, he heard a loud thump and he turned and saw that his pursuer had ran into a man, knocking both of them to the ground. Even though he was looking at Japan trying to help that man pick up his papers he was still moving, doing an odd backwards/skipping movement. When Japan looked up, Not-Italy saluted him mockingly, and disappeared into the crowd.

Japan cursed his luck, he had gotten away, as he helped the man with his papers in a daze, picking the white papers off of the gray cement, he mused about how well the other nations would take the news. Not very well, that he knew right away, but apparently Italy was a prisoner in his mind. So how were they to stop him without killing him? He didn't want his best friend to die, or at least one of them, he handed the man his papers and apologized again. He stood and turned back to the hotel, not looking forward to the next meeting at all.

He walked slowly gliding across the pavement; he moved slowly still attempting to process the shock of the entire situation. He just couldn't understand, it was too hard for him, Italy was sweet and adorable but now he was apparently locked inside his mind while something controlled his body and killed people. He pushed through the revolving door, without even noticing he entered the building, he sent a message to everyone signalling an emergency meeting tomorrow morning. It was too late at night to hold a meeting now, and the injured needed their rest.

He wandered to his room and flopped on the bed, his body immediately shutting down to sleep, and take a break from confusing reality. Germany had been retrieved by Prussia and the both of them slept. Romano slept too, sort of; it was fitful again in worry for his twin. Frightening images swirled behind Romano's flickering eyelids and when he woke up the next morning they remained and fermented inside his mind. He worried for his brother and it showed, he had bags under his eyes and he was much my irritable then before.

Japan sighed as he watched the younger nation scream at Spain before taking his seat; he wasn't looking forward to crashing it all down around Romano. Soon everyone was seated and Japan took his place at the head of the table, his eyes quickly surveyed everyone in the room, everyone looked tired as if they hadn't slept well. Japan could bet and win on the fact that they didn't, some of them were sitting close to people that they wished to protect; as such the Nordics were clustered together. Norway was eyeing anyone and everyone he deemed suspicious and keeping close to his brother, while the other Nordics stayed close to them. It didn't take a genius to see that Iceland, despite Norway's healing spell, was in pain still it was practically carved into his face.

Not the best image… Japan inwardly winced at the image, it was unnoticeable to everyone, and Japan looked at the nations in front of him they looked at him curiously. He opened his mouth to begin and made a choked sound, it was high pitched and it shocked everyone, including Japan, in the room (meanwhile Greece was shocked into falling off of his chair, which no one noticed or if they did, they didn't particularly care.) they all stared at him. He cleared his throat and started again, eyes shyly looking at the purple carpet to avoid the stares.

"There have been rumours that the identity of the killer has been found," he started, some of the nations looked at him in shock, "and they are true. The identity of the killer is now known… but in a sense is still a mystery." More then a few rolled their eyes at his cryptic statement. Japan glared slightly and cleared his throat again.

"Well the killer is… Italy…" his accented voice cut through any side conversation there may have been and left silence, they looked at him in shock, Romano was staring at him in shock… that was slowly turning to rage.

"Wait wait!" he held his hands up in a placating manner, "in a sense it also wasn't him! He's been… uh how do I say… possessed by something. It's turned his looks completely around, his skin is pitch black along with his hair but his eyes glow red. Whatever it is hasn't killed him and there might still be a part of him within his mind, if we're lucky maybe all of him." Needless to say that didn't go down well, nations were freaking out, Romano obviously didn't believe them yelling that his fratello would never do that; his fratello would never kill someone. Never.

Some nations were nodding in agreement while others were frozen in shock, while others still were crying, or screaming, and the reactions went on. Japan winced at all the violent reactions; he had hoped it would have gone better then this.

-After the meeting-

Romano grumbled as he rifled through his suit case, how dare they accuse his fratello of murder he was ITALY he's been surrendering for centuries! And now he's suddenly a murderer!? Of course they did say he was possessed but seriously? Only wacko's would believe that. Wacko's like the Nordics, Romania, America, and what-his-name… America-look-a-like. He huffed angrily at the thought of them as he shuffled across the green carpet to his other suitcase; he pulled shirts and pants out of the suitcase in search for his gun.

"Where did I put the damn thing..?" he muttered, he huffed and slammed the suitcase closed, moving to a different one near the window, "why did I bring so much stuff!?" he always brought at least 5 suitcases with him wherever he went. Hey you never know when you might need 20 extra changes of clothes. He rifled through the third suitcase tossing out, shirts and pants, totally unaware of the presence inching closer and closer to him. Its black shoes soundless against the green carpet, its smile was wild, and its eyes glowed.

The man had his eyes locked on the unsuspecting nation, Romano grumbled as he continued his search, the murderer raised a knife filled hand. Romano pulled out his gun with a triumphant 'aha!' and turned slightly and saw the figure behind him. He quickly dodged to the side as the knives came down and sliced easily through the leather, his eyes widened that could have been me… he whipped around with his gun pointed at the assailant, swears and insults ready to spring from his mouth when the words died on his tongue. Not-Italy smiled at him, Italy? He thought that's mio fratello!? H-how..? They... Were right… his eyes widened and his arms shook a little.

"You're scared." Not-Italy purred, it wasn't a question it was a statement and Romano could see that he was pleased by this deduction. He took a few deep breathes and stopped the shaking in his arms. When he opened his hazel eyes again they shined with determination but they were also highlighted in fear, Not-Italy's smile grew further becoming practically inhuman.

"Who the hell are you?" the Italian demanded, he ignored how his voice shook slightly, Romano tried to look him in the eye but he looked away soon after. Looking at his face but not his eyes, he didn't like the malice and sickening joy in the other's eyes.

"I'm Not-Italy," he took a step forward, in which Romano quickly took a few small steps back; "you know… your brother's body is quite nice. Maybe I'll keep it." Romano's eyes immediately snapped up to see the ever furthering joy and anticipation in the blood red eyes.

"You wouldn't dare bastard!" Romano's voice rose angrily, his eyes blazed with anger, but fear was highlighted in everything he did. It was the small shake in his voice; it tinted the edge of his eyes, it lay in his posture. Not-Italy suddenly appeared inches in front of the Italians face, Romano gasped his entire body flinched backward only to have the murderer follow his movements, keeping directly in his face. He leaned forward so that his mouth was near Romano's ear, Romano was paralyzed by fear, he couldn't move.

"But wouldn't I?" he breathed quietly, his breath tickling the shell of Romano's ear, "I am a terrible person after all." With that he chuckled, the terrible maliciousness in the noise shook Romano from his paralysis, and he pushed Not-Italy away from him. His breath quickening, this wasn't his brother, this wasn't him! But in a way the smiling killer not even three feet away was him… it was his brother… or at least his brother's body… he… couldn't shoot him… not his brother…

Not-Italy grinned even more (if that's even physically possible) at the conflicting emotions on Romano's face, he knew he would come to a conclusion eventually. But… He saw no need to let him reach it, with that he charged at the dazed Italian, his knives raised to attack. Romano was a bit too dazed to do much other than raised his arms to protect his face, the knives clawed through the flesh on his right arm, leaving deep gashes. He screamed as blood splattered everywhere, all over himself and Not-Italy, the blood mingled with the tears on Romano's face. He grabbed one of the knives from Not-Italy and blindly lashed out leaving some shallow scratches on his chest and a cut on his cheek.

Not-Italy quickly remedied this situation but kneeing the other in the gut and then landing and upper cut causing Romano's head to snap back. The gun fell to the floor; its clatter attracting both of the nation's attention, Not-Italy lunged for it before getting barrelled over by Romano. Thus began the great gun fight of 2014, the both clawed for the gun, kicking and scratching knocking over furniture. No doubt someone should be coming soon; good thing Not-Italy blocked the door.

Eventually they ended up with someone finally in position of the gun. Not-Italy had the gun pointed directly at Romano's heart, they were both breathing heavily, and bruises formed slowly on Romano's arms and face. Not-Italy was straddling Romano's stomach and had both of Romano's arms pinned under his knees. He pulled back the hammer with a click, and set it back against Romano's chest.

"Addio mio caro fratello." (farewell my dear brother) he murmered to the frightened man under him as his finger slowly tightened around the trigger.

authors note:

haah finally out there! sorry about the like forever wait guys! I've been busy and plagued by the horrible disease best known as writers block. so yea. that's about all my excuses for that...hmmm

well don't you guys just 'love' me right now? XP soooo sorry about the cliff hanger but you know I love them. sorry for like no details about the initial struggle for the gun but I doubted you wanted to read something like:

then he snatched for the gun, but the other intercepted and they went into another bout of rolling.

I mean COME ON WHO WANTS TO READ THAT SHIT!? it's boring

and useless

and no one wants it.

but you know what I do want!

Oreos.

gotta love Oreos.

so anyway imma try to regulate my schedule again. um expect next update soon! mebbe... OH don't mind me but i'm also deleting that update thing I wrote before. because I hate it when things don't line up properly.

anywho

bye~!

-Ches