Thanks to i, Miss Akiyata, Kit, Dragonfire78, BloodLily16, MRoshka and Don't Insult Oliver's Cupcakes for reviewing.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
Chapter 27: Dangerous Players
Now that we are revealed, it's time to show them what we consider a game worth playing.
…
Lukas and Arthur were examining the spell, making sure they had everything they needed to cast the spell.
Sigurd and Oliver could take them at any time, and neither European looked forward to that.
"I hope Vlad is okay," Lukas sighed.
"I'm sure he is," Arthur said. "Especially if he…"
"Arthur, we haven't done it in years. And if our counterparts can do it…"
"Vlad might be at a disadvantage. Three against one. And we're all out of practice."
"Let's cast the spell, and then hope that the other South Africa will pull through."
…
Seychelles, Mauritius and Madagascar were at Madagascar's house, enjoying cocktails.
The three Francophone islands often came together, and they would usually meet at Madagascar's place, where, in case they needed something, they could just ask South Africa or Mozambique for assistance. It was also the larger island.
Madagascar had dark skin and long black hair with deep brown eyes. She wore a red and white sundress with a pair of white flats. She also wore multi-coloured bracelets made of beads on both arms.
Mauritius had skin tanned from time spent in the sun. He wore a loose-fitting blue shirt with a pair of blue shorts and brown sandals. His shoulder-length curly light brown hair was tied back in a low ponytail with a few strands flying free, his blue eyes always sparkling in amusement, and his mouth always in an amused smile.
Madagascar was startled when her phone started to ring. She giggled before answering it.
"Oui?" she replied, causing her two friends to giggle.
"Miora," a familiar voice said.
"Oh, hello Anika," Madagascar giggled. "How can I help my neighbour from across the pond?"
"…You're drunk, aren't you?"
"Just a bit tipsy."
"Who's with you?"
"Michelle and Maurice. Why?"
"Good, that means I don't have to call them."
Her smile fell slightly. Why would South Africa call all three of them?
"What's wrong?" she asked at last.
"Deathplayers. They're playing games again. And not just with our continent."
This time her smile completely fell.
"Are you sure?" she asked. "I mean, it's not possible. Right?"
"I saw them. Also, Canada's involved, and I think France too."
"Tell me you're joking. S'il vous plaît, this has to be a joke."
"I wish it were. You still remember how to fight them, nê?"
"Oui. And I'll tell Michelle and Maurice too."
"Dankie. Bon journee."
"Bon journee."
She hung up the phone, turning to her two friends, who looked at her with confusion.
"What's wrong?" Seychelles asked.
"That was South Africa. They're back."
"Who?" Mauritius asked.
"Joueurs de décès."
For once, all three islands lost their ever-present smiles, a look of horror replacing their smiles.
…
The Southern Africans, with the exception of South Africa, were standing at the mouth of the Sterkfontein cave, looks of apprehension on each of their faces.
"Anika suspected this," Namibia said. "Which means she came into contact with them."
"But there's something different," Mozambique said. "They were supposed to be sealed in the Cradle of Humankind. What could be considered their 'bodies' are still there, but…"
"They themselves aren't there, and they're not moving at all," Zimbabwe added. "And didn't Anika say that she might have seen one of them?"
"Ja," Namibia sighed. "We need to keep an eye on things. They'll want revenge."
"Over just us, or all the Nations?" Botswana asked.
"Don't know," Mozambique sighed. "By the way, do the Northern Africans know?"
"They weren't involved last time," Namibia said. "They stayed out of the Sahara Desert, remember?"
"Yes," Zimbabwe said. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I'm going back to my own country, before I get in trouble for staying in someone else's country for too long."
Botswana and Mozambique smiled and waved, but Namibia stepped forward.
"Actually," she said, "I think you should stay. If the Deathplayers are out there, then they'll be targeting us as part of their next move. I'd imagine that they're not happy with any of us."
Swaziland and Lesotho chuckled when they saw Botswana and Mozambique's disappointed looks, which remained completely ignored by Namibia and Zimbabwe.
…
"What do you suppose they're talking about?" Oliver asked Sigurd.
The two were watching their counterparts through the mirror, amusement clear on their faces.
"I'm not sure," the Norwegian said. His face split into a wide grin. "But we can ask them. I kind of hope that they won't tell us so easily."
"I know. That means we can get the information any way we want."
"What information?"
They turned to see Italy and Romania standing at the doorway of the bedroom they were using to watch their counterparts. Italy was the one that had spoken.
"They're speaking about something very vaguely," Oliver said. "It's got us all curious. I want to know what they're talking about."
"You will have your chance soon," Marius said. "Shall we begin?"
…
Vlad paced back and forth in the room. He was glad that he wasn't tied up this time. It allowed him at least some freedom.
He thought at first that the darker Nations were foolish. He could use a spell to get out of the room.
At least, that's what he thought.
He had learned the hard way that there was a charm on the room that prevented him from using any magic to escape. He couldn't teleport out of the room, and he couldn't unlock the door. Attempting to teleport sent a shock throughout his entire body, and trying to unlock the door burned his hands.
He needed to find a way to escape from his prison.
He heard the door unlock, and he froze. His body felt like reminding him about all of the injuries inflicted on him. He dreaded any more.
When the door opened, he was only slightly relieved when he saw that it wasn't the North Italian, who he assumed to be the most vicious among them, but his brothers.
He wasn't sure how to feel about them, though.
Seborga was carrying a plate of pasta, and Vlad eyed it suspiciously, tracing his tongue over his second fang.
Romano saw his glance and giggled.
"Don't worry," Romano said. "Francesco made it. No blood or poison, so you shouldn't have a problem with it. Unless you want it."
"Nu," Vlad said. "Thank you."
Seborga nodded and put the plate on a nearby table.
"So," Romano sang, closing the door and stepping closer to Vlad, "you're from the other world. I wonder, what is the other me like?"
"Rude, grumpy, and has a very colourful vocabulary," Vlad said. "I once heard that he cussed someone out for nearly three hours without repeating himself. Probably Spain. Or Germany."
"And what's your relationship with him?"
"He calls me the 'Vampire Bastard'. He calls everyone 'something bastard'. Well, the men at least. He's apparently polite with the women."
"That's a little rude," Romano said.
He stepped closer to Vlad, and the latter couldn't help but flinch. This caused the other to giggle in amusement.
"Don't worry," he said. "I'm not like Veneziano. I prefer poisons, since blood is so hard to wash out. And these clothes aren't cheap."
Vlad felt himself relax slightly. If he thought about it, this Romano seemed to be like a mixture of his France and Italy.
"Are you hungry or not?" Seborga suddenly asked, making Vlad jump. He almost forgot that the Micronation was there.
"Da," he said, stepping closer to the plate.
He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Romano kept an eye on him, and the gaze seemed to intensify the closer he got to Seborga. Seborga himself kept a wide berth from the captured Nation.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Vlad sighed, finding it slightly ironic. "In my world, anyone that hurts a Micronation is considered weak, cowardly and pathetic."
He heard Romano chuckle, and he could see Seborga relax.
"That's good to know," a familiar cold voice said.
Vlad felt himself grow cold and turned to the door, where the third Italian was leaning against the door, playing with a knife.
"Fratello," Romano sang, completely ignoring Vlad's fear. "Can I play with him? He seems nice."
"We'll see," Italy chuckled. "As Spain put it, your company is torture enough. And new playmates will be arriving soon. But for now, I need to see you both."
The other two Italians nodded, leaving the room. Luciano smirked.
"I don't mind if you try to hurt Flavio," he said. "But if you hurt Francesco, your skin will become my new carpet. Am I clear?"
"D-da," Vlad said.
Luciano's smirk widened before he shut the door, locking it behind him.
Vlad didn't dare move until he could no longer hear the other's footsteps, and proceeded to pick up the plate of pasta.
First, he was pleased to note that there wasn't a bloody taste. Second, it might have been the most delicious thing he's had in days.
…
France shuddered.
He was in the kitchen, making lunch for them all. It was a unanimous decision days ago that he would provide for every meal.
And he couldn't help but feel that someone just insulted his cooking.
…
Fletcher stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
He was surprised to notice that it was a redheaded version of himself. So somehow, he was affected by the same thing that affected the others.
Luckily for him, his counterpart, James, was curious about what was going on. So Fletcher explained everything that he knew. When he mentioned South Africa and Australia, James stopped him.
"How close are you to them?" he asked.
"We're sports rivals," Fletcher explained. "But we're really more like a family. Although, that only makes our rivalry stronger. I feel sorry for Canada, though. He's the fourth member of our 'family', and he's the odd one out."
"He's a Northern Nation," James said.
"Yeah, but we're still close. Things like North and South don't matter much in our world."
"Speaking of which," James said. "I need to get going. Bruce said that Oceania is with the South now. And South Africa called for a meeting."
"Ooh, I can ask Anika if she knows what it's about."
"Maybe. But I should still get going. She said it's an emergency meeting."
"Oh, ok then."
…
Finland watched as South Africa kept pacing the room, calling just about every African Nation.
He noticed that her accent somewhat changed. At first he thought that she was drunk, but then he noticed that a few words were pronounced differently. He recalled that one of her singers spoke like that, but was slightly terrified when he realised exactly how the accent changed.
The singer was an Afrikaner that grew up with Zulus. And right now, the two sound exactly the same.
…
Germany sighed, dialling the number.
He had decided to settle on calling France to enquire about his brother's whereabouts. Unlike Spain, France actually knew a thing or two about subtlety.
"Hello?" said Frenchman answered his phone.
"France, it's Germany. Please tell me that Prussia is there."
"Oui, he's here. Drowning himself in alcohol with Spain. I'm making lunch."
"Lunch? But it's almost time for dinner."
"…Did we mention we're in Canada?"
Germany tried to recall who Canada was, but couldn't remember, and huffed in frustration.
"…We're in North America," France said.
"Oh. Danke."
"Do you want to talk to him?"
"Nein. Please tell me he didn't get into trouble."
There was a long silence, which only increased Germany's worry.
"What did he do?" he asked, sounding exasperated but feeling afraid.
"Nothing. What happened isn't his fault. Any of our faults. Call Lithuania or England. They can tell you."
"What are you doing with Lithuania?"
"Oops, the lunch is about to burn. I have to go."
"Wait…!"
The dial tone met his ears, and he felt truly afraid for his brother.
He could kind of understand why he could call England, but why would Lithuania be involved?
He wondered if something was going on, and decided to check in with every Nation.
…
Arthur and Lukas were chanting the spell, and they were surrounded by a blue-green light.
The light suddenly turned red, and the two paused their chant. This was not supposed to happen.
Their eyes widened when they realised what was happening.
"No," Arthur whispered. "It's too soon."
"Come on," Lukas hissed. "Let's finish our spell before they finish theirs."
Arthur nodded, but before either of them could resume, they screamed when they felt an intense pain envelope their entire bodies. It felt like a thousand shards of glass were stabbed into them.
…
Oliver and Sigurd chuckled. They saw their counterparts attempt to protect themselves, but jumped ahead, casting their own spell.
Both of them had cut a wrist, using the blood to draw a pentagram on the mirror. At least Italy gave his permission for them to do that.
Marius stood nearby, watching his two friends.
There was a specific goal with this little exercise. It was to see if they could cast a summoning charm through the mirror without their counterparts having part of the spell cast on them from the other side.
And then Marius had to fulfil Luciano's other request. He needed to see whether or not it would be possible. But there are two others that they had to wait for before they could make that attempt.
…
When they heard the two magical Nations scream, they rushed to the room, looking on in confusion and worry.
"What's wrong?" Alistair demanded.
"Their spell… it's interfering with ours," Arthur said.
"We… can't…" Lukas panted. "It… hurts…"
Arthur's brothers rushed to them, but before they could reach them the light exploded, sending them back.
They watched in horror as England and Norway disappeared, their final screams echoing throughout the house.
…
All around the world, in several countries, many Nations were experiencing an intense pain in their chests. Where their hearts would be.
And if one were to turn on the television, they would notice that several bombs had gone off simultaneously in different countries. In their capitals.
Tokyo, Berlin, Rome, Vienna, Budapest, Cairo, Luanda, Praia, Kabul, Jerusalem, Bangkok, Minsk, Brussels, Copenhagen, Helsinki, Reykjavik, Amsterdam, Lisbon, Stockholm, Havana, Kingston, Buenos Aires, Santiago, Lima and Caracas. Each of these capital cities experienced a bomb threat.
And in each case, at least five people died.
…
Everyone was surprised when the remaining Nordics suddenly collapsed, each of them clutching their chests.
Gabriel was by Emil's side, wondering what happened to his counterpart.
"What happened?" France demanded.
"Copenhagen," Denmark muttered.
"Reykjavik too," Emil muttered.
"My capital too," Finland said.
"Mine too," Sweden said.
There was silence for a while, before everyone decided to check the Nations' News.
Hopefully they will find their answers.
…
Arthur felt himself land on something hard. From the sounds coming from next to him, Lukas was in a similar predicament.
He couldn't see much, only blurred images, and it sounded as though he was hearing everything from underwater.
His body felt as though it was burning, but it almost felt as though he was… wet?
Why would he be wet?
When his sense of smell returned, he could immediately figure out why he was wet.
Blood.
…
Oliver and Sigurd watched as their counterparts came through the mirror. Both of them were covered in multiple cuts, as though they were physically pulled through the mirrors.
But the solid glass proved otherwise.
The two barely moved, and they didn't seem to react to either Oliver's or Sigurd's words.
"It might be an unfortunate side-effect," Marius said, stepping closer. "Well, at least they're alive."
"True," Oliver said. "We should probably take them to Vladdy's room, right?"
"Da," Marius said. "And see exactly how long it takes for them to recover. It won't be fun if anyone we pull through dies before any of us could play, now will it?"
"You're right," Sigurd said.
…
Angola was at home when she felt it.
Luanda was attacked, and she could sense the city's pain.
It took her a moment to breathe, and then she decided to drive to her capital.
Angola had shoulder-length curly brown hair and hazel eyes. Her skin had a darkish tint. She wore a too-large black shirt with the Angolan Coat of Arms, a pair of black jeans and black boots. She also wore a bracelet on her wrist made from woven beads in red, green and yellow, a gift from South Africa after she gained independence from Portugal.
Once she arrived in Luanda, she watched in horror.
It was a home. A home with a family of six. They had done nothing, so why…?
She was startled when her phone suddenly rang. With shaky hands she withdrew it from her pockets, and saw that it was South Africa.
"Look," she said, "not to be rude, but I have a bit of a problem and I don't have time for chit-chat. So unless it's pretty damn important…"
"The Deathplayers are back."
Angola didn't say anything, her mouth still frozen open from her unfinished sentence.
"…Sim, that sounds pretty damn important."
…
Germany clutched his chest.
He was watching the news. How was it possible for several countries to be hit simultaneously by a bomb?
Each bomb went off at a residential area, and every time at least five people died. This wasn't natural.
Then there's the fact that each bomb hit the Nations' capital cities. If it was a small town, it wouldn't have done as much damage. Or even one of the other main cities.
But no. It was the capital.
In Germany's militaristic mind, this wasn't random.
Someone was messing with each of the Nations.
…
Anika sighed, disconnecting the call to Angola. Somehow, she had a funny feeling about it.
She felt a presence behind her, but didn't move. She knew exactly what the presence was, but she could tell that it didn't want to hurt her this time.
And that is how you play a game with Nations. You don't need to attack them. Any landmark would do.
She sighed, sensing the presence disappearing.
She hated playing their games. Even if she's good at it.