The hallways flickered with a muted orange glow, and if one were to take a look at it, they would see naught but a lone figure standing at the very far end. It was tall, shadowed and willowy, and its name was The Introducer of Fandoms.
The tip-tap of booted feet echoed from the far side, and he took his hands out of his pockets and folded them in front of him, looking prim, proper, and ramrod straight.
Germany and Russia lead a troop of sneaky fangirls to the malevolent being and they stopped a metre or so away from his presence.
He noticed the end of a long scarf flop across the stairs in front of him.
And his world went red.
5 years ago, a man had a scarf that had bounced across the stairs in just the same way. He had ended up tripping on it, breaking his nose and his dignity.
4 years ago, a scarf had crawled onto his jacket and spontaneously exploded. He never found out how.
3 years ago, a fangirl had a scarf and it had come under his foot and ripped. The child had started bawling her eyes out there and then in the hallway.
2 years ago, another scarf had ended up in front of him, and Greece's cat had come and eaten it. The boy who owned it had made a huge issue out of it and had wanted his scarf refunded; right in that corridor.
1 year ago, a scarf had latched onto his cloak and pulled it away, ruining his balance and he had turned into a hamster. Loosing himself in the frenzy of landing on his feet, he had gone ballistic and had eaten the offending piece of cloth. No-one claimed that particular scarf.
And every one of those years, he had not been able to give his super-amazing-ultra-uber-pwnage speech to the fangirls.
HE WOULD NOT BE DENIED HIS SPEECH!
"DIE!" The being screamed out in his fury, and the poor nation wearing the scarf was no more.
His bloodlust faded away, and the logical line of action continued.
"Oh crap," he murmured.
He looked left. He looked right. He looked into the huddle of scared and pale fangirls and the occasional fanboy and sought out anyone with a distraught or horrified expression.
He found one. But, the face didn't belong to any of the fangirls or fanboys.
"RUSSIA!" Germany screamed, aghast, looking at the limp and broken body of his not so faithful companion. He pushed his way through the twenty or so people in front of him and bent next to the murdered nation, trying to check for any remaining shred of life.
He sobbed grievously. Memories of Russia and him flooded his grief struck mind and made his pain worse. No more would the nation try to run away from him, no more would he spend endless hours trying to find him again...
Oh, the Agony! Oh, the sheer unforgivable acts of carnage!
Something broke within Germany right then. The stern nation vanished in a haze of berserk rage and a monster took his place; a monster created from the power of love. He stood up; face still bowed, and then his face darkened in resolve. He turned and faced the murderer of all things Russian and growled.
"YOU," he pointed, approaching the addressed with clenched fists. He drew his pistol out with his right hand and broke out into a run.
The Introducer of Fandoms was stumped. Things had gotten out of hand, and that was an understatement. He eyed the nation that was barrelling towards him and thought of a few non-lethal curses to stop him. When he raised his pistol, all thoughts changed to defending himself from any bullets he might throw at him instead.
Stupefy? Sectumsempra? Avada Kedavra? He speculated. He began muttering a complex twelve-spell matrix with weird fluttery dance moves and hand twirlings that left him unable to do anything else, looking all elite-wizardy and awesome.
"AAAAAUUUGHHHH!" Germany just ran up to him and stabbed him with his gun.
…
Well, he was awash with grief.
The hall was the picture-perfect scene of chaos and panic. The fangirls had formed clumps amongst themselves, trying to find comfort from each other, and they all were bordering on hysteria. Everyone was avoiding Germany like the plague.
"Oh no! Someone has killed Russia! What're we gonna do?"
"OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG..."
"I mean, obviously a regular person can't kill someone like that, a nation has to die in style, there's no way that he went down with a stab wound. Just you wait, we'll wake up in our beds soon and this'll all be a stupid dream..."
"Oh sod off..."
"OMG OMG OMG OMG... It's Prussia! *Squeal*"
"I mean, seriously, this goes so far from established truth that I'm sure none of this is real..."
"I AM AWESOOOOOOOOOOMMMEE... Wait, Russia's dead? Oh."
"Prussia, go talk to Germany. I'm sure he'll actually care about whatever you're saying."
This headless-chicken behaviour went on for a while.
Somewhere amongst the Fangirls...
"Hey Jenna..."
"Yeah, Sandy?"
"...Nothing. I coulda sworn I'm forgetting something."
Germany was far from over with his vendetta though. The universe had taken his Russian friend away from him. Nothing would be a fitting vengeance for it other than the complete eradication of the entire building that took Russia.
"EVERYONE!" he bellowed, standing with his foot on top of The Introducer of Fandom's head.
The crowd shushed and turned to the grieving nation-killer.
"This building... has murdered my Love."
GASP! Everyone went teary eyed at the absolutely ghastly deed that Germany had been the brunt of. Everyone started crying with deep shuddering sobs. Everyone except te haters of Germany and Russia.
"I mean, he killed Russia and no-one cared?! Is this really happening?!"
"Other fangirls... Y-you uncaring l-little... Witches!"
"SHUDDUP!..."
Germany was on a roll, it seemed. He pointed passionately to everyone, and girls swooned at the very thought of being relatively important to someone as charismatic as him.
"...and who knows? Someday they may kill your Russian friend. Then what? Will you let them desecrate your precious companions like that? Will you let them be SLAIN?"
"NO!" Everyone with less than half a brain, which was pretty much everyone, chorused together.
"Will you join me in my vendetta!?"
"YES!" Everyone who didn't know what vendetta meant, which was pretty much everyone, shouted out again.
"Then come. Let us begin the massacre," Germany chuckled darkly, then erupted into full-on cackling. The entire crowd followed his lead, and the entire portion of the castle sounded like dying sheep on laughing gas.
"I mean, everyone just ups and follows? They really expect to be able to defeat Himaruya and some of the other most powerful manga authors and authoresses in the entire world? Is anyone sane here?"
"Don't doubt the power of love, Jenna," Sandy said with glowing eyes and followed her new role model.
Elsewhere, in the mystical depths of the maze of insanity I like to call my mind...
"Oh yeaaaaaa... that's the stuff right there..."
The man with the most awesome imagination in the galaxy because if he didn't have one, I wouldn't be writing this fic lifted his head out of the sink with his eyes rolled inwards and tongue lolling out. His glasses hung askew off one ear and smoke drifted out of his mouth and nose.
"... Oh teh fluff bunnies..."
A Hetalia Hater that turned into a bird from the Hetalia Lovers squawked from his perch, calling Himaruya a StupidHead. Himaruya just took a step in its direction and face-vaulted, breaking his nose on the floor. The Hetalia Hater snidely screeched out a few more expletives.
The awesome manga author slowly stood up and Avada Kedavra'd the Hater, making it burst into flames and crumble into ashes.
"Oh screw you," it cheeped melodiously in its baby tweets.
Suddenly, within a fraction of a nano-second, Himaruya's visage lost its demonic grin and assumed a sombre, responsible and powerful expression. He drew his hands to his temples and closed his eyes, swaying slightly from side to side.
"I sense some great evil afoot in the building..." He said softly, voice no more than a whisper in the air. He focused some more, then finally opened his eyes looking ten years older than he already did.
"Pikachu, alert the faculty immediately." He watched the small ball of feathers flap its two minuscule appendages and was satisfied.
"It seems I must hold council with the Smoke Spirits once more," he odiously proclaimed.
He turned and threw his face back into the sink, eyes going unfocused once more.
The crowd of fangirls and fanboys walked into the great hall, walking with such swagger and bravado that they looked like a right bunch of gangstas. Germany lead them all, moving his shoulders and arms with such exaggeration that they almost got dislocated.
His love for Russia kept him going.
All the nations already in there looked at them in downright envy and admiration. No-one had ever seen such a Dramatic entrance in the entire history of Hetalia, as everyone was remarking to themselves. Every female within a one mile radius randomly swooned, overwhelmed by the immense macho-ness of Germany's shoulders. Except the haters of Russia and Germany, of course.
"I mean, do these people have no self-respect? Seychelles just fainted! For a nation way older than her! That is coming to kill her! What the heck is happening?"
"The world works in strange ways. Now shut up."
Austria played some ominous sepulchral music on piano that just happened to be there, synchronizing it to Germany's every step. The revolutionary stopped in front of the table of nations, and it seemed as if the entire world came to a halt.
Sealand stood on top of the table, looking down on the crowd that had formed around him. His diminutive height did not make him any less impressive; rather it seemed to make every eye that wasn't focused on Germany drawn to him.
"What have you done?" He all but growled.
They stared at each other for what seemed like eons. Before those two, time seemed like a meaningless quantity, their endless energy entrancing all who gazed upon them. Except the haters of Germany and Russia, of course.
"I mean, Sealand? THE Sealand, Fake Nation of all Fake Nations? Actually acting as if Germany has a chance to win? This can't possibly get any more ridiculous-"
"Okay, how many times have you been proved wrong today?"
"..."
A/N: Yeeeaaaaahh, I think I killed Russia off a little too early.