Angel Of Darkness
50 Shades of Pitch Black
Chapter 3: At The End of The Road
WARNING: Use of fowl language, gore, blood, drug use and… "Hellish" situations. Possible Character Death.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, or anything expect the story itself.
All my fellow hetalians, prepare for this chapter, take a minute to watch something happy, get something sweet to eat, and try to be happy, for this is one of the saddest chapters yet.
Real Suffering Is Not Known….
WWW
"Britain..? England..? Arthur…?" Alfred called out into the house. "Hello?" He his fingers though his dirty blonde hair as he walked though the house, trying to find his friend.
"Shit!" Alfred reared his foot up as he felt something sharp prick it. Alfred gritted his teeth and looked at what poked him.
His mouth went dry, their on the floor was a needle, dotted with blood. It had a half used substance in the tube.
Then a flash of lighting came from outside and it started to snow. 'Just MOTHER FUCKING PERFECT!' Alfred swore viscously and ran outside into the snow.
"Arthur! Where are you!?" Alfred yelled into the pounding rain, only to hear a moan from a little ways off.
Alfred, being the heroic one, trudged though the snow with light, airy clothes and lack of shoes or socks. He saw a trail of crimson and reluctantly followed it. But something was wrong, the deeper he went into the land, he started see pool of black liquid, similar to blood but not quite.
America, felt a sense of impending doom and depression coming on as he started seeing markings appearing in the snow. His whole body was freezing, he was showing symptoms of hymenoptera. He watched his warm breath mix with the cold air.
His skin had a light blue hue to it as he forced himself to limp into a field.
Alfred looked up as he saw a figure dragging himself around the hills, laughing and loud murmurs were heard.
The American nation grinned happily and raced towards him only to stop. The figure had his face covered with a hood but he had a bloody knife in his hand and red liquids steadily dripped off his face.
"A-a-Arthur…?" Alfred tapped his shoulder. Arthur chuckled and turned around, slowly.
A horrible, impossibly wide, bloody, smile was cut onto his face, but the thing was you could see nothing else, his hood covered the rest of his face.
The sane, dirty, blonde jumped back.
"What's wrong?" Arthurs voice sounded cracked and slow, as if we slowly trying to piece his words together.
Alfred was speechless.
"Cat… Got your… tongue..?"
Alfred mumbled an muted apology and grabbed the smaller nations wrist and twisted it, he though the Brit over his back. With a swift kick of Alfred's foot the knife went flying, hitting the ground with a soft thud.
Arthur yelled angrily, he talked nonsense and raked his claws down the stronger nations back. Alfred huffed and slammed Arthur against a near by tree, knocking the demon nation unconscious.
America felt tears rolls down his face, only for them to freeze. His feet were a frozen purple but he kept walking for his sake and his friends. The younger man choked and sobbed as he felt crushing defeat, even though he have saved England from death, he haven't saved the British man from himself.
WWW
Finally after many yards he collapsed from exhaustion, panting Alfred tried to get up, only to fall back down. His breaths were shaky and un-even, his vision was black around the edges.
Alfred felt Arthur shifted next to him.
He revealed back his hood, to Alfred un-dying happiness, he saw emerald green eyes, golden blonde hair, and un-mistakable bushy eyebrows. England turned to his side and looked his Americas cloudy yet blue eyes.
"Real pain is not known."
"What does that mean?"
"You have felt nothing yet, little boy."
"Yeah, right, limey magician."
"Very funny, stupid git, You joke to the end.." Arthur gently took the younger nations hand.
"Hey, at least I kept my promise." Alfred joked, curled his fingers into Arthur's palm.
"You did, at least that counts for… Something.." Arthur said, his shiny orbs were glowing but half-lidded, he was dying of blood loss.
"So, what… D-does it feel like…. To b-be you…?"
"Terrible, but right now, I think… if I had another chance… I'd… do… better…." Arthur breaths came shallow.
"Don't g-go yet o-old m-m-man…" Alfred also rolled on his side, so the two were touching foreheads.
"This is ironic… I always…. Thought… I would… Die alone… Or with that… Frog… Too bad… I hope he knows… That… His food isn't that… Bad." Alfred smiled.
"H-h-hope Mattie will know that h-he may b-be better a-at hockey, b-b-but I can b-beat him at a v-video game c-contest." Alfred's lips were slowing turning white.
"Hope my brothers.. Know that their… Dawn pricks…" Arthur rested his head on Alfred's chest.
"I w-wonder, how is a-all of the "c-cannon" c-c-couples are doing." Arthur slightly frowned, if that was even possible.
"Let's just say… Most of them… Are… Dea- Arthur stopped talking.
"Artie…? N-no… No!" Alfred tried to shake the Brit awake, but it was too late.
Alfred looked to the gray, cloud covered sky. He laid his head on the pillow of snow and leaned forward to touch his free head on the dead nation's cheek.
Alfred closed his eyes… And went to sleep.
To be Continued