Dro: Yay, another chapter of Italy awesomeness! One more chapter of the beginning of this arc before we switch back to the other guys for a while. But no worries! We will periodically return to see how Italy is doing every few chapters.

Chapter Summary: Italy gets a lead on how to find the other nations. Unfortunately, his journey to them is interrupted. Meanwhile, Ludwig and the others are evacuated from Berlin. But of course, they don't get away unscathed.

Warnings: Violence; Language

Disclaimer: Dro doesn't own APH, guys. I'm not even fluent in Japanese (yet).

He crouched low, peering carefully around the corner. At first, he'd been sure he was mistaken. But at he'd closed in on the scene, he'd realized that, no, his eyes hadn't been playing tricks on him. Yao was leaning against the front of a brick apartment building, surrounded by black-clad guards that he was barking orders to. There were a lot more than Feliciano had come into contact with the day prior, and he wondered just how many men Yao had at his disposal in Berlin. He sank down to his knees, trying to hide himself the best he could. His hip screamed in response, but he ignored it. He was no longer covered in blood after raiding a clothing store, and he'd found a small backpack that he'd loaded with medical supplies, so as far as he was concerned, his wounds could just shut the hell up. He had more important things to do.

Like figure out what Yao was planning. He listened closely, thankful for the first time that this part of Berlin was abandoned like it was. Yao's voice traveled all the way across the street and down the alley.

"From what I've heard, the other nations are being kept in a safe house on the south side of the city, but the government is planning to move them tonight. There's a lot of European countries there, as well both America and Canada and the parallel ones. We also have the parallel Germany to deal with. If they manage to catch up to Ivan, they may cause us trouble, so I think a preemptive strike is in order. When they're being transferred from the safe house to the airport, I want you all to attack. I've already sent the same orders to the other group on that side of that city, so you'll meet up with them when you arrive there. Do what you must to cause them significant damage. The only nations you're not allowed to kill are the two Canadas. Anyone else is fair game. Understood?"

The guards nodded silently. Feliciano tried to process all this. Firstly, Ludwig was here! He was here somewhere in Berlin along with everyone else! He smiled. Finally, he could meet back up with Ludwig. He'd been sure Ludwig would be far away from here by now, somewhere that Feliciano could never hope to get to. But he was here! Right under his nose somewhere. And Yao was offering a chance for him to find his lover. All he had to do was follow the guards. And at the same time, he could stop them from hurting anyone, thus proving to Ludwig and the assassin bastard that he wasn't useless! Ha! That would teach them.

He continued to silently watch them for several more minutes while Yao rattled off the specific locations. Feliciano had no clue where any of those places where, but he figured he could just follow them to find out. Finally, Yao told them head out, and Feliciano watched as Yao parted from the crowd with two personal guards. Feliciano was almost tempted to follow him and attempt to take him down, but he wasn't stupid. Yao was probably a lot more skilled in combat than he let on. He let all those guards protect him, but he was probably stronger than most of them put together. So Feliciano would let Yao go and follow the group of lackeys instead. They quickly marched down the street, and Feliciano followed them on the opposite side of the buildings, checking every few seconds to make sure he was on the right track.

He did this for nearly two hours. Then the men came to a stop. Feliciano peered around a corner at them, wondering what they were doing. They just seemed to be loitering in front a nondescript building, doing absolutely nothing of—

He ducked, barely avoiding the knife that sliced through the air above his head. Oh. He'd been caught. He whipped around and punched the man as hard he could in the abdomen, sending the black-clad guard to the ground. The man gasped, clutching his stomach, and his knife bounced off pavement. Feliciano darted for it and picked it up just as two other men made it to the end of the alley, their companions not far behind. He had the two handguns, but he was really outnumbered this time. It was twice as bad as before. Thinking quickly, he spotted a fire escape on the side of a nearby building, and he rushed toward it, leaping on top of a trashcan and then jump straight up to reached the raised ladder of the escape. He hauled himself up it and started heading up the levels of the escape, knowing the men were right behind him. He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to do, but he was thinking as fast as he could.

When he got the top level, he kicked the window in, ignoring the spray of glass that threatened to cut his legs. He dove into the apartment, and quickly looked around, his ears acutely aware of the legion of guards loudly ascending the fire escape. Then he spotted something he hadn't been expecting: a gas oven. He rushed over to it, pulled it open, practically ripped the igniter out, and turned it on. As soon as he smelled the gas, he was up and shuffling quickly through all the kitchen draws until he found was he was looking for in what appeared to be a junk drawer: matches. He rushed toward the front of door of the apartment and nearly broke the door down trying to get out. Seconds later, as he reached the door that led to the roof, he heard the first of guards begin to invade the apartment. He smiled to himself and rapidly made his way to the rooftop. It was threatening to rain again, he noticed absently as he ran across the roof. He peered over the edge of the roof just as the last of the guards filed in.

Smiling ruefully to himself, he jumped from the room and down onto the fire escape, cringing as the impact pulled at his stab wounds. Without pause, he tore out a match, lit it, and tossed into the now gas-ridden apartment. He dropped to his stomach just as a massive ball of flame shot out the window, and he tried to ignore the screams of the dying guards inside. He'd always hated violence with a passion. Everyone else always seemed so bent on it. Let's have this war! Let's have that war! Let's invade so-and-so! War and fighting had always left a nasty taste in his mouth, and now was no exception.

He rolled over and sighed, pulling off his stolen leather gloves and prodding the back of his hair, making sure it wasn't on fire. He rose shakily to his feet, cringing at the fumes from the still burning fire. He knew a much larger explosion could engulf the building at any time, so he quickly headed back the down the fire escape. It was when he was back on the street level and two blocks away that the building finally went, and the shockwave alone sent him tumbling down. He ducked into another alley as debris came raining down. And then the rain itself followed.

Slowly and calmly, taking deep breaths, he pulled a stolen compact umbrella out and used it to shield himself from the rain. He didn't want have to steal anymore clothes, though he'd wished several times that he'd chosen something different. He'd only realized that the long black coat and leather gloves made him look like the assassin bastard after he'd already left the store. Then again, the jeans and plain white shirt offset the effect, so at least that was something. Just before he started to head off, sure the explosion would attract the authorities, he realized he was shaking. He looked closely at his hands. The one around the umbrella could barely hold the thing straight, and the one resting at his side couldn't stop twitching its fingers. He sighed deeply and shook his head.

He could try to act brave all he wanted, but he just wasn't like everyone else. Every time he saw a weapon, his heart raced. Every time he heard about an approaching war, he had the urge to lock himself in his room and never come out. He wasn't a coward. He could fight if he wanted to. But he just…he hated it. He found himself sniffing, and he scowled, biting back tears. Without the guards, he had no clue how to find Ludwig. For all he knew, they could have been leading him in the wrong direction for some time. But then he realized something—just as he heard the approaching helicopters. Wouldn't the police and firemen be coming from the direction in which everyone had evacuated to? He searched for the helicopters in the sky and spotted them in the distance. It was a long shot, but he remembered the names of the streets and buildings that Yao had spoken of. If he could just make it to a populated area, he could ask for directions. So he ducked back into the alleyways and started off on yet another journey.

Ludwig sat silently in the car seat, an equally silent Feliciano next to him. They were traveling in a convoy of unmarked black cars, heading toward another different airport that would escort them to an even safer location in the countryside. They were leaving Berlin now. Leaving Berlin and leaving…He had begged Gilbert to let him join in the search, but his brother had declined. He eyed the pale-haired man sitting in the front seat. He had refused to speak to Gilbert since then, and he'd almost had to have both Americas drag him forcefully out of the safe house and into the car. He'd only relented at the last moment.

Now he was getting further away from his lover every second. For all he knew, Feliciano was laying in the street somewhere, hurt and dying. And it would be all his fault. All of it. If he hadn't been so insistent on protecting Feliciano in the first place, then this never would have happened. Feliciano would have come with them safely to Paris, and he would have been able to protect Feliciano during the attack on the conference center. But instead, he'd left Feliciano here, and this had happened.

A hand landed on his knee, and he glanced the darker replica of his lover sitting next to him. Sharp brown eyes flicked toward him. "Keep yourself calm." He whispered. "Gilbert has tons of people searching for him, Ludwig. I know you're scared, but you must remember: if we lose to Russia, it won't just be your Italy that is in danger. Not to mention that if we lose and your Italy is still in Berlin somewhere, then he will trapped in this world indefinitely. The best we can do at this point is push forward, for his sake as well as the world's."

Ludwig allowed the man to calm him down this time, but he knew very well that the former assassin was telling him what he wanted to hear. They were assuming that Feliciano was alive somewhere out there, but he could already be long gone. He could already—

"Stop the car!" Feliciano screamed.

The driver slammed on the breaks just in time to avoid a massive explosion. Feliciano pushed him against the door. "Out! We're being targeted!" Ludwig immediately switched into battle mode, unlocked the door, and rolled out of the vehicle, using it as cover as a spray of bullet chipped away at the asphalt. The other cars in the convoy had pulled to a halt, and the nations were pouring out and taking cover as the government agents lined up and returned fire. A line of black-clad figures were aiming at them from the rooftops, and Ludwig realized that, once again, Russia was one step ahead of them. He pulled out the handgun tucked in his belt and crouched behind a row of hedges, aiming and shooting the best he could. But the enemy was well-armed, and a legion of handguns couldn't have stopped them.

Several of the agents went down, and Ludwig spotted both Americas and both Canadas returning fire. The two Englands were hauling an injured Denmark toward cover. They were outmatched here. The enemy had the high ground, superior weapons, and…He paused as something strange began to happen. Three of the black-clad men fell from the rooftop in quick succession, and Ludwig quickly realized that someone on their side was fighting back from the roof with a rifle. He couldn't see the person who was helping, but several of Yao's guards broke off from the main line and rushed out of sight.

No more than five seconds passed before a massive explosion rocked the rooftop, sending nearly the entire line of men cascading over the edge. Ludwig looked away as most of them fell them fells to their deaths. But they didn't have the advantage for long. Several more guards suddenly poured out of the doors of the buildings, fully armed and ready to attack. Except they had now lost their high ground advantage, and Ludwig began to easily pluck them off with his gun. He quickly glanced around himself to survey the situation again and realized something. Where was Feliciano?

He got his answer almost immediately as several guards dropped dead, knives embedded in their necks and skulls. Feliciano had infiltrated the line, and he was rapidly taking them down, two, three at a time. Ludwig once again watched, astounded, as Feliciano's graceful and deadly moves mowed down almost ever remaining guard in seconds. The rest of them retreated without further prompting, and Feliciano allowed them to get away. He marched back toward the group of nations, and Ludwig met him halfway.

"We need to get out of here. Now. Preferably before we get ambushed again." The Italian said coldly.

"What about the person helping us?" Ludwig asked, searching the roofline for any sign of the mysterious aide.

"Hm? Oh. Who knows? Whoever it was probably died in the explosion. If someone up there on the roof set it off, then it was unlikely anyone up there escaped from it."

"Shouldn't we go look? Whoever it was saved our lives."

Feliciano shot him a glare. "And if we dawdle here, we still might lose them. Who knows how many other guards Yao has here. He could have an army coming after us." He sighed. "Look, I'm eternally grateful to whoever was up there helping us, but we just don't have time to go searching through a steadily collapsing building for them, Ludwig." He nodded toward the building for emphasis.

Ludwig glanced at it again and realized the man was right. The building was on the verge of collapse. They wouldn't even be able to search it period, and anyone who may have been in it or on top of it was probably already dead. He felt guilty for leaving whoever it was behind, and he silently thanked the unknown savior.

"West, we need to go!" Gilbert called from the nearest car. "We've got a lot of injured nations. I've already called the medics. They're waiting at the airport."

Ludwig kept his eyes trained on the building for a moment longer, a strange feeling in his chest. He felt like he was missing something here. Finally, he shook his head. "Yeah, let's go."

Dro: Hm...I wonder who it could have been? -shakes head- Ludwig, you dumb ass!

Next Chapter: The conclusion of the beginning of Italy's personal arc. And finally, a long-awaited character returns!