This chapter was a lot of fun to write c: It wasn't as much fun to edit xP

Chapter 2
Blood red roses and piano keys

Italy knocked on the door, stretching his fingers in an attempt to chase the weariness from them. It didn't take long for a kind face to answer. Hungary smiled brightly, though the dark and fearful undertones were oh so visible,

"I wasn't expecting to see you out and about, Italy!" She said in a half-hearted cheerful tone as she ushered him in "I mean, you have heard about Japan, haven't you?"

"I have." He said in an emotionless tone, relishing in the shiver his cold voice sent down Hungary's spine.

"O-oh." She stuttered, unsure of how to respond "Can I get you something to drink?" She asked as she invited Italy to sit down.

"Water would be nice." He smiled slightly, waiting for her to leave; he needed only a moment to escape and find a way to make them all pay.

"I'll get you a glass." She told him "Just wait right here and make yourself at home" She jumped at the chance to leave, as if she knew that there was something up with the young Italian.

He waited until she was out of sight to stand. He knew his way around the house by searching the memories associated with this host body. It wasn't hard to find the piano room, though he doubted he would have had any trouble without previous experience in the house; the sound of the piano gave it away. However, before he could open the door that led into the room, he caught sight of the slightest movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned, and much to his surprise he saw a flash of blue as a certain perverted country tried to make his escape. He had only been planning to kill two birds with his stone, but why not make it three?

He quietly followed France, unable to keep the smirk off his face at the thought of making the French country pay for his wandering hands. He closed his eyes to look like normal and reached out just as France was about to climb out the window, his hand clasping down on the blond nation's shoulder and yanking him back.

"Ah! I swear I was not watching you, Austria!" He turned around to face his captor, his expression relaxing when he saw it was only Italy "Oh, mon petit Italie! You gave me such a fright!" He flipped his hair dramatically, studying the bright red rose he held in one hand.

"Ve, if I gave you such a fright, then perhaps you should run: your first instinct is often your best." Italy told him blandly.

"Quoi? You are speaking non-sense, Italie!" He laughed nervously, toying with the rose's petals.

"Am I really?" Italy questioned innocently, snatching the rose from France.

"Hey! Give that back, Italie!" He ordered, reaching for the rose.

Italy slapped his hand away "Should have run while you had the chance."

He barely had time to utter a word of protest before Italy was pinning him against a wall and shoving the rose down his throat with a hand stronger than he had thought Italy capable of. He tried to cry for help, but Italy forced the rose deep into his throat, blocking off his air and preventing him from uttering anything but choked cries, not quite loud enough over the piano to bring help. A thorn that he had neglected to removed dug into his throat, causing him to cough up blood around Italy's hand. His face began to turn blue, and all sorts of lovely shades of purple as blood bubbled at his mouth. Italy couldn't but compare it to the rose that was now being used against France.

Italy watched it all with a sick delight, relishing in the feeling of the Frenchman's life draining ever so slowly. All fun however, eventually comes to an end, and the sound of footsteps coming down the hall brought Italy's amusement to a halt. Hungary must have gotten the water for Italy, and upon seeing his absence had gone to look for him.

Italy let go of France, letting the unconscious man slump to the ground with the rose still shoved down his throat, stopping him from pulling in the air he desperately needed. He wiped the blood from his hands on France's clothes and smiled sadistically as he shoved the body around the corner of the hall and out of sight. He closed one hand over the other, hiding the last of the blood from prying eyes. He turned just as Hungary entered the hall, holding her frying pan at the ready.

"Ve~" Italy cried and bounded up to her—there no use stirring anymore suspicion in her by acting emotionless. "I came here to talk to Austria and I thought I could find him on my own! I'm so sorry! Please don't hurt me!"

Hungary felt a soft smile grace her features, glad to hear Italy acting like normal "That's quite alright, Italy, Austria is just through that door." She paused "Oh, and were you just talking to someone? I could have sworn I heard voices..."

"Oh! That was just big brother France!" He told her with an innocent smile.

"France?" She questioned, gripping the frying pan tighter, obviously thinking about the recent murders. If only she knew "What was he doing here?"

Italy shrugged "He went that way if you want to ask him yourself..." He motioned around the corner, where he had left the dying man, who was by this point surely dead or close to it.

Hungary nodded "I think I will do that, go ahead and talk to Austria. I'll just be a moment." She cautiously crept around Italy to where he had pointed, lifting her frying pan slightly.

He waited for a moment until she was directly behind him, pulling a huge butcher's knife out of his uniform. He allowed a smile to play on his lips and just as Hungary caught sight of France, he stabbed it into her back, driving it straight through her heart and out the other side. The knife cut her scream short with a gurgle, barely letting the sound escape before she fell limp to the ground beside France. The cast-iron pan hit the floor beside France with a muted thud.

Italy couldn't help the cruel laughter that bubbled at his lips as he left the two corpses to work on the last goal of this little stop: Austria. He had unknowingly been playing very fitting music throughout Italy's visit. Italy gently opened the door, not yet earning the piano-inclined nation's attention. He closed it behind him quietly before approaching Austria.

"Mr. Austria?" He asked innocently, his voice soft and nervous.

Austria pulled his hands away from keys and turned to look at the small nation "Hello there, Italy, I wasn't expecting you."

"No." Italy agreed "You probably weren't expecting to die today either."

"Die?" Austria echoed, confusion settling on his face "What do you mean?"

"Oh, so you didn't hear any of the delightful screams over your piano! That's too bad, they were really quite lovely." Italy giggled.

"Screams?" Austria demanded, his voice tilting upwards with distress "What are you talking about, Italy?"

"Nothing much, only that I just killed France and Hungary" Italy told him, sounding bored and indifferent.

"K-killed them?" He stuttered and paled to look as white as his piano keys "No... You're not the murderer, you're too—"

Italy cut him off "Innocent? Yeah, Italy is pretty innocent." Austria looked confused, and maybe even startled at his use of third-person, so he continued "You see, I'm not exactly Italy, I'm just borrowing his body long-term." He explained "Don't worry yourself over the details." His hand snaked out faster than Austria could avoid it, wrapping around his throat and lifting him off the bench.

Austria struggled in the air, shocked by the strength Italy was showing. He reached up to tear Italy's hand off his neck to restore the airflow to his lungs, but found Italy's hand locked impossibly tight around his throat.

"I-Italy!" He managed to choke out with the last of his air "Don't do this!"

"Trying to appeal to my sense of mercy?" Italy laughed, his lips twitching into a smile "It's too bad I have none" He slammed Austria down into the top of the grand piano, cracking the wood and a few of Austria's bones, along with snapping almost every string in the piano much to Austria's horror. He let go, smiling at the red marks left on Austria's neck "Hm." He mused "Such a shame that I'm going to have to ruin this piano to kill you. It's a lovely instrument."

Austria writhed in agony, but every movement only made the jagged edges dig deeper into his broken body "W-why are you doing this?"

"Because I don't break my promises." He brought the lid down hard over Austria, smiling darkly as he felt the sharp crack of bones and the tear of flesh under the wooden lid as blood seeped and leaked from the cracks.

He searched the lid for a lock of some sort, feeling Austria still struggling beneath it, pressed against the now splintered wood of the piano. He found something he assumed was a lock and clicked it shut, leaving Austria to writhe in his own blood against the snapped strings and broken wood until unconsciousness overcame him, and let him drift to death in the embrace of his beloved piano.

Italy smiled at the scene, touching his finger briefly to the blood and brushing it against his lips. He turned and left, barely throwing a second glance at the ruined and bloody piano, or the two bodies in the hall, one of which now had a bloodied hand and a rose dripping with the dark substance in his lap. At the sight there was the slightest stir in Italy's mind, some feeble force flinching and struggling against an unmovable wall.

I don't own Hetalia! Let me know how you like it so far, and feel free to leave me suggestions or point out my mistakes. I don't bite!