So, same thing as last time! Everything in bold is the hetalia narrator speaking.
I don't own hetalia...clearly I'm not a Japanese man named Hidekaz Himaruya. ^_^
When we last saw Britain and France, they were hastily trying to escape their prison. Unfortunately for them, they were caught by Germany and promptly returned. I wonder what escape attempt they'll try next. Something tells me it's not going to work anyway…but, what do I know? I'm just the omniscient underpaid narrator! Kolkolkol!
"Italy, Listen to me very carefully," Germany urged, placing a stern hand on the young man's shoulder. "I'm going home to take care of some vork but I'll be back soon. So I'm trusting you to look after the prisoners vhile I'm gone."
"Huh? No! That's terrible! I don't like this idea at all!" cried Italy as he clung to Germany's leg. "Please don't leave me alone with them!"
"Release me this Instant! You're messing up my blousing straps!" grunted the German, struggling to shake off his sobbing friend.
"But what if they try to escape again!" Italy whimpered.
Germany finally succeeded in freeing himself, "That von't happen again! I've already made the necessary adjustments to their cell. It's completely escape proof."
"…..you said that last time!"
"I said I made the necessary adjustments!" Shouted Germany as a giant vein popped in his forehead. "You vill stay here vith the prisoners und enjoy it! But if you have any problems then call me."
He instantly stormed off only to be followed by a whimpering Italy.
Meanwhile, Britain and France rotted away in their new cell!
"Stupid Germany! Throwing us in here like a sack of his raw potatoes! I can't believe he installed steel floors!" complained Britain as he paced back and forth across the cell floor. "He'll never get away with this, damn it! He and those stupid macaroni brothers will pay dearly. He'll see! They'll all see!"
"Shut-up already," France whined. "Talking to yourself makes you seem crazier than usual."
"I don't see you coming up with a way out of this dump!" Britain fired back.
"Zat is where you're wrong. I have already come up with a grandmaster plan," said France with a wink. "One that is so perfect it cannot fail!"
"I can't wait to hear this one," Britain scoffed, crossing his arms.
"I have taken ze liberty of assembling some fashionable disguises!" France proclaimed as he removed revealed and entire closet of women's clothing.
"What? When did you do all of this?" Britain angrily demanded.
"While you were busy yaking away," France laughed. "Now here, put on this disguise."
France handed Britain a frilly pink dress with a long blonde wig.
"Are you insane? I refused to wear woman's clothing!" he snorted.
"Your tacky little plan failed. Now we will do things my way," France declared, as he undressed himself.
"What are you doing? I said I didn't want to see your ass!" Britain shouted, turning away from the naked man.
"Zer is no time for that now, Britain," France responded, stepping into a blue dress. "Here is ze plan…we pose as Italian women and easily slip out of the country. Simple, no?"
"Oh come on! This dress isn't even my size!" he complained, holding the dress out in front of himself. "Why is the bust so large? Whoever tailored these garments needs to be fired immediately."
"Hon, hon! Behold the power of the melon!" France proclaimed, holding out 2 melons in front of him. "Stick them down your blouse and ta-da, instant boob job!"
"You….you can't be serious?" Britain asked with bewilderment. "Do you truely believe I'll stick two melons down my chest?"
France neatly placed on his wig, "but of course! Otherwise you will lack appeal. Not that you don't lack appeal anyway. Compared to myself, I'm not sure you'd make a very appealing woman."
Britain's face turned bright red with anger, "are you saying that you'd make a prettier girl then I would?"
"Silly Britain, was that not obvious enough!" laughed France, twirling around in his dress. "No matter what I wear, my gorgeousness will always flunk yours. It burns like the flame of a thousand suns!"
"I don't think so! Pass me the melons!" demanded Britain, pulling the dress over his head. "I can be just as pretty you, frog!"
"Tough talk for somebody with caterpillar eyebrows in desperate need of a waxing," France jabbed, powdering his wig. "Now hurry up before Germany comes back. We will have a better chance getting out of here without his intervention."
"Look at me; I'm as pretty as a princess!" France happily exclaimed, twirling around. "This dress shows off my delicate little curves!"
"What kind of man has curves?" Britain grumpily replied as he angrily crossed his arms. He was completely dolled up from head to toe. "Okay, we're dressed. What's next on your ridiculous agenda? In case you forgot, we can't dig our way out of here! Germany installed steel floors."
"A proper lady never goes anywhere without a hair pin," said France, pulling a pin from his wig. He then proceeded to slide his hand through the bar and jam the pin into the lock.
"I'm beginning to think you're having too much fun with this," said Britain warily.
After awhile, France popped open the lock and pushed open the door. The two "women" checked to see if the coast was clear before exiting the cell. France quickly darted ahead, leaving Britain to catch up.
"France, get back here!" yelled Britain, stumbling after him. "Damn it, these shoes are like death traps! How do women walk in these?"
"A proper lady has mastered ze art of running in heels," called France over his shoulder.
Britain blinked in confusion, "France, I really wonder about you."
"Come along my little black sheep! We have to hurry if we're ever to get out of this country alive," France responded.
Alright everyone, time for a history lesson! Yes, you read that right! I said history lesson! During WW2 the Germans created a POW camp for special Allied prisoners. And by special prisoners I mean, prisoners who constantly made escape attempts under the enemy's nose. So any prisoner who made this "special list" were transferred the German camp known as Colditz Castle. It was supposed to be escape proof, hence why all those troubling making POW's were sent there. But there was just one tiny problem with this camp. It was filled with attempted escapees! Essentially, Camp Coldtiz became somewhat of an escape academy. Even though it was supposed to be a high security prison, it has one of the highest records of successful escape attempts. The POW's camp up with many interesting ways to escape their German prison. Of courses, escaping the camp the camp was only step 1. They still needed to travel out of German territory, which was the real hard part. That's the main reason why so many POW's caught. But, that didn't stop them from scheming up new ways to trick the Germans. Seriously, one group even built a glider plane without the Germans knowing! But the Allies showed up soon after so they never got a chance to fly it. Didn't think you'd learn anything from fanfiction, did you?
"Okay, I can do this," Italy murmured to himself as he trudged down the hall. He carried with him a large pan of pasta.
It looks like our friend Italy has taken matters into his own hands.
"Germany left me in charge. He trusts me. I can't let him down. I'll just leave the pasta near the cage and run away. Oh, why couldn't Romano do this instead? Why do I have to do it! I don't want to get near Britain and Big Brother France! What if they evilly glare at me from behind the bars again?"
Italy dropped the entire pan of pasta when he discovered the cell door was wide open. The two prisoners were nowhere in sight. Italy ran around like a headless chicken as he screamed to the top of his lungs.
"Oh no! Britain and Big Brother France have escaped and are somewhere loose in my house!" he screamed. "What do I do? What do I do?"
He suddenly stopped running and looked toward a random phone on the wall. He quickly grabbed the receiver and placed it to his ear.
"I know, I should call Germany!" he happily exclaimed. But he paused just as he was about to dial the first number. "No, I don't want to bother Germany. He has a lot of work to do. Besides, he'd probably just yell at me! I know, I'll call Japan! He'll know what to do!"
Italy quickly dialed Japan's number as he worriedly looked back at the empty prison cell. He listened in agony as he waited for the ringing to cease. Finally, the ringing stopped and a voice greeted him from the other end.
"Moshi moshi, this is Japan speaking. How may I be of service to you?" replied the soft spoken country.
"Japan! It's me, Italy!" shouted Italy on the verge of panicking.
"Mr. Itary? What is the matter? You sound as if you just take huge shit in pants."
"I have an even bigger problem! Germany caught Britain and Big Brother France snooping around my house so now I have to take care of them! But Germany went back home for a little bit and left me here with them! I went to go make them some pasta but when I came to give it to them, I found their cage empty. They've escaped somewhere! They could be planning to hit me with sticks as we speak!"
Japan took a deep breath, "that is very interesting predicament.
"You gotta help me catch them!" Italy wailed, bitting his fingernails.
"One moment prease, I need to sense the mood," Japan replied.
"Huh? You can do that over the phone?" Italy wondered.
"Hai, I have mad skill,"
Italy continued to look over his shoulder in case the escapees tried to take him by surprise. He impatiently waited for Japan to finish. After what seemed like ages, Italy finally heard his friend's voice again.
"I have finished sensing the mood, Mr. Itary," Japan announced. "And I have made a decision."
Italy's face lit up with joy, "you have?"
"Hai, I'rr think about it," Japan answered. "Sayonara, Mr. Itary."
"No wait!" he begged, but it was too late. Japan had already hung up. "Oh, I hate when he says one thing but means the complete opposite. What am I gonna do now?"
It looks like Japan doesn't really want to get involved in Italy's crazy antics. Speaking of crazy antics…..
"Now remember, we are dignified Italian women. It is not enough to look the part we must also act the part," said France, as he coached Britain.
The two of them were casually walking through the streets, trying not to attract any attention to themselves. They'd successfully escaped from Italy's personal home, now they just needed to get out of his country. If they could just get to the boarder, they'd be fine.
"Oh please, how hard could it be?" Britain questioned.
"Ciao bella!" greeted Romano from afar.
"Oh no! It's Southern Italy! And he's coming this way," France whined. "He'll ruin all of our plans."
"Eh, C-ciao señor," he Britain answered back.
"Psst," France whispered, "señor is Spanish, you fool! We're supposed to be Italian, remember?"
"Then what do Italians say?" he whispered back.
"I don't know,"
"Then why are you giving me such a hard time if you don't know yourself?"
"Because, French and Italian are pretty similar," France giddily responded. "I'm sure I can figure it out as we go along. See, that's the beauty of speaking a fellow romance language. They are all extremely similar characteristics. You wouldn't understand."
"Well excuse me for being influenced by the anglo-saxons!"
"Silence, and use zis to conceal your face," ordered France, shoving a fan into his hand. "If he blows our cover we're dead!"
"Hey, do I know you two from somewhere?" asked Romano. "You look familiar."
"Oh, no I don'ta think so," said France in his girliest voice possible.
"But I know practically every beautiful woman in this country," said Romano. "Hey, wait a second. You're not spies, are you?"
"Um….ve?, of course not," said Britain. "We're borna and raised in Italy. That's right!"
"Oh good, for a second there I thought you might be the enemy in disguise!" Romano laughed. "I should've known better than to suspect such beautiful women."
"Ve, Whata nice compliment. Well, we're gonna go now," said Britain tugging France away. "We, uh, left some pasta in the oven. Don't want to let it over cook! Ve!"
Romano watched as the two "women" began walking away from him.
"Such beautiful women in deed. Especially the one with the green eyes," Romano beamed.
"Romano!" cried Italy, jumping on his brothers back. "Britain and France have escaped again!"
Romano's face instantly dropped, "You idiot! How could you let them loose in the house? Weren't you supposed to be watching them? I'm gonna make you eat meat pudding for this!"
He angrily shook his younger brother to tears as he tried to fight back his own.
"I was! I just turned my back for one second and they were gone! Gone I tell you, gone!" shouted Italy. "And Germany's gone too! He went back home this morning!"
Romano dropped his brother and frantically rolled around on the ground.
"How could that potato loving bastard leave us here alone like this? That good for nothing scumbag!" he squealed.
"Romano, don't cry," said Italy, attempting to console him.
"I'm not crying; I'm sweating through my tear ducts!" He lied
He stopped rolling around when he found a shiny object on the ground. When discovered it was a fancy watch. It looked far too feminine to belong to a man.
"Hey, this must belong to one of those two young women I just met," he said standing up. "Oh, there they are. They haven't gotten very far."
"Excuse me! Hey, Ladies, did one of you drop a watch?" he shouted.
But when he received no answer, he decided to deliver it to them instead.
"Wait, Romano! Where are you going? Don't leave me out in the open by myself!" shouted Italy as he trotted after him.
Unfortunately for Britain and France, they didn't hear Romano calling out to them. So they had no time to conceal their faces with their fans. So when Romano suddenly whipped out in front of them, well…..let's just say that all 3 of them were surprised.
"Excuse me, did one of you drop…your…." Romano froze with fear once he got a closer look at the two women. "Ah! It's Britain and France in women's clothing! I can't believe I was so close to them without even knowing it!"
Italy appeared not long after, "Good job Brother. You found Big Brother France and Britain!Huh? Wait…..you found Big Brother France and Britain! Oh no, I don't want to die!"
"Run for it!" Britain instructed.
France and Britain made a break for the Italian boarder. They were so close; they could practically taste the French air. But just as they were diving towards the boarder, they were immediately yanked backwards.
"Und just vhere do the two of you think you're going?" questioned Germany, hoisted them both up by their collars.
"Germany! You came back!" shouted Italy, running up to them.
"Why did you catch them again? They were almost out of the country!" complained Romano.
"What are you doing back so soon?"
"Japan called. He explained everything to me," said Germany, carrying away the prisoners. "Italy, I told you to call me if you ran into any trouble."
"I know, I just didn't want to bother you with nonsense," said Italy.
"I suppose it was my fault for leaving you here alone with them,"
"You're damn right it was your fault!" shouted Romano with rage.
"Unhand me," demanded Britain as he and France were dragged away.
"This is no proper way to treat a lady!" screeched France.
"Will you shut-up? The charade is over!"
"Maybe so," said France, fluffing up his wig. "But I was still the prettier one."
"Oh, no you don't! I was the prettier one! Romano was flirting with me, not you!"
"No, it's with m because I am prettier!"
"No! I'm prettier!"
"I am!"
"I am, you nitwit!"
"Ugh….sometimes I really hate my job," uttered Germany as he tried to block out the stupid argument. "Töten mir jetzt."