Copyrights: Story© Me, characters© Hidekaz Himaruya
Summary: The characters of Hetalia face danger in the World W Academy. Ivan, a teacher gone mad starts attacking the students who stay after school the Friday before Spring Break. What will happen? AU USUK Character deaths
Chapter Three
There he stood, forcing the other teacher's hand to the ceiling. Romaji had just saved his life. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he snapped. His gold coin eyes glared at the other teacher next to him.
The platinum blond haired man's venomous eyes slid over and locked with Mr. Vargas' gaze, more tense, and glaring harsher than the teen pressed against the wall thought possible. The teachers turned and faced each other. Light and dark eyes met harshly. The expression of the brown-haired teacher was one of disgust. He kept a firm grip on the Russian teacher's arm. Mr. Braginski's face was one of complete and utter hatred. His grip on the gun was tense and unrelenting. It seemed that the teachers were trying to glare each other into oblivion.
The air was tense and all the students stood, their breath caught in their throats. Alfred shifted a bit, and saw that Mr. Braginski was ignoring him for the moment. The blond took the opportunity to run behind him and over to the other teens. Arthur and Matthew stood up to meet him. The blonds each rested a hand on Alfred's shoulder as he turned to watch the teachers.
Purple eyes were following the American carefully, cunningly. He looked as though he were planning something. The History teacher's arm went tense, then relaxed. Mr. Braginski sighed and looked over at Mr. Vargas. "I don't know..." he muttered.
Golden eyes trailed down to the gun in the other teacher's hand. Romaji released his wrist and went for the gun. Before he could reach it the weapon the arm flew up to point the gun at his head. "Actually I do," the small Russian voice curled. Mr. Vargas' eyes grew wide and the thunder erupted once more, but this time with screams. The History teacher's eyes were on the American as he fired, a smile on his face as if to say "this will be you. Just wait."
All the teen's faces paled as the Detention teacher slumped to his knees and fell to the floor. When his face smashed against the floor there was a slight cracking noise. After a few seconds of staring blood started to seep out from under the curly hair. Sobs and screams of distress were the only sound in the room and the only movement was two Italians being held back from their father's corpse by a Spaniard and a German.
The gun then turned towards Alfred once more. "Now where were we?" the Russian smirked. The room seemed to grow cold and time seemed to have stopped. The sobbing and screaming of the Italians had ceased to whimpers and hiccups. All eyes were on the American or the Russian.
All except for one pair. Soft green eyes had been staring at the wall in a sleepy manner as this all happened. A mat of soft brown hair raised itself from a desk silently. He sat, unnoticed, and within the teacher's blind spot. A drowsy, neutral face stared at Romaji's corpse for a moment before it snapped harshly to the History teacher. The drowsiness was gone, replaced by utter hatred and alertness. The Greek slid silently from his desk and walked on cat's feet over to the Russian.
Sharp, light gold eyes slid over and spotted the Greek. The pair made eye contact for a split second and the Turkish student found himself free of the tension he had a few seconds ago. His eyes slid over to the teacher, and he stood from his desk. The purple eyes caught the movement and flicked over to him. "Don't try to be a hero, da?" Mr. Braginski's voice sung. His fingers tightened on the trigger and Alfred's eyes grew wider. Everyone tensed except for the Turk and the Greek who was behind the teacher now.
"And what if I do?" Sadiq smirked. "What would you do?" he asked. The dark haired teen started making his way over to the teacher. The Russian responded quickly and his aim was set on a new target. He was about to fire when his arms were yanked from behind and forced behind his back. The Turkish student took his time getting over, enjoying how Heracles and Mr. Braginski struggled. When he reached the pair he quickly kicked the teacher in the gut, forcing both him and the student behind him to the ground. The air rushed out of the Greek's lungs and his grip slipped. The Russian quickly rolled away and stumbled to his feet. He glared for a couple seconds at all the students before running out of the room.
The room was still until Heracles groaned, "You sure took your sweet time there, asshole."
"That's 'cause I wanted to see him turn around and shoot you in your stupid face, pussy. Besides, you held him pretty well," Sadiq pointed out, offering a hand to his rival. The teen on the ground took his hand and allowed the other to pull him to his feet. The pair turned and looked at everyone else.
"Th-thank you..." Alfred whispered. He felt numb and wasn't sure as to whether he should be thankful. The pair nodded in return and then glanced over at the rest of the room. Gilbert had moved and was helping his brother comfort the Italian who had fallen to his knees and was currently sobbing into the German's chest. Francis moved to stand by his step-brother and Matthew.
Sadiq felt a pang of pity, he wasn't very close to Lovino, but the pair had held a few friendly squabbles. He walked over with a frown to where the elder Italian brother was cursing loudly between sobs and struggling against Antonio's grip. The Turk rested a hand on the brother's head and ruffled his hair lightly. The darker-haired Italian stared up at him for a moment before going limp in the Spaniard's arms. Antonio pulled him into a hug and the other turned around in the embrace and hugged him back, sobbing into his shoulder.
"I-I think it would be best if we all left now... You all can finish your detentions after this is reported to the police," the Brit muttered. He started steering Alfred out of the door.
"We gotta get our stuff," the American muttered, getting out of Arthur's grip. He grabbed his bag as did everyone else and left the room. They all looked cautiously around the hallway as they walked. Alfred and Arthur walked in the front and Heracles and Sadiq waked in back.
It seemed like ages that the group walked in the tense silence of their footsteps. The only noises they had heard was the sniffling and the occasional sputter of Feliciano and Lovino. The closest door out was finally in sight when Gilbert froze. Everyone paused and looked at him. The albino seemed to be paler than usual. His lilac-ruby eyes grew twice their normal size and realization seemed to spread over his face. He stood still only a moment before bolting out of the group and running past the door.
"Bruder?" Ludwig jumped. The self-proclaimed Prussian did not stop; he kept running down the hall as fast as he could. No one really wished to go after him and leave the safety of the group. But Alfred, Alfred had a hero complex. The American bit his lip then ran after him. Once the blond was set in motion so was everyone else.
Once they caught up to the albino, they all froze. He was standing in the doorway of the front office, a room with glass walls. Everyone stared wide-eyed in it. Blood was splattered on the walls and seeping into the cracks between the tiles upon the floor. The secretary was slumped over the front desk, a hole through her head that was dripping blood onto the tiles.
"Vater?" Gilbert whispered. Ludwig set Feliciano down and stared over his older brother's shoulder. The brothers crept slowly into the office, everyone following silently. They stepped over broken flower pots and shattered glass until they reached a doorway with a name plate and room number next to it that read:
O:5
Principal
Beilschmidt
A chill set over the room as they opened the door. Within the room was a million papers scattered about the floor messily. The computer monitor was on the floor with a huge hole in the screen about the size of a foot. Only the German brothers ventured into the room. They walked around the desk and their blood froze. On the other side, in front of the chair, which was slammed against the far wall, lay Mr. Beilschmidt a hole through his chest and blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.
"F...fick ich," the albino muttered which his brother stared wide-eyed at their father. A few tears started building within their eyes. Ludwig silently ignored them. He turned and left the office, calmly. Once outside of the room he turned and backed into the far wall where he stared into the room. Their was despair welling in him, but he mainly felt numb. This was all too unreal.
Feliciano had followed him out and sat next to him. The Italian leaned on his shoulder and looked up at Ludwig sadly. "Mi dispiace," he whispered.
"Es tut mir leid zu, Feli, es tut mir leid," the blond replied.
The other German brother leaned down and took his adoptive father's hand which was quickly chilling. "Verdammt..." Gilbert whispered. "Verdammt!" he snapped. The albino let go, practically throwing it down, and wiped a tear that was about to spill onto his cheek roughly. He stood and punched the desk. "Gott fickin verdammt!" He shouted. The albino turned and kicked the chair behind the desk over, streaming profanities. After few minutes of destroying the room more, he calmed down and stood still for a moment, taking heaving breaths, before heading out of the office and muttering, "Lets get out of this damned place." a few tears hanging on his chin and running down his cheeks.
The group stared after him a moment before filing out. They walked in a silence drenched in sorrow to the front door. Gilbert was the first to reach it and kicked the door in frustration across the push bar. The door should have flung open, but instead stayed shut with a loud clank. The self proclaimed Prussian stared at it for a moment before kicking again. The door didn't budge.
Alfred walked up to the door next to him and pushed it calmly. No movement. The pair stared at the doors for a second. Gilbert raised his leg to kick again and Alfred huffed. They both slammed into the doors, the albino with his foot and the Freshman with his shoulder. The doors moved in their frames but didn't budge. Both frowned and stared at the doors once more before moving the crowd aside and walking calmly to the opposite wall.
They stood a moment looking over the doors in unison then charged. Before he reached the door, Gilbert jumped and kicked it. A loud clang echoed through the hall and a few sparks shimmered into view for a second, but the door remained shut. Alfred one the other hand, slammed into it with his arm. All that resulted was another clang, and a yelp of pain.
"Don't tell me they're fucking locked..." Arthur muttered.
"They are," the American muttered through clenched teeth. He held his arm tightly.
"Sure as hell are," the self proclaimed Prussian nodded in agreement. He limped ever so slightly back into the group which had merged to stand in front of the doors once more.
"Mon dieu," Francis whispered, "please don't tell me we're locked in."
"Just because one way out is locked doesn't mean they all are," Mathew muttered.
Arthur was about to speak when loud footsteps started coming their direction. The boys froze. The light tapping of polished shoes on tiles clicked their way towards them. The sound was close, too close for comfort. They all started backing away and were about to bolt the moment a shoe stuck out from behind the corner of a near-by hall.
"What's going on?" a rounded, cheery voice asked. From around the corner appeared Berwald—a tall intimating Swedish teen with short blond hair and eyes that glared from behind squared glass frames—and in his arms was Tino—a cheery, short, Finish boy with a round face, blond hair, and light violet eyes.
"Mr. Braginski has um... 'lost it'," Kiku muttered with his passive expression. "He's shot Mr. Vargas and Mr. Beilschmidt and attempted to shoot Alfred-kun."
"What?" Berwald asked in his deep stoney voice. His expression grew harsher and he held his companion closer to his chest.
"That's terrible!" the Finish boy exclaimed, his face distraught.
"You could say that again amigo," Antonio nodded solemnly. Lovino had let go of him a while ago, but their hands stayed linked together and he squeezed the Italian's hand slightly as he spoke. Lovino squeezed back. The tears were starting to stop falling from both Italians' eyes since they saw that the German brothers were able to handle themselves better, and they made an effort to try and contain their emotions out of shame.
"And now the door's locked," Sadiq and Heracles muttered in unison. The pair glared at one another. "Would you stop copying me!" they shouted. They growled and leaped upon each other.
Alfred jumped in and so did Ludwig. The pair pulled them apart. Only for them to lung together again. The blonds kept struggling to part them. Arthur watched with wide eyes when someone giggled behind him. "They are so funny, da?" His blood went cold. The Brit turned his head slowly and stared at the Russian teacher. The man smiled a small, warm smile.
The sound of scuffling stopped and the group started gathering close together. "What do you want?" the Englishman whispered. He turned and started backing up into the group. Before he reached it Francis grabbed him and pulled him inside to the thick of the small group.
"I want the blond one," the violet eyed man stated simply.
"Several of us are blond. I'm afraid you'll have to specify," the English accent called from the crowd.
"The one with blue eyes," the Russian specified.
"There are five of us with blue eyes. You'll have to be more specific," Matthew called before Arthur could.
"The one with glasses," The history teacher frowned. He was getting displeased by this situation very quickly.
"Th-there are three of us," the Canadian muttered, his voice getting shaky as the options narrowed. All the teens who had been there when Romaji was shot knew exactly who he was talking about.
"Enough with your games, da," the violet eyed man scowled. He pointed his gun at Tino and Berwald. "Send him out or I shoot," the teacher ordered. Nobody moved. "I'll give you until I reach one to send him out. Five..."
Alfred started to move out but Arthur held him in place and Matthew started moving through the crowd as well.
"Four..."
Alfred's younger brother reached the edge of the group when Gilbert and Francis pulled him back in. The American struggled against Arthur to get out.
"Three..."
Matthew was fighting against the two larger teens unsuccessfully. Alfred broke free from Arthur.
"Two..."
The blond started tearing his way through the group only for Arthur to tackle him to the ground. "Stop it," he hissed. The Englishman stared at him with wide desperate eyes and seemed to be fighting himself for a moment.
"One."
Alfred pushed him off and ran to the edge of the group. "I'm here!" he shouted as Ivan's finger tensed on the trigger. "I'm here..." the Freshman muttered.
"Too late, da?" the Russian smiled and pulled the trigger.
Translations(done via Google Translate and my little knowledge):
F...fick ich - F...fuck me
Mi dispiace - I'm sorry
Es tut mir leid zu, Feli, es tut mir leid - I'm sorry too, Feli, I'm so sorry
Verdammt - dammit
Gott fickin verdammt! - God fucking dammit!
Mon dieu - My god
A/N
The O:5 for Mr. Beilschmidt's office is the room number. It stands for office room number five. Also the sparks form the door, I have a friend who has done that before. The guy ran, jumped, kicked the door and the impact from his shoe made sparks, though he didn't open the door that time cause he missed the push bar.
Another thing, I don't do Berwald's accent because, really, it wouldn't be as bad as everyone makes it. Also I find it quite annoying to have to sit and translate one sentence that was spoken in English.
And sorry that the ending got so sloppy in this chapter.