I'm alive! Sorry guys I will try and keep this short. I haven't uploaded as the day after I last updated, I got offered a job and was stressing out over it for 3 weeks, not wanting to write. Now I have less free time because of said job, therefore delay. stress+less free time= delay
Anyway I wanted to upload as I am going to Comic con( now in the morning) and I like posting before hand...Rosey is causal England, I am Tweek from South Park (not my fav character but he is fun)...yeah that's it.
I don't own Hetalia and enjoy
"You're Rome?"
"Si"
"The Roman Empire?"
"Si, si."
"Oh, oh, ok, that makes perfect sense. Hey, come here for a second." The Prussian had floated over to the Englishman, slinging an arm around his trembling shoulders.
The blonde was doing well at keeping it together, not wanting to go off course and focus on the subject at hand. Really he just wanted to curl up into a ball and block out the world, but now wasn't the time. Gilbert's presence was welcomed, it gave him something to focus on, as well as the Empire in front him.
Rome took a step forward so that he was closer to the Prussian. He had a pretty good idea where this was going judging by the albino's locked jaw, as well as his protective stance next to England.
He really wasn't surprised when the albino punched him in the face. The ancient nation groaned as he touched his nose, already feeling the blood making its way down. He had got hit in the nose twice now, yet he was still surprised for it to bleed, he wasn't aware that he could still actually be hurt considering that he had passed on.
He wouldn't complain though, he was a lot more durable than both Prussia and England. He did also feel terrible about what he'd just witnessed. He never knew that little Arthur had seen the whole thing; at the time he hadn't even been completely sure if Britannia had children.
He just did what came naturally as a nation, he wasn't all that aware of the consequences that his actions would have. Back then, he lived in the moment and was on the hunt for power.
He did manage to get on with Arthur now though and he was here to help him; that had to amount to something, right? The young nation did rebel against him as well, which helped lead to his downfall, that sort of evened things out for them, didn't it?
Once the Roman finally snapped out of his thoughts, he found the Englishman holding back a livid Prussian. He honestly hadn't expected that to happen, the Englishman to defend him, and he didn't expect Prussia would calm down any time soon. It seemed that he was destined to be proven wrong.
"Duckie," it was quiet and a bit croaky, but it was definitely England's voice. It was as if someone had flicked a switch, how quickly the Prussian calmed down. His scowl was replaced with a surprised smile, and he quickly twisted his body round to face the angel.
"You can speak now?" There was a lot of hope laced into that one sentence, even though Prussia could still communicate with England, he missed talking with him. He missed the banter and the pretend flirting, it had made those few days go a whole lot slower.
"Just," Arthur croaked again, his eyes avoiding making any contact. Gilbert noticed this, but said nothing about it; considering what he'd just witnessed, he thought it would be best to give the angel some space. He did feel the need to comment on something else.
"It sounds painful to speak Birdie, maybe it'd be best if you saved it for a bit longer, talk only if you have to. The awesome me will talk for you as I am just that awesome and know what you want to say.
"Right now you are not agreeing about my awesomeness and want me to 'piss off'. Birdie, that is rude we have guests," the albino laughed lightly, gesturing to the recovering Roman. News had got around in heaven about how close these two have got, and now Rome was definitely seeing the truth behind the rumour.
"It hurts because it's unused you bell end, I just need to keep talking until it eases," Arthur mumbled mainly to himself, but he was heard by the other two present nonetheless.
"Kesesese, I have actually missed you insulting the awesome me. Now I know what was missing in the world." For this brief moment, Prussia forgot about the task at hand due to the new development. It had been a while since anything good had happened, so he was going to allow himself a small amount of time to relish in it.
He only laughed harder when he received a light smack to the head, though he quietened when he saw the frown the Brit was wearing, only to notice how tired he looked.
The blonde was much paler than he'd been before they'd entered Japan's mind. His eyes were wide making him look more alert, but on closer inspection, they were dull. Also his glow was much brighter than it once was, and it was only because Gilbert was concentrating on the angel, did he see it against the now white background.
His magic was overwhelming, Prussia could actually feel some sort of pressure pressing against him. It had to be coming from the Englishman, it felt familiar, and Gilbert had never been able to feel magic before. What was this going to do to the angel? Was using this amount of energy dangerous to him?
Prussia turned questioningly to Rome as the ancient would be more likely to know what was going on. He would have preferred to ask Wales, but as the blonde currently wasn't there the Roman would have to Gilbert faced the other ex-nation, he found the brunette was staring at the Prussian's chest. Curious, Gilbert looked down to see his iron cross which Arthur had enchanted, glowing. When he looked back up, meeting Rome's eyes, the ancient nation's gaze flickered to England.
The Roman didn't have to say any words for him to understand, and neither had to say anything for them to both agree that they were going to pay close attention to the Brit.
"Hey, how long have you been able to talk Birdie?" The ghost leant on the angel, trying to appear as if nothing was bothering him.
He didn't fool England for a second, but the blonde was too stressed to act on it, and so simply shrugged, "Just now." He didn't really want to elaborate on it much, he had tried to speak earlier, or more like scream, but nothing had happened. He put his sudden ability to speak down to the influx of power he now possessed, the magic healing the damage. This amount of power was tiring though, he could feel his energy depleting but he wouldn't let himself crash.
He knew that Prussia wouldn't let him anyway, the albino would slap him awake if he needed to. Rome would probably just sling him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and barge his way through any danger they may face. His brother would probably put him inside his pocket and carry him the rest of the way.
A small smile crept onto the blonde's face against his will at the thought, despite everything that was happening, he wasn't facing this alone. It was a nice change. Being a nation, one was used to facing things alone, but when joined with another, the world didn't seem as large and daunting. Even though they represented the landmass, they were still only one person who could easily be lost in a sea of people, but if you had someone who would stand by your side, not letting you get swept up in the tide, it made everything more bearable.
"Arthur, I saw your fratello somewhere a bit further ahead. I suggest that you two speed up if you want to take down Napoleon before Wales gets hit." The Roman stepped behind the pair, giving them a gentle push forward, his eyes burning in lust for a fight.
"Napoleon? Did the awesome me hear him right?"
"Unless there is something wrong with my hearing as well, yes, you did hear him right. Fucking froggie tosser." The Prussian couldn't help a small snigger at the Englishman's insult. Due to the fact that England was regaining his normal voice, Prussia's spirits had lifted considerably.
"Verdammt, thought we got rid of that arschloch. It does explain why he has it in for us, he is jealous of love for each other, kesesesesese."
The Englishman turned red in the face as he smacked the albino upside the head, his actions only causing Prussia to laugh harder and Rome to grin.
"Stop hiding your feeling for the awesome me through acts of violence, Birdie, or is it that you are just embarrassed with Rome present?" Prussia earned himself yet another smack, but it wasn't enough to rid his sniggers.
"Fantastico, it's great that you two could find amore in the world. The fact that it is with another nation is even better, less painful. How far have you got/ Who tops? You two look like you would switch, not really caring who tops, no one is the boss. Si, the power of amore."
The more the Roman talked the more red the Brit's face became, this was not something he wanted to hear from the nation he kind of saw as an uncle, or anyone for that matter. Prussia however, found the whole thing rather amusing, and was struggling not to burst into fits of laughter.
"No, we are not-"
"We have not yet performed the deed, as we wished to wait until after marriage. We don't want our relationship to be just about geschlechtsverkehr (intercourse)."
"Oh, buono. I don't think I could get married without having sex with someone beforehand, they could be terribile."
"Ja, Birdie could suck, not me as I am awesome, but I will still love him."
"Pardon?!"
"He was a pirate and a punk before, so there is hope."
"Screw you!"
"Not yet Birdie, save it for the honeymoon. Entschuldigungen (apologies), he is sexually frustrated."
"Nessun problema (no problem), it is difficult to concentrate when there is a build-up in sexual tension. When I was not with the ladies, I was fighting to relive tension." Rome nodded his head in understanding, a reminiscing look in his eyes.
Prussia had to pause and take in the old empire, he wasn't all that sure if the old man was taking him seriously or not. He turned to see if Arthur could provide any insight, only to find the Englishman had walked ahead as, from his body language, they had succeeding in truly pissing the blonde nation off.
It wasn't really intentional, but it was probably for the best. His anger would cause England to want to hit something and all Prussia had to do was to point in the right direction. After what this ghost had put them through, he truly deserved to face an enraged Englishman.
The fact that it was Napoleon, only made Prussia want to enrage the Brit even more, he was even tempted to make him show his dark side. Yes, that was possibly pushing it, but the bastard had made him relive the death of his brother. His heart still ached at the memory.
His ghost had tortured them, he had hurt them all. He knew that the bastard had hurt him, he'd been forced to watch as he hurt Arthur and, even though he hadn't seen it, Gilbert knew that he had hurt Dylan as well.
He did wonder why Napoleon was still even round, but he did recall Scotland telling him that you could not banish a ghost without offering them a choice. When a ghost bound themself to another soul, they lost that right. None of the ghosts that they were fighting had that right any more, they had all stabbed a nation in the heart.
Napoleon must have taken the chance and lived his life as a ghost peacefully. This led Prussia to wonder if the French ghost had planned this the whole time, just waiting for the perfect time to strike. Or, did spending so much time in limbo cause the ghost to snap? Not that it mattered. The ghost was going to hell anyway no matter what the reason.
Eager to face the Frenchman, Gilbert glided over to the cursing angel, Rome close behind. The albino almost squealed (manly) when the blonde suddenly spun round, a murderous look in his blazing emeralds, but he succeeded in jumping back into Rome's chest.
The brunette stilled, his eyes scanning their surrounding for any explanation to England's sudden change. He didn't need to search for long as England basically answered that question when he whispered, in a disbelieving tone, "Dylan?"
Prussia found himself tensing immediately, knowing that no good could come from the way his friend had spoken. A magnitude of energy rolled off the blonde in waves, pure protective rage scratched away at every surface the energy touched. Something was wrong, that much Prussia could gauge, something was horribly wrong.
Just as the Prussian was about to reach out for the blonde, England's wings snapped open, and, with one powerful flap of his wings, he was airborne. In a blink of an eye, Prussia had followed suit and shot after the blonde, leaving behind a mildly dazed Rome.
The old nation took a few seconds to admire how close the pair had got, so close that if one of them was in danger, the other would follow in a heartbeat. He couldn't remember anyone that he was that close to, not many nations were in his time, maybe it was a more recent thing.
Whatever it was, he knew that the lonely boy that he once colonised had found a friend. He had grown close to his family and invited others to become a part of it, something Rome knew his mother was thrilled about. He understood the feeling as he watched his own family thrive, even without him.
"DYLAN!" A strangled, almost painful, scream crashed into the Roman, shaking his frame. Thrown from his thoughts with a jolt, Rome sprinted towards the sound. He skidded to a stop when he saw the cause.
Slumped against a pale Prussia was a panting England, his legs trembling. Trails of blood were dripping from his nose and mouth and his left eye had clouded over. Everything screamed that he was suffering, including the blinding glow that he was emitting.
When the ancient nation saw the cause of England's state, he felt a spark ignite in his gut, one he thought had been diminished.
In front of them stood the former Emperor, Napoleon Bonaparte, in his black and white uniform. He had an aura around him that said that he believed everyone else was below him, that no one else stood a chance. His eyes were cold and calculating as they drank in the broken image of his target, a smirk playing at his lips.
Under his boot was Wales's head. The elder Kirkland had a sword buried in his shoulder, and his golden locks were stained red from the gash across his face. His breathing was coming his harsh shudders, sounding wet to the Roman's ears. Although struggling to stay open, Wales's jade eyes coursed with a violent and defiant energy, looking electric.
He hadn't given up.
Feeling the fury flare in his heart, Rome clenched his fist, a sword forming in his grasp. A feral growl rumbled from his throat, causing the very ground to vibrate.
Bored blue eyes flicked to the ancient nation and, just at that moment, the Roman struck. So fast he became a blur, Rome swung his sword at the Frenchman's neck. There was a scream and a clang as Napoleon withdrew his sword from the Welshman's shoulder, and blocked the Roman's attack.
The Frenchman took a step back from the Welshman, his focus mainly on the Roman before him. He did not look as though he wanted to fight this nation; he looked at him not with bloodlust, but with curiosity.
"Who are you? I did not anticipate your arrival," he questioned calmly (still in French, but the others were able to understand it).
"I am his boy's uncle."
"I'm not a boy!" the angel yelled from his place, leaning on the Prussian's shoulder. He was standing straighter than he had been earlier, his wounds already healing. The burns that he still had from his last battle were gone. The more he healed, the brighter he glowed, a glow that reached the injured Welshman.
Alarmed eyes stared at his brother, as the elder's breathing eased. England's magic was healing him - something Wales was sure the English nation was unaware of. The elder Briton felt his mouth go dry as it dawned on him the amount of strain his brother's body was currently taking.
Feeling his pain ease enough for him to stand and noticing Napoleon was currently having a calm discussion with Rome, no doubt stalling, Wales limped to his brother's side. The angel was now able to stand fully on his own with no aide from the Prussian, who was standing protectively in front of the angel, or possibly just trying to stop him from hitting Rome round the head.
"Brawd! Your magic!"
"I know, I can't do anything about it. Are you OK?"
"Rydw i'n iawn (I'm fine), he got bored of waiting for the bombs to hit my country before fighting you. Apparently if I get hurt badly here, it will also harm you. I suppose it's a good thing that Patrick isn't actually part of the UK, or you would have felt it when he got hurt," the Welshman gave a dry laugh, his eyes never leaving his brother's. "He monologues by the way brawd, I was happy when he attacked me actually, he shut up then."
"Gott, don't we know Birdie. Fick Francey Pants started doing it as well, he would go on for hours. Sort of like you Birdie when you do your rambles, but not cute."
"C-cute?"
"Yes, brawd, your ramblings can be cute when you are sleepy."
"I hate you both, especially you Duckie."
"Mir?"
"Yes you-"
"I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF STALLING, I WILL END YOU ALL NOW!"
The trio found their attention being stolen by the furious Frenchman. The possessing ghost had sent a shockwave from his body with enough force to send the Roman back. The brunette gritted his teeth, his hold on his weapon tightening, as he tried to gauge what the ghost was doing.
Placing his hand on the Prussian's shoulder, England watched their enemy carefully, not wanting Prussia to rush into danger. He knew perfectly well that Gilbert wouldn't do such a thing as he was a strategist and a skilled fighter, it was mainly instinct to try and protect anyone near him.
Crimson eyes narrowed at the French ghost, the albino's mind barely registering the hand on his shoulder. He could feel the anger radiating off the spirit, he could with all the ghosts they'd encountered, and he could feel the strength. Napoleon was strong, very strong.
Judging by the amount of strength the ghost possessed, Japan's time was running out and Gilbert really didn't want to see the state they would find him in.
"I have had enough with you poisoning this world, the world in which I am entitled to rule. You tried to steal it from me, you will fail."
"Nid yw eto (not again), brawd, please stab me. I don't want to hear it again," Wales groaned, his shoulder throbbing at the memory of it. He received a roll of the eyes and a snort in reply.
They watched the French ghost warily, not paying any attention to the ghost's speech but instead to the actual ghost. "Is it me, or is that scheißkerl (mother fucker) getting bigger?"
"It's not just you Duckie," England whispered, choosing to ignore his brother beside him who was eating another Freddo. It was at this time that Rome joined the trio, on full guard.
"I don't think that this is going to be as easy as I thought. I was just testing his strength, but it seemed like he was doing the same to me. Be careful mi amici (my friends)."
"Ja, I can feel it. Do you think he is compensating for something?"
"You know I think he is, there has to be some reason why people believed he had small man syndrome, he isn't that short."
"Ja, for people then he wasn't."
"Crist (Christ)! It must be tiny."
Rome gave the three younger nations an incredulous look - he couldn't believe that they weren't actually taking this seriously. He knew that this was just how they dealt with these situations, but still. He really wasn't sure why some people saw him as childish when you compared him to the three present - he was at least always serious in the time of a fight.
"He is still talking," Wales stated in a monotone voice, tilting his head back so that he could still see the giant's head. Napoleon had grown in height so he was now towering over his targets, standing at roughly forty feet tall. He stared down at the four nations, his eyes looking drunk with power.
"Oh scheiße, I left my 3D manoeuvre gear at home."
"What?"
"Kiku sent you some new manga didn't he, before you died?"
"Ja, the opening song of the anime used to be my ringtone."
"Brawd, he has stopped talking and looks pissed off that we didn't listen."
"Take caution, he may be fast despite how tall he is. Stare attenti (be careful/ look out)."
As if agreeing with Rome, the giant slammed his foot down with surprising speed. Reacting quickly, Rome dived at the closest person, pushing them out of the way. Both Rome and England skidded across the ground, the Brit rolling out of the Roman's arms, as both avoided being crushed. Reacting just as quickly, Prussia grabbed hold of the Welsh nation in front of him, and shot up in the air.
Slightly dazed from being knocked out of the way by Rome, England had to take a few seconds to fully comprehend what had actually happened. He was quick to his feet once he recognised the threat and dashed to the Roman.
"We are going to need to work together to take him down."
"Si, I think your fratello and Gilbert know," the Roman replied quickly, looking up to the pair hovering above him. The four exchanged looks, silently agreeing that this was going to have to be a team effort. Breaking eye contact as a fist hurtled towards the airborne pair, Prussia dropped out of the air.
Napoleon seemed to anticipate this, as he changed the direction of his attack, still aiming for the Prussian and Welshman. Not seeing many options, Prussia threw the Welshman up in the air, causing the other to yelp.
Just as the bus sized fist was about to collide with the albino, a bright blur slammed into the side of the hand, changing its direction. The giant stumbled, being thrown off by the sudden change, and, taking advantaged of the slight loss in control, England jumped off the giant's fist and caught hold of his brother.
Rome took this as an opportunity to scope the giant for any weaknesses. From what he could tell, there were no obvious ones except the usual ones that applied to humans.
Glancing quickly to the ancient nation, England understood that they didn't have a specific target from Rome's actions. He looked towards the ground and the grounded nation, understanding what this meant, started running.
Without any warning, other than a quick apology, Arthur threw his brother over the giant's head. Distracted by the Welsh swearwords, Napoleon immediately focused his cold eyes on the flying Welshman. About to attack Dylan, Napoleon swung his hand through the air, as if he was going to slap the nation into the ground. That was until he received an arrow to the side of his left leg, and a bullet wound to his left hand.
Facing the source of the attack, Napoleon was greeted with the sight of two smirking nations. Prussia's crimson eyes glistened with sadistic glee as they peered over the shotgun he was wielding. With another arrow already loaded and ready to fire, England gave off a cocky aura as he shifted his aim so the arrow was targeted right between the giant's eyes.
The French ghost roared and charged at the pair, leaving Rome to catch the falling Welshman. Not missing a beat, both Rome and Wales withdrew their swords (~with magic~) and silently charged the Frenchman's ankles. Both succeeded in slicing the ghost's tendons, but their cuts weren't deep enough to cause the ghost to fall.
Napoleon faltered when his ankles were attacked and the change in the ghost's movements caught the flying pair off guard. As Napoleon buckled forward a bit, his large hand clipped Prussia's side, causing the ghost to spin wildly.
Seeing his friend get hit, England went to aid him but was spotted by the enraged ghost. Noticing the threat too late, England was just able to brace himself before Frenchman's hand slammed into him and slapped him towards the ground. He shot through the air at such a speed that Wales had no time to react as his brother came crashing into him, at such force they formed a crater.
Regaining his balance in the air again, Gilbert quickly landed on the ground close to the brothers but before he could attack, Rome placed a hand on the Prussian's shoulder and looked at the French ghost. Napoleon was aiming to hit the Kirklands while they were down.
Feeling his protectiveness flare, Gilbert sprinted towards the Frenchman's feet, his shotgun morphing into a thick ball and chain. At the giant's feet, the Prussian swung the chain around one of the French ghost's feet, in a way that locked around it. Then, sprinting forward a couple of steps, Prussia skidded round on one foot and kicked the other down to push himself off the ground. Still grasping the chain, Prussia jumped over the French ghost's head, bringing the giant's foot up with him, forcing Napoleon onto his knees.
Admiring the Prussian's handy work, Rome allowed himself a small smile before he charged yet again at the giant. This time he sliced completely through Napoleon's tendon and was quick to do the same to the other.
Growling in frustration and pain, Napoleon slammed his fists onto the ground causing vibrations strong enough to knock them all over.
First back to his feet was England who then quickly helped his brother back up, both sporting small bruises. Dylan stretched, cracking his back in the process, before turning to Arthur, "Want a lift?"
"If you would be so kind."
Wales nodded, cupping his hands together and bending his knees, and waited for the younger blonde. With his wings outstretched, England jumped, one foot landing lightly in the Welshman's cupped hands. As soon as England had come into contact with his palms, Wales put all his strength into throwing the man into the air, just as England flapped his wings down in a powerful stroke.
Like a bullet, Arthur cut through the air towards the towering ghost. Just as he started to lose speed, Arthur spun himself round so he was upside down and, flapping his wings once more, England hurtled towards the ground, now wielding a large battle axe. He muttered some words under his breath, causing the axe to glow an ominous red, before he brought it down on the ghost.
Blood spurted out of the giant's mouth, droplets the size of bath tubs splattering onto the ground, splashing the three grounded nations. Arthur stepped up from the base of the French ghost's back, covered in blood, looking fairly proud of himself.
The look was wiped off his face as the French ghost reached for the angel and trapped him on the ground. The giant peered down on the blonde, blood still spilling from his mouth and falling onto the Englishman. On all fours, Napoleon barely managed to stay up, yet he managed to grin down at the trapped nation under his hand.
A sadistic grin spread across his face as he applied his weight on the Englishman, effectively crushing him. England gasped as his felt his wings being crushed, his breathing becoming harder. The three nations at the side went to rush to the Englishman's aid when a blinding light suddenly erupted from the angel.
Blocking the light with his hands, Napoleon unwillingly freed England which led to his death, again.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
England fired round after round into the ghost's head, counting the lives that were lost because of the ghost's actions. Following suit, Prussia stood beside him, firing his machine gun. A few minutes passed where all that could be heard were four different guns firing at the already dead ghost, all of them wanting to take out their frustrations on the ghost that had caused them.
"Arthur, I think you should go and save your amico (friend), Kiku," Rome tapped the heavily breathing English nation on the shoulder, causing the other to turn round. Tired emerald studied the Roman, then shifted to the heavily bleeding Napoleon sprawled out in front of him. Returning his gaze to the ancient nation who was looking at him with concerned eyes, England slowly nodded.
Being close enough to have witnessed the exchange, Prussia decided to intervene. Seeing how tired the blonde was, he picked up the Briton and gave him a piggy back in one swift movement. Before the angel could argue, Prussia beat him to it.
"Don't argue Birdie, you are tired and I can feel where Japan is." Feeling the blonde's head fall against the base of his neck, Prussia assumed that the Englishman couldn't be bothered to argue. He then took this as his cue to march onwards to search for Japan.
Rome walked a bit further ahead as he had actually seen the captured nation already, whereas Wales walked alongside Prussia. The pair were both worried about the angel, the amount of energy that had caused that bright light earlier must have cost a lot. The fact that all their bumps and bruises they'd received from fighting Napoleon were gone only added to it.
They wouldn't voice their opinions while the other was present though. Instead, Wales fished around in his pockets, pulling out a can of Red Bull for his brother, in hopes that it would help.
Arthur wordlessly took it, he knew that the others were worried, he was as well, but wanted to try and ease their worries for them. When Prussia came to a complete stop, England's head bumped into the back of the albino's but the other seemed to hardly notice. Peering over the Prussian's shoulder, England felt his heart momentarily freeze.
Gilbert gaped at the sight before him, internally screaming as he knew what the Britons were about to face. If it wasn't for the fact that Rome was next to him, hooking his tanned arm under the Prussian's, Gilbert would probably have fallen to the ground as he felt his legs buckle.
Emerald eyes clashed, both displaying fear, anguish, dread, and anger. Dylan gave the albino a gentle tug on his arm, silently requesting to let his brother down, which he did without a thought. England shakily stepped forward, Wales right by his side, only to be halted by Prussia. The Prussian held onto his hand firmly, almost as if afraid to let go, a few seconds passed before Prussia gave England's hand a reassuring squeeze and then released him.
Rome silently prayed for the brothers' safety as they hesitantly stepped towards Japan, or what was left of him.
The nation was being kept in a tank suspended in a yellow liquid. Keeping the nation from floating to the top, chains were wound tightly around his ankles, wrists and neck. Several katanas skewered the nation from all angles, an alarmingly small amount of blood spilling from the wounds, mixing with the liquid.
The fluid that surrounded the nation was a highly corrosive acid, but appeared to have little effect on the metal inside the tank. There was little to no skin left on the body, the acid eating away at most of his internal organs. What was left in front of them was mainly bones, and a few organs. There was one eye still left intact and the nation's heat which was impaled with the dagger. The top of the hilt was only just visible. Black veins wound around the bones, almost painting them grey.
Not wanting to look at the state of his friend. England stepped forward, placing his hand on the glass, Wales just behind him. Prussia had to force himself to look away, but was ready to dive for the brothers when needed. He'd learnt from last time, back in Egypt, he wasn't going to be useless this time. Rome watched, strangely calm, as England's lips began to glow and he kissed the glass.
Immediately, Prussia flew to the brothers, hovering over the hissing acid as he searched for blonde hair. When the glass shattered, Dylan had cast a spell that put both him and his brother in a protective dome. It was only when the acid had all evaporated, did Prussia see that they were fine.
As if not seeing the Prussian beside them, both Kirklands automatically placed their hands on the remnants of Japan's torso, wincing at the immediate burning from the acid. Like before, the veins started to retract, black wisps of smoke flaring from the dagger.
Wales mentally swore when he saw how quickly the wisps latched onto his brother's wrists, spiralling up his arms. The angel's glow grew brighter, deterring the wisps, relieving the Welsh nation.
That was before, the dagger started to screech and black smoke exploded from it, engulfing the younger Briton. Still the pair continued the spell to free Japan, though England's body screamed in pain.
Prussia watched horrified, knowing that he couldn't intervene as the angel's glow battled for dominance. It was a losing battle, soon the darkness had overwhelmed the light, quickly spreading over the angel. England's eyes snapped open, his emerald eyes turning into green flames. The wisps crawled into the whites of the man's eyes turning them black. A painful scream erupted out of his throat, giving the wisps a chance to dive down his throat.
The spell was completed, Japan was free. Yet the wisps still continued there onslaught on the English nation. His whole body was covered in a black smoke, making him look semi solid. He shakily stood up, facing the three terrified nations. His eyes replaced with green flames, the only thing that stood out against the black figure, except for the white teeth that smiled at them. When England spoke, it sounded detached, as if far away, fighting for dominance with the deep rumble that accompanied it.
"Run."
Yeah, dark England is back with vengeance, so about the fight scene, there will be another one and other people will be mentioned again. Yay. I can't get rid of the British Isles brothers.
I don't know how long the next chap will be, but I haven't given up on the story...I just get distracted easily and now have less time to get distracted.
yeah, review and stuff if you want. It will be best if you do though as the underpants Gnomes will come and steal your underwear, if you don't! ..."Gah!"