The Hetalia Global Warming Crisis; Get Out Alive
03—The Assassin
Matthew was staring at his half-brother in mixed approval and horror. So it wasn't just him being affected. The other countries were having different problems with the changing world, and now he could see it clearly on their faces. He steeled his nerves and stepped forward.
"I agree with Australia," he began. "It's happening in my territory, too. The ice is melting much sooner than usual and is forcing—"
"So what are we going to do about this, you jerk?" Romano snapped out impatiently, unaware that he was interrupting another nation. "You call us all here just to tell us about this issue we can do nothing to stop, you stupid British Dominion!"
England and Canada were about to defend their names and Australia hotly, but Feliciano was faster. He exploded to his feet, waving a white flag and crying out in a high voice.
"I'm sure global warming will be happy if we all just surrendered peacefully to it! Come on all you guys! Let's just wave our white flags and everything will be alright!"
Suddenly the room buzzed into anxious chattering as each nation tried to bring forth his or her opinion about global warming. America was probably the loudest of all.
"..So I was thinking that we should move Earth farther away from the sun because you know, global warming means that the world is basically getting warmer so if we move it to a colder place it's bound to solve all our problems… or we can just take a giant thermostat and set it so it's just a few degrees colder, you know, so at least we can control the temperature ourselves and all that. Or I could just take the whole global warming issue and, like, send it to outer space so we can all just forget about it and call me the Hero!"
"Don't listen to America, he's had too much coffee this morning," England announced unnecessarily.
"You had too much coffee this morning," spat Francis.
"I'm sorry, but I don't drink such insultingly disgusting liquid," Arthur snapped back. "Someone clearly has never tried the perfect essence of British tea."
"If it's anything like scones," Francis sneered, "I'd rather pass."
Arthur growled and struck France, but the other country caught his fist and both started another little fight between them.
Canada stood watching, fighting the urge to simply walk out. He may be ignored, but he had a right to at least listen to the meeting. He stole a glance at Germany, expecting him to take command yet again, but was surprised as Switzerland's demanding voice rose from the melee.
"I still don't see the point in all this," he said, scowling, while Austria rose to his feet at the same moment and shouted angrily, "There's no point in this." Both nations exchanged surprised glances, then turned their faces away from each other, embarrassed, while Prussia looked on, amused.
"I'm going to leave now," Austria continued. "There's nothing I can do here. I'd rather stay home and compose a piece." He glanced impassively at the listening countries. "At least I'll be doing something productive."
He held his head high and indignantly as he walked out with Hungary following close behind, waving her pan threateningly as Prussia tried to follow.
Switzerland took his little sister's hand and followed without another word, silently agreeing with his old friend. Slowly the other nations left, some alone, some in groups. They completely failed to notice Matthew, who hovered around the doors, not wanting to leave until he at least got to talk with his brothers.
Soon, the large hall was empty. There were only a handful of countries left: Australia, England, and USA, who all wanted to talk privately about the issue, and France, Russia, China, Germany and his brother, Prussia, both Italians, Spain (because he refused to leave Romano), and Japan. And Canada, of course, who began gingerly walking up to the front of the long table where the most powerful countries—like the United Kingdom and the United States—were seated.
Suddenly Matthew felt a tingling down his spine that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He instinctively dropped Kumajiro, who landed gracefully, and shouldered off his bow, rubbed the polished wood with a mitten, strung it, and continued walking, clutching the weapon tight in his left hand. The one good thing about being ignored meant that he wasn't as distracted as the other countries—and therefore knew when danger was coming.
Such as, right now.
A flicker of movement and a glimmer of the whites of someone's eyes in the shadows caught Matthew's sharp, archer-trained eyes. There was movement just behind his brother, America, and the gleam of metal, which was enough to give the archer a target. Within a second, Canada had nocked, aimed, and fired an arrow into the shadows on the opposite side of the grand hall, managing to clip Alfred's jacket and barely missing his neck. Startled, Alfred, Arthur, and the other countries turned and stared at Matthew in bewilderment.
"Sheesh, Mattie," Alfred breathed out, stunned. "If you want to be noticed, just call. No need to go all violent."
Matthew, who was breathing heavily in panic and strain, lowered the bow shakily and scampered over to the end of the table, passing the older countries, and darting into the shadows. He had shot so hard the arrow head had went straight through the enemy's heart and pinned the body to the wall, like a thumbtack would to a piece of paper. He grabbed the maple wood shaft, the owl feathers on the tip tickling his nose. This, he realized, was one of his best arrows. The one with the bone tip specially designed for speed and silence, not aim. It was a miracle he didn't hit his brother.
Trying not to think about the other possible outcome, Matthew wrenched the bloodied arrow out of his victim, who fell to the ground and into the light. Matthew inspected the bone tip of his arrow, wiping off the blood on his mitten and keeping a mental note to sharpen the tip later.
Sheathing the arrow back into his quiver, Matthew turned and found the remaining countries crowding around the body, blood pooling around at their feet. He squeezed in between his two brothers and kneeled down to inspect the victim.
The man was young, and clearly a mortal human. He had fair skin and black hair, like Japan's. His glassy eyes were red, like Prussia's, and he looked to be in his late teens. He wore simple black clothes, almost like a ninja, and was obviously there to kill someone.
"M-maple…" whimpered Matthew in fear. "It's an assassin."
Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya
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