Author's Note: Here we see what Spain is up to. I rarely write about him. However, it all started flowing out with each word and sentence. With a little help with another picture on Facebook, I wrote out a match that was much better in length and story compared to last week. I might have to come back to Spain again sometime later this season. Now I just need to figure out who I am writing about next week. While I figure that out, enjoy this week's match.

Match Eight: Yellow Signs:

Antonio should've known that something bad was going to happen tonight. There was too yellow in the room. He hadn't noticed it until now. Feliciano had been rather off. The Spanish man didn't believe it until he saw it for himself. Lovino didn't want to talk about his brother.

"Lovino, you have to make up with Feliciano if you two got into a fight," Antonio insisted.

"It's not that, you stupid bastard!" the Italian man snapped. "He's changed. That's not him anymore." Antonio gave him a confused look.

"What does that mean?" he asked. Lovino growled.

"Just drop it!" he snapped. He stormed back to his room. Antonio was left standing there, blinking.

Now he saw the truth.

The Spanish man came to an opening to the hallway. He looked left and right. Where was he going to go now? Antonio frowned.

"What is this?" he asked. He's been here before. He just can't remember when. The Spanish man paused.

"What was that?" he asked. Antonio turned his head. Suddenly, the Spanish man found himself in the woods. He wrinkled his nose as he frowned.

"This can't be good," Antonio said to himself. At least there was no yellow in sight. Still, he had no idea how he got here. Wasn't he in a hallway a second ago? The Spaniard starched the back of his head.

"What the hell? What's going on?" he asked.

Antonio wandered around the woods. Something wasn't right here. Why were the woods so quiet out here? There were no animals anywhere. Antonio looked at the sky. There was no sun anywhere. The Spanish man couldn't get rid of this sense of dread creeping up in his gut.

"It looks like it's going to rain," he said to himself. The question was how was he going to get out of here? First, he had to start walking. So that is what he did.

There was so much yellow in that house. Come to think of it, since when was there a forest in the house? Antonio shook his head.

"This is some bad juju," he said to himself. Really bad. He had no idea had bad it was going to get. It didn't help that there were masked figures peeking out from the trees. Every time the Spanish man would turn around, they would duck behind the thin trees. Honestly, it was getting annoying. Antonio frowned.

"What are you all playing at?" he asked. "Come out and show yourselves!" No answer. Not even chuckling. Antonio needed to get out of here. Calling for help would do no good. His phone was dead and from what he heard, no one else could make any calls. What about landlines? Maybe he could call for help from there.

The sky appeared to get darker around him. He held out his hand. No rain, but he didn't hold his breath. This house was just as unpredictable. A rainstorm wouldn't be out of the question. He just wished that it would just get this over with. Antonio shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking.

He doesn't know how long he's been walking. Time does not exist in this house. Antonio started to wish that he brought holy water or a crucifix with him. That probably wouldn't do much, but it would be something in this situation. The longer he stayed here, the more the bad feelings kept piling up. His mind went to unsettling places. Feliciano wouldn't be trying to trap them here, would he?

Antonio shook his head. No. Feliciano wasn't like that. He wouldn't do anything like that. The Spanish man frowned. Then again…

"He's changed. That's not him anymore."

He turned around in the woods. There was nobody there. Were those words in his head or was someone intimating Lovino's voice? The Spanish man shivered. Am I going crazy?

"Yes!"

"Huh?" Antonio asked. The woods still sounded so quiet. He narrowed his eyes.

"Going mad! Going mad! Going mad!" Several people in masks popped out from the trees. Their black eyes stayed locked on him. Antonio started backing away. He started to cross himself and pray. Giggling rang through his ring ear so close that he could feel the breath on his skin.

"God's not coming to save you!"

That sent the Spanish man running.

He found himself alone again. Antonio stopped to catch his breath. What the hell was all of this? This went beyond the pale. This wasn't a joke anymore. What the hell was Feliciano doing? The more he thought about it, the more the Spanish man started to get angry. No wonder Lovino didn't want to talk about him.

Suddenly, everything went quiet. That's when Antonio turned his head.

"Uh… What is that?" he asked. He found himself looking at a tall cylinder structure of concrete. Antonio cocked his head to the side as he took slow steps toward it. He didn't know why he was walking toward it. It didn't look or feel dangerous. Maybe… Maybe…

Antonio reached out for the door. He circled what looked like a splinter protection cell. More questions were stacked on top of each other.

"What is this doing out here?" he asked. The Spanish man managed to find the latch. Could this still open? It could be somebody's tomb. Was there anyone even in there? Many scenarios played out in his head. Antonio didn't think that he liked any of them. Still, anything was better than being lost in these creepy silent woods in this weird house. It was too late to turn back now.

The Spanish man pushed down on the rusty iron handle and pulled open the heavy concrete door.

Inside looked so dark. Antonio could barely see all the way down. He might as well be staring at a black hole. Looking at this alone was like a walking yellow sign to him. The Spanish man made a face. It wasn't like he was given many options to work with at the moment. Either go back to the crazy people in masks in the woods or go down this creepy black hole.

Antonio closed his eyes and gulped. The current situation chose for him.

He spotted the rusty-looking ladder below him. Could that hold his weight? One look behind him told him that didn't matter anymore. With his eyes closed, the Spanish man began climbing down the ladder. The first step made him jump. Antonio clung to the railing as tightly as he could.

"Don't look down. Don't look down. Don't look down," he told himself. The Spanish man took his time slowly climbing down. He didn't know how long the ladder went. This might not have been a good idea. The silence around him confirmed this. However, going back up would not work. What if a step broke under his foot? How far down did this hole and ladder go? He might have to jump down to the bottom. That probably wasn't so pretty.

The smell of wet dirt filled his nose. Antonio was getting closer to the bottom. Did it have to be so dark down here? He didn't have a flashlight on him. It didn't help that he didn't smoke either. His dead phone would be no help. He would just have to keep going in the dark. And then what? That was one answer the Spanish man didn't want to answer.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Antonio could hear water underneath him. This was good! He was getting somewhere. Just how far down did this ladder go? What was down this bunker? Antonio started to pray to himself. He crossed himself in his mind before he pushed himself to keep climbing down. Surely, he should be getting closer to the bottom, right? Antonio refused to open his eyes until he got there.

The next step was nothing but air. Antonio froze. Did he already come to the bottom of the ladder? How far from the ground was he? It looked like he was going to have to jump to the bottom. This could be a short jump or he could end up breaking some limbs. It was too late to go back up. Climbing down was risky enough. He didn't want to try and go back up. Antonio didn't want to stay clinging to this ladder forever. The only choice was down. He took a breath and jumped.

Thud.

That wasn't too much of a drop. Antonio landed on his bottom.

"Ow," he mumbled. The Spanish man finally opened his eyes. Once again, he was left in the darkness. Still, he couldn't just stay there. Antonio pushed himself to his feet. Now where was he going to go?

Suddenly, something caught his ear.

"What is that?" Antonio asked. He narrowed his eyes as he took a listen. That sounded like… marching? Yes, that was marching. Several people were marching down here. Antonio couldn't help but think the worst. Hope was being cruel to him tonight. He just had to turn around and look.

A group of men were marching forward in the darkness. Antonio could barely see anything past the small glowing ball of green light in the hands of the man in front. They looked like they were wearing army uniforms. The men kept their eyes down. Antonio didn't know what he was looking at.

"Hello?" he asked. The men didn't answer. They marched as if they had lost everything. Antonio held up his hand.

"Hello? Hello?" he asked. The men started walking by him. That's when Antonio noticed it. Their bodies had no feeling to them. No weight, no mass, and no heat. The Spanish man turned his head.

"Huh?" he asked. The men never reacted to him. They just kept marching. Antonio was looking after them. Was that a ghost army marching by? What the hell was going on? Confused and curious, Antonio followed the ghost army down this dark bunker. He had no idea where they were going but he couldn't stay down here.

Well, that was interesting. I wonder what's over here.