Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

The Abduction of Italy	By : mykonosparadise Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 3659 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers, and I do not make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Character(s): Germany, Prussia, Italy, America, England, France

- Help -

Italy was still like never before in his long life.

He had no other choice.

The quiet of this bleak place forced him to keep his mouth shut. He assumed that already few hours have passed since he has been moved here, a shabby section of the building—a clattered and dusty old room that probably used to serve as a storage. It had an abandoned feel to it.

Feliciano examined the place for the hundredth time since he was dragged down here. There was no escape. Aside from him, an old bucket and chunks of concrete scattered around, the room was empty. He looked up at the massive hole in the ceiling, gaping down at him.

The Italian listened to every little sound, every clatter, every breath. Whatever was coming from the other side of the locked doors was danger. It wasn't even a proper prison how humiliating. At least the small window was still intact, the cool of the evening was creeping inside.

When he heard footsteps, his heart started beating as a drum, wanting out. Fear or hope, what was he supposed to feel?

He took a deep breath in a puny attempt of self-encouragement. His thoughts kept drifting back to a certain blond, he asked himself what Germany would do in his place. He wouldn't be scared.

He tried not to be.

"Did he kick the bucket yet?" A derisive laughter was the answer to the question. Feliciano recognized the new voice, excitement coursed through his veins. He couldn't breathe properly. His gaze was cast upwards while the door was being unlocked, the unmistakable click made him jump up from the floor. The last thing he wanted now was to get caught in such a vulnerable position. He brushed his pants off just as the door was opened.

"Ah, there you are, worm." The guard snarled, coming nearer. Feliciano stared helplessly at him. He raised a hand, as if to deliver a blow, and Italy shut his eyes in defensive reflex, expecting a strike which never came. The human laughed mockingly and gave him a push.

He stumbled backwards, the wall prevented him from falling onto the cold floor.

Another laugh joined in, coming from the soldier who has been guarding the door, rude and loud, just like them man himself. The man inside waved him off.

"Your shift is over. I'll take over now."

The guard saluted with an amused smirk and disappeared from their sight shortly thereafter.

Italy observed the other occupant of the room, a tall, young man with black curly hair who returned the gaze immediately. Green eyes softened as he put a finger over his lips—a sign for the nation to be quiet. He jogged towards the door again to make sure they were alone, eyes scanning the long hall while he rummaged through his front pocket. When he found himself in front of Feliciano, he handed him the spoils.

"This is everything I was able to find, I'm sorry I couldn't help more." The man said in a whisper, "I apologize for earlier. It was necessary." He added.

Italy eyed the items. There was a piece of paper, a bit scrambled but blank, and a pen. It could help.

"Grazie, it's exactly what I need." Italy gave the man a warm smile, undisguised tokens of gratitude visible on his features. His secret aid nodded in response.

"But please hurry. I don't have much time." Italy spread the paper against the dirty wall, keeping it stretched with his fingertips while he scribbled a short message – a code – on it. It was everything he came up with while sitting here. He hoped Germany won't be angry at him for screwing up with the code.

Italy still couldn't believe the man was willing to help. The last thing he expected was to stumble upon a soldier of Italian decent, though the man confessed this minor detail to him only. He wondered if his comrades knew.

"How long have I been here?" Italy asked, and returned the paper to the man who was risking so much by offering help.

"Six hours since you've arrived to the base. Two hours since you've been moved here." He answered, hiding the message into the safety of his pocket once again.

"I cannot guarantee delivery." The man informed with a grave expression. It was Feliciano's turn to respond with a nod. He had suspected that already.

"At least you tried." Italy gave a small smile, the best one he could muster in this situation.

"If any information leaks out, I'll have to defend myself. And you know what happens to you."

The Mediterranean nation knew what was waiting for him even without the man saying it out loud. The Allies would tear him apart. And what would happen to Germany after that, he knew better than the soldier himself.

"Germany." His helper said quietly, an inquisitive look on his face, "How does he look like?" Italy's face brightened at the question, he clasped his hands in rush of excitement.

"He is tall and well-built." A sincere smile crossed Feliciano's features this time, "Blond hair – always sleeked back – and the most beautiful blue eyes you'll ever see!"

The man brought a finger to his lips again to hush Italy, his lips forming a tiny smile at the sudden display of enthusiasm. The usually cheerful nation gave an apologetic look in return, keeping his voice low this time.

"Why are you asking?"

The soldier shrugged.

"Curiosity, I guess." He departed then, leaving Italy alone in the desolated room. He stood there for some more before taking few steps backwards, until his back came in contact with the cold wall. He slid down slowly. Hazel eyes monitored the locked door regularly, he let his conscience take over again. How could everything go so wrong? Hugging his bent legs to his chest, he leaned his chin onto the locked knees.

He felt like shit.

What will Germany think of him now? Did anyone even wonder where he was? Would his allies help him?

Will Ludwig keep his promise and help him now?

"And? His answer?"

The mailman didn't offer a response, steady gaze directed at his boss. America resisted the sudden urge to roll his eyes in front of everyone.

"You may speak. They are allies." He referred to two other nations present. England muttered to himself in something that irresistibly reminded of cursing, France waited for the report with strained patience.

"Well?" America prompted.

"Germany accepts your conditions. He demands that both sides bring the same number of men – not over fifty, that is. He asks for another hour to consult his allies."

"Bollocks." England snapped after the man finished his report, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Which part doesn't agree with you, Angleterre?" France asked without sparing him a glance.

"No, I don't think Germany would be as dishonorable as to break the terms and bring reinforcements." The youngest nation lectured. Arthur wanted to connect his palm to Alfred's head in a fat smack and tell him to shut up.

"I am not talking about that, brat." His accent fell on the latter, "We won't let that happen, naturally. Our troops will be at the ready. I'm talking about the time." His gaze shifted to Francis, looking for understanding and support from his long-term rival, "What for does he need another hour? Consultation? Absurd, I say. We are supposed to loiter here until he assembles his elite troops?"

Encouraged by silence, Arthur turned to look at the mailman.

"Respond with the following message: if he doesn't arrive at the place of agreement, his ally will be done harm to." He ordered, but the mailman watched America, waiting for approval.

America refused to give any.

"Wait a second, England, who told you to—"

"You would really harm Italy?" France rose without paying attention to Alfred, a hint of challenge to his tone, blue eyes settling on Arthur who equaled the dirty look.

"Why so attached, France. Knowing you—"

"Okay! Hold on for a second!" America defended his authority in robust terms and a loud slam against his table – an argue was inevitable. He addressed the mailman first.

"Leave and tell him to stick to the agreement. But he won't be given more than half an hour to make up his mind." The soldier saluted and left without a word.

"This was myplan." Alfred announced with a breath of superiority, "Those of you who disagree and wish to leave may do so now."

France didn't lift a finger.

England left.

Not before giving France one last malevolent glare, and a spiteful curse, aimed at all of them, aimed at the whole world.

Germany scrutinized their surroundings through the windscreen. The night-fall was a complicating factor. He caught someone approaching the Kübelwagen that was parked far away from the main entrance of the base. *

Prussia slipped inside and closed the door quietly, rubbing his upper arms energetically in his seat. He mimicked Ludwig and looked out of the window, scanning their surroundings to make sure he wasn't followed.

"It's becoming chilly outside, West." He informed matter-off-factly, immune to the intimidating look Germany was giving him.

"Gilbert." Ludwig warned in a hiss, dead serious. Finally warmed up, the Prussian slumped back in the seat with a grin.

"This is not the time for your nonsense. Be serious. Do me that favor tonight, brother."

Gilbert gave a snort at the plea, but his grin softened.

"Blondie's shift is over, he left five minutes ago. Shorty's turn this time, he wasn't there when I left though. Maybe he gave up the ghost..." He suggested, using the nicknames they gave the guards. The younger German averted his gaze, fingers gripping the steering-wheel tightly, thinking.

"We're going in now." Ludwig said after a minute.

"And how exactly are we going to do it?" Gilbert asked which earned him a stare.

"Use your brain once in a while, Gilbert." The purr of the engine was drowned out by Ludwig's words.

The Prussian roared with laughter.

"I turn it off as soon as you turn your own on, West..." Disturbed by the noise, a flock of crows rose above the trees. Ludwig hit the road again, leaving the safety of their hiding-place.

"Listen..." He began slowly.

"I'm all ears, brother." Gilbert glowed with excitement, barely waiting for the action to start.

To Be Continued...

* Kübelwagen - "was a military vehicle designed by Ferdinand Porsche and built by Volkswagen during World War II for use by the German military."
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Abduction of Italy