21st Century Breakdown [5/18]
Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn’t need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn’t be writing fanfics.
Background music: Track Five - Before the Lobotomy - Green Day
Minimal fluff 09!
---
Five - Before the Lobotomy
--
Dreaming, I was only dreaming…
--
Something was coming.
It wasn’t the alcohol talking anymore.
France stared listlessly at the tablecloth as the front door came crashing down. There was sound of gunfire and peppering of shots, war cries and excited cheering. It wasn’t until Germany appeared in the doorway did he finally cry out, feeling a hot heat sear his very being.
“France,” Germany addressed politely. He was holding a machine gun and surveying the room carefully. There was an explosion somewhere in the house.
France stared at the wine bottle, past the green glass to the red liquid still sloshing cheerfully in its depths. There was a pop and the glass exploded, spraying the white tablecloth and France in red liquid. The invaded nation cried out again, broken glass on his lap and red seeping into his clothes.
It hadn’t been Germany who had shot. On the contrary, the blonde nation was watching his all with a calculating expression. Italy had appeared, standing next to his ally with a gun in his outstretched arm.
“I shot it!” Italy cried happily, waving the still smoking gun around and turning to Germany. “All that targeting practice worked!”
“Good.” Germany rested a hand on Italy’s head and rubbed gently, like one might to a dog. It seemed enough, as the nation purred happily under these ministrations. Germany turned back to France, who was staring at them dumbfoundedly.
“You should know why we’re here, France,” the blonde said coldly.
“We gave you what you wanted,” France said, rather quickly. “You invaded Poland’s vital regions and we didn’t stop you! Why are you doing this?”
“Poland,” Italy spat, looking disgusted. “He was screaming and causing such a fuss even after Germany was done with him. No pride at all, vee~! Wasn’t even worth your time…”
“It’s done,” Germany reminded, and Italy sulked, clinging at Germany’s arm.
“And how did you get so close?” France asked, feeling the need to know how he went down and at whose hands.
Italy smiled satisfactedly. “Il Duce said if Germany could invade your vital regions, he’d let me be allies with him. So now that he did, I’m happy. Don’t take it personally, nii-chan. We’ll always have 1796.”
France smiled back sarcastically. Leave it to little Italy to turn out to be such a delinquent. “How’s your brother, Italy?”
“Romano? He’s fine. He’s probably picking around one of your rooms right now.” Italy smiled happily up at
Germany. “He’s never liked Germany too much so he leaves me to deal with him.”
“It can get ugly,” Germany warned, cocking his gun and pointing it at France. “Surrender now and you won’t get hurt. Much.”
France threw the broken glass pieces to the floor. “I can’t just do that,” he said, shrugging. “I have my pride to withhold.”
“Italy.” At the mention of his name, Italy perked up, looking excited. “Go to your brother. I don’t want you to see this.”
“What?! I can handle it! I promise!”
“You won’t be able to.”
“No! Let me stay! We’re allies! I won’t go!”
Germany rolled up his sleeves. “Alright. But close your eyes when you can’t watch anymore.”
--
England was finding it harder and harder to take deep breaths. The Prime Minister had handed him a file, which he had read in the privacy of his office.
He had had fights with France before, and had beaten the country before, but he’d never seen France in a state after a thrashing at another country’s hands.
England felt utterly alone.
With France gone, he was the only one left in the European hemisphere. China, which might have been a potential ally, was too far to matter; Russia was sitting elsewhere watching from the balcony; and America…no, he wouldn’t involve America. He wouldn’t get that boy in the war even if he was near death.
He was England, royal England, and England didn’t grovel.
The bombings started almost the moment he set the pictures down to think. A numbing prick of pain started in his chest and England scrambled to the door. London. He had to think of London.
He almost ran into the Queen, who had been rushing down the hall in his direction. “England,” she greeted urgently, bowing slightly. “What is happening?”
“The Air Force,” England breathed, rushing past her. “I’ve got to get the Royal Air Force up.”
“It’s not…oh dear…what shall we do?”
“Persevere. We can survive this.” England narrowed his eyes as he rushed down the hall. There’s no way
I’m going down like that bastard. Not in a million years.
--
Romano grumbled as he watched his brother fret in his room. He had been giving strict orders (he didn’t want to follow orders from that bastard, but Il Duce said they were working together now so he had to) by Germany not to let Italy loose now they were trying to invade England’s vital regions. Italy had been a mess after France.
Romano never liked Germany, and especially it didn’t help when he came to see his brother and found him sobbing outside France’s house next to a bush where the smell of vomit lingered in the air. Italy’s eyes were bloodshot and he was choking out words.
“What did he do to you?” Romano shouted.
“France…” Italy moaned. “Germany…Germany really hurt France.”
“Well, duh,” Romano said exasperatedly, trying to help his brother to his feet. “It’s what we came here to do.”
Italy was becoming incomprehensible and Romano had to slap his brother a bit to get coherent words out.
“Blood…France-nii-chan…”
“Where are they?” Romano asked.
Italy coughed and pointed toward the front walk, where there was a trail of blood down to the street.
“Germany…Germany is taking France to the railroad car…let me go, I can hardly breathe…”
Leaving his brother in a pile at the back door, Romano entered the house, where some of Germany’s men were lingering around. Glaring at them, he wandered a bit before stumbling upon the parlor, where he stopped.
There was blood everywhere, spattered all over the walls and tablecloth, which was already a sickening ruby red. There was broken glass and bullet holes and broken furniture. There was the fading scent of alcohol but the overpowering stench of fear and blood. Romano’s mind reeled; he stumbled back.
His feet found Italy, still crying in the back. “Did you see?” Romano demanded loudly. “How much did you see?”
“All of it,” Italy cried, wailing loud enough to fill the area with his cries. “All of it! I didn’t close my eyes for a second!”
“What a sick bastard,” Romano muttered, biting his lip to stop from feeling sick. He thought of the state
France must have been in, and then dragged down the path to the trains…he ignored the nauseous feeling he felt in his stomach. Italy was now clinging onto him and he had to be strong for his brother.
--
Japan had to commend his western friends. He had not been aware of the situation, but once Germany sent him word that France had been subdued, there was suddenly a wider range of possibilities in the east. China had been holed up in his ruin of a house and Japan moved further, collecting Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam into his house.
Flush with victory, Japan returned and found a telegram at his house delivered with a United States post all over the envelope. At the moment, America was still separated by the whole fight by a sea and Japan felt a sting of irritation that such a child was worming his way into the process. He didn’t need to worry about stepping on little fingers at this point.
“Dear Japan STOP. I know you have nothing to do with the situation in the west after France was defeated and now England won’t talk to me, but I’ll have you know a hero won’t stand by these actions STOP. France may be down but that is no reason to invade his colonies STOP. Please withdraw immediately STOP. We have stopped your assets and will not send you oil until you do STOP. This can be resolved easily by---
Japan had crumpled the badly hidden threat and lobbed the paper outside, not watching it long enough to know where it blew off to. If this was a way of western retaliation, it was a bad form of it. Every nation he dealt with was disappointing him lately. He was not going to withdraw now and he certainly was not going to listen to America of all nations. But now his people were going to suffer by some stubborn trick a child was pulling.
“I hope you’re ready, America-san,” Japan murmured softly, taking the envelope and tossing it on the stove, watching it get burnt to ashes. “I won’t just slap you on the hand for something like this.”
--
Laughter, there is no more laughter; songs of yesterday now live in the underground.
--
To be continued
--
Background music: Track Five - Before the Lobotomy - Green Day
Minimal fluff 09!
---
Five - Before the Lobotomy
--
Dreaming, I was only dreaming…
--
Something was coming.
It wasn’t the alcohol talking anymore.
France stared listlessly at the tablecloth as the front door came crashing down. There was sound of gunfire and peppering of shots, war cries and excited cheering. It wasn’t until Germany appeared in the doorway did he finally cry out, feeling a hot heat sear his very being.
“France,” Germany addressed politely. He was holding a machine gun and surveying the room carefully. There was an explosion somewhere in the house.
France stared at the wine bottle, past the green glass to the red liquid still sloshing cheerfully in its depths. There was a pop and the glass exploded, spraying the white tablecloth and France in red liquid. The invaded nation cried out again, broken glass on his lap and red seeping into his clothes.
It hadn’t been Germany who had shot. On the contrary, the blonde nation was watching his all with a calculating expression. Italy had appeared, standing next to his ally with a gun in his outstretched arm.
“I shot it!” Italy cried happily, waving the still smoking gun around and turning to Germany. “All that targeting practice worked!”
“Good.” Germany rested a hand on Italy’s head and rubbed gently, like one might to a dog. It seemed enough, as the nation purred happily under these ministrations. Germany turned back to France, who was staring at them dumbfoundedly.
“You should know why we’re here, France,” the blonde said coldly.
“We gave you what you wanted,” France said, rather quickly. “You invaded Poland’s vital regions and we didn’t stop you! Why are you doing this?”
“Poland,” Italy spat, looking disgusted. “He was screaming and causing such a fuss even after Germany was done with him. No pride at all, vee~! Wasn’t even worth your time…”
“It’s done,” Germany reminded, and Italy sulked, clinging at Germany’s arm.
“And how did you get so close?” France asked, feeling the need to know how he went down and at whose hands.
Italy smiled satisfactedly. “Il Duce said if Germany could invade your vital regions, he’d let me be allies with him. So now that he did, I’m happy. Don’t take it personally, nii-chan. We’ll always have 1796.”
France smiled back sarcastically. Leave it to little Italy to turn out to be such a delinquent. “How’s your brother, Italy?”
“Romano? He’s fine. He’s probably picking around one of your rooms right now.” Italy smiled happily up at
Germany. “He’s never liked Germany too much so he leaves me to deal with him.”
“It can get ugly,” Germany warned, cocking his gun and pointing it at France. “Surrender now and you won’t get hurt. Much.”
France threw the broken glass pieces to the floor. “I can’t just do that,” he said, shrugging. “I have my pride to withhold.”
“Italy.” At the mention of his name, Italy perked up, looking excited. “Go to your brother. I don’t want you to see this.”
“What?! I can handle it! I promise!”
“You won’t be able to.”
“No! Let me stay! We’re allies! I won’t go!”
Germany rolled up his sleeves. “Alright. But close your eyes when you can’t watch anymore.”
--
England was finding it harder and harder to take deep breaths. The Prime Minister had handed him a file, which he had read in the privacy of his office.
He had had fights with France before, and had beaten the country before, but he’d never seen France in a state after a thrashing at another country’s hands.
England felt utterly alone.
With France gone, he was the only one left in the European hemisphere. China, which might have been a potential ally, was too far to matter; Russia was sitting elsewhere watching from the balcony; and America…no, he wouldn’t involve America. He wouldn’t get that boy in the war even if he was near death.
He was England, royal England, and England didn’t grovel.
The bombings started almost the moment he set the pictures down to think. A numbing prick of pain started in his chest and England scrambled to the door. London. He had to think of London.
He almost ran into the Queen, who had been rushing down the hall in his direction. “England,” she greeted urgently, bowing slightly. “What is happening?”
“The Air Force,” England breathed, rushing past her. “I’ve got to get the Royal Air Force up.”
“It’s not…oh dear…what shall we do?”
“Persevere. We can survive this.” England narrowed his eyes as he rushed down the hall. There’s no way
I’m going down like that bastard. Not in a million years.
--
Romano grumbled as he watched his brother fret in his room. He had been giving strict orders (he didn’t want to follow orders from that bastard, but Il Duce said they were working together now so he had to) by Germany not to let Italy loose now they were trying to invade England’s vital regions. Italy had been a mess after France.
Romano never liked Germany, and especially it didn’t help when he came to see his brother and found him sobbing outside France’s house next to a bush where the smell of vomit lingered in the air. Italy’s eyes were bloodshot and he was choking out words.
“What did he do to you?” Romano shouted.
“France…” Italy moaned. “Germany…Germany really hurt France.”
“Well, duh,” Romano said exasperatedly, trying to help his brother to his feet. “It’s what we came here to do.”
Italy was becoming incomprehensible and Romano had to slap his brother a bit to get coherent words out.
“Blood…France-nii-chan…”
“Where are they?” Romano asked.
Italy coughed and pointed toward the front walk, where there was a trail of blood down to the street.
“Germany…Germany is taking France to the railroad car…let me go, I can hardly breathe…”
Leaving his brother in a pile at the back door, Romano entered the house, where some of Germany’s men were lingering around. Glaring at them, he wandered a bit before stumbling upon the parlor, where he stopped.
There was blood everywhere, spattered all over the walls and tablecloth, which was already a sickening ruby red. There was broken glass and bullet holes and broken furniture. There was the fading scent of alcohol but the overpowering stench of fear and blood. Romano’s mind reeled; he stumbled back.
His feet found Italy, still crying in the back. “Did you see?” Romano demanded loudly. “How much did you see?”
“All of it,” Italy cried, wailing loud enough to fill the area with his cries. “All of it! I didn’t close my eyes for a second!”
“What a sick bastard,” Romano muttered, biting his lip to stop from feeling sick. He thought of the state
France must have been in, and then dragged down the path to the trains…he ignored the nauseous feeling he felt in his stomach. Italy was now clinging onto him and he had to be strong for his brother.
--
Japan had to commend his western friends. He had not been aware of the situation, but once Germany sent him word that France had been subdued, there was suddenly a wider range of possibilities in the east. China had been holed up in his ruin of a house and Japan moved further, collecting Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam into his house.
Flush with victory, Japan returned and found a telegram at his house delivered with a United States post all over the envelope. At the moment, America was still separated by the whole fight by a sea and Japan felt a sting of irritation that such a child was worming his way into the process. He didn’t need to worry about stepping on little fingers at this point.
“Dear Japan STOP. I know you have nothing to do with the situation in the west after France was defeated and now England won’t talk to me, but I’ll have you know a hero won’t stand by these actions STOP. France may be down but that is no reason to invade his colonies STOP. Please withdraw immediately STOP. We have stopped your assets and will not send you oil until you do STOP. This can be resolved easily by---
Japan had crumpled the badly hidden threat and lobbed the paper outside, not watching it long enough to know where it blew off to. If this was a way of western retaliation, it was a bad form of it. Every nation he dealt with was disappointing him lately. He was not going to withdraw now and he certainly was not going to listen to America of all nations. But now his people were going to suffer by some stubborn trick a child was pulling.
“I hope you’re ready, America-san,” Japan murmured softly, taking the envelope and tossing it on the stove, watching it get burnt to ashes. “I won’t just slap you on the hand for something like this.”
--
Laughter, there is no more laughter; songs of yesterday now live in the underground.
--
To be continued
--