The Fallen {Hetalia}

Death lingers in the air... New, deadly, enemies will emerge...all of which craving for blood to spill. The blood...of nations. Blood will cover the ground, and many nations shall fall... But only a handful of nations shall rise to confront the enemies...if they can survive...
(The title for this fandom came from Orange Beanie! I once again thank you for the title! And this is rated yellow only for language and violence.)


3. Chapter 3 : Death

    America walked down the street. The world meeting yesterday kept replaying through his head.
    Japan's dead…? But…how? And why did I step up for Russia of all people?!
    America let out a sigh. None of these thoughts made any sense. He lifted his hand and scratched the top of his head, trying to make sense from them.
    America looked down, hearing a faint splash. Suddenly, his blue eyes went wide with shock. …Blood?! Sure enough, a pool of red liquid was under his boot. The nation took a step back, shock causing him to start trembling. He looked ahead, and immediately wished he hadn't. There, lying only inches from him, was France. Body covered in blood, throat slit open, and lifeless. Not even a foot away was England…in the same state as France, except there was a gaping hole in the corner of his head.

    France….E-England…. tears sprung from America's eyes.
    Suddenly, something caught America's eye. It was a trail of blood…but it wasn't the trail that caught his eye. America ran over and picked up an object.
    It was a scarf…it was nearly covered in blood, but there was no mistaking whose scarf it was…
    It was Russia's.
    "So…you're dead, too…?" America found himself asking, "…Damn it…what the hell's going on…?!"
    America snapped his head up. Right in front of him was Russia, the large nation pinned to a wall, a dark figure's hand around his throat. Russia was obviously struggling - despite his brute strength, he couldn't do a thing to get the figure off of him. And it seemed that he'd been there for a while…the color was starting to drain from his face. America stood there. For once in his life he had no idea what to do…
    "... Помощь ... меня ..."
    Suddenly, as if on instinct, America felt his hand grasp the hilt of his pistol and he took it out. He sent several shots at the figure  - the blood that splattered on the ground signifying that the bullets hit their mark. The figure let out grunts of pain, letting go of Russia's throat and taking off. America - instead of chasing the figure - rushes over to Russia, who is on the ground coughing and gagging.
    "Russia! Dude, are you okay?!"
    "… Да …"
    Suddenly - out of the corner of his eye - America saw something… The figure was wearing a dark brown jacket…and on his back was a number…
    America was now wrapped into a state of confusion. Fifty…? Isn't that on the back of my jacket?!
    "…Something wrong, да?"
    "Huh...? Oh, uh…no…"
    Russia gave me a questioning look, but then he stood up, staggering a little, "…I am going to look for Ukraine and Belarus…," he said after pausing for a moment.
    "…Well, I'll go look for…Canada…and the rest of the allies…"
    Russia glanced at America, his violet eyes giving away a hint of sympathy. He had seen… all the large nation did was place his hand on America's shoulder and then walking away.
    (America remembered Canada…?! HOLY SHIT IT'S A FUCKING MIRACLE!!!! …Heheh, sorry about the language…and the incredibly LONG AS FRUCK CHAPTER!!!!
    THIS CHAPTER WAS SO HARD TO WRITE ALSO! Poor England….. *sob sob*

Да : Russian. Means yes in English.
Помощь меня : Russian. Means help me in English.)

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