Paint It Red

{5}

The room was silent as they mulled over the loss of the two Italy brothers. Italy was so out of control, that the other countries were already feeling like it was game over. Spain was sitting in his chair, his head in his hands, weeping as France and Prussia consoled him.

Germany stared at the closed door. His eyes twitched; he had never felt as close to tears as he had at this moment. But he held them back. Germany had hidden his scarred face for so long, that keeping his emotions in check had become some sort of a talent.

But there was still anger. He looked over at a very concerned England. He didn't look all that sad...just concerned and a bit frustrated. He sat at the table with a clenched fist, rubbing his head. Germany walked over England, taking his and everyone else by surprise.

"What are you-" England was shoved against the wall. He was held above the ground, and Germany was giving him a terrifying glare. 

"This is all your fault!" Germany shouted. 

"My fault?! How could you blame this whole bloody thing on me?"

"Romano said it happens when we get depressed! You've been attacking Italy for years now! This is all your fault!"

England couldn't reply. He didn't want to admit it, but it was true. He was to blame. The words struck through him like a knife twisting through his body. It was all his fault. He was the reason the real Italy was gone. He was the reason why Romano was in grave danger. He was the reason why everyone was in grave danger. 

"Well?!" Germany continued. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

"Germany! Dude, you're overreacting!" America shouted, stepping in front of England protectively. 

"No, America..." England hung his head down and his hair covered his face. "It is my fault. It's all my fault! Germany's right. Because of me, World War Three will probably start."

"England, don't think like that!" China pleaded. 

England looked up. "You would all be better off without me." 

Germany dropped England harshly and stepped out of his way, leaving a path to the door. He was so mad, he wasn't even sorry.

England began stalking off, before someone grabbed his arm and stopped him. He looked back and saw France holding him back, looking apologetically in his eyes. 

"Don't do this to yourself. It isn't like you!" France whispered. 

Haha...cute...

A voice echoed in England's head and he gasped, falling to the floor. What was happening?

I bet he would be even cuter if he had a splash of red! Go on! It would look great!

"England! What is wrong with you today?!" France asked worriedly, helping him up.

The voice inside his head disappeared, and he wondered what was wrong today? His heart pounded, and his breath began to come unevenly as he started to tremble. But he stilled himself as best as he could and turned to France. 

"Yes. I'm alright. Just slipped. Now let go of me!"

~~~

Romano woke up in a cell. It was dark and wet and cold. He heard a mouse squeak in fear at his sudden movement, startling him. He tried to move some more, but his arms and legs were chained to the wall. He began to fidget, causing his bare wrists and ankles to rub against the grimy metal, chafing his skin. It was only then that he realized he was half naked. He had only his war pants on, and they reached just past his knees. He blushed at the fact that only his brother could have done this.

He nearly screamed when he noticed his brother's form standing outside the cell, one hand behind his back. 

"Honestly!" he heard him complain. "You sleep for far too long!"

Romano didn't say anything. He simply backed away from the younger, moving closer to the wall. Italy moved his hand from behind his back and revealed a whip in it. That could only mean one thing. He was going to be tortured for information.

"The-there's no point in that, you bastard! You already know everything!" he trembled. 

"Well, yes. But you aren't who I want to talk to~"

Romano looked around the cell. There was nobody else in there with him, so what did he mean? Romano tried to think deeper. This was Italy's opposite, so he might be a bit wittier than the original.

Deeper...oh.

"Deeper..." Romano repeated to himself, aloud. 

The other smirked at him. "I assume you know now?"

Romano hesitated. "My...opposite?"

"Yes. But the only way to gain access to him is to make you a bit more...hm...sadistic," he responded with a terrifying grin. "And what better way to do that then to have your own brother torture you!"

"No! There must be another way!"

"You give up so easily! But there's no other way. Shame, isn't it?" The whip cracked next to Romano, teasing him as he screamed in fear. He was scared. Terrified. 

Italy laughed at his brother. "So, Romano. Lovino. Are you tired of calling me Italy? Of associating me with that weakling you call a brother, because now you know I am much more then that?"

Romano didn't answer as he quaked on the ground. His brother leaned down over him and got close to his face. 

"Call me...Luciano."

Romano's eyes widened in fear at the name of the famous Mafia boss. Italy-Luciano laughed again. But he stopped laughing when he got a splitting headache. It was so painful he fell to the floor, writhing in agony. 

Don't do this! Fratello is nice, and he doesn't deserve anything like this!

"...Veneziano?" Romano had tears in his eyes. He could hear Italy. He could hear his brother, really hear him!

Hang in there Romano! Be strong, like Germany or Spain! But whatever you do, don't let this evil man bring out the demon in you! Please! Everyone's counting on you..."

Romano paused, relishing his little brother's voice again. 

"Of course, fratello. You bastard." He gave a small half smile as Italy stood, Luciano grinning evilly. He had heard the whole conversation, and was now quite gleeful. 

"Perfect! Let's begin."