InSaNiTy

Chapter One: And So It Begins

Chapter One: And So It Begins...

    Hello again my friends. Do you recall when I told you about the mansion that must not be entered, and I said that only one group of friends had ever escaped? Well now the time has come that I shall tell you the story. I won't tell you the whole story because some may end up crying and can not stop. I believe that crying is for the pathetic weaklings whom think they know pain and I absolutely hate it. It's pitiful really. Anyway, I will include a brief summary of what happened in that accursed mansion and then I will tell of what happened to the friends after they left. Now I must remind you, this is what happens to those who do not heed the warning: Never. Enter. The. Mansion. Now I must issue one more warning before our story begins, this story is not for the weak-hearted. So I must say, if you can not handle tales like these, then turn back, forget you ever heard any this, and read a gleeful, fluffy fan-fiction that just warms your frail heart.

    Alright then, to those who are brave enough to continue, are you ready to begin?

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    Once upon a time, rumors had been spread around and soon they found themselves at the gates. Soon they found something dark within the mansion. And with ever clock they broke, came the truth disguised as lies. And with more people came, a brother in them knew the truth. They discovered that time repeated itself because of one friend who wanted to save them all.

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    The weak became the strong. The scornful became the compassionate. The strong became the weak-minded. The narcissistic became the humble. The quiet broke out of their shell. The hero became the paranoid. The invisible became seen. The gentleman became the reckless. The inconsiderate became the caring. The discourteous became the kind. The conniving set their plans into action.

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    Someone had actually did it. Someone had actually discovered a way out of that horrible mansion with every single person alive. Well-Italy, Japan, America, and Canada really deserved the credit for this wonderful accomplishment, but...no one congratulated them nor gave them thanks. Heck, not a single person even celebrated. After everyone left that acursed mansion, they said their ackward goodbyes and went home-well no one went home alone, save for two countries whom were acting a little bit...off.

    Hehehe~ Now I never said that when you returned from the mansion that you would be the same, did I?

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France

    France stood, quietly, a little ways away from everyone else. England had spotted his older brother from across the yard and decided to ask if he wanted to stay at his house with him, America, and Canada since everyone was... hesitant about being alone. He began to walk towards him. France noticed this and instead of greeting him in his usual way, he took a step back.

    He didn't want to talk to anyone.

    Telling all of his younger brothers, who had been through all of the shit he had witnessed and felt, that he loved them and that everything would be all right now that they're all out seemed...pointless.

    He took another step back and then turned around and walked away from England and everyone else. It all just seemed...worthless. They were going to have to live with all the fucking shit that had happened. They all were going to have all of those damn memories burned into the back of their minds anyway. It was pointless to even try to go on living the same way they had before entering the mansion, to pretend that nothing had happened, to go on living life.

    He let out a sigh and began to trudge home. He was going to change when he got there, the sparkling and extravagant clothing just seemed too stupid and insane to wear. Why did he even have them on in the first place?

    As he was walking home he past a small conveniet store. He stopped and went into it. There was the sound of the bell and then the sound of the cashier greeting him. He ignored both sounds and then went up to the front desk. There he purchased a pack of cigarettes and a lighter before carelessly throwing money at the cashier. France then left without even collecting his change, it's not like it matters anyway right?

    As he was walking he opened the pack of cigarettes and put it in his mouth. He lit it with the lighter and then put his hands in his pockets. He really didn't care about anything now. Not even love. It sounded...stupid to him.

    His eyes were now a sullen purple, scruffer stubble(due to not havimg shaved in awhile), he had messy, long blond hair, and his expression was...melancholic...

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Russia

    As soon as everyone had left that mansion, Russia had not milled about with everyone else who seemed to have that 'what do we do now?' atmosphere. He had started to walk home. He would much rather be in solitude than be in their company, or rather anyones company for that matter. He distrusted them now. They weren't his friends, none of them were. He wouldn't trust anyone after that...

    He took out his pipe that he had carried with him, and also ripped it out from Germany's sink. The one he had used so many times to inflict pain upon others, save his own life and fight the monster, even America had used it to save Italy's life. It still had blood on it from fighting the monster, atleast what he assumed was blood. He let the pipe he had used so many times slip out of his hand and hit the ground with a metallic clang. He continued walking, leaving it behind.

    On his trail was a dark shadowy figure picked up the pipe that had been left behind, and went unnoticed by the large country. He devilishly grinned at the blood-stained pipe in his hands and looked back at the slowly disappearing Russia's back in the distance.

    As he kept walking, it began to snow, signalling that he was getting closer to his home. There was a shovel on the ground, leaning against a garage door. No doubt someone has been shoveling the snow to get to work earlier that day. He picked it up and put it where he used to put his pipe. He would used the shovel as his weapon; he might even resort to using a pistol, like America, but better of course.

    Soon after, he was home. He took off his coat and went to change his clothing. The ones he was wearing now seemed... unfitting. Once he put on clothing he deemed suitable, he sat down infront of his fire, unsmiling. That sickening child-like smile that seemed to creep everyone out and sent many fleeing in complete terror was gone, and probably would never return.

    Even his frightening aura was gone.

    His hair now was red, and he had crimson eyes. His scarf was now grey, his over coat was black, the trim was red, and his clothing was tattered at the ends.

    He went to his dark, cold kitchen to make some tea. As he was doing so, there was a slight rustle behind him. He looked around blandly and spotted Latvia holding the pipe in an offensive way. He didn't have time to react before the small country was upon him.

    Russia's screams echoed throughout his empty home.

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(A/n: Okay so here is the first chapter. My sister came up with most of the ideas for the first half while we did the rest together. Sorry If it's not wonderfully amazing because I may have gotten lazy and did not edit it...Anyhow, enough of my blabbering, ha-I bet little to zero people will even bother to read the Author's Note anyway. Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, any of it's characters, nor Hetoni- if I did... well you don't even want to know)