Hetalia-Worldwide Plague Outbreak

Arrival and the Young Victim

The FACE family's plane touched down in Moscow an hour after Hungary's fighter jet did. The Hungarian and the two Russians were waiting. England stepped off the plane, being careful of Hungary. He knew she'd been through more than anyone here. She had nobody left, and she probably wasn't in the happiest of moods. Plus she had two Sig Sauer 38h handguns in her belt, a rifle strapped to her back and was gripping a black, two foot machete so hard her knuckles were white. Her emerald eyes were icy and cold as she glared daggers at the full family stepping off the plane.

She sat cross legged behind Russia, wearing a black leather jacket and tight skinny jeans. She sighed sadly, then shook her head and her face went rock-hard again. England's thick black eyebrows raised. There was a hint of sadness and grief in her sigh. Under the rock hard, strong stomached, tougher-than-nails Hungary, there was an actual person. Weird.

Russia greeted FACE with a quick wave, and a flash of his signature, innocent little devil-smile. Belarus glared pins and needles at FACE as they had made the mistake to look directly at her Russia. Hungary stood, and Belarus snarled defensively and pulled Russia away from the Hungarian.

"Listen," Hungary snapped. "A virus is breaking down the earth. Life as we know it is over. Most of you all have someone...," she trailed off, then shook her head and got back on track. "Every country but us is destroyed and dead. Nobody left. We're the last ones, the only ones currently populating the world. The population of my country is 9 million. Same with Belarus. The population of Russia is 100 million. The population of France is 65 million. The population of UK is 70 million. The population of America is only 100 million now. Most of his states are dead. Canada is dropping. He's only got about 10 million left. Combined, theres only approximately 363,00,000 people left in the world. We started with 8 billion. We need to stop fighting and realize what's going on. Snap yourselves into reality, out of your thoughts. Guys, this is real. It's time you opened your eyes and realized that." He words were like shards of glass, dripping with venom, but made much sense.

Belarus sighed and nodded, and took her nails out of Russia's arm. France and England stopped arguing about remembering and taking care Of Canada, and America stopped inhaling complimentary airplane miniburgers.

"Hungary is right. We need a plan," Russia said, and Belarus nodded her head in agreement so hard it looked like it was going to fall off.

Hungary opened her mouth to say something, then froze. A faint groan was heard, and barely anyone breathed. "Victim," she whispered, and everyone nodded. Victims, like she'd mentioned earlier, suffered greatly. A shot through the head and a quick ending was their godsend. If a victim got too close to a healthy person, the healthy person would become infected, obviously. The infectivity rate of this virus was overwhelming, as was the fatality rate. All the surviving countries' governments had began to burn bodies to cut down on spread if the virus, which just brought back the song Ring Around the Rosie.

All the countries froze solid. England was the first to come to his senses. "Well, bloody gits, move your asses before you get infected!" He snapped, and everyone shook their heads and moved into the plane that FACE had arrived in. Sealed the doors shut. "We can't let the poor soul suffer," England said, and even Russia nodded in agreement. "The groan sounded high pitched...a young lad, perhaps," the English nation acknowledged.

"It was faint, so they were dying...I think it was a girl," Belarus added.

A deafening scraping sound was heard, like an alarm bell mixed with nails on a chalkboard. They all covered their ears.

"I-is someone h-here...? A-am I alone...?" A faint, strangled voice choked out. The seven looked out the plane window, and their eyes bugged. Jaws dropped. America burst into tears. Canada would've cried if he was strong enough. Even Russia's eyebrows shot up.

A tiny little Russian girl, who couldn't be more than five, was scratching at the metal door of the plane-shelter. Her long, dark brown hair fell in straight waves past her shoulders, to the middle of her back. Her tiny, round, perfect, innocent face was sad, her dirty cheeks covered in tear and blood streaks. Her used-to-be-brown eyes were bloodshot and almost "melted", so her eyes were nearly liquids, spilling out of the sockets. The skin on her bare arms was split, the flesh was rotten and red, turning blacker by the second. Her once-adorable face looked like it'd been dragged along asphalt. The seven could make out tears coming from her deformed eyes. As her tiny, disfigured hands hit the plane door, weaker and weaker tapping could be distantly heard. She was barefoot, and three of the toes on her left foot looked like they'd been ripped off with barbed wire. What clothes remained on the tiny girl were ripped, burnt and tattered. Strands of her hair were sizzled, like they'd been lit on fire with a match. But there was no flame, no barbed wire, none of that, this was all symptoms and the gruesome death of the plague that had entrapped the world. The seven countries stared in disbelief at this poor, disheveled, dying five year old girl. "M-mommy...," she whimpered, and her voice was choked and strangled sounding. Her cries dissolved into coughs, which dissolved into violent hacks. She hacked up blood, and what remained of her eyes went wide at the rusty red spots that freckled what was left of her palms. She barely got enough time to stare before she hacked again, more violent this time, then upchucked, and the vile liquid was horrific. What she puked out was red, and it looked like she'd literally coughed up a lung. A squishy, deformed organ piece came out of the girl's throat, spilled out her mouth. She cried with what was left of her eyes. The skin on her arms split wider, and she screamed, but her scream dissolved into a gurgle and she began to choke on blood.

Hungary stood. All countries eyes were on the rocky-faced nation. The Hungarian pulled out one if her Sigs, then strode to the plane door. She knew what she needed to do, what had to be done. The kicked the door open and walked to the choking Russian girl. The other six countries' eyes were glued to Hungary, her sig, and the dying victim. Hungary raised her gun, aimed straight for the girl's left temple. Her thumb flicked the safety mode off. Her index finger curled around the trigger. Fired. There was a bang, and the five year old dropped on the ground, bleeding from the side of her head. Hungary pulled a clip of ammo out and reloaded her sig, then hooked it back in her belt, and gave a stoney thumbs-up to the other six countries. The six carefully climbed out of the plane, down to Hungary and shook slightly.

"I told you. I don't know love anymore, I no longer feel guilt. The girl would have thanked me," she said, her voice cold and strong.

It was then, the seven decided, that Hungary would lead them.