Hetalia-Worldwide Plague Outbreak

Rebellious Victims

Canada lay on the bed, paralyzed up to the neck. He could barely move his head from side to side, and his legs and arms no longer functioned. He needed to be carried. His right eye was a lazy eye, and the eyelid drooped shut unexpectedly. He could talk, but his voice was quieter and softer, and could sound choked and strangled. "M-my Capital city n-no longer exists," the Canadian nation whimpered softly. "I'm hurting," he whined. America bit his lip and clenched his fists.

A gun click was heard. It wasn't Hungary. A 'clink' was heard on the side of the plane. All seven countries glanced out the window, and their eyes went wide. A crowd of victims were outside, rifles in their puffy, ash-grey hands. Hungary pulled a clip of ammo out of her pocket and reloaded both her Sigs, then growled and opened a window. "The hell do you bastards want?" She yelled. "Go back to crawling around the alleyways! Leave us healthy countries the hell alone!! If you get near us, our countries instantly fall, our populations become instantly wiped out and we die!"

"Death to Canada! Death to you all! Russia will conquer, and repopulate the world!" A Russian man yelled. Russia sank into his chair. "We are the strongest country, we will kill you all except Ivan and Russians will dominate and repopulate!"

Hungary growled. "Crowd of twenty. I've got enough ammo to kill them all," she said. "These ones are rebellious, they want Russians to conquer, they want us all dead except you, Russia. They want Russians to repopulate, so the world will be built from the Russian empire. I won't let that happen, they had it coming...," she trailed off, then surprised everyone by jumping out the window. There was rapid gunfire, men cursing, children screaming, women crying. Hungary against a crowd of Russians. The six looked away from the window. She was going to die. May as well assign a new leader. Canada groaned again, and America rocked him back and forth until the two brothers snored softly.

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It was very quiet since Hungary had gone out to fight. She'd been gone for a half hour, and the gunfire and yelling outside had anything but ceased. The six were scared for the Hungarian. She was strong, but strong enough to fight a crowd of victims that'd kill her if she got too close?

Russia had wanted to help Hungary, but Belarus held him back. Belarus wanted to go help Hungary, but Russia held her back.

America and Canada were still curled up, America snoring loudly and obnoxiously, Canada's breaths lighter than a breeze.

England and France weren't arguing. They chatted quietly about their economies, governments, and Canada. They felt worse than bad for Canada. "Poor lad," England sighed. "Sometimes I wish they'd just kill him now to prevent suffering, but I want to keep my boy alive no matter what...oh France, I'm so confused, put a bullet in my head now!" He put his head in his hands and bit his lip.

"Shush, Angleterre, it'll be ok," the French nation said, tilting England's head up and looking into the olive green eyes. "Canada will survive this. We'll all survive this. The French, the English, the Hungarians, the Russians, the Canadians and the Americans will repopulate the earth and we'll all become stronger. New countries will form. It'll be a revolution, I promise."

"Don't make a promise you can't keep, frog," England whispered, then slipped into unconsciousness. France sighed.

"You're right, Angleterre," he said, even though the Brit was already asleep.

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It was midnight. Everyone was asleep except for England. He sat, on watch, his eyes on the little hatch, his hands curled around a loaded rifle. Hungary wasn't back yet. They were starting to have their doubts on her return. England sighed, and looked at sleeping France. England loved the French nation, wanted more than anything to be with him. But if he confessed his love, France would win. France thinks I love him, the Brit thought, I need to prove to him he's wrong.

England hated being proved wrong. Despised it.

At about 1:30am, a faint clinking sound was heard. England raised the rifle at the hatch, swallowed hard, and unlocked the firearm. Clicked it in place. Aimed for the hatch. A figure crawled through the narrow space. Well, more like dragged themselves through the entry point. England lost control. Fired. Was thrown back. He hadn't positioned the rifle on his shoulder properly. The figure screamed and held her shoulder. "YOU BRITISH BASTARD!"

He'd shot Hungary.

He went white and ran to the cockpit, hid behind Russia, who'd been scared awake by the shot, as did everyone else. "What the hell did you shoot her for, England?" Russia asked, the innocent little devil-smile on the Russian's face widening.

"I-I thought it was a v-victim...it was Hungary r-returning," England replied shakily. The Hungarian nation didn't like him that much before, but this sealed the hate-deal. Boom. Done. If this virus didn't murder the shit out of England, his own leader would.