disclaimers: i dont own hetalia, if i did there would be more action and fight scenes and :3 yoai of course. enjoy my angsty ficcy poppets!

Italy floated in the darkness or at least he couldn't see anything. He wasn't sure if his eyes were open or closed; it felt as if he were suspended. Italy was scared; Italy wanted Germany so very badly. Ve... Germany could help me, right? Germany can do anything! The air shifted from comforting to menacing, the menacing aura approached Italy slowly.

"V-Ve! Please don't hurt me! Whatever I did I'm sorry!" Italy cried, the warm tears sliding down his cheeks. Then suddenly everything was doused in a bright light, Italy yelped in pain and shut his eyes against the harsh light more tears flowed out of his eyes and dripped into the nothingness below. After a few seconds Italy opened his eye, he could see himself but he could see nothing else. He was indeed floating, it was a strange feeling to be unsuspended and yet to not be plummeting down to the hard and unforgiving ground.

Italy felt a presence behind him and he twisted his body and he quickly noticed that there was... nothing. Italy started to whimper. "Ger-Germa-any..." he whimpered "Please help me" he didn't notice the darkness creeping up his leg until it reached his knee, he had felt a strange tingling sensation and looked down to see his legs being effulged by inky black ooze. He screamed and thrashed as the blackness continued its silent march up his body, the tingling turned into pain and his terrified screeches became howls of pain.

"GERMANY! HELP ME!" and then the darkness was over his head and then his arms were effulged, the darkness smoothed out and then Italy was Italy once more except his entire being was inky black. He opened his eyes and they were a glowing red, he smiled a large smile with pearly white teeth.

"Germany~!" he called but his voice was no longer flowery and sweet, it was smooth and dangerous promising pain. "Wait up for me~!"

That had been a few weeks ago, and everything has gone to hell since. Romano, Japan, Germany and Canada all sat together their appearances dishevelled and they had small cuts and bruises. Romano had a large, deep cut on his arm that has been hurriedly bandaged. How did they get here? Well let's go back to when everyone knew something was wrong.

France walked down the hall; he had his arms crosses as he pouted. Angleterre is such a grump, I only wished to share l'amore with him. He wandered down the hall slowly, in no rush to get back to his room. Nothing was going to happen to him in the Spanish embassy now was it? Spain is such a good host why does he insist on being with that grumpy Romano-Italy? Now that France thought about it he realized that Italy wasn't at the world meeting. Where was that ball of sunshine? He doesn't usually miss meetings when their so close to his home, France was so deep in thought he didn't notice the footsteps behind him as he walked. He was pulled out of thought when someone cleared their thought behind him, he swung around to be confronted with... Italy?

"Italy! Why weren't you at the meeting?" France asked, and then it hit him "Italy..? Your-" He dodged the knife that was aimed straight between his eyes. Italy smiled a white smile that was in deep contrast with his inky black skin, clothes hair. He held three knives in each hand as he slashed at France, cutting through clothes and skin. France stumbled and fell covered in cuts and his own blood, his cerulean blue eyes slowly looked up at not-Italy.

"y-you're not It-Italy..." his formally smooth voice rasped, "Who are y-you..?" Not-Italy's smile was monster like as he took one step towards the bleeding France. Another step, and then another, until he was standing above him.

"I'm your death, your grim reaper, the last." The Not-Italy said as he kneeled down, and then drove the knife deep into Frances back stopping his heart, his lungs, his breath, stopping his life for good. Not-Italy giggled and then got up not bothering to grab any of his knives, he no longer had fingerprints so why bother? He giggled as he walked down the hallway, covered in the dead nation's blood; he turned the corner just as an American nation turned the other corner and screamed dropping his Micky-D's. The soda hit the ground and the Pepsi splattered all over the floor and the legs of America's pants but he didn't notice; he was too busy screaming bloody murder as he stared at the bloody corpse that was once one of his father figures.

France's glazed over eyes stared at the wall as he laid in his blood, his mouth still open in shock.

Not-Italy dropped out a window and began planning the next fun outing, he giggled as he disappeared into the alleyways of Madrid.

author's notes:

yeeeaaaaa... my first fanficcy, hope you like it will only get my angsty as we go. as i intend to kill of mostly everyone ;-; i'm sorry please no hate meeee, so yea review who yuo would like to see die next, please try not to hate me i'll write some nicer sugar fluff ficcy's to make you feel better when i finish this one. ok? thanks! i hope you enjoyed it! i look forward to seeing you all around!