(Hey, don't worry!)
America charged forward to the front door of the mansion. Excitement and irrational fear swelled in his chest. He hated horror, yeah, but hey, he had to try! He was the hero!
"Hey, America~ Slow down, ve~" Italy called after him, running to catch up with his longer strides. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.
"Sorry, dude. I'm just so excited, ya know?" Italy smiled back at him.
"Ve~ It's alright!"
"Oi, you bloody wanker, wait! You shouldn't just race ahead, you know!" England snapped approaching them with a scowl on his face.
(I'm the hero, right?)
When they entered the strange, empty mansion, America suppressed a shiver. The hero couldn't be seen shivering!
"Ve~ It's so clean~" Italy chirped, scuffing his boot along the floor lightly.
"Yeah, man! I mean, you'd think someone actually lived here or something!" America laughed. A loud crash interrupted any further conversation. America jumped, surprised. "H-hey! W-what was that?!"
"Something probably fell, you bloody idiot." England scolded him. "I'll go take a look."
"Ah, be careful, ve~!" Italy called after him as he walked off down the hallway.
(I'll take care of this, just leave it to me!)
It was the prickle of hair standing up on the back of his neck that alerted America that something was off. An almost electric crackle seemed to pulse through the room, setting his nerves on edge.
"H-hey, do you think we should go after Iggy?" America asked, turning to Italy.
"Hm…" Italy tilted his head to the side, thinking about it. "Maybe, ve~ Should we give it a little longer?" America didn't have a chance to reply.
(Hah…this thing is tougher than I'd thought it'd be!)
America panted, running faster than he had thought possible. He had fired off a few rounds from his pistol, but the thing that was chasing him had shrugged it off like the bullets were nothing. He chanced a look back, only to be met with soulless black eyes. A scream rose up in his throat before he suppressed it. He just had to keep running. Italy was beside him. There was a room up ahead…maybe…
(Hey…I think this is it.)
"Ah! America, ve~!" Italy's yelp went unheeded as America opened a door and shoved him into the room beyond.
"Hey! Come and get it!" he shouted at the thing. His only reply was black, razor sharp talons slamming into where he had been just a few seconds earlier.
(It's gone…but It got me pretty good that last time.)
He was cornered. Nowhere to go. The thing had trapped him in a room; he was out of ammo. Gritting his teeth, America clenched his fists and raised them. If he was going to go out, he was taking this thing with him, damnit!
(I…I don't think I'm going to make it back.)
"Hah…I got It…"
America slumped in the corner of the room. He hissed as he jostled the wounds that the thing had dealt. He laughed, the sound rasping in his throat. He had killed It. But…it seemed…that he would not see the fruits of his efforts.
(No, listen—keep everyone safe, okay? For me.)
He was so tired. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.
(It's kind of sad, really.)
"H-hey, Italy…!" America laugh-panted.
"Come on, get up! We have to get you to England, he can help!"
"I…I don't think Iggy can help me now, Ita."
(I wanted us all to get out together…)
"W-What are you saying! You'll be fine, America!" Italy was crying by now, desperation in his hazel eyes.
"I…think this is it for me, Ita. At least I got it, though!" America laughed, the sound quickly turning into a rasping cough. "Hey…it's getting kind of dark in here, isn't it?"
Italy bit his lip, nodding tearily. "Sì, it is."
"Could you…could you stay? I don't wanna die alone…" America's words were growing more slurred as he lost more blood.
"Of course, America, of course," Italy agreed, taking his hand.
(I'm glad though.)
His vision was slowly going dark. He smiled weakly at Italy, reaching up tremulously with his other hand to wipe at the tears still streaming down Italy's face.
"Hey, don' be sad, 'kay? It's gon' be a'right…"
Italy cupped that hand to his face. "Right, ve~!"
"Jus'…keep sm'lin'…tha's wha' a h'ro's s'ppo's'd ta do, righ'? Kee' peo'le sm'lin'…"
Italy nodded, forcing a teary smile.
(That I…was able to be by your side…to the very end.)
Slowly, his chest stilled. The light fled from blue eyes that were shielded by glasses.
America breathed his final breath.
(Don't be sad, please! I'm sure…that we'll meet again someday.)
(I think, that in a different life…we could have been best friends.)
(Goodbye, for now…my friend.)
So, this is from semi-America's POV, semi-third person POV. I am on a Hetaoni splurge right now…why, Tomoyoshi-san? Why will you not attempt to complete Hetaoni and give us an ending to our suffering? *despairs*