Hetalia 4 New Awakening

"Because it's bloody cramped in here, I need air."

[color=black][font=perpetua]he sighed and shook his head. "if you're going to keep doing that every time we go under we're not going to get to wales."

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"Errrrrrrgh fine." Scotland sat back down.

[color=black][font=perpetua]greece pushed the throttle downwards, and the submarine obeyed. it began to submerge, sinking below the surface.

[hr]

Scotland kept pacing around the sub, getting more irritable by the minute

[color=black][font=perpetua]at last they arrived to the pyramids to a small, secluded entrance at the bottom. the sub door opened to the entrance. greece parked the submarine as much as submarines could parked and began to walk in, giant cross in hand.

i heard he uses a cross as a weapon
big and metal maybe i don't know

[hr]

Scotland and Ireland followed close behind.

[color=black][font=perpetua]eventually they arrived in the room with wales and the man who had claimed himself incognito.

wales was in bad shape though- he had a multitude of injuries, some new and some old, with equally dried and wet blood around the chair. a nasty cut dove across his eye, turning much of the green into cataracts, his ankle was twisted wrong and something poked from his bleeding arm- something greece didn't want to figure out, and these were only a few of the blood-drawing cuts, scrapes and breaks. the poor country's head was hung- probably unconsious.

[hr]

"Wales!" Scotland and Ireland dashed over to their little brother.
"C'mon, Wales. Look at me. Look at me!" Scottie pleaded, gently cupping the younger's head in his hands.

[color=black][font=perpetua]wales ached, but he blinked his eyes open, sending pain through his bad eye. he struggled to left his head, finding it hard to meet scotland's eyes- both physically and emotionally. he tried to call out- say something, maybe just his name would do- but his throat rebelled and was sent into a coughing fit when pained his lungs. the nation made a pitiful keening sound.

meanwhile, the man leaned back on a wall, clearly uninterested. he picked at his fingernails. "well, tell me. did you raise the 2ps yet?" he walked over to wales, drawing out a black switchblade. "or will i have to put this to use?" he heard a faint, scared whimper- oh, that was music to his ears.

[hr]

Scotland glared daggers at him while Ireland spoke, "We haven't gotten around to it, but we're lookin' for a way to raise them. Why do you want them?"

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 500px; font-family: timesnewroman; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify;]Lukas glowered in the direction of Wales' captor, his usually stoic expression slightly lifted to reveal something in the smart of a scowl. So this was the man who dare mock the death of his younger brother? The Norwegian tightened his grip on the handle of his weapon: Denmark's battle axe that he borrowed. Or, in reality, took without asking. He would return it, though.

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Meanwhile, Denmark was frantically searching his storage room for his battle axe.

> i had to. :P

Pfft cx

[color=black][font=perpetua]dee scowled. "that's none of your business. as for this little one, i'm afraid your deadline is approaching fast. you'll have to find a way quick."

i feel like their attic / storage room would be full of axes and halberds and swords from their viking age

[hr]

"We're not the magic ones, that's Britain! We don't know anything about raising the dead!" Ireland objected.

"Give us back Wales or I'll make haggis outta your insides!" Scotland threatened, gritting his teeth.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 500px; font-family: timesnewroman; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify;]Norway glanced at the three brothers. Ireland and Scotland were standing right next to Wales, so why don't they just cut him loose? Of course, he realized Dee would most likely have some sort of weapon to threaten them with; but they could still try. Perhaps they didn't have a knife?

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[color=black][font=perpetua]in a flash, dee had his knife at the boy's throat. wales' eyes widened in fear and he closed them tight, biting his bottom lip.

"i don't care. find a way." he turned to face scotland and spoke. "do not temper me, scot."

[hr]

"I don't take well to daggers against throats." he threatened, getting to his feet.
"We'll figure out how to use magic, but in the meantime, no harm comes to Wales. Savvy?" Ireland said.

[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 500px; font-family: timesnewroman; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify;]Lukas stared at Dee, mentally preoccupied with insults and thoughts and plans.

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