Chrome Shelled Hetalia

Chapter 2: Verità

"I take it you found this out the hard way?" Romano finally asked, finding his voice again.

"Sort of... It wasn't me, but... Ve..." He looked down, losing himself in the memories for a moment, before looking back up again.

The others just stared... They couldn't believe what they'd just been told... what they'd just seen. The apocalypse?! Caused by nuclear power plants, of all things... It was their fault... All their fault...

"If... if it was that bad... then shouldn't you two have been more injured, aru?" China asked quietly.

"The radioactive pollen somehow messed with our connection to our nation. It still came, but it was just... delayed. It wasn't for another three days that we finally felt the full effects." Italy stated, shuddering slightly, as his hand traveled to his left side.

Before anyone else could say anything, another memory faded into existence. They found themselves in a rather calm and—to some—familiar living room, though the only light-source was the fire in the fireplace.

"Ve... This is one of the few houses that we owned that survived the blast..." Italy whispered, knowing full well exactly what they were about to witness.

"Veneziano...?" Romano asked quietly, though it was so silent that everyone heard.

"It... This is three days after the Initial Blast... It was when the full force of our connection..." He trailed off as the others paled.

"Romano...?" Feliciano asked as he walked into the room, only for Lovino to sit up from the couch he was laying on. Lovino's left ankle was securely wrapped, along with his right wrist; they were obviously sprained. Both brothers had some bandages wrapped around their heads, and Feliciano moved gingerly—apparently he had some cracked ribs—his left arm in a sling, and his right ankle wrapped up.

"Shut up! I don't feel very good... I think the connection's finally coming through again. Damnit. Stupid fucking thing..." Lovino muttered as he lay back on the couch. "I wish the fucking electricity was working. Damnit! What I wouldn't give for a nice cold glass of water! Is that too much to ask?! I mean, not even wine, but just some cold water!" He sat up as he continued his rant. "Or some heating or something! I mean seriously, I just—!" Lovino cut himself off with a sharp intake of breath as he gripped his right side.

"Fratello...?" Feliciano asked worriedly, before he saw that Lovino's blue shirt was bleeding red. "Oh no... I'll be right back!" Feliciano shot out, before hobbling as fast as he could towards the bathrooms where they kept the first-aid and trauma kits.

Seconds later, Feliciano raced back into the room—ignoring his own injured ankle and broken arm—and handed Lovino a couple of painkillers as he worked on removing the shirt to treat the injury.

Lovino took the pills gratefully, but started to wave Feliciano's worrying hands away.

"I'm fine, idiota... Just a few cuts..." He muttered as two deep gashes were shown in his right side. Feliciano didn't say anything; he simply started sewing Lovino up with steady, experienced hands—once again, ignoring his broken arm.

"You've... done this before?" America asked, surprised. Of all nations, he'd thought that Italy would be the last to be trusted in a medical situation...

"Si. You're forgetting that Romano and I are actually older than Japan, we've been in many dangerous situations before."

"YOU'RE WHAT?!" Multiple nations shouted at once, as Italy covered his sensitive ears.

"Nani? You didn't know?" Japan asked, enjoying their shock almost as much as Italy and Romano were. Though Japan himself only found out about it within the past half-century.