(Gerita Fanfiction)Even When It All Fails

chapter one

This a hetalia fanfiction of Gerita, based mostly off the game wolfenstein. I do not own hetalia nor do I own wolfenstein. All credit goes to their respective owners.

Chapter 1:

Ludwig, stood up from the chair he was sitting in. He turned to his brother, Gilbert, who looked at him and said,

"fly 'er for me will ya'? I gotta' take a piss."

Ludwig went to sit and the aircraft shook. A red alarm began beeping and Gilbert turned to his younger brother.

"Behildshmit, go and seal off the engel fuel. It's leaking. You'll need some tools to do it, check in the storage area!" The albino barked into the headset.

The door to the other part of the aircraft opened, and Ludwig dashed in. He looked in the storage area, throwing boxes upon boxes on the floor, looking for anything he could shut the engine fuel off with.

"C'mon Behildshmit! If you don't do this we're gonna' go up in flames!"

Ludwig could see the fire in the engine room spreading, he grabbed an oversized cap and some tape.

He slid into the small compartment and went as quick as possible to tie up the loose container. He broke the glass for the fire extinguisher. Putting, out the flames he sighed.

"Alright, Behildshmit, I'm gonna' need you to jettison everything we have in the back. We're losing altitude." Gilbert informed Ludwig.

Ludwig made his way to loading station, ducking under the metal bars impeding his path.

"Alright, I'm opening the hatch. Be careful." Gilbert ordered.

Ludwig cut the straps to each of the crates, his blonde hair become a mess due to the wind. His blue eyes narrowed as he ran to the last crate. His brother muttering curses as the aircraft was going down. He slashed through the ropes holding it down and watched as it fell into the air.

"Good work, now get up here. You gotta' see this..." He trailed off.

Ludwig walked to the front of the aircraft. Extremely advanced aircraft leaving streaks of red in the air. The cockpit was illuminated with red light. The hatch to the turret opened, Ludwig slid into the chair. His calloused hands gripping onto the handles. He shot the best he could at each of them, but they seemed to be targeting him.

Once he had shot almost all of them out of the sky, he exited the turret. Another aircraft sent in a distress signal.

"S-sir the pilot is down, " It was an Italian sounding man, "the entire unit and I don't know what to do. Please sir, please help us!"

"Alright son, calm down. What's your name?" Gilbert asked.

"P-private Lovino V-varagas, Sir." The young man cried.

"Alright, Private Vargas, I need you to pull the steering wheel to your chest. Don't turn it or do anything else. Just pull, and pull with all your bloody might." Gilbert ordered.

"I-I think it's working sir!" Private Lovino informed them.

Gilbert spotted the aircraft the young man was in and flew over to it. Gilbert realized that one of the engines were smoking and radioed Private Vargas again.

"Tell some yer' men to wait at the door, you got some company."