"Will you slow down?!" Britain shouted, grabbing any stable object within the car and clinging onto for dear life.
Germany knew the Brit probably regretted letting Germany drive, but Britain had to give directions and France was out of the question. Out of all of them, he seemed the most exhausted. Germany was speeding twenty miles over the speed limit, zooming down streets and the sound of tires screeching echoing in his ears when he made a too-sharp turn.
"Take a right here.. and slowly will you?!" Britain has rasped out the first part, looking down at the map in his hand, but yelled the second part as his frame was yanked to one side and slapped against the car door at the sharp turn. "If I die, you're not allowed to come to my funeral!"
Germany didn't speak. He knew the Brit wasn't being serious. Even if he was, if he were to die, at the hands of his driving -- if that were even possible for a country -- he wouldn't be able to bring himself to go to the funeral. Other than that reason for not speaking, he needed to focus on not wrecking the car but still going as fast as he dared. At least the streets were almost completely deserted, so he didn't have to worry about other drivers all too much.
Britain yelling warnings about Germany's driving while also somehow managing to still give him directions, lasted for about ten more minutes before they pulled up to a house. One story, a house that looked like every other on the block. The first and second house they visited hadn't been it, so now Britain's confidence was waning down.
"Third time's a charm?" France offered, but Germany or Britain didn't seem to appreciate it much. Charm wasn't exactly on their side considering they snuck into each of the houses and each time risked getting caught by someone who might not be Italy's captor. The first house wasn't even occupied, so they escaped unscathed, but at the second house an angry old lady had nearly beat them to death with her purse when she found them snooping around her house.
Germany put the car in park and got out as quickly as possible while still being quiet. They did that every house, just to make sure if it was the house where Italy was, they could keep the element of surprise. They snuck up to the front door, with only one interruption when France stepped on a thin twig and caused both Germany and Britain to jump.
"Sorry." He whispered when they looked back at him.
Britain was the one who picked the lock. He found it surprisingly easier than the last two houses, which was odd since the first one wasn't even inhabited. They slipped inside as quietly as possible, and spread out. Germany saw a figure sleeping on the couch in the light of a TV, but couldn't make out much of him because his front was facing the couch side. He dismissed it and moved on.
He searched areas where he thought if this was the house Italy was in, where he might be. He searched for the better part of twenty minutes, before he found a door oddly placed among the hallway. He inched towards it, and when he tried to turn the knob, he discovered it was locked. He furrowed his brows, wondering why it would be locked. He found the only explanation to be the high possibility this was the right house, and Italy was somewhere behind that door.
Germany looked around for Britain, but couldn't see him. He silently cursed and pulled on the knob again. It didn't budge. He searched his person for anything he could use to pick a lock, but found nothing. As much as he hated it, he had to go back and look for Britain.
It took a few minutes, but Germany located the Brit and led him back to the door he had found. France wanted to tag along, but Germany insisted it was a better idea to at least have one person on that side of the door in case something went wrong. Reluctantly, he agreed, and just a minute later, the door unlocked with a click.
Leading the way, Germany descended down the narrow stone steps. Britain closed the door behind them, after making sure it was unlocked for good until someone re-locked it with the proper key. After what felt like an eternity of descending stairs, but what was only really not even over thirty steps, they came across another door. This one seemed more secure, but Britain was persistent that he could unlock it.
His abilities didn't fail them, but it took far longer than Germany would have wished. He tapped his foot impatiently, rubbing his arms, and running his fingers through his hair. When the click of the lock came, Germany grabbed the knob and pulled it open. What was revealed was a small stone room, unfurnished except for a wooden chair in the middle of it and undecorated stone. In the far right corner of the room sat a limp figure, slouched enough that he was either dead or sleeping. His face was obscured by the way his head hung and his brown hair. He wore no shirt or socks or shoes, only jeans. The pale exposed skin was bloodied and bruised, his frame thin. Thinner than usual. Germany knew this because without a doubt, it was him.
They'd found Italy.
Germany rushed over to the sleeping Italian and stumbled into a kneeling position. He took the male into his arms, lifting his face to have him try and look at him. Germany frowned and felt anger bubble in his gut as he felt blood seep into his clothes from Italy's frame. His face was blank from his sleeping state, but dark circles lined his eyes, and Germany had no trouble believing the Italian hadn't been able to sleep.
"Italy." Germany whispered. No response. He knew there wouldn't be one deep down, but just like when he'd first been captured and he'd shouted his name, it still hurt when he didn't get an answer.
He pressed his forehead against Italy, wanting to end his pain in just an instant. "Feliciano..." He whispered, quieter than the first time, his voice cracking slightly. He squinted his eyes shut, squeezing Italy in his arms slightly. The Italian grunted and stirred, but didn't wake. Germany loosened his grip and lifted him up, carrying him bridal style. Britain stood at the door, watching, but also looking up at the stairs from time to time. Probably to check if something was wrong.
"Come on. We've got Italy. Let's get out of here." Britain whispered, and began descending the stairs, this time with himself in the lead.
He opened the door at the top to find that some of the lights were on. He froze, afraid that they'd been discovered. Germany wondered if Britain worried about France. Sure, they bickered all the time, but he figured they had at least a secret friendship they didn't want anyone to know about. Japan thought it was a secret something more, but Germany just couldn't see it.
They snuck towards the source of the light and listened to the sound of voices.
"... doing here?" A voice Germany recognized as Luciano was saying. When he peeked around the corner of the wall, he saw the man in question. He was wearing every day clothes, his hair was a mess, and he looked tired and agitated. He was also holding a knife, pointing it at France, who was backed up against the kitchen counter.
"Oh, well, you see, it's a very long story. A boring one, too. Besides I was just le--" France stopped as Luciano narrowed his eyes and stepped closer. "I have plenty of time." He said very slowly, bringing the knife closer to France. Britain looked like he wanted to wring Luciano's neck.
Germany was about to tell Britain to sneak up behind Luciano and knock him out so they could hurry and get out, but then a familiar voice sounded behind them, "More guests!... I don't remember inviting more guests."
When Germany turned around he found himself almost face to face with Luther. He pulled Italy closer, determined not to let go. He couldn't fight while holding a person, though. There were two enemies and three of them. Maybe Germany could just tell Britain to grab Italy and go get him to safety, but Britain had already went to help France.
"You wouldn't be trying to leave with Feli, now would you?" Luther stepped closer, his eyes narrowed. "Because I didn't let him go yet."
"Leave him alone." Germany growled, quickly setting Italy down on the floor, leaned up against a wall. Germany then stepped forward and grabbed Luther's shirt collar. "We're going to leave her with Italy if it kills me, and you're going to let us. After, of course, you won't have a choice."
"I won't?" Luther arched a brow. "I'm curious to see how you could disable me that badly."
"Not disable. You'll be dead."
Things began to blur and everything happened so fast. Germany and Luther brawled, while Britain was on Luciano's back, attempting to choke him. France had a hand over his shoulder, blood seeped into the cloth next to the spot he was covering. The knife Luciano had been holding was bloody and at the floor by his feet.
For a while, Germany couldn't gain any ground on Luther, nor he him. They didn't speak. They didn't have time to. But finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Germany gained some ground on Luther, and from then on the fight was in his favor. It drew to a close with Germany pinning Luther to a wall, both of them out of breath.
"You hurt Italy." Germany whispered.
"I did." Came the retort.
Germany felt the anger in his gut flare and he grabbed Luther's neck, throwing him against a wall. He heard a snap and his body fell limp. He didn't bother to go over and double check if he was dead. Germany glanced over at the fight with Luciano and the other nations. He saw Luciano lying on the floor with Britain grabbing some paper towels and wadding them up to help put pressure on France's wound.
Then he turned his attention to Italy. He didn't seem peaceful at all in his sleep, and his wounds only looked worse in the better lighting. He frowned, gently picking him up again. He walked over to Britain and France. "Come on, we need to go." He said matter-of-faculty.
Britain drove, while France rode shotgun. Britain knew the way back now, and didn't need directions. Germany sat in the back, but didn't let Italy sit in the perfectly able seat beside him. Instead, he kept holding him in his lap. He didn't want the seat belt making his wounds worse, so Germany decided to act as his seat belt.
As the engine started and they began to pull away from the house, Germany rested his head on Italy's shoulder and breathed in deeply. "Don't worry, Italy." Germany whispered to the sleeping Italian. "It's all over now."