Spain walks with a hop in his step, humming as he scans the empty hallway. His eyes light up once seeing a door ahead, grinning ear to ear at the thought of Romano's precious face when he brings him down to see his brother. He will fulfil his job as Boss once cheering up his henchman.

Spain opens the door, expecting a room filled with ladders, big and small, sparkling clean or rusted with dirt, or maybe even rope. Romano would love him so. He could vision that cheeky smile plastered across his face. But no. Much to Spain's surprise, it is filled with men behind bars. Not just any men.

"Whoa!" His brown eyes widen, taking big steps into the room. "Wh-what is this?! What are you all doing?!"

"Someone else showed up..." China whispers in disbelief, looking over to the tan man.

"Huh? What?!" Spain grins, placing his hands on his hips. "A zoo?! A world zoo?! Do not touch or feed the nations?!"

"Oh la vache..." France looks heavenwards as he tries to control his emotions. "Is he for real!?"

"Oh, right, I almost forgot!" Spain clicks his fingers, seemingly not bothered by his friend's predicament. "Do any of you have a ladder or something? Roma--"

"Spain!" Germany slams his hands on the bars. "Open this God damn cell!"

"Ack...! Wh-what?" Spain pouts, leaning away from him. "What do you mean? Didn't Ita come this way?"

"We will explain the situation l--" Japan begins, but is cut off by Prussia.

"Can you not see them on the floor?! They could be dying for crying out loud!" Prussia shakes the door ferociously. That's when Spain notices you. His eyes go round, taking tentative steps over to you. He crouches down to get a better look. Your chest moves up in a shallow breath, then down slowly.

"Car--" He stops himself, brushing his hair back only for his dark curly locks to fall back in place. He gets up, walking over to the cell door, opening it up. They all rush out within an instant. England reaches you first and checks your pulse.

"They're alive. Oh, thank god." England cranes his neck down, putting his fingers through your hair. He recedes quickly, looking to see his fingers glistening with your blood. With no support, your head falls back. A small pool of blood is where you once laid. Canada frowns, feeling guilty. If only he hadn't given you that knife, you wouldn't have put yourself in this situation. If he told Britain 'no', you wouldn't have it. If he hadn't told you where to stash it, you would have stayed out of danger. He remembers when you first got it. You had stared at the knife in worry, eyebrows knitted together, running your fingers over it before looking down to yourself. You had nowhere to place it, and he had helped you. It was only a sentence, yet you smiled happily.

"We need to bring them back to the safe room." Prussia takes you from England, arms going under your knees and neck. You are limp, but body warm against his chest. "Canada, I'm going to need your bear." Kumajirou follows after him, batting his eyelashes.

"O-of course. Please look after them both." Canada nods, watching Prussia carry you. Your hair is matted to your forehead, sweat covering your brow. They watch Prussia move you, some following him as protection from any more attacks. You are injured, Italy is gone, and now two more lives are at risk in this death trap. It couldn't get any worse.

【 D4y 2, F1r5t Fl00r, Curr3n7 T1m3 L00p - 1t4ly 】

Italy mopes the halls, his thoughts wondering loud as his eyes are heavy.

"First, I'll look for another metal piece. If I look the rooms one by one, maybe I'll remember where it's hidden..." He wonders the halls, looking in each room he crosses. "If I remember correctly, there was a carpet in the room I hid it, so this one isn't it." He mopes his way to the first floor. "That's if I remember correctly..." Checking the dojo, bathroom, toilet and then library. He gazes around the room, eyebrows furrowed as he traces his finger over the bookcase. He sighs. "I don't remember hiding a key here. I'll try looking on the first floor." Italy strains his legs as he walks up the stairs, his emotions pulling hard on his subconscious mind. His mood plummets with every step. Everyone is in trouble, and all because of him. He feels hollow. He has repeated this so many times; he is sure he has done it correctly. He is sure. He is so confident, all except for one thing: you are here. He didn't have a plan for you; the human that appeared from nowhere. He gives a hollow laugh, eyes half-lidded. The silence consumes him. He thought being alone is his worst nightmare, but it is really his friends losing all faith in him, imprisoned here just to die, over and over and over and over and over and over an--

He places his hand on the door, pushing it open with little trouble. It is the room opposite the fireplace, the place that stinks of death. The thick miasma consumes him as he steps in, his breaths now thick. Breathing in here is hard. Always so thick.

"Was it here?" The floorboards creak as he moves. "I could finally get everyone together. This time, I'll definitely get them to escape. I have to. Otherwise..." he shivers at the thought, scrunching up his face. "I tried my best to look reliable, but even so, they didn't look like they trusted me." He takes a shaky breath, eyes looking over the sofa. "I wonder if they'd get mad at me if I went back." He cranes his neck, looking over his shoulder to the door. "I-I'd apologise. Then they'd scold me..." he brushes his foot against the frayed edge of the rug, sulking. Then his expression softens. "And then... they'd hug me, and I'd hug them back... and they'd also apologise..." He swallows, his voice breaking. "All this time... Really all this time... I... with them... from here..." Italy brings his hands to his puffy eyes, wiping off the tears. The door slams open, a large grey creature squeezes itself through the door frame. Italy spins on his heel, the Oni catching him off guard.

"Mío dio..." He moves his foot back, then the other. His eyes fill with fear. "Germ-!"

【 D4y 2, 54f3r00m #1, Curr3n7 T1m3 L00p - 1p!4ll135, J4p4n, G3rm4ny, Pru5514, 5p41n, R0m4n0 & (F/n) 】

"I think they're waking up." A blurred voice said. It is deep, making your head throb. You turn away from the light, lifting your arm over your face to block the rays. You burrow your nose into the crook of your arm, groaning. Your head is burning up.

"Turn the light off." You moan, your voice like gravel in the morning, scrunching up your face in annoyance. You grab the edge of the covers, pulling it over your head. The lights dim from inside your make-shift shelter. You can feel the presence by your bed, making you shuffle and whine. Not only did your leg hurt like a biatch, you feel as though you are coming down with a fever.

"What?" The voice questions. You curl up into a ball on your side. Your finger comb through your hair, rubbing your scalp to soothe the pain. You grumble to yourself before stretching your legs, the right one sore. You moan, arching your back and stretching out your arms, turning onto your other side. It hurt less than lying on your back. As you rub your face in the pillow, it hits you. Since when did anyone in your house have a German accent? Slowly, you crane your neck to see who exactly is beside you. Large red eyes stare at you.

"Thank goodness you're okay." Canada sighs in relief.

"You scared me back there. And it takes a lot to scare me." America informs you, placing a hand on Canada's shoulder as he leans over you.

"What?" You scrunch up your eyes, looking to both of them. Then Japan comes over, stopping beside Prussia, a glass of water in hand.

"Please, drink something." Japan offers it to you. You shuffle backwards, sitting up and rub your head, only to flinch.

"You hit your head." England explains, standing to your left. "You may have a concussion, so take it slow." He places a hand on the covers beside your leg, softening his eyes. You stare back, nodding slowly. Sleep is gradually ebbing from your mind, the haziness evaporating. "You scratched up your leg pretty good. It will hurt to walk."

"Oh." You nod before your face heats up. "Sorry for-" you curl your fingers around the cup, tilting your head down, hiding behind it. "-whining." Canada laughs softly, tilting his head towards America.

"Don't worry. We've all dealt with a lot worse." He grins, and the lot nod solemnly.

"What's that meant to mean? I'm a pleasure to be around." America pouts. They begin to chat, you absent-mindedly zoning out as you notice two new faces speaking with Germany, by the tables. They both are tan, the one furthest away more so than the other. His uniform is a sandy colour, a red ribbon around his neck and a pair of white puttees around his calves. The other has lighter olive skin in comparison, a tan outfit with a black belt and tall brown boots. A gravity-defying curl bounces off the left side on his dark hair. He stands slightly behind the other man, taking a defensive stance on whatever Germany is saying, while the other looks at Germany with innocent olive eyes, an aloof smile on his face.

"That is Spain-san and Romano-san." Japan explains, noticing your gaze.

"Oh." You nod, sipping the glass as you divert your gaze. You stare down at the water, quickly downing it. Does water always taste so sweet? Or is it because you have been so parched for so long? The answer is obvious, but it is still fun to banter. Germany finishes his conversation with the two men and walks over, a steady gaze on you. He crosses his arms, his sleeves slipping up. Red scratches follow down from the outer arm and to his knuckles, his skin red and torn. He looks sad, and you realise why. Italy is unconscious, after fighting with the biggest demon yet. Or, has he just awoke and is cleaning up in the bathroom?

"Where's, um," you rack your mind, trying to shoo away the drowsiness. Germany looks at you through half-lidded eyes, but the expression isn't angry. It is regret. "Where's Italy?" Germany widens his eyes, and the others look troubled.

"We-" Germany clears his throat. "Italy was the one that put us in the cell, and... ran off afterwards." Germany digs his nails into his arms, staring down at the floor with a stern expression.

"Where is he now?" You repeat, frowning. He didn't say anything about where Italy is now. Surely Italy is here. Germany looks away, jaw clenched.

"We don't know." England answers for him, his own face screwed up in agitation. You whip around to face him, a line appearing on your brow.

"What?" You whisper.

"He locked us in then ran away." Prussia reiterates. "He, by the sound of it, did something-- what's wrong?" Prussia looks at you. Your eyes are wide, filled with fear as you grip the bed sheet. You swallow before everything kicks in. You throw the covers up, placing bare feet on the floor as you slip past England, wobbling slightly as your head throbs. You could finally see your lower half, and the right pant leg ripped into four parts. Scratches, deeper and thicker than Germanys, are from your knee to ankle. Dried blood has crusted, and some of your jeans have soaked it up. The worst of it seems to have been cleaned up.

"Slow down, you need to--" you cut Canada off.

"Italy's in trouble!" You finalise without as much as a look in his direction, sprinting to the door.

"(F/n)!" Germany yells, hot on your trail. You trip over your own feet, falling into the door, before running down the stairs. Your legs burn, and you feel hot rivets flow down your legs. Italy had been gone too long. What if he is already unconscious? What if he is bleeding out?! This is all your fault. Your breathing becomes erratic as you turn corners, hands sliding against the wallpaper as you run down the empty hall, trying to support yourself with every step. Germany's voice echoes behind you, trying to see where you went. Italy has to be okay. Italy has to be. If he weren't, it would be your fault.

"Italy!" You screech. The Italian has to answer you back. That bastard isn't answering you. You slam open the door opposite the fireplace room, chest heaving as your eyes land on the already fallen form. "He's meant to be awake." Your eyes widen, all frustration slipping away as you look at his form. Small steps turn into larger ones until you notice someone. They stood to the side, almost guilty as they look at you, surprised by your entrance. You look down once it registers in your mind, hands and jaw clenching. "Hide under the bed." You whisper below your breath. They make a noise to speak, clearly hearing you, but you cut them off. "Hide under the bed-" you say forcefully "-before they come." There is a moment of silence before fabric shuffles, something brushing the floor before it is drowned out by heavy footsteps. A tall figure looms beside you, a green uniform catching your eye. He rushes to Italy's side, and you follow after with light steps. After all those rushing emotions, you feel empty.

"He's alive." Germany sighs, cradling Italy in his arms. Others appear by the door, filling the room. You already knew that. You already knew.

"Ita-..." Prussia stares down as you remove your jumper, silently placing it on the wound to slow down the bleeding. You put pressure, not casting a look back to Prussia.

"He's alive." You repeat hoarsely, shifting to your knees to put more pressure, using your weight. Then you suck in a breath, your legs stinging.

"Oh, thank God. He's still breathing." Prussia places his hand over his heart. "That scared the hell out of me..."

"Let us go back to the hideout, immediately." Japan said. "Prussia, please call the others back. Germany, you can carry Italy-chan. Romano-san, you can help me take care of his injuries."

"Yeah..." Romano says quietly. "Sorry." He makes a move, one which is too slow for Germany's likings.

"He's severely injured!" Germany snaps. "Hurry up!" You flinch back, loosening your hold on the cloth. He takes your place in holding down the fabric and begins shuffling about, trying to get Italy in his arms. You grit your jaw, scowling. These countries have been through this plenty of times, always dying and getting hurt. It is about time you allowed that to sink in. That this is serious and there are more significant problems at hand than your delicate feelings being hurt from senseless words.
You are about to get up, before something catching your attention. A piece of metal - weirdly shaped - sticking out from under the rug. It appears to have a key on both sides, a metal ring around the middle. One side is circular, the other had parts sticking out, like thorns on a rose stem. You reach for it, playing with the cold metal between your fingers before pocketing it.

Romano watches Germany take his brother away with a sharp look, before looking down at you. He eyes you while you stuff your hands in your pockets. He recognises the brand of your clothes, regular blue jeans and brown boots. Nothing out of the ordinary. Completely ordinary. France has been talking about you to Spain, his ears perking up, but he would instead introduce himself and allow you to elaborate on your presence. He steps around you, standing in front and holding his hand out. You catch his movement from the corner of your eye, seeing his hand offered to you. You blink slowly, eyes flickering from him to his hand. You slowly place your hand in his.

"Thank you." You smile timidly, getting up off the floor. He must have thought you had zoned out. "You're Italy too, aren't you?" You ask quietly. He nods, his brow raised in surprise as he keeps on a polite smile.

"I am Romano, representative of South Italy."

"I'm (F/n)." It is quiet, awkwardly as you look to the rug. "It's nice to meet you. I've... well." Your eyes couldn't move from the stain on the rug. A red blotch is on the carpet. He follows your line of sight and holds the same countenance. "I'm sure Italy is... I can't exactly say happy, but perhaps better now his close family is here." You rub your arm, forcing a smile.

"Me and Spain have had things explained to us." Romano looks to you, trying to understand why you had paled suddenly. "We will help find your parents, but numbero uno is to help my brother. He's been through some tough shit, and I don't want to watch this play out." You had forgotten about your parents. They haven't even been on your mind since you woke up. What you would give to have your parents back. Luciano said he has them, but could you really trust him? He gave no proof. Would you risk his patience? Which you have anyway, with running away and all. You can't run anymore with your legs like how they are. Now, all he has to do is kill them? You can feel the dark miasma surround you, the pit in your stomach heavy as can be. Hopefully, he had them under lock and key outside the mansion, where he couldn't immediately get to them.

"Thank you." You whisper, looking down. "We should all be more concerned with Italy. My parents..." Your voice drifts off, biting your inner cheeks and looking away. You have been strong until now, you could not break. But this is your fault. If you had stopped the others instead of cleaning the dishes, prevented them from leaving, and made Italy tell the truth, it would be all right now.

"Are safe." Romano finishes, scowling at you. You look at him, smiling softly.

"Of course they are." You chuckle impishly, looking to the door. "Let's get going." You lock eyes with Romano, grinning half-heartedly. You make a step to move, but one of you legs buckle. You yelp, hitting the floor. You chuckle, looking up at Romano. He sighs, rolling his eyes before pulling you up, throwing. Your arm over his shoulder.

【 D4y 2, 54f3r00m #1, Curr3n7 T1m3 L00p - F1r5t Pl4y3r5 & (F/n) 】

All nations are gathered around Italy's bed. The Italian now has a thick layer of bandages wrapped around his stomach, blood still seeping through. You, on the other hand, are washing your jumper in the bathtub, trying to get out Italy's blood. The others had insisted you lay down, but you just couldn't. You have been scrubbing the jumper for five minutes now, the tubs water slightly red. The stain remains. You growl in annoyance, some blood already crawling its way under your nails. You throw the item into the bath, thus earning a splash back. Your jeans had been discarded, useless with the rip, so you were sat with a leg stretched out in just your panties and T-shirt.
You screw up your lips, curling your fingers and let out a high pitch whine in the back of your throat. This is infuriating. You run your hand down your face, pulling at the skin as your heart sinks further. It is obvious why you are so annoyed. Italy. You take a shaky breath.
Okay, okay. You need some jeans. Could you put jeans on? Sure, they doused you up on some medicine earlier, but could you bare to pull some tight clothing over your scars. You look to your bag. You had some pjama bottoms in there. Oh god, now you'd have to dress like a slob around these attractive people. Ahhhh. Okay, no, you're being stupid. Your looks should be the least of your concern right now. You pull out the pjama bottoms, which were really an old pair of cuffed joggers. Maybe it wasn't too bad if you changed your top too. Give a grunge look. You hadn't actually changed clothes in two days, and you were in need of it. You pull it on, sitting on the edge of the bathtub to not put too much pressure on your leg. It was slow and painful, but you could deal with it. You reach down, hobbling, and throw your torn jeans into the tub too. Maybe you could get the stain out, and maybe you'd find a sewing kit. Fix it up, maybe.
You head out and start to dwell on this far too real situation. This situation is going to break them far more than you realised. Why couldn't this of just been a game? Why did this have to be the reality? The moment you leave the bathroom, you are hit with the dark atmosphere. The problem at hand weighs down on everyone's mind.

"-isagree." France furrows his brow, looking to England. "If we all approach him when he's already so weary, he'll only feel cornered."

"You want us to keep going like this, with us in the dark and only him in danger, aru?" China questions with a frown. "I think we should interrogate him. Otherwise, he'll only continue to put himself in danger without telling us the truth."

"Everyone saw his face." Russia looks down. "I don't think we'll get him to talk so easily."

"Why don't we wait a little before trying to ask him?" Canada suggests. "If it's the only way, even if we have to be a little overbearing."

"'A little?'" England repeats in exasperation. "How long do we have to wait, exactly? We don't have much time left and--"

"Romano, you know something, don't you?" America cuts England off with a look, before turning to the eldest Italian. "Can't you tell us?" Romano looks away, Spain placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Roma?" Spain squeezes softly, trying to get him to look up.

"I don't know everything, but I do know more than you." Romano explains reluctantly, pulling his shoulder away from Spain's grip.

"Then..." Prussia looks to him hopefully.

"But, it's precisely because I know more than you that I understand my brother's decision." He looks down at Veneziano. "I can't just tell you something he's so desperately trying to hide." You slowly approach the group around the beds, worried. Your feet pad across the floor.

"But this isn't only about him." England clenches his fists. "Our lives are also on the line! What are we supposed to do now?" Romano tenses, squaring his shoulders, sharing a heated gaze with England. The gentleman calms slightly, sensing something he wasn't telling.

"... I'm sorry. But, I don't know either."

"Easy there." Spain looks at England, knowing what the old empire is like. "I've no idea what to do, but no need to be so harsh on Romano. Give him a break." Romano crosses his arms. He looks at Germany who has been silent till now.

"Potato Head, what do you think?" Germany looks at Romano. "I want your opinion. Should we interrogate him, or wait for him to talk of his own accord?" Germany looks back to Italy's still body, eyes scanning all the damage he went through. All he went through for them.

"Germany?" Japan looks across to him.

"I..." Germany begins. "More than interrogating him or to waiting for him to tell us... more than anything, I want him to wake up." He looks at Romano, his expression surprisingly soft. "If he wants to talk, I will listen. If he doesn't want to talk, I won't ask him anything." He swallows. "I think we should try trusting him."