"W-what?!" Canada squeaks. Italy looks frightened, glancing to each person.

"He seems to..." Romano looks to the side, expression unreadable. "Have some of his damned other half's memories." You freeze, unsure. That could mean anything. Italy might just have historical memories of his second player.

"That shouldn't surprise us." England says through clenched teeth. "It's unexpected, but Italy will soon--"

"No, you don't understand!" Romano yells, looking around desperately. "He has his fucking counterparts memories of this place! This mother fucking mansion! He's in this building!"

"They're in this place." America whispers in horror.

"Those wankers are behind all of this!" England shouts in disbelief. "Those fucking prats made this place, set this trap for us! They're playing a game!" He yells, his fists turning white. You take a step back, scared. France begins mumbling under his breath in French. You, not wanting to translate, cradling. You move after a moment, your chest still tight as you step around the edge of the room. They are all too caught up in the second players to notice you, as far as you are concerned. They go on and on, leaving poor Italy stood alone and confused.

"Who is that?" You hear Italy ask his brother. You look over. Italy's pointing at you. He doesn't recognise you. You give him a shy smile.

"I'm (F/n)." You introduce, taking slow steps towards him. It is almost as if you are scared. Scared that any sudden movement can break him. "I got stuck in this place with you guys." You explain, lacing your hands together.

"Oh, that's terrible." Italy looks at you in pity.

"The people I've met have made up for it." You say lightly, a mirthy smile making its way on your face. He nods slowly, looking you over.

"Have we met before?" He asks. Romano - who has stood beside him the entire time - stiffens. He sharply turns his head towards his brother, it being so fast you wonder if he has whiplash. You look between them, puzzled.

"No, Italy. Not before this mansion." You shake your head. His lips form into an 'O', nodding lethargically. "Are you feeling better?" You ask. He tilts his head. "You fainted, so do you still feel dizzy? Want a drink or some food?"

"No, grazie." He nods thankfully. You smile softly, then look towards Romano.

"Do you want anything?" You ask him. He looks at you, eyes darkening before shaking his head. Romano grabs his brothers shoulder.

"You're having a rest." Italy tries to retort. "Veneziano, go to sleep. You're tired." Romano lowers his voice, looking to the beds and starts walking. "Come here."

"B-but..." Italy looks to Germany, pouting. Germany turns to him, expression somber.

"It's alright. If there's no other way, we'll ask you. Until then, be at ease." Germany recommends. Italy nods, looking down at his feet as Romano leads him towards the beds.

"He's so... worn out," France whispers.

"Da." Russia nods. "He's done more than enough. He must have kept telling himself that he could try harder and harder to protect us." Then he moves his gaze away from Italy and looks to everyone, speaking in a sing-song tune. "Or maybe his other halfs memories were so bad that he fainted." Everyone looks to Italy in panic.

"That must be terrible," Canada whispers. Japan clenches his jaw, taking a deep breath.

"Let us think about what would be the best course of action." Japan advises.

"We need to eliminate those wankers!" England shouts, slamming his hand on the table. You jump back from him, alarmed.

"I, for once, agree with Anglaterra." France nods, crossing his arms. His normal loving expression is now sour, lips pursing and eyebrows furrowed, deep lines forming on his forehead.

"That is the only way forward." Germany nods in agreement. Canada looks to China, both looking confused. Russia stands by, watching everyone panic.

"We could, instead, try to figure out what to do next?" Canada offers.

"I say we do something quick, before they even see it coming!" America slams his fist into his palm.

"I agree with America." Japan weights in.

"Ai ya!" China sighs loudly. "Why not rest first? We can sort this out with full stomachs."

"China." France shakes his head. "Out from all of us, I thought you'd want to go straight after them." China looks away, crossing his arms.

"They have done terrible things, aru." China lifts up his nose. "But we need to be rejuvenated before we begin a fight." Canada nods in agreement.

"Yes, let's wait before--"

"I say to go charging in, guns blazing!" America yells. Romano comes storming over.

"Shut your god damned mouth, bastard!" Romano yells. "You're too loud!"

"The hypocrisy." England mutters under his breath, and you scowl at him. The comment isn't needed right now. He catches your gaze, and flushes before clearing his throat. Oh, you didn't expect him to actually pay attention. "We need to discuss our next course of action. If we don't get rid of those counterparts, then we'll be fighting two enemies instead of one."

"But if we figure out how to get out first, we will have the advantage of more ground." China argues.

"Attacking them now and we'd have the advantage of surprise." England says in exasperation. Everyone begins their own argument, you and Canada sitting on the sidelines. This is going to get old quick. You understood though, it makes sense.

By eliminating the second players, they'd only have the one foe to face, and England is right about the element of surprise.

"Before anything, we need to agree." Germany's voice booms, cutting people off. Their voices dissipate, each mumbling in their respective languages. "We aren't going to solve everything by arguing. If you want to speak, raise your hand and make your statement precise and decisive." Germany pulls his hand down his face, letting out a sigh. "Our order of business is to decide upon which course of action to take. To fight our counterparts, or, to continue in figuring a way out." They discuss, sides going back and forth.

"Why do you have to pick a fight in the first place?" You sigh, rubbing your nose. It is silent, and you continue to look down until the silence is too long. You look up, only to see Germany crossing his arms at you.

"What did you say?" He asks firmly. You look up, around, then to Canada, just to be sure that he is speaking to you.

"It's nothing." You say quietly, looking down from his intense stare. The others all look to you too, all with quizzical expressions.

"Kinder," Prussia weighs in. "This is a group decision. You can speak. West may look scary, but he won't hurt you." You begin to play with your sleeves.

"Why do we have to make them the enemy? Why do we need to... hurt them?"

"(F/n)." England is tired, rubbing the crook of his nose. "I suppose we haven't explained the situation fully, but these people are criminals. They've killed tens, if not hundreds of people. They're all serial killers." He explains, then softens his voice when you finally make eye contact with him. "If we don't get them first, they will come after us."

"Oh." Is your reply, looking down at your lap. Questions run through your mind, questions you don't want to say aloud. You know that about the second players anyway. Everyone in the fandom knows this! "Thank you for explaining." You force a smile, closing your eyes as you place your hands in your lap. You can feel some eyes lingering, but they disappear once Germany starts to speak again. You focus on your breathing, the discussion now zoned out. You cannot keep going like this. So you retell yourself, trying to calm down, that they would be told soon.

Italy will tell them. Nothing will happen. Nothing bad should happen. Italy will be fine, and so will they. Italy knows best. Trust Italy.

"Enough of this." Germany speaks up, rising from the bench. Your head snaps up at this, attention now on Germany's sharp voice. "We can take a vote."

"That's hardly fair, we don--" Either no one could hear Canada or no one wanted to.

"Spain, Romano, come join us." England calls them over. Romano sighs loudly, and Spain trots after him.

"There better be a good reason to take me away from my fratello." Romano complains, scowling at them all. Germany nods, before speaking up.

"Those in favour of finding the way out, raise your hand." One, two, 二. "Those who want to get rid of the counterparts, before they attack, raise your hand." Germany instructs. One, Two, drei, quatre, cinque, seis, семь, acht, 人.

This vote is hardly fair.

【 D4y 2, 1# 54f3r00m Curr3n7 T1m3 700p - (F/n) 】

You clutch your chest, throat tightening as you sink to the floor beside the bath, resting your burning forehead against the cold ceramic. You breathe through your teeth. Your legs sting, head banging. It all hits you in waves. A cold bath did nothing except agitate your skin, the dried blood on your leg now running smoothly. A towel wraps around you precociously, as a sweet scent fills your nose. You close your eyes, the soothing cold of the bath doing wonders as your eyes flutter closed. You continue to stare at the blankness, the blood slowly trailing down your leg, and ever so often a soft tap hitting the floor. Bloodied clothes sat in the old bath water again, the water now having blood clots and scabs floating in it.

"It's only the second day." You mutter. How many more left? Two, or maybe three? Time seems to be going slow, but when you look back, so little has happened. So little in comparison to what is coming. You grumble, curling your fingers around the edge of the bathtub and pulling yourself to your feet. You tuck the loose end of the towel under your armpit and swoosh your clothing around the bath. "At least I don't wear white." You humour yourself, your lip curling up. You then cough, the muggy air burning your throat. You scrunch up your face, closing your eyes to gather yourself. You sigh, leaning your head back as you begin to eye your bag in the corner. Only two sealed water bottles are left, others being drunk from. You turn up a lip, not fancying drinking from a bottle someone put their saliva on. You drift over, empty your bag and spreading items out. Two jumpers, three tops, two pairs of jeans, six sandwiches, six bottles of water, three beers, one first aid kit, four rice balls and one pepper. You separate the clothes, folding them up and putting them in the corner. You grab the drinks by their necks, hobbling them over to the threshold and putting them down. You place the sandwiches beside your bag, putting the first aid kit in a side pocket, the bread in another, before stuffing the rice balls into the actual bag.

I don't want to squish them and spend ages removing rice from my bag.

You walk back over to the bath, doing your best to remove the blood before twisting the material, removing water. You unplug and drape the items over the curtain railing, letting droplets drip into the bath and down the drain. You then decide which outfit to wear after putting on underwear. It is fun to be naked, but at any moment someone could walk in.

Someone should make Germany aware of the fact that curtains aren't lockable.

You grab a random top before deciding on what next. A navy knitted sweater or a light grey hoodie. The hoodie would go best with the fashionably ripped jeans, not to be mistaken for the pair you'd thrown in the bin earlier. Random thigh rips are cool, but tears to the knees are a fashion no-no. Feeling edgy, you put on the grey hoodie and ripped jeans, putting on a pair of white trainers you put by the entrance earlier. At least you don't have to worry about getting your bleach white shoes dirty with mud.
You grin, feeling better after a wash and a nice outfit until you run your tongue over your teeth. They feel grimy, so with a scrunch of your nose you approach the sink and begin to brush your teeth, looking into the mirror ever-so-often as you spit and rinse. You finish and flash a quick smile, before blowing a kiss at yourself. You laugh; laugh at behaviour and the dumb things you do by yourself. Puckering your lips, you wink at your reflection. That is before your face begins to morph, the mirror warping and moving. The image gets darker. Your face slackens as you step back, confusion consuming your face as you eye the mirror cautiously.

"Dear, can you hear me?"

"Sure, hallucination. Loud and clear." You force a laugh, eyes wide as you stare at the mirror. The forced laughter echoes back, and you cringe. "Wait, what? 'Dear'?" You whisper, bringing your hand to your lips. "Oliver?" You raise a brow, peering around the room.

"Over here." His voice sings. You look for it, only to stare back at the mirror.

"Oh my--!" Your eyes widen, shocked to seeing - not your face - but the bright beam of Oliver. Bushy eyes brows, side burns and hair brushing over his forehead, all a light orange tang. Freckles splatter all around, a cheery smile on his face.

"Are you doing well?" He asks.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You grin, tilting your head. "Luciano not sending more of his 'comrades' after me?" Oliver widens his eyes in surprise. "I'm joking, just joking!" You wave your hands, laughing. "But I'm glad to see you happy." A soft smile covers your face. "I want you to be happy."

"Looks like you've got a crush." Another figure bursts into the frame, throwing his arm over Oliver's shoulder. Oliver lights up like a Christmas tree, freckles standing out against the red hue.

"What?" Your face falls, eyebrows furrowed. That is before you think over your words. "Oh gosh, no! Not like that!" You laugh, rubbing the back of your head. "Oliver's cool and all, but I'm not hopelessly in love with him upon first sight, Allen." You grin, looking over the brunet. "I'm just extremely perky right now." Well that's true, because seeing Oliver's smiling face skyrockets your mood. Chatting with him made things seem normal, calmed you down. And even though everything with the first players was going down hill and the second players were now in danger, Oliver just made it feel alright again. Allen leans forwards, the frame moving back to identify both figures. Oliver's hands are on his knees, his body leaning into Allen as the males big frame takes up some space, legs planted in two different time zones. "You good too, Allen?" You question, shuffling in place.

"Good as I can be. You enjoying yourself?"

"As much as I can be." You mimic, crossing your arms. Allen chuckles, the rumble vibrating his body as he leans back into the sofa. "How 'bout the rest of you? You guys holding up good?" You croon a brow, eyes flickering to the background. No one else is in the image, making you worry.

Luciano is such a control freak, I'm surprised he's not there.

"They are doing fine." Oliver waves his hand flippantly, getting over the fumble from earlier. "It was so nice having you with us earlier. We are just wondering when you will get back to us?" He flutters his lashes. You stop, mouth falling open before you bite your bottom lip, looking away.

"You know I can't help you."

"And why not, dear? I'm sure you are helping those first players." You chuckle at that.

"I wouldn't be so sure on that one..." you mutter, shuffling your feet.

"So what you said about siding with us was a load of shit."Allen chuffs.

"I side with you on the injustice, but that doesn't mean I'm biased in this situation." You frown, eyebrows drew together.

"Mat, come 'ere!" Allen calls, jutting his chin. You hear footsteps, loud and heavy, as a tall figure comes into frame. Allen looks to you, and Matthieu follows his gaze to you. Matthieu stares for a moment before nodding. You return the gesture. "Didn't that liven shit up, or what?" A figure jumps into the frame, a large grin on his face.

"Hi, Xiao." You greet, eyeing his face. He didn't have a black eye when you were with him earlier. Maybe it formed after?

"It's kitten! And is that wet hair I see? Shame I wasn't there with you, I could'v--"

"So rude!" Oliver speaks over him, a hand over his mouth in shock as he turns to look at Xiao.

"You want me to help you?" Maybe you could. Not tell them everything, but help them with avoiding the first players' wrath. "What with exactly? I'm up for it, depending on what exactly."

"That would be wonderful!" Oliver smiles.

"How exactly?" You cross your arm, staring at him. "I'm not causing any major rifts, and I'm not helping you take down the First Players."

"By telling us what to do!"

"We all know that you know how this game plays out." Allen shrugs. "It's really no biggie to give out hints."

"I'm not telling you that. The game didn't have hints, so you don't get them." You gawk, looking at him in disbelief. "Telling you isn't going to help. You have to figure it out on your own. Perhaps if that happens, and you get past the game, I can help you with random stuff. But if you can't do it, that proves that this isn't the correct time lope for you to get this far." They brood for a couple of seconds. "I'm right, so I can't just give you info. And I'll tell the first players that when they realise too."

"They don't know?" Matthieu speaks up.

"Of course not. The First Players don't need to cheat."

"If by cheating we leave this place quicker, then I vote for cheating." Xiao agrees.

"Yea-no. I'm not helping you like that, Xiao." You state firmly.

"You weren't this lippy earlier." Flavio chimes in from somewhere in the room.

"Yeah, well, the situation just got far too real for me so I'm not willing to take dumb chances." Maybe the pain in your leg is numbing that part of you that warns against fear.

"I think we can find a compromise." A voice speaks up.