What Would You Do (NFFI#13) Excerpt

While I may not have many solid ideas for the rest of the story, I might as well hack out the first chapter I have imagined.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Liechtenstein wasn't sure how she had gotten into this room. She couldn't remember the last time she was awake, and her current headache could have meant anything.

Clues weren't readily available around the room, either. A cavern that bellowed echoes when she scraped her feet across the tile floor, the room was made of curved metal walls that twisted to meet each other far above her head. Thin lights lined the corner where the floor met the walls, lighting the room with a harsh fluorescence that reflected weakly off everything but the dark ceiling. 

It took another moment of orienting herself for Liechtenstein to realize the walls weren't entirely bare. A thin, black screen was embedded in the wall opposite where she sat, and after a moment of her peering at it it leapt into a flash of life.

At first, she didn't even understand what she was seeing. Blonde hair matted with rough rivulets of blood filled the screen in high-definition. Her hand went to her head, but her own hair was still clean, her ribbon tied neatly in its place.

A human growl boomed from the screen, and the bloodied hair shot upwards in a blur. The camera zoomed out a bit, revealing a man's head, which was streaked with blood, and his shoulders, which were tightly bound to a chair back. His teeth were clenched and his eyes squeezed shut. It looked like he was wearing Switzerland's usual outfit, although with a few rips and a lot more rumples. 

The man certainly looked like Switzerland, but it couldn't have been him. Liechtenstein had somehow been captured, but Switzerland wouldn't... He wouldn't have let her be captured in the first place, but... Maybe it was Switzerland...

Someone with a dark brown glove had a fistful of Switzerland's hair, pulling his head back to face the camera, but the rest of the person was offscreen. His voice was still perfectly intelligible.

"You are the only other person who has been admitted to this complex. You will be provided with some supplies and allowed to roam the guarded hallways. We are at the end. You will not be forced to leave the room in which you now sit; however, I will reiterate that you are the only other person in this complex."

With that, the gleam of a blade flashed across the corner of the screen toward's Switzerland's midsection, and the nation let out a strangled cry, the cords in his neck bulging as every muscle visible strained. Liechtenstein didn't quite cover her mouth before a shrill gasp escaped her lips.

Grunting with every exhale, Switzerland started to relax, but shining sweat was running down his forehead, following the tracks of dried blood.

"So," the attacker finished, "try to find your big brother, if you'd like."

At "big brother," Switzerland's eyes finally flew open. Alarmed, he looked around panting until he found the camera lens.

"L-Liechtenstein?" His voice was faint, so he cleared his throat. "Stay where you are! I will get out of this, a-and I will get you out before anyone—" He cut off with a scream, and a moment later a bloodier knife flicked back across the corner of the screen. Before Switzerland could begin to recover, the television flicked off.

Liechtenstein wasn't sure how long she sat there quivering, hands clamped over her mouth like she was about to vomit. It certainly seemed like hours before a thud shook the floor, sending one of the large tiles beside her rattling loosely. She glanced at the ground to find that the tile was sinking. It only made six inches of progress before another dull thud sent the tile behind it down at the same rate. The process continued until a stair set cut across the room, descending into darkness just beyond where she sat.

Slowly getting to her feet, she peered into the gap, but she still saw nothing beyond more stairs. Switzerland must have been down there somewhere. There were no other exits, and she could see no reason the man would have lied about her being in the same complex. It could easily be a trap, but she was already trapped.

What obstacles stood between her and her brother? What were they trying to put her through? Could it possibly be worse than sitting there knowing her protector was being sliced apart? 

Why would anyone do this? What could they hope to get from her? They already had Switzerland; what more could they expect from her?

Her fingers tightened around the hem of her dress.

They didn't expect anything from her. They only wanted Switzerland to give in, help them with something only a strong nation could. She was just there as a threat to him. Whoever was behind this had her captured and could do whatever they liked if Switzerland didn't agree to something. The broadcast was a jest. They knew little Liechtenstein wasn't about to plow through a war zone—she wouldn't be capable of it. She would just wait for her brother to save her like she always did, and, in the meantime, they could do whatever they wanted with her.

But they were mistaken.

Trembling silently, she pushed herself up and got to her feet. The room wobbled a bit, but she was able to straighten herself out after a minute of standing. Shoes clacking softly on the hard floor, she approached the top of the staircase and came to a stop peering down its length. From here she could see where the floor flattened out far below her, but nothing other than the same tile seemed to be down there. Anything could have been waiting. 

Of course, anything could have been waiting in her current dwelling. There was no real reason not to continue forwards. A threat. But it couldn't be that terrible, could it? She had no way to tell without stepping down there. And if it was too scary—there was no guarantee she would be able to come back here, but... but she would just have to stomach it and keep going. Switzerland had been trapped long enough to take a lot of damage, so he must have needed help, and she was his only hope. Maybe not that much of one, but she had to take on that responsibility. She was the only one here—and, after everything he had done for her, she finally had a chance to save him.

She took a deep breath and stepped onto the first stair.

—

"You are the only other person who has been admitted to this complex."

Monaco watched with wide eyes as the man jerked at France's hair, which was tangled and matted so much France couldn't have had his hands free in some time.

"You will be provided with some supplies and allowed to roam the guarded hallways. We are at the end. You will not be forced to leave the room in which you now sit; however, I will reiterate that you are the only other person in this complex."

France's eyes went wider than her own when a blade thumped into his side. A few moments of struggle passed before he was able to tone his shrill scream down to halting choking sounds.

"So, try to find your brother, if you'd like."

Still struggling for breath, France eyed the camera. He mouthed something, cleared his throat with a ragged sound, and swallowed.

"It's okay," he started, smiling shakily. "Big Brother France has everything taken care of!"

Monaco frowned. He said that, but everything on his face was screaming, "Help me!"

The hostage-taker suddenly withdrew his knife, and France fell forward, his dirty hair taking up the whole screen as he wailed. The broadcast cut out.

Monaco sat still, taking deep breaths. It appeared her big brother was in a dire situation, and she was his only hope of escape. How exactly that happened when he was responsible for her protection, and her national army was smaller than her national band, she wasn't certain. But that was how it panned out, and she hardly had anything to gain from sitting in this drab room.

Walking steadily towards the stairs when they showed themselves, she hesitated, sighed, and started downwards.
—

Germany wasn't even conscious enough to tell Italy anything.