(A/N: Hey! This will be a multi-chapter Hetalia AU adventure! It's very SuFin-centric, but many characters make appearances. I clearly don't own Hetalia, because a fifteen-year-old teenage girl from America would never be able to create a Japanese webcomic. Questions/reviews are always accepted!)
Berwald cleared his thoughts, trying to distract from his previous actions. The man he faced was no longer an ally; nights spent watching his friendly smiles would be forgotten once it started. He stared at his opponent, the dirty-blonde, glasses-bearing man of average height, programmed with impossible strength and an excess of energy. Of course, he had his faults—his attacks were slow and he talked during his battles. Berwald was superior in height, silent, and easily turned into a deadly machine of destruction. None of this mattered, though—he would not be in control of his actions. All of his faith was placed in an outsider of fifteen years.
His opponent introduced himself cockily and routinely. A moment later Berwald gave a silent presentation of his skill.
"Round One—decide the destiny." The familiar rumble of an announcer flashed through Berwald's ears, and he begged silently that chance was on his side.
The fight had been a disaster. Alfred F. Jones, the man he fought, beat him in a matter of seconds. The outsider was skilled, as he did nothing but wake up, play Battle of Hetalia, eat, and continue the cycle. Had that one boy left Challenge Mode alone, Berwald may have stood more of a chance. Loosing wasn't something that could be controlled, but the towering Swedish arena fighter still felt a pang of humiliation. The player had given him a winning streak before that one battle. Now, he walked shamefully back to the Selection Stage, where fighters awaited their chance to play. Upon reaching a large, cement-walled room, he stepped between Polish fighter Feliks Lukasiewecz and an empty gap, for the character who took that space had yet to appear.
"That was totally rough, man. I cringed at everything." The short Pole's words did nothing but depress Berwald even more. "Hey, at least the player dude actually picks you. You could be sitting around, watching everyone else have more fun than you." Pangs of guilt stabbed the defeated fighter. Feliks wasn't very popular with the game's particular owner. Davey Dikinson, the teen who devoted his life to virtually fighting a group of characters that resembled the United Nations, usually tried to find the strongest warrior the game offered. Considering his standard pose was his hand on one hip and one of his costumes was a cocktail dress, it wasn't hard to see why Feliks was constantly out of favor. Berwald sighed, once again grateful for his status.
"You'll prove y'self one day," he offered, trying his best to be comforting. The blonde opened his mouth to speak, but an echo of "Character Select—Please await selection" roared through the cold, lifeless room. Everyone in the room froze immediately; the atmosphere grew tense, nervous. Who would face each other next? A majority of the characters stared ahead, transfixed on the massive leaderboard that projected statistics. Number of fights won, number of fights lost, number of times played, and highest score achieved filled it. Berwald's failure would not earn him a second chance, yet the desire to battle surged through his blood.
"Player One—Alfred F. Jones. Alfred F. Jones, please step forward." The victor of Berwald's fight cheered and stepped away from the line of fighters. His smile was wide and excitement shone in his blue eyes. Good for him, Berwald thought, though he felt a pang of dissapointment. Alfred was one of the youngest characters in the game, and yet his stats earned him the top ranking on the leaderboard. Alfred would not leave Davey's favor anytime soon.
"Computer Player—Ivan Braginski. Ivan Braginski, please step forward." A man Berwald's height smiled and stepped calmly out of line. His weapon, a water pipe, struck the ground as he grinned at Alfred.
"Looks like I get to destroy you," Ivan teased, violet eyes gleaming. Alfred scoffed.
"Yeah right, and I'm going to kick your ass!" Alfred punched the air and whooped in delight. Before their banter could continue, the two were ushered to the room's left door, the gateway to the arena. The rest of the players casually wandered off to the right, where they would lounge as a screen projected the ongoing battle.
Twenty minutes later, the battle still raged. The two figures on screen threw glowing punches colorful strikes; both are on the verge of defeat. An adjacent screen showed Davey, who cursed frantically as Alfred avoided a death via water pipe at his command. All eyes in the large, circular lounge room were peeled to the fight; some take sides, others allowed fate to take its course. Punches went nowhere. The outsider appears to go by a "dodge everything" tactic, but he bears no signs of giving up.
"I'm betting on Ivan," a tanned man with a cape and a white mask stated. "Kid can't dodge him forever."
Another character, a long-haired, lethargic man spoke. "Well, if you think he's going to win, I think Alfred's going to beat him!"
"Don't just go against me for the sake of opposing me! Ivan's in Challenge Mode; if Berwald didn't last twenty seconds, then Alfred is going to cry bloody tears of pain when he leaves the arena!"
"I believe in Al, he's number one. Berwald is number four." This angered Berwald slightly, but it was the truth. Maybe he really did stand no chance against the American fighter. Anger boiled inside of him. He would have to work even harder if he were to remain in favor.
"Well, I think that neither of them are going to win!" French fighter Francis Bonnefoy tossed his shoulder-length blonde curls. A mage with thick eyebrows rolled his eyes.
"How is that even possible? There are no ties! It's win or lose!"
"True, Arthur, but the player can always withdraw—"
"Then Ivan wins, you bloody idiot! God, you're a default character and you barely know how to play the game!" Francis scoffed; Berwald decided to tune out the boisterous conversation around him and focus on the battle. Alfred was very close to achieving a combo attack, but his fists flailed around pathetically as Ivan circled him, attempting to cast a spine-shattering blow. A blue meter rose and rose . . . could it be? Alfred immediately launched forward; his legs struck Ivan's gentle face in rapid-fire action. A jab and a final punch sent thick, towering Ivan to the floor.
"K.O." The characters that gathered around the screen cheered, though those who supported Ivan groaned a little. This victory would give Alfred his highest score yet. He smiled and punched the air as "Congratulations, Player One" flashed across the screen. On the adjacent screen, the brunette, acne-ridden teenager cheered. Surely, his friends would be impressed with this fight. Berwald sighed. His chance to prove himself favorable vanished, which left a pit in his stomach. At least he'd still be chosen as Alfred's opponent.
Usually, the announcement to return to the Selection Stage would sound, and all of the fighters would gather in the required room. The time outside of their surface was three-forty, meaning that the player might save and quit. But no announcement of the sort came, and instead, everyone stared at the screen, which was now pitch black.
A female voice immediately told what was happening. "New Player Unlocked—Tino Väinämöinen. Country—Finland, Weapon—None, Special Attack—Finnish Fury, Favorite Food—Salmiakki."
(A/N: The game in this story isn't my idea. This story was inspired by this trailer: /lRHdNhBYQy4. The trailer is fan-made, which makes me mad because I wish this was a real game.)