❝O, Romano, Romano! Wherefore Art Thou Romano?❞

「 ACT 1, SCENE 5 」

Devil May Cry

"And thus I clothe my naked villainy
With old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ;
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil."
—William Shakespeare, Richard III

Bloody red eyes peered through half-lidded, angry eyelids, long locks of white hair flowing freely in front of her face. Her attire consisted of something that was purely and obnoxiously ostentatious: a satin red headband tied neatly in a giant bow, a spunky black shirt with "Teufel" across the bosom in glittery crimson lettering, a puffed-out skirt that was pulled up over her stomach and barely swept above her knees, five-inch red high heels that could have killed on contact, black- and white-striped leg warmers with similar glittery lettering as her shirt, and a plethora of silver jewelry that clanged against each other in a form of a discordant rhythm. Everything about her screamed of a particularly flamboyant red shade, even her rubicund face, shining with gloriously embarrassing scarlet.

"Why do you guys always drag me into all this shit?" the girl asked angrily through clenched teeth, glaring specifically at the two men in front of her. One was a burly young man with smooth blonde locks in the usual militaristic fashion and piercing blue eyes that were both evenly gentle yet intimidatingly scary. His posture was slightly slumped, and his expression was completely and utterly flustered—a huge contrast to his tough-looking mien. The other was slightly shorter and resembled the girl in possibly every way possible, from the color of his hair to their eyes right down to the color of their cheeks. However, unlike the girl, the identical-looking man seemed to be slightly amused at the humorous visage of the girl, chuckling inaudibly and uncontrollably.

The blonde softly said, "I am sorry, schwester… But Feliciano…"

"Oh," she interrupted suddenly, curtly. "Don't you dare start with that! Start wearing the fucking pants in the relationship for once, now, will you, dear Ludwig?" The blonde man, whose name was apparently Ludwig, got startled by the sudden scolding from his younger sister and slowly walked backwards, awkwardly stuffing his quivering hands in his pockets. All the while, the other man was in hysterics, his boisterous laughter ringing all throughout the organizational vacancies of the house.

"Yeah, dear bruder," the other man sang in a mocking tone. "Take off that skirt and put on some pants. Be a man! Mein Gott!"

All of a sudden, the girl shot the white-haired albino man a cold, menacing glare, causing said albino to cower backwards—right behind the tall blonde wall of muscles. The two continued to shiver from the thought of the girl eating them alive, and the girl just continued to scold them like a mother would; and, apparently, that was fiercely, with a hint of nagging.

"You shouldn't be talking, Gilbert," the girl deadpanned angrily, referring to the quivering albino. "What about your relationships with that Hungarian? That Austrian? That sweet, little Canadian? You were as much of a girl in those relationships as Ludwig is with Feli!"

"W-was not!" denied Gilbert, his mouth completely open in an act of protest. By now, he had pushed his way out from behind his wall of perpetual safety and stomped towards the girl in fervent defiance, his face puffed red. "I'm the one who had to initiate everything! Lizzy was too secretly obsessed with Roderich to do start anything with me! Roderich was too un-gay and prideful! Mattie… he was too shy and sweet, and…" He sighed, and the girl sighed, and the brawny blonde sighed, all at once, in perfect harmony that would never be repeated ever again.

"Okay, look, I'm sorry about what happened with Mattie, but really, stop butting yourself in all our conversations." The girl's expression softened, albeit only slightly, and she resumed to her matriarchal scolding. "Now, Ludwig, I know you love Feli and would do anything for him, but have some independence in yourself."

Ludwig nodded, his face still flushed.

"Anyway, as much as I like helping people out…" She nodded her head. "Well, it's practically my job and all… But, really, why exactly do you want me to dress up as your 'sister' again?"

The blonde shrugged, biting the bottom of his lip in the most tentative manner possible. "I'm not exactly sure, schwester… Feli asked me for a favor, and naturally, I just accepted. All I am aware of is that it has something to do with Romano, and—"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Her legs suddenly turned into gelatin, and it looked like she would topple over any minute now. Even from her horribly construed face, one could see that the girl was having a mental breakdown within herself, her expression a mixture of every emotion out there. "Okay, look, I know Romano's a great guy and all, but I can't keep helping you guys organize his life. It's not my job. And plus, he hates me. He'll know it's me, even in this stupid getup, from a mile away."

"Who's this Romano kid anyway?" Gilbert enquired all of a sudden. "He sounds like one popular pimp, if you ask me."

The girl rolled her eyes, picking at a stray lock of snow white hair that made its way towards her face, pestering her with annoying tickles. "I guess he is, in a way… He's this really rude guy, older brother of Ludwig's boyfriend, curses a lot…"

"He sounds cool," said Gilbert with sheer nonchalance, his red eyes scanning the entirety of the room with precise motions. "I'd like to meet this kid for myself. I mean, I don't usually say this, but from the sounds of it, he could be just about as awesome as me!"

"Oh, you'll meet him, and then you'll see just how awesome he'll be to you," the girl said with sarcasm dripping off of her every word—painfully slow but covered in a myriad of it. "But right now, I need to go and meet up with that bastard for our 'date'." She ripped off the wig and her red contacts and threw them down on the floor, stomping on them without so much as batting an eyelash (well, actually she did, but only to rejuvenate her eyes after ripping out her contacts, which wasn't the smartest thing to do exactly…). Then, with one swift motion at the turn of the heel, she trudged off out of the door, leaving a fretful Ludwig and a smirking Gilbert behind.

Ludwig pulled a despondent face and looked down, mumbling to himself, "But… schwester… Feliciano… I told him I would…"

"Forget about her, West," Gilbert sneered happily, his nostrils flaring fervently. He quickly snatched the wig off of the ground and toyed with it, a ghost of a smirk on his thin lips. "I'm not one to crossdress, but I think I can make do."

Gilbert grinned, winking. Ludwig paled, shuddering. The latter wasn't exactly sure if he liked the image of his older brother in a short skirt… high heels… a revealing top…

Eww... dass böse ist...

• ❈ •

Never in his life had Romano felt such anxiety, and about meeting a stranger, nonetheless! The petulant (though, currently, somewhat placid) Italian had never heard of the brawny blonde German man's enigmatic sister before, but what were the chances that a perfect ploy for the destruction of Antonio's jealousy game was to arrive at such a time like this, as if she was practically giving herself to Romano without even a second's hesitation? Of course, Romano had no clue as to what the girl's personality would be like, or even what the girl looked like. For all he knew, this mysterious female figure could possibly just be the macho German bastard, the only difference being that the girl lacked male reproductive organ (Actually, they both do, Romano said to himself, his lips forming into a small smile of amusement). Either way, whatever the girl may act or look like, Romano was sure that he would be able to somehow woo her with his elegant Italian demeanor and brag about it in front of that blasted Spaniard. And then, revenge would be accomplished, and the Italian could live (somewhat peacefully) once again.

Of course, when the Vargas brothers arrived at the German's house, they were met with the traumatizing surprise of Ludwig's "sister," whom of which was obviously a grown man in a rather revealing outfit that made Romano spontaneously regurgitate in his mouth multiple times. The least the man could have done was shave his disgustingly hairy legs if he wanted to fool them with this effeminate visage; though they were constantly referred to as stupid men who lacked the ability to read the atmosphere, they weren't dense enough to not realize that a man is a man—even in such glittery clothing!

"That's revolting, crossdressing bastard," Romano stated bluntly, his tongue subconsciously sticking out precariously. Feliciano slowly crept up behind his older brother and flashed the albino an empathetic expression, a myriad of gentle amber eyes and a soft smile. Of course, said albino didn't seem to mind at all; rather, from his amused face, it seemed that he couldn't care less and was very much entertained with the crude Italian's wanton personality.

"Danke, Romano, I'm assuming?" He grinned at the look of surprised confusion on the Italian's face (as well as the fact that, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the other Italian brother sneak away and steal an initiative kiss from his brother, to which his dear old bruder responded by awkwardly wrapping his arms around the tiny waist of the sentimental Italian; oh, his bruder was impossible!). Romano's eyes narrowed substantially from a plethora of suspicions nagging at his head, and the albino just smirked, his exaggerated movements making Romano even more uncomfortable.

"Lucky guess," Romano deadpanned. All the while, his eyes were widening from the fact that the albino was slowly trudging towards him, his movements nerving and scary. It felt as if the albino was a barbaric animal stalking its prey, and unfortunate for him, Romano was said prey; and, in a short moment, when the gap between them was almost barely closed off, it looked as if the disgusting crossdressing, bastardous lion was about to pounce and attack with raging vigor, the fire burning in his eyes fervent and hot and red.

Romano, slightly paralyzed and confused, just gulped and awaited the advance of the savage predator, mentally swearing to himself was going to kill the lovey-dovey and oblivious couple right in front of them, whom of which were currently making out with stentorian noises of slurping and sucking. Fuck.

• ❈ •

Ding!

Antonio's head immediately turned towards the door, and he smiled when he saw the girlish figure of the blonde Belgian woman walk gracefully inside the restaurant. "Emma! I'm so glad you were able to make it!"

She scowled, taking a seat adjacent to the Spaniard in the utmost haughty manner, her nose in the air with pompous scorn. "Shut the fuck up, bastard. What do you want anyway? You do realize that I'm a very busy woman nowadays, and I really don't have time to waste anymore." Her green eyes glared into another pair of the same colored eyes, her shoulders raised with rage. "Well?" she encouraged angrily, impatiently. "Go on. I haven't gotten all day, you know."

"Lo siento, mi amor. It's about Romano, and—"

"Of course, as always."

"—and, well… I was talking to mi hermano Francis a little earlier, and he told me I should give up on this 'jealousy act'."

Emma smiled, but it was but a brief flash of teeth, and she immediately returned to her petulant expression. "Francis is a wise man, Toni. You could learn a thing or two from him."

"Then how should I go about getting mi querido Lovi?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's just not that into you." Emma shrugged. Antonio pouted.

"But… But—! Emma, you how much I love—"

"Okay, okay," Emma interrupted gravely, deep and irritated sighs repetitively escaping the crevice of her glossy pink lips like a plethora of condemned souls escaping from the burning depths of hell. "I get it! You adore this kid! You're madly, truly, deeply in love with him!" She snarled. "But, listen here Antonio; you can't play God with love. If he doesn't like you, then so be it. You can't force someone to love you. I seriously don't know how many times I've had to say this to you, bastard."

"You're just saying that because…" He trailed off and pursed his lips, nodding his head as if to rid his thoughts of everything he was about to throw at the fragile Belgian lady. He took in a deep breath as to help regain his placid composure, crossing his legs over one another in an act of restraint. "I… How has your day been?"

Typical Antonio, always trying to change the subject when it comes to… "Well, my older brother's come to visit."

"Oh!" came Antonio's ebullient ejaculation, his dismal expression illuminating with newfound excitement. "Mi mejor amigo Gilbo? How has he been? I haven't talked to him in forever…"

"Fine. Still a little cuckoo." She frowned. "He seems a little emotionally unstable right now."

Antonio screwed up his face in confusion, his arms fidgety and clammy. "Oh, why? Isn't he happy with su pequeña de Canadá?"

"They broke up a long time ago, Toni," Emma said in a matter-of-fact manner as she carefully placed a lone hand under her chin for support, her other hand drumming atop the table. Antonio looked wearily at her. "He seems interested in Romano."

"Oh, that's—" Antonio blinked stupidly. "Esperar… what?"

"He told me, and I quote, 'I usually don't say this, but …something something something… he sounds just as awesome as me!' Or some egotistical shit like that." She was using her fingers to indicate quotation marks all the while, and the Spaniard gawked at her worriedly. Emma just sighed, passively waving a hand as to reassure her fretful Spanish friend. "Don't worry. I know you bastardous trio got your name from… that… but Ludwig and Feli are there, too, so—"

"Wait! ¡Dios mío! Mi querido Lovi is with Gilbo right now?"

"Uhh…" She looked at the Spaniard awkwardly, whose face was so scarlet that it looked as if he would explode any minute now.

He reiterated slowly, carefully, through gritted teeth. "My precious Lovi is with a post-breakup Gilbo right now?"

"Err, yes, I think so, but—"

"Mierda," the angry Spaniard cursed vehemently as he ran with the quickness and stealth of a leopard out of the restaurant, leaving the indifferent little Belgian lady back at the table. She toyed with her manicured nails nonchalantly, tracing the small patterns of elegant letters (each fingernail having a letter that spelled out the word "devil") childishly. Then, all of a sudden, a sporadic wave of depression hit her—and it hit her hard, the line of her lips dissipating into a slightly open frown that seethed of morose whimpers, her fluttering eyelashes graced with clear dews of tears. She clutched at her black shirt as if in pain. And, she was in pain—perpetual, clandestine, unbearable wounds that have been present for nineteen years straight.

There are still no scars.

I don't like this chapter much, but at least Gilbert finally makes his appearance, I guess. Pfft, run, Antonio, run! XD

Anyway, I'll be making a Halloween extra. It somewhat pertains to the plot, but I can't say it's part of the plot because the current time for this isn't even near October. Hopefully I'll be able to finish it in time for Halloween. That's my main goal right now. I mean, I know I should work on the sixth chapter… and homework, shh… but I really want to write something about Halloween and Hetalia. Also, I have the perfect plot already. All I'm saying is this: crossdressing, swans, Oktoberfest, Carnevale, and Ireland. ;P

Also, I'd like to thank all of my supporters/readers! I truly hope you enjoy and keep supporting this story until the end!