Kink meme Deanon.
Request:
Korea/China - On a mission
What it says on the tin.
It can be serious, it can be cracky- the "mission" in question can be anything. It can be AU for all I care.
Just. Korea and China have a mission, whatever it might be. And them being them, they will accomplish it no matter what it takes because it's, well, them.
Bonus: It's crack.
Bonus(2?): ...or it's drop dead serious and tear jerking that it makes me cry.
Warnings: Character death, Human/Nation names used interchangeably.
Pairings: N/A.
-[=]-
There was fire.
Yong Soo gazed at the communicator in his hands, face carefully blank. The silver, futuristic, and elegant design was lit up with burning red and scorching oranges, due to the hungry fire raging around him.
The fire that he had set, the fire that made the dismal place finally seem like the vengeful hell it was supposed to be.
A red clad figure (Yong Soo had insisted that it was too flashy, but as if he could dissuade him) laid in front of him, a body that appeared to be insignificant among the sea of others.
Red- a lively contrast to the dully metallic uniforms the other bodies wore, their black matching the putrid smoke that was rapidly filling the room.
["I'll hold them back, aru! You do your thing!"]
Crimson- the color matching the now dancing flames.
Yao.
["Stop staring, I'm okay! God damn it, Yong Soo- GO!"]
Fire was free, fire consumed. Yao was laid amongst the dancing fire, but it was only a grotesque parody of what-could-have-been. Fire was life but lifeless eyes, once filled with happy glows of joy and blazing pride, gazed up at him and Yong Soo fought down the urge to choke up. He looked away, closing his eyes to the fire, to the dead, dead, body, to the brown eyes that reflected the rich earth and the culture spiraling out to encompass the Chinese nation-
But not anymore.
Fire was life but there was no fire anymore. Fire was a blazing free path from hell, swatting whoever might get in its way- but there was no fire anymore.
Yong Soo fingered the dragon on the small, remote-like box, the engraved animal an elegant addition to the blueprints when Yao had been tasked with manufacturing the device. (His, incidentally, had a tiger engraved on it.) The grooves and dug in edges he felt were reassuring against the sleek metal, though the signature coolness of it was now diffused with the amount of times he had turned it over and over in his hands.
Dragon. Dragons breathed Fire. Fire was Orange-yellow-red.
Yao was wearing red. Yao was the Dragon.
Fire was Yao.
He opened his eyes at that thought as he flipped the communicator over again and thumbed the button on the front of the device, hesitating a bit before he took the jump and pressed it.
['I'll hold them back, aru! You do your thing!']
[Thump thump thump. Running. He had hoped that he wouldn't be late. He had really hoped that he wouldn't late.]
A screen popped up from the device and skillful hands manipulated the sensitive hologram expertly; he soon found himself on the message screen, tagging all the surviving nations. He bit his lip before composing his message, considering his situation.
There were guards outside the jammed doors and would shoot on sight. There were no windows, and the air vent was too high up to get to (Not that it would even support his weight.) There was one hallway, but that's where Yong Soo had come from, following the mission outline- set fire to the center of the facility- and there was no way he could go amongst the red-orange-yellow.
He wanted to get Yao's body out of the room at least, but that seemed impossible.
[He had been too late.]
He thumbed his own communicator in his pocket, the one with the tiger (Fierce tiger, tiger-fire) on it, the one that was processing and sending the information on the microchip it encased. Yong Soo just hoped that it would send the information on time, and he hoped the other nations left could make heads or tails of it (Because while Yong Soo himself could do it, he doubted he was going to make it out here alive.) The screen on his read 91% and slowly crawled towards 92%. Yong Soo prayed to the gods that he had bought enough time.
[Jammed metal doors. So much blood from bullet wounds.]
["Hyung? Hyung?!"]
He looked at the near blank screen, the only thing on the screen the short list of names that compromised the nations still alive; the list started with Kiku Honda and ended with Feliks Łukasiewicz; the list was made of 5 names.
[Glazed eyes, gurgling voice coming out from a faint yet cocky smile.]
["You're late."]
He typed his message up quite quickly.
93%.
He wasn't sure why it felt so right.
["No! Hyung! Hyung! You said you'll be okay, daze! HYUNG! CHINA!"]
Maybe Yao had felt like this when he said for him to go. When Yao knew he would die.
["...You're late... aru. Korea... You….you have to live. It's a promise…. Live, and take that bastard down."]
Yong Soo hears the rampaging footfalls of many and harsh, barked orders- He knows his time is coming to an end when his lungs feel constricted and the smoke starts to layer down to his height. He can smell burning machinery everywhere and the heat is starting to lick at his feet.
Fire.
94%.
The door opened and the flames howled, their intricate dance disrupted with the new source of oxygen flowing in the room. The fire crackles madly and Yong Soo is magnificently silhouetted against the roaring red-orange monster.
[Damn, he knows his special effects, alright- he had watched too much of his own dramas.]
[He wants to see them again.]
Yong Soo hit send and pushed the button again, closing the screen. He put the device back in Yao's cold hand, placing the loose fist over the body's heart. He doesn't look around at the New World, the one (ironically), they called Pangaea.
Pangaea. Bringing the damn world together since 2106. Yong Soo's not sure how he came to be, but one thing he is sure of is that he's the bastard child of WWIII and an idiotic human's dream. Brainwashing other nations if he couldn't destroy them. He was cold. Pangea reminded Yong Soo of ice, cunning and underhanded.
But Yong Soo was fire.
Yao was fire.
He slowly lifted himself up from the crouch he was in, still refusing to look at the New World's face.
(And he imagines the bastard bloodied and screeching in pain as he stabbed him over and over again. He wished that Russia was here- he would have had so much fun.)
95%.
(But he was dead. Alfred had bombed him during the start of WWIII, when they hadn't known who the real enemy was.)
"Well. What do we have here? A bunch of dead bodies with pathetic Korea in the middle of it. And oh? Is that China?"
The way he says their names is mocking, but Yong Soo notices the undertone of pain and the way he is gasping for air. (Set fire to the center of the facility? Pangaea's heart? Bingo.) Yong Soo languidly turns around, a bright smile on his face as he clasps his fingers behind his back. Pangaea is clutching at his side and at his chest, and Yong Soo can't see all that well but he knows it must be bloody. Despite the injury his opponent has, however, he knows he cannot escape- because in this state, where he is barely hanging onto his personification as South Korea by a thread, the many guns pointed at him are enough to kill him.
96%.
Just like China.
He wonders how many of the gun holders know what's going on. He wonders how many of them are- were- Korean or Chinese citizens.
"Dude no, 'pathetic' did not originate from Korea, daze!"
Yong Soo scoffs, childish grin stuck on his face. The heat licks and extends its tongue at him but Yong Soo amusedly bats out the little devil when he finds that it had been devouring the fabric on his arms. From the corner of his eye, Pangaea winces in pain and Yong Soo smirks at the little victory.
97%.
"Shut up."
Pangaea says; Yong Soo rolls his eyes and flicks at his hair curl, a fake show of confidence because the face in it had long since disappeared. (Seoul, after all, had been bulldozed over long ago.) His grin widens- and he'd practiced it enough to know that it looks genuine. (And he remembers when the smile was real, not plastered on- when China and Japan and Hong Kong and everybody would just be together. Before all the WWI and WWII shit.)
(And maybe while he may have been exasperated most of the time and his twin had nearly screwed him over several times, the 21st century had been really fun too.)
(Really.)
Yong Soo is still sporting that shit-eating grin and Pangaea looks infuriated at the lack of tears. The lack of begging. Begging he had come to expect from mortals and maybe other nations.
Ha. As if.
Would he surrender?
(It was the only way he could live.)
98%.
No.
["You're late."]
God help him if he surrendered; Yong Soo was Korean and he was fire.
Fire. It ran in his veins and lashed with every beat of his heart.
["You….you have to live. It's a promise."]
Pangaea brings up his own gun somehow, the other hand trying to keep himself together.
Fire. Alive.
Yong Soo is still smiling that sickly sweet smile, brown eyes condescending and yet burning with fierce flames, one that had once burned in another's brown toiled soil of vast lands and culture.
Yong Soo remembers the dragon drawn on the silver surface.
Alive….
["Live… and take that bastard down."]
Pangaea growls an animalistic growl and Yong Soo cocks his head to the right.
The Dragon is Yao.
The Tiger is Yong Soo.
A finger tightens on the trigger.
They both are fire.
"Any last words?"
Pangaea grits out, eyes narrowed. Snake. Ice cold snake. Yong Soo doesn't care though, because Fire melts ice and there were plenty more Fire on the way.
Yong Soo's smile is a bit demented as he thinks about the others.
They are all fire, if you think about it.
All the nations, all of them.
Because They are blazing. Because They will fight. Because They will rage until the New World goes down.
Alive.
Yong Soo and Yao were only the start.
He laughs.
"You're late,"
He says, smiling serenely.
"You're... late."
100%.
Pangea growls and yells the command to shoot.
["You….you have to live. It's a promise."]
Sorry, Hyung.
[File sent. Self-Destruct activated.]
Don't kill me when I arrive up there, okay? And everyone…
Boom. Explosion. The whole place torn to pieces with the dynamite Yao and Yong Soo had rigged everywhere for the mission.
Everyone dead.
5 nations left against the New World, who would be resurrected later on.
Take the New World down for us, for me- for the world. Take that bastard…down.
5 nations….?
And the fire raged on.