Introduction:
Hello! Thanks for stopping in to read. Typically my notes will be at the end of each chapter, but I thought I'd take the time to introduce this fic properly.
This is fic is VERY AU. It's a post apocalyptic world where the countries don't exist as such, but rather live as 'clans'. So, Clan Italy, Clan Japan, etc etc. If you're familiar with the Fallout series of games, this is somewhat similar (but not exact, it's just an easy 'cheat sheet' for what the world is like). I'm not taking the plot from the games or anything (not precisely). Human names will primarily be used, but not exclusively.
I have NO clue if there will be actual pairings in this fic or not yet, so time (and comments in reviews!) will likely tell. Anyhow, hope you enjoy!
He really should have been worried. If he'd had a sensible bone in his body, a shred of common sense in that head of his, he would have been full on panicking. It would have been completely justified, to panic over this. However, as the youth finished chewing and took another blissful swallow of his food, worry and panic were far far from his mind. Even the fact that he was eating pasta, his clan's traditional food so rarely ever served, was a massive warning.
Pasta was only served on the most important of occasions, to the most deserving of individuals. Resources were far too scarce in their underground sanctuary, such luxuries as this had been rationed out carefully over the years. To dine on pasta… it should have set bells off in his mind. He'd never been given pasta before, and though his mind was dimly aware that he never wanted to eat anything else ever again, it failed to grasp just how important this day was.
No, as he twined some more pasta onto his fork, eyes closed in sheer happiness, Feliciano Vargas was anything but concerned about his imminent future.
"You should be sending somebody else damn it! What the hell are you all thinking huh? You idiots! Bastards!"
Ah, even in his pasta heaven haze, Feliciano recognized that voice, how could he not? It was the voice of his twin, Lovino of course. Feliciano couldn't quite figure out what exactly had set his twin off today, but it wasn't exactly a rare occurrence. Lovino was temperamental, to put it lightly, and he didn't seem to care just who it was in the clan, he was always ready and willing to mouth off at others.
Feliciano let out a tiny little 've' before returning to the eating of his pasta. He was alone in the dining hall, having been told to come down for a special meal. The dining hall was truthfully pretty tiny, but such was the way of all of the rooms in their sanctuary. You couldn't expect spacious halls and corridors in what was, essentially, an underground bunker. While those of Clan Italy had certainly turned their refuge into a work of art, you could see by the way pipes were breaking and leaking, at the way generators and machines were beginning to rust and fail, that they'd not been the most prudent of people when planning to wait out the apocalypse. One look would tell you that painting and decorating their new home had meant more to them then setting out to responsibly ration out resources.
Oh they'd sobered up quickly, it wasn't as though they weren't a strong people. They weren't nearly as foolish some of the other clans thought either. So while yes, perhaps they'd had a bad start of it all, the clan had survived thus far, hadn't succumbed like so many other clans had. Clan Italy was still alive… and they'd made it. They'd made it to the appointed day. The day where, according to the calculations made before the global disaster, it would be safe to send people back up to the surface. The day where they would send up their representative… who would unite with their allies and make The Journey.
Yes, today was THE day, and Feliciano was THE representative… even if his head didn't seem to realize this.
"Ah, but Lovino, you know he's the one most suitable…"
"Don't make me laugh! You all just picked him because you know he can't do anything down here!"
Perhaps if Feliciano wasn't so busy eating his pasta, he might have taken great offense at this. Even if, well, it was sort of true. He pretty much was a failure at all of the jobs they'd given to him in his young life. He was terrible at trying to repair the generators that gave their underground home fuel and fresh air, he wasn't fit to teach or provide any sort of medical services, and he wasn't allowed in the kitchens because he always complained about the terrible ration food that they had to eat. The best he could do was clean, and many a lonely day had passed with him, a push broom, and an apron.
"But he has the power! He has The Quality, so it must be him. He was tested, it was confirmed!"
There was some rather colorful swearing from his twin in their Clan's native Italian, rather than the muddy global tongue, and it caused Feliciano to raise his eyebrows slightly. It was actually beginning to dawn on him that maybe something was going on today.
You would have thought the travel backpack filled to bursting and situated at his feet would have clued him in.
Metal doors slid open with a loud hiss and plumes of protesting steam, the clan elder striding in with a very angry Lovino at his side. His brother was still grumbling away, but the aged elder with his perpetually crooked back paid him no mind. He only approached Feliciano with a fatherly smile, looking to the virtually empty pasta plate.
"Have you had your fill, Feliciano?" His voice was kind, almost warm, and you could tell that even if Feliciano was pretty useless, he was still well loved.
"I could eat pasta all day~" He crooned out happily, a bright and cheerful smile on his face, optimism and joy radiating off of him easily, naturally, and genuinely. Feliciano was like a small ray of sunshine for those of the clan, a shining presence that, yes, was high maintenance, but was wonderfully cheerful even though times were unrelentingly tough. His optimism, naivety, hell, even the paintings he did so infrequently were sure to bring a smile to your face. He was the odd man out in their refuge of rusting steel and riveted plates. The odd man out, but a jewel all the same.
"I'm pleased, Feliciano… I'm very happy your last meal with us was to your liking."
"Yeah!" Feliciano chirped out, before his brows pulled together, a deep closed eye frown stealing over his face. "Ve~? Last?" Well, at least he had the sense to be concerned over, quite possibly, never eating again. The elder cleared his throat, and Lovino crossed his arms in agitation.
"We told you this Feliciano… remember? Today… today you go to the surface. You're meeting our allies, Clan Germany and Clan Japan… and with them you're going on The Journey…"
"Eeehhhhh?!" The youth with the auburn hair startled out of his seat, pasta dish clattering about on the table and fork hitting the floor as he started to panic. You could all but see the tears beginning to collect at the corners of his closed eyes, a trembling going through his body. "Leaving? But but it's not s-safe up there! W-why am I being sent up there? I'll be good I promise please don't make meeee!" He was about to rush forward and cling to the elder when the man cleared his throat, shaking his head.
"Feliciano! We have discussed this…"
"But but… Lovinoooo?" He turned to look to his brother for help, and the other let out a snort of annoyance.
"I did what I could… see this is why I told you to let me cheat your test results!"
The elder shot the marginally older Vargas a glance, but there was nothing for it. More members of the clan were entering the dining hall, in a 'hey we're here to walk you to the exit' sort of manner. Feliciano wailed, and one of the stronger men ended up picking him up by the collar, like a stray cat. His cries of protest were met with deaf ears, and his backpack was carted right up behind him.
The massive doors that led to the exit chamber began to rumble and slide open at the elder's entering of the code, and the twins were given one last moment together. Feliciano actually clung to his brother, which inwardly pleased Lovino even if he made a giant fuss over what a hassle and a cry baby the other was. However, beneath the clinging and the complaining, the two were trying to comfort each other. There were tiny pets, miniscule caresses, and whispered words here and there of affection.
Never had the twins been parted, and they'd never thought it'd be over something like this! It was highly likely, so very likely, that Feliciano would fail… that he would never be returning. No one had seen the surface of the world in over a hundred years. All people had were old photographs, maps out of date, and computer files filled with instructions and data. Feliciano would be one of the very first people setting his eyes on the actual sky since the global disaster that'd sent all of humanity underground. It was an honor… but it was dangerous. Oh so dangerous.
What if things had survived up there? What in the world would they be like now?
Feliciano could only hope 'hungry for Italian' wasn't it.
"It is time, Feliciano… take your pack, and travel north… unless they have fallen over the years, the representatives of Germany and Japan will be waiting for you…"
Feliciano let his arms hug more tightly to his brother, burrowing his face into the warm neck of the other, sobbing and hiccupping in fear. Arms circled to hold him tightly, and for a minute the younger twin thought his brother might… just might… pipe up and offer to go with him. Instead the arms let go, and grumbling to hide his embarrassment over his cowardice, Lovino stepped away. He looked absolutely miserable, but not any more so than his all-but-banished twin. Feliciano could only stand in the exit chamber, alone, staring at his clan and his brother standing back in the sanctuary.
"We shall eagerly await your return, Feliciano Vargas! May The Journey be a success for you… may you bring back to us the promised resources… bring back to us the strength to move to the surface once more! Bring to us the Key to the Surface!"
There was a supporting cry from the rest of the clan gathered behind the elder, and though it was meant to be encouraging it only served to hammer in the nails of despair. One last pleading look was sent to Lovino, who actually took a guilty step forward, before he was dragged back into the crowd. More than likely… should Feliciano seem to fail, his twin would be offered up as a substitute later.
The giant metal doors began to slide shut, and were his feet not suddenly made of lead, Feliciano would have sprinted to get back inside. Instead he quivered and shook and wailed and cried out various pleas to be let back in. He was only met with encouraging waves until the door shut, heavy grinding noises and high pitched scratching giving him an answer. The door to the sanctuary of Clan Italy sealed shut, and with much trepidation Feliciano turned to face the true exit door. It shuddered and groaned, and with a squeak Feliciano dropped to his knees, trying to hide from the outside world behind his backpack.
A great plume of dirt and dust rushed in, along with a breeze that smelled like nothing Feliciano had ever experienced before. He coughed roughly, covering his nose and mouth and believing he was about to die. The air… what if it still wasn't safe? He held his breath in a panic, eyes screwed tightly shut as the sounds of the door opening died away. There was a hollow rushing sound in his ears now, the music of the wind rushing over the wastelands. It wasn't until his lungs were burning did he open his eyes as he brought in a gasping breath. He waited one second… two… three. There was no burning in his lungs, and aside from a quick couple of sneezes, it didn't seem as though he was about to die.
Rising up on his knees, yet still behind his backpack, Feliciano opened his eyes and stared out at the world beyond. His lips parted slightly, and the vast unending sky cut off his thoughts and his breath. He gazed out in utter and absolute awe at the sight before him. The pictures… the pictures couldn't do this justice. The pictures… they couldn't even compare to the real thing.
"Ve~…" Distracted from his fear temporarily, Feliciano finally picked up his backpack, dragging it at his side as he cautiously made his way out, taking his first steps ever out onto rock and earth and stone. He looked at his feet when he heard the crunching sounds they made on this new substance, and he crouched down to poke at it and pick up a few stones, giving them experimental tosses out into the wasteland. The sun was high in the sky, noontime it seemed, and though the air was warm the wind was cold.
Flecks of dirt kept flying up to meet his eyes, a new experience for one raised in an environment of recycled and sterilized air. He brought his hands up to rub at the way it stung his eyes, letting out a small unhappy whine before casting a glance down at his pack. Sure enough, there was a pair of goggles there, and he wasted no time in pulling them from the pack and onto his face. Blinking behind the protective plastic lenses, he let out a sigh, looking around at the outside world again.
It was so noisy with the sound of the wind, yet it felt silent and empty and horrifically quiet as well. For a social person like Feliciano, it was as if he'd just become deaf. He turned, wanting to rush in and pound on the inner doors, only to see the outer door sliding shut, sealing Clan Italy away from the world again. Away from him. He couldn't help but, predictably, slink to his knees and hug to the backpack.
"Whaa… I don't want to be up here… somebody help me! Save meee~!"
Sadly, no one would be coming for him.
After much sniveling and sniffing and whining and crying, the Vargas boy finally rose to his feet, hitching his backpack up onto his shoulders. He stared dismally out into the distance, before pulling a compass out of the pockets of the uniform he was wearing. Maybe THAT should have tipped him off this morning as well, that a uniform had been set out for him to wear, not his normal clothes. The blue pants and jacket were worn over a black shirt and even a tie, though it was out of place on the survival uniform. Ah well… fashion be damned, Feliciano was more worried that he wasn't going to be around much longer.
Dejected feet carried him north, and every falling stone and broken twig made him jump and tremble violently as he made his silent way onward. Mostly the terrain was made up of mountains of dirt and rocks, a tenacious shrub or weed fighting its way from the earth here and there. Also sparsely scattered about, he spied what looked like the remains of old pipes and steel girders. The ruins of buildings fallen long ago, their skeletons and husks scattered about the earth as if they'd been as flimsy as paper. It was a sobering sight that seemed to sap just a bit of the Italian's strength to keep walking minute by minute.
Still… Feliciano continued to walk on… because really… what else could he do? At least if he kept going north (and his compass thankfully kept him on the right path), there was a chance of meeting people. Other representatives just like him, tossed out into the surface world and… and… and…
What was The Journey again? The Italian youth couldn't rightfully remember, not having paid any attention in school or, obviously, when he'd been informed he'd be going on this quest. Perhaps his clan really was doomed.
It was starting to get very dark, and very cold, before Feliciano finally saw it. In the distance he saw what looked like tents, and standing proudly at those tents, blowing and swaying in the chill winds, were two flags. One sported bold horizontal bars of black, red and gold, the other a stark white canvas with a round red circle at the center. The youth perked up immediately, for he knew those flags… they were the flags of his allies! His heart took a leap of joy, and his feet began to race forward, hurtling him over rocks and debris towards the camp site. He was nearly there when suddenly a gruff voice called out at him.
"Halt! Stop where you are and identify yourself!"
Feliciano nearly fell on his rear in his haste to stop, staring with fearfully shut eyes at the barrel of a gun pointed right at him. He trembled and let out whimpers, scuttling backwards.
"I said halt!" The deep booming voice commanded again, filled with authority and deadly warning. Feliciano didn't even have the presence of mind to look to the left of the man with the gun (hell, he couldn't really even see anything but the long rifle right now!), but if he had he would have seen a dark haired man edging slightly closer, hand held to a sword at his side.
Feliciano flipped, scrambling at his pack and swiftly pulling out a flag. With wild desperation he started to wave it frantically back and forth in front of him. If only it'd been the Italian flag with its vertical bars of green, white and red, he might have soothed the situation sooner. Instead, before his face he waved a flag of pure white, small and entirely of his own making. "Don't shoot don't shoot! I don't want to diiiieee… please please don't shoot me! I h-have relatives in your Clan! I can't die yet I'm a virgin!" His wails were met with a frustrated growl, but at the very least the gun didn't fire. Yet again, the deep authoritative voice barked out to his ears.
"Identify yourself then!"
"W-Whaaa! I'm… I'm Feliciano Vargas! I-I'm f-f-from C-Clan Italy!" He shivered and waved his flag just that much faster.
"Show us your colors!" The voice demanded, and Feliciano dropped his white flag to dig into his pack. Sure enough, folded inside, was his Clan's flag. He held it up swiftly, as if it were a shield he could hide behind. His knees wobbled as he waited for a response, his mind knowing full well cloth wouldn't stop bullets. He heard a clicking sound from the gun, and he let out a high pitched wail of despair. This was it… he was dead now… dead dead dead!
"We thought you weren't going to make it… come inside the camp."
"E-Eh?" Feliciano peeked over his flag, staring in awe. The man had lowered the gun, watching him for a moment before retreating back towards the camp fire. He hesitated for a moment longer before letting out a happy breath of air, quickly grabbing up his pack and trotting into the camp. The man with the gun motioned at a makeshift pole that'd been driven into the ground, and Feliciano was actually bright enough to figure out the request on this one. Carefully he set up his own flag, smiling in delight at the triangle the three banners of cloth created. It might have just been the fire… and no longer having a gun pointed at him, but he was feeling happier already.
He moved and took a seat on a rock near the fire, noticing that both the other men had already done the same. Feliciano took a moment to go ahead and take in their appearances.
The one who'd held the gun was a giant of a man (in Feliciano's eyes at any rate), tall and muscular and broad of shoulder. His face was severe, with pale skin and sharp blue eyes. Pale blond hair was cut short and slicked back on his head, all serious and ordered. He wore a blue-grey survival uniform as well, fitted perfectly and adorned with severe embellishments. He radiated an aura of business, of efficiency, yet there was something decidedly ruthless lurking inside, restrained by discipline yet there all the same.
The other man, the one with the strangely thin and curved blade, held almost no expression to his face, practiced and polite neutrality washing over his face and dark eyes. He had black hair, clipped short though longer than the blonde's. His survival uniform was white, a strange color to have out where it was so dirty, but Feliciano got the feeling that somehow the other man would manage to stay miraculously pristine. He was shorter than Felciano… yet he had a subtle strength that seemed purposely hidden away.
All in all, the youth from Clan Italy thought they seemed far more suited for this task than he was. "So…" he chanced, drawing their attention. "Uh… what are your names?" He tried to will his sunny personality back, giving them both a dreamy smile.
"I'm Ludwig, of Clan Germany," the blond answered succinctly.
"I am Honda Kiku, of Clan Japan. It is an honor to meet you, Vargas-san."
"Ve~?" Feliciano tilted his head to the side in confusion. "San?"
There was, possibly, a flash of discomfort on the face of the Japanese one, but it was carefully masked to an apology. "Ah, yes it is a sign of respect… an honorific…"
"Ooooh… you don't have to use that with me! Just call me Feliciano ve~!"
"Ah… of… of course… Feliciano… san…" The reluctance to comply was palpable, not that the Italian seemed to pick up on it. The blond, Ludwig, cleared his throat, fixing his gaze on the youth with the strange curl in his hair. Feliciano looked back with mild curiosity and not a lick of understanding.
"So… what is it?"
"Eh?"
"The power of Clan Italy, it would be best for us to understand what each of us contributes right away, so we can best plan for The Journey."
Feliciano furrowed his brows, mouth twisting down in utter confusion. Hadn't the elder been saying something about… something… special… or… something? He gave a confused little whine, almost just a befuddled puff of air, ignorance bubbling off of him and popping in the German's face. The blond and the black haired man turned to cast worried looks to each other. They hadn't been traveling together long, having only united the day before, but already they'd found each other to be trustworthy and capable. Was the third member of their party going to be the exception?
The representative of Clan Germany turned where he sat, facing the Italian representative more in full. His face looked very serious, but it was also clear he was trying to be patient. "When you were selected… what was The Quality that they said you had?"
Feliciano lifted his head, looking skywards, before giving a happy little shrug. "No clue! Do I have to have one?"
"W-Well…" Again Germany and Japan shared glances. "Yes."
"O… oh… oh! Maybe if you tell me yours, then I'll know mine?" Ludwig nodded in response, sitting up straighter (if that was actually possible).
"I was born with an innate knowledge and skill with tactics and survival. I can keep a clear head in any situation to figure out a way out of it. I also have a higher tolerance to pain than the average individual."
"Woooooow~ Ludwig is so cool!"
The blond seemed momentarily flustered by that, but quickly cleared his throat, looking to Kiku. The dark haired man brought a graceful hand to his sword, eyes fixed with a smoldering intensity on Feliciano.
"My blade is able to slice through even metal when in my hands… and I… have some small skill in the production and crafting of machines…" There was heavy modesty being placed over the words, but Feliciano was still duly impressed.
"Kiku is soooo cool too!" He piped up, to the slight reddening of the other man's cheeks. There was an awkward silence before Ludwig found his voice again.
"So… Feliciano… has that helped you to realize your Quality?"
Tilting his head to the side, Feliciano thought long and hard, a taxing exercise for his brain indeed. A thoughtful hum radiated through his throat, one hand even coming up to hold onto his chin as he tried to think of some quality he possessed that would be helpful and wonderful and cool like Ludwig and Kiku. Sadly, no such thing seemed to spring to mind, and with a defeated sag of the shoulders, he shook his head.
"Nope… I don't have anything like that."
There was a pause, before Kiku very hesitantly spoke up again, hand covering his lips as if to shield the world from his potentially disrespectful statement.
"You are… certain you were the… right representative?"
"The elder said so…" Feliciano breathed out sadly. The conversation died once again, only the sounds of the crackling fire and the surrounding winds breaking the silence. Ludwig gave a slap to his thigh, however, snapping them all out of their less than optimistic thoughts.
"Well, the elder must have had a good reason to hide The Quality, but that doesn't mean you don't have one! We'll still press on, and if I must train you until your talent shines through I will!"
Kiku gave a resolute nod, where Feliciano, in all his happiness, let out a shout of joy and tossed himself at Ludwig, all but knocking the man over with a hug. As the blond struggled to push him off and away, all Feliciano could think was how happy he was that he wasn't being thrown away immediately as useless. Even when he was pushed back to his own seat, the happy smile didn't leave his face.
Author's Notes:
And there we have it, chapter 1 done. I don't honestly know how many people will be interested in a story like this, with its decided lack of history and such, but I'm havin' a ball writing it so that's all that matters I suppose!
For those wondering, we shall most certainly be seeing more of the 'world' in later chapters. America, England, France, China and Russia shall show up soon enough, and Canada, the awesome of Prussia, the return of Romano and the appearance of Spain shall also follow. Otherwise… eh, possibly Poland, Lithuania, Austria and Hungary.
Updates will happen as quickly as I can get to them, but don't expect a chapter every day, not even close! Reviews help keep my enthusiasm for writing up.