Summary: Alfred, proud as hell to be in FIVER airforces and an aspiring rookie with great dreams. England, cynical Pirate rebel and a powerful sword artist with a mysterious past. In a world where chaos breaks and heroic ideals come to nought, what is it that you are fighting for? Fantasy AU.
Warning: T for language.
Disclaimer: We don't own anything. Not Hetalia Axis Powers (though we wished we did), and not the names of any airplanes. This work is purely non-commercial.
Chapter 1.
"Oi, rookie!" Someone yelled from behind him. Alfred paused and turned his head.
Click! Snap!
...Processing Data...
Name: Alfred F. Jones
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Appearance: Blond. Blue eyes. Tall. Wears glasses.
Interests: FIVERs, Becoming General, Saving the World
Dislikes: Traitors. Nothing else really. He loves the world.
"What is it?" Alfred hollered to the overweight man running up to him from the end of the long corridor. Alfred stared up at the ceiling, at the bright fluorescent lights, reflected by the pristine white walls around him and illuminated the place all the time. He couldn't really remember the man's name. Maybe Fred or Freddo or something like that. He works in the…engineering department?
Fred-something reached him, panting heavily. Taking an already soaked handkerchief, he wiped his forehead. "Man, it's hard to find someone in 'ere. This place is goddamn crazy big. Anyway, boss dude wants to see ya."
Alfred cocked his head, flashing the man a bright grin. "Which one?"
The man looked up at him. "Goddamn, I think it's da Intel one. What's his name again? Shit."
Alfred smiled. "Commander Ludwig."
"Yeah, that's him."
Taking long purposeful strides, Alfred took towards the office. The Headquarters always filled him with a sense of pride, from simply the fact that he belonged here. Here in these long metal corridors, in those plush leather offices and heavily armored arsenals.
This was the Headquarters of the FIVERs of Undine. Undine, the nation of dreams, where anything and everything was achievable. Ever since the war, Undine had become the most powerful of the nations, taking other nations as colonies. Alfred was exceedingly proud of being born here.
He was even prouder of being able to join FIVER, the Flight Initation Venture Engagement and Rescue forces, the elite of the nation's military and the dream careers of people from all around Undine. FIVERs were the cream of the crop, given utmost respect everywhere they went from both the civilians and the foot soldiers.
Alfred knew that as a rookie, he would likely to stuck doing menial jobs, along with his training. But once he reached his first year here…that would be when he would receive his first Aerofaire. He had seen those beautiful beasts around the Headquarters, mainly around the engineering areas. He had heard the whirr of the engines and felt the winds from the powerful wings. Once he got his own, all the sweat and the tears he had poured into this would all be worth it. Every last drop.
When he sat with other rookies for mess, there would always be talk about who would be next to receive his Aerofaire, and what model it would be. The better your performance in the training, the more modern your model would be. There were rumors among the rookies that there had once been a FIVER who was given the best Aerofaire ever made at the age of 14.
The FIVERs were generally an elitist bunch. Smart, capable people were always on the battlefront, given the glory and the rush of battle, while the wimps lingered with the foot soldiers at the backlines.
But Alfred was confident that he would do well. He was excelling in his trainings, his scores were amongst the highest in his batch, and he always respected his superiors. Yes, he would make it. He would reach his dream, to become the General of the forces, and become a hero amongst the eyes of many.
This was what Alfred was thinking as he reached Commander Ludwig's office and knocked sharply on the door.
"Come in," a calm, gravelly voice came from inside. Alfred cautiously pushed open the door.
The office was essentially a meeting room, with a large central table, and several chairs. Monitors sat cluttered all over the area with thick instruction manuals placed next to each one. On a leather chair in the center of the room, glaring at several monitors at one time, was the head of the Intelligence Gathering (INTEL) department, Commander Ludwig Beilschmidt. Behind him was his Subcommander, Captain Feliciano Vargas who was peeking over Ludwig's shoulder at one of the smaller monitors.
There were five other people in the room, two of which Alfred recognized as rookies from his cabin bunk. He had never seen the other three before, but judging from their uniforms, they were rookies too. Offering them a slight smile and a nod, he stood at attention, waiting to be addressed.
Commander Ludwig slammed his monitor down with a bang and sighed deeply. "You may sit. Since all of you are here, we might as well get started. This is a mission debrief. You will be going to Lerem, on the outer borders of Undine, for this mission—"
An excited buzzing broke out amongst the six trainees. Alfred could literally feel himself shaking with excitement. This would be his first mission out of the headquarters. Rookies, as a rule, got only menial jobs until their training ended and they were promoted to full members. For a rookie to receive a mission, especially one out of the headquarters, it was exceptionally rare.
Alfred had heard that rookies who performed exceptionally on missions could potentially be promoted early. This would be his chance.
"Quiet!" Commander Ludwig's yell broke through the din. The noise died down immediately as the trainees looked down at their feet ashamedly, decidedly guilty at having acted immature in front of a commander. Ludwig tapped impatiently at a screen and a hologram appeared on it, spreading itself out on the table to form a miniature city. "This is where—"
"Ve, this is Lerem! It's a seaside town with lots of really cool waterways," Feliciano interrupted, bouncing on the heels of his feet excitedly. "It's famous for its amazing food, like pasta! And lasagna!" The overly happy Subcommander gave an exaggerated wink. "It's awesome!"
Alfred watched amusedly as Commander Ludwig put his head into his hands and sighed. Before Feliciano could open his mouth and continue, he quickly pushed open another monitor and said, "Your mission is to gather information on a certain rebel group. They're known as the Pirates." Alfred's ears perked up.
"Aren't they the ones who raided another military camp along the Mios last week? The army stranded across that river was complaining about it, weren't they?" Alfred blurted out before looking down and blushing with embarrassment. What kind of rookie interrupted a commander when he was giving a mission debrief? Thankfully, Commander Ludwig didn't seem to pick up on it.
"Yes. We were initially unconcerned with the rebel forces because they were small and inactive, but recently, we have had reports that the rebels were getting braver in their attempts. Last week's raid is the last straw. The problem must be terminated."
"Ve, he's right. If they continue, the stability of our military could be undermined. That's not good," Feliciano stated with a wide smile. Then the smile faded slightly. "Though…the problems only started after he left…" the sub-commander almost whispered to himself.
Alfred stared at Sub-Commander Feliciano. He? Is he talking about that traitor?The one everyone knows but doesn't talk about...He didn't really know much about this case, but he had heard rumors that one of the best FIVERs in all of history, also known as the previous General, had abandoned the crew and disappeared a few years ago. Directly after he had been included in the gossip, Alfred had been taken into a corner and shushed, that if any word about this emanated from him, General Bonnefoy would throw a fit. It was said that that the FIVER had been one of the current General's closest friends.
Commander Ludwig glared pointedly at his brown haired subordinate before clearing his throat. He tapped another screen and a projected insignia appeared on the opposite wall. "This is their crest.
"The Pirates are the most prominent of the rebel forces. Information tells us that they are the one who prompt other smaller groups to act. In other words, they are the masterminds behind most of the raids that have occurred so far. We have had reports that sightings of them were most frequent around Lerem and Mios. Since they operate several ships and Lerem is closer to the sea, we suspect that Lerem may be the site of their headquarters," Ludwig continued. "We do not know much about them beyond that. Who's their leader? And who supplies them with weapons?"
"Yep yep! It's going to be your job to find out!" Feliciano concluded with a flourish and a grin.
"Uh, sirs…" One of the trainees whom Alfred didn't know ventured nervously. "If we see the Pirates' headquarters, why don't we just destroy it?" Alfred wanted to smack his foreheaed. Even he could tell that this was an unnecessary question.
Commander Ludwig shot a piercing glare at the trainee while Feliciano giggled. The rookie melted in his boots. Enunciating each word clearly, Ludwig said, "You do notengage in combat with them." He swept his glare across the room, making the rookies shift uneasily. "Even if it is only a few grunts. You do not even let them know that you are there. Sources tell us that their leaders are incredibly strong, and if any of them happens to be nearby while you make yourself known or cause trouble, that will be the end of the line for you.
"Therefore, your mission is simple. Get your asses there, gather any information you can from observation or from civilians. Be as discreet as possible or you'll all be dead. Is that clear?"
"Crystal, sir," came the voices of six rookies around the room.
"Good. For this mission, Cadet Alfred F. Jones will be acting as squad captain. You will report to him and follow his instructions. Cadet Jones, you report directly to me. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir." The voices came again in unison, but one was slightly louder than the others.
"Then you are dismissed for now. Report back to this office at exactly 5.40pm later in the afternoon. Feliciano will brief you on the details of your mission."
"Yes, sir!"
5 o' clock found the six trainees sitting around a table outside Feliciano's office.
Alfred couldn't keep his butt on his seat. He wanted to sing. He wanted to dance. He needed to tell the whole world just how amazing he was. To be selected to go on a Recon mission only a few months after he joined FIVER, and to be chosen as squad captain! This really was unbelievable. He must be at least on the level of FIVER's most famous prodigy! He couldn't believe his luck.
Glancing around at his teammates who were sitting there boredly, waiting for the detailed debrief, he decided to break the ice. After all, it would be better if they could work well on the mission, right?
"Yo, everyone! Why don't we start off a quick round of introductions since we'll be working together later? I'm Squad Cap'n Jones but you can just call me Alfred!" he grinned brightly.
There was a moment of awkward silence before one of the rookies who had orange hair and dark eyes, the one who had asked a dumb questions earlier volunteered, "Um...I'm Giro?...Haha..." he trailed off nervously. But this seemed to do the trick.
Alfred soon learned the names of the others. Maxim and Jack who were from his cabin, and Giro, Pap and Kotur who were new to him. Except Kotur, all of the others had joined within the past year. Of all of them, Alfred was the youngest, and the dark-skinned Kotur was the oldest, well over 30. He had been in FIVER for over 15 years, and he had been a rookie for over 15 years too. According to him, FIVER only kept him around because he was promising at weapon making, and they were short of weapon specialists.
"God, when is that gay idiot going to invite us in?" One of Alfred's cabin mates, Maxim, said, rolling his eyes. "I hope we kick some serious Pirate butt on this mission. I want a promotion. I'm dead bored of washing the cabin toilets. Damn, they stink."
"Maxim..." Alfred glared at the man with the black dreadlocks. "You know what our orders are-"
"Yeah dude, don't get your panties in a twist. I know, I know." Maxim smiled chillingly and waved a hand, dismissing it.
They sat in silence for ten more minutes before the door finally opened.
"Ve!" Feliciano poked his head out of the office and waved a handkerchief at them. "Come in!"
Alfred heard someone behind him mutter, "What the..."
Feliciano had been eating pasta on the table. The office resembled a overturned rubbish bin: if the aforementioned bin had been next to a pasta restaurant, that is. Uncooked sacks of spaghetti and penne littered the room, while bottles of pasta sauce weighted down stacks of paper. The smell of alfredo and tomato sauce filled the entire room, causing some to choke as they walked in.
Feliciano did not notice, however, and he beamed at them all.
"Ve~ So why are you here again?"
"Sir, we are here for the mission briefing on the Pirates." Alfred said, voice uncertain. Was this a test?
"Oh! The Pirates, yes, Ludwig says they are a very bad group." Feliciano said. Spinning around, he grabbed a random paper from the stack on his table. "Your aim is to search and destroy the Pirates by pepper bombing their base!"
There was a short pause, before Feliciano peered at his paper and said, "Ooops, wrong mission."
He dived into a few stacks of paper behind his desk. The recruits stood in silence, unsure of what to make of this strange subcommander.
"Ah! Right one!" Feliciano said, holding up a tomato sauce-stained paper.
He read off it. "Your aim is to carry out Recon work on the ultimate goal is to find out who their leader is and who their suppliers are. No contact is to be made between you and the enemy...um...Ah! And try to avoid the warehouse by the river. That's where we suspect one of their bases is, I think?" He looked up from the paper and gave the trainees a wide bright smile.
"Ah...your jet will be leaving at 8 in the morning tomorrow. Ludwig says it should take about 5 hours to reach Mios. Then you can walk to Lerem. Uh, maybe you should run because this paper...says that you are expected there at 2.30pm...eh." He flipped the page, and his eyes went very wide.
"Ve! This part has been blocked out! Oh no...something about...civilians...hostile?" Feliciano waved the page around frantically. Alfred saw the sour-smelling red stain that covered just about everything on the page. Tomato sauce on important documents...what in the world?
But Feliciano's panic was not to last. He looked around blindly for a few second more before lowering his head. His bangs shadowed his eyes as his lips trembled. Oh no, Alfred thought, he's not- Then, all of a sudden, the Sub Commander looked up, flashing all the people in the room a blinding smile. "Oh well, whatever!" He beamed and tossed the paper into a corner.
What?...was the thought that ran simultaneously through the minds of all the rookies.
"Hmmm..." the sub-commander glanced at the next sheet of paper. "Ve, this thing says that your return flight will be at the same landing station in Mios in five days. So you have five days to complete your mission! Report back to the landing pad at 3.30 in the afternoon on Thursday.
"You're allowed to bring weapons along on this mission, but you absolutely cannot use them unless in times of emergency. We wouldn't want to alarm the civilians there, right? Ve, if your weapons aren't suitable or something, you can ask Basch! I mean, Basch Zwingli, you know, our weapons specialist. That weird guy who's eternally hiding at the back of the weapons room? But be careful though! He'll shoot you if you startle him, and we don't want any of you dying before the mission even starts! And also, you should take the night to discuss strategies that you can use! Any questions?" Feliciano quipped in a too happy voice.
"Uh, sir. What is my role as squad leader?" Alfred asked, hands tugging at the hem of his uniform. This may have been too presumptuous a question, but he really didn't know how he was expected to behave, as a leader.
Feliciano turned the full force of his bright smile onto Alfred. Without any of his earlier hesitation, he said, "Your job is to keep your subordinates in line. Follow orders and make sure your squad follows them." His smile grew sharper. "We are currently a little short on trained members after an...incident, so we don't want to lose any more valuable trainees."
Sheafing his stack of paper in a thin file, he didn't smile as he said, "As a squad leader, you take full responsibility for the actions of your subordinates."
The already tense atmosphere in the room grew chillier.
But then Subcommander Feliciano grinned merrily at them. "Ah, well, when you're in Lerem, remember to bring some pasta back for me! I'm running out.
"You are dismissed."
Alfred flopped onto his bunk and groaned softly with relief. Who was the idiot who had arranged physical training at eight in the evening? His arms and legs ached from the countless pushups that he had done, and his head swam. He hadn't even had enough energy to visit the showers. He sniffed himself and wrinkled his nose. He stank. It was just great that his trainer had decided that his blond hair meant that he was a snivelling bimbo and that he needed extra motivation.
With a tired sigh he turned over to lie on his stomach, face pushed firmly into his pillow. He was supposed to think of strategies tonight for the Recon tomorrow, wasn't he? What strategies? He couldn't possibly do any thinking tonight. He wanted nothing more than to lie back and fall asleep. But that was not an option. His squad had set the Archives as the meeting spot, and they would be there in an hour. Alfred sighed again. I should probably maintain a professional appearance while waiting for my cabin mates. Then we can walk there together. Or they can drag me.
Reaching under the bed, he pulled out a torn, blackened book, a copy of A Tale of Two Cities. Alfred couldn't tell who the author was, even the bolded title was barely readable. Slipping on his glasses and flipping to the page where he had marked previously, he began reading.
The book was not his. It had been left under the bed even before he had been given this bunk, and likely belonged to one of its earlier inhabitants. Judging by the condition of the dusty book, it had not been touched for at least a few years. Alfred leaned again side of his bed, squinting in the dim light at the tiny words that spun a fictional tale of English bars and French aristocrats in a strange alternate universe.
Maxim was the second one back to the bunk, having gone immediately to the showers after the training. Alfred watched the tanned man as he stumbled into the cabin on sore legs, wearing only a towel, cursing fluently as he stubbed his toe against a bedleg. He reached his bunk and without any warning, dropped the towel. Alfred looked away quickly, cheeks flaming. That was...Alfred knew that he should have been used to it by now, this was a male soldiers' cabin for chrissake, but somehow he just wasn't able to flush the naivete out of hs system. He was also aware that Maxim had caught him staring, and was now thank god he's fully dressedstrutting towards Alfred, a hand on his hip.
"Like what you saw?" he smirked at the flustered blond, and winked distastefully.
"S-Shut up." Alfred glared at him, putting away his book.
"Awww, is out little squad leader scared of birdies?" Maxim's tone was loud, had just the right amounts of patronising, and it had attracted the attention of Alfred's other cabin mates.
Alfred flushed angrily. That jerk. Alright, two can play at this game.
He looked up at Maxim and gave the most brilliant smile he could muster. "Who would be scared of something that's too small to be seen?" He said slowly, eyebrow raised, smugness dripping from each word.
It was Maxim's turn to turn bright red with embarrassment. "You bastard!" He raised a hand as though to start a fight.
Alfred readied himself for a scuffle.
"Sheesh, you guys! Stop that." Before the fight could actually break out, Jack had entered the cabin. Alfred looked away, suddenly guilty. Christ, just how childish was he? Fights among fellow FIVERs were looked down upon in all aspects and strictly prohibited. If they had been caught and reported, his reputation would never be able to recover. And his dream would have floated away...
Clothes still wet from the shower, Jack raised both eyebrows at his squadmates, running a hand through his dripping light hair. "If you too want to kill each other, you can do it after the mission. Then I'll have less competition. And the world will be a happier place."
"Sorry," Alfred mumbled, face heated. From the corner of his eye, he could see Maxim glaring at him, a glare that clearly signified this would continue.
"Though...I agree with you that tomorrow will be really boring," Jack said, looking at Maxim. He grinned a feral grin, all edge and teeth. "I wouldn't mind if they let us spill a bit of blood. But nooo, don't engage in combat with them, he said." Jack rolled his eyes. "Aren't we FIVERs? We're the bloody best. I'll bet we can probably take down their entire army, just the six of us. Morons, the whole lot of th-"
"That's enough, Jack." Alfred intoned lowly. Must all his squadmates be egomaniacal idiots?
Jack paused and stared at Alfred. The smirk on his face disappeared slowly, then returned. "Whatever you say, leader." From beside him, Maxim snorted. Alfred couldn't decide if he was being mocked, so he simply offered a tentative smile. Jack held his gaze for a few more seconds before glancing at the watch around his wrist, and whistling sharply.
"Ooh, 9.40. We should go now, leader." A sharp grin. "Lead the way, Al."
The Archives was a library that could comfortably house a cargo Aerofaire: that is, if it was cleared of its mountain of paperwork. Shelves upon shelves of files were neatly stacked on bookshelves, while cabinets were strewn across the Archives. Altogether, it gave the overall impression of organised Archives were never visited for its impressive collection of books and files: it was visited mainly for the fact that nobody went there.
The Archiver glared at them as they passed by. "No food in the Archives, mind. I do not want to ever open a file and find spaghetti in there..." He trailed off, grumbling to himself.
Alfred, Maxim and Jack found the others: Giro, Pap and Kotur waiting for them already at a spot next to a section labelled "How to Train Your Dragon". (For the record, it was a section about great dictators in history. An old guy with major balding issues by the name of Mao was mainly featured there.)
"I thought you guys would never come," Pap complained. "We were talking about Subcommander Vargas and his- er- subpar Subcommanding skills."
"Don't underestimate him," Kotur warned. "I've seen too many let their guard down around him."
"Whatever you say, old man." Giro said, a tad unkindly.
Alfred smiled at them as he took a seat next to Kotur. There was a brief silence. "Uh so, we're supposed to discuss strategies, right?
"I propose that we uh, try to ask around, I guess? Try to pinpoint the civilians around the warehouse Commander told us about and ask if they've seen anything extraordinary?" he asked lamely.
Maxim rolled his eyes and huffed. "Captain Obvious." Alfred glared at him.
"Jeez, why are we doing this? Isn't it just walk, or run, there and ask some morons what they've seen? We don't really need to discuss strategies, do we?" Pap sighed with annoyance. "I need my beauty sleep. I'm going back."
"Wait. I have…a question for Kotur…" Alfred said uncertainly. "Uh…"
"Well?"
"..."
"Spit it out, woman."
"Well, you know...that guy that Subcommander Feliciano was talking about...I'm kind of curious about him." Alfred trailed off, unsure if it was okay to ask. "Kotur, you've been here the longest. What kind of person was he?"
This got the attention of the other rookies as well.
Kotur shook his head. "If General Bonnefoy ever gets wind that we've talked about him... it's solitary confinement for a week."
Everyone waited in expectant silence.
Kotur sighed and relented. "You never heard it from me, alright?
"General Arthur Kirkland. You've probably heard all kinds of rumors about him, right?" This got some tentative nods. "The first time I saw him, I was a rookie."
"You are still a rookie," Jack interrupted.
Kotur glared at Jack. "Do you want to hear this, or not?"
After a short pause, Kotur continued.
"I never knew him too well: too many generations of rookies by then." Kotur said with a trace of bitterness. "General Kirkland...I heard he joined the FIVERs when he was thirteen, the youngest we've ever got. Cute kid. Blond hair, green eyes. Would have been real jailbait for some of us here." He shot a pointed look at Pap. Pap blushed.
"For the first year or so, I never really caught wind of him and we older ones all thought he had prob'ly gone home crying to his Ma. But then, he got his first mission at fourteen, and well, no one really knows the details, but right after the mission, he was promoted. I have absolutely zilch idea about what he did to earn it but...I heard there was a hell lot of blood involved. The Emperor himself requested to see him, y'know? That's the highest honour a soldier can have.
"Apparently, the Emperor was very happy with him. He must have been because he gave that brat the AVRO 504K, the most incredible Aerofaire of that time, I've heard. Damn, I'm jealous. That beast, it could clock up to 3000 mph; it's faster than most of that crap we have today. And that was what, seven, eight years ago?
"Anyway, that Aerofaire is unique and it can't be made anymore. He got the only copy."
"Why? Why can't it be made anymore?" Giro asked.
Kotur sighed and paused shortly before answering, "Because General Kirkland disappeared together with his Aerofaire. It may or may not have been destroyed in the scuffle that night, nobody knows. And the first thing he did thatnight when he ran away was to destroy the blueprints of his plane and blow up the Aerofaire warehouse. The engineer who made was already dead, y'know? The brat prob'ly knew that once he was gone, no one could possibly reproduce another AVRO jet."
He ran away huh...So it all boils down to this. Alfred looked down glumly. General Kirkland sounded like a pretty interesting person and he would have liked to meet him. But although Alfred knew the long list of things that General Kirkland had done for FIVER, he simply couldn't think about the ex-General in a positive light. Why would he have disappeared? From FIVER, no less, a job which half the nation applies for every year. Doesn't he know that the upper echelons consider him as a traitor of the worst kind?
"What about that night? The superiors, especially Bonnefoy, always try to cover it up, right? So, what happened?" Jack prompted, impatient.
Kotur raised an eyebrow at him. "That's General Bonnefoy to you. And I was about to continue," he said mildly.
"General Kirkland had been promoted to Commander at 16. He was the commander of the Black Ops, our attack and infiltration specialists. He could prob'ly kick any of your wimpy asses here in under a second flat. Then, he got promoted again, to General...at 18. It was unheard of, a kid like that rising through the ranks so quickly. And an 18 year old kid! As General! We didn't quite believe it at first, but well...he proved himself, I guess.
"One of the captains, my ex-cabin mate, his pride wouldn't allow him to accept orders from someone that inexperienced. He challenged General Kirkland to a fight." Kotur stopped here to swallow nervously. "...He was never seen again after that."
The trainees took a moment to look at each other and shudder. The flow of the story, along with Kotur's tone of voice made it sound like he was telling a ghost story.
"He was a brilliant General, even us rookies know that. He's amazing at swordplay, so I've heard, and he was the only one in the history of FIVER with a perfect success rate in his missions. General Bonnefoy was his Vice back then, y'know? Well, apparently they were really good friends but I heard that they argued all the time over the most insignificant things. And," he winked, "there are of course rumors that suggest that they were a lot more than just friends.
"But then as time passed, General Kirkland gradually started to change. I heard that he was no longer as serious about his duties. He became colder to the people around him, and especially us rookies; When we greeted him, he wouldn't even acknowledge us. We thought at first that it was pride and arrogance that was getting to him, and some of us started losing our faith in him, y'know?" Kotur leaned back against his chair and sighed.
"But it wasn't pride. Pride in being the General of FIVER wouldn't have allowed him to leave his position." Kotur looked around, taking in the rookie's mesmerised eyes. So this is what General Kirkland had made himself to be. A legend, enough to stun even the most skeptical of people.
"Then, that happened. Mind you, I don't exactly know what happened myself. What I'm telling you now is a mixture of rumors and gossip from up there.
"General Kirkland was 19 at that time. He'd been the most accomplished in a long line of Generals, despite his young age and inexperience, and he had held his perfect mission record for almost two years. More than two hundred completed assassination missions, it's nothing to laugh at. He was simply inhuman, almost godly. Despite his icy attitude, all of us had no choice but to respect him merely 'cos he was so incredibly strong.
"But then...there was the first time that he had failed to complete his mission. He was called to see the Emperor because of that, y'know? Just one failure, while the rest of us had thousands and were still untouched.
"At least, that was what the uppers told us: that he hadn't managed to complete his assignment. But there were rumors that it was more of that he hadn't wantedto complete his assignment, that he'd flat down refused to follow orders and had allowed the target to escape.
"I've no idea what the Emperor thought about all of that but General Kirkland didn't come back that day. The next morning, General Bonnefoy took over as temporary general. He called all FIVERs, even us rookies for a quick briefing. According to him, General Kirkland had been sentenced to imprisonment for a month. We could all tell he wasn't happy saying that, he practically spat the words out.
"We were all stunned back then, y'know? Only one failure and imprisonment for a month? It didn't make sense. Ugh," Kotur shuddered. "I can't even imagine that. I wouldn't even be able to stand that darkness for a day, much less a month.
"And what was worse, I heard that he'd been taken to the Pit." This got a simultaneous reaction from the rookies. The Pit? Alfred thought. Oh god. The Pit was the hellhole where only the worst of the worst criminals were imprisoned. Rapists, Murderers, Pedophiles...all those who refused to repent and were too far gone to achieve salvation. That was the place where prisoners were raped, killed or even eaten by their fellow cellmates. Just what had General Kirkland done to deserve that?
"We thought the Emperor must have been trying to kill him in the worst way possible. No matter how great a fighter he was, a weaponless young boy with a pretty face couldn't possibly survive a month in that place.
"But General Kirkland never did serve his month-long sentence. He broke out the very next night. In one night, he had escaped from the deepest part of our Headquarters, stolen his Aerofaire and its blueprints, and disappeared. Of course, the alarm was sounded not long after he broke out, but by then he had already reached the Weapons Room and found his sword.
"After that, he was untouchable. Those few who faced him that night and miraculously survived called him a demon. Thatwas the night. On his way out, he had left a trail of destruction, had slaughtered more than three hundred FIVERs, more than a third of our number. Many of them were captains or even higher. Us rookies had been ordered to stop him too of course, though we simply didn't see how that was possible. I know it isn't right to say this but I'm lucky I hadn't met him that night. I would have died.
"And...I don't know if this is a rumor purely made to increase the drama, but apparently, General Kirkland met General Bonnefoy near the exit. They fought and General Bonnefoy lost, but General Kirkland supposedly spared him because of their friendship. General Bonnefoy had to watch as he sailed through the main gate of the headquarters and disappeared on his Aerofaire. He was in a horrible mood for days on end after that, General Bonnefoy I mean. But eventually, well, the incident was pretty well covered, more rookies were recruited and General Bonnefoy settled into his duties and we got used to our new General. That was more than two years ago." Kotur sighed.
"Nobody knows where General Kirkland is now. We've tried to find him of course, and he's been the source of Commander Ludwig's terrible migraines...but in the end, he's simply disappeared. Like a ghost." Kotur shook his head dejectedly. "And you never heard me say this, but compared to General Kirkland, General Bonnefoy is simply not capable enough.
"If General Kirkland was still here, the rebels would never have gotten so brave." Kotur concluded.
He looked around at the newbies. All of them seemed deep in thought. The blond one in particular, Alfred the squad captain, was frowning at the table. General Kirkland always had this kind of effect on people, even when he was gone. He glanced at the old clock on the wall and sighed.
"Alright kids, bedtime story is over. Chop chop, we have an early morning tomorrow."
Alfred hadn't managed to sleep a wink the previous night and sitting on the shaky chopper, he was starting to feel the effects. His headphones were starting to annoy him too. Popping another anti-motion-sickness pill into his mouth and chewing it like candy, he leaned back against his seat. The other rookies certainly seemed relaxed enough since most of them were sleeping except Jack, who was concentrated on a game of tetris.
Pulling a hand over his face and rubbing his eyes to get rid of the bleariness, he thought, again, about what Kotur had said about Arthur Kirkland. It didn't feel right to call him General. Sure, Alfred was impressed enough by his skills and all. Taking on three hundred men with only a sword was pretty amazing, but Alfred simply couldn't think highly of anyone who killed so easily. Three hundred of them! And that's not counting his previous assassination missions.
The thought filled him with a strange sense of dread. Was that what he would be doing when he became a full FIVER? He had signed up to a hero, not a killer. But then, what did that make Kirkland? Before he had ran away, Kirkland had been adored by FIVERs and civilians alike. Hell, Alfred himself had probably been one of those people. Worshipping the nameless, faceless General of the FIVERs when he didn't even know what Kirkland was really doing behind the name he had made for himself.
The least he could have done would be knock them out instead of kill them. But then he wouldn't have had time to get away. Yeah but still, killing like that simply isn't ri- Alfred shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the jumbled thoughts.
No, he decided. It wouldn't do to have doubts about FIVER now. Those were simply rumors after all and may not even have been true. It had been his dream since he was young to fly an Aerofaire, and now that that dream was so close, he wasn't about to let it slip through his fingers like sawdust just because he doubted himself.
Damn it, we're still more than three hours away from Mios and the irritating noise the chopper's making is giving me a headache. Ahhh...I might as well get some sleep.
Curling up on his side and placing his head on the jolting window ledge, he closed his eyes. But after a few seconds opened them again. His mind was simply running through thoughts too fast. He sighed. Sleep was a long distance away.
When they had finally arrived in Mios, Alfred had gotten half an hours worth of sleep, which made him feel slightly perkier. He tried his best to put all thoughts of what had transpired the night before into the back of his mind. He had a mission to conduct after all, and it would not do to get distracted and screw it up.
Jumping off the stationary chopper onto the ground below, Alfred stood up and stretched widely. God, it felt so good not be cramped up in that ridiculously tiny space. Next to him, Giro was massaging his calf muscles with a relieved moan. As the rest of the rookies departed the plane and deposited themselves out of the landing area, the pilot gave them a jaunty wave, signaled five with his fingers and took off. Watching the chopper leave, Alfred was once again filled with a strange sense of exhilaration.
He scanned his surroundings. Overly blue sky, a few seagulls flying overhead, green grass, shady trees. A complete fantasy storybook backdrop. So this is Mios.
He had always been a city boy. Raised and well-cared for in the bustling metropolis of Jarn, the capital of Undine, he had never really gotten the chance to travel around before. He had of course heard of Mios and Lerem being among Undine's famed tourist spots, with their seaside scenery and amazing food. And after being cooped up for close to 4 months at the Headquarters...aah, the wind here really is nice.
He stretched again, holding his hands above his head, simply breathing in and breathing out, enjoying the faint scent of salt that tinged the a huff, he swung his hands down and relaxed. This was wonderful. He could see why the Pirates had chosen such a place for their bases.
"Hey guys, take a look at this!" Pap's excited voice rose from a small distance away. The five other trainees shuffled over to where he was standing. Pap was at the edge of a tall cliff, that overlooked the entire of Mios and Lerem. What was in front of him took his breath away.
"Incredible..." He heard mutters from all around him. Incredible was right. The town itself was startlingly beautiful. Spiraling towers, glass cathedrals, and the famed waterways that spread through the city like a spiderweb, it gave Mios a strikingly storybook feel.
But they didn't have the time to admire the scenery. It was already 1.30, the sun was bright up overhead and they only had an hour to sprint to Lerem.
"Hey, guys, the time!"
"Shit, run!"
They reached their base in Lerem, panting heavily, and even then they were more than three hours late late. A 50km run in an hour? Subcommander Feliciano must have been quite mad. "...S-s-son..of..a bitch," Alfred thought he heard Jack gasp from behind him.
It was just as well that the pretty lady with an orange flower in her brown hair who was in charge of the FIVER base in Lerem was rather nice to them. They were offered cake and juice, and a few rooms to rest and get changed. It was overall, a pleasant experience as compared to their hellish run over the last few hours.
I'm exhausted, Alfred thought, wiping droplets of sweat off his chin. He glanced around him. And the rest of them probably are too. He glanced at the clock fixed on the wall. One evening wouldn't make much of a difference. Aah, let's just get started tomorrow. He didn't think he had ever seen people look at him that gratefully before when he gave orders that they should take the evening off.
The next morning, there was much moaning and groaning as the six rookies pulled themselves out of their comfortable covers. Damn, Alfred thought while brushing his teeth, the Lerem Base is pretty posh. I could get used to this relaxed atmosphere real fast. The soft covers had been a welcoming experience after four months of cold hard bunks and surprise midnight runs. As he eyed the civilian clothes that he had laid out in front of the showers, he couldn't help but smile in anticipation. His first day of his first mission! This would be fun. He couldn't wait for breakfast. The pretty lady from yesterday, Elizabeta, had served them dinner last night, and boy, was her cooking something to die for.
Walking leisurely down the stairs while towelling his still wet hair (Hot water! He hadn't had a hot water bath since forever!), he made his way to the dining area. Everyone was there except for Jack who Alfred knew loved to sleep in.
"Morning!" Alfred called brightly, taking a seat. Most of the other recruits smiled at him, with the exception of Maxim who simply looked away. But even he seemed to be in too good a mood to drop a snarky comment.
A loud yawn was heard from the direction of the doorway. Just as a half-awake Jack was stumbling blearily towards the table, Elizabeta emerged from the kitchen. Somehow, she had donned a dark green military suit, which didn't entirely go well with the large plate of...small sandwich-looking things that she was carrying.
"I made you guys soldiers!" She smiled, cute and charming. Seeing the rookies' weirded out faces at the name, she continued to explain as she placed the large plate on the table. "Aah, we just call them that from where I came from. Aren't they cute? Hope you like it."
Pap was the first one to take one and pop it into his mouth. His face lit up. "It's amazing! You cook really well."
Elizabeta curtsied, though it was strange with the miltiary uniform. "Thank you."
The warm atmosphere lasted for approximately fifteen seconds before Jack ruined it. With his mouth full of food, he smirked, looking at Elizabeta, and said, "Milady, you look absolutely amazing in that tight-fitting costume. If only your" wink "were a little larger..." Alfred could tell that he was only teasing. He laughed lightly and turned back to his meal. But something stopped him...
There was sharp cracking sound from where Elizabeta was standing. Alfred turned his head and stared at the ground, face morphing into absolute horror as it rumbled and cracked into pieces around her feet. A terrible malevolent aura started to emanate around her, disintegrating the chair that it touched into ashes. Bangs shadowed her eyes as a frying pan magically appeared in her shaking hand.
"I...I try so hard, a-and y-you..." She looked up. Her eyes spat fire.
Jack started backing away from the dangerous creature before them. Shit, he thought. Have I pissed her off with my chauvinism? He laughed nervously as he offered, "A-ah, I'm sorry? Milady, I didn't mean it. You look incredibly manly in that uniform, fit to be in FIVER, I mean it- "
His apology was cut off as the aura around her started shrieking for blood. "T-that white hair...a-and that attitude..." she breathed. She took a step forward and the ground shook another time. Alfred had already backed himself against a wall, quaking in his boots, terrified of the spectacle before his eyes.
Oh god helppp, we're all going to die here because of something that idiot Jack said. Please, someone, I'm too young for this-
His internal monologue was cut off by an inhuman roar. "YOU'RE EXACTLY LIKE HIM! I TRY SO HARD TO BE FEMININE! AND YOU-" Frying pan raised, the hellish monster pounced.
The Lerem base was filled with girly screams and loud crashes that bright sunny Monday morning.
Alfred trudged along the streets, mourning his one black eye. But compared to Jack, he had gotten off fairly lightly. How had he been supposed to know that that pretty lady had been Elizabeta Héderváry, the current Commander of the Black Ops, and the one and only female Commander of FIVER? Ok fine, so I should have judged that from her name and her uniform, but how are we supposed to know that she was trying to be feminine?!
What was a high-ranking officer like her doing there anyway? She couldn't simply have stationed herself there to watch over their mission. Maybe she was stalking the Pirates too, she was certainly innocent-looking enough to pull off any inflitration mission. What was it that the pissed-off Commander Elizabeta had screamed at them again? Oh yeah, that curfew everyday was at 10, and that they needed to write her a daily report which she would forward to Commander Ludwig. And if that report wasn't delivered by the next morning, a repeat episode of what had occurred today would happen .Oh man.
After the...event...that morning, Alfred and the rest had split up to try asking for information. Alfred had thought that a mission couldn't possibly have been any easier but after an hour of fruitless searching, he had been proven wrong.
It wasn't an easy task, this Recon mission. Under the blazing sun and the azure sky, surrounded by countless stores offering delicious ice-cream and cold drinks, he felt like Tantalus, one of the guys he had read about in some weird mythology book. Not to mention he had no money, since it had been confiscated by Commander Elizabeta to pay for the damage on the base she had inflicted herself. Hell on Earth indeed.
And there was something weird about Lerem's civilians too. As a famed tourist town, he had expected the inhabitants to be warm and friendly. Well, to be fair they weren't exactly unfriendly but when he'd questioned some of them earlier, they hadn't seemed to have been awestruck or anything when he'd told them he was a FIVER on a reconnaissance mission about the Pirates. He had imagined that they would at least have offered to let him into their houses or something, but no, the people here were cold and indifferent. Nothing at all like the civilians back in Jarn who practically hero-worshipped any rookie FIVER. This...was pretty new, and not an altogether pleasant experience.
Alfred sighed as he knocked on another door. The door was opened by a young blonde woman. She tossed her permed curls and stared at him expectantly.
Alfred held up his ID and tried to sound as professional as possible. "Good morning, miss. I'm from the Flight Initiation Venture Engagement and Rescue forces of Undine. May I ask you a few questions regarding rebel activity in this place?"
The blonde stared at her polished nails as she nodded absently. "Yeah, whatever."
Trying not to glare at her, Alfred said, "Have you ever heard of the Pirates?"
The young woman raised a manicured eyebrow. "You mean the ones who rob people on the sea? Who hasn't?"
Telling himself that this was a perfectly reasonable question, Alfred refrained from rolling his eyes. "No, I mean the Pirates, in particular the name of the rebel group that operates from this place. Do you know anything about them or what they've done recently?" Had he perhaps recognised a spark of knowing recognition in the woman's eyes when he said that, or was it merely his imagination?
The blonde paused a moment to admire her sparkling nails in the sunlight. She is the reason why people are so prejudiced against blondes, Alfred gritted his teeth. After what seemed like eternity, the woman finally chose to answer, "I've heard about them in the news but that's about it. Now if there's nothing else, Johnny's waiting..." The blonde raised an eyebrow and lifted her chin in the perfect look of condescension.
"Yes," Alfred said stiffly. "That will be all. Thank you for your time." The door was slammed in his face.
He walked away seething inwardly. That was the tenth person already. What is it with this place and the people? Aren't they supposed to be friendly? Heck, even the tourism website says that they're friendly. What in the world?
Frowning with frustration, he glanced at his watch. It was nearly noon already: he had better hurry back to the rendezvous point.
In the centre of the town stood a wishing well fountain. It was touted as the highlight of visiting Lerem: it had beautiful reliefs representing the different towns of Undine. It was also a convenient rendezvous point, since nobody really wanted to return to the Lerem base after what had happened.
Kotur was already there. "We're not going to get anything out of them," he stated baldly.
Pap and Giro walked up to them, sighing heavily. "Nothing, you?" Pap asked.
Kotur and Alfred shook their heads.
Jack and Maxim came soon after. Jack was nursing his sore wrist, while Maxim was continuously ranting. His loud voice was attracting attention, and Jack tried (unsuccessfully) to shush him. "These stupid townspeople won't tell us anything. I tried threatening one but he just ran off in a hurry."
"Er, well...Maxim, if you threaten someone they do normally try to get away," Alfred pointed out.
"Whatever, you know what I mean," Maxim sneered.
"So what shall we do now?" Kotur asked impatiently. "We'll have to change tactics, that much is obvious."
Giro opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted when a little boy bumped into him. He was around seven years old and had brown hair and brown eyes, typical of one from Lerem. Giro patted his head. "Run along, kid. We're discussing matters of importance here."
The child looked up at them with unbelievably watery puppy eyes. "I want my mommy," the child cried.
Alfred approached the boy. "Where's your mommy?" he asked gently. Behind him he could practically feel the waves of annoyance and disapproval radiating from Maxim.
"I don't know!" the child wailed. "Mommy told me to stay there but she didn't after five minutes so I thought evil people had kidnapped her and then I wandered here and I can't find her!"
"It's alright, we'll find your mommy." Alfred said soothingly. "Where did she ask you to wait?"
"Outside the marketplace," the boy sobbed.
"Come along, then." Alfred said, taking his hand. "What's your name?"
"Doug," the boy said. "Thank you, nice man."
"What is our great squad leader doing? Helping out little kids?" Alfred heard Maxim snort from behind.
"Quiet, Maxim." Kotur said. "It's more productive than anything we've been doing. Maybe his mother would be more willing to open up."
Alfred and the five of them wandered through the meandering streets of Lerem. The marketplace was situated quite a way off, leaving Alfred to wonder how long Doug had been walking.
"What does your mommy look like?" Alfred asked Doug.
"She has a red dress, and she's pretty." Doug said.
"Well, that really narrowed it down." Pap commented. "How are we supposed to find his mother?"
Doug looked ready to cry again when Alfred reassured him, "Don't worry, we'll find her."
When they got to the marketplace, they searched the surrounding area. Finally, as they passed a deserted alley, Doug shrieked and ran into the alley. Alfred and the rest followed him, where a lady in red dress was searching anxiously, tears in her eyes. When her eyes alighted on Doug, she ran forward, sighed in relief and hugged him tightly.
"Doug! I told you to stay here! Do you know how worried I was?"
"Sorry, mommy," Doug said, his voice muffled from the hug he was tightly enfolded in.
"I can't thank you enough, young man," She said, beaming at Alfred.
Alfred saluted. "No problem, ma'am, we are FIVERs after all!"
The smile disappeared completely from her face, replaced by something Alfred couldn't quite discern. Suspicion? Or maybe simply indifference. Whatever it was, it was a far cry from the warmth that had emanated from the mother-child pair moments ago. "You are FIVERs?"
Beside her, Doug stared up at the six rookies with fear in his eyes. "F-FIVERs?" he whispered to himself and started to cry again. "Mommy, aren't they the bad men who took away my best kite and threatened to cut off my—my—"
"Ma'am?" Alfred asked uncertainly. The rest of the group stepped up around him, forming a sort of semi-circle around the woman. She didn't seem to notice them, and instead glared at him. "Let me tell you something about FIVERs and all you military dogs. They are jerks at best and murderers at their worst. They come to town often and they always extort money from us and… worse." She shielded her son protectively.
"Why you-" Jack spat, drawing a knife. "We're nothing lik-"
"Step down, Jack." Alfred ordered, glaring at him fiercely. It wouldn't do cause that big a spectacle here. Turning to the woman, he tried to pacify her. "I'm sorry for what happened to your son, but please believe me, not all of us are like that. Please, ma'am, we're only here to gather information about this rebel group called the Pirates. Will you help us-"
"Help you?" she asked incredulously. "Help you find the Pirates so you can kill them like pigs? The Pirates are what keeps our town functioning. They protect us against soldier crap like you. They're the police of our town. Why should I help you?"
Alfred couldn't do anything but stare down at her, seriously tongue-tied. How many more people feel this way about us...?
The woman took another glance at her bawling son and sneered. "I wish all you FIVERs and your goddamn Emperor could burn in hell." She spat.
"How dare you say that against your Emperor?!" Jack's temper finally snapped. Swinging his dagger, he charged at her, bloodlust in his eyes. Alfred ran forward, colliding painfully with Jack.
"Wait, wait, stop and think," Alfred shouted, holding a struggling Jack back. On a good day, Alfred would have a harder time, but Jack had been out of it ever since Commander Héderváry had unleashed her anger.
"There is no thinking, squad leader." Kotur said grimly. "This is High Treason. She deserves to be burnt for it. What we're doing now… it's a mercy."
The woman stared up at them, trembling but defiant. Doug started to cry, his voice loud and earnest. "Please don't!" he screamed.
"That kid is annoying." Pap said in a clear and carrying voice. "Please, let's kill them."
"No!" Alfred shouted, but he found Giro and Jack were restraining him now, instead of the other way around. "Sorry, squad leader," Giro said, actually sounding apologetic. "I suppose you've been… outvoted. We, FIVERs, can't just stand back and watch our Emperor being defamed."
The rest rushed towards the woman, who screamed and blocked her son, but before they could actually do anything more than grab their weapons, a knife whistled past Maxim's ear.
"What the f—" Maxim swore as they turned around.
A child with striking violet eyes and silver hair stood at the end of the alley. He was wearing a strange cloak of some sort over his red jacket but the Pirate's insignia was clear and stark on the blackness of his cloak. He showed no outward emotions as he intoned lowly, "This is Pirates' territory, FIVERs. Get lost, or you'll regret it."
Alfred turned back to see Doug and his mother running to the other end of the alley to escape. He smiled to himself. Good.
Kotur laughed. "Oh? You and whose army?"
The Pirate looked around, suddenly noticing that he was alone and very much outnumbered.
"I figured I didn't really need to do a thing since you could probably kill yourselves with your own stupidity," the Pirate commented. "It has happened to FIVERs before."
"Right," Maxim snorted, and they charged.
"Wait, guys!" Alfred yelled as he tried to stop the one nearest to him, Pap, but was knocked away in the flurry of movement.
The Pirate didn't stand much of a chance, considering that the FIVERs were armed, and he was outnumbered five to one. Still, he gave a damn good fight.
As Maxim came running towards him, the Pirate dodged neatly and he crashed into a trash bin with enough force to dent it. Pap and Kotur were next, running from two different directions. The kid threw a roundhouse kick at Pap, pushing him a meter back, before he whirled on Kotur. His knife flashed out, and Kotur swore loudly as he felt the slash of a knife on his arm. Damn, the kid was quick. Still, they continued- FIVER training ensured that they could withstand the pain.
Jack and Giro joined the fight, and they slowly overwhelmed the Pirate. From the groans and screams of the Pirate, they were doing a pretty good job. Maxim had recovered enough to join the fight, and he was screaming for vengeance- Alfred could practically hear it in every punch Maxim executed. After all, Maxim had been top in Hand to Hand Combat Class.
Alfred stood at the perimeter of the fight, hesitating. This sure wasn't what he signed up for. When he had signed up, he envisioned him saving towns from evil men. Not a five-on-one uneven fight with a kid. Neither did he sign for killing innocent civilians, which his squad mates had absolutely no qualms about doing. But...he couldn't exactly stop them either, since the minimum punishment for rebels was torture and death, even for a young boy like the one they were facing.
Finally, the Pirate was knocked out cold. They left him there where he lay, as they discussed what to do with him. Alfred stared at the badly beaten kid. His right arm had been stabbed and was twisted at an awkward angle, blood trickled down his forehead and out of his nose. He wouldn't be able to throw another knife for a long while.
But since we finally have someone who can 'volunteer' information..."We should question him on Pirate activities." Alfred said, but he found himself ignored by the rest of his squad mates.
"Let's kill him." Jack grinned eagerly. "Filthy brat. He got his blood all over my clothes. Let's do it slow-." He was cut off by a knife that entered his chest.
Alfred gaped at the intricately designed knife. Like a mannequin, Jack fell awkwardly to the ground, sprawled over his own arms, blood seeping into the grass below. His eyes were wide open with shock, and Alfred stared into them just hard enough to see the last semblances of light dimming from them.
He's...dead? Alfred looked on blankly. He didn't really dare to think. At any other moment, he might have laughed at his own patheticness. Really, for all his bravado at being a FIVER, for all his anticipation at being on the battlefield, he couldn't even stand one dead body? What was wrong with him? But at that moment, he could think of nothing else than the fact that Jack had died. He hadn't really liked Jack, but still...he had known him for four months. Surely that counted for something?
Wake up, you fool. His brain supplied for him. If he's dead, it means someone killed him. And that someone may kill you too. Pulling himself from his stupor, Alfred stored the piece of information that Jack was dead deep within his mind. It had been one of the first things that his instructors back at the headquarters had taught him, the how to clear your mind when you see a comrade die lesson.
"...Cap'n..." He heard the violet-eyed Pirate boy mumble weakly from behind him. A Captain? Of the Pirates? Remembering what Commander Ludwig had told them about the strength of the leaders of the Pirates, he couldn't help but curse at the stupidity of his squadmates. They were really in deep shit now.
He scanned the buildings around them but couldn't see anyone suspicious. Around him, the other rookies were backing up too, pistols in hand, glancing nervously at their surroundings. This was no joke, and their petrified expressions that mirrored the one on Alfred's own face said it all.
The silence around them was oppressing and carried the question of who would go next. Pap was the first one to break. Sobbing frantically while dropping his gun, he pulled a small knife and leapt for the dazed white-haired kid behind them. "Don't hurt me! Or he gets it!" He screamed, voice breaking in panic, as he hefted the badly beaten boy upright, ignoring the boy's whimpers of pain. He pressed the knife against the boy's neck, deep enough to draw a thin line of blood.
"Don't provoke him!" Kotur looked around and hissed wide-eyed at Pap, but the trembling shaking FIVER didn't seem to register it.
"I'll kill him if you touch me!" Pap shrieked again, dilated pupils darting around, too near hysterics to listen to anything at all.
Even in his terror, Alfred couldn't help but feel disgust for his squadmate for dropping so low. What he had done had completely tarnished FIVER's reputation. He could almost hear Subcommander Feliciano's words whispering in his mind. "As a squad leader, you take full responsibility for the actions of your subordinates." Even if they survived this ordeal, once he got back to the Headquarters, he might as well pack his bags and go home. There would no longer be any future for him down that path.
Sweat trickling down his cheeks, he swept his gaze across his surroundings again. There was utter silence, broken only by Pap's ragged sobs and a gurgle-
Alfred turned around, just in time to watch incredulously as Pap's detached head rolled across the ground to land at his feet. Pap's body was still acting on autopilot, but he had dropped the boy, and his hands were fumbling at the empty space his head had once been. Blood spurted from the stump of his neck. It seemed like eternity before his body finally fell, lifeless, to the ground, and his blood mingled with Jack's. Alfred felt sick. He needed to throw up, but he also knew that this wasn't the time.
"THERE!" He head Giro scream and point. He looked.
A hooded figure, balanced precariously on a lamppost. The black cloak on which the insignia was printed swirled around its rather androgynous body. It held a large rapier in its right hand, the tip dripping with blood. Pap's blood, Alfred realised with distinct horror, and a trace of rage. The figure in the hood lifted its chin. Alfred caught a flash of green within the shadow cast by its hood. Great. If I could just survive this, I could at least report back that one of the Captains of the Pirates has green eyes. If. Big if.
Beside him, he heard Kotur hiss a sharp intake of breath. "Y-You!" He yelled at the figure, voice tinged with terror and a healthy dose of desperation. Alfred spared him a glance. He knew the enemy? He looked on in shock as Kotur dropped his pistol and fell to his knees, the picture of complete surrender. "Y-You're-Why would you-Please spare u-" He didn't get the chance to complete a sentence before a knife shot through the air, plunging into his back. He made a sharp keening sound and collapsed.
Then there were three. Anger overtook Alfred. Even if he hadn't particularly like his squadmates, the Pirate had just killed them like they were nothing more than cockroaches. Anyone like that, who didn't even understand the value of life, didn't deserve anything. "Fire!" He yelled, aiming his gun at the hooded figure and firing continuously. His teammates joined in as gunshots resounded loudly, echoing in the very silent background.
But their bullets didn't even seem to reach the Pirate. It leapt down from the lamppost, landing lightly on the ground before sprinting towards them, both hands on its rapier. With a heavy jerk, it disarmed Alfred and knocked him to the ground , before spinning around to slash Giro across the chest and kicking him away like a ragdoll. If Alfred hadn't been so stunned, he would have thought that the graceful swordplay was beautiful, almost like a dance of some sort.
Maxim yelled something unintelligibly as he fired his last bullet at point-blank range. The Pirate dodged as best as it could but the bullet caught him in his left shoulder. The Pirate gasped in pain as it stumbled but not before dodging another one of Maxim's punches. Cursing heavily under its breath as its left arm fell limply to the side, it stabbed Maxim with his rapier, controlling the heavy-looking piece of metal perfectly with its right hand.
And then there was one. The Pirate turned to Alfred. Alfred's mind was pathetically blank. He didn't have anymore weapons on him and even if he did, it was impossible for him to get out of this situation. Oh, oh shit. I'm going to die. On my first mission. I haven't even gotten promoted, I'll never make it to General...oh god, no. His mind started babbling in a surge of panic.
The hooded figure twirled its rapier casually in its right hand, as if deliberating something. Then finally, he spoke in a tone that screamed utter confidence, "You are the leader, are you not?" His low voice was smooth and clipped and, Alfred realised with a jolt, the type of voice nobles used to speak their flowery language. A noble? But what would a rich kid be doing with a rebel group like the Pirates? It was only when the Pirate prodded him impatiently with the tip of his sword that Alfred remembered that he'd been asked a question.
Refusing to reply, he glared at the Pirate Captain. But instead of getting annoyed like Alfred thought he would, the man simply laughed. "God only knows what they're teaching recruits nowadays. Yes, you are the leader," he answered his own question. Calmly, smoothly, he sheathed his sword. And in the same movement, with a quick expert swipe of his wrist, two knives flew towards Alfred, embedding themselves in the thick material of his jacket, effectively pinning him to the wall. It would take Alfred an eternity to admit it but he had probably emitted a very unmanly squeak.
The Pirate sighed and lowered his hood, revealing a crown of messy spiky dark blond hair, thick eyebrows and intense green eyes. Alfred realised with a start that the Captain was hardly older than he was, yet he had handled the sword like he'd used it for more than half his life.
The Pirate Captain turned to one end of the alley, took a deep breath and bellowed, "OYYY! SPAIN! ROMANO! HURRY THE BLOODY HELL UP!" before wincing, muttering something that rhymed with 'duck' under his breath, and clutching his injured shoulder. Alfred, though startled by the his sudden change in demeanor, turned to where the Pirate was yelling towards. Sure enough, a pair of brown haired men appeared around the corner soon afterwards.
"You're too fast." The shorter one muttered sullenly, the curl on his forehead bobbing up and down. Alfred squinted at him and out of the blue, realised why he looked so familiar.
"Feliciano?" he asked, speaking for the first time since his capture.
The shorter Pirate turned and raised an eyebrow at him. "That's my brother. Another FIVER, huh. You morons are showing up around here like moths to a flame." Alfred gaped. His brother? His brother is in FIVER? Then what is he doing with the Pirates?
The taller brown-haired man simply looked upon the events with a bright smile, reminding Alfred way too much of a certain aforementioned Subcommander. "What should we do with him, England? Eh? You're injured?" he asked, noticing the blood that seeped through the cloak the blond captain was wearing. He didn't sound concerned, only amused. The Captain rolled his eyes in dismissal.
Alfred turned to the Captain and frowned. "England? As in the name of the country from that series of fictional books?"
Romano was the one who answered him. "An educated FIVER. Well, this is a rare find. And yes, England is the name of a place on Earthland. As are Spain and Romano."
The Pirate Captain, whose name seemed to be England, sighed and snapped his fingers, drawing attention back to him. "Stop fraternising with the enemy, Romano. He is their-", a quick gesture to the dead bodies littering the ground, "leader so he should might know something about Bonnefoy's plans."
Alfred stiffened. "If you think I'll volunteer information about anything, you're mistaken-"
England cut him off with a wave of his hand and a knowing smirk. "That is what they all say." He glanced backwards at the silver-haired Pirate kid who was still on the ground, oblivious to the world, before turning to Romano and Spain. Eyeing Alfred, he said, "Restrain him and take him to our interrogation base. And call for men to clean up this place."
Walking over, he picked the unconscious silver-haired boy up with one hand and threw him over his shoulder. "I'll take Iceland to Belgium. Hopefully his arm is still salvageable."
End Chapter 1.
AN: That would be the first chapter (you don't say.) Anyway, we will try to update often, but unfortunately, inspiration happened to hit Bel just as we hit finals. *glare glare* So we are (attempting to) study more.
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