Title: We Were Never Human
Rating: T for language (although a bit less than usual-thanks, Sealand), slight violence, mentions of death, horrible puns and sometimes Sw'd'n T'lk
Pairings: SuFin, DenNor
Talking: SUP. Finished Camp NaNoWriMo (35,000 words in under 30 days I'm so happy!), so here's my newest fic! Enjoy!
I'm aware Sweden's canon physical age is 21 and Finland's is 20, but I made them older because it's normal for them to be adopting kids when they're PHYSICALLY 20/21, but MENTALLY much, much older... However, as humans, 20/21 is most often a little young to be a adopting a child (average US age range is 25-50). Sorry-I usually stick to all the canon ages and stuff, but I would feel really awkward writing it like that.
And whoa, a lot of things I wanted to change with this chapter. Sorry for possibly spamming your email with "updated" notifications.
Disclaimer: I do not hold or claim to hold any sort of ownership or rights over the characters in this story; they belong to Hetalia/Hidekaz Himaruya. Also, the basic outline of all superpowers was provided by Superpower Wiki.
Denmark - Mathias Densen
Norway - Lukas Thomassen
Iceland - Emil Steilssen
Sweden - Berwald Oxenstierna
Sealand - Peter Kirkland
Finland - Tino Väinamöinen
We Were Never Human: One:
It began, as all immensely cliche stories do, on a dark and stormy night.
The darkness made for better cover as I darted over roofs, my feet hardly touching the ground. Miles were crossed in minutes, and although the rain stung at my face, I hardly noticed it. This night was too important to waste.
I leave skid marks from my shoes on the shingles as I slide to a stop. I'm gasping for breath. My shoulders heave and my heartbeat thumps in my veins.
The roof I wait on looks nondescript, but I only pause briefly before I jump down to the porch. The distance is shorter than I am, but not by much, and I sink into a crouch before bouncing back up into a standing position. Sharp pain jolts through my ankles, but I force myself to move. The pounding rain hides any sound.
The door is closed (and so are all the windows, with no peephole visible in the door, but I stay to the side anyway). I trace the edges of the doorway with shaky hands, skin pale in the dim moonlight.
I grin as I feel three slashes in the wood under my fingertips. Perfect-these signs are used to signal others, but I don't think they've realized I know their code yet. I whisper a thanks to whoever I pray to nowadays, and test the closest window. No, not this one-I move on to the next one, and it gives.
Time is of the essence-I open the window and jump through-but stealth is just as important.
The inside of the house is dark. They must be trying to make it look like the house is empty. I grin again, because this will be fun. I run a hand through blonde hair that's still spiky despite the wet outdoors, and catch my breath as I glance around the room.
I rush to the other side of the wide room. It takes only a second or two. Now, I'm standing, my back pressed against the olive green wall.
I can hear muffled sounds coming from somewhere below me. Conversation and... Something else, something I haven't heard before. I'm on the first floor, so that must be the basement. I smirk, mind racing as I make my way through the house. I'm not too afraid about being caught. Father would call it cocky. I call it sensible. If they do find me, what're they gonna do, catch me?
I check up on places like these regularly. They're criminal hideouts. But in my years of working undercover like this, I've never heard anything other than talking.
So I creep to where I know the basement door is (I've only come here a few times, spread out over months-I don't think they know I've found this place yet).
I sneak down the dimly lit stairs, still concealed by a brick wall. My footsteps are light and I try my best to avoid creaky steps.
I can hear them much better now. A man is shouting, and I hear metal squeak, followed by a grunt of pain.
It must have been recent. The captive is fighting back. I tiptoe closer to the empty doorway. I can make out voices.
"Goddammit, what else can he do?" a rough, male voice demanded. The sound was followed by the click of handcuffs.
"I-" the woman cursed "-dunno. Ya need'a take 'im out!" She hissed in pain.
I darted around the corner, taking stock of the room in an instant. The woman held a snapped rope in her pale hands and blinked blue eyes as she saw me turn the corner so quickly. A bruise was forming on her forearm. The man had darker skin, and his red-brown hair stuck up in messy spikes. He was trying to pin down a stranger, already handcuffed and fighting back nonetheless.
In seconds, the woman was thrown against the wall and I was hauling the dark-haired one away. I finished with a sharp kick to his skull. I panted as the woman stood again and lunged. Brave move, but I jumped out of the way in a split second and she skidded to a halt, turning on me. I threw her hard enough to make her dizzy, and she almost fell.
"Come and fight me on fair terms," she spat. "Human-ta-human, Denmark. Let's see if ya can beat me in a real fight, an' not just run away."
"Tryin'a trick you," a low, heavily-accented voice came from behind me, making me startle. "Know's yer better if yer fast. Keep goin'."
I didn't have to glance back to know it was the hostage. "Yeah, yeah," I reply, but my pride is stung.
The woman's expression hardens. I jump forward. With the help of my superhuman speed, I manage to knock her unconscious with a few well-placed hits.
I turn to the man, kneeling beside him to unlock the chains holding him to the wall. When he's free, he sits up straight and tall-he's even taller than me-and nods his thanks to me.
"I don't know when they're waking up. Ya gotta get outta here," I say, gesturing up the stairs. I pause to take my phone out of my pocket. "Here, uh, call the ER and police or something."
The blonde simply considers me silently with a sharp-eyed blue glare. I notice, again, that he really is tall. "Handcuffs," he grunts.
"Oh," I say, looking down at his hands. "Right." It takes me a moment, but I manage to help him slip his hands through the links without much blood. "Here ya go." I pass him the phone.
He has rectangular glasses left slightly askew on his face, and he straightens them now with one calloused hand. His other hand pointedly does not take the phone, and he makes his way over to the unconscious would-be kidnappers. He kneels beside the man, touching a hand to the floor and closing his eyes in concentration.
The stone shifts and writhes, but he takes a handful-oh God, a handful of the stone floor-and stretches it across the man's torso, where it hardens and sticks. He repeats this a few times, then moves on to the woman, binding her firmly to the floor. I stare openly as he rises to his feet again.
"Who are you?" I ask.
"You?" the stranger returns without answering.
I grin, but it's not as enthusiastic as usual, and my eyes are still wide with shock. "I'm Denmark!"
He hesitates, then returns, "Sw'den."
"Sw'den?" I wonder. He frowns slightly.
"S-Sweden," he corrects, eyes narrowed, "Why're you here?"
"Rescuing you, of course!" I say, then point at the people halfway in the floor. "How'd ya do that? That's crazy, man!"
"How'd you run so fast?" he asks. He shrugs. "Don't know. Always have."
I grin. "Well, Sweden, d'ya wanna report this whole kidnapping thing to the police? Or should we just tell 'em 'bout these two?" I jerk my thumb at them.
He says nothing. "Human name?"
I glance up at him. "Maybe later. Once you've saved my life, and I know you weren't put here on purpose to spy on me or something."
Sweden shrugs. "Fair enough. I should go."
"Yeah, me too," I agree, and we slowly make our way out. I pause at the door and make a call. They know my number, so I just give them the address, tell them there's two people for them to pick up and hurry after Sweden.
I smirk up at him, "Hey, kid!"
He looks down at me. "What makes you think 'm younger than you?"
"Magic powers," I tell him, my voice dead serious. "I can make things happen with just my brain."
Sweden narrows his eyes at me, then sighs quietly. I continue, "Anyway, Sweden! Are you like me?"
"I can't run fast," he says.
"I can also live through high G-Force pressure, think really fast, and see things better than you!" I say. I beam, and add, "What can you do, though?"
"Make objects and tech," he says. "And technokinesis."
"Techno-what?" I question. He glares at me. I find myself shrinking away.
"Technokinesis," he says. "I understand machines."
"Oh," I say. "Anyways, d'ya wanna team up? I'm lonely doing this all by myself!"
He considers me for a minute or two, and I shift uncomfortably. He's glaring at me, and I don't know why.
"Nowhere else to go," he says at last, shrugging. "Okay. Roommates, though. I have no house anymore."
I stare at him. That went... Faster than I thought it would be. I thought it would take at least a bit of convincing, and honestly doubted it would work at all. A grin creeps across my expression. "Okay! We better start walking, then, my house is this way!"
He catches up to me, our strides nearly the same length (his are a little longer, but it's not my fault he got the insanely tall genes and I didn't!) as we make our way slowly through the rain.
He's the first of six to come with me like that. It's my first time winning someone over in a battle. Usually they just run, thinking I'm another kidnapper. Sometimes they thank me quietly before forgetting about me in favor of their families. Sometimes they go as far as to hit me (or try to-it never works). But... None of them have acted quite like this before.
Well... One down, four to go.