Summary: Some stories can get quite complicated. Especially when they involve crime families, plots to take over the world, and immortality. Time can't erase hate, nor can it erase love, and a life of crime can last forever. AU
Main Characters: England, China, Japan, Canada, Korea, America, Russia (a lot of other characters are in the story and I refuse to list them all. These are the 'main' characters )
Pairings: This story is not a romance story. England and China are the main characters but they are definitely not a pairing in this. The 'love' in it is mostly family bonds and brotherhood and stuff like that. A few pairings may pop up or be hinted at, but there are very few legit pairings. And I'm not going to reveal what those are. :3
I will say that there will be a lot of brotherly USUK and brotherly NiChu.
Warnings: For this chapter? Nothing really. Mentions of drugs and violence. For the entire fic? ...Severe mindf*ckery and trolling. And cliffhangers. Lots of cliffhangers. And if you don't pay attention to dates and locations you will get very confused very fast.
Xiang-Hong Kong; Angelique-Seychelles; Joey-Australia; Linh-Vietnam; Tai-Thailand; Mei-Taiwan (+ cameos by Cameroon and Macau, who are both canon characters)
Chapter 1
"Is it getting better? Or do you feel the same?"
-One, U2 (and Mary J. Blige)
/
Toronto- Ontario, Canada – March, 2010
It was cold.
The young man exhaled, watching his breath ghost and mist in the air. He smiled to himself at the sunny day, grinning upwards at the cloudless sky and relishing the surreal calmness that wasn't usually associated with the harsh Canadian winter. The youth rubbed his mittened hands together, his smile widening as he saw the white Olympic symbol on the red fabric.
It was days like these, with the sky bright and beautiful, a perpetual tranquility in the air, and a reminder of his nation's triumphs directly on his fingertips, that Matthew Williams really loved being Canadian.
"Coach Matthew!"
The young man turned, pushing his glasses farther up his nose and lessening his wide grin to a gentler smile. "Hello there, Timothy," he said, waving cheerfully. "You're here early."
A young boy of about 10 or so beamed at Matthew, a gap-toothed grin faltering as he almost fell over under the weight of the hockey equipment he was carrying.
"I wanted to get extra practice in!" he explained breathlessly, "So I asked Bella to drop me off early!"
Matthew peered over the boy's shoulder, down the path that led from the street to the small frozen pond, and at the car currently parked there, where a woman was waving enthusiastically from the driver's seat. Matthew smiled. It was sweet that Bella took time out of her day to drive the boy to practice when his parents were at work, even if he never could get the Belgian woman to realize that he was twenty-one and not available for dating a woman in her mid-thirties, even if he was good friends with her younger brother.
Though he had to wonder, did his age really count considering how long he had been twenty-one?
"Well it's a good thing I always come early, eh?" chuckled Matthew as he rose from the bench and stretched, shivering slightly as his sweater lifted up and a cool breeze managed to blow up it. He really should have invested in a jacket, though he supposed a part of him was just curious as to whether or not he could actually freeze to death.
He definitely couldn't burn to death, but maybe freezing...?
"I wanted to work on my slapshot," said Timothy, staggering over to the bench and putting down his equipment before sitting down and unzipping the large hockey bag. "I want to surprise the others when they come! I want to be super awesome! So awesome that even Freddie can't stop my shot!"
Matthew's smile wavered, a slight twinge panging in his chest as Timothy was replaced with a vision of a young, blue-eyed boy with a cowlick and a determined, energetic expression on his face.
"I'll be your hero, Mattie! So don't worry, we'll stick t'gether!"
"Don't cry! Even if we're getting a new brother, you'll still be my awesome twin!"
"Arthur's so mean to us! It's 'cause we're younger isn't it! We're not that much younger...Hmph. Well, who cares about smelly old Arthur."
"Y'know Mattie…Arthur ain't so bad! He's actually really nice, an' lookit the toy soldier he gave me!"
"Wha-Matt? Didn't see you there! Hey, I gotta go. Arthur and I are going out for awhile. Just…y'know. Have fun here, alright?"
"I can't talk right now. Something's up with Arthur…I need to figure out…"
"Don't you understand, Matt? We need to do this for Arthur…he's our brother! You want to just leave him by himself?"
"You have to get stronger, Matt! How are you supposed to help Arthur if you can't even shoot someone?"
"Arthur's the most important person to me…the most important…"
"I have to leave…Mattie…I'm leaving…I just…I hate him…I hate him…"
"Goodbye...I'm sorry…I wasn't a good hero in the end, was I?"
"Coach Matthew?"
Matthew blinked rapidly, glancing down at Timothy, who was looking at him with a confused and worried expression. The blonde took off his glasses, rubbing at his eyes and cleaning the lenses with the inside of his collar.
"Sorry Timothy, I guess I'm a bit tired," laughed the young coach, smiling widely at his student, who beamed back. "Get your gear on and we'll start alright?" Timothy nodded excitedly and kicked off his boots, causing them to thud into the snow. He pulled his skates out of his bag and began tugging them on, a slight frown on his face as he tried to untangle the laces.
Matthew smiled fondly but was unable to truly enjoy the scene. He sighed, once again watching his breath ghost in the cold March air.
What a stupid time to be thinking of that idiot, thought the blonde somewhat bitterly, shivering and tucking his hands into his pockets.
He's dead anyways. What do I care?
Sherlock, England – January 2010
"Well, here we are. It's not much, but it's home."
Xiang's eyes flickered around the room, taking in everything from the décor and wallpaper to possible escape routes, all while still keeping his outwards appearance of complete apathy.
"It's nice," affirmed the Chinese teenager in his standard monotone. Gaze flicking upwards, he noticed the man's somewhat irritated expression at his lack of excitement and added: "And warm. It seems very homey."
The man's mouth quirked upwards and he sighed. "Enjoy that stoic act while you can, Xiang," he warned, glaring at him, "You'll find it impossible to maintain that façade around Heidi."
Xiang merely blinked in response, tilting his head in a confused manner. The entire situation honestly did confuse him. Vash was the man's name, and he lived with his younger sister in a small town in England. It was a very secluded place, surrounded by forests and the like, and the people seemed very…different than what he was used to.
Liars. Backstabbers. Murderers. Even in recent years, when he had no longer been working for England, his life had been filled with these. London wasn't a nice place, especially if you were a petite Asian boy who could pass for twelve on a bad day, and barely looked sixteen on a good day. Considering he had almost been seventeen when he had…stopped. It was a rather infuriating situation to be in. Especially when people constantly undermined him or treated him like he was as delicate as a flower because he was slim and young-looking.
If they knew he had lived for decades and had grown up as a master saboteur, would they still treat him as vulnerable jailbait?
"Heidi's at school right now," continued Vash, walking into the house and putting his coat on a stand near the door. "She's quite excited to meet you. It seems that she has always wanted a brother closer to her own age..."
What's so great about brothers? Thought Xiang as he slowly followed the man into the house, carrying his light suitcase easily. Mine never did me any good.
"I'll show you to your room. You can put your bag down and…rest…if you're tired…I could show you around the house if you really wanted me to..." mumbled Vash, averting his gaze and cheeks reddening, as if being charitable embarrassed him. The teenager maintained his bored expression, walking past the man towards the corridor he assumed led to his temporary living arrangements.
Xiang felt the slightest twinge of guilt as he heard Vash grumble behind him, but really, what was there to be guilty for? No use pretending with the man. All his generosity and supposed kindness -because he wasn't, and never would be, convinced that it was genuine-wouldn't be able to make him normal.
He wasn't fourteen like they had told him at the orphanage. He hadn't been fourteen for over seventy years. He would never look older than sixteen, never would be older than sixteen, and would never stay in one place for longer than two years.
What a curse…
Xiang closed his eyes, ignoring Vash's mumbling attempts to ask him if he needed anything.
China was wrong…there is a punishment for our sins…
Australian Outback- April 2010
It was hot.
The sun was blistering, causing the dry, flat landscape to waver and shift in the image of a mirage, waves of heat seeming to cause the very air to bend. The sky was unhelpful, not a single cloud covering the hateful star and leaving anything on the earth below completely helpless to its merciless rays.
The man rubbed at the bridge of his nose, wincing as he aggravated the sunburn under the bandage. Adjusting the sunhat so carefully positioned on his head, he wiped a bead of sweat from his brown and raised his rifle, peering into the scope with one eye shut and tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.
The Outback. A hotbed for death in the most excruciating ways possible. It was kind of hilarious, the vast amount of ways you could meet your end out here. Poisonous snakes, scorpions, spiders, dangerous beasts, wolverines, and dingoes. The stretches of land that went for miles and miles without any water in sight. No edible trees, grass, or anything that could sustain life. It was a wonder that Australian settlers had been able to survive a month out here, let along long enough to set up an entire country.
But that's the beauty of us, ain't it? Thought the Australian with a grin. Aussies can't be beat. Not a single bloke on this earth that can stand up to us!
He loved it. He loved the thrill of it. The thrill of being close to death with every move he made. Challenging death, challenging nature, challenging everything that had daunted humanity since the beginning of time; that was Joey Sanders's purpose in life. Named after a baby kangaroo, his Mum used to say that he must have been born one and been switched at birth. Joey had always considered it a compliment. He was an animal of the Outback and damned proud of it. Spitting in the face of danger was his life's calling, and hell if he gave a damn about the million ways you could die out here.
Of course, thought Joey with a small frown, the fun gets taken out of it a bit when you really can't die…
The man's thoughts were interrupted as he spotted something in the scope, and he automatically stiffened, tightening his hold on the gun and leaning in slightly. A grin spread across his face as he both saw and heard his quarry.
The distinctive hum of a jeep, of something that didn't belong, of an unwanted factor in Joey Sanders's Outback. A blemish, a scar, a completely unwanted entity in his wilderness.
It was just a stroke of luck that killing the Lair was his actual job. Bonus was that he'd enjoy it.
Joey watched the jeep come closer in his sights, narrowing his eyes in disgust at the three well-dressed men sitting it.
Who the hell wears a golf shirt in the fucking Outback?
Honestly.
Luck was on the Aussie's side. The men were driving in a line that wasn't far from the rock he was crouching behind. That way, he wouldn't have to run very far. He wasn't a fan of running. You missed too much if you went rushing about everywhere. And he wished that he didn't have to always attack from so bloody far away; he much preferred hand-to-hand combat. That way, it was more personal, and you could see the person you were beating the shit out of.
It let both of you know that you were still human.
Even if you were a creature of the outback at heart.
Closer…closer….
Damn that was disgusting. He could smell the fumes, clogging up the beautiful, dry air of his outback. Those dirty wheels digging tracks through his land.
Closer…..
There!
Two shots rang out, the noise echoing around the plains, and almost instantaneously, the jeep collapsed on the right side and began spinning out of control.
Joey grinned, putting down the rifle and leaping up, picking up two metal gauntlets from the ground and leaping over the rock, sliding down the hillside to where the jeep collapsed onto its side.
He hated fighting from far away, so he did the only conceivable thing. Shot out their tires so he could take the fight to them.
Joey grinned, pulling on the gauntlets and stalking across the plains, taking his time and breathing in the dusty Australian air. The targets were having trouble freeing themselves from the wreckage, and one was fumbling with a gun at his hip.
That could be problematic…thought Joey, If they shoot me, that might give them a bit of time to run away…ah, well. Running sucks, but hunts are always exciting.
Joey Sanders was an animal of the outback, a man who laughed in the face of death.
The principle is good, he thought to himself, smiling down the barrel of the gun with a distinctly demonic look.
Even if death isn't necessarily an option.
Dublin, Ireland – March 2010
"So tell me, are you lads in town for St. Pattie's day?"
The men sitting around the table looked up, casting glances at each other, before grinning up at the pretty waitress.
"Nah, bird," said a particularly roguish looking one, winking broadly. "We came in town simply ta see such a sweet lass as yourself."
There were hoots from the other men at his casual use of the less-then-respectful term, but the girl just giggled coyly, as if not understanding. The waitress took their drinks off of the serving tray and placed it before each of the men, smiling in the face of their lusty, mocking stares. Her long, dark brown pigtails drooped over her overly exposed chest, while her skirt rode up considerably as she bent over. There were several appreciative whistles, and the girl had to fight to keep the oblivious, ditsy look on her face.
Idiots…such idiots…
"So, do you know what you gentlemen would like to order yet?" she asked cheerfully, pulling out a notebook that had been conveniently situated between her breasts, and taking a pencil out of the waistband of her skirt, pulling up her shirt far more than necessary to reach it. Aware of their lusty stares, the girl had to fight to stop from rolling her eyes or sighing.
Gentlemen…puh-lease. This is insulting. Why do I do this again?
"Tell me, birdie," said the roguish one, leaning in close and beckoning her closer with his finger. She complied, keeping her eyes as wide and as empty as possible. "What say you and me go find a room somewhere, just the two of us?" he asked, grinning.
Oh yeah.
The young woman straightened up, blinking, as if confused, before smiling widely. "Sure! That sounds great! Let me just tell my boss!"
There were catcalls and jostling from the other men at the table, as well as jealous stares. The man who had 'scored' looked smug, leaning back in his chair and openly staring at the waitress's ass.
"Leaving again, Angelique?" asked the large African man sitting in a chair in the employee's room, watching the young woman who had just entered untie her apron and place down her serving tray. "I don't understand why you do this. It's not like you don't make enough money here."
Angelique hummed to herself, digging into a small knapsack on the floor and pulling out several long daggers.
Because…
"It's fun!" she said cheerfully, tucking the knives into various hidden crevices on her body, and ending with placing two red bowties on each of her ponytails, both with a vial of liquid attached to back of them. "And I hate men."
"You don't hate me," grumbled the man, flipping a page in the newspaper.
"I hate dirty men," corrected the tanned girl, adjusting her skirt. "And they're just.. .so easy…y'know? It's like a power trip. They're so easy to get rid of…and…and I'm keeping the streets safe. Keeping other girls safe," she said firmly, pausing with her hand on the doorknob.
"If you say so, Angel," mumbled the large black man, adjusting his glasses and turning the page again.
Angelique nodded, and then pushed the door open, ditsy smile back in place as she met the gaze of her quarry.
It's so easy…they never suspect a thing…and it's so easy…it's fun.
Seoul, South Korea, February 2010
The young man leaned against the wall, sitting with his knees up and his fingers drumming a rhythm on his thighs. His head swayed from side to side as he sang along to the song blasting from his headphones, a grin on his lips as he tapped his feet along to the catchy beat.
"Shawty, shawty shawty, Nuni busyeo busyeo busyeo. Sumi makhyeo makhyeo makhyeo, naega michyeo michyeo baby …"
He broke off into humming as the lyrics of the next verse escaped his memory, still swaying and tapping happily. Beyond the music from his iPod, he could hear the distinct sounds of the busy city. The cars rushing to and fro, horns honking. The constant hum of talking as people walked by on the crowded sidewalks, cell phones held to their ears and blackberries in hand. The distinctive titter of schoolgirls who had found the time to go shopping in the country's capital, cooing over some actor or some American singer. They walked like they were skipping, bouncing off the ground. The businessmen walking by with cumbersome briefcases had heavier, more hurried steps. Then the elderly, who walked at a slow, lolling pace. They were probably shaking their heads as they walked, exasperated by the carefree nature of the younger generation and wondering where the respect had gone.
The sounds of the city fit, and yet didn't fit, into the song that was still blasting in his ears, the electronic beat matching the mechanic honking of cars and the crash of machinery at nearby construction. However, the sounds that the city made were so distinct, so alive and vibrant with such a personal connection, that it was hard to find any type of track that would fit it.
Despite this, he smiled and continued to sway back and forth, tapping his feet and humming along to the song, fingers drumming faster and faster, no longer following the beat of the song, but the beat of the city he loved.
"Alright man, break time's over. Time to get up and get working!"
The youth's eyes snapped open, the connection interrupted by the demanding voice of a teenage boy. The youth pulled one headphone away from his ear and looked up with a pout, making wide eyes at the teenager standing over him.
"But Hyung…" he whined, "I've been working all day! I'm tired!"
"Get up, lazy," commanded the other teen with a stern look, pushing his glasses further up on his nose. "You agreed to help, so help! You've been on break for forever!" The other youth made a noise of protest as his friend pulled him to his feet, causing the headphones to slide off his head and around his neck and cutting his connection with the music all together. The sounds of the city reverberated in his ears, and he stood completely still for a moment, surrounded by the blanket of familiar noise and movement.
"Come on, Yong Soo," said the brunette, turning and beginning to walk towards the truck parked by the sidewalk, "We've got a lot of stuff to move in!"
Yong Soo blinked, gave his head a quick shake, and then grinned, adjusting the headphones around his neck.
"You got it, da ze~!" he exclaimed, pumping a fist into the air. "Helping friends move into new apartments totally originated from me!"
Yanaka-Tokyo, Japan, April 2010
The Cherry Blossoms were in bloom.
The young man looked up at them, blinking his large, dark brown eyes against the sunlight that was trickling from between the branches and the blossoms. The sakura were enchanting in the dying light, the hues of pink shifting to darker shades, to lighter shades, to shades with a tinge of red or orange to reflect the colours of the setting sun. Even the way the blossoms moved in the cool evening breeze was captivating. The way they swayed in the light draft was like dancing. The entire branch moving as one, but the blossoms moving as a thousand separate entities, each with their own separate motion, but all coming together to give a beautiful performance. A beautiful shifting of colours and dappling beauty.
He had missed the sakura. Though they grew in China, they never grew with quite the…magic that they did in his native land.
Sighing, the young man dropped his gaze. He was not here to idle his time away watching cherry blossoms, as much as he would like to. As he turned away from the tree, he had a strong urge to turn back and bow to it, feeling like it had performed an act of great charity by dancing so freely in front of him, and that it deserved the proper respect and appreciation in response. Shivers ran up his spine as a cool breeze blew down his collar, and he walked forward, not turning back towards the tree. Because while he loved the sakura and thought that giving respect when it was due was very important, Kiku Honda valued diligence above all else.
And right now, he had a job to do.
The young Japanese man continued walking down the empty street, keeping his gaze fixed solely ahead and not on the sakura trees that swayed and danced along the side of it. He kept his gaze away from the small, homely houses along the side of the street, preferring to avoid the feeling of disgust that was sure to arise at the sight of them.
Kiku had developed many quirks over the 100 years or so that he had been alive. Most of them stemmed from his more…unconventional upbringing in Tokyo during the early 20th century. A few more came from his deep nationalism and sense of spiritual pride with his home country. Others came from his personal affiliation with tradition. He was an old-fashioned man who disliked change and wrinkled his nose at the younger generation. He quite detested westernization and remembered wistfully the time before World War II. Before the military occupation of Japan which had brought about the more drastic changes.
Kiku sighed and adjusted the cuffs on his sleeves, straightening the black tie that fit so constrictively around his neck. He couldn't wait to return home. There, at least, he was free to wear his yukata without being accused of being old-fashioned.
The young man's stiff, measured walk brought him to the end of the street, where he regretfully brought his gaze up to look at the house that sat there.
It was a nicer house with a beautiful courtyard filled with lush grass and a garden of lilies. Kiku raised an eyebrow at the peeling paint and the splintering at the bottom of the door but walked forward down the path with an impassive expression on his face. While it might be his personal opinion that not having your home completely presentable at all times dishonoured your ancestors, he had come to recognize over the years, that it was no longer the opinion of many others.
I feel like such an old man, thought Kiku with a sigh as he knocked on the door. It's almost been a century now...really much too long a time to have lived…It is not within the capacity of the human spirit to bear witness to such heart-breaking change…
As he heard steps from inside the house, notifying him that the occupant had heard him, Kiku's gaze traveled upwards once more to the sakura trees that stood nearby, still swaying and dancing in the breeze.
At least, thought Kiku with a small smile, the cherry blossoms still bloom with beauty and honour.
Hanoi, Vietnam, June 2010
She was, and would perpetually be, surrounded by useless people. It was a fact that she had come to accept quite some time ago and a fact that she was reminded of as she watched the quivering flunky cower in front of her. He wasn't meeting her dark, steely gaze, hadn't even looked up from the floor once since being shoved in here. He was afraid, terrified, because he was useless.
She hated useless people.
Tapping her nails against the rice paddle that lay across her lap, the young woman waited for the man to explain himself, plead for forgiveness, whatever he felt would save his skin. She had the appearance of a fairly patient woman, though she was actually quite quick-tempered, and she preferred explanations and results to be yielded quickly and without pause. Waiting for the man in front of her to grow some balls was not something she had the tolerance for.
"State your business here," she commanded, shifting in the soft leather seat and folding one stocking-covered leg over the other, still tapping her nails against her rice paddle. "Or would you rather stay silent and allow me to get straight to the punishment?"
The man jerked as if electrocuted and slowly lifted his head, revealing a dirty, blood-smeared face and twitchy eyes that flickered from side to side as if searching for an escape route. The woman stifled a sigh as she saw how blood-shot his eyes were. As a rule, she tried to avoid having her subordinates on drugs. It was one thing to trade and sell them; it was another thing entirely to be a slave to them. She preferred to be the one controlling the drugs, not having the drugs control her, and she expected the same of anyone working under her jurisdiction.
Yet another example of the uselessness of other people.
"I-I am sorry, ma…" stammered the man, entire body shaking as he forced himself to meet her gaze. "M-my entire stock w-was confiscated…"
The woman's eyes widened and she sat up in her chair, ceasing her drumming on the rice paddle.
"By the police?" she asked sharply, eyes narrowing. The man's shaking increased and he once again lowered his head, nodding slowly.
The Vietnamese woman forced herself to relax, un-tensing her body and resuming the tapping of her nails against the rice paddle. She placed her elbow on the arm of the chair, leaning her cheek against her fist with an exasperated expression on her face.
"Yet…you managed to get away," she drawled, masking the irritation in her voice with an apathetic tone.
"Y-Yes, ma!" he exclaimed, looking up as hope and pride coloured his voice for the first time. "I did not allow them to capture me, and I-,"
"Fool."
The man faltered, hopeful look falling away as the ma of the organization wrapped her hand around the handle of her rice paddle and gave him her coldest glare, the normal deep brown gaze appearing coal black.
"M-ma?"
"What right did you have to escape?" she asked harshly. "You lost your stock to the police. You notified them to drug trade in that area, as well as costing us thousands of dollars. You increased the chances of other operatives being discovered, and then you had the audacity to come running back here. If you had been captured, you could have at least passed it off as if you were working alone, but by returning here, possibly trailed, you have endangered us all."
Not completely true. If the man had stayed with the police he might have been…persuaded to reveal certain locations and trade sites to them. No, it was better that he had returned so that she could…take care of him.
The man shook, dread falling upon him as he saw the oh-so-familiar merciless look in the woman's eyes.
Because if there was one thing Linh Hoang was known for, it was her lack of forgiveness.
Hadong-Hanoi, Vietnam- June 2010
He considered 'sadist' to be too crude a word.
It didn't quite capture the…beauty of his condition. It was fine to simply say, 'that man enjoys other people's pain', but it was more fitting to say, 'that man revels in seeing the blood of others spilled. The shades of red that glitter in the dying light when a drop falls. The dark surface of a growing pool. The numerous masks of agony, sadness, surprise, and horror that can be worn by the dead and dying. They all fascinate him and fill him with glee. He finds death captivating and torture an art, and nothing makes him smile more than the first cry of pain and the first drop of blood when the first cut is delivered.'
'Sadist' did not quite encapsulate all that he was.
Humming to himself, he walked through the small, slightly slum-like neighbourhood of Hanoi. The area wasn't too bad off, with the buildings and houses in decent condition and no sign of shady characters lurking around corners. Whether that was always the case or simply because of his presence there, he wasn't sure.
Really, he was probably thinking too highly of himself if he thought that it was simply his presence that was keeping the thugs away. In reality, it was most likely the presence of the entire organization. Ha Dong was one of the most used neighbourhoods and the one most firmly under Linh's control.
He grinned, glasses flashing in the sunlight.
How many years has it been? He wondered to himself, hands in the pockets of his expensive suit, Italian shoes clicking against the pavement. Decades…decades…I'ts been decades!
The grin widened, and the man gave a little skip as he walked, laughing out loud. He stood out, from his expensive suit, to the subtle features that distinguished him as not Vietnamese, to the perpetual smile and aura of giddiness that came from him.
He loved life.
And he especially loved that his life wouldn't end.
The man's jaunty walk and the happy tune he was whistling faded as something began vibrating in his pocket. Pausing, he tilted his head to the side and reached down, pulling a thin cell phone out of his pocket. The man held it in front of his face, peering at the characters on the screen with a surprised expression before grinning and flipping the device open.
"Hello, Phi Sao!" he chirped happily, "You don't often call me, ana~. Did you need something?" The man resumed humming as he held the phone to his ear and listened to the stern, tension-filled voice on the other end. A shocked expression flashed across his face, and he made a soft 'tutting' sound.
"Oh dear, ana~. The whole stock? That's horrible. So you want me to take care of it?"
The man's grin faded into a softer, more sinister smile as his contact continued explaining, his smile growing in size and intensity with each word..
"I see, ana~. Don't worry Phi Sao, Your awesome little brother Tai will take care of everything," he purred, his voice silky and reassuring. "I'll get your precious refined opium back from the police. No worries, ana~. And in return…"
Tai began walking again, turning so that he was moving in the opposite direction, walking at a slightly faster pace as anticipation rolled through his body.
"You'll let me play with the one who lost the drugs, right ana~? I can play with him?"
Tai's grin widened at the immediate response that came from the other end, and he couldn't repress the small giggle that erupted past his lips.
"Thank you very much, Linh-chi," he purred.
"Thank you very much, Vietnam."
Chaoyang-Beijing, China-November 2010
"Are you in town for awhile this time, Mei?"
The young woman looked up from the paper she was reading, putting down the teacup that she had been holding. She stared at the man who had asked her the question- a squat, middle-aged Chinese waiter- before sighing. She made a motion to rub her hand across her tired eyes but quickly stopped, blinking rapidly and returning her gaze to the paper on the table. The characters and numbers on the document swam in front of her eyes, and she wanted nothing more but to down the tea quickly in one gulp with a few Advil thrown in for good measure. But that wouldn't be proper. And it certainly wouldn't reflect well on her if she couldn't even stand the pain from a simple headache.
"I'm afraid not," she replied, taking a sip from her tea before once again placing it on the table. "I will only be in town for a short time. Just to conclude the business I have here."
"Every time I see you you're here for business," snorted the man, replacing the empty kettle on Mei's table with a new one full of steaming hot water. "Tell me Mei, do you ever do anything for pleasure?"
"My work is my pleasure," replied the Taiwanese woman automatically. "I live to ensure my boss is satisfied."
The man rolled his eyes, walking away with the empty kettle. "I'll have a waitress bring you your check in a few minutes, Mei. See you around, I guess."
Mei didn't look up from her papers, and she did not reciprocate the friendly parting wave that the teashop owner had given her. Instead, she focused her gaze on the documents in front of her and picked them up, glaring at them.
No matter how hard she looked at them, the numbers didn't make sense. She'd been alive for over 90 years, and she still couldn't quite wrap her head around math. Or anything related to numbers.
So, in retrospect, being the one to travel around Asia and keep a log of the cash flow and business dealings under China's regime was not the best job for her. In fact, it was probably the worst possible job for Mei Wang.
But that's how it's always been, reflected Mei glumly, It's always been like this for me…
Mei put the papers down, succumbing to her urges and rubbing the back of her hand across her blurry dark brown eyes. She sighed, and then looked down at the tea still sitting neatly on the table.
Without a second thought, she grabbed it and chugged it down, ignoring the screaming protest from her tongue as the hot liquid burnt her mouth.
Is this truly all I can do for you, zhang xiong? She thought despondently, placing the empty teacup back on the table, cheeks burning with shame at her momentary lack of control.
Over eighty years, and this is still all that I am worth to you?
Moscow, Russia-January 2011
There are many different types of silence.
There is the soft silence of a moonlit night, when the entire Earth is asleep and the only sound is the near noiseless whisper of the evening breeze.
There is the busy silence, of a calm summer day, where the hush is tampered by the almost imperceptible sounds of nature. Which, while quiet, are numerous.
There is the eerie silence of a dark forest, of a time or place where the lack of sound only means the lack of warning, the lack of knowledge of what is going on, the lack of awareness of potential danger. The silence that is a harbinger doom.
And then there is the loud silence. The silence that is so noiseless, so stifling, that you can hear the blood pounding in your ears, the constant thrum of your steadily quickening heartbeat, and the harsh, ominous pressure that grows greater and greater as the silence thickens and no noise dares disturbs it.
Toris swallowed and loosened his collar, feeling increasingly uncomfortable and hot in the awkward silence that had descended upon the room. Beside him, a young teenager with tousled blonde hair- Raivis was his name -fidgeted uncomfortably, casting nervous glances around the room and shivering. Next to Raivis was an intelligent looking man with glasses who was furiously working away on his palm pilot. Toris knew him as Estonia. He didn't work enough with the man to know him personally or by anything other than his codename. He didn't work very much with Raivis either, but, like himself, the teenager was often kept close to the boss, and the two of them often encountered each other- enough times for Latvia to have revealed himself as Raivis Galante.
On the other side of the table sat two women. Toris knew them as Ukraine and Belarus, sisters of 'the boss.' They all shared the unique white-blonde hair and rather imposing presence. Even Ukraine, who never hesitated to give Toris a warm smile when she saw him, was menacing in her own way. Because Toris had seen her wear that same soft, semi-apologetic smile while firing a semi-automatic.
Then there was himself, Toris Laurinaitas. Known here as Lithuania.
He'd been given that name five years ago, when he had first joined this odd little group. 'A group for reform, change, and the greater good.' That was what it had been called. Toris could still remember the excitement he had felt when he had received an email, an actual, direct, email, from the one known as 'Mother Russia'. The one whose online articles he had been following for years. The one whose ideas of reforming not only Russia but his home country Lithuania, Poland, where he had grown up, and all of the surrounding countries, had captivated him and completely changed his life.
He had been ecstatic when he'd been asked to join, even though it meant leaving behind his closest friend and his adoptive family. The chance to change the world! The chance to put all the things he had preached about, all of the things he wanted into practice…
The chance of a lifetime.
And now, five years later…
Toris jumped slightly at the sound of a door opening. Beside him, Raivis jumped even higher and let out a shrill squeak. Across the table, Belarus shot them both a look of annoyance. The small teenager recoiled and sank down into the red suit he was wearing, trembling more than ever as tears formed in his eyes. Toris felt a stab of pity for the young boy but was momentarily mesmerized by the way Belarus's blue-violet eyes sparkled in their anger.
As scary as she was, the young woman was quite charming.
The sound of footsteps once again directed Toris's attention to the door at the far side of the room, and his breath caught in his throat as he saw who had entered, the foreboding silence once again falling upon the room and threatening to smother him.
"Ah, the whole family is here, da?" said Russia happily, clasping his gloved hands together. "We can begin immediately then. This is good."
Begin what? Thought Toris, an uncomfortable feeling cumulating in his stomach as he saw the happy light in Russia's purple eyes. What exactly is it that you've been preparing for?
Because five years later, Toris felt as if he didn't know anything anymore. He didn't know what Russia stood for, he didn't know what Russia wanted, and he really didn't know if the aims of this entire organization were what he wanted. The ends no longer appeared to justify the means.
And the means were getting progressively worse.
"Little Lithuania, you are listening, da?"
Toris jerked upwards in his seat and felt a cold sweat break out over his body as Russia's chilly, violet eyes centered on him.
"Y-yes, sir!" stammered the brunette, averting his eyes quickly.
He was scared. He was scared of this man. This man whom he had devoted the past five years of his life to. Even more than that, if he counted the years he had religiously followed the his articles. Russia terrified him. Even more so due to the fact that the imposing man seemed to truly like Toris in some strange way.
Which made even considering leaving that much more impossible.
"That is good~!" said Russia in that happy, singsong tone his voice often took. He walked around the table, bypassing the chair beside Belarus (much to her displeasure) and sitting beside Toris. The Lithuanian swallowed at the sudden mass of warmth by his side and wilted under the jealous glare of the girl across the table.
He should have been used to this routine by now but really, he wasn't.
"As I was saying," continued Russia with a smile, "We have been working hard to help rebuild and reform our dearest country, correct? To try and inform the people of the corruption in the government, to try and rally support against the unjust laws…to try and bring life back to Russia. But, you see, this is completely useless if we don't destroy these problems at their root, da? I apologize, I have not been completely honest with you. This fight that you have joined me in, it stretches much longer into the past then you could possibly imagine, and involves many countries other than Russia. Our enemy is not just the government, but also the people who wrecked the government in the first place.
Two people….just two people who completely destroyed this country. Two untouchable people who have gone through their lives doing whatever they pleased on this Earth because there was nothing that could remove them from this Earth. They played for decades, and then they fell silent. And now, it looks like they are planning to play again. According to this."
Russia pulled a piece of paper out of his coat pocket, humming to himself as he unfolded it slowly. With painstaking precision, he smoothed out the edges and laid it flat on the table. Toris leaned over cautiously, and he raised an eyebrow as he saw the emboldened headline.
KIRKLAND COMPANY EXPANDS INTO RUSSIA. CAN THE RECOVERING COMPANY SURVIVE SUCH A BOLD MOVE?
"Are you following?" asked Russia suddenly, causing Toris to jump back in surprise.
"Do you understand? I trust you all now, very much. So I am willing to tell you this secret, most important part of our plan. To save our country, we must destroy the people who destroyed it in the first place. And take from them what allowed them to do such damage. So, my dearest family…" Russia tilted his head to the side, eyes sparkling almost mischievously. Toris was once again torn from his thoughts, and he looked up at the man sitting beside him.
"The time has finally come…" he continued, grin widening.
"For us to secure the secret to immortality."
/
The city was busy, cars rolling up and down the street and people walking along the sidewalks, struggling with bags or merely moving quickly to reach their destination. There was a general hum of excitement about. The country was finally getting back on its feet after the dreadful economic slump that had left millions unemployed. Now, life had returned to the city and once again, the street corners were adorned with peddlers, newspaper vendors, people selling all manor of food and people just milling about, enjoying life.
The number of cars on the street was more numerous now, as previously they had been somewhat scarce, people not having enough money to maintain themselves and a vehicle. Even so, the cars that had now found their way onto the road were not in the best condition.
Which was why, in theory, it wasn't such a surprise that one had blown a tire, spun out of control, and crashed into a newspaper stand.
"Didja see that!"
"Holy jumpin- what happened?"
"Is anyone hurt? Make way! Someone call the cops!"
Somewhere amidst the wreckage of the newspaper stand, a young man blinked his eyes open. There was a dull throbbing pain throughout his body, and he kinda felt like his leg might be bent in a way that it shouldn't.
Aw hell, he thought with a sigh, noticing the blood that had begun pooling beside his head, of all the darndest luck…
The youth attempted to move his body, but a sharp pain had him recoiling and gritting his teeth, his head rolling over to face the other way. His eyes blinked open again, and he noticed a few newspapers that had fallen close to his face, all with the same heading.
GERMAN TANKS ROLE INTO POLAND! BRITAIN AND FRANCE DECLARE WAR ON GERMANY! WAR IN EUROPE HAS OFFICIALLY BEGUN!
Despite the pain, the young man's lip curled up in disgust.
Who the hell gave a damn about Europe? More specifically, who the hell gave a damn about Britain?
"Oi! There's a guy under there! Someone help us move the car!"
The youth sighed again, wincing as whatever was on top of him shifted, relieving some of the pressure on his torso. The car- as he now guessed it was -had been pushed up onto the newspaper stand…which had also collapsed on top of him. So now, he was pinioned under broken wood from the newspaper stand with the top of the car hanging precariously over him, wheels dangling in the air. The bottom half of the car still seemed to be crushing his legs, but at least he could move his upper body.
Wait, why could he move his upper body? Shouldn't it be all…squashed?
The youth pushed himself upwards, head scraping the newspaper stand as he heard the struggles of the men trying to move the car. Puzzled, he looked down at himself. His clothes were ripped and dirty, but there was no sign of any injuries. In fact….
The young man lifted a hand hesitantly and ran it through his hair before holding it up in front of his face.
No blood. The hot liquid that had moments ago been seeping out of his skull had disappeared.
"Come on guys! There's a fellow American under there! Get that car up!"
The youth yelped in pain as the weight was completely removed from his legs, and he rapidly blinked at the stream of light that had filtered into his coffin of wood and metal.
Than he paused.
Then he stared.
The young man watched in fascination (and horror) as his legs simultaneously twisted and turned, the white that had been protruding form the flesh popping back in, and the blood that had seeped from the wounds retracting, the liquid being completely absorbed out of the cloth of his pants. The bones realigned themselves, and he watched through a tear in his pants as the flesh across his knee knitted itself together.
What the flying fu-
"Heave!"
The car that had been lifted was flung to the side, and the young man found himself coughing at the amount of dust and dirt it sent up into the air as it hit the ground. Rubbing the grit out of his eyes, the youth found himself staring up at a crowd of people, their faces full of worry and horror…then confusion….then shock.
Alfred F. Jones rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly before pushing the remains of the newspaper stand off of himself and getting to his feet. Completely uninjured.
"Erm…," he said, laughing nervously. "Hero's luck?"
New York City, United States of America- September 4th, 1939
/
Please stick around! This is going to be one monster of a story and it's really going to pick up and get convoluted and interesting. Things aren't going to make much sense for awhile because I'm evil, but that's part of the fun. :3
Oh, this fic was inspired by the anime/manga/novel Baccano. It's not a retelling of it or anything, but some elements will be the same. E.g. Crime families, immortality, exceptionally irritating back and forth timeline...
:3
Please review! I've got a lot of chapters pre-written, so updates depend on the response! Shower me with love! This story is my baby and I've been working on it for over a year!
xoxo, natcat5 ;p
/
Chapter 2: A long time ago, in a Galaxy far, far away…Or rather, 90 years ago, in Japan….