The steal pipe collided with Alfred's face one last time before toppling him to the ground. He struggled, grimacing at the pain as he pulled himself up on his elbows and turning over in an attempt to stand. Ivan grinned, his features deformed in the harsh expression. Taking his tool, he swung down, cracking on Alfred's back, making him collapse once again. The wet slab was cold against his skin. He could feel the blood, trickling down his broken body.
Ivan's laugh was dark as he spoke, circling the fallen man, "America, Land of the free, Home of the brave," he mocked, his thick Russian accent pronounced in every word. He stopped his steps, a mockingly curious look crossed his ruthless features, "You know, I thought America was supposed to be strong?" Alfred struggled to push himself up on his hands, his arms trembling under his own weight. Ivan looked down at him idly, using his foot to push the man back over on his side.
Alfred clenched his teeth. Unable to see straight he could barely make out the figure above him as it got closer. He could feel Ivan's breath in his face as the man's was only inches from his own now.
"Don't mess with me Alfred. People fear for a reason, don't make that mistake." A hateful look stained Alfred's face as he glared in the direction of the man above him, the urge for vengeance blazing in his clear blue eyes.
Ivan stood once again. He eyed the ground before turning and walking off, crushing the the square frame glasses under his heavy steps.
Alfred lay there motionless, his head throbbing from the blow and his body aching. His breathing was steady, though he was sure he lost a lot of blood. After a while he could feel the soft vibrations of his cell phone going off in his pocket and he squeezed his eyes shut, a new anger welling up in him.
The Russian man had expressed to him before, that it was his intention to leave the United States to it's own, that it was merely Canada that he wanted. An easy target. But it was not Alfred's intention to let his brother go, even for his own country.
He struggled again, pushing himself carefully on his hands but the pain assured him that he could not. Forcing itself back through his body and he collapsed once again, fading slowly from consciousness.
Francis paced Alfred's family room frequently. It was most unlike him and he knew it, but he didn't stop, his nerves were on high and he couldn't think straight. Arthur grumbled under his breath before shouting at the man.
"Will you stop that you frog, your making me nervous!"
Francis looked at him, not a bit surprised by his outburst, "I can't help it," He admitted, "I just can't sit still."
"Shouldn't someone try calling him?" Antonio pointed, a clever smile crossing his face, though concern was clear in his dark green eyes.
"I have tried," Kiku stated quietly. Everyone turned to him quickly, anticipation on each of their faces. The young man shook his head, "He will not respond." Vince frowned, grumbling to himself.
"You are all a bunch of pansies," He declared, earning everyone's attention, "You cower here while he's probably hurt somewhere. I'm going find him!" A horrified realization filled the expressions of half the countries in the room.
Arthur stood from where he sat, "Your just looking for a fight, aren't you?" He shouted in agitation.
"Maybe I am!" Vince announced.
"Don't be ridicules," Roderich said calmly, shoving the dutch boy back into his seat, "All we need is to worry about you too. Japan," Kiku looked up and at the Austrian, "Call Matthew will you?" Kiku nodded and returned the phone to his ear.
Matthew jumped slightly, not expecting the loud vibration on the table in front of him as he cell went off. Glancing down at the caller ID he let out a sigh. Alfred F. Jones was printed across the glowing screen.
"Hello?" He questioned softly.
"Hello, Matthew?" came the unexpected Asian voice on the other line. Matthew sat quietly for a moment. "Hello?"
"Oh give me that!" Came a faint noise before a different voice took over the phone call. "Matthew are you there?" It demanded.
"Arthur? What are you..." He was quickly interrupted by the Brit on the other end.
"Where is Alfred? Tell me you know where Alfred is!" He begged urgently, his desperate voice sounding unfamiliar with the strong nations usual discontent for America.
"Alfred? What about Alfred, what happened?" Matthew quickly straightened.
"Aw bloody hell!" Arthur shot, "Listen, he went to make sure you were alright! Are you alright?"
"Well, yea," Matthew hesitated, concern filling his thoughts, "What's happening?"
"Russia..." Matthew dropped the phone, not even allowing Arthur to finish his sentence before he jumped up. Grabbing his coat, he sprinted out the door, not bothering to lock it in his urgency.
"Matthew? Hello? Matthew!" Arthur looked down at the phone. He placed it back on the hook and turned back to the other anticipating countries.
"He's not there is he?" Heracles asked quietly, his voice and expressions unreadable.
Arthur shook his head with some reluctance, "No, and Matthew dropped his phone." A silence filled the room, taking the group by morbid surprise.
Arthur let out an aggravated groan before storming out the front door and slamming it behind him.