A/N: Hello! This is my first Hetalia fanfiction! For those who don't know me, expect slowish updates! For those who do, welcome back and thanks for reading!
I really hope that I can get most of the characters in-character! I've never written most of them before! I apologise if some of them do seem OOC though.
So, this is very loosely based on the world of Bioshock, the game owned by 2K Boston. I tried to avoid using any of the original Gene Tonics and Plasmid names. I tried avoiding any original names, basically.
Copyright of Hetalia belongs to our missing Hima. The loosely based universe of Bioshock belongs to 2K Boston, as stated above.
Anyways, to the story!
The year is 1970, and the location is unknown to the general public. For the sake of the story, the location is under the rolling waves of the Atlantic Ocean. Below the ocean is a society away from society; a civilization that is considered far superior to that of the general population. Below the ocean is the dream shared by two men now well into their seventies.
Beneath the depths of the ocean is the dilapidated dream the two men shared way back when the 1940's were just beginning.
The war is on in full underneath the surface of water that is known as the Atlantic Ocean. There is no government involved, and no countries to ally with. There are only the civilians and their beliefs, as well as technology, medicine, and intelligence that surpassed that of the average surface dweller's material. Things that are being discovered and created up top have been exceeded above and beyond below the Atlantic Ocean.
This utopia was called Pangaea, and like many other civilizations filled to the brim with powerful, superior beings, it fell.
What was once the hippest, hottest mall filled with only the highest class of fashion was now a deserted war zone, only useful for scavenging. The market where farmers would gather to sell high quality produce had been ransacked before the war had reached its peak, while the theater that all would gather to when a new production was released had long ago collapsed in on itself. The grand hotel had lost the ten highest floors and had begun to sink in, making it perfect for a group of rebels to move in. The rebels that occupied this hotel had an unspecified number of years before they were forced to evacuate and locate a new hideout.
In the lobby, a group had gathered round a table as the man in charge pointed to a blood stained, tattered map of Pangaea in its heyday, gesturing to the locations and giving out instructions.
"Watch out for Gilbert," Romulus informed them. "I'm expecting old man Adalbert to drop dead any day now, so no doubt Gilbert'll be his heir. Special training and all that. I'm sure he's dosed him up with a few strong Gene Swaps by now."
The leader of their enemy was as old as Romulus, after all. They figured the only thing keeping their old man fighting was his determination to see his creation stay alive. Then again, the only thing keeping their enemy's leader alive was probably the same reason. Between the two creators of Pangaea, the two probably wanted to see who would come out on top.
"We'll attack from three sides, hopefully scattering or backing them into a corner," Romulus continued, drawing lines with his fingers to show the directions they would be taking.
"From the East we need Toris, Heracles and Mathias. West will be Berwald and Yong Soo. Yong Soo will draw them out and keep look out; Berwald will close in on them and take them down. At the front lines will be Antonio and Francis. Alfred and I will follow behind when you've secured the area so we can swoop in and snatch the Revive Chamber." His wrinkled old hands slammed down on the table in finality as his gaze swept across the group's faces.
Another hand slammed down to join his, capturing everyone's attention from Romulus'.
"Actually," the blonde, blue eyed male spoke up confidently. "We'll flank Antonio and Francis rather than stay behind them. If we flank their side, we can take care of whatever the East and West don't cover, while keeping them covered at the same time."
The older man beamed, despite being corrected. He doted heavily on the young man, and most was positive he'd be named Romulus' heir once he passed. That is, if they weren't out to the surface after today's mission.
"Of course, Alfred," he said, "you just might be getting smarter than this old man."
No one objected to the new plan as it didn't directly involve them. The remaining members were either there to keep watch over the base, or were to follow the main assault groups as backup.
An auburn haired young man stood to Romulus' right, glaring at Alfred as he was praised.
"Why am I always part of either the guard group or the scavenger group?" he demanded, placing his own hand on the table next to Alfred's and Romulus'.
As though they'd had this conversation many times, Romulus gave a weary sigh.
"Lovi, it's for your own safety," he explained. "You and Feliciano will be safest in the base."
The oldest grandson gave a menacing snarl, his expression twisting from jealousy. He locked eyes with his grandfather, then to Alfred.
"I can help you! I'm your grandson! I should be at the front lines with you!" he declared, looking around the room for support. No one attempted to make eye contact with him, frustrating him as Alfred became the star of the show once again. When no one made an effort to back him up once more, Lovino stormed off, exiting their planning room.
Clearing his throat to return the attention back to him, Romulus continued to deal out instructions, keeping a handful of them at the perimeter of the base, and the rest to go for back up. With Alfred's suggestions, they worked out their plan for the Raid and prepared for battle.
Weapons were obtained; knives and smaller tools were hidden beneath clothes, and Communicators were equipped. They gathered at the door and reviewed the plans once more.
As they stood outside in the light of the setting artificial sun, Alfred looked to the group, smiling to himself as he realized how much they all meant to him. It wasn't every day they went off to steal directly from the Order. This was for the greater good of them all.
Romulus gave the signal and everyone took off. Alfred never ceased to be amazed as he watched the scattering of their members. He also never ceased to worry as he wondered who would come back safely, or who would not come back at all. If this mission was successful, he would never have to worry about it again.
Once Antonio and Francis had a head start, Romulus nodded, and the two went off. Romulus to the far left, and Alfred to the far right.
The distance between the base and the Order's headquarters was quite far, with a few old shopping malls and living distracts between them. Midway, gunfire was already heard. Alfred and Romulus stopped as they heard the rapid gunfire and the constant beeping from the droids sent out.
The screaming was always the worst. Or maybe it was the smell of burning flesh. Alfred shuddered as the smell of charred skin drifted in as he and Romulus got closer. He could see Romulus on his left, dodging between the ruins of old houses, shooting at a flying droid, bringing it down in a flurry of smoke and sparks.
As he brought his attention back to the front, he reacted instantly as a few men in uniform charged at him from around a corner, guns ablaze. Thinking quickly, he grabbed for what he assumed was a chunk of building and held it between him and the bullets, taking a wild guess at their locations and charging forward, stopping when he rammed into a standing wall of a building. He had crushed two men between the rock and the wall. He was glad he hadn't heard them scream.
The remaining few had been smart enough to get out of the way and stood to the side, reloading their guns before continuing fire.
Sucking up any doubt or hesitation, Alfred raised both of his hands, palms outward and facing the men. He winced as he felt bullets graze and nick his skin, feeling a few sparks sizzle out where the bullets crossed.
Lightning danced at his fingertips, bright, shimmering blue sparks flickering and fizzling in and out of existence. One short burst from both of his palms and the men standing at his side were crying out, seizing as the lightning struck them and stopped their hearts.
The smell of burning flesh reached his nose but he ignored it and carried on, trying to keep pace with Romulus. Once in a while he could hear Romulus firing the machine gun, followed by the explosion of a machine, or the cries of men.
He passed corpses and debris of buildings or machines, avoiding the human corpses and kicking chunks of metal out of the way. He treaded cautiously, listening past the gunfire for approaching Order members. He ran into very few strays and took care of figures off in the distance that threatened to overwhelm his companions. He worried little for the enemies in front as Antonio and Francis were very good at what they did, especially working together.
By the time the Order's headquarters came into sight, Antonio and Francis were running around up front, avoiding bullets and bursts of fire, ice, or water. Together, the duet used each other's abilities to boost their own; Antonio dancing in a whirlwind of flames, and Francis, dashing with the current of wind, occasionally crossing paths to create a fire wall. Alfred was pretty sure he'd never not be impressed with the effortless grace the two could perform together.
Romulus aided them where he could, firing shots into the flurry of enemies while avoiding hitting his own comrades. Alfred added his electricity to the mix, shooting down flying machines or stunning opponents. He began to grow cocky as wave after wave of man and machine were felled to their strength, and gradually trickled down in size and number. He could feel the others growing in confidence as everything went according to plan, and as the masses of the Order dwindled down to the point of retreat, Alfred and the rest of the Resistance took a step forward.
"Let's move in!" Romulus commanded, gesturing for their troops to continue forward.
Antonio and Francis took the lead, panting lightly while patting their bodies down to check for injuries. Using Energy tended to make one a bit numb and unaware of how badly their condition could be until the adrenaline rush had died down. Behind them followed Romulus and Alfred, and together they walked right through the Order's front door.
"We're in. Group E and W, how are you doing?" Romulus asked into the Communicator, keeping his voice low and his guard up.
Soon enough, the radio crackled in. The groups that had invaded from the east and west of the building were just finishing up and making their way in.
"Excellent, keep up the good work. At this rate we'll be done in a half hour or so," the old man said, grinning. He tucked the radio away, reloading while he had the chance. He didn't know when a new wave could approach them, especially as they walked down the narrow corridor. Antonio had to hold his large ax a certain way to allow another to fit beside him.
As they walked down the silent hall, the group came to a stop as each individual gradually became aware of a repetitive tapping sound.
"Do you hear that?" the dark haired Spaniard asked, turning around, scanning the hall carefully.
"Oui, but of course," Francis replied, brow furrowing in concentration. He brought a hand up to stroke his stubble covered chin. "From behind us, though. A surprise attack?"
Alfred shook his head, turning his best ear in the direction that the Frenchman was sure the steps approached from.
"One person," he informed them, wondering what sort of idiot would attempt to charge in after them. "It can't be one of ours, no one radioed in."
After a moment more of pondering, the quick steps grew louder, signaling the distance shortening between them.
"We should probably get ready for an attack," Romulus suggested thoughtfully, pulling his gun up from its resting position. The Spaniard set his weapon down, flames flickered on his finger tips while electric sparks fizzed in and out on Alfred's. A light breeze came from Francis' balled fists.
The one approaching would just need to turn the corner to receive a face full of power, so they waited, holding their breath as the steps slowed and a light gasping was heard.
The pace had slowed to a walk, giving them a longer wait for the figure to turn the corner.
"Hello?" a familiar voice called out timidly, a head of auburn hair peeked around the corner.
The shock of Lovino's appearance kept the group quiet until they realized the danger the Italian grandson had just placed himself in.
"Lovino!" Romulus hissed, putting his gun down. The rest of the group let their guard down, dispelling the sparks, wind and flames. "You! You aren't supposed to be here!" The older man seemed to be at a loss for words, unsure how to reprimand his young grandson while on a mission.
The nervous boy instantly morphed into one of annoyance and jealousy.
"I did this all by myself, Nonno!" he nearly shouted, causing the rest to wince. Undoubtedly the Order knew they were in their base by now, but they didn't know where. Raised voices were sure to draw attention instantly. "Why won't you let me prove myself? You let these jackasses take all the credit with yourself. I want to help, too!"
Antonio stepped past Francis and Alfred, glaring sternly at Lovino.
"Lovi, you really shouldn't be here. Your grandfather does it for your own good."
"No, you shut up, farmer bastard," he spat venomously. "You always get the spotlight right next to obnoxious bastard."
"It isn't about a spotlight. We're doing this for the greater good."
"I don't want to be treated like a kid! Stop underestimating me!"
"You guys are rising in volume," the Frenchman hissed at them, "time to quiet down so we don't get caught!" He stepped up behind Antonio and clasped his hand over his mouth before the other had a chance to retort.
Romulus sighed as he looked between his grandson and one of his best men.
"Take him ho-" he began, only to be cut off as bullets filled the corridor. The group cried out as the bullets caught them off guard, a few dipping into their skin.
Francis lifted his hands off of Antonio's mouth, spinning around and whipping up a gust of powerful air to deflect the second round of bullets.
Antonio spun around, fists already bathing in fire as he sent out a line of wicked flame. The devilish flame licked up the walls and down the corridor, melting the machines and quickly setting the humans to a screaming, rolling mess. As he turned about face he snatched his weapon that he had leaned against the wall.
The group quickly retreated from the hall, heading back the way they came. If there were more on their way then a single hall bathing in fire wasn't going to stop them from getting around. They would need more space.
"Antonio, not smart," Francis scolded, running alongside his friend.
"Lo siento," he apologized, laughing a bit as he pushed Lovino faster. "Next time I'll think a bit smarter when I'm being shot at."
"Are you kidding?" Alfred butt-in, looking ahead to the Spaniard. "You, thinking? Quickly?"
"Idiots! Why are we chatting like we're running away from a high school prank?" Romulus shouted at them, though all in good humor. For an older man his physical activities were above and beyond even some of their younger members.
The entrance came into view quickly, but as they peered out the door it became very evident that they were surrounded. They had few other choices but to slow to a stop with their backs to the hallways. Romulus fumbled around for his Communicator, dumbstruck as he observed the scene before him.
"Guys?" he radioed in. "Where are you?" He released the button, waiting for a response.
"This is Mathias from East Team," came the first response. "We're out of the building, hit a dead end and had to back it up. West Team is here, too. We see the gathered lot out front. Where are you?"
"Yong Soo from West group," the second response answered. "Had to retreat. Too many people where we came in. Grouped up with East group right away. Now what?"
"We need the both of you to help out with the group in front, you hear?" Romulus growled into the Communicator. He was nervous, otherwise he wouldn't sound so demanding.
"Already planning on it," Mathias answered.
"Berwald just ran for them," Yong Soo replied.
The group wasn't sure what they were expecting once the two groups had alerted them that they had already made to clear up the group obstructing their way out. All they saw was a geyser of water shoot up, lifting a few men high into the air before bringing them back down. From where they stood in the doorway, a geyser was shot from the side, knocking down a row of men and bots.
Only after did they see the column of enemies topple did Mathias and Heracles appear, one swinging a large ax wildly into the crowd, cheering loudly like some sort of Viking. His partner was a tad quieter, shooting off streaks of lightning to accompany the geysers flowing up from the ground.
Berwald came into view next, placing trap after trap on the ground, scattering the troops. Behind him Yong Soo shot round after round from a small pistol, taking down men slower than the Gene Swappers did.
While the newcomers had drawn away the attention from the mass of enemies awaiting their exit, it had also drawn their attention away from any possibility of people behind them.
"Hey, guys," a smooth voice announced from behind them.
Romulus turned around quickest, lifting his gun to sit eyelevel with the albino man that had approached them alone. The rest of the group quickly diverted their attention from the commotion going on outside the building, ready to attack the second the heir of the Order's command so much as sneezed.
"We meet face to face once more, Gilbert," the man greeted, tipping the gun's nozzle as though one would tip a hat. "It's been a while. Ten years, I think?"
Smirking, the red eyed man shrugged nonchalantly, waving his gun around carelessly.
"Maybe. I don't really care. I'm not here for what you think," he began, dropping the gun to the floor, causing a flinch to pass through the five of them. He kicked it towards them, placing his hands in the air in the universal gesture of surrender.
Despite this, Romulus, nor the others, dropped their guard. They looked from the discarded gun to the man surrendering.
"What are you playing at?" Romulus seethed, narrowing his eyes. His gun lowered ever so slightly, not leaving the target, but not obscuring their eye contact.
"Nothing, nothing." An obnoxious snicker escaped the other's lips, certainly not helping the suspicion devouring him. "I quit, see? I don't want to play this side anymore. It sucks."
His words confused the lot of them, and very obviously he was severely doubted. No one moved, save for Gilbert putting his arms down to rest. Giving up was hard work on the arms.
"This isn't a game, you kn-" Alfred started.
"I suppose we could use him as a prisoner of war, whether or not he's being honest," Francis suggested quickly. "You're the heir after Adalbert dies, right?" He waited for the casual shrug of confirmation from the young man before them. "Then why would you give yourself up?"
"I just said, I quit, and this side is sucking really hard. It's not awesome, y'know?" he responded, as though the answer ought to be obvious. "My brother can have the position. He'd be better at it, except I don't think you want that, really. Either way, old man Adalbert will kick the bucket sooner or later, and I'd rather not be around when he does. Seriously, the job would be annoying, and I'm too awesome to be stuck doing desk work and strategy planning."
They looked at him as though he were crazy, which he probably was. They remained skeptical as to any seriousness the albino could possess for the situation, and whether or not he was intending to infiltrate their base by 'quitting.'
"Um, okay, Antonio, Francis, you can take care of him. I don't trust him," Romulus instructed, backing up from Gilbert. "Wait, no. Will you help us fight?"
Gilbert brightened up and pumped a fist in the air.
"You'll win because I'm here!" he cheered, running at the group. He startled them slightly by the sudden movement, but as he ran past them and out into the fray, electricity shot from his hands and targeted the Order members.
"Do you think he's serious?" Alfred asked no one in particular. Watching the now former-heir of the Order fight for their side was bizarre. No doubt he would have been a rough opponent against them though.
"Bossman?" the radio crackled in, amplifying the battle sounds through the Communicator. "Gil's here. What do we do?" Though it was Mathias speaking through the Communicator, they couldn't see him. At least not from where they stood.
Hesitating, unsure what sort of order he should be giving about Gilbert Beilschmidt, Romulus finally responded with, "Watch your back, but he seems to be on our side. Don't attack him unless he attacks any of ours."
Turning to his grandson, he gazed at him sternly, still not happy about how he had followed them in.
"Lovino, stay close to me, you understand? Boys, back me up. Keep Lovino safe," he demanded, waiting for his young grandson to nod meekly. With that, Romulus charged into battle, firing at whoever had turned attention to them. Behind him Alfred, Francis, and Antonio attempted to keep the attention off of Romulus and Lovino.
As far as Alfred was aware, they were fighting to make a clean get away, so taking out everyone as soon as possible was a must. Admittedly, with Gilbert on their side some of the opponents were shocked into distraction, leaving them open, easy targets, all of which Gilbert took down mercilessly. He fought ferociously, as though eager to prove his loyalty. If his story was the real deal, that is to say. Alfred didn't trust him as far as he could throw him.
Alfred kept close to Romulus as instructed, while Antonio and Francis worked better taking care of enemies from a distance. Antonio's method of attack when he wasn't using his halberd was dangerous to be around for friend and foe alike. Not that he did it on purpose, but it was better to be able to stay clear of him at all costs. Francis wasn't nearly as dangerous to be near when he was fighting, but he had learned to adapt to the way Antonio fought, since they often worked together to work off of each other in battle.
Somehow the albino had made his way into the duet's style, inserting himself and creating a trio. The two were thrown off for the briefest moment as he joined in with them, but soon grew accustomed to the seemingly tactless style of fighting the lightning-user possessed; occasionally even getting a use out of the streak of lightning he would send out from his hands.
"Romulus!" he called, looking for the older man and his grandson. He spotted the two fighting their way through the crowd, Romulus shooting with a desperate sort of aim to get Lovino out as quickly and safely as possible.
Lovino was not a traumatized child who had glorified battle in vain, but an inexperienced fighter was an inexperienced fighter. Perhaps Romulus was to blame. Maybe he should have allowed him to practice more than just on still targets back at the base. The Italian could fire the gun with no problems. Working a gun was not a difficult task for him.
Firing at a real human being was, though.
Machines were taken out with little hesitation, but when a man approached him, whether he threatened him with a gun full of bullets, or a fist full of fire, Lovino hesitated, calling out for Nonno to help. Every time he gave a small wail of surprise, Romulus would look back at him, first looking to the enemy, taking him out quickly, and then looking to the wide eyed expression of his young grandson.
In one instance, Romulus turned too late, attempting to reload with the few remaining bullets he had left. Lovino found himself turning too slowly as well.
While Lovino had been shooting down a flying turret bot, a quick thinking Order member darted through the crowd, keen eyes having spotted the older man struggling to replace the bullets, and young hindrance at his side.
From the corner of his eye Lovino spotted the young blonde male speeding swiftly towards them, barely having time to cry out as the man lashed out with a small knife, swiping it across Lovino's face.
"Nonno!" he managed to cry out as the knife made contact with his face.
Romulus turned to see his grandson pull away, hands covering his face as blood crept past his palms. He nearly dropped his gun in shock at the sight of his grandson injured. The attacker didn't waste time in gloating, striking the older man with the knife, plunging it into his torso.
Alfred cried out in surprise, drawing the attention of a few around him.
Stumbling back, Romulus clutched his chest, his hands circling the hilt of the knife. He looked down at the red seeping through, then to Lovino's. He dropped the gun as his hands trembled and he remembered to breathe.
"Romulus!" the blonde lightning user called, running to the wounded leader. The blonde assassin had run when Alfred had given a noise of surprise, alerting his awareness. "Come on, let's get you out of here!" He made to grab for the old man to support his shaking frame, only to have his hands slapped away. Romulus' hands had left a red wet splotch on his wrist.
"Get Lovino first," he said weakly, nudging the crying boy towards Alfred.
Trapped in a moment of indecision, Alfred did nothing but gasp for breath for a few seconds before snatching the Communicator from where it was attached to Romulus' clothes. His shaking fingers had trouble pressing the button required to make it work, but as he used one hand to defend them, the other contacted the others in their group.
"G-guys!" he called hoarsely into the two-way radio. "Romulus and Lovino down. Help!"
He almost forgot to let the speaking button go to allow others a chance to communicate back.
Of course he wasn't expecting the others to stop in the middle of battle just to phone him back. He was surprised he had been able to focus on two tasks at once, let alone hold off anyone coming towards them while their guard was down.
He scanned the battle ground quickly, searching for any of his approaching comrades. He needed help getting Romulus and Lovino out. He couldn't help them and protect them at the same time. Two more people, that's all he asked for.
The first person to approach was Yong Soo. The young male had doppelgangers running with him, a use of his Decoy Gene. It would help in distraction only, but not directly defense. At the sight of Romulus and Lovino, Yong Soo's expression morphed from nervous confusion to absolute horror. His doubles disappeared as he lost focus.
"Yong Soo!" Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. "Finally! Is anyone else making their way over?"
The young Asian nodded, still taking in the sight of Lovino clutching his bloody face and Romulus panting and wheezing in pain. Somehow the old man was still able to pull the trigger and ward off a few enemies. Alfred couldn't admire him anymore than he already did, he was sure.
"Heracles is coming too. I wasn't much help so I got here fastest." It seemed embarrassing for him to admit that he wasn't able to help much, but when one had surveillance Gene Swaps only, they tended to be a little less helpful at confrontation. "He was looking for Sadiq, I think, but it seems none of their big guys are out. Oh, actually, I stand corrected. Is that Gilbert?"
Alfred waved it away, trying to get the young Asian male back on track.
"Says he's on our side. Don't know if I believe him yet. Or if I'll believe him ever." Yong Soo nodded in agreement, watching the albino struggle to fight off men surrounding him.
"There's Heracles," he announced, pointing to a brown haired man charging past enemies. He allowed fire, ice, and electricity to hit him, hardly flinching when a fireball hit his back, or ice tried to numb him in place. His body absorbed it almost instantly, leaving only damage to his clothing.
Soon enough the generally lackadaisical man stood next to them, eyes searching Romulus and Lovino.
"Why haven't you guys done anything already? Move!" he reprimanded, carefully but quickly wrapping Romulus' arm around his shoulders and supporting his weight. Yong Soo guided Lovino after them, pushing him forward. As the two walked, the Grecian made sure any attacks hit him. He fired back when he was given the chance but otherwise left it to Alfred to back him up.
Untangling themselves from the mob of people and machines locked in battle was tougher than getting in to the headquarters. By the time they picked their way out, Lovino was mumbling half sobbed apologies and Romulus was weakly comforting him.
"Heracles, we need to get him away from here. Maybe call for someone with a Medic Gene," Alfred said, watching over his shoulder. "Who was that person? He disappeared so quickly."
"Who?" Yong Soo asked, having heard Alfred mutter to himself.
"The one who did this," the blonde replied, gesturing to the two injured Italians. "Ran up with a knife. The one in Romulus' chest. He ran off." Alfred didn't have the time to think about it as Romulus' body shuddered and gave a strained cough. As his head ducked down and his body trembled, Alfred glimpsed flecks of blood trickle out.
"Hey, hey! Come on, old man," he said shakily, wondering if they were even going to make it far enough away to where they could call for help. "Stay with us, you're going to be okay! You've had worse, right?"
Romulus looked back at Alfred, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. His gaze flickered over to Lovino. The eldest grandson looked back with one eye, the other hidden by a hand covered in blood. He started to mouth another apology when Romulus stopped him again, flashing a ghost of his normal smile.
"I've had worse, this is true. In my younger days I could take this knife right out and kill the man who had tried to assassinate me. I've even done it once before." He took a moment to breathe as deeply as he could. "But that was in my younger days. When I was about your age, Alfred. Strong people fell to their knees before me when I was young and strong. Now I'm an old man, and this will probably be my last mission."
The group was stunned into silence. Honestly, Alfred was sure that like he, the rest of the group was certain that Romulus would be finished. They were hopeful that he being the man he was, he would pull through this regardless of the wound, regardless of the blood loss. They would call for Elizaveta in time. She would heal him to the best of her abilities and they would lie low as they waited for their beloved leader to recover.
That was what they all wanted to happen, but they had been too skeptical of that kind of outcome.
Alfred often had to remind himself that this wasn't a game, or a dream.
"How ironic," Romulus said, directing where he wanted Heracles to place him. They ducked behind a building, placing Romulus against the wall. Slowly the old man slid down, wincing as the knife was jostled. "The thing that we set out to prevent this is what kills me."
Lovino and Alfred sat next to Romulus, Heracles and Yong Soo stood guard.
"It's my fault, isn't it, Nonno?" Lovino asked quietly, whimpering as he clutched the left side of his face with both hands. "You keep telling me it's not, but it is. It's because I came along and distracted you, right? I was dragging you down."
Romulus' head rested against the wall of the crumbling building, his breathing shallow as he held to the knife wound. He had one hand wrapped loosely around the hilt of the blade, as if pondering whether to pull it out and make things speed up, or to let it proceed slowly and painfully to buy more time. To Lovino's question he simply shook his head.
"No, no. Not your fault," he replied breathlessly. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his nostrils flared quickly. His brows furrowed in the effort it took to breathe as painlessly as possible. "I suppose you were right. I should have let you fight sooner. Or at least not have kept you to guard duty all of the time." He shook his head again. "Don't make that mistake with Feliciano. He needs to know how to defend himself too, you know."
The younger Italian gave a choked sob as he realized his grandfather was passing his last wishes to him.
"I'll take care of him, Nonno. I'll take care of him," he promised, tears flowing freely. Alfred felt as though this moment should have been reserved for the two of them. He even wished Feliciano were here to say good bye.
"I'm just glad it wasn't you. You and your brother are my everything, you know?" He took a breath, pausing as he struggled for words. "Alfred," he called, looking to the blonde sitting at his side, face turned away from the scene.
His head swiveled to look over at the dying man. His breath caught in his throat as he watched the light gradually fading from the older male's eyes.
"You'll make a fine leader for the Resistance, trust me."
At this, Heracles and Yong Soo spun around, looking between Romulus and Alfred. They didn't look surprised. Not at the outcome of the situation. Everyone in the base knew Alfred was almost doted on as much as Feliciano by their leader. Everyone expected the position to be passed down to Alfred.
"B-but, I wouldn't! I'm too rash, too inexperienced!" he stuttered nervously, too anxious to know what to say. "I wouldn't be a good leader. Not like you!"
Romulus just smiled and gave an airy laugh.
"We all start somewhere. What do you think I started as? The great man I am today? Certainly not. You'll do fine."
"I'm honored, sir," Alfred said, dipping his head out of respect.
"You can start by calling off the others. We wouldn't want them failing on a mission that's no longer in play, right?" Romulus' eyes grew more unfocused as they drifted to the radio clutched in Alfred's hands. He had completely forgotten he had been holding it to wait for a response. The others were still fighting for their lives.
"What do you think of Gilbert?" Alfred asked quickly, unsure what to believe without the words from his leader. They could use any ally possible, but the chances of Gilbert honestly quitting the Order to join them sounded so unbelievable.
The old man didn't respond at first. Alfred watched his breaths slow down. It was like he was falling asleep. Just as he thought Romulus was too far gone to hear him or respond, the leader spoke his last words of wisdom to Alfred.
"I've known him since he and his brother were just boys. Gilbert is sincere. He's always been a rebellious spirit compared to his brother and grandfather. In any case, keep an eye on him, but don't let mistrust hinder honest judgment. A time will come where you and he will trust each other with your lives.
"Finally, Lovino. I'll be watching over you and your brother, guarantee it. Don't do anything naughty, all right?"
Lovino nodded as best as he could with two hands clasped over his face. He let one go to place it on Romulus' own hand. Alfred placed a hand on Romulus' other hand, finding them losing warmth quickly. He avoided placing pressure or moving to prevent causing Romulus more pain in his last moments.
Together the four of them watched the passing of their beloved founder.
Lovino broke the silence with a strangled sob, wrenching one of Romulus' lifeless hands away from the knife that had been plunged into his heart, pulling it close to his face. He kissed the hand several times, sniffling and keening pathetically.
Alfred couldn't bring himself to cry. He could barely bring tears to his eyes. He wondered what was wrong with him. The man that had raised him after the civil war had broken out had just died and he couldn't even force a drop of water from his eyes.
Off to the side Heracles and Yong Soo had lowered their heads. The young Korean shed a few tears, his mouth fighting the twitch of a frown. Even Yong Soo was crying more than Alfred was.
"Romulus? Alfred? Where did you guys go?" Antonio's voice sounded through the Communicator in Alfred's hands. "We got away and we have Gilbert with us. Mathias and Berwald are holding them back. Can't find Toris though. Is Romulus all right?"
Alfred hesitated, first looking for the voice to speak.
"Antonio." His voice cracked. He paused and cleared his throat. "Antonio," he tried again. "Romulus . . . Romulus is dead, where are you? We're pulling out."
There was silence from the radio. Alfred was sure Berwald had just heard the news too. Maybe Mathias if he was close enough.
"How about we meet back at base instead? I can warn Feliciano ahead of time," the Spaniard suggested.
Alfred nearly agreed just so they could get going, but then he remembered Lovino was still bleeding.
"Wait, no. Meet at the place where the fountain used to be. We need you to pick up Lovino."
Assuming the silence from the other end afterwards meant that Antonio had nothing more to say, Alfred stood up and looked down at Lovino, still clinging tightly to Romulus' limp hand.
"Lovino, we need to move," he told the other, placing a hand on the Italian's shoulder. "We need to get you to Antonio before any Order members head over to pick them off while they wait for us. Antonio will take you back to the base faster than we can."
The auburn haired male remained stock still, making Alfred wonder if they would need to physically pry him away from his grandfather's body. Instead, the boy kissed his grandfather's hand once more and stood, shoulder's slumped as though carrying a heavy burden.
"It wasn't your fault," Alfred told him, removing his hand from Lovino's shoulder. He wanted to tell him something that would relieve him from the metaphorical burden, but he was sure only time would do that.
"Heracles, I need you to carry Romulus' body. Would you, please?" Alfred requested, getting the group ready to move out. They needed to be quick to avoid keeping Antonio waiting around long. "You guys go meet with Antonio, then, once Lovino's with him, Heracles and Yong Soo need to head for the base. I would travel in small groups though. You would draw too much attention going in all together. Antonio needs time to warn Feliciano anyways.
"I'm going to check on Mathias and Berwald. Maybe we can find Toris," Alfred concluded, stepping past the Asian and Grecian, looking back at them before parting ways. He needed to inform them himself if they hadn't already heard.
"Wait a second." He turned around to see Heracles offering Alfred the bloodied knife that had been lodged in Romulus' torso. Alfred didn't know why he'd need it, but he took it anyway. The blonde gripped the red stained handle tightly, looking at the weapon that had felled their leader. He took a deep breath and wrenched his eyes away from the knife. They had to leave now.
Alfred made his way back to where the large battle had taken place, only to find it reduced to a quarter of its original size. Bodies littered the floor as well as scrap parts. Berwald and Mathias stood in the middle of it, finishing off the rest of them.
They didn't need his help, so he waited for them to finish. He waited until Mathias set down his ax and Berwald to take a hesitant breath before approaching. They saw him coming and looked at him with a solemn expression.
So they already knew. Or they had something else to tell him. They glanced at the knife in Alfred's hands. Alfred paused in advancing to tuck it away, giving it the spot of the knife he had brought with him. He discarded his old knife, kicking it away from him.
"Where's Toris?" Alfred asked as he neared the two.
Berwald and Mathias grudgingly looked at one another before looking back at the Order's headquarters.
"Well see, it wasn't my fault," Mathias started up nervously, fidgeting a bit. "When we were getting inside, Ivan confronted us."
Alfred felt the blood drain from his face. Ivan was one of their most dangerous opponents aside from Adalbert.
"We were heading out, you know? Too much firepower against the three of us, so we totally bailed, right?" Mathias was licking his lips and scratching the back of his head. "Ivan uses ice and all, you know? Well, he was shooting at us. Mostly Toris. We tried to get him out of there quickly, but well. . ." He trailed off slowly, looking back at the base.
"Ivan has Toris?" Alfred asked quietly, his brow raising disbelievingly.
"Yes," the halberd-wielder said. "He froze him solid. There was no way we could save him."
One teammate right after the other. Alfred ran a hand through his hair, sighing through his nose. God, they hadn't had a mission go this badly since 1966.
"You're going to tell Feliks. Not me." He tried to make light of the situation, but facing Feliks was a challenge on its own. Alfred was already sucking as a leader and it wasn't even an hour in.
"Maybe we can make a bargain with him, I don't know," he finally offered, chewing his lower lip. "Maybe we'll trade Gilbert for Toris. Assuming he isn't killed right away." He wondered first if Toris was taken in order for a trade-off to become possible between the two sides, but Alfred realized the former heir to the Order hadn't technically defected until after they had escaped the building.
It all sounded like some kind of plan they were setting up to where trading one for another would be required, just so Gilbert could get inside information. They could only wait and see. A conference call would need to be set up when they got back.
"If we're done here, let's get back."
Alfred led the way for the three of them. They were met with zero resistance, amazingly. None of this should have been this easy. They should be greeted with guns and bolts of electricity for taking the heir. The Order should be trying harder to get him back.
Was Romulus wrong about Gilbert being sincere? This was too suspicious. The timing and everything was all wrong.
"You guys know Gilbert claims to have quit the Order, right?" Alfred asked them on their walk back, breaking the silence.
Mathias perked his head up; shifting the heavy weapon he balanced on his shoulder.
"Saw him, didn't say anything when he started blasting some of his own guys away."
"Yeah, but what do you think? He confronted us as we were leaving, dropped his gun, held his hands up in the air. Told us he was quitting the Order. Sounds too suspicious to me."
Berwald looked at Alfred wearily. While he wasn't a man of many words, he offered words that counted.
"What did the leader say?" the Swedish male asked quietly.
"Said to trust him and not let our suspicion cloud our judgment or something."
"So, do we trust him then?" the Dane asked. "If trading him off for Toris doesn't work, we could just lock him up in a cage for the rest of ever."
"I want to trust Romulus, but the situation and my gut instinct, all of it says this is wrong," Alfred groaned, holding his pounding head. All of this thinking and everything that had happened had given him a splitting headache.
"We need more people on our side. We're outnumbered by a lot. Maybe we can use him for information and then lock him up?" Mathias suggested, looking to the stoic Swede. They may not always be on the best terms all the time, but when the situation called for it, the two relied on each other to get by.
"As long as he fights for us, we don't need to trust him entirely," Berwald replied, removing his cracked glasses to clean the lenses.
"I guess." Somehow that made him feel better. He wanted to trust Gilbert, but that didn't mean he had to. They could all keep an eye on him, make sure he wasn't snooping and swapping info. They could use him for what he was capable of. No one said they had to trust him, although Romulus had suggested it.
The rest of the walk was quiet as they all pondered something different.
For Mathias, he wondered how to break it to Toris' closest friend, Feliks. No doubt chairs would be thrown. Feliks was going to have an absolute melt down when they told him Toris was in Ivan's hands. He was gritting his teeth nervously, trying to piece out the easiest way to break it to him.
Berwald was simply thinking about how things could have gone differently. For him, losing an ally was tough, and he could already imagine the reaction Feliks was going to have. If it had been Tino that had been taken, he didn't know what he'd do. Tino was so fragile already, even if he wouldn't admit it. Berwald made sure Tino stayed at the base every time, even when the young man wanted to help most.
Alfred's mind was racing through everything at light speed. It went from grasping the concept that he was the new leader, as well as Gilbert's alliance with them. He fretted for Toris' wellbeing, wondering how all of this could be solved. Sooner or later they'd have to go back and make a second try. Romulus would want it, he was sure.
They'd recover, lick their wounds, and mourn for their leader. Then they would stand up and try again later. They owed it to their founder to bring back the one thing he had wanted almost as badly as winning the war.
When they arrived back to the hotel, they stopped outside and the door and prepared for the worst. As they walked through the door, they found everyone gathered in the lobby.
The lot of them were gathered around the table that originally held their plans.
The table that they had all gathered around before they had set off for the Revive Chamber.
A few turned their attention away from the corpse of their fallen leader to greet them sadly.
A short blonde male detached himself from the group, rushing to Berwald's side and embracing him. Berwald wrapped an arm around him and the two walked to the table.
A second blonde male ran from the table's side, approaching the two with a near-panicked expression.
"Where did Toris go? You didn't forget him, did you?" the Polish male demanded, worry etched into his face. "You totally left him, didn't you? He better not be dead!"
Mathias looked to Alfred for help but only received a shake of his head.
No, it certainly wasn't the Dane's fault in any way or form that Toris had been captured, but as part of his team, he had to tell the distraught best friend.
"Hey, uh, Feliks? Why don't we step over here?" Mathias suggested, guiding Feliks by the arm to a remote corner.
Alfred was left alone, looking at the group of comrades gathered around Romulus' body. As far as he could tell, only Elizaveta and Lovino were missing. The rest that had been on the mission to recover the Revive Chamber were able to go without treating their wounds right away.
To the side, Gilbert stood awkwardly, watching the scene from afar. He didn't want to get into their personal business, especially with most of them scorning him and cursing him for being there. He wasn't welcome as one who was technically from the side that had ended their leader's reign.
The new leader approached the albino, standing next to him quietly, watching the scene. He knew he should be over there with his friends, crying or saying goodbye, but he chose to stand next to their new member.
"I guess you don't lose people very often," Gilbert commented without removing his eyes from the sight. "Or you value your people like they're family."
While he would rather ignore the outsider, his curiosity got the better of him.
To their left Feliks gave a sob of agony. Alfred couldn't bring himself to look. Apparently Gilbert couldn't, either.
"You don't treat your group like family?"
"Gramps said they were all expendable. At least the normal citizens are. Why do you think we send out so many people at one time? We have tons of people ready to die to exterminate the 'Rats.' Plus, we have the Revive Chamber. It still has a few bugs, but it works."
Alfred didn't know what to think of them treating their allies like expendable tools. He supposed it was typical of them. They probably ran like an office might; everyone did their share of work until they were no longer useful.
"Bugs? What kind?"
Gilbert shrugged. "Never been through it myself. Only Swapped a few days ago, so I never went out to fight before today. As far as our researchers could tell, it's different for everyone but you aren't yourself every time you come back. Some of our people are like zombies at this point. It's not an awesome sight, trust me."
"So even if we had obtained one today, it would still have problems," Alfred muttered, wondering if it was better to have their friends alive and whole, or alive and a shadow of themselves.
"You know, I could do your mechanics for you. I know how it works for the most part. I can try and fix it when you get one." Gilbert finally turned his head to look at him. "If you're still after one, that is."
Alfred was skeptical, but Gilbert offering a hand to them made him want to trust him a little more.
"Of course we're going to try again. We need to avoid situations like this. They don't happen often, but they happen enough."
"So what happens next?" the albino inquired, watching the younger grandson sob into the arms of Antonio.
Alfred recalled the knife he had received from Heracles. He removed it from the hidden sheath and showed the blade to Gilbert.
"Is this knife special, or is it standard issue with the Order?" Alfred asked, letting Gilbert take the bloodied knife from him to examine.
He flipped the weapon around, looking at the bottom of the hilt. His eyes squinted, searching for something in particular.
"No, it's not that popular in the Order. It's my brother's, though. He wasn't supposed to be out on the field," Gilbert stated, handing the knife back casually.
"How do you know it's his?"
"Bottom of the handle, he marked his initials in it. I'm surprised he left it. Gramps gave it to him when he was little. Never gave me one."
"Not helping ,Gil," Alfred said, spotting the initials. So the blonde haired male who had darted through the crowd had been the new heir for the Order, considering Gilbert left. If Alfred had killed him, there wouldn't be an heir, would there?
"Right. I'll keep the awesome comments to myself then."
"We're going to hold a funeral for Romulus," Alfred said, knowing the rest would want it. It would be small and short to avoid attention. Alfred figured burning the body would be easiest.
"Yeah? You do that. Am I invited?" Gilbert asked, looking skeptical. "I did know him before this all started, you know."
Alfred just nodded tiredly. He wasn't going to tell anyone they couldn't come. If Gilbert wanted to go, then it was fine.
In the old shopping districts was where the funeral was performed.
The body had been cleaned the day after, but the man was still dressed in the stained clothes he had died in. Limited resources and all that. Romulus' body was strapped to the door of his bedroom that Mathias and Berwald had worked to rip off the hinges and carried by Antonio and Alfred.
They carried the makeshift coffin to the old shopping district. Against their better judgment everyone followed, leaving the base unguarded for the day. They didn't expect to be long though. It would be quick and easy. Those who wanted to stay after were welcome to it, but the base couldn't be left unattended for too long.
Romulus' body was set down on the cracked pavement in front of an old Italian restaurant that the family had favored. The gathered members of the Resistance family stood around him, heads inclined. Some murmured things they wished they would have said before it happened, while others thanked him.
When all grew silent Antonio stepped forward. With great hesitation he allowed tiny dancing flames to sprout from his fingertips, eventually allowing them to grow larger before laying them down across the corpse of their leader. The smell of burning flesh penetrated the air, but few seemed to mind for the occasion.
Alfred looked to the faces of his comrades as the body burned. He looked to the twins first. Feliciano sobbed pathetically, curled in on himself as close as he could to his grandfather's body. Lovino sat next to him with an arm around his shoulder, half of his face bandaged. The older twin looked devastated as tears leaked quietly from his visible eye. Alfred wondered if the other eye was even in any condition to be able to cry.
Next he looked to Antonio. The Spaniard looked at his hands regretfully. It had to be done, but he wished he hadn't been the one to do it. Francis stood next to him, patting his back and whispering reassurances. On Antonio's other side stood Gilbert, looking serious but not quite sorrowful. Alfred wondered why he bothered coming.
As his gaze traveled from Berwald's face, to Elizaveta's face, to Matthew's, Alfred wondered if he was really capable of leading these people. From now on they would count on him. He would be responsible for every success, every failure, and every death. Until they got that Revive Chamber, death was their biggest weakness.
The funeral officially lasted about half an hour, and after the body had been burned once more to burn whatever might have remained people began walking back to the base. It took another half hour for all but Alfred and Feliciano to clear out. Lovino had left with Antonio only minutes previous. Feliciano didn't appear ready to leave any time soon, so Alfred approached him and kneeled next to his curled form.
"Feli, it's time to go," he told the Italian. It had been about twenty minutes ago that Feliciano's eyes had run dry. Now, as he faced the time to depart Romulus' resting place his eyes watered once more.
"I know. Help me up?" he requested, slowly unfurling his body and holding his arms out.
Alfred grabbed his arms and pulled him up, holding his balance as Feliciano staggered.
"Are you okay?" the blonde asked, knowing that he probably really wasn't.
The brunette just nodded, keeping his gaze low to the ground. He sniffled once and used his arm to wipe his eyes. "I will be. Did Nonno say anything to you before he died?"
"A bit. He told your brother to watch after you. Told us to trust Gilbert." He paused. "He said I would make a good leader."
Feliciano looked up at the last part, a small smile flickering across his lips, just lifting the corners of his mouth in the slightest.
"I think so, too. I know everyone else will," the Italian responded. "Nonno's never wrong about people. You'll be a good leader, and Gilbert will make a nice ally."
"You think so too? About Gilbert, I mean." It was very few of them that trusted Gilbert right now. Many had promised to never trust him when he had announced his 'official, awesome defection' from the Order after things had calmed down the night before.
Giving a small nod without hesitation, Feliciano inhaled shakily.
"He's going to have to work hard to get everyone's trust. He will work hard for it, too. Gilbert's the kind of guy that everyone naturally likes, even though he's obnoxious." Before Alfred could ask how the other knew, Feliciano quickly added, "We used to play when we were kids."
Alfred didn't know what else to say to Feliciano's confession. Maybe that's why Gilbert attended. He had known Romulus personally at one point. Alfred thought about it for a bit. Feliciano had taken a blank look on his face. His eyes saw another time as his memories played a different setting.
"So you're not mad that I've been made the new leader?" Alfred asked after they have lapsed into a comfortable silence. His voice brought Feliciano back to reality.
The older male smiled. "Of course. I don't care that you're younger than Lovino and I. I don't care if you aren't related. To Nonno everyone was family. Lovino might not be happy later though. He was always jealous of the relationship you had with our grandfather, you know."
"Then I suppose we ought to tell the others?" Alfred asked, turning away from the smoking ashes of their leader to face the direction of the base. He began heading back slowly, making sure Feliciano followed.
The youngest grandson trailed him at first before he picked up his pace and walked side by side with Alfred.
"I'm sure they already expected it, but I suppose we need something to celebrate about." Feliciano picked up his smile and forced it to grow wider. "Yeah, you should definitely do it. Make sure you tell them when you walk in."
A/N: The two betas I enlisted for this both have not gotten around to editing/betaing this story. I apologise for any mistakes. I'm thinking this will probably not get any second eye editing because they're both busy and leaving, so it will more than likely be riddled with mistakes. I apologise for the future ones in advance!
Until the next chapter!