One

Alfred raced around the corner, slumping against the wall. He was out of breath and in pain; a couple of his ribs fractured. He grasped his bad half for support, shooting a spasm of pain up his side. All his senses were on edge, and he could hear and feel the blood pounding in his ears. Suddenly, his ears pricked, hearing the distinct sound of steel on marble.

"Come on, Capitalist~" a sweet voice called from down the long hall, "you can't hide from me~"

Alfred hissed in aggravation, attempting to stand back up; to get away. The sound that highly resembled nails on a chalkboard grew steadily closer, before abruptly stopping. He held his breath, listening intently. Had she moved down another hall? Or was she just carrying the shovel now? He risked sneaking a peek, sighing in relief as he looked on at an empty hallway.

That had only been a false sense of security, however. He turned back, nearly jumping out of his skin as he came face-to-face with her.

Face-to-face with Anya Braginski.

Or, rather, face-to-shovel. After all, not but two seconds after seeing her had she smashed it against his jawbone. Alfred fell to the floor, clutching pathetically at his jaw. Shit, it was broken. Anya towered over him, smiling and using the shovel to tilt his face up to look at her. Her strange violet eyes shimmered.

"I found you, darling~"

He groaned, glaring weakly up at her. Alfred couldn't believe he'd let himself get caught in her game. He shakily sat up, backing up against the wall. He sputtered out some blood, trembling. Anya squatted across from him, giggling. Her gaze was soft, her voice silky and full of contempt.

"That's twice I've found you, Capitalist~" she began, traces of bitter disappointment coating her tone, "one more time and it's game over~"

She held out her hand for him to take, smiling affectionately. Alfred's glare softened, and he reluctantly took her hand. She pulled him to a standing position, her childish demeanor emanating from her.

"Now, darling, I'm going to count again…" she murmured, lightly stroking the good, unhurt side of his face, "…and you're going to hide again~"

Alfred gulped, nodding slowly. What else could he do? There was no way out of this death trap called the Russian household, and if he could somehow manage to win this unfair, one-sided game, he could walk free again. But there was something else. He knew, somewhere in that sadistic mind of hers, that Anya just wanted a friend; someone to play with.

Even though it was becoming quite obvious as to why she couldn't hold onto any friends for too long.

He watched her skip down the hall, shovel in hand, before stumbling a bit further away, the pain washing over him like a wave at the beach. Alfred listened carefully as she counted, keeping a hand on the wall as he quickened his pace. Not but five minutes passed before he heard her sing the words that would seal his fate.

"Game, start~!"

The words echoed heavily off the many walls of the home, sending chills down the blonde American's spine. He moved a little faster down the hallway, ignoring the agonizing pain in his ribs and the numbness in his jaw. He could hear the light pitter-patter of her feet hopping up the stairs one at a time. His head was pounding, and the pain surging through his body was affecting his vision, which was beginning to blur around the edges. He turned another corner, coming into another hall. It was as long and empty as the last. Alfred cursed to himself under his breath, beginning to believe he was going idly in circles.

Then, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He squinted, trying to see what was at the opposite end of the hall. At first, he yelped, seeing Anya peeking out from around the corner, but his fear quickly turned to confusion as she shrank back, hiding. Alfred cleaned his glasses off before trying to get a better look at the girl. He inched towards her, noticing she looked a lot younger than… Well, the Anya of today. She even looked frightened; an emotion almost never seen with Anya.

Momentarily, he felt like Arthur; was this chick for real? He called her by Anya's name, and she slowly came out from around the corner. Before he could question what was going on, he heard her. The familiar sound of steel shovel on marble reached his ears and he turned to see the real Anya standing statuesquely at the other end of the corridor.

"Aw… how disappointing~" she whined, "I was hoping you'd get farther~!"

He turned back to little Anya, but she'd vanished. He shakily stood tall, glaring.

"Why don't I take a turn with the shovel… and you hide?" he snarled, clearly upset.

"That's not how the game works~"

She began pacing down the hall towards him, shovel resting on her shoulder. Alfred made a break for around the corner, not even acknowledging the pains in his upper body. Another hallway lay before him, and he could hear Anya quickly closing in. He looked around frantically for somewhere to hide, spotting little Anya again. Her expression was panicked, and she was motioning for him to follow her as she turned another corner of the house.

Alfred raced after her, going through many doors and halls he probably wouldn't have originally noticed. He slipped down three flights of stairs, and stopped at the door little Anya had stopped in front of. She was staring intensely at it, and he noticed the lock slowly turning. He could faintly hear Anya moving down the first two staircases, and he started growing antsy, trying as hard as he could to keep quiet. The lock finally clicked, and Alfred yanked the door open, sliding in behind little Anya.

"Alfred, darling~" he heard Anya sing, "I know you're here somewhere, Capitalist~"

Alfred didn't stick around to let her see him. He slammed the thick door shut, locking it. The rich black of darkness quickly overtook everything around him.

Including himself.