Author's Notes: For a little change in pace, here's a "RE:" ("revised") fic for the Doomsday-verse AU, The Vanishing Shadows, which was originally posted in DeviantArt around Halloween 2012. Like in the earlier version, this one moves the clock to the AU's version of 2012. And just as in that, expect some suspense, fear and possibly outright horror...only this time around with more than a few polished and altered twists. Admittedly, this was partly done to make up for some of the missed opportunities, typos and off writing that may have been in the earlier fic. Maybe you could blame the critic in me. But for those who've heard of this just now, then hopefully this fic is polished and set for your tastes!

Just to be sure, this is a work of fiction. No ill or harm is intended at the slight. And as a precaution, I neither own Hetalia nor 1983: Doomsday. All rights belong to their respective owners.

At any rate, enjoy!

*UPDATE: Also apologies for the last minute typo fixes!

Doomsday RE: The Vanishing Shadows

A 1983: Doomsday Tale through Different Eyes.

CH - 1

Linz-Hörsching Airport, Alpine Confederation. 2012.

It had been a particularly long and tiring flight. As Jean Burnel stepped out of the renovated airport, he felt glad to be back on solid ground. While he admitted that air travel might have gotten better since commercial planes once more took to the skies, the experience still felt unnerving. Especially being so far from the warm shores of his Pacific home. Looking around, he noticed a few signs for the upcoming Seleenwoche, with a couple of fake pumpkins put in for good measure amidst the freshly renovated façade. At least that's over with, the writer thought, taking in the fresh if peculiar Alpine air for a few moments. On to business then. Making sure that his luggage was safe, he wearily moved towards the parking lot.

Save for a handful of security guards and Prussian tour groups, he thanks his lucky stars that the place was less crowded than he imagined it to be. And to his continued relief, not one of them seemed to recognize him as the author of The Shadow of Tomorrow. While he was by no means a mere upstart, it still surprised him long after the interviews and press events how that that piece of work had already become a bestseller across the RTFA, ANZ Commonwealth and who knew where else. Guess I ought to thank those Anzacs for translating it into English. Already, his book was being compared with H.P. Lovecraft of all people in those newfangled REM boards: a harrowing if action-packed tale of a lost secret from Doomsday hidden in Paris and the soldiers who discover its horrific truth.

Merde, sometimes I surprise myself. The man smirked despite the exhaustion as he kept on looking. True, some criticized him for making such a distorted take on France's legacy, especially since he himself was a citizen of a French successor state. If only people really knew what I based it on…

It wasn't long however before Jean noticed an unassuming black Mercedes Benz parked at the far end of the lot. Standing in front of it was a greying steel-eyed man in a second-hand suit, a faded Red Star clipped to its collar. He looked like someone who had seen combat once upon a time. Another figure walked up beside him, slightly younger and with a hint of tan but no less intimidating as he murmured something in an English that sounded vaguely American. Come to think of it, the two seemed to match what Jean's benefactors described his contacts in the invitation, even if the letter didn't mention their names. Then again, they arranged my plane ticket. Better not keep them waiting. Giving himself an exhausted shrug, he walked towards the pair.

"Bonjour!" the author greeted as he walked up to shake the weathered man's hand. Quickly collecting himself, he slid into accented English. "So you must be the ones sent to meet me. Apologies, I'm Jean Burnel, Monsieur…"

"Col. Viktor Andrei, formerly of Soviet Ground Forces," he replied crisply though with a plainly Russian accent before nodding at his associate. "And this is Mark. Very handy with – security needs. He'll help you with the bag." The man's voice came across as more than a tad intimidating for Jean's liking, especially as he was gesturing towards the car. "Hope you don't mind rushed welcome. Alpine authorities have been most difficult but you'd be glad to know our – employers have found suitable target away from them. But for now we should get moving to more private location."

As the author stepped into the back seat, his luggage and the American in tow, a tinge of apprehension began bubbling up. For some reason, a thought crossed his mind that it may have been a mistake coming here. Come to think of it, he mused as he practically collapsed on the seat, it did seemed suspicious how mysterious his benefactors were. For all their wealth and connections, as much as they were helpful in making his name a success, he always did wonder whether there was a catch to it all. Just what do they plan for me?

Jean brushed the notion aside. After all, if not for them, he wouldn't have learned much on the existence of Nations. Sure, he had to edit out some of the details, especially the more explicit references to the late "Francis Bonnefoy" for his titular creature. Using France seemed such a good idea at the time. But the realization that such beings were among them in plain sight made for much more than good writing material. And if that letter was telling the truth, then he would soon have a chance of a lifetime: an opportunity to meet with one of "those people." He could imagine all the revelations that would bring. This went far beyond simply making a sequel to his book. This…Mon Dieu, this could very well change the world. The thought managed to perk him up despite the exhaustion. Jet lag be damned.

Noticing the airport vanishing from view through the tinted windows, he turned back to the Russian, a hint of excitement on his face despite his weariness. "Bon," he finally spoke up. "It wouldn't be too rude to ask where we're headed, non?"

Jean noticed a forced and none too comfortable grin lining the old man's face. "In due time, moyemu drugu, all will be revealed." The creeping uncertainty had returned, as much as the writer tried to brush it off. But it was what the man said next that made him really wonder whether somehow, he would regret taking that flight.

"You would find it most appropriate for your novel. Indeed, we are most pleased…"

Somewhere in the Sopron Frontier.

"We're all set to leave, Meine Fraulein," Julia heard Lt. Franz Steiner call out as she finished up the last of her picnic meal.

"Got it, Franz!" she replied gingerly. While the young Austrian aide wasn't in uniform, the Survivor-Nation wanted to make him feel as relaxed as possible. It's the least I could do, the Survivor-Nation thought warmly on seeing the Alpine man actually trying to enjoy himself. After wiping her mouth with an old embroidered handkerchief, she eagerly made her way up the empty road to an old military jeep. There were markets to go and surprises to be planned after all.

Seleenwoche or Mindenszentek napja, however her people chose to call it, the embodiment of Sopron wanted to do her part in making this year's All Saints' Day memorable for everyone. But as much as she respected her customs, she also wanted to make it a little more cheerful for a change. Maybe like those Halloween parties those Americans used to have.

She was no stranger to the chaos in the Wastes, however. Far too many had since passed away since the bombs fell, the cemeteries around her land already filling up with tombstones. Still, she believed the dead wouldn't want their loved ones to grow depressed. Even for a short while. Hopefully Mama and Mr. Auztria like it! Though if only…

Julia found herself sighing as she entered the car, catching Franz's attention. "It's just a shame Herr Edelstein isn't here with us," she answered the young man's unvoiced question.

"I can assure you," the Alpine aide replied while trying to start up the old engine. "That my – superior's trying his best. Perhaps he can find the time soon."

"Danke anyway," the girl shrugged. She already knew that it couldn't be helped. Her aristocratic caretaker was most likely to at the Confederate Council in Vaduz for another one of those sessions. And while the Alpine siblings meant well, the fact that they couldn't really recognize her very publicly or let the Survivor-Nation into those meetings was something that troubled her at times. Despite that, she smiled knowing that he and her mother were still with her. All in good time, right? Maybe when I get older.

But just as they were ready to get going, another car suddenly stopped in front of them, several people with weapons coming out towards them. Franz was able to step out and draw his gun before someone came up from behind and stabbed him. Julia got past her shock long enough to see the knife land oddly on the young officer's arm, though not without managing to fire off a few shots before falling unconscious. She then found herself being dragged off the jeep by another intruder. Whoever these men were, they clearly weren't from her people despite trying to dress up like them.

Nice try though. She smirked defiantly as the Survivor-Nation elbowed her captor with more strength than a girl supposedly her age should have, knocking him out. Noticing another trying to lunge at her, she managed with a little difficulty to lift the attacker up and toss him aside. Don't think you can catch me s-

Sopron suddenly felt a sharp jolt of pain, her body collapsing to the ground as men began surrounding her. The girl managed to pull out a dart that had just struck her neck before they began binding her in all sorts of restraints. She was barely able to make a startled person in the distance speaking in a language that sounded French. She shouldn't give in. She mustn't. Yet her senses were failing, an unwelcome and eerily familiar blackness once again threatening to consume her. Trapped….Nem…I can't…not again…

"W-What's happening?!" she managed to blurt out even as her own voice gave in. The last thing she saw was an old man in a suit, chuckling coldly in a Russian accent.

"The start of a new world, you fool. Ours."

And then there was nothing.

As for some reference:

The Alpine Confederation is a partnership, alliance and federation between Austria, Switzerland and Liechtenstein, with the latter two being the more predominant (the central capital is in Vaduz), which emerged in the AU's version of 1997.

Sopron, is the Magyar city and region bordering Austria, which is also affectionately known as A Leghűségesebb Város ("The Most Loyal Town"). Owing to its location at the crossroads of the two countries (it's also known as Ödenburg), it is in many ways genuinely Austro-Hungarian, with the area practically half-German and half-Magyar. In the Doomsday-verse, it's developed to the point of having its own Survivor-Nation, although she's not exactly recognized outside of Austria or Prussia...

In 1983: Doomsday, Jean Burnel is a fiction writer responsible for the horror-thriller The Shadow of Tomorrow in that timeline's version of 2010. He's also been described in-verse as "H.P. Lovecraft's successor" and is mentioned as working on a sequel set in the "Hungarian Wastes." In the Doomsday-verse AU however, it's shown that his novel and "research" go much deeper.

The RTFA is short for the "Republic of the French Southern Territories," a French Survivor-Nation based around Tahiti and the former Outremer territories in the Pacific Ocean that has plans of one day uniting all the other French-speaking survivors into a reunified France.

The ANZ Commonwealth, also known as the ANZC or simply the Commonwealth is a union between Australia and New Zealand that was formally established around 1995. Not only did both countries endure Doomsday mostly intact (although Sydney, Melbourne and Perth were destroyed by the bombs), but they would emerge as one of the post-Doomsday world's major powers, their reach extending across the Pacific to as far Hawaii.

REM is short for REMUNDO, the Doomsday-verse version of the Internet. By 2012, it's spread to the more stable and civilized parts of the world, although not everyone has access to it just yet. Not to mention that computers are mentioned as being 1980s-early 1990s standards.

As an additional note, Halloween as known in the US or Britain isn't universally celebrated the same way. This is especially true in Central Europe where countries like Austria and Hungary have different traditions largely based around All Saints'/All Souls' Day.

...and yes, Francis Bonnefoy is the human name of France in Hetalia.

Seleenwoche - "All Souls Day/Week" (Austrian German)
Mindenszentek napja - "All Souls Day" (Hungarian)
Les Australiens - "The Australians" (French)
Bon - "Well/Right then..." (French)
Mon Dieu - "My God" (French)
Moyemu drugu - "My Friend" (Russian)
Nem - "No" (Hungarian)
Auztria - Austria (Hungarian)