It only takes a moment

For your eyes to meet and then

Your heart knows in a moment

You will never be alone again

A large, burly man sat at his desk, slouched in his chair, his mind filled with his own conflicting thoughts. It'd been hours and he'd gotten nowhere. The woman sitting across from him was examining a document, eyes drooping a bit in exhaustion. He hadn't meant to keep her up with him but neither of them could help it; this had to be done.

The man, named Ivan Braginski, was no fool when it came to these things and the selection he was trying to make was as difficult as it sounded, but he was the boss for God's sake. He had to have some worth to his name. He couldn't stoop to their levels. Ivan shuffled through his papers a few more times, deciding then re-deciding and so on. This wasn't easy. Perhaps he shouldn't have recruited so many agents.

He hastily scrambled through the papers once more before grouping them together and carefully slipping them into a worn manila folder, keeping his eyes toward it. Finally, his decision had been made. The woman on the other side of the desk looked up from her paperwork and smiled. It was a caring grin that wasn't from ear to ear but could make one tell her emotions. "Have you decided yet who you are going to send, brother?" She spoke politely, as always.

He looked up and smiled at his big sister "Da. I've decided to send Héderváry for this mission. What do you think, Kat?"

Katyusha, with a small bit of doubt, put her hand on her chin and thought for a moment. She is an excellent fighter. Could probably take him down in five seconds. She's got potential but I wonder if she's able to pull through. Has she got what it takes to break him? The guts? Finally, she nodded. "I think that is a wonderful idea, Ivan. She'd be perfect for this mission! When will you be informing her?" Her brother pulled a bottle of vodka out of his coat, unscrewed the cap and took a good, long drink, letting out a long sigh after he swallowed. He tightly screwed the cap back on and placed it on the table.

"As soon as possible, da?" He licked the excess from his lips.

Ivan reached into the right pocket of his large coat, fishing through it. His hand brushed against a rectangular device and he grabbed it, grinning. He pulled it out and pushed a button on it. "Is that your old walkie-talkie?" Katyusha asked. She was surprised that he had kept something that she had gotten for him so long ago. It was small and plastic, fit for a child. He nodded and continued to hold the button until he heard static on the other end.

"It still works!" Once again, he cheered. "Hello?" He waited and waited for an answer until he heard a woman's voice say, 'Алё?'

"Ah! Natasha? Is that you?"

"Brother? Yes, it is me," she replied. "What do you need?"

"I understand that you've returned this morning from your mission in Boston. Are you here?"

"Yes."

"I need you to tell Héderváry to come to the HQ. She should in the battle room. I can count on you, da?"

"…Yes, brother. I can do that but may I ask what for?"

"You'll know soon. With time, all will be revealed, Natalia." She could imagine that eerie grin slither onto his face from across the line and she shuddered.

"…Okay…G-Goodbye, brother."

"Bye, bye!" And they each took their thumb off of the button of their walkie-talkies, ending the 'call.'

Katyusha shivered as well because his smile grew and grew within seconds. She didn't know what was going through his mind, what was making him smile so madly and she didn't know if she wanted to. He laughed. "Katyusha, would you please wait outside for when Elizabeta will arrive?" he asked.

"Ah! Y-Yes, brother!" She got up from her chair and left the room, shutting the door behind her. His grin changed to a smirk.

"Yes, very soon, indeed."

When Katyusha stepped out of the room, she kept her head lowered. There was an empty feeling in her chest but it was as familiar as the hair on her head or the fair skin on her bones.

She had this feeling whenever she was with Ivan. She'd gained it years ago, on a day when their lives changed, when the three were all alone, when they were suddenly abandoned. That day Ivan changed and Katyusha knew it was her fault. What happened to the cute little boy that I raised? Is it this funny business between him and that Wang fellow? Has it all gone to his head? Could it be that my dear little Ivan had disappeared…forever? God, it's all my fault.

Katyusha was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard footsteps down the hallway and she instinctively made a motion to reach for the pistol that she barely used. She relaxed when she saw that it was her sister in her combat attire and a rifle slung across her back.

Behind her was another woman, wearing the same ensemble only her shirt was sleeveless and she wielded a frying pan, oddly enough, instead of a gun. When the two women approached Katyusha, she threw arms around the first woman. "Hello, Natasha! It's been so long, I missed you!" She was nearly reduced to tears then.

The younger sibling grunted at the sudden hug but hugged back with an equal amount of force as she hadn't seen her sister in weeks. When she released the hold on her sister, Katyusha waved towards the other woman. "Good afternoon, Elizabeta!" The woman smiled and waved back.

"Good afternoon to you, too, Kat! What have I been called in for?"

The Ukrainian woman turned to face the door. "Ivan will tell you everything." She turned the doorknob. "Miss Elizabeta is here now," she called in.

He looked up from his vodka. "Ah, good! Please send her in!" She nodded, turned around and made a gesture towards the Hungarian woman to go inside. Katyusha stepped aside, opening the door entirely and Elizabeta went into her boss's office, Natalia following her until her sister stopped her.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, sister, but this one is for Elizabeta only." The elder sibling stared at her disappointed face and then thought for a moment. "But he is assigning a mission for a few of us in a few days, maybe tomorrow, along with Arthur, Gilbert, Peter…Maybe he'll include you. I think that there are others but I'm not so sure."

Natalia sighed. How ignorant of him to do that. They weren't even very good, especially Peter. What was the point in sending a child who could barely stand his own ground? Hell, he couldn't even wrap his own gauze. What did Ivan have planned?

When Elizabeta stepped into Ivan's office, she was immediately greeted by the jolly Russian man. "Um…h-hello, sir. Natalia said that you wanted to see me." She closed the door behind her to block Katyusha and Natalia's conversation. "Da! Please take a seat!" he offered.

She reluctantly walked over and sat in the chair, facing her boss. They had met over ten years ago and she was still scared of him. He smiled, enjoying her fear of him, and pulled the papers out of the manila folder. "I understand that I haven't put you on a mission for quite some time, da?" She nodded. He handed over a picture and a piece of paper with information on it. "I didn't want to use you until the time was right. And no time could be more right. I am giving you an termination job this time."

Her eyes widened. This was a large step for her. She cleared her throat, looking at the picture.

The man in the picture was very young, perhaps her age, with neat, wavy brown hair with one particular strand sticking up. Strange. His eyes were something she took note of unconsciously: purple eyes that gave off a familiar shine, even through a photo. He sported a pair of Wellington spectacles and had a small beauty mark by his lip. He was smiling a little at the camera. Her mouth opened a bit in astonishment. Her cheeks, she knew, were heating up.

The only word that came to mind was handsome. After that she didn't know what to think. There was something familiar about him. His face, that is. Not the name. She felt like she knew him, but she didn't. Perhaps it was the beauty, perhaps she'd seen someone else with one in that exact spot. Who could tell? Elizabeta looked back up at Ivan. "And you want me to…kill him, sir?"

"Da."

"What did he do?"

He took the bottle of vodka off of his desk and took another long drink. "Please read the information sheet, Héderváry." Odd. She placed the photo flat on the table and picked up the piece of paper and read it aloud: "Roderich Edelstein. Nineteen years old." She paused, taking note that he was a year older than her. "Employment…" Her eyes widened when she saw who he worked for. "Wang Dynasty."

"Da. For this reason, you must kill this man. You can do that for me, da?"

"Just because he works for Wang? What did he do?"

"Yao has been keeping him away from the field, training him in secret. He doesn't get out much. Knowing Yao, the boy's probably a maniac by now. Filling his mind with his lies about us, filling his heart with hate, keeping that much away in hiding. He's dangerous." Ivan rubbed his knuckles, sighing. "That's the only photo we have of him. Luckily the police station has a record on all of us."

She took another glance at the picture. This so called 'Roderich' didn't look muscular, or dangerous, for that matter. "I guess I can. He doesn't look like much."

"He does not." Despite the cheerful reply, Ivan's happy smile disappeared, "But you must remember not to underestimate anyone. Do you understand me?"

Elizabeta flinched and nodded. "Y-Yes, sir!"

He smiled once again. "You are to start as soon as possible. Dismissed!" She immediately gathered the papers, got up and ran out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Natalia and Katyusha stopped their chatting and stared at her as she came out, a strange look on her face. "What happened?" Katyusha placed a hand on Elizabeta's shoulder as she pulled herself together.

"Your brother is…scary." Scary didn't seem to be the right word. But then again, what word could describe something like him?

"We know that already…" Natalia sighed, crossing her arms. "So you received a mission, did you? Let's see." She held her hand out.

"Right." Elizabeta handed her friend the paper and photo and she read the paper.

"Hm…'Edelstein'? He doesn't look like much of a threat."

Katyusha peered over her little sister's shoulder and took a good look at the man. "I don't think that he can fight. Look at him. So skinny." The Belarusian woman handed Elizabeta her papers and told her that she needed to rest from her mission and that she was going home. She waved goodbye, the other returning the gesture and she left. Katyusha informed her that she still had paperwork to be done and had to leave also. The Hungarian watched her bound down the hallway in a cheery fashion, as if happy to go off and do paperwork. She exhaled, hands at her hips.

"I guess I'll go home too." She made her way down the hall, taking another look at the man in the photo.

He is handsome. Then she read for his location. New York City. I guess it won't take long if I take the subway, she thought.

A cat with white and brown fur ran through the streets of New York City, trying to keep a piece of clean fabric in his mouth while resisting the urge to breathe through his mouth. He ran as fast as he could from a large, angered man. The piece of cloth was a handkerchief, which apparently belonged to the man. The cat had grabbed it out of his pocket and quickly got away but the man saw him out of the corner of his eye and chased after the cat.

The frightened feline turned a corner into an alleyway and lost the man. Why would he love a handkerchief that much? He let out a brief exhale through his small black nose and walked to a trashcan. He hopped onto a box, placing the handkerchief neatly and carefully on the top and pounced up on it. Letting out a long yawn, he got into sleeping position and slowly closed his eyes when—

"There you are, you little furball!" His eyes shot open to see the fat man sweating and panting with anger in his eyes. He picked the cat up by the skin of his neck and the cat squirmed and scratched at the man's hand with his small paws. "You're gonna get it now, pussycat!" He held the cat high up in the air and was about to slam him down to the ground, the cat shutting his eyes for the impact, until he felt a tap on his shoulder, stopped and stared to the right.

The small animal slowly opened his eyes and looked to the right as well. There stood a young man with brown hair and eyes that strangely matched that of the cat. His eyebrow raised, he asked, "What…are you doing?"

The large bald man raised his eyebrow as well. "Huh? Wha—Get outta here, pipsqueak, before I—"

"You're trying to kill a cat? Am I right?" He seemed calm, eyes half-lidded in mock disinterest but he sounded curious.

"I said get lost!" He threw a punch at the dark haired man but he easily dodged it.

"Right, you are. So I'll just—" He reached out for the cat but the bald man kept it out of his grasp.

"Just who the hell do you think you are!?" he yelled. The shorter man raised an eyebrow.

"Roderich. Roderich Edelstein." He was confused by the question. "What a ridiculous question. Like I don't know who I am. Now could you please let the cat go?" The larger man simply by this point had veins popping out of his forehead and he threw a kick. The young man sighed and jumped over his leg and bald man. In his flight, he managed to steal the cat from the man's meaty fingers. Once he landed, he ran out of the alleyway, the cat under his arm.

He turned the corner and ran down the sidewalk. The man soon came jogging after him. Roderich guessed that that was the fastest he could go; no way would he be caught. He turned corner after corner until he reached an apartment complex. He quickly went inside, putting the small cat into his rather large pocket and messing up his hair so that it was out of its combed state. The ruffian entered the building in a rush, sweating and wheezing.

He looked around the lobby but found no young man with a cat. Grunting, he walked out. Roderich peered around the corner of his hiding spot, his breathing slightly faster and smiled at the cat who looked up at him. He fixed his hair and walked out the door. Once outside, he took the cat into his arms and looked at it.

"That was close, wasn't it?" The cat just shot him a look. "Have you got a home to return to?" The cat gave a look so sad that it made Roderich lose his smile. He thought for a moment. "Well…I suppose there's nothing wrong with having a cat. I guess you're my cat then." He paused. The cat hissed as Roderich rolled him over and peered down at him. "Oh, so you are a boy. Wait, what about Moritz? Good, right? Then, it's settled. Your name is Moritz."

He lowered Moritz to the ground but he hissed and lifted his paws again. Roderich raised an eyebrow but soon understood.

"Oh, I see." He placed Moritz on his right shoulder. "Ja. I'm not much for dirty streets either." He looked around to see if his pursuer was around, pushing his hands into his pockets and walked down the street. He walked to a mechanic's garage and there were people working there, not at all noticing the man walk in. "Good afternoon."

They all turned their heads towards him, smiled and greeted back. "Afternoon!" they all said, in a cluster of replies. There were eight of them. They were all wearing pale tan jumpsuits that were dirtied with oil and bandanas over their heads.

"How was it today?"

One of the mechanics, with long, dark hair tied in a loose ponytail, went back to fixing a car engine. "Very slow today, actually," he said, suddenly petting the big, fluffy dog laying asleep next. "We're about to close up for the day. It is very close to sunset. Not a good thing to be mechanics in an open garage at night."

Moritz sprung up and went over to the dog cautiously, raising a paw at it. The dog jolted awake at the sudden scent of the cat and stared at it before his tail began to wag happily.

Another one of the mechanics, a younger boy bounced up from his place on a table and walked over to the pair of animals. "You got a cat?" The boy was fourteen years old, Korean with an odd curl of hair.

"Yes, he's a stray." Roderich replied.

A girl stopped rubbing a piece of wood with sandpaper and looked towards the Moritz and their dog who were playing.

"A stray? I thought you were all for cleanliness, Roderich." A Filipina, fourteen years old but looked around a year younger, wearing pilot style goggles on her forehead. Her hair was tied in a loose ponytail, much like Yao. "You know. Godliness and all that rubbish."

He walked over to the cat and picked him up, looking at him thoroughly. "Well, yes, Mika, I am. But the cat is also."

Yong Soo, the boy, came along and observed Moritz as well. "He does look like you."

"You're crazy."

"He does, hyung!"

"Hey, you two! Finish up, else no chestnut cake for either of you tonight." An older boy with calmer tone glared at the two younger siblings, through tinted orange goggles.

Mika and Yong Soo stiffened. "You can't be serious! We gotta get back to work!" The two ran back to their wood sanding. Yao tightened a few bolts and finally stood up. He wiped his hands with a rag and walked to Roderich, smiling and patting one of the younger but taller male's broad shoulders.

"How was it? Find a job yet?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"You really must put yourself out there."

"No other job will suit my talents. The bar needs a pianist but I'm under-aged! Too young for a bar, they said. A café would be nice but they all allow smokers by the time I get out. I can't win."

"Oh, my little Roderich. One day you will. But enough of that. I've got some serious news. It seems Ivan has a new plan. We're being followed. All of us." His voice was very low by that point.

"Don't call me that. And how do you know?" Roderich hushed himself also.

"Vash was right there on top of Ivan's office when he was discussing it with his sister…What's her name? Yaki? Whatever. They've sent out people to follow us—stalk us. Watch our every move. And then kill us dead, one by one. Starting with you, mister M.V.P."

"Don't call me that either. And who is to be stalking me?" He was very interested in Ivan's new plan.

"He's informed me that a woman named Héderváry has been sent. He didn't get the first name."

"Héderváry? Héder…váry…" It felt right to say the name. "That's a…It's familiar." He walked out of the room, muttering the name over and over. "Come, Moritz." And the cat bound after him, crawling up his pants, arm and onto his shoulder.

"Don't get into trouble, you crazy kraut!"

"Not German!" The Austrian was rather rude about that.

A boy with a bob cut and dark brown eyes, who wore only the lower half of his jumpsuit and had his chest exposed to the cool winter air, wiped the sweat from his forehead, got up and walked towards Yao. "He is very strange, isn't he, Yao?" he asked.

"Yeah, but you know him. He's been that way since he was little." He shook his head, smiling and turned to the others. "Li, Mika, Yong Soo, Mei, Badinton, Linh! We're done for today! Go out back and wash off!" They all cheered, put away their tools quickly with haste and ran out the back door. Yao and Kiku looked at each other before heading outside themselves. Out back, there were two faucets with three-foot tall concrete walls around the draining area.

Yong Soo and Li were dipping their heads under their own faucet and washing all of the oil, sweat, and grease from their faces and hair, whereas Mei, a Taiwanese girl and Linh, a Vietnamese woman were combing through their hair with their fingers. Mika was drying hers with a towel from a clothing line next to the faucet.

She was wearing her jumpsuit the same way that Kiku was but had a tank top on, which was a bad decision she had to admit. She was so sensitive to cold and she always picked out the clothes that as more suitable for warm conditions by habit. That was usually how it was and she'd have to go through the whole day shivering and rubbing her arms through her jumpsuit. Luckily, Linh or Yao or one of her friends gave her their jacket which she refused respectfully but took it anyway before they could recoil.

Mika was definitely the odd one out of the all eight of them. On her forearms was gauze, tightly wrapped and secured, from her wrists to her elbows. She constantly wore sneakers or boots if need be; never wore any gender-specific shoes. The least noticeable thing about her was right eye; it was darker shade than her left for a reason only she and Yao knew.

She noticed that Kiku and Yao sat next to her and looked at the elder with anticipation.

Yao sighed. "We shouldn't speak here. Who knows where those rats may be? We'll talk about it at HQ."

When everyone was washed off, they closed the shop and left as the sun went down. The eight walked along the sidewalk of a slightly busy street and finally stopped at a large building with Chinese characters on it with a translation underneath in caps: WANG DYNASTY. They all stepped in, greeting a beefy security guard that stood at the elevator who nodded in response. Li pushed a button and the chamber elevated, stopping on the fifth floor, which appeared to be a lounge with many people in it.

A blonde boy with glasses stood up after noticing them walk in and exclaimed, "Where have you guys been? We've been waiting like forever!"

"A-Alfred! Calm down!" The scrawny boy next to him, his twin brother held him back by his sleeve. He didn't seem to be noticed.

"Settle down. We're not late, you're just early for once," Yao chuckled.

"Well, excuse me for tryin' ta be good for once!"

"Al, calm down." Mika stepped in. "We're all so cheery you tried to be on time today, aren't we? Yes! Don't create a drama just because you can't check a clock and see that we're at least five minutes early."

In a split second, Alfred's scowl turned into a grin and he patted her head. "Alright, dude. I'll, you know, tone it down." Despite her protests, he pulled her in close, hugging her head with his arm as they entered the meeting room.

"I will now take attendance." Yao said, looking at a piece of paper with a series of names on it. "Angchuan."

"Here!" And he went on with list, calling the names of each of his group member and skipping over Roderich's as if he wasn't supposed to.

"And Zwingli. Vash."

"I am present."

"Hao! Now the meeting can start!" He plopped down in his large roller chair at the head of the table.

Vash's eyebrows went up. "Why isn't Roderich here?" he asked curiously.

The Chinese man turned his head to him. "Don't worry about it. I've already talked to him." Then he turned to the rest of them, scratching the back of his head. I should really give them assigned seats. They can never stay in the same spot.

To the right of his chair was Li, Mei, Yong Soo, Mika, Linh, Badinton, respectively who was sitting next to Ludwig, a tall fellow with blond hair an blue eyes. He sat next to a hyperactive Italian boy name Feliciano, who smiled whenever he got the chance and clung to him with every step he took, and his older twin brother, Lovino—or his preferred name, Romano—came next, glaring at Ludwig. Laura, a girl from Belgium, decided to sit next to Romano since he was her closest friend, save for her brother, Holland, who sat between her and Kiku.

The young Japanese boy was smiling adoringly at the larger man sleeping in the adjacent seat: Heracles Karpusi. Alfred came next, wondering why he hadn't brought a burger with him and then Matthew. Vash, who was looking straight at him, wondering why nobody sat in the seat next to him, was sitting with his younger sister Lily, along with Toris and Feliks, a duo that could never be seperated.

The seats curved all the way around the table and ended on Roderich's empty seat on the left side of Yao. He shook his head and cleared his throat, getting everyone's attention. "Now then, as said in Zwingli's reports on the Braginski Era, Ivan has sent out someone to assassinate Edelstein. A woman named Héderváry."

A few looked to Vash, who didn't look back. His eyes were cast toward his folded hands, his brows furrowed, his mouth twisted into a troubled frown. He seemed to be thinking of something upsetting.

"This is the only move he's made so far but there was mention of a plan. I'll bet that he's gonna send more of his agents out."

Alfred banged his fists on the table. "Why the hell is he pushing this war on us!"

Yao folded his hands. "I've known Ivan before. Way before this rivalry started. He's got some sort of inferiority complex. Can't stand it if he's not on top. Especially in this blasted war." He brought his folded hands up to his mouth. "I can't stand it! Why does he always start fights? He should know that we only attack if attacked!" He slammed his hands onto the table and stood up. "We won't be discouraged of how much warfare he has! Can't we take them?!"

"Yeah, dude! We'll beat them anytime, anywhere!" Alfred exclaimed.

"We can take anything they throw at us!" Yong Soo shouted with him.

Yao sat back down, slouching in his chair and smiling weakly. "God, I love your enthusiasm. But please settled down for a moment." The two rambunctious teens pouted and obeyed. "I can already see who some of the targets are."

"Will you at least tell us?" Holland was bored with the topic.

"Nope. I'll wait to see if I'm right!" They groaned and shouted at him but he only smiled like he always did.

"Like, that's so totally not far, Yao!" Feliks yelled, his hands on his hips.

"Patience is key, my students!" He recited the proverb with pride. "However, if they strike now, we won't be ready. So, starting tomorrow, we will be training from three in the afternoon to five. Am I clear?" Eventually, they all agreed grudgingly and with hesitation. The Chinese man slumped further into his chair and sighed. That was all he had to say. There was still fifty-five minutes left in the meeting.

Elizabeta didn't know whether it was her sense of fear or that foreign feeling in pit of her stomach that shook her as she locked the door of her apartment. And as she walked out of the apartment building, the feeling came and went. It was nighttime and all who were wise enough had retreated to their homes. The cold air bit at her cheeks and she shivered mildly into her scarf.

She walked down the street, ear buds plugged into her ears as she made her way to the subway station. She once again thought of the mission she had been assigned. It was probably the tenth time it'd come to her mind and it was starting to get to her. Never before had she been given a mission where she had to kill someone but she actually needed the money and even if she didn't need it, she would have no choice anyway. But she didn't want to kill anybody. How could she pull through?

The current song ended and in the silent interval, she was yanked from her thoughts as she heard—no, felt someone approaching her from behind. She pulled her ear buds out. There was a deep laugh that came soon after. It was a strange laugh that wasn't "hahaha" but more along the lines of "kesese." She recognized it immediately.

Elizabeta whipped around and searched for the owner of the laugh, as it continued.

She reached for the frying pan that hung from the side of her bag and closed her eyes. I know you're there. Elizabeta waited until she heard the laugh again to fling the frying pan in the direction of the sound. There was a clang followed by a yelp of pain. She turned as she heard a loud thud and saw the one who had fallen: a man with the whitest hair, holding his face and rolling around under a tree.

"Gilbert! Why are you following me?"

The man took his hands off of his face and looked at her, smirking. "To see where you're goin'," he said.

Elizabeta glared. "Absolutely none of your business."

Gilbert stood up and dusted himself off. "Aw, c'mon. Why're you being so secret-y?"

"Secretive, Gilbert."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Are you going to tell me or not?"

She rubbed her forehead and sighed. "I can't really tell you, Gilbert." The only people she was able to talk about it with were Natalia and Katyusha. And they were the closest to Ivan. It wasn't a good idea to tell Gilbert about any mission. It never was.

"Why not?"

"I can't tell you that either! I have to go." Elizabeta turned and started to run.

"Wait! Liz!" She stopped. "It's a mission, isn't it?" Gilbert asked, sincerity in his voice. "I-If it is, then…then just be careful, alright?"

She turned her head slightly to look at him. "Idiot, I'm not you."

Gilbert's pale cheeks colored red and avoided eye contact with her, despite the fact that they barely had any in the first place. "I just don't ya to get hurt." Then, he looked up at her as he stood and smiled as she came to him and he handed her the kitchen utensil weapon. "Besides. Once we're married, I'll have to go with you."

She grabbed her frying pan, slipping it into her backpack and rubbed her temples. "Gilbert. For the last time, you're not my type."

"Not yet. You'll adapt."

Gilbert laughed. The Hungarian sighed at the fool. She hugged him. His face became a darker shade of red. His arms began to shake and he lifted them to hug back but dropped the action. Elizabeta pulled away and smiled. "Thanks for being concerned. But I'll be fine." Before he could say 'no problem', she gently slapped his left cheek and went on her way. Gilbert pressed his hand to his face as watched her sprint away.

He raised the hand up and waved. "Bye, Liz!"

Still running, she waved back, smiling. He continued to wave to her until she disappeared. The hand soon found itself to his cheek again. "Wow…" A slap on the cheek was enough to give him butterflies; he wondered what a kiss would do.

"That was weak, non?" A suave, refined voice came from behind. Suave was all Gilbert could describe it as because of the light French accent that traced through it. "Don't you agree, mon ami?"

"Totally sappy, amigo…" A second voice came with a touch of playfulness and cheer with a Spanish tone. Gilbert turned around and saw two men with amused looks on their faces. One was tall with blond hair that barely touched his shoulders and chin stubble that matched. The other was a messy-haired brunette with beautiful tanned skin.

Gilbert put his hands on his hips. "Just what's so sappy about it? Huh? Francis? Antonio?"

"Oh-ho! The way you act around Elizabeta." Francis said.

"Seriously, amigo. That was a good chance to make a move."

"Ah, leave me alone about that. I'll ask her when I'm ready."

"You really shouldn't wait, Gil. She just went on a mission. To a different city."

"Your point?"

"His point, mon ami, is that she might actually find a guy on her own. She is pretty and we all know it. What if someone finds her and she falls in love?"

"Yeah, right. Like that'll happen. She can't get enough of me."

Elizabeta reached the subway station by 1000 and was on the 1030 train to New York City, along with a cluster of other people. It was an estimated three hours, give or take a few minutes. It didn't seem very long; the only thing wrong with it was that she'd arrive at around 1330, which wasn't really a time to be out at. She only hoped she'd get to a motel before anything could happen.

The car was crowded and she was forced to stand. It would be painful since this was a three-hour trip. She fell asleep standing, leaning her head on the poll.

When the train had finally come to a stop, an old woman shook her awake when almost everyone had filed out and she jumped as she awoke, nearly falling over because of her stiff legs. Thanking the senior citizen she ran out hurriedly into the station, her legs throbbing. And soon she was out on the streets, walking on weak, wobbly limbs in the night, rubbing her eyes tiredly and completely oblivious to the men skulking the streets.

She staggered to the right, but caught herself. Eyelids drooping, shoulders slumped, she could barely tell where she was going.

"'Ey. What's a fine honey like you doin' out so late?" A thick voice with a heavy New York accent chortled behind her. A heavy hand was placed on her shoulder, causing her to pause her walking. "Shouldn't ya be safe in a home? Why don' we head ovuh ta my place?"

The tired girl's brows furrowed and she turned. "Listen, wise guy, who do you think you—" She opened her eyes fully now and looked up at the man's face. "…a-are…?" she squeaked out. He was very tall; probably taller than Ivan. He towered over her and cast a shadow over her. The moon's light created a shine on the thug's shiny dome. He smirked down at Elizabeta.

She felt herself freeze in her spot.

Something in her, something that's been locked away for years finally came out—the tiny craven Elizabeta truly was. Many years before, when Ivan found her broken and bleeding from her head—an amnesiac lost in an entirely new world—who could blame her if the bigger figure that was Ivan had stood towering over her? She remembered it, clear as day. She could still feel how terrified she felt when those soulless eyes were on her, when that cold, rough hand brushed against her cheek in mockery of benevolence. The first thing she ever knew was fear.

Now here was someone larger than Ivan, actually willing to hurt her physically rather than mentally as Ivan had done. She looked him over. Her frying pan would barely make him flinch. Her gun was a bad choice. The cops monitored the Era like they were maniac and if she killed someone who hasn't done a thing (yet, at least) they definitely shut down the whole business. She could wound him. No. He's had a good look at her face.

"I-I don't think…" Elizabeta cursed herself for her stammering.

"C'mon, now. I don' bite…"

He reached for her but her instincts took control of her limbs and she grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm hard. He was more vulnerable than she thought. His upper body swiveled and he yelled. When Elizabeta realized what she'd done, she let go and he glared at her.

"You bitch…!" The Hungarain yelped as he lunged toward her and she dodged and ran as fast as she could, frying pan clanking inside her bag, the thug racing after her.

Roderich was slowly making his way home, each step a delayed, long stroke to the ground, letting every part of his sole touch the ground—from heel to toe. He was searching the filing cabinet that was his mind. He was going to remember if killed him. He wasn't sure if it was just something he'd heard somewhere or just a feeling that it was familiar. Moritz was cradled in his arms as the night began to grow cold. He stroked the feline's head caringly. "Hm. Héderváry. Héderváry…" The name rang through his head over and over, an echo from his mouth though his mind. He tried to remember but he came out with nothing.

What was so…interesting about that name? Why was he so engrossed with it? He didn't know and it made him feel as if he was lost or missing a piece in his puzzle.

"Damn. What is it about this woman?" He sighed. Moritz soon awakened grudgingly and crawled up Roderich's arm and shoulder and into the hood of his coat. "Oh, why am I fretting over this? There's no real reason. The name is probably trifling to me so I shouldn't be concerned."

Police sirens wailed past him and he shook his head as gunshots were heard. Roderich stretched his arms out, ceasing his stroll.

"In a town full of unruly, duplicitous hoodlums and gangsters, what surnames don't you hear on the late night news? With this society with so much hate and violence what would it matter if one name passed by from the policeman probably chasing after this ruthless woman in league with Ivan? I can't help if it slipped out of half-enunciation, of a slur or out of complete soberness! Of course, in a town like this, who can say which? For us knaves who are too naïve to understand all the honky-tonks and whoring can't distinguish the border between crime and sanity just yet. No. Not yet.

"Because despite all of the skullduggery and deceit, there's always a light somewhere; a tiny ray of sunshine radiating bright from the center of New York City, one that we choose to follow. Even so I continue to—"

"Excuse me!" A woman pushed past him, interrupting his monologue. As she did, he briefly caught a whiff of her scent, and in a flash she was gone.

…Maybe, she had somewhere to be. He raised an eyebrow.

"WATCH IT, PIPSQUEAK!" A large man nearly pushed him into the street as he passed. Roderich stumbled back but quickly regained his balance. Moritz was jolted awake and sank his claws into his neck out of reflex. He bit his lip to keep from screaming and causing a panic and reached behind his head, gripping the skin of the cat's neck. In reply, the claws were removed and sheathed.

"He's chasing her…" Roderich pursed his lips, almost adamant as he tried to keep the promise of keeping out of trouble but his subconscious forced his body to move and run after them. For what sort of gentleman would he be if he left a lady stranded?

Keep in mind that Elizabeta is pretty young in the beginning of this story: eighteen years old. So it's only right that I characterize her as a tiny bit afraid because she hasn't fully reached that shining manly adult that we all love. Roderich and Gilbert are the same age (19), considering the fact that I wanted these two to be considered equals, since Himaruya's note that Prussia was made to fight the same kinds of battles Austria was. By the way this is the first rewrite so tell me what you think, those of you who've read my initial writing. Please review!