Author: Cyhirae

Notes: Well a villain finally appears along with some of what they're after. Look, it's a plot! I blame this on reading about secret societies and some of the really crazy ideas people can come up with if you give them half a chance.

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine; good thing too. It'd be way too serious; about like this fic.


Gilbert steeled himself against the exhaustion that clung to his limbs, the sickness that wanted to rake at his insides. He knew what it meant; his people were faltering on this insane march and panicking. Somewhere not so far behind, the unnamed enemy was snapping at their heels, trying to find some trace of where they had gone as they had been for days now.

Thank God for inherent organization skills…His countrymen had come through in the end; the retreat was as organized as one could ask for when children and the elderly alike were involved. Technically they were in four groups; all traveling single file to keep it hidden just how many were in each band and to conceal what means of transportation they were using.

Maybe at least one of them would make it to Poland. They had radio contact between the lines, but it was kept to an absolute minimum, consisting more of short codes or clicks of sound than any extended conversation. The fewer details this faceless enemy got, the better.

Finally, Gilbert felt his legs refusing to properly hold his weight any longer. He waved to the General behind him, signaling it was time for a rest.

"If we keep going, we're going to lose too many…rest for a couple of hours." The General gave him a long, uncertain look…then turned to parrot the orders back to the men. Radios clicked and vehicles were called to a halt, then tucked under cover to keep any possible overhead scouts from seeing them easily.

People crowded beneath the make shift shelter of the covers, dropping gratefully to the ground to rest for even this short while. Poor air, tainted water and exhaustion were taking their tolls; Berlin hadn't been ready for this attack at all.

Germany hadn't been ready for this attack. None of them had.

"General; who the hell is it?" The rasped out question apparently caught the military man off guard; he turned back to Gilbert as the albino tucked himself under the tarp as well. He wanted to sleep but he had to know what was going on.

"…We wish we knew, Beilschmidt. We know the initial fighting began in Asia, but North Korea never had this kind of firepower." He shed the helmet he had worn in an effort to cool himself and Gilbert grimaced to himself. There was nothing to this man's appearance to make him 'stick' to Gilbert's mind. He was just another nameless, 'faceless' person on the herd Gilbert was tending to. If it hadn't been for the uniform lending him definition, he would have been no different than the civilians huddled under the tarps to him.

Not his 'boss' then; that oh so necessary place was still empty.

"We think someone 'lent' North Korea aid to use them as a smoke screen to get their own agenda rolling. If that's so, they're probably a smoking hole themselves by now." The General pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, then blinked as a pale hand was held out expectantly.

"Two things general; first, hand one over. Second, it's 'Gilbert', not 'Beilschmidt'. If you want to be all formal, you can call me 'Preußen' until you figure out what the hell we're going to call this bunch now that Deutschland's history." Gilbert tried to keep his voice light about it; but the note fell flat at his own reminder. The General, on the other hand, at least has the grace to look properly surprised at the 'title' he gave himself.

"Preußen? But that disappeared-"

"Over a century ago- yeah, I know, I know. It was pretty fricken hard to miss, thank you captain obvious. But as you can see I'm still here and now I'm whatever this bunch is gonna call themselves if they live long enough to pick a name. It happens." Why, he's not sure…but it had always been a strange mix of circumstances with them anyway. Most countries didn't adopt little brothers that used to already be a country and were on their way out. It usually happened before they were even properly 'born' as a country.

The cigarette is finally offered up and lit; he shouldn't be having it at all with everything else clawing at his lungs but if he was going to be suffering all the bad side effects anyway, he wanted to get something for it. They sit in mutual silence for a time, both mulling over situation.

"So after all the countries they've ripped up, no one knows a damned thing still?" Gilbert watched the end of his cigarette slowly creep closer to the butt; it wasn't a habit he'd much indulged but it distracted him for the moment. "Not even where their primary base of operations is?"

"Nothing; anyone we've sent for possible recon never comes back. The best we can figure is they're using a chemical weapon they've immunized themselves to or have a cure for from what bodies we have gotten back. They never get far past any taken country's border before they die." Gilbert tried not to wince at the sudden scrape of raw pain from this stoic looking man; he'd done it himself more than once. Sent his people off to die in the name of information and victory. "We doubt they even made contact with any of the people behind this."

"Then we're in- eh?" The albino paused at hearing a brief ruckus; people raising their voices in surprise, shock and anger. He starts to drop his hand to his gun, the General mirroring the move until a familiar voice suddenly cut through the air.

"Aah, let us through damn it! Bastards! Where's that potato bastard you all- get your hands off me, chigi!" If Gilbert had any doubts after the insult, that strange verbal 'tick' laid the last of them to rest. With a sigh, he took his hand off the gun and waved toward the disturbance.

"He's like me, General; from South Italy. -Lovino!" The disturbance got louder, though the General added his own voice to the fray, instructing the men to let the arrival through. Within moments, Lovino was all but storming towards them, someone in tow.

It isn't Feliciano, though. Gilbert blinked at the tiny figure being drug behind the bad tempered nation; Lili? Liechtenstein was here?

"Damn it, where is that wurst loving brother of yours?" Lovino comes to a halt with that in front of Gilbert, hand still firm around Lili's wrist. "Damned kraut! We were-"

"My brother's dead, Lovino- and you better shut that mouth of yours unless you want to join 'im! So where's yours?" Gilbert already knew the answer before he even saw Lovino flinch back, though. If Lili was with Lovino…then he could cross two more countries off his mental map of Europe.

They even got Vash? In that fortress he calls- called a country? Well, cold comfort that it was- at least Ludwig wouldn't have to deal with knowing he'd failed to keep his promise to Feliciano. He'd figured Italy was lost anyway- but Switzerland too? If anyone had been ready to repel an invasion, they had been.

"…They went straight for brother…." Lili's tiny voice suddenly piped up from where she stood behind Lovino, eyes haunted and hollow. Her short blond hair was ragged, the ribbon long since having lost any color. Her dress was hardly better than rags, bearing marks of both travel and warfare in the burns and tears liberally marring whatever picturesque doll's garb it might have been once upon a time. "They…they went after him first, then the governmental and military leaders…"

"She's right, kraut." The slur sounded half hearted suddenly, tacked on as Lovino urged her to sit with surprising gentleness. His own clothes were war and travel smeared; the loose shirt was hardly worth calling that anymore. The bruises, cuts and wounds of the battles he'd escaped painted themselves out across olive skin. Suddenly Gilbert didn't think it was such a bad thing Antonio was probably dead. He'd have gone insane to see what happened to Lovino. "It happened in Italy that way too…'Ciano was hit before the invasion even started."

"How can…people…like you die?" The General is just looking between us then, earning a sharp, ugly look from Lovino as he hovers over the weary looking Lili. "Aren't you-"

"If you're gonna say immortal, remember why I'm here instead of West." That came out sharp and vicious enough to make even Lovino blink at the albino as he stubbed the cigarette out. "We can die; usually it's because something major happened to our people to change them or another one of us struck the killing blow, but we can also be killed if one of you hits us hard enough. It used to be that it couldn't be done short of decapitating one of us- but people have gotten a whole lot more creative these days."

For all the flip tone, however, Gilbert's hands shook as he tossed the butt aside. The body of Ludwig had looked perfectly fine on the outside; it was inside the damage had lain. A precision strike with one of those chemical weapons- damn the coward who thought those up. Guns were bad enough; now chemical bombs?

"..We…we brought our people…" Lili's voice rose up again, weak with exhaustion and fear. "Lovino brought the Italians…I…brother's…"

"I get it, Lili; you've got Switzerland's and Liechtenstein's." Damn, more refugees to look after. Well hopefully some of Switzerland's military survived; it damned well should have if Vash's bragging about the whole country being an army had anything to it. Gilbert wasn't going to hold his breath on anything useful having survived in Italy. "What about Austria?"

"…It's gone." Lovino's own tone was now every bit as weary and exhausted as Lili's; the temper simply dropped flat as he sat down himself. He was bearing the full weight of what remained of his people, as Lili was bearing Switzerland's and her own survivors. Though those words just added that much more sudden weight to Gilbert's shoulders as he laid back on the ground beneath that tarp. "Some of 'em joined up with Lili when we passed through but most of them were too confused or shocked to get it together."

Gone? Even that stuck up priss is dead? He had lost track of how often he had fought Roderich and his people over the years; they'd never been the challenge Poland and Lithuania had been, but Specs had lasted despite his best (well admittedly sometimes half hearted) efforts. It had always seemed a forgone conclusion that there'd always be him, Roderich and Elizaveta at very least.

Gilbert fought down a sudden irrational desire to turn the march southward; not toward Austria but toward Hungary. Every fiber of logic he possessed as tactics went warned him against it, but he still couldn't keep himself from a least looking that way.

Pointless to even try, Gilbo, and you know it. He sighed at himself and just dropped back onto the dirt, eyes closed. If Roderich's gone, she is too…she wouldn't have sat back and watched it happen. Damn, damn, damn!

It wasn't at all cool or right for a German man to cry, let alone a Prussian. He'd told Ludwig that so many times when he was growing up. That was something sissies like Roderich did while playing their pianos and flutes. His eyes weren't wanting to listen to his reprisal of that admonishment, however. He could feel the burn of tears trying to form beneath the lids.

"Get in touch with your people and get 'em organized." Gilbert's naturally rough voice sounded hoarser yet as he laid there. "We're heading east into Poland; we'll keep going to Russia if we have to!" The thought of it made his skin crawl but the simple fact was there would possibly be no choice. Russia at least had a lot of land to hide and lay ambushes in; if Ivan agreed to help them, it had the right environment to possibly help turn this fight around and actually get some digs in back at these bastards.

They'd worry about the price tag later. It was better than simply dying, wasn't it? Maybe.

~ooOOoo~

"Something isn't going according to plan." Uniformed figures hustled about the table with its maps and diagrams as a more ornately uniformed woman leaned over the display. "The population collections from Italy, Switzerland, Liechtenstein and Germany are much further below the estimates was had for them."

"The people organized and evacuated quickly, ma'am." One of those bustling figures came to a halt at the woman's side, a folder offered up for her inspection. "We confirmed the death of the national avatars and governing figures of these countries, but the chaos that developed in the previous invasions did not fully manifest in these instances."

"Hmph…I would make a comment on true stereotypes if Italy weren't involved." The woman's lips quirked upward in a short lived smile as she paged through the folder. It was true; the people had organized much faster than was natural in these countries and had promptly fled in a reasonably organized manner. They had taken supplies and hidden their numbers as they went rather than heading off in a blind charge as panic would normally decree.

Someone is still thinking for them on a mass level…. She dropped the folder to the table then, scowling at the scattered papers. But who? The avatars were confirmed and eliminated; our research wasn't wrong for the other countries about the results. North Korea had been the test subject; helping it assist in the destruction of South Korea had indicated what an effective tactic removing the avatars was. Without them to give a step by step report of the country's state, the leaders had to rely on much less accurate reports from their own- or none at all if communications were disrupted.

A tool is only useful if you don't let it become a crutch, gentlemen. You forgot how to govern without those avatars. She turned and strode away from the table then, leaving her assistant to gather the papers back up.

"Dispatch a research team to each of the search missions; I want to know what happened." At his affirmative, she strode out of the room, feeling the carrier pitch and sway beneath her feet as she went. Soon enough they'd be able to have a proper land base; the United States had fallen, South America was falling country by country just like Europe was.

North America would finish falling when they could figure out where the hell Canada's avatar even was. Usually they were easy to pick out of a crowd if you knew what to look for, but this one seemed damned near impossible to locate. That had been the first snag in the plan, but it was one that would be corrected sooner or later.

Now there was a second snag; something was going very wrong in Europe. Maybe she shouldn't be too surprised; one would assume some of those avatars were far older than many of those they had already taken on.

"I should have expected Europe and Africa to be as difficult as China at the very least." She pushed open the door to the map room and stared up at the poster on the far wall. All of the countries that had been rid of their avatars were marked out there. So far, China's had eluded elimination…but then there was a great deal of land for him to hide in. She didn't want to have to drop enough chemical bombs to all but decimate the population beyond recovery to find him, either.

The idea was to kill only as many as it took to weaken and then eliminate these avatars, after all; not to destroy the population of the earth.

Europe showed signs of steady progress up until now, however. Though the countries that were giving the trouble had technically been seized and purged of their avatars, the people remained under something's sway…

"We'll find them eventually." She narrowed dark green eyes at the map then, lips set in a sharp frown. "Then we'll see who really rules this world."

~To be continued, one of these days.

Afterward: Yay for fanatics? Yes, this is an OC and not a country-incarnate but don't worry too much. You won't be seeing a whole lot of her- that would kind of ruin the story if I was giving too much away, wouldn't it?