Hi! This is my second fanfic and I'm still not really good at intricate plots, syntax, etc... you know, all those fancy literary devices to make a piece of literatue exciting and stuff. It's not that good in my opinion, and I hate the formatting on FanFiction, but I hope we can forget about that... anyways I hope you like it! Btw this should've been in the prologue but I'm too lazy.
~・~
Blue Foundation, Eyes on Fire
I'll seek you out
Flay you alive
One more word and you won't survive
~・~
"Ah," Mathias smoothly, eyes glinting. "I've encountered your people many times before, but never have I ever seen you… what's your name?"
"Bondevik." came the flat reply. Mathias chuckled slowly, his voice deep and smooth. It sent chills through Lukas.
"Well if it isn't our famous Lukas Bondevik," he said. "Leader? So am I." Smoothly he walked over, fingering Lukas's hair, then caressing his cheek. "Funny we've never met. I'd definitely remember someone like you." Lukas hissed and pulled away.
"Hand over the jewel."
"I see you're an efficient person."
"There's no point in wasting time here. Hand it over or I'll kill you." Mathias's lips curled in a smirk again.
"I don't have it. Tino over there has it, but all who underestimate him… meet their deaths immediately."
"So, I can measure him to your level and that'll be just about right? I think I'm fine, thanks."
"Not so fast." The Norwegian whipped around and pointed his gun at Mathias's chest.
"It'll go very fast," he whispered. "If you don't let me leave."
"I'm afraid not." A boom sounded throughout the whole building. It was his warning shot. Lukas pushed the gun against Mathias's chest again.
"You're lucky I'm in a decent mood today, Dane." He emphasized the word Dane with so much loathing that even Mathias couldn't help raising his eyebrows. "I normally murder in cold blood. And that's exactly what I'll do if you don't let me go." It was an empty threat. Lukas couldn't bring himself to. He couldn't. Eventually, as indigo and electric blue stared until the time was flowing away, Lukas settled for another kick to the solar plexus. Still, Mathias held. The Norwegian knew what that meant. He shot. Straight over the Dane's head this time, then to the left and the right. Mathias tackled Lukas to the ground, taking out a switch knife and holding it above his throat. He seemed to have trouble deciding something. In that moment of time, Lukas's fist went up and slammed into the side of Mathias's head. With a inhuman cry the blond man plunged his knife down, but with the blood obscuring his vision, he missed. It grazed Lukas's neck, leaving a shallow cut. He kicked up, hard.
And it went like this for the next half an hour, until both of them were covered in bruises, knife and scrape wounds and blood. Lukas could feel his vision blurring, so as a final attempt to save himself, he fired shots everywhere. Anything to get the police here.
The padlocked door dented. The walls shattered. The glass case that once held the emerald broke with an ear splitting crack. Immediately the alarm began blaring. The two criminals fled, expertly weaving away from the beams of police flashlights.
"Why are you following me?" Lukas hissed through gritted teeth.
"Why are you following me?" Mathias answered. He received a glare but the two kept running, until they nearly ran straight into a police officer. Luckily he was staring at the great marble stairs which they had just come off of. Then he turned.
And in a moment's time Lukas darted behind the door and a split second later Mathias was next to him. And together in the darkness of the night they waited, for what seemed like decades. As silently as they could, pressed against the cold wood of the door, until the police took endless pictures and streamed out the front. In unison they breathed a sigh of relief.
Pain cracked through the side of Lukas's face. Mathias had slapped him, hard. His electric blue eyes crackled with anger.
"You killed pretty much everyone," he snarled. "And I'll make you pay for it!" Thus the two entered into an empty handed duel again, with punches and kicks and scratches. Old wounds that had just stopped bleeding were torn apart again.
"Well, well," Lukas sneered. "Finally someone my match."
"You wish," Mathias growled back. Darting onto the top of a moving truck which, now that he thought of it, probably contained some valuable stuff, Lukas pulled out his submachine gun and shot straight down at his adversary. It got him in the shoulder. What? How had he missed the heart? Lukas didn't miss. He never missed. Yet, here it was, the bullet lodged deep in Mathias's shoulder. Furious Lukas shot again.
"Come up here, o Great Mathias Kø hler!" he shouted. "Come and get me, you coward!" Mathias, clutching his left shoulder in pain, didn't move but only stared up with so much hate that Lukas wanted to shrivel up in it.
"Come down and fight me, you son of a bitch." Lukas slid down the side of the truck and wiped the dripping blood from his cheek.
"Okay."
And so they did.
But no one could fight forever. Eventually Mathias collapsed from sheer exhaustion, coughing up blood and splattering the ground. Lukas glanced down at him. Satisfaction filled him and he whipped around, disappearing around the corner and vanishing into the woods. Berwald, Emil, and the others had driven the car away.
He had a long way home.
When Lukas finally turned through the labyrinth of alleyways to a plain little house that was vertically quite tall, he stood in front of the door and thought for a moment. His hands (he lost his gloves in the process) and face were covered in blood. How would he face Emil?
Slowly, he knocked the door. The peephole darkened.
"Wh's th'r?" a low voice called.
"Berwald, it's me, Lukas," Lukas said in hushed tones. "I'm a bloody mess so could you make sure Emil doesn't see?"
"I heard you, Lukas," the seventeen year old called. Lukas sighed.
"Okay, fine. But I look like a zombie." The door swung open a crack to allow the Norwegian entrance. It was a habit to never open the door past 75 degrees.
"Storebror!" Emil cried, wrapping his arms around his brother. "I told you to be careful, storebror!" Lukas tried to push him off.
"Don't hug me. I'll get your clean clothes dirty." But his younger brother clung to him, just like when they were young. When he needed a bedtime story about storebror's scary day at school with all the big kids.
Moved, Lukas eventually wrapped his own arms around Emil, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead.
"Thanks, Emil. Now let me go shower."
The steaming hot water fogged up the glass doors of the shower. Lukas washed away all the dirt and blood, and scrubbed until his skin turned pink. He tried massaging the bruise on his ribs because it was darkening rapidly but ended up cringing in pain and almost slipped. That would have been…
Disastrous.
Once the ointment was applied and all the wounds properly bandaged, Lukas slipped downstairs and it was only then he noticed the surprise visitor on the sofa. It was that idiot who broke Emil's wrist. Speaking of Emil's wrist…
"Emil!" The Icelandic stepped out of the bathroom, a toothbrush in his mouth.
"Hmmff?" he hmmffed questioningly.
"Is your wrist okay?" He nodded, looking at his right wrist, wrapped tightly in layers of gauze.
"Bbwolskud."
"What?" Emil tried again, this time some toothpaste dripping out of his mouth and onto the floor. Lukas rolled his eyes as he reached for the roll of toilet paper.
"Mm mm!" he grabbed it from his older brother's hands and motioned towards himself then the floor. Trying to hide a smile Lukas relented.
"Fine. You do it. Finish brushing your teeth then go to bed. I'll come up to you." Emil shuffled back into the bathroom.
"C'mp'nd fr'cture," Berwald said, entering the room. "Th' b'nes w're c'min' out o' his wr'st s' I took a look at it. I h'd t' take 'im t' the' h'spit'l. 'Nder fake ID's." Lukas clenched and unclenched his fists.
"Can we kill this Tino ass right now?"
"No," Berwald answered. "We n'd 'nsw'rs." Sighing, Lukas muttered,
"You shot him with a tranquilizer gun, right? Tie him up. Wait. What happened to your glasses?"
"T'no p'nched me 'n th' face'. 'M n't h'rt, though."
"Okay."
Exhausted, he dragged himself upstairs to he and Emil's room. His little brother looked not at all tired.
"Storebror, you and that Mathias guy fought after we left, right?"
"For nearly two hours," Lukas answered. Emil sighed sadly.
"It's too dangerous like this," he whispered. "You could've gotten killed."
"There's no other way, lillebror," the Norwegian person answered. I can't let him just squeeze in when he wants to. We cannot lose."
"There is another way, Lukas," Emil said quietly. "One that doesn't involve people dying."
"What?"
"Make him fall in love with you."
"What?"
"Yes. Make him fall for you. He'll do us no harm. Win his trust and then bam! Blow him to pieces."
"That doesn't sound very easy. You saw those eyes. Hard, cold, and steely. He's got a twisted spirit. He'd never love."
"I can bet all those people whose necks you snapped looked into your eyes the moment you twisted their heads up, and thought you were soulless. Because no offense, but sometimes you do look like that." Lukas was silent.
"If he doesn't try to kill me the next time he sees my shadow I can try." He wrinkled his nose. "Gross."
"There's a catch, though." Emil looked pained to say so.
"What?"
"If it all works, you might have to lose your virginity," he mumbled, embarrassed. Lukas froze. His mind somersaulted in thoughts that shouldn't be thought. Woah there. Slow down.
"What the fucking-!" Emil tried to calm his older brother.
"Hey, maybe not. It's hardly likely. It probably won't need to develop that far before you kill him. It's just a possibility. Oh, really, storebror, blushing like that! Come on, man up!" When Lukas finally quieted Emil continued. "If you really need to then do it. I'd gladly hand over my virginity to that white haired pink eyed devil if it meant Mathias could die. Once the leader's gone then it's over."
"Why don't you do it?" Lukas shot back.
"Because a leader for a leader, right? Mathias and I aren't even a match for each other. He'd kill me in an instant." Lukas knew Emil was right.
"... Fine."
"We'll call it 'The Plan'."
No one knew Alfred and Gilbert were telling Mathias to do the same thing.