So Okay, last chapter, Matthew's sight? My head canon: Matthews farsighted, horribly so, but that's what makes him an awesome sniper. Alfred is nearsighted as bad as Matthew is farsighted.
Day 3
Alfred.
"Are you sure?" Alfred asked for the hundredth time, looking around the abandoned trench entrance.
"For fuck sakes Alfred, yes I'm sure; I helped him plan the route!" Arthur snapped. He felt guilty; they had been searching for Matthew for days after they discovered that the men in the camp had been slaughtered and they had no word from Matthew, felt guilty that it had taken three days without word from anyone at the camp for them to come looking, he had watched Alfred comb the camp looking for any sign of his brother, upon finding none it was decided that he hadn't made it to the camp.
Now following the same route that Matthew had taken they came upon an abandoned German trench.
Alfred nodded before heading in, Arthur following after. A hundred feet in Alfred abruptly stops and bends down.
"What's wrong?" Arthur asked. Alfred stands up and holds out a pair of glasses in one hand, in the other is the pair of goggles Amelia had given Matthew. (Amelia Earhart & Alfred=BFFs)
Alfred face is dark as he stuffs the items into his pocket, before taking off deeper into the trench. Arthur has to jog to keep up with him, his worry now through the roof.
They walked into an abandoned camp; the only building with an actual door was locked up. That didn't stop Alfred from just ripping to thing off its hinges.
"Oh god." Alfred groaned holding his hand up to his mouth. Looking around him Arthur had the same thought.
The room was covered in blood, all of it around a chair in the middle of the floor. Alfred stepped in and started to survey the room when he noticed the set of dog tags lying on the floor next to the chair caked in dried blood. Picking them up he had to scrap away the blood to read the name, when he did his blood ran cold and anger clouded his vision.
He lashed out punching a nearby table and leaving a dent when he pulled his fist away.
"Alfred?" Arthur questioned carefully. Alfred said nothing just held out the dog tags; Arthur took them and read them.
"Matthew Williams… oh Christ!" He groaned rushing outside to spill the contents of his stomach. When he came back inside Alfred was looking around at all the different tables upon which held all sorts of different knives and whips. Matthew's bag slung over his shoulder from where he had found it tucked in the corner of the room.
"They tortured him here." He said hoarsely, attempting to hold back the nausea and worry eating away at him.
"Alfred we have to leave, the blood is at least three day's old, we need to go back and regroup with the others." As much as it hurt him to say it he knew he was right, he also knew that Alfred wouldn't think the same.
"Leave, we have to go find him England, who knows what they're doing to him now!"
"Alfred we don't know where they went, we need to go back and gather intelligence before running off on some half-baked rescue operation."
Alfred knew England was right, but looking around the room and all the blood covered torturing tools he felt he needed to do something; only he had no idea where they had taken his brother. Sighing in defeat he turned, taking the tags back from England he placed them around his own neck to sit next to his own.
"We'll get him back, even if I have to tear Germany down brick by brick with my bear hands."
Alfred would do it too. he would tear the world apart, because that's his bro, his neighbor, his partner in crime.