Yay! Another chapter! Happiness! I'm pretty happy with how long this is since I normally can't seen to get it over 4,000 words. But this! Over 6,000! Yay! *Pats myself on back*
Anyway, I really hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. I only own this plot.
Warning(s): Language. Un-beta'd.
Chapter 1
Viva la Resistance
"It's being here now that's important. There is no past and there's no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can't relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don't know if there is one."
― George Harrison
Landing on the concrete had actually kind of hurt and somehow, he had ended up in between two buildings and tried to lessen the blow by grabbing onto the side. His hands were rubbed raw and he could feel the cells in his body already working to heal it.
Looking out of the buildings, there was no sunlight. The roads weren't even met with the light of the moon and had to be lit with streetlights and headlights and other types of bright flashing signs that acted in place of the sun.
Number 50 could tell this little type of… Suburb was meant for those without too much money. Cars he actually sort of recognized passed by in speeds that had to be illegal. But then he remembered that this place is completely different from where he had lived and waved it off as this new world had no specific laws.
Voices and 50 pressed himself against the wall of a building and watched a couple holding hands pass by on the sidewalk, too engrossed in conversation to pay him any attention. For that, he was grateful.
"—be on the lookout for a man with blond hair, blue eyes and with clothes of all white—" Number 50 looked up to see a floating flat screen TV moving along the street and gritted his teeth.
Already he was on the news not even five minutes later.
He peeked his head out of the alleyway and looked both ways to find the coast was clear and slunk out, ducking and moving quickly along the sidewalk, pressed against the walls of buildings.
It was still dark and since the lights didn't meet every bit of land, he was able to stick to the shadows and not be seen immediately. Number 50 looked across an intersection and saw all the food joints. His eyes perked up the moment he saw the giant glowing M on a corner. If only he had money. It's been awhile since he's had a Big Mac.
Shaking away the thought, his blue eyes scanned the area as he stopped moving so he could cross the street.
So far, no cars were on their way through and he was happy to be in a not so popular part of town when he found there were only a few civilians walking along the sidewalk. All of them seemed in a hurry and were shuffling around, passing by buildings. Not a one glanced in his direction.
"—experiment 50 is missing. Very dangerous. Kill on sight—"
Another TV and this time, 50 took a look at it to see his picture on it. He took a moment to admire his looks but realized that it was a tad bit fuzzy.
Reaching up a hand, he felt around his eyes and cursed, damn it! They took away my glasses! The list on his agenda just kept growing. He needed new clothes now, glasses, food, a way to change his appearance…
So, first, he needed money. Or he could just rob—
No.
Out of the question.
He would not resort to stealing what he needed!
But, he supposed, if it came right down to it…
With a sigh, he continued running along side the buildings and across the street, glad to still not be seen. He wanted to go on the other side of the street to the other sidewalk but he was too nervous. He might get caught the moment he stepped foot out into the makeshift sunlight.
He looked ahead of him and his eyes went wide.
Damn it, it's the police!
Looking around, he realized that he wasn't anywhere near an alleyway and the closest one would result in him having to get close to the policeman and possibly get caught. It was only one, but this one looked different. He held a gun, but there was no helmet and none of that body armor stuff.
He was wearing what looked to be like a fully black suit mixed up with a uniform. The only color on him that wasn't black was his eyes and hair and pale skin.
Number 50 didn't have much time to look at his appearances, plus he was too far to make out just every single detail.
He pressed himself straight against the building and inched closer.
He imagined he looked like a ballerina, the way he was walking. Trying to tip-toe, trying to be soundless, as he skulked down the shadows on the sidewalks. It wasn't an image he much fancied. Still, looking like a tit was better than being caught, Number 50 supposed.
The policeman continued walking, gun pointing down at the sidewalk as he leisurely made his way towards 50 without even realizing it.
And, that's when an intense pain overtook Number 50's entire foot.
So close to crying out, he ignored the piece of glass he stepped on and tried to keep from limping and from making Satan's shard of hell dig any deeper. There was only so much he could accomplish.
That's when a thought occurred to him, it is surprising the policeman hasn't seen him yet! This white he's wearing has to be just about glowing in the dark but it seems as though the man isn't even paying attention to what's around him.
Not that he was complaining too much.
It just seemed a little too good to be true.
Number 50 could just feel the blood dripping from his foot and it couldn't heal because of the damned piece of glass!
So… Close… He thought—blood still pouring—as his hand was able to make it into the alleyway but the guard was too damn close! That's when he heard footsteps behind him, loud, heavy and fast. So, with a heart about to burst out of his chest, he made a go for it and got inside the dark as shit alleyway and watched as the group of 5 guards—clad in this stupid armor—run by.
It didn't even process that the one policeman hasn't made an appearance of walking by yet.
Number 50 chuckled to himself and ripped the damned piece of glass out of his foot and tossed it aside with a glare. "Stupid thing." He whispered.
"Hey—"
"GGYYYAAAA! I'M NOT WHO YOU THINK I AM!" Nice save. Number 50 was close to just slapping himself. Turning around his eyes widened further when he noticed that now he was staring down the barrel of a gun and watching as red smoke steamed out.
"Experiment 50." Was all the man said and 50 picked up on an interesting accent…
The gun was lowered and 50's eyes zoned in on icy-blue. Those unusual eyes pierced his own before they moved and looked at his bleeding foot that was already healing.
"Hm." Was all he said before he passed 50 a small rectangle box that was snug in his back pocket. "Maybe we'll meet again." He said and walked out of the alleyway, looked both ways and left.
Number 50 raised an eyebrow, is this a trick? He slowly lifted the top and then tore it off when he saw its contents.
Inside was a buttload of hundred dollar bills, on top of it all was a pair of glasses. He put the glasses on and looked around to see everything—finally—clearly. Under the money was two cards. One that looked like a credit card and another.
It was clear but when he moved it side to side, he saw a glitter of letters on it. They were clear as well and he couldn't seem to get the letters to show up. He sighed, about ready to flick it away when the letters began to glow blue, the same color he is able to conjure up.
Rtnc-351543
-Experiment 50-
We can help you
Go Here to be Safe
155840 quadrant 2 city sub-section B
Alright, he wasn't even going to ask how they—whatever they are—were able to find him this quickly and why they want to help.
Somehow, he felt he could trust what was on the card.
But how to get through a city he has never walked the streets of?
He'll just have to get clothes later.
…..
Ever since the card had begun to glow, he's been seeing these footprints on the ground, in the same glowing color of blue. He didn't see them before and he was a tad bit suspicious…
But maybe it had something to do with the card clutched in his hand? Or it was a trap, maybe he will get killed, maybe he will get captured again… But he has to take the chance, doesn't he?
He'll get caught either way if he is alone.
Perhaps they really can help him.
Or maybe he will just bring trouble to them.
Number 50 looked up and around him; still, no one was around. He had realized the further he walked, the further he got away from the population and cars. Now it was silent except for his bare feet hitting the pavement.
The fog was pretty thick, too.
He was just happy to finally be able to see—since he had his glasses now.
The footprints on the sidewalk continued to glow and they seemed brighter because of the fog and darkness that surrounded him. It occurred that perhaps this really could be safe since it seemed this area of the city was completely avoided.
One step forward and the temperature dropped phenomenally. Fog still surrounded him but now his breathe seemed to freeze right in front of his face and he began to shiver. His clothes—not that there was much he was wearing—weren't all too thick and he wasn't wearing anything to cover his feet.
The sidewalk was freezing and he crossed his arms and rubbed his hands over his biceps, looking around as the fog was starting to dissipate.
50 saw that the tall structures here were what looked to be abandoned. Some windows from what he could see were broken and then boarded over. This place held just about no light whatsoever, no streetlights or those weird floating TV's…
To be honest, he was feeling just a bit frightened.
Maybe there were ghosts…?
NO! No, there couldn't be.
Ghosts aren't real.
…Right?
Some kind of shadow appeared at the side of 50's eye and he turned to find that it was nothing and gave a sigh of relief but the tenseness in his shoulders didn't cease nor did the hair rising on the back of his neck.
Footsteps.
Number 50 spun around but couldn't find anything. But those footsteps still continued and it was beginning to really freak him out.
That giggle…
Without a word, Number 50 turned back and began to walk a little faster and when he could feel eyes on him and he felt whatever it was getting closer, he started to jog.
Then full out run.
It sounded like the giggling was right by his ear. So with one last ditch effort, he pushed passed a building and ran down an alleyway.
A light flickered on above him.
Number 50 took a look at his surroundings, when did I go into a room? He thought and vaguely remembered how he had ran through and opened door and slammed it shut.
"Number 50."
"AAGGGHHHH!" He screamed, voice pitching an embarrassing level and turned to get a face full of blue eyes and shoulder length blond hair.
The man before him covered his ears and winced from his scream and then patted him gently on the back, "You alright, there, mon ami?" He asked, concerned. That accent sounds pretty darn familiar.
"Uhhh…" Number 50 scratched at his nape, "Y-Yeah. Sorry, you scar—startled me." He laughed nervously.
"Ohonhon~ It's perfectly alright, mon cher!" The man began walking away and 50 reached out to him.
"W-Wait! Who are you?"
"Ah, I'm Francis! How rude of me not to introduce myself! Now, come this way s'il vous plait." Francis waved his hand towards him and Number 50 nodded, walking after him.
He wondered where they would be going. This room didn't even hold a door besides going outside. The walls were concrete and cracked. There was a couch in there, too, but it was ripped and torn apart. Besides that, there was nothing else. Number 50 looked back to Francis and watched as he nodded once, twice, three times on the door then did this complicated knocking sequence that 50 would never remember.
The wall opened, opened, and Francis walked inside. Number 50 stared at it as a bit of fog emerged from within.
Then, Francis reappeared with a raised eyebrow, "Are you coming?" He asked and 50 shook out of his daze and nodded, following the man through the opening in the wall. It was a long hallway and when he turned to find the door was shut again, there was no one there that would've opened it or closed it.
He was spooked.
He's seen quite a bit in his life time but that kind of stuff, the stuff he's seen in movies when a couple went through a door that opened by itself… Nothing good ever came after that.
He turned back to where he thought Francis was to find that he was gone. Oh no, oh shit, they got Francis! They got him! Oh, god, I'm next. I'm next! Please, no. I want to go back! And right as he was about to start running back to the door that had magically opened and closed, a hand landed on his shoulder.
Too scared to scream or react fully, he fell to his knees and felt dizzy. Number 50 looked up to see—none other than—Francis. "Why?" 50 rasped, why do people keep sneaking up on me! He thought. He had just about fainted at that but he held strong!
"Désolé, mon cher. I did not mean to startle you." Francis said, his eyebrows bunched in concern.
Number 50 nodded and took deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.
"Are you alright?" The man asked and that is when 50 jumped up, ignored the black spots that entered his vision and gave a beaming smile and thumbs up.
"Yeah! I'm all good! I was just messin' with you, ya' know? Ha…haha. It worked! So… Yeah, let's keep goin', shall we?" Number 50 laughed nervously, again, eyes darting at every corner and towards the small shadows.
"Oui." Francis nodded and took 50's hand, leading him to a door that he didn't even realize was there. "It seems I must hold your hand like a child." The man laughed, making number 50 blush.
"I'm not a child!" 50 snatched his hand away. "I can get around just…fine…" He breathed, taking in what was around him. Below, looked like another city. This one was smaller, the complexes weren't so tall. It was… It was like a city he used to live in. People bustled around, there was a market, a McDonalds, Wal Mart…
"Oh my GOD!" Number 50 yelled and bounced up and down.
"Calm down, mon cher! Jumping like that could break the stairs." Francis grabbed onto his shoulders and motioned to the metal stairs they were standing on. They were far up from that city and he wanted down. He wanted to be there!
The city was definitely small. Only two neighborhoods but… It seemed enough.
"Where… W-Where are we?" Number 50 asked.
"We are below the City of Ur. I like to call it The Cellar. Ohonhonhon~ I find it pretty ironic, don't you?" Francis laughed, pulling number 50 down the stairs carefully. He was still finding it hard to concentrate on walking when he could just see a few children with families.
"How many people are here?" 50 finally asked.
"Not too many. A little bit over 60. We aren't much, I'm afraid." The man shrugged his shoulders and when they reached the bottom, he had to grab onto 50's arm to keep him from wandering off. "Don't get too excited, there. We have to get you changed." Francis wiggled his eyebrows.
"Uh… Okay, yeah, sure! After can I go see the rest of the city?"
"Tomorrow. I still have to get you introduced to the rest of us!" Francis chuckled and walked into a house, pushing number 50 down onto a couch. "Now wait here, I have to go check the back and see if he is here." The man left the room to go down a hallway, leaving Number 50 alone.
He took the time to take in what there was. It was a small living room, the house itself was pretty small, from what he could see. A 42" flat screen TV was across from him, connected to the living room was a kitchen with all the normal necessities—fridge, stove, sink, etc—and then the hallway Francis had disappeared into.
The walls were a faded pale green and the carpet was a simple white. It matched his clothes except his were now dirty. Hopefully Francis has something he could fit into.
"Ah so it—" Francis started and then stopped when he noticed how high Number 50 had jumped, then he continued, "So it seems that he is not here at the moment. That is good, though! We can get you dressed and ready to meet him! It wouldn't do to look like someone who just escaped from an experimental lab now would it?" Francis smiled.
"But I—"
"Shhh, shhh… It's okay. Now come, follow me." Number 50 did as he was told and they went to a back room. He found that the house was bigger than he originally thought.
"How many people live here?"
"Sept." Francis answered, holding up seven fingers. "This is my room." He said and gestured to the gaudy bedroom. The walls were painted with various things from flowers, people, cars, trees… The bed was like a tent and that was it besides a bedside table that held a lamp.
"Where's the—" Number 50 started but stopped when Francis opened another door into a very long walk in closet. They both walked inside and there were so much clothes! About as much as Number 50 would see in a department store!
"Impressive, non?" He winked and started to shuffle through some shirts and pants. Quickly, he picked out a pair of black skinny jeans and a black button up shirt. "I believe this will do?" Francis asked, holding it up for the other to see.
"Yeah, looks pretty rad." Number 50 nodded his consent and then was led out of the closet and through another door. The lights went on and he saw it was a bathroom.
There was a Jacuzzi, a shower, and all the other things you'd expect in a shower. This looked just as gaudy as the bedroom as just about everything was chrome. Francis set 50 down onto a toilet and got a box out from under the sink.
"This is hair dye. We have to change your hair color if you are to not be recognized the next time you enter the City of Ur." Francis explained and when number 50 nodded hesitantly, he added, "I will be able to change your hair back to its normal color any time you'd like."
"Alright, go ahead." Number 50 shrugged his shoulders and Francis began to get the hair dye ready, mixing the powder with the solution then shook it.
The man put on some gloves and had Number 50 straddle the toilet so he could be able to reach the back of his head. The hair dye was cold when it touched his roots but ignored it in favor of listening to Francis's humming.
"Ah! So, Number 50… Is that your only name?" Francis asked and then 50 perked up.
"Oh! No, I'm only called that because, obviously, the people that one place—"
"Dots."
"Yeah… That. Anyway, they are the ones that called me Number 50 and Experiment 50." Number 50 sighed and then continued, "My actual name is Alfred F. Jones!" He said proudly with a large smile.
"Alfred! Such a nice name…" Francis murmured and his gloved fingers began to rub against Alfred's skull once all the dye was in and it had the man just about purring. Then, suddenly, his fingers were gone and he was rinsing off his hands. "You have to wait half an hour before you can take a shower."
"Okay…" Alfred nodded and made himself more comfortable on the toilet and watched as Francis left.
What am I supposed to do to fill the time? He thought with a sigh.
To be honest, he was pretty excited to meet the others. Francis seemed nice enough…
He was still a little suspicious about how they knew who he was and everything but he guessed he couldn't overlook it. Francis was going out of his way to disguise him and give him clothes, so why not?
Alfred began to get jittery and his leg started to bounce. His eyes kept darting all over the room, taking in his surroundings. It was unusual. It was hard to believe he even got out of there alive! He was starting to feel fatigue over using so much power to get out.
His memory of how exactly he got out of that tube was pretty fuzzy.
All he remembered was that when he was able to stand upright, everybody in the lab was dead. He didn't question it and got out as quickly as he could.
In fact, it still amazed him how he went so long without running into anyone and the only time he got caught up with a guard was when he was able to stand without holding himself up on a wall.
Once more, he didn't want to question it and count it as just good luck.
"It's been thirty minutes." Francis reappeared and he guessed Alfred was getting used to him popping up randomly because this time he didn't jump and only nodded, lifting off his shirt. Francis wiggled his eyebrows and he smirked. "Let me show you how to operate the shower." He said and got close to Alfred to show him about the hot and cold works of the taps then left.
Alfred took off his pants when the other left, closing the door and got into the shower, sighing when the warm water hit his chest. Turning around, he began to rinse the dye out of his hair and watched the black substance run down his body and to the drain.
He's only dyed his hair once before, when he was dared. He had dyed it red. Good times, good times.
Once that was done, he decided to use Francis's shampoo and conditioner. It smelled like roses and he liked it.
When he was out and dried off, he wiped the fog off the mirror and gasped.
His hair was black.
And he looked good.
With the towel wrapped loosely around his waist, he began to make faces at himself in the mirror and asked the universal question…
Would I do me? He thought and flexed his right arm.
Yes. He winked and then asked…
Now, would I do me if I was the same sex? He flexed both muscles and beamed.
Why yes, yes I would. Laughing to himself he about shrieked when the bathroom door burst open and he struggled to keep his towel up. Francis stood there.
"Here, I forgot to give you a pair of boxers. You can borrow my friend's." Francis smiled and turned to give Alfred a bit of privacy. The other didn't even notice when the blond peeked and his smirk widened at what he saw.
With the boxers on, he turned to put on the pants. They were tight but comfortable all the same.
"Let's get that hair dry." Francis said, taking out a hair dryer and had Alfred sit down on the toilet once more. The loud sound of the hair dryer filled the silence and Alfred concentrated on those hands going through his hair, drying it. It felt good. It was always a wonder how good it felt when someone messed with his hair.
Not too long and his hair was dry and the dryer was turned off. Alfred stood and picked up his shirt, slipping it on and buttoning it up, leaving the last two buttons left undone.
"Here's your glasses." Francis handed him his glasses and he wondered vaguely when they were taken off but shrugged it off.
Once they were on, he was led back into the living room, given the remote to the TV and Francis busied himself with other tasks.
Alfred watched cartoons.
He was happy to know Bugs Bunny was still popular and on the TV. He was sure it would have been taken off the program.
His ears picked up voices outside the front door and he tried to listen closely.
"P-Peter! Stop squirming!" Came a deep voice and then another, child-like one.
"I'm not, you jerk! Ow!"
Alfred watched the door warily and jumped when it burst open. A man with blond hair, green eyes and caterpillars stuck to his forehead walked in with a little boy on his back, lighter hair, blue eyes with matching caterpillars.
The little boy—Peter, Alfred assumed—was dropped carelessly on the floor.
"That was rude!" Peter shouted.
"Tough luck!" The elder replied, neither of them noticing Alfred sitting on the couch.
Francis chose that moment to saunter in, wearing absolutely nothing and ran up to the other, hugging him with a cry of, "Arthur! You're home!"
"PUT SOME CLOTHES ON! My eyes are burning." Arthur cried, shoving Francis off.
"That's from my sizzling figure." Francis replied with a wink.
"No, it's not! Put some bloody clothes on!"
"But mon cher, they chafe my beautiful skin."
"I don't care! Put. Something. On. Now!" Arthur started to shove Francis down the hallway, the other laughing the whole way.
Alfred then locked eyes with Peter.
Peter smiled and plopped down on the couch. "So, are you Experiment 50? I thought he had blond hair!"
"I did, but Francis dyed it."
"Did he molest you?" Peter suddenly asked.
"Uhh, what?"
"You know, did he touch your butt or try to kiss you like he always does to Arthur?"
"Um… No, no he hasn't." Alfred coughed.
"Really? That's not like Francis at all…" Peter murmured, looking concerned. "Maybe he's losing his touch."
Alfred, not knowing how to respond, just shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention to the TV until Arthur walked out with a fully clothes Francis in tow.
Arthur sat down next to Alfred and Francis sat on the arm of the couch.
"I heard that you're Experiment 50, or also known as Alfred. Whichever you prefer." Arthur said, his arms crossed.
"I prefer Alfred but yes I am!" Alfred beamed.
Arthur said nothing for a moment, eyeing the now raven haired man then looked up to Francis and pointed an accusing finger at him, "Did you molest him?"
Francis gasped and clutched at his heart, "Mon cher! How could you think that of me?"
"You've done it to everybody who lives here and probably the whole Cellar." Arthur retorted, green eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Francis laughed and flipped a piece of his hair from his face, "Non, dear Arthur, I have not molested him. Must you make it so vulgar sounding?" He pouted.
"There's no other way to say it. If you molest someone, you molest them." Arthur rolled his eyes then got up. "Anyway, I should probably begin cook—"
"NO!" Francis and Peter yelled simultaneously. Arthur's bushy eyebrows raised up in question and slowly he sat back down.
"Alright then, do you plan to cook?" He asked Francis.
"Oui!" Francis replied, immediately making his way to the fridge.
As he got fancy with the spices, the others got busy with watching TV.
Alfred felt awkward. Arthur and Peter didn't seem to really want to talk too much and he was too nervous to break the silence. He was squished between two people he didn't know and he was starting to get fidgety. What was he supposed to do? Arthur seemed pretty strict and this wasn't his house so Alfred didn't want to do anything to upset them…
Alfred was stuck.
Damn it.
He about sighed with relief when the door burst open and an obnoxious voice yelled, "The awesome me has arrived!" A man with white hair and red eyes walked in, shark-like smirk in place. Those crimson eyes landed on Alfred and he froze. "W-Woah…"
Alfred didn't have much to say.
The two tallest out of the group said nothing, their faces completely stern. One wore glasses and the other Alfred recognized.
"HEY! You're that one guy that gave me the card and stuff!" Alfred announced, pointing to the man with slicked back platinum hair and icy blue eyes. The man turned to him,
"Ja, it was me." Was all he said, voice guttural as he sat down at the table in the kitchen, the white haired man following. The man with glasses and light blond hair said nothing, sitting down with the others.
The other was another blond man—what's up with all the blonde's?—with dark brown eyes and he gasped.
"Oh! Hello!" He smiled and walked over to Alfred to shake his hand, "My name is Tino!" Tino introduced and then pointed to the man with glasses, "That's Berwald," Berwald nodded stiffly, then he pointed to the white haired male, "That's Gilbert," Gilbert smirked with a small laugh and then he pointed to the one with icy blue eyes… "And that's Ludwig!" Ludwig said nothing, staring ahead of himself.
Those eyes…
Alfred shook off whatever thought he had when Arthur burst, "Ludwig, I need you to punish Francis! He tried to rape me!" He yelled, pointing at the man he was accusing.
"What! Non!" Francis yelled, shaking his head as he turned away from his dish.
"Well, let's all weep for Arthur." Gilbert said and rolled his eyes. "Give me a moment to take out my smallest violin."
Peter turned to Alfred, "Hey, how did you get out of Dots anyway? None of the jerks will tell me."
"Um… I'm not sure. I kind of just, got out?"
Tino started to giggle. "Nooo! You think you just got out of there all on your own?"
"My wife's right." Berwald said, facial expression never changing.
Alfred scrunched his brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Tell 'im." Berwald nodded his head to Tino and he smiled.
"Alright!"
"Hey! Quit shoving me." Tino complained.
"I'm sorry, wife. It's cramped." Berwald replied, wanting to hug the smaller man but couldn't. They were in the ventilation part of the building, crawling through the vents and trying to find the room Experiment 50 was in.
"Yeah…" Tino pursed his lips and grunted when he pushed through and got stuck. "Oh—" he started but gasped when the metal collapsed and they fell through.
Tino gave a shriek and both groaned when they hit the floor. They both could hear voices of alarm and one said,
"Hit the alarm!"
Berwald jumped to action and brought out his gun, shooting a man but he already hit the button.
"Damn it." Berwald grunted and Tino went over to the preservation chamber, hitting the red button besides it that had the steam coming from the edges of the tube. Tino took out his gun as well and they sighed when guards started to come inside. It wasn't too many but they only had so many bullets and if they had to stop to reload then they would most likely get killed.
A bullet grazed Tino's arm and he gave a small cry of pain but otherwise ignored it and shot the man in the head for hurting him. The man's head exploded from the impact of the bullet and the smaller man puffed his bottom lip in disgust.
Their bullets began to run out and it was a good thing that Experiment 50 chose that moment to wake up.
A bang was sounded besides them and Berwald looked to see 50 hit the glass and he started to run with the clear part of the tube at the guards and knocked a few of them down, picked up one of their guns and shot the remaining few.
Experiment 50 turned to them before falling to the ground when his dizziness finally caught up with him.
"Hey! Number 50, we'll go on ahead and clear the way. Don't take too long to follow!" Tino called as both him and Berwald reloaded their guns then ran out the door, shooting anyone that came by.
Alfred stuck his tongue out in concentration, "Oh… Yeah, t-that…" He said, nope don't remember.
"Dinners ready!" Francis announced and the remaining three got to the table and sat down, practically drooling when a plate was set down in front of them.
"YES! I'm starving!" Alfred said, salivating at the sight of it. It looked delicious and he hasn't had a decent meal in awhile. This smelled really good, too. Once everybody had a plate and began eating, he practically inhaled his as he asked, "Is…mmf…mmmf…le…mmph?"
They all just stared in what Alfred assumed was awe. Yes, I can talk and eat at the same time; I'm talented like that. "What?" Arthur asked.
Alfred repeated himself, chewing and gulping down the food. He must be struggling with his English. Francis shook his head and with a big sigh, Alfred set down his fork and knife and said, "I said, do any of you know if my family would be here?"
"Um…" Arthur started and cleared his throat. "I'm not sure, Alfred. There aren't many people by the last name of Jones here."
Alfred frowned.
"If they are still alive, they would be in the City of Ur. Not down here in The Cellar." Francis said and the others nodded in agreement.
"But are you even sure they would still be alive? Haven't you been stuck in TOABF for over a hundred years or so?" Gilbert said, setting down his fork on his finished plate. "I don't know of many people that aren't like the awesome me that can live that long."
"They have to be alive!" Alfred said, becoming desperate. "My family was just like me!"
"Then if that is the case." Francis said, swallowing food, "Then as I said, they would be in Ur. Not here."
Alfred eyed the last bite on his plate and furrowed his brow. What if—NO! I will not think like that!
"I'm leaving, then." Alfred announced.
"What?" Arthur coughed on his food.
"I said, I'm leaving. I don't want to be down here if they are up there."
"That's insane!" Arthur said, looking at Alfred like he had grown two heads. "I rarely go up there and if I try, I'm chased back down by guards! You'll get killed."
"I can defend myself. I'm going to leave and that's final. I have to find my family. My Ma and brother could be out there! I can't just leave them there to get caught by the guards because they are trying to find me!" Alfred said and got up. "I need to leave immediately."
"Can't you wait till tomorrow?" Francis tried with a frown tugging at his lips.
"No… This is something I got to do. Thank you for the clothes and the food and everything, guys! I really appreciate it. I'll be back, though, ya' hear? I just need to find my family." Alfred pushed his chair to the table and waved to everybody still sitting. "I'll see you later." He said and headed for the door.
Everybody was silent until the door was closed.
Only the sound of forks hitting the plate filled the silence.
They waited for a moment until someone spoke up.
Francis and Arthur turned to Ludwig and at the same time, said, "Follow him."
Ludwig nodded, excusing himself from the table.
To Be Continued. . .
Fuahahaha! It's not too much of a cliffhanger but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! Leave a review, favorite, alert, all that good stuff! It makes me a happy camper to know people are interested in my story :)