Not quite sure how I feel about this one... Oh well!
C05PL4Y: Aw, thanks!
Guest (1): Nothing as of right now, but... Who knows? Not me, that's for sure.
fandomartist347: Your wish is my command! Enter France! I'll probably pull England in, and Russia too, since Canada and Russia are hockey buddies.
WindSakura: Eventually, yeah, we will, but probably not for a while, if ever. I'm not even fully positive. He just kinda went cuckoo for cocoa puffs, ya know?
Demiraine: Thanks! America is being a little scary, huh? Not as creepy as I originally intended, but I think it works better like this =)
NietzWannabe: Yeah, Kuma... He's in trouble. And Alfred is TOTALLY jealous of Kuma, and it weirds me out a little too. But that's okay, right?
Guest(2): Yeah, believe me, they will be. France is kinda in shock right now, but... We'll see how the others react, da (*hinthint* *nudgenudge*)
AphHetaliaLover: I don't think anybody is gonna save Mattie for a little while yet, but that all depends on how short I want this to be=)
I hope you guys enjoy this one!
#3
"Mr. Williams!"
The desperate cry echoed up to Matthew's bedroom. Matthew still, lifting his head from Alfred's shoulder and trying to shimmy out of Alfred's lap. One of Alfred's arms slipped down around Mattie's waist to hold him in place.
The other went to his gun holster. Alfred pulled out the gun, flicking off the safety. He wrapped that arm around the now-stiff Matthew, "Don't worry, Mattie," Alfred muttered soothingly, "I'll protect you."
'I don't think he's the one I need protecting from…' Matthew thought, squirming as much as he could with the electric bolts of pain shooting through him with every move he made. Several sets of footsteps could be heard running up the stairs. Alfred adjusted his grip on Matthew, still oblivious to the Canadian's dislike of the situation, the barrel of the gun brushing against the small of Matthew's back. Matthew shuddered again, a sob ripping out of him as another wave of bombs fell down on his provinces' capitals.
"Mr. Williams! Are you here?" someone called out, entering Matthew's room cautiously, gun ready. He spotted America almost immediately, moving to shoot him—
-but America was faster.
BANG!
The man fell to the ground, his eyes blank, a gaping hole between his eyes.
Matthew winced, turning away from the corpse and renewing his attempts to twist out of Alfred's embrace. Alfred rubbed Matthew's back, misinterpreting Matthew's actions once again, "Shh, Mattie. You need to stay still, or you'll make me miss my shot. You want it to be quick for them, don't you?"
Matthew didn't respond, letting his hair flop over his eyes as he stared fixedly at the barely-breathing form of Kumajirou. 'Mon Dieu,' Matthew thought, 'What's wrong with him?'
He could hear more people approaching his room—they had yet to climb the stairs to the second floor, but they were getting close.
Matthew grabbed Alfred's arm, shifting between his legs to try and attract Alfred's attention, "Alred…!" Matthew whimpered, tugging on his arm in vain, "Stop, Alfred! This isn't necessary!" Matthew begged, tears still dripping down his face. The blood from the corpse was slowly spreading across the floor of Matthew's bedroom.
Somewhere in the back of Matthew's mind, a calmer part of him was already thinking about how impossible it would be to get the blood out of his soft, grey carpet. His eyes strayed, unbidden, to Kuma's limp form.
There were small spots of blood surrounding Kuma—
-who was awake and staring right at him.
"What's wrong, Mattie?" Alfred tightened his arms around Matthew, pulling Matthew closer to his chest. Alfred started to turn to see what Alfred had been looking at, when Matthew grabbed his shoulder, seizing his chance.
"Please don't shoot those men!" Matthew begged, uncomfortably conscious of the cool metal of the gun pressing against his back.
Matthew could hear the men getting closer, as the buzzing in his ears had subsided to a manageable sort of background noise. Alfred looked surprised, but agreed.
"Okay, Mattie," Alfred agreed with a smile as another group of men rounded the corner, swiftly approaching Matthew's room.
Matthew nodded weakly and let Alfred lightly push his head against his shoulder.
Needless to say, the multiple gunshots shocked Matthew. He almost jerked out of Alfred's lap, spinning around to look down the hallway. Pain shot up and down Matthew's spine, his head pounded and the world started spinning, but before he passed out completely from the sudden pain, he saw the writhing bodies filling his hallway, holding legs or stomachs.
"They're not dead, right?" Alfred chuckled in his ear as black spots filled Matthew's vision.
Canada was burning. Smoke filled the sky, darkening the windows of the small private plane Francis was flying in. He could see the small shapes of people running around, trying to put out the flames. Francis watched, horrified, as he flew over various Canadian cities on his way to his Mathieu's house and saw the same scenes in multiple different towns.
Francis got up and walked to where the pilot was, "Pourriez-vous aller plus vite, s'il vous plaît? (Could you go faster, please?)" Francis urged the pilot.
"Désolé, monsieur. Je ne peux pas, la fumée rend difficile à voir, (Sorry, sir. I can't, the smoke makes it hard to see.)" The pilot apologized. Francis slumped in his seat, his fingers worrying at the strap of his suitcase.
'I'm just glad I decided to visit mon Mathieu when I did… I hope he's okay,' Francis thought anxiously as they neared Mathieu's house. He instructed the pilot to land on the large, wide driveway in front of Mathieu's house. Francis stumbled out of his plane and stared, horrified, at Mathieu's house—or rather, what used to be Mathieu's house.
The door had been broken down, the windows of the top floor were all broken as well as some of the windows on the bottom floor. Smoke was pouring out of the top floor and appeared to be spreading quickly throughout the rest of the house.
Francis stood, stunned, for a short moment before tripping into a run towards the flaming house, calling out for Mathieu.
The pilot tore after Francis, calling out for him to stop and return to the plane, it wasn't safe!
But if Alfred had lit that house on fire with Mathieu still inside… Mathieu would have been asleep, or at least unable to leave the house, most likely in too much pain from his country being attacked.
Francis would have dove into the house, but the ceiling suddenly collapsed with a loud crack and several crackling noises as it brought down the rest of the house.
"Mathieu!"
Well, that's all I've got written in advance. However, I've got a 9+ hour car drive tomorrow and a wireless router, so we'll see what I can do=)
I'd love to hear your suggestions for what should happen now! Anything goes, dudes and dudettes.
Review to prove your Loyalty!
~Songbook12
