A/N: Again, this is a repost from my AO3 account.


CRACK!

"S-stop...please" The poor human croaked.

"Ufufu~" Ivan giggled and he pulled away his cane-shaped pipe. Blood splattered alongside the length of the piece of metal. "Are you ready to share the location of your friends?"

As if realizing what she had said, the woman shook her head and hissed, "Never."

Ivan glanced over to the two officers watching the spectacle. They both gave him a curt shake of their heads. He turned back to the suffering woman. Ivan raised his pipe. She screamed as he shattered the rest of her left leg.

"YOU MONSTER!" she shouted. Her sobs twisted her face into an ugly mess.

In response, Ivan picked her up roughly by her collar and smashed her against the wall. His cold amethyst eyes glared at her. She let out choked sounds as he pulled her higher above the ground.

"Listen here, you little wretch." He spoke with careful articulation, "All we want is information, and we will let you go. It is a good deal. You get to live, and we track down the scum. Everyone is happy."

The woman squirmed and pulled at her neck, trying to get some air. Ivan relaxed his grip, enough to let her get a breath in. She spat in his face.

"I'd rather die than help the Empire."

Ivan sighed and shook his head. He dropped her and she collapsed on the ground. She coughed desperately as blood stained her teeth and the floor. He turned around and took a couple steps away. He wiped away the mess with his gloved hand.

"Why not cooperate? It is easier." He swung his pipe experimentally, weighing its feel.

"You wouldn't understand." The woman retorted, her voice thin and ragged with pain. "Monsters don't know lov-"

His pipe connected with her jaw, causing a large crack to reverberate in the room. Ivan was surprised to hear himself quietly laughing as he turned. His steps towards her were slow. Those violet eyes glowed dangerously, like a nuclear chain reaction just getting started, and the woman trembled, creeping back towards the wall.

"Fine. We will have it your way."

He raised his pipe again.


With a concentrated look on his face, Ivan cleaned off the rest of the blood before hiding it inside his large coat once more. He tossed his gloves into a bag for burning. Traces of the interrogation had to remain a secret. Ignorance was key to keeping 'Morality' up. Triggers had to be kept minimal. The officers grunted as they lifted the bags over their shoulders, the corpses inside not even bothering them, more traits credited to brain-washing.

He exchanged a short conversation between the other officers. In the other interrogations, they had been luckier. They had a few leads out in the lesser sectors, industrial areas. Ivan divided up the task among themselves, taking up a section himself, then hurried his pace to exit the building. A car waited for him outside. He didn't want to be stuck here any longer.

Ivan had the entire state's department out looking. Five out of the original thirty-member group had been caught. Not only were people breaking free from conditioning, but they were capable of affecting others. Such could lead to a dangerous outbreak of rebellion. He grimaced.

Of course, it wasn't much of a threat. If anything got out of the hand, the empire was quite indifferent to dropping bombs, even on whole cities of their citizens. Over-kill wasn't a word that the rat knew. He ordered the chauffeur to hurry already. He looked through the rebel's group recorded agenda as he leaned back. After a few more times of reading through, he crumpled it up, opened the window and tossed it.

These naive groups never realized that they were doing more harm than good.

Considering the progress they had so far, the group was likely prepared for a chase. Ivan was impressed that they had managed to last this long. Even without active monitoring, usually these groups fell victim to their own undoing. Driven by ideals, they would pursue bigger and bigger heroic deeds. Like a match, rebels flamed up brightly but quickly burned out.

But why start fooling with the hierarchy now? Their interrogations revealed the group had been together for two years. That was too much time to organize themselves, only to be undone by reckless break-ins and juvenile offences. Something wasn't right.

The car stopped in front of an old apartment building. It wasn't not even to luxury level 1 standard. Parts of it were already crumbling down and it was obviously never going to be fixed, not in these outskirts. The man double-checked the ammunition in his guns. He slammed the door behind him as he casually marched up the path. Without even a shouted warning, he kicked down the door of the building and stomped inside.

A stampede fled up the stairs before he could glance at any of them. Someone shouted a warning to take over. Out from the reception desk, three people popped out with guns pointed. Ivan laughed. The three humans tensed as the ex-nation took another step forward.

"THAT'S CLOSE ENOUGH!" The center one shouted. He was a middle aged man, barely shaven. Judging from his clothes, he worked in the factories. "YOU ARE OUTNUMBERED HERE!"

The silver-haired man raised his palms in false surrender. He raised the pitch of his voice, "Can we not be friends?"

"I DON'T MAKE FRIENDS WITH MURDERERS!"

Ivan placed a hand on his chest in mock hurt, "Oh, how cruel. We have only just met."

"Fuck this!" The person on the left shouted and fired, but with a slight move to the side, the shot missed.

As expected. They were inexperienced fighters, idealists who had managed to get hands on a few automatics and ammunition. Ivan drilled six holes into the rebel before anyone could see him whip out the weapon. The short gasp and collapse of the human echoed in the room. Once the humans shook away their shock, they fired away at him, screaming their insults alongside their rounds. Ivan tumbled to the side and took shelter on a steel foundation.

He pulled out small flat disk from his inner pocket. He pressed the red center and tossed it to them. Three beeps. One explosion. Ivan left bloody prints while he walked up the stairs. The building was silent and Ivan hummed a short nostalgic tune to fill up the noise. His gun was out and ready in his hand.

He marched down the halls of each floor, peeking inside the room with child-like interest. By the third floor, he was thankful the building ended it on the fifth, stairs were not all that fun to climb. There was light evidence of any recent residence, or they cleared out much earlier. He was about to leave another generic apartment, when he heard it. There was a sniffle.

Instinctively, the man strolled right into the kitchen. Holding his breath and froze, he listened closely. Again, another sniffle. Noiselessly, he switched his weapons to a metal-piercing gun. Four shots fired into the cabinet underneath the sink. Grinding his teeth hard, Ivan looked away before the corpse rolled out.

His heart felt heavy as lead, as he heard the tiny thud that followed. Before he gained the urge to check his assumptions, he left the room.

Ivan found nobody else in the building. Inside the car, he pondered if anyone had survived his search. He could imagine the look of relief on their face, believing that they would live for another day. They wouldn't realize until an half an hour later, that he had been their last saving grace, when the noxious gas would spread throughout, leaving not a single crevice untouched.

Knowing that letting out any tears over the outlaws would attract attention, Ivan could only grip tightly on his crossed arms as he was driven back to the state's headquarters.

Today had been successful, but not close enough to what Ivan needed. The leads today had revealed several more pockets of free minds. Officers in other states were being called in. Lucky for the ex-nation, a specialized group from the North was taking great interest and was willing to take charge. All he would have to do is clear the state, then he could shove the responsibility away, unless the rat felt like adding to his work. However, Ivan doubted that.

The only silver-lining to all of this were the flustered looks of all the Morality officers as they were crowded inside the small building. Conditioning hadn't prepared them for this kind of chaos. Poor humans were used to the few teenage kids who rebelled against everything. At least, though, they did have a trained clean-up crew. He would hate to have to deal with all the bodies himself.

"Russia!"

Turning around to the sound of his nation name, he found a 'blank' one waving at him. He walked towards them, they gestured him to follow and then ran. He looked to the head Morality officer, but he was distracted with ordering other officers. Without wasting another thought, he ran after them. The figure exited into the back alley.

In the chase, Ivan was brought out into the crowded streets. His height made it easy to spot the mindless human and shove through, but the other had a size advantage, so they were always a step ahead. At some point, the ex-nation was about to give up, as too many people were in the way. Yet, the 'blank' one waited for him to get through.

At last, he arrived at a building undergoing renovations. A chime dinged as he pushed open the door. He could no longer see the 'blank' one and so walked further inside. He then noticed the figure hunched over in a plastic chair, cradling something in their hands. Raising their head slowly, he was then caught in that unfocused gaze, realizing only later that a gun had been pulled out.

"How do you know my nation name?" Ivan asked, unperturbed by the danger.

"That woman you killed this morning...She had been dancer, you know." The 'blank' one remarked, ignoring his question outright. Their other hand joined to steady their automatic. The individual steadily rose to stand.

There was silent moment between them. Ivan swallowed.

Don't ask...don't ask...don't you dare...

"What style?" the silver-haired man asked, unable to control himself.

"Classical ballet. I bet you don't even know what this."

Ivan curled his hands tighter, his dull nails digging into his palm, almost making it bleed. His voice came out a little strained, "I do." He took in a deep breath. "I thought 'blank' ones had no other thoughts than the empire."

There was a snort, "Blurred contacts. The brain-washed can't recognize a fake when they see one. It really helps to have someone on the inside to hide ourselves. You're different from them aren't you? We've had a few people visit from Europe before...but none of them like you."

Ivan tilted his head, amazed by their keen perception, "Do you understand what you called me?"

"No." The tone was genuine and this shocked the ex-nation even more. "-but I've been told that it would get your attention. Which it has. Works for me."

At these words, Ivan frowned. So, there was a bigger mastermind behind all of this. How tiresome. He might have guessed this whole mess was orchestrated by the Rat himself, but that was too much work for him to waste so trivially. No, it was probably just another human, born with the wrong talent, wrong time, and wrong hierarchy level.

"Tell me then, what is your plan?"

The human readjusted their grip on the handle, "Shoot you, then walk back as if nothing is wrong. The 'blank' ones don't have enough free-will for murder. No one will be the wiser."

Russia took a few steps to side. They circled. The silver haired man looked to ground and shook his head, "Shooting me will not help you."

"At least I did something that I chose to do."

BANG! Ivan let out a pained cry as he staggered back from the force of the shot. He looked down at his blooming wound. The individual had aimed for his heart.

He looked back the blank one. They were smiling, very satisfied and a gush of pity broke into the ex-nation's heart. Then, with a sudden cry of their own, the individual spasmed and collapsed. An officer was revealed standing right behind them. The body twitched on the ground.

"Are you okay, Braginsky, sir?" The officer asked, then rushed forward upon seeing his wound.

"I am fine," Ivan reassured. He breathed deeply as walked over to sit in the now empty seat.

He pushed the human away with one hand. Looking at his wound again, he took in a deep breath then shoved his hand into the bloody mess. His hands were as gentle as possible as he sought out the bullet. Ivan let out a ragged sigh as he dug it free. When he pulled out, the skin was already mending itself.

He surveyed the piece metal, discovering something odd about it. He quickly flicked his eyes to the officer and pointed to the body on the ground, "Call for clean up."

Dutifully, the officer looked away to call someone on their communicator. Ivan wiped off the bullet and stuffed it into his pocket. Several minutes passed until the person had been collected. A medic came to clean Ivan's wound but the silver-haired man refused a bandage. It was already healing anyways. The other officers insisted that he take a rest, at least for the rest of the afternoon.

He walked past the 'blank' one without a second glance. The silver-haired man felt parched. He pulled out his device and searched for the closest bars. His bottle was soon half-emptied by the late hour.

Ivan leaned back lazily, hardly even buzzed. The corner he had chosen was isolated and well-lit. No one paid mind to him, just as he liked it. Few people were in here as it was anyways. Drinking slowed productivity so rehabilitation did what it could to condition the habit away. He grunted as he swiped at the neck of the bottle.

He tilted his head and gulped another mouthful. It was never going to be strong enough. Bored, the man turned around the bottle to observe the label, not a brand he recognized. He looked up at the checkered tiled ceiling.

Going back to his room didn't appeal to him. He was too restless to even think about sleeping early. Besides, there was some pressing matters he needed to take a look at. He checked around the bar again, and once certain he wasn't being watched, he pulled out the bullet from earlier.

It was an abnormally long and fat bullet. Horizontal rings were engraved across the metal, along with four letters. O.P.E.N.

He turned the bullet around in his fingers. Instinctively he felt around the grooves, trying to twist it around. Click! The bullet broke in two, releasing a data chip to bounce on the table. As gently as he could, he picked the black piece up.

After further examination, an idea popped in his mind. He pulled out the electronic tablet-like device he always carried around. There were several different slots along its edges. Carefully, he compared the jagged edge of the chip with the structure of each slot. Much to his surprise, he found an exact match.

Almost happily, the device chirped and a loading screen flashed in the center. Ivan waited eagerly as the loading percentage rose. Not even thinking about a virus, he opened the decompressed file without a single moment's hesitation. Another hand reached for his bottle and he took another sip.

First, there was a typed up note. Two words. "I know." Ivan placed this in the back of his mind, then swiped at the screen.

The next page was a scan of a beige folder with label in the center, words written out in thick black marker.

Observations of the Mirror Universe: Matthew Williams.

So this was the rat's notes, he thought with derision and his interest took a dive. Despite that, he swiped again to turn the page. It was another scan, this time of someone's journal, the coil was evident along the cut edge. He let out a curious hum at the date stamped at the top. It was several months before "The Disaster". Ivan scrolled the page down a bit.

I've decided that it would be best that I record our interactions. Matt is calling me a nerd now. He's such a hoser, even if he is me. But not really. Seriously, that's never going to stop being weird...

He stopped reading. What was this? He skipped ahead a few more pages only find they were only more scans of the same journal. From what he skimmed, he couldn't make any sense of it. Who was this Matt? What about what in the history books? With a roll of his eyes, Ivan exited out of the file, dismissing the words as the collected rambles of a madman.

Could be a good read later, he mused.

Ivan dragged the file to save it in a deeply hidden folder, hiding it from any inner system checks later. After doing so, he turned off his device and proceeded to finish the rest of his bottle. He did not have a damn to spend on the Rat at the moment. It would take more than a gunshot to the heart to make him care. Whoever was giving this to him had wrongly gauged his level of curiosity, and underestimated his tired mind.

Unable to think about anything else, flashbacks of the day flooded into his mind. With an exhausted wave, he called for another bottle.