I truly apologize for posting this later than normal… My internet had a problem with wireless devices and whatnot, so I was unable to get to Fanfiction with my laptop (which contains all the word documents for the chapters). But it's up now so everything's alright~
3: Only Deal What You Can Take
Even as he was followed by four other rather strong allies, Britain couldn't help a sinking feeling that came with their approach to the ridiculously oversized home that belonged to his younger sibling. Something about this definitely wasn't right… All the same he led the others along to the side of the house, where he was convinced an open window would be waiting for them. America was too careless to have checked every single lock and latch in the place, so it wasn't hard to find an entrance they could all fit through.
It had been agreed up on between the five that Russia and France would search the upper floor, while he, Germany, and Italy took the lower. England had made it very clear that the guns they held were for self defense only. They were trying to capture the American and punish him for his unsanitary behavior when they were safely back in Europe. This task turned out to be easier said than done, however.
Immediately upon entry, even in the unused study they'd come in from, a horrid stench that resembled something close to rotten eggs dancing in old frying grease assaulted their noses. Britain scowled, covering both his nose and mouth to keep from falling over. He knew that he was supposed to be expecting the worst, but in the name of all that was earthly and decent…! This was bad even by America's standards!
Once they'd recovered enough to move without toppling over, they split into their respective teams and ventured into the rest of the home. Ivan pulled France along up the stairs to find their target's bedroom. It was three in the morning, after all… Reason pointed him to believe Alfred would be in bed at such an hour. When his logic failed him however, and they found the young nation's sheets empty, Francis jerked away from his Russian partner-in-crime, pouting.
"You don't have to hold onto me with those smelly mitts of yours, you know… I would have followed anyway…" Really, he was disappointed he'd missed out on what would have been a golden opportunity. Of all the nights for America to be out partying, or getting a snack, or whatever he was doing that wasn't sleeping-
Russia's reply that he hadn't been listening to was interrupted, along with his train of thought, by the familiar crack of a gunshot. Both paid a small glance toward the other before France ran down to the lower floor. Ivan plodded along at a slower pace, eyes holding a genuinely happy smile that the slight one on his face couldn't show.
Downstairs, the silhouettes of a couch, coffee table, and other bits of furniture covered in some sort of trash or another loomed over the unoccupied living room, seeming somehow ten times eerier than before. In the other room, a scuffle could be heard unfolding between the other half of their team and Alfred. Ivan lingered in the quieter room, gaze locked with the small space in between the couch and table while his partner moved to help.
It took Francis a few moments to take in the scene, mostly because his eyes had to adjust to the bright light of the kitchen. Germany had America pinned to a wall, with England trying to wrestle away a large knife from the flailing boy. A smoking gun already lay a ways away from their feet, though it didn't seem as though it'd actually managed to hit anyone. Italy was predictably nowhere to be seen. Before he could quite process what he was doing, France had made an abrupt turn on his heel and snatched the phone on the wall, trying to block out Ludwig's yowl as the blade sank into his arm.
Taking the chance he had with Germany's recoil, America flipped the bloody knife toward Britain and fled out the window above his sink, running as fast as his legs would carry him in no direction in particular. He just had to get away from his psychotic older siblings… He could hear pitiful huffing as Arthur pursued him for a ways, though eventually they died away and he allowed himself to slow to a stop, bending over and resting his hands on his knees. His gaze locked with the dimly lit cement in front of him, panting heavily and fighting the urge to vomit. Adrenaline still pulsed numbing panic through his veins and still-hammering heart, though he knew he'd face wave after wave of sore agony when it wore off.
A hand came to wipe away the pink saliva dribbling down his chin, lifting his head to try and take in the darkened neighborhood around him. Though the homes were nothing more than shadows, and the lights nothing but blurry puffs with the occasional sharp blade of brightness, he was able to identify the street as one somewhat close to his twin's. If he could make it to Matthew's house without toppling over, he might just have a chance yet…
Ludwig yanked his bleeding arm away from Francis with an irritated growl, covering it with his uninjured hand. "I said I was fine, now let it drop and help me look for Italy!" Once was being a worried ally, but three times- especially when it came from France- was concerning.
The light flipped on in the other room as the sound of a door shutting was coupled with a very distinctive British scream. Germany rolled his eyes, trailing to see what Russia had done to cause the panic. It became apparent very quickly that Ivan had no involvement in the matter however; he wasn't even present in the room to trouble anyone. The real source was laying face-first in a spreading stain of scarlet where the coffee table and sofa were unable to touch.
Germany immediately hurried over to see what damage had been done to his their suffering Italian ally, pulse speeding up to about three times the speed it'd been going before. Feli hadn't even yelled…! There'd been no panicked babbling or cries for help! Hurried fingers moved to turn the redhead over and undo his now gray-violet stained shirt, his mind not quite able to follow the orders slipping from his own throat.
The wound he uncovered was a small, angry bullet hole on the right side of the boy's chest, still leaking blood steadily into the now much freer environment. The German working on him cussed under his breath, snatching a towel from the numb Brit at his side. He paused before he tried to put pressure on the wound, pulling back slightly in a fog of uncertainty. There was clearly internal damage that had been dealt… perhaps pressure may make things worse in the long run? He glanced up, trying to keep the helpless look out of his eyes as the wail of sirens graced his ears. At least they had help coming… and at least there wasn't a large chance Italy's heart had been punctured… and at least… Why were there tears running down his face?! He wiped at the intrusive display of emotion furiously, pressing down on Italy's wound with all he had.
France knelt beside the head of his younger brother, white in the face as he tried to get the Italian to wake. He hadn't seen any nation hurt this badly in… well… in ever! No one ever got hospitalized or killed, even in the harshest of wars! What were they going to do?!
Before his question could be answered, paramedics had been allowed into the home and were nudging him out of the way to get to Italy. They hauled the wounded nation out to an ambulance and took off, leaving the three there in numb shock for what felt like hours. Once Ludwig had collected himself enough, he grabbed the keys to one of America's numerous cars and shot off after the sirens. He could at least be there for Feli when he woke…
The shadows of two figures- largely contrasted in size and form- stretched across the empty street in the glowing path the light above them had laid down. Tucked underneath the arms of the larger figure were rolled tubes of light paper, the images on one defaced with jagged pen marks. It wouldn't be long now…
