Chapter Four

Ontario came back to life with a gasp, eyes snapping open to try and take stock of his surroundings as he gulped down air in huge amounts, trying to fill his lungs with as much as he could. He breathed almost greedily, completely unaware of how long it had been since he'd…well, died. And where was he now? Seated, or, well, chained to a chair. Around his wrists and ankles, and from the feel of it, his chest and waist too, which the province really felt was total overkill. He struggled a bit, only to realize that these restraints had been custom-made to contain his strength. This was not a pleasant feeling for a province of his might, to realize that he was truly trapped someplace he didn't want to be. But more terrifying than that…was how he'd ended up here at all.

Because the fact that he was in this chair at all, in these chains at all, was enough to give him nightmares.

The guards had easily found him in that little closet and had hauled him out, pointing guns in his face and ordering him to lie on the floor. But then they didn't just shoot him on the spot, as any sane guard would have done. No, one of them knelt down and had a very close, very thorough look at his face, studying it in minute detail, while another one of them took his wallet out of his pocket and went through it. Ontario gulped as he realized the implications of the words that had been shouted- "WE GOT A MATCH!"

They knew who he was. They knew WHAT he was. They, those guards, had KNOWN he couldn't die, had KNOWN what to look for in his wallet…and then they'd acted accordingly.

Because one of them had suddenly put his knee into the province's back, had pushed him down and held him there…as his hands wrapped a piece of steel wire around his neck and drawn it tight.

And they'd killed him.

But that betrayed a planned and coordinated effort, a foreknowledge of what to do with him…and they'd strangled him to death. Death by strangulation was always one of the quickest revivals, because there was often little structural damage to repair outside of the choke point- little tissue damage, no blood to regenerate, and so on. So that was a deliberate manner of making him easier to move, then; it was a lot easier to relocate a corpse than a person.

Which still left him waiting for the man of the hour to show up. And boy oh boy was he going to let fly when Saskatchewan did eventually show up. If Saskatchewan decided to actually show up. It wasn't a sure thing, really.

Time seemed to blur by. He could have been sitting there a minute, or an hour; his watch had been taken from him, and with no other method of knowing how long had gone by, he started to mutter to himself, counting upwards in a continuous sequence. And then he tried counting down from sixty and extending a finger each time he did so. But then after the fifth round of running out of fingers, he lost count and gave it up.

Ontario must have nodded off at some point, because he jolted awake as the door started to open, slowly; it had a loud and complicated locking mechanism, but soon enough it swung open, and the very man he'd been expecting to see strode inside. And the province's eyes went wide as he took in the sight of his younger brother, all grown up and dressed like a modest Bond villain.

The look didn't suit him, really; the crisp grey suit and white shirt just seemed completely off for a man who looked his best in muddy boots and jeans. And yet here he was, his straw-blonde hair combed back neatly instead of concealed beneath a hand-woven straw hat. He'd even trimmed his beard and shaped it a bit, for god's sake. This from Saskatchewan, the farmer. Ontario noticed a curious detail- a large, squarish ring on his right hand, wrapped comfortably around his ring finger. Saskatchewan never wore jewellery, since he'd heard too many horror stories about it getting caught in farm equipment and ruining lives to take the chance. On him it would always grow back; but why take the risk at all? Better to spare himself the agony. And yet here it was, this fat silver ring, with an inscription reading 2014 on it.

His younger brother's face was angular, with a pointed chin and chiselled nose; neither of which looked particularly friendly or welcoming at that moment. Saskatchewan's face was its usual blank, unreadable mask, but there was a gleam in those cold green eyes that Ontario did not like at all. His eyes were drawn to another curious detail- an earring. His younger brother had gotten his ear pierced, and there was a thin gold loop sitting in the hole, one he couldn't take out lest it seal up the second he removed it.

And they stood there, eye to eye, for a good ten seconds, as Ontario slowly tried to burrow back into his chair. Saskatchewan's face seemed to twitch- quirking up into a half-smile for a fraction of a second. And there was still that gleam in his green eyes as he continued to study Ontario like he was a prey animal, staying silent all the while. The eastern province was more than a little disturbed by this- and it was unnerving him to the point where all of his questions had dribbled out of his brain and onto the floor.

Finally he managed to work up the gumption to speak, though his voice was barely a whisper.

"…Saskatchewan…" he croaked, throat suddenly dry, "Why….what are you doing here? What is this place?"

The expressionless face suddenly shifted, and Ontario couldn't help but feel like he was a small animal in the jaws of a bear, because Saskatchewan's face had a distinctively predatory vibe to it.

And then….

"Що ми робимо ? Це не твоя турбота , дурень."

And Ontario wanted to scream.

"Oh my god, please- please don't give me this. Please don't do this. Please don't play this game with me, Saskatchewan-"

The blonde just smirked at him, the thin line of his lips looking decidedly nasty.

"Don't play what game?" He asked sweetly, a cruel little gleam in his eyes, "Because I'm not playing any games, Onty. You came here with the sole intention of ruining my plans, and I'm afraid that's not something I can allow."

Ontario's eyes went wide.

"How did you-"

"I have my ways, but that's not really important right now. What is important is that I know everything you're up to. I know Alberta's here. I know she's picking all my locks. And I know that even if she does manage to get into the nerve center of our operation here, she won't have a clue what she's looking at."

He smiled cruelly, looking down at the ring on his finger with a huge grin before letting it fall by his side again. Ontario's eyes were drawn to it- it was just….disgustingly gaudy. Embedded with rhinestones, or something similar, in the shape of…well. There were green and silver ones, arranged in the shape of a sweeping S on a bevelled green rhombus.

"What's that for-"

"None of your damn business. It's…something I've been dreaming of all my life." The reply was characteristically flat once more, the intensity of his statement carried through in the man's eyes and nothing else.

If Ontario didn't know better, he'd have said that it was a Grey Cup ring. But that was stupid. The Canadian Football league was a prominent organization, sure…but Saskatchewan didn't have a team in that league. Actually, the province didn't have a team in anything of mention, really; save perhaps a few junior leagues here and there. But that ring looked for all the world like something Saskatchewan had had done up to look like the commemorative rings given out to the winners of the grey cup...for a team with an S in their logo.

There were no teams in the CFL with a logo in the shape of an S.

But that wasn't the main issue. What mattered was that Saskatchewan…well, he knew Alberta was there, for a start, but that was hardly news at all. Personifications could sense other personifications on their soil, so he'd obviously know about his sister. But whatever it was he was doing here was clearly illegal, and Ontario had a sneaking suspicion he knew what was happening here.

But…

"..That ring." He said, deciding to test the waters and his theory all in one by asking about something that didn't matter, "Why did you get that gaudy thing, anyway? Is it for some college team down in the States-"

Saskatchewan's sudden sharp scowl surprised Ontario with its ferocity, and he immediately wished he hadn't spoken about it. But on closer inspection, what he'd thought to be rhinestones appeared to be-

"It's silver. With emeralds and opals. I had it made for me." He said flatly, "And no, it's not American. Not even close."

The mere mention, the mere suggestion that the ring might have some connection to the USA seemed to disgust his brother more than Ontario had expected. The final word he hissed out through clenched teeth, those bright green eyes narrowed to slits.

"It's something I should have had four fucking times over by now, Ontario. And now? Now, well, now we all get to pay the price."

"What fucking price?!" Ontario blurted, hysteria rising in his voice, "Saskatchewan, you better not be fucking refining-"

"So what if I am? And what the hell are you going to do about it, Ontario? Oh wait, I already know. You're going to do nothing. You're going to sit in that chair and not fucking move for the next three hours while everyone who ruined my life burns alive. And there's nothing you can fucking do about it, Ontario. Not one fucking thing."

Ontario gulped.

There was a certainty in his eyes. Saskatchewan wasn't saying that because he thought those chains would hold Ontario or that the guards would keep him in place or anything like that; he was saying that because he knew. He knew what was going to happen.

Or at least he thought he did.

Ontario rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, sure. And you're suddenly able to see the fucking future-"

"And the past. The past I wouldn't have normally been able to see. The past of everyone I want, anyone I choose. I know things, Ontario. I know I'm going to win today. I know my plan is going to work. I know I'm going to win, and I know what you're going to do to stop me: Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And you know what else I know?"

And then Saskatchewan, stone-faced Saskatchewan, smiled. Hugely. The grin of the fucking Joker on a man who spent his life embodying the concept of stoicism. Ontario shuddered.

"I know things about you. I know the things you like to do in the dark, Onty…And frankly, they disgust me. That they don't disgust you is the part I'm surprised by. Maybe Manny was right this entire time. Maybe you really are depraved. But why don't I tell you what you did three weeks ago, hmm?"

And Ontario, locked rigid and eyes wide with a cold horror he didn't even know possible was unable to move away as his younger fucking brother moved in close and whispered something in his ear.

The effect was instantaneous.

"NO- NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, HOW THE FUCK- NO!" Ontario turned bright red, his stomach churning in fear and disgust and shame. His face had gone bright red in flaming, mortified shame- but this was coupled with a flaming sense of horror and discomfort.

It was his brother saying the impossible to him, his brother continuing to whisper the events of a night that he shouldn't- that he COULDN'T have known. Ontario was horrified, screaming in desperation for Saskatchewan to stop, please, oh fucking god, please, please, no more, PLEASE FUCKING STOP-

"Oh, are you a bit uncomfortable hearing me talk about this? Hmm. Wonder how I fucking felt when I had to watch that, eh? Fucking sick. You are fucking sick. And the kick in the head is, you fucking liked it."

Ontario went limp.

Saskatchewan just straightened up and dusted himself off.

"Anyway. I have more important things I need to do. Three hours 'till kickoff, Ontario. Pity you won't get to see it."


A/N:

I'M SO SORRY TO ANYONE OUT THERE WHO CAN READ UKRANIAN

I didn't have much choice in my use of google translate and will happily go back and change any and all dialogue to something more accurate if anyone wants to provide me translations. Aki, the friend of mine who supplies all the fabulous French and German for this story, doesn't speak Ukrainian, and I don't know anyone who does. If you do, and you want to contribute a less shit translation, I'd be happy to have it!

Also I'm so sorry that it's been like half a fucking year real life happened okay guys

Next chapter….um.