Warning: Strong language, gore, sexual abuse (dubcon).

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers

-Part 3-

3 Pieces of a Man

The afternoon was always the best time to visit the bay. The morning fog had long been dissolved by the sun's piercing rays, and the cool ocean breeze had yet to start. The bay itself was a giant half circle, safely encasing a port of boats from the rough billows of the sea. Usually the only traffic was the fishermen and the shippers importing and exporting, but a body tends to change such standards.

Thick yellow police tape gated off an area of the port, a police man standing guard every few feet. It was with good reason; a crowd of curious civilians and reporters were herded at the line's edges, trying to get a good look of the case.

Their anxious faces were humorous to Alfred, making it all the more satisfying to flash his badge to the guard and duck beneath the tape. There were already a few police officers and a forensics team on the boat. From the dock, he could see that they were busy conversing in hushed tones, taking pictures of the crime and examining the witnesses and corpse. Alfred could not help but to take a deep, salty breath and gaze upon it proudly.

He loved murder and the excitement the hunt gave him. He knew that he was going to find the murderer before anyone else. He had the brains, skills, and classic heroism that will make the clues glaringly obvious. Maybe- he could not help but wonder- this sicko will be another Anon Killer. Maybe he will be able to find the bastard before another Lili is murdered.

Maybe he could find out sooner if Carlos and Tino would stop mingling at the police line.

Indeed, Carlos was holding up his badge to the guard, giving the shorter reporter a stern look. "Remember, Tino— this investigation is in complete confidentiality," Alfred heard him say before being given a quick nod by the guard. Carlos lifted up the tape high, motioning for Tino to pass under. "But that also means that you need to stay out of our way and listen to us. Understand?"

Tino smiled, bobbing his head ecstatically. "Of course," he said. "I just really want to thank both you and Alfred-" he peeked his head high, trying to beam an ecstatic grin Alfred frowned. "-for allowing me to join you guys. I promise that I won't be a burden at all. I'll just sit back and observe peacefully and—"

At this, Alfred sighed, sending them an annoyed look. "Hurry up, you two," he said. "We don't have all day."

Tino looked sheepish, scratching his neck nervously as he said an apology. Carlos, meanwhile, crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Slow down, would ya? You already broke a couple of traffic laws driving over here."

"Justice should not have to wait at red lights, especially when there's a murderer on the loose."

Carlos scowled, his eyes narrowing into a sharp glare. "No one said anything about a murder," he said loudly, making sure that the crowding throng could hear and heed his words. "You're being delusional."

"Delusional, maybe, but the statistics say that the chances of finding the culprit to a murder goes down drastically after the first twenty-four hours."

Tino clapped his hands together, forcing a light laugh. "You two are hilarious," he said, a plastic grin pushing up on his lips. He laughed again, walking past them both briskly. He motioned at them. "Now c'mon. We don't have time to waste-" He raised his hand, whistling to one of the standing officers. "Excuse me, sir? Can you tell me and my colleagues what exactly happened here?"

Alfred and Carlos exchanged glances. Colleagues?

The middle-aged officer raised a brow, looking up and down Tino's length with a criticizing glance. "And you are, exactly?"

Carlos sighed, rubbing a hand over his hair before jogging up to Tino. "It's fine," he said, pulling out his badge again. "He's with me."

"Really?" The officer looked between Carlos and Alfred as he joined them, his squinty eyes narrowing by the second. "Afrosayka must be insane . . . alright, here's the deal: a fishing boat had been fishing in its usual spot a few miles off the coast, nothing out of the ordinary, when their lines tagged on something heavy. They pulled it up and found a plastic black trash bag. There was a body inside, along with a couple of stones. They radioed it in and sailed back to port where we were waiting for them. Didn't quite believe their story when I first heard it, but one look at the corpses and you'll get it."

Alfred cocked a brow. "Corpses? There's more than one?"

"Well, not really, but the body was cut up into pieces. We have the torso, head, and an amputated leg, but we're missing a leg and the arms. Chances are they fell out of the bag while they were pulling it up. We already have a team searching the waters for them."

Tino pulled his brows together, placing his hand at his mouth. He looked puzzled as he studied the ground. "But why cut off the arms? Were they trying to make sure we couldn't identify the body?"

Carlos shook his head. "If they wanted to prevent identification, they would have torn apart the jaw. It's more likely that putting the body in pieces would make it easier for transportation. But-" he placed his hand on Tino's shoulder, looking down at his gravely. "-will you be okay with this? Bodies aren't necessarily the easiest of things to look at."

Alfred rolled his eyes, waving him away. "Please. Tino's a tough guy. He's probably here because he likes dead people."

Tino ignored him, giving the concerned man a reassuring smile. "It's fine. I have a tough stomach. I can handle it." Tino lifted his chin high, looking impressively calm as he practically led the men to the sight.

The look quickly dissolved the moment he stepped onto the deck.

The three pieces were spread out and marked with tape, each laid out to bake in the mild sun. Weeks in the salty ocean made the yellow-brown decomposing skin bloated, like a slightly deflated balloon. It sagged down at the sides, making the bones jut out angularly. The hair was nearly gone and whatever remained was transparent. Deformed it was, but the face still looked human enough to be identifiable.

Time slowed down for the second Tino stood in shock. Slowly, very slowly, his face drained into a ghostly white. His staring eyes, large and young, welled up with tears. Never before had Alfred ever seen someone shake so hard, the trepidation spreading throughout the reporter's body. Tino clutched his arms in a violent hug, carefully lowering himself into a squat. Then, safe on the ground, he placed his hands over his ears and screamed. It was shattering, too loud and too terrified to be human.

Alfred plugged his ears, wincing as he swore his luck. So much for being a tough guy. He curled his lip and dragged his feet away, paying little heed when Carlos knelt down besides Tino, rubbing his back in constant circles. "Calm down, Tino," he demanded harshly, loud to be heard above the scream. "You need to calm down. You're going to start hyperventilating."

"That's not how you comfort someone," Alfred deadpanned calmly, safe at the sides with his arms crossed over his chest.

Carlos glared at him. "Damnit, Jones! At least I'm trying to help!"

The scream started to die off. It wavered at first, losing its powers and force until it dissolved into the breeze. Tino's eyes lost their distance as a new stream of tears trickled down his face. Shaking, he raised an arm past Carlos and pointed a finger at the body. "That's Berwald," he whispered. His face contorted as another sob left him. "That's him. He's really . . ." Tino hugged his knees. Short breaths rasped his throat. His chest rose and fell in rapid succession.

Carlos was quiet for a long moment. Looking a bit at a loss, he gave the rest of the officers on scene a pleading look. One of them, a woman with frizzy hair, sighed and volunteered to handle it. She gently coaxed Tino to his feet, promising Alfred and Carlos that she will drive him back to the station as she led him away. He would need to be interviewed and those alibis of his checked.

Alfred, meanwhile, thought that it was all very unnecessary and paid the woman no care. Tino identified the body as being Berwald's. That meant this was a murder investigation worth his time.

He loved it.

With a small skip in his walk, Alfred happily took his turn to look at the scene. A few officers surrounded the corpse, exchanging hushed words and interviewing the fisherman's crew. The task of dealing with the parts was mostly handled by the medical team.

Alfred stepped into their work line, giving each a congenial smile before squatting next to the torso, which was torn open at the stomach with a rotting, gaping black hole. It was decomposing, a few flies already feasting on the salted remains. Alfred's eyes slowly drifted down the body, analyzing every inch of flesh. "That's weird," he muttered, using his pad pen to probe at the nadir of the corpse.

"Jones, would you please not sexually harass the body."

Alfred rolled his eyes as Carlos knelt next to him. "Very funny, Machado," he sneered, pulling his pen away. "It's not as though we have a murder to solve."

Carlos raised a brow. "Well this has to be the first time I've seen you so serious about anything," he replied, half sarcastic, half jeer. "I thought you were going to make a sex joke or something."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "I'm not immature." He pointed to the body again. "Anyways, back to the case, since you seem to care so much." Carlos smacked his shoulder. Alfred scowled, promising revenge silently. "The murderer took the time to strip the body, unnecessary when it's going into the ocean where it's not gonna be found. So there has to be something important about those clothes, like maybe they're a uniform for the place where the crime took place."

"Probable, but Tino said that Berwald works at home. It's more likely that they had to take the clothes off to cut up the body." Carlos reached out, motioning to the tear in the gut. "We wouldn't know for sure until the medical report, but I'll say that that's the cause of death."

"A third grader could have told me that."

"Shut it, Jones." Carlos glowered a little longer, but when Alfred merely toyed with his pen, he groaned and returned to his job. He turned to the nearest medical examiner, a middle aged man, and asked. "Do you know what caused this?"

The medical examiner scratched his chin, his fingers cloaked by white latex. "It's definitely from a knife, but we'll have to take it to the lab to figure out what kind."

"A knife?" Alfred looked up at them, intrigue sparking in his eyes. "Didn't Edelstein kill his people with a knife?" The world suddenly grew very silent. Shifting uncomfortably, the medical examiner looked down, feigning deafness as he started scribbling fiercely on his notepad.

Carlos frowned thickly, his face set in annoyance. "Would you learn some tact, Jones?" He demanded harshly. His eyes were considerably darker, practically slits from anger. "There's no proof that it's Edelstein—who's in jail -so stop throwing his name around like that."

"Actually, there is a ton of proof. The victim was alerted to the police the same way the Anon Killer did it and the cause of death is the same. What more do you want?"

"How about a consistent victim profile? In case you've forgotten, the Eldenstein only killed females. Never did he ever murder a guy."

"Well this isn't the Anon Killer," Alfred said, irritation prickling his nose. "It's a copycat trying to mimic his M.O."

Carlos groaned, muttering Spanish under his breath as he rubbed his temples. "Then why go for a harder kill?" he asked. "Women are easy. You just pull out a knife and they'll do whatever you want. And six foot guys who're built like a wrestler are more likely to take you down than him, so whoever killed this guy is either really skilled or really stupid."

"Which are perfect traits for a copycat- skilled, but too dumb to come up with their own ideas."

"I say it's baseless and has no proof."

"I say there's only one person who can tell us that." Carlos raised his brow, unsure of why Alfred was reaching into his pocket until he pulled out his phone. A single tap of a button and he was impatiently waiting for an answer. The second the dialing tone was interrupted, Alfred said, "Hello Natalya, this is Alfred."

Carlos turned red. "We are not telling the chief about-"

Alfred held up a finger, pressing the phone closer to his ear. "Be quiet, Machado, I- oh no, not you Natalya . . . but I like calling you that. Anyways, Tino confirmed it's Berwald and I think we have reasonable enough proof that Eldenstein is behind this all . . . uh huh . . ." He frowned, looking ready to say something, but evidently held it back. "Yeah . . . okay, hold on." He held out the phone. "She wants to talk to you," he told Carlos.

Carlos plucked the phone from him, making sure to glare before answering. "Yes . . . I think it's crazy . . . well it's not entirely baseless, but the murders are so different . . ." He nodded for a moment, then groaned. "Yes ma'am, I . . . no, I'm not questioning your authority . . . alright, we'll come back once we finish up here . . . yes ma'am. See you then." He ended the called, staring at the phone screen for a long moment.

Alfred wiggled his brows, inching a little closer to him. "So what did she say?" he asked.

Carlos shook his head, pressing his lips to restrain a swear. "She said that your claim would be entirely baseless, except-"

"The obituary," Alfred supplied.

He was forced to nod. "Yes. She said to finish up here ASAP and return to the station to discuss it."

Alfred gave a small agreement, returning to his work. He spent a long moment observing the body again, watching the medical examiner's finally place the parts on a stretcher and take them out. "Do you know what I think?" he asked suddenly.

The tanned man rolled his eyes. "What?"

"I think we need to talk to Eldenstein himself to get the facts straight."

Carlos gawked at him, his voidless eyes skeptic and stunned. "You're crazy," he scoffed. "Alfroskaya would have to be insane to agree to something like that."

"Yeah, but . . ." Alfred looked him square in the eye. His blue ones were set in his face, so confident in his abilities to discern the bad from good. "So is murder."

Laying on her bed, Alice wrapped the navy blue coat closer around her body, pressing the soft fabric into her face. Even though a few runs in the washer had rid the thing of its blood stains, it still smelled ever so slightly of metallic iron. In the loneliness of her room, it was the arms that kept it comfort at night, told her that everything was going to be fine.

It was an impulse decision, really- why she decided to take Berwald's coat. She had peeled it off of him when she was cutting off the limbs, trying to get him to fit into the bag. Despite the blood dripping from the ends, it was still a good coat. So she stole it, washed it, and claimed it as her own. One would suppose that such evidence was a nerve wrecker, an idol of guilt, but the contrary was true. When her hands shook, her neck sweat, and the feeling of someone watching for her next mistake grew too fierce, the coat wiped them all away, sponged the trepidation from her.

Alice sighed, taking another breath of the fabric. She loved the coat. It was the first remedy she ever found that fully rid her of her anxiety. She was terrified of being without it.

A knock sounded at her bedroom door. Immediately, Alice sat up, ripping the coat off of her arms. "Alice, can I come in?" Antonio called. "We need to talk."

She leaned over her bed, quickly tossing it beneath. Hopefully, Antonio wouldn't peek under and check for the boogey man. "Come in!" She arranged herself crossed legged on her bed, her hands neat on her lap. When Antonio came in, she looked nothing short of perfect.

He drinked in the sight of her for a moment and smiled nicely. "Hey, how are you doing?" he asked, closing the door shut behind him. Her neck started to sweat and her heart beat sped, being erratic. Why was he closing the door? Antonio only closed the door when . . .

She and Antonio were alone in the house. Tim was at work, Lovino at class, and Feliciano still away.

She was alone with him.

Antonio slowly crept around the room, looking unimpressed at the bland, picture-less walls and bare dressers. "Don't worry," he said evenly, as if sensing her inner panic. "I just wanted to ask you one thing."

Alice gulped. "What is it?" He's been good since he killed Berwald, she told herself. It's been a while and he was still on his honeymoon period. She hadn't done anything wrong yet.

She had no reason to worry. "

Antonio paused at the edge of the bed, looming above her. The green in his eyes was vile. "Who is better: me or Tim?"

She bit her lip, understanding completely what happened. He felt like his authority over the family was being threatened again. Antonio needed validation that even if his cousin turned on him, he had the support of her and Lovino. It was a question that came up so many times that she knew well enough to reply "You, of course."

Antonio nodded in acceptance. Maybe that would be the end of it and he would open the door again and let fresh- pure -air into her confinement. But right as she felt her blood calm, the man sat on the edge of the bed. "But if I asked you to, would you kill him?" he asked. The color drained from Alice's face. Kill him . . .

Antonio crawled forward, bringing his face closer to hers "If I asked you to, would you do to him what I did to that intruder?" he asked. His breath was warm on her clammy skin, making her body turn to ice. "Would you?"

Alice nodded. "Yes-"

"Liar!" He grabbed her, wrenching her head back and forth in a violent motion. "Don't lie to me, Alice," He hiss dangerously, his grip tightening. "You'll turn on me and kill me, just like everyone else."

Alice cried, her hands on his wrist. "No, I wouldn't!" She screamed desperately. "I-" Antonio struck her in the face, her lip splitting on her tooth. She cried harder.

She and Antonio were alone in the house.

He hit her again. "Shut up!"

And Feliciano was still away.

He aimed for her gut, making her feel like barfing.

Lovino at class.

He pushed her down onto the bed and straddled her hips.

Tim was at work.

She sobbed thickly, face red from pain and blood. The tears flowed easily down her cheeks. Every part of her felt weak, ready to fall apart like a broken doll. But Antonio pressed a finger to her lips, suddenly gentle as he hushed her. "Shh, it's alright," he cooed. "Promise you wouldn't do it again?"

Alice nodded. What else would she do?

She could feel the smirk on his face when he leaned down and kissed her sweetly on the lips. It was short, but effective in stopping her ruckus. Now the only noise spilling from her mouth was the hiccups that accompanied silent crying. Antonio pulled away, looking down at the toy below him. "Good. I'll make you feel better now, okay?"

This time, she didn't have a choice.

She didn't have a choice the previous times either.

Often, when she tip-toed past Antonio's room at night, she would hear him and Lovino in bed. They sounded satisfied with each other, but she supposed that maybe Lovino wasn't enough for him.

What a dance she and Antonio played- a tango of sin and pleasure.

He's courted her long before he ever touched Lovino, touches in the night that they hid from Romulus. One from the desire to keep his pleasure to himself, another from fear of retribution. He forced her into this dance and refused to release her hand. Nothing ever stopped him from pulling the tank top off of her head and the jeans off her legs or using her until he done what he pleased.

Yet, he never once took off his own pants. He had a single hand hold hers above her head and another to touch her body. Nothing else. Yet, he was able to work her until she was finished, a quivering mess.

And, once she was, he stepped off the bed as always, wiping his fingers off on the sheets. "Remember," he said. "Anyone can hurt you, but I'm the only one who can make you feel better." And, his job done, he left and closed the door behind him.

An uneasy silence filled the room as Alice curled into herself, shamefully burying her face into the mattress. She was too weak to move and grab her coat, but she doubted that it would help.

Despite the tears or the fear that struck her, she always wanted him to do that. She always wanted him to make her feel better, make her body swell with realized pleasure. The need never left her completely and sometimes, when Lovino was in his own room, she would join Antonio in his and willingly give herself up for the night.

She had hated him for doing this to her ever since she was twelve.

Yet, as she closed her eyes and whispered the "Our Father," she never wanted him to stop.

MW: That is the worse I will ever get. If I ever mention sex or sexual abuse ever again, it's going to be just as vague. So nothing hardcore from me.

I updated within a reasonable amount of time! At least for in my standards. And I know that this update is short. I had to cut every chapter into halves. But hey, the updates might be shorter, but they come quicker and there'll be more of them.

I would like to thank everyone for favoriting and following. I glad that so many people like this so far! I would also like to thank Mint-Chocolate-Leaves, That One Person Who Writes, HimekoUchia, Angelic Fluffle, Sarah I LOVE ENGLAND Fanfics, and Idea-explosion for reviewing. You are all amazing and I hope that you guys continue to enjoy this fic.

No Notes

Thank you for reading! Have a wonderful day!