A/N: Sorry this took a while. Here is your incredible Epilogue, just for you guys! Enjoy~

Epilogue

"Yes, very gruesome, indeed. The two bodies were found severely mutilated. It's also been confirmed that their remains line the asphalt too." Officer Arthur Kirkland radioed to his chief.

"I see." The chief responded. "Well, I suppose we have nothing better to do but bag them up. Do you see any signs of foul play?"

Kirkland glanced wearily at the rope tied to the black Porsche. "Definitely."

"Terrible. Call me if anything else surfaces."

"Yes sir." Arthur hooked the radio back onto his belt, staring in awe at the sight he and his colleague had stumbled upon. Two adult male bodies stripped down to the bone, attached to handcuffs that attached to a rope which, finally, ended at the car's hitch. It was quite gruesome.

"I don't understand." Arthur thought out loud. "Who would do such a thing?"

"It looks like it was done on purpose." Officer Roderich Edelstein came up behind him. "I've dusted for fingerprints. The only ones I could find were of the killers."

"Who were they identified as?" Arthur asked, peering into the car.

"Local reports identify them as 27-year-old Ivan Braginski and 22-year-old Matthew Williams. It very much seems like the tried to kill each other, right?"

Arthur glanced down at the incarcerated bodies. "Yes. And it appears they succeeded." The Britt walked over and stared at the trunk. "Have you looked in there yet?"

Roderich shook his head.

"Well, move over you, git. Any evidence in there isn't going to jump out at you." He sent Roderich to pop the trunk, who muttered something about no manners.

"Isn't your boyfriend 22 as well?" Roderich asked as he searched for the button. He found it in the glove compartment and pushed it.

Arthur swallowed a lump. "Yes. Stupid idiot was supposed to call me earlier. I wonder where the hell he is."

Roderich smiled. "Don't worry. Probably just got lost and forgot."

"Sure sounds like him."

Arthur opened the trunk. He found some rope, a lighter, a bottle of alcohol, a steel water pipe, and…

He frowned.

Roderich seemed to notice. "What's wrong?"

Arthur didn't reply. He reached into the trunk and pulled out a 9mm pistol. Some dried blood was splattered on it. It suddenly felt like the temperature had dropped twenty degrees. He knew this gun well. He often saw it on many occasions.

"No." He muttered.

Roderich turned pale. "Is that…?"

"No." Arthur said louder. "No no NO!" He trembled with horror. "No! Alfred!" His voice caught at the end. He crumpled to the ground and dissolved into tears. Arthur cradled the pistol in his hands.

Roderich hung his head in silence.

"Alfred. Alfred, you idiot…" Arthur sobbed, knowing his boyfriend was gone forever.

..~xThisIsAPageBreakx~..

One year before…

It was a snowy drive on a deserted road in Russia. The asphalt shined with patches of ice and slush, warning that driving wasn't probably a good idea. Of course, that didn't stop the black Porsche that barreled down the frontage road.

Ivan scowled, wiping at the front windshield again. The glass kept fogging up from the inside, blocking his field of vision. It was sure to be a blizzard tonight. He would have to start the heater when he got home…

"Braht1! Braht, look!" Ivan's older sister, Katyusha, squealed from the back. "You can't see the road behind us anymore! Isn't that scary?" Katyusha giggled.

"Da." Ivan replied automatically.

"No, it's not scary. Brother is strong like me. He will get us home," Natalia, who sat in the passenger's seat, replied coldly. She slipped her hand into Ivan's, which was resting on the center console, and he flinched. However, he did not remove it. He liked to keep his sisters happy. Which, unfortunately, included having them stay over for the weekend.

"I wonder if it'll die down in the morning." Katyusha continued. "Then we can go sledding, like when we were children! How fun would that be?"

The younger sister glared at her.

Katyusha squirmed nervously. "If you don't want to, maybe we could—"

"I would rather rest by the fire, in brother's arms. Only the two of us." Natalia interrupted.

Katyusha frowned. "But where would I go? Braht!"

"That is enough of the talking!" Ivan growled, turning his eyes off the road for two seconds to glare at them both. They fell silent. "When we get home, we will be—"

"Ivan! Look out!" Katyusha shrieked.

He turned back to the road just in time to see a tree that fallen in their way. He slammed on the brakes and the car's rear swung around so that the Porsche was backwards. But it did not slow. The ground was too slippery.

"Katyusha!" Ivan cried as the Porsche's rear crashed into tree. He shut his eyes. The sound of crumpling metal echoed in his ears and he felt Natalia release his hand. Bits of glass nicked his cheeks, his hands, his clothes. Then, as quickly as it had started, it was over.

He opened his eyes slowly.

Glass shards were everywhere, all over him and the car. They didn't come from any of the front windows, but from the back. He looked over and saw Natalia, dazed and confused, as struggled to unbuckle herself. It finally clicked and she opened her passenger door, stumbling into the full on blizzard. Ivan felt the cold right through his jacket.

He turned around, looking for his older sister. The tree's branches poked through the now empty frame of the back window. Glass was everywhere, especially on the seat. And then he saw Katyusha, still buckled up to her seat, slumped forward like a ragdoll. Through her sandy-colored hair Ivan could see a blow to her head, staining it red.

She wasn't moving.

Ivan cursed, knowing in his heart she was gone. He clumsily unbuckled his seatbelt, ignoring the slight dizziness and ache of his head, and he staggered into the cold once the door opened. The wind nipped at him like an old friend.

The silence was deafening.

Katyusha was gone. His older sister, and possibly the more favored of the two since she wasn't as clingy as the other. She had a heart of gold, and practically raised him when his parents were less nurturing. The image of her lifeless body flashed through his head.

"Brother! Big brother! Are you alright?" Natalia was next to him now, pulling at his sleeve.

Ivan turned towards her, anger suddenly erupting inside of him. Natalia had distracted him. She had made him take his eyes off the road. "She is dead."

Natalia stepped back, appearing uneasy. Like she could sense her brother's mood. "What?"

"Katyusha is dead." Ivan growled. "And it is your fault."

Natalia's eyes widened. "No. It cannot be. I was—"

Ivan lashed out, wrapping his hands around her petite throat. She squealed, but it immediately turned into bitter choking sounds.

"You killed her. You distracted me!" Ivan shouted, raising Natalia a foot off the ground, continuing to crush her windpipe. She could do nothing but weep silently as she struggled for air, gasping and pleading with her eyes for her older brother to let go. But when he finally did, it was too late.

Ivan released her neck and dropped to the snow, dead.

He looked down in shock at her body, realizing the truth. What had he done? His sister was dead before him, because of him. Yet there was something…

And then, he felt it. That sheer satisfaction of ending a life, of being responsible for something no one should control. It burned inside of him, kindling, aching for more.

The smile that followed would forever be the one fifteen other people would experience right before they were murdered. They would have no idea that this whole thing was an accident, one incident that triggered many others. And Ivan would never forget that fateful afternoon that changed everything.

Around the same time…

This is it, Matthew thought. No turning back. He stood in the kitchen leaning on the counter, breathing in and out, in and out. Today was the day. It was finally the day he was going to do it! It excited him, but at the same time terrified him. What if he missed? What if he got in massive trouble? If he failed…

Matthew shook his head. No, he wasn't going to think like that. He had to succeed. He couldn't remain here, trapped in a vicious cycle where he faded into the shadows day after day. Lost. Alone. Forgotten. And all because of his brother.

Mattie couldn't blame Alfred, though. Of course not. It wasn't his fault he was so… out there. But nonetheless it still happened, and someone had to be blamed.

For better or worse, this burden landed on Cruz. Cruz, who always mistook Mattie for his brother and beat him for it. Cruz, who two years ago nearly sent Matthew to the hospital with his hatred for Alfred. He should've known better. He should've remembered him.

Matthew sighed, and opened a small kitchen drawer, producing at large kitchen knife. Oh well. His decision, Mattie supposed. Was it right to simply end a life though? Could he do it?

"Hey, Matthew. Did you get the ice cream yet?"

Matthew scowled. Oh yeah. He was ready. He was tired of hearing the Cuban's voice in his living room, normally after sheepishly apologizing for inflicted harm on Mattie. One way or another, someone was going to die tonight, and Matthew planned on living for a long time.

"C-coming!" Matthew stuttered back, speaking very softly like he used to. The original voice was long gone, though, replaced by a furious tone fueled with anger and hatred. He loved that voice, knowing he was fully capable of being confident like his brother.

He grabbed the tub of ice cream from the fridge, grabbing two spoons from a drawer. He balanced it all in one hand and with the other held the knife behind his back. Ready, quick. He took in another large breath before entering the living room.

Cruz sat on the teeny red couch, facing the opposite direction as he watched the snow cascade down the window. Canada had gotten a mini blizzard earlier this afternoon, and the snow didn't seem to be letting up any time soon. The Cuban hated the cold. He wouldn't leave till morning.

Matter of fact, he would never leave.

Matthew quickly sat next to Cruz while he was distracted. He handed him the tub of ice cream.

Cruz took it for a moment. Then he made a face and handed it back.

Matthew stared at him with amazement. "No ice cream?"

Cruz cocked an eyebrow at him. "Are you kidding? Do you see how cold it is outside?" He chuckled. "Crazy little Canadian. Besides, who eats plain vanilla?"

Matthew could feel the anger boil in his veins. "What, would you rather prefer it with a topping?" He heard the edge in his voice and winced a little.

Cruz didn't seem to notice. "Yeah! What do you have?"

"I have a delicious new topping all my own. It's a gorgeous red color, and as sweet as sugar." Matthew smiled.

Cruz nodded. "Well, go get some."

Matthew smiled again, this time feeling his mouth stretch like the Cheshire cat's. "Please. There's plenty right here." He stood up and straddled Cruz.

Cruz smiled. "I knew you'd finally come around." He began to stand but Matthew pushed him back down. The smile faded. "What—"

In response, Matthew brought forth the kitchen knife.

Cruz's silence was hysterical. He stared at Matthew like a deer caught in the headlights. Matthew chuckled. "What, did you really think I had a thing for you? The person who openly hurts me every time I see him?" He laughed again, running the blade along Cruz's right cheek, and bringing it to a sinister stop at the throat. "Pathetic. Are you really so full of yourself?"

"Matthew, please! Don't do this!" Cruz pleaded, moving not an inch just in case the knife suddenly jerked. Not like that would happen, though. Matthew had a surprisingly steady hand. It was Cruz who began to shake.

Matthew pretended to pout. "But I thought you said you wanted that topping." He brought the knife up and plunged it deep into Cruz's chest.

The scream sounded like it just came out of a horror game. It was so enticing. Matthew laughed and thrusted the knife again and again, continuing until Cruz grew silent.

He examined the knife, now stained a rich red. An uncanny giggle escaped his lips. "You see, Cruz, this was really your fault. After all, it was you who led this little lamb to the slaughter."

After he cleaned the living room up, throwing out the unwanted guest, Matthew sighed. It was truly remarkable, having the abilities to decide a person's fate. It felt… good.

That night he had a delicious feast of vanilla ice cream and a new, red topping made just for himself. And just like that the addiction began, a blood-curdling addiction that would be the end of fourteen different people. And it would delight him until the very end.

End.

A/N:

Well, that was interesting. Thank you everyone for reading my story! I hope to see you at the next one, bye!

~SpiritoftheMapleLeaf

Disclaimer: Original plotline by Jack Kilborn and Blake Crouch. Based on their short story, Serial. I only claim credit for putting the plot and Hetalia together, thank you!