"The firs' thing I guess'd be gettin' outta the bunker. Er, I was sorta forced out, actually. Raided."
Two years previously, north of Næstved, Denmark
The image of his ransacked bunker burned in Denmark's mind as he ran. The gravelly ground beneath his feet crunched lightly, though he was unable to hear it over the sound of blood and adrenaline pumping through his veins. Just get over the hill, he urged himself, but as soon as he'd thought it, he knew it couldn't be done. His legs and lungs were frailer now, already worn from the trip to the market that morning, and he could feel them gaining distance, closing in on him.
It wasn't really a conscious action. Just an act of survival, really. That's what he'd tell himself afterwards. It took 8 bullets, and before he even knew what was happening, the gun that had been on his back was falling from his hands, smacking the ground with heavy clack. Their three unprotected bodies hit the ground as well. Another thing he would remind himself of; They were probably going to die of radiation poisoning anyway if they left their suits behind for the chase. He had shortened their misery, really.
Their eyes had been what scared Matthias more than anything. They were no longer quite... Human, as he would put it later. Hollow and sunken, filled with a certain hunger which he had so commonly seen in predators going after their prey. And in this case, he was the prey, weary and unsuspecting, an easier target than he'd like to admit. He didn't want to think about what could have happened had he been captured, nor did he really want to think about the measures he'd taken to avoid the fate, so instead he went into his lonely bunker.
That was when the panic set in. People passed by his bunker all the time. It was only a couple kilometers away from the market, and it wasn't unheard of for people to spot it and ask to stay for the night, unable or unwilling to trade for their stay in the market's bunker. But now there were bodies. There were three bodies, and they were maybe 20 meters away from the ground-level hatch. People would take notice of his location, and he already knew what they would assume. That he'd killed them in cold blood, robbed them, taken their supplies, their suits, anything he could apart from their raggedy clothing. He doubted anyone would even take a moment to listen to his account of what had happened, let alone believe it.
Denmark packed as much as he could carry before he left. He had no real plan, apart from get out. Leave the evidence behind and don't come back. He was too stubborn to admit his own fear to himself, the fear that he could die getting to wherever he was headed. Nations don't die, he kept telling himself. And it was true, wasn't it? He'd never heard of it happening. Even the ones that weren't really nations anymore, they were out there somewhere, right? Rome and Germania, they must be out there. And Prussia, he was certainly still around. No, nations didn't die. Death was something that they could only quietly wish for in their darkest hours, only to be punished by their cruel fate of immortality.
The hangout area had quieted down quite a bit, with only the nations and a small group chatty bystanders conversing a few meters away from them. Four more applicants had approached them mid-way through Denmark's recollection of his escape, two men and two women, a group of friends who had found their way down from Rovaniemi together. They were all in their early 20's, and Berwald had never seen such thin, bony faces on anyone so young. They were near starvation, he assessed, but still seemed sturdy enough to withstand the trip. Besides, he felt strangely obligated to help them, even if they weren't really his own people. They were all accepted to join.
"Why'd ye come t'fin' me?" Sweden's question came after he had taken a moment to allow the story to sink in, a numb bafflement to his tone. Matthias sighed deeply and readjusted himself on the ground, mulling the question over a bit before choosing the right response. "I think we got too human. All'a us. An' we start need companionship. An' your my bror, I wasn' gonna let ya go through an apocalypse all by yaself. What kinda family would tha' make me, hm?" He nudged Berwald in the ribs lightly with his elbow, chuckling at him. The Swede smirked and nodded, not completely sure what his brother was getting at, but still agreeing; They had become more human over the years. More reserved and friendly, wanting a normal life as opposed to the glory they would seek out in their younger days. It was a strange thought to have planted in his mind, but he liked it. He honestly liked the life they led as countries, no matter how hard it could get, because there were always the moments like this to look forward to.
