I couldn't believe it. He was here. That no good son of a bitch was right next to me. The living, breathing dictator of the Motherland. I could kill him here and be done with it. But that's what was bugging me. What was here doing here in the first place? I expected a towering man in a tan military suit, but I get a drunk who gives the impression of any lowlife on the streets of a city. Disgusting.
Oh, wait. I forgot. He wasn't the leader, supposedly. So I guess the real head of the country didn't need him anymore.
Ivan was able to deduce my expression with one look.
"Confusing, no?" He said vaguely. "Tossed like trash." He took a swig of his alcohol before continuing. "The leader is brutal."
"Who's the real leader?" I asked, anxiously wanting to know who was behind this.
"I do not know. In the beginning, I really was the leader. I made trades with many countries. It could have been any of them. Then suddenly, Berwald drugged me and sent me here. He only told me that he does not take orders from me anymore. I was set up, and here I am."
He gestured at himself with his hands, alcohol bottle still in his hand. I stood up, sitting on the flimsy bedding in the corner of the cell. I hugged my knees, letting the information seep in.
"How long has he kept you here?"
"A week."
I sighed. It was unluckily reasonable. It had been about a week since the attack in America… I looked over to Peter. He was sitting on a fragile wooden chair. The chair creaked every time he kicked his legs back and forth. I looked back at Ivan.
"How long has Peter been stuck here?"
Ivan's face lost its careless expression. His look was grim, regretful.
"Since the day Berwald adopted him."
"What?" I stood up from the bed, completely stunned. Since the day…? But the last time we talked about Sealand in the world meeting was years ago! Berwald brought up the subject… In 1942? '43? That meant…
"Peter's been stuck here for 70 years?" I shouted, raising my voice at each word.
"74," Ivan corrected, looking at Peter with sympathy. "Yes, ever since Berwald came along and adopted poor, lonely Peter, now sentenced to a lifelong imprisonment. Pitiful, is it not?"
I glanced over at Peter. He looked puzzled, like he was missing something. Suddenly, he spoke up.
"Ivan, Alfred…" Peter muttered. "Does daddy… hate me?" Ivan rolled his eyes, sighing.
"He certainly does not care."
"Then why'd he adopt me?" Peter cried, a tear streaking down his cheek. He wiped it away, sniveling.
"That is something we may never know," Ivan mumbled, finishing what seemed like his sixth bottle of vodka. I sat silently, listening to Peter's newfound sobs. The atmosphere of distress hung thickly. I lay down on the stiff bed, collecting the details. Peter has been stuck in his cell for 74 years, he was adopted by Berwald, and Ivan used to be Leader, but was imprisoned by the true Leader…
It's like this man, the Leader, had been planning this. Like he knew Peter was incredibly gifted, like he knew all the Motherland's allies well, like he was clever enough to capture most of the world…
And suddenly, things just clicked together slowly. I had a strange impulse to ask Ivan a question.
"Which countries did you trade with?" I practically ordered the Russian. He sighed, closing his eyes halfway, recalling the names.
"Once and a while I traded with Poland, although he hates me. There was you, your brother, the dim Englishman, the sultry- I mean the romantic Frenchman, Germany, Spain, and Wang."
I noticed how Ivan only said China's formal name. So, it all came down to seven suspects, not including myself, of course.
Poland… Feliks! Hm, not that I didn't like Feliks, but he wasn't really Motherland material. He's hated Russia since, well…
I was surprised when he mentioned my brother. Matthew was always wary around Ivan, even with Kumajirou guarding him. Speaking of the polar bear, where was he? Well, it'd be best to keep my guard up, even though I wouldn't pick Matthew out of all the suspects.
Arthur… Hm… That's strange. Gilbert doesn't seem to trust him. I wonder…
… Francis? Please, Francis couldn't stay sober for half a day. I doubt he'd be reasonable enough to run a country.
Ludwig. That scared me. I didn't necessarily like him, but I trusted him. I'd be shocked if he was betraying us.
Antonio. I don't know him especially well, but I couldn't picture him ruling such a place.
And Wang. Wang helped us this far, but perhaps it was just to get us in the Motherland?
All this information was a bit much to take in at once. I had my suspects… But how would this help me now? I was stuck here, and I wouldn't be able to pursue anyone to see if what I've learned is true. Unless…
"Peter," I beckoned. Peter look up.
"Yeah?"
"If you're made of steel, you can punch through steel. That's the logic, right?"
"… Yeah?"
"What I mean is, we can get out of here. All you need to do is break out of your cell, and break mine."
"Ours," Ivan corrected.
"Yes," I agreed, "and we can get out of here."
"Unless they bring more vodka." Ivan butted in once again. I glared.
"Whatever. So, why don't you try controlling your power to the point were you only break your cell?"
Peter shrugged. "I'll try." He stood up, examining the iron bars, and pulled his arm back.
And then, glorious! He punched the cell!
… He punched the cell. No, that's all he did. It didn't scatter into a million pieces like I'd hoped. Peter clutched his fist in pain.
"Ow ow ow!" Peter yelped.
"Hm," I muttered, disappointed, "try again, and this time, not so much controlling."
Peter nodded, embarrassed. This time, he closed his eyes, breathing evenly. Ivan stood up, rubbing the dust off his pants.
"What are you doing?" I asked him. He pointed to Peter, who had successfully left his small cell, coughing in the cloud of dust he created.
"Way to go, Pete! Wait… How did you know?"
Ivan pointed to his forehead, grinning. "Intuition."
I felt my heartbeat waver.
"Heracles!" I shouted. "And- and Tino! Everyone! We've got to go save them!" I felt useless then. Completely useless. I was sitting here, thinking about my impossible obsession with finding the leader of the Motherland, when I came here to actually do something in the first place. I wanted a punch in the stomach.
"Not so fast," Ivan said. "I can understand why you are so desperate to save those countries. It runs in your blood. You have an impulse to do righteous things. It is very brash, and dangerous."
"Why are you telling me what to do?" I asked, my disgust with Ivan turned on full blast. "You're the one who started it all! I can do whatever I please!"
"Let me explain," he coaxed, sitting back down. Peter was busy curving the iron bars on our cell like he was pushing away curtains.
"What are we waiting for?" Peter inquired. Ivan motioned for him.
"Go bend the bars back," he ordered.
"What?" Peter whined. "It was really hard to-"
"Just do it," Ivan sighed. "There are guards coming. We can plan and look inconspicuous."
Although I hated to admit it, he was right. Two conscripts were heading our way; I could already hear their footsteps echoing, getting louder. Reluctantly, Peter arched the bars back to their original state. The guards passed without even looking our way. Ivan took the time to recollect his thoughts.
"True, I created the Motherland. In a tribute to Mother Russia…" Ivan clarified, looking regretful. "As the empire grew, so did my notoriety. I was thrilled to have my name known across the world again. Since the fall of the Iron Curtain, I felt extremely neglected, you could say. I conquered other countries to build my new country."
"That doesn't make you good," I said coldly. "But I see what you mean. In the beginning, you didn't necessarily want to kill off countries, just control them. Oh, joy," I said, throwing my hands up in exasperation.
"I am not finished, Alfred," Ivan said, scratching his growing stubble. "After I controlled Sweden, Belarus, Turkey, and even General Winter himself, my power grew and grew. I suppose this targeted the interest of a certain country…" Ivan referred to the new leader of the Motherland. "This… Man, I am assuming, became fascinated with my power. Obsessive, it seems. He must have won over the countries I conquered into working for him, and I was overthrown. Putting this all together, the man must be very persuasive, da, very charming."
I considered this. Who was the person who could win over another's trust easily? Feliks was only persuasive to a few countries, I doubted he could influence them all. Matthew is hesitant, so he's ruled out. Arthur isn't necessarily persuasive. Francis… He is seductive, I'll give him that, if that's what Ivan meant. Ludwig could force someone into helping him. Antonio is a very trustworthy man, so maybe… And Wang…
Wait… Wang… He…
"He was in love with you!" I shouted. Ivan was slightly startled, but Peter jumped instinctively like a cat. "Wang! Wang Yao!"
Ivan sighed.
"It would seem so…" Ivan mused. I continued.
"And now, now Wang's really got a bone to pick with you." I realized. "I mean, he helped us get here in the first place. He's got a lot of power, not as much as you, so maybe he got jealous after your affair ended?"
"Possible," was all that Ivan muttered.
"It makes sense, doesn't it?" I asked the Russian. "Yeah… Yeah, Wang's the leader! He's got to be! Nobody else fits in so perfectly!"
"Do not judge the artist by the picture," Ivan said. "It is the details that make the difference. It may not be Wang at all. I doubt it. He has too much nobility for his country."
"But… but…" I stammered. I thought I was dead on. I was sure of it.
"We cannot decide who is who yet," Ivan continued. "We do not know enough to decide."
I stood up, frustrated again. Peter checked to see that no guards were making their rounds this way. He bent the bars again, getting used to controlling his strength. He lightly stepped out, followed by me, and the amazingly sober Ivan after a pint and a half of vodka.
"Ok, let's leave this joint," I said coolly.
"Not with Vanya, you do not."
What the hell…?
The voice came out of nowhere. Peter, suddenly alarmed, put his fists up like a boxer. The three of us stood back to back, leaving a foot of space in between us. The lights abruptly shut off, leaving a dark void where prison cells and dirt floor was before. And strangely, I could feel Ivan shaking next to me. I never saw… Well, felt him like this. He was supposed to be the man without feat. What happened to that?
Then I realized. There was a glistening object held close to Ivan's throat. Well, of course it was a knife. But two things that sort of bugged me.
One, Ivan was having a sort of silent fit. It was like he was paralyzed and trying to get away. The Ivan I knew wouldn't cower so obviously, if he would cower at all.
And two, the knife somehow was held behind him-
Oh my God.
Instantly Peter and I jumped away, grasping the situation. The person, whoever it was, silently entered the space in between our circle. Since we were facing away from the center of the circle, we wouldn't have noticed the figure slip into the picture. How he did it was something I would never understand.
"Touch Vanya, and I will kill you," the voice growled. It seemed to be a woman.
Ok… There was only one female (human being, for that matter) that showed affection for Ivan besides Katyusha.
"N-Natalya," Ivan stuttered. "This is unnecessary."
Natalya held the knife closer to her brother's neck.
"Nie, Vanya, this is very necessary. I cannot let them take you away."
"This is my own choice, Natalya," Ivan said, calming himself down. "I wish to go with them. Do it for me."
"Nie!" She opposed, her voice raising an octave. "They are fools! They want to hurt you, dearest Vanya. I will not allow it. Come with me, and we can be happy together."
I stood in the darkest, letting my eyes adjust. I didn't move for fear of Ivan's extreme sister. She would think I'd try to hurt 'Vanya'. Ivan forcefully moved Natalya's hands. He clutched Natalya's hand until she cried out in pain. The Belarusian seemed formidable, but was weak compared to her older brother.
"Не угрожать мне, как это еще раз. В следующий раз я не буду удерживать на мое наказание."
I was sure, even though I didn't speak Russian, that Natalya's eyes widened at his tone of voice. He wasn't joking. The lights suddenly flickered back on, and I got my first look at Natalya in years.
She hadn't really changed. She still wore the same deep blue dress and white apron. Her hair was like light gold, dropping to her back. And of course, she still had the knife in her injured hand. She glared at me, obviously thinking I wanted Ivan to myself. But when she looked back at Ivan, her eyes were filled with hurt.
"Ваня, я хотел только-"
"I do not care anymore," Ivan roared. He stood closer to Natalya, frowning at her with furious violet eyes. "Do not come to me ever again. Unless it is something good."
"Vanya," Natalya pleaded, tears in her eyes, "Vanya, please…"
"Enough," Ivan interrupted, holding a hand up. "We are finished."
Ivan began walking toward the metal doors enclosing us in the prison. He opened the door, and a chilly breeze settled around us. Peter and I quickly left, leaving Natalya on her knees, muttering disturbing Russian words in my direction.
Oh my! This chapter was slightly boring, but not the worst. So now we have our suspects, some more suspicious than others. Of course, it's up to you to make up your mind now, or wait until later chapters to find out. Believe me. You won't get it right the first time.
… Well, maybe you will. But it's highly unlikely! Now, be good followers/subscribers/yaoi addicts and wait for the next chapter! Ciao!
