The mass executions continued for a week. Feli's ears no longer held the echo of the gun, instead filling with Gilbert's praise. He was strong. He didn't care what these people did, how they cried, that they were living. He was making his friend happy. He was doing this to be better. And he was doing well. He didn't feel like a nuisance anymore.
He didn't feel like much of anything unless Gilbert gave him those words dripping with gold.
"You're perfect, Feli."
Gilbert had started discussing what sounded like a plan with him when he settled to study the war reports. Feli initially didn't quite understand what he was hearing, the mentions of Ludwig and home not immediately bringing anything but confusion to his mind.
The pale man wanted Feli to go home. Said he was ready enough to do it. Gilbert would go as well, walk him through the steps of what he called 'integration'.
"West will probably be a little mad initially, since you've been gone for months and all, but don't worry over it. All you have to do is play along, pretend you don't know where you've been, and go home to rest. Call me in a couple days after you settle and you'll be set to finish the last step."
Feli nodded unblinkingly. He didn't feel like questioning any of it. He'd trust his friend, follow his lead. He'd be a good soldier soon. Good soldiers carried out orders.
That was the last night Feli spent in his room. The next morning, he left Gilbert's house after breakfast- something he couldn't recall tasting, like all other mornings- shuffling down the dirt drive in an unfamiliar outfit leant to him by the Prussian. The slacks fit him well enough, but the dress shirt was loose, his shoulders not as wide as the other man's, even after the various training exercises. He didn't understand why he had to wear it, but he supposed he could suffer the ill-fitted shirt until he got to his country.
His first goal was to find a tourist's directory; he never actually learned the layout of the city before he left to stay with Gilbert. Picking at a folded map, he refolded it to show the road he wanted to take. He in half a mind to go back and ask Gilbert for pocket change just to buy a bus ticket for as far it would help. The prospect of walking so many miles would never appeal to him.
Somehow, it was impossible for to walk down the street in peace. After a few blocks, a child sitting on the shoulders of their parent cried, wailing a similar tone to the ones that had echoed in the walls of the basement. Feliciano grit his teeth as he passed them, trying kick his annoyance back down. That sound was so grating he could hardly stand it. Thinking of how he was once as loud as the child, he shuddered in self-revulsion. Gilbert was a blessing for what he did for him. He would need to find a way to repay the man.
He was in another city after a few hours, trading his map for one with more relevant information. He knew how tiresome this was going to be.
"Excuse me, sir?"
Feli didn't react at first to the person's voice, too busy tracing the best route to the next city.
"Sir?"
The Italian glanced up, taking less than a second to determine that he didn't want to talk to the woman in front of him, and moved to stand in a different place. All the woman needed to do was not follow him. But, of course, she wouldn't be so kind.
"You look like you could use help, sir."
Feliciano grumbled under his breath and turned to look at her fully. Her skin color reminded him of one of the people rotting in the marsh. Probably wasn't that pretty color anymore, though. Humans were gross throughout their life, it seemed.
"What do you want."
"Oh, you're a foreigner. Are you lost? Did a pickpocket get you?"
Feli gritted his teeth once again before forcing himself to relax and smile. Maybe she would leave him alone. He would like to continue on his way. She just had to leave.
"No," he said, trying to imitate pleasantness. "I don't have anything along the lines of a wallet. I'm trying to get back to my country, but it's been slow going. Even more so now that you're talking to me."
The woman blinked, taken aback by his sudden rudeness, before smiling in apology. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was just… I'll be going, then."
"Please do."
Feli went back to looking at the map, not paying attention to the woman standing two feet from him.
"You came out of the nuthead's house, you know?"
He sighed and glared over the paper. Why wouldn't she leave?
"I haven't a clue what you mean, dear." Another smile.
"That albino psychopath? He abducts people. You were in his house. You should know."
The smile almost turned genuine with amusement. "Of course I know. It would be hard to kill them otherwise."
"What?"
Grumbling, Feliciano folded the map up and forced it into his pocket. "I imagine one of them was a relative, if you followed me this long. Not that I would care who it was. Hell, they were probably annoying me. A lot of them begged. God, such a racket in that room. Felt like there was never quiet."
The woman screamed. Feli watched as her faced contorted, passing from horror, to anger, to pure madness. She scrambled with her purse, pulling out a silvery glinting thing. Ah, he was familiar with that.
"You'd probably be an annoying one, wouldn't you?"
He hadn't actually been trained in combat, so it was a poor idea of his to taunt the enraged woman with a knife. He was just tired, and she shouldn't have stopped him for such a stupid reason. She should have been grateful it wasn't her, that it was someone else. Though she probably deserved it more, acting on that need to threaten and kill him.
She lunged forward, and he didn't bother moving. He steeled himself from the pain, keeping his jaw locked to avoid any unnecessary injury. That was why he was gagged during step two, after all. Biting his tongue off in reaction to that burning pain would be the most counterproductive thing.
The woman made her mistake the instant she pulled away- she didn't take the knife. His mind was practically reeling in the face of her action. What idiot would leave a dagger in the hands of a murderer who had yet to collapse?
It's not like he's ever expressed a dislike to his actions.
He would regret his own choice of pulling the knife out his side sooner rather than later, but he figure it was an easier option. He grabbed the woman by her hair, pulling her away from the open and deserted sidewalk. She thrashed, yelling out angry and pleading things. Such a racket. He was only annoyed, irritation doubling as her blood poured over his fingers when he used the knife to cut away at her neck. It was so messy, this murder. He preferred the gun and its sharp retort to the gurgling and bubbling of a throat trying to breathe as it bled.
He could mask the blood as his own, as the white shirt was now dirty and stained, the mark having quickly spread from his abdomen. He kept pressure on it, hobbling back down the street. He regretted another decision- taking the back roads out of the town. There wasn't a single person or shop open. The tourist place with the maps didn't even have someone manning the counter.
When a new sound entered his awareness, some hundred yards away from the alley where the woman would begin her decay, he paused, lurching back to look for the direction it came from. The echo was bad here. Too many buildings, not enough green. Nothing to dampen the noise and tell him where it started. It grew louder, trying to dredge up a memory. A thing. A noisy, growly thing.
A car. He was remembering Ludwig's car. The muscle-y thing sounded so different from the rattle and pings of the people who frequented the streets he was walking. It whipped around a corner, as if the driver wasn't paying attention, and passed him without a hesitation. Turning another corner, Feli only looked after it, counting to three before he heard the telltale squeal of tires burning to a stop. He counted to five before he saw it come back, much slower, and pulled up beside him.
Ludwig didn't bother turning off the engine when he threw the door open to look at Feli. The shock of seeing the missing man so bloody and out of sorts made him pause, mouth agape, for more than a few seconds before he could hurriedly usher him into the car.
The ride to a hospital was fast, as was the conversation. It was over too quickly before he could notice that Feliciano's personality had ultimately changed. The usually talkative man didn't volunteer any more information than what Ludwig asked, but that could so much more be due to the fact that he was bleeding out on the seat.
The man didn't even groan in pain when Ludwig helped him stagger into the emergency room. The man who would usually cry legitimate tears after being smacked on the head didn't make a sound as he walked and sat with an open knife wound. It made Ludwig shudder when he thought back on it.
Feliciano pretended to sleep after the surgery and stitching for the sake of avoiding more questions. He was so used to Gilbert and his taciturn tendencies that he had forgotten that other people didn't already know everything about him and would almost always want information.
The car ride alone was exhausting, even if he had to chalk most of the feeling up to the blood loss.
He would have to talk to Ludwig again eventually, convince the man to let him return to Italy and manage his country's affairs. He'd been putting that off since forever. Now he had all the reason to muddle in its workings. He knew what to do with it. His friend had told him the basic plan. It was sure to be simple and easy.
