Hello! I promised you a longer chapter, and here it is! All 3,514 words of it ;) Enjoy!


Chapter 7 - Mon Singapour

***Singapore***

12:49pm

"What the fuck are you on about, Iggy?" I was pissed off. It was turning out to be one of the worst days I'd had in a long time.

"I'm saying you should stay away from that bloody Nation."

"Yeah, I got that thanks. Now tell me why the hell I should listen to you."

"Young lady, I am the one who raised you from a small fishing island to one of the main communication and trading ports!"

"And I'm bloody lucky I turned out so well. Sure you raised me, when you weren't slumming it in Tortuga after getting tired of pretending you were a gentleman!"

"How dare you! I am a gentleman!"

"Your a bloody pirate in a suit!" I lost my temper. "Since you gave me independence from you it has been none of your fucking business who I talk to! So bugger off!" My English slang was a reminiscence of my days under British rule. I glared at the Englishman and stormed out of the dining hall. God I hated it when he tried to pull that 'previous ruler' thing. Even though we normally got on really well, that never failed to infuriate me. I headed to my favourite place in the whole city: the mechanics lab. Maybe working on that new communicator will calm me down.

1:14pm

"Bonjour Reina." I glanced over at the door. France stood there, leaning casually against the door frame, smiling slightly. I rolled my eyes and returned to the screen in front of me. What does he want?

"Francis." He took that as an opportunity to come closer.

"What are you working on, mon ami?" I sighed inwardly. Like he really wants to know.

"It's a new communicator. I'm adjusting the design so they use less power but provide more range. I've been getting complaints that communication is patchy between the east sub-section and the control room. I'm hoping to be able to boost the output by increasing the efficiency of the transmitter- and you don't know what the hell I'm on about."

"Non." Despite myself I laughed. I sometimes forgot that other people weren't as technology-obsessed as I was.

"Basically the communicators aren't strong enough to reach between the east sub-section and the control tower. I'm trying to make them strong enough to reach the tower without them guzzling all their power in one go."

"Like trying to give Amerique enough sugar to think clearly without letting him eat it all at once."

"Well, yes." I was surprised. France didn't really strike me as intuitive. Perverted? Yes. Smart? Maybe. Able to understand technological problems? Hell no. But he wasn't finished.

"Maybe, mon ami, it is not the lack of sucre that is the problem. Perhaps it is his hangover, non?" I stared at him blankly. Where the hell had he got a hangover from? Then an idea began to form slowly in my head.

"You mean, it's not the communicators that are the problem, its something in that section thats acting as a jammer and interfering with the line?" I could see that I had lost him again. Well at least he hasn't tried to hit on me. Yet. I turned round and shut down the terminal. When I turned back again I found France's face way to close for comfort. I mean we were practically nose-to-nose!

"What the bloody buggering hell!" I stumbled back and ended up sitting on the console. But... His eyes were actually quite nice... A sort of pastel blue... I was spellbound for a second. Then he blinked and the moment passed. I shook my head slightly. What the hell was that?

"Ah, mon Singapour, I was just... Investigating your work." he smiled flirtatiously. Yeah, thats not all you were investigating, I thought sarcastically. And Iggy would have your balls for breakfast. Then: That bloody Englishman! I bet this would get right up his nose! Well then. Thats settled. I smirked at him.

"I'm going down to the east sub-section to see if I can find anything. You gonna come with?" He seemed surprised that I offered.

"N-naturellement." I nodded, before sashaying out of the room, knowing full well France was staring at my arse. See how Iggy likes that!

1:22pm

"I've never actually been down here before." I looked up from my handheld computer - one of my personal creations - to France's face. He was shining his torch around the dark corridor, staring around. A glimmer of a smile appeared on my lips. I didn't blame him. Up until recently these levels had been flooded completely. But with recent repairs we had been able to pump the water out and explore. However it was still dark and cold. The corridors were like all the others in Atlantis: tall ceilings, at least eight feet, with a metallic strip about a foot in width running along in the center. In the others the decor was a tasteful burnt umber. In here it was sludge green.

"I'm not surprised, Fǎlánxī. Its only really the staff that come down here. Or people wanting to have some privacy." I glanced at him, trying to hide my amusement. He looked confused. Poor Frenchman.

"Quoi? What was that you said, mon ami?"

"Fǎlánxī. It's France in Mandarin." I smiled at him. He smiled back, his eyes gleaming cheerfully. Inwardly, I gave an evil giggle.

"En Francais, you are called Singapour. Mais there is little difference in pronunciation." I shrugged.

"Probably your influence on the tea bastard." Oops. But Francis only laughed.

"Now you sound like Romano." My laughter joined his and echoed down the corridors. Suddenly my handheld beeped. I allowed my laughter to die down as I stopped walking and frowned at the screen. Francis came to a stop beside me.

"C'est quoi, mon cher?" I tapped at the touch-sensitive screen, my frown increasing.

"I'm picking up some sort of radiation coming from up ahead."

"Rayonnement? N'est-ce pas mortelle?" I sighed and looked up at him.

"You're speaking French again. You are going to have to teach me sometime." France coughed and smiled apologetically.

"Je suis desole. Is radiation not deadly?" I returned to my hand-held and tapped a few more options.

"At these levels, no. But why the hell is it here in the first place?" I held up the computer so Francis could also see. "It's coming from up there. Wanna check it out?" The temptation was too much for Francis to resist.

"Naturellement, mon cher. Lead the way." I grinned at him, before jogging down the corridor towards where my handheld said the source of the radiation was. France jogged quickly after me.

A few minutes later we came to a small room leading off from the corridor. France started to enter but stopped at my hand on his chest. I could feel his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his shirt, strong and steady. What is with you today! I silently scolded myself, dropping my hand like he had burned me before clearing my throat.

"Don't. There seems to be some sort of energy field around the doorway. It could be there to keep the radiation in, or to keep us out. Either way, it does not bear well for you if you try to go through." France merely smiled reassuringly.

"Do not worry, mon cher. Je suis un Nation. I think I can handle a little energy fie-" As he spoke he walked forwards and was suddenly cut off as a bolt of energy arced out from the door frame and struck his nose. He was thrown back against the opposite wall before sliding into a sitting position. His torch had shattered upon impact with the wall, leaving my handheld as the only source of light. He blinked rapidly and rubbed his nose.

"Ca fait mal."

"Prick. I told you so." France shot me an aggrieved look.

"No need to rub it in, mon cher." I sighed, hiding a smile behind my handheld.

"Its a good thing you are a Nation. That would have stopped a normal human's heart." I looked over at him again. He was still nursing his nose in the faint light. I had another torch strapped to my belt, but for some reason I didn't feel like getting it out right now. "Want me to kiss it better?" I remarked dryly. France's eyes rose to meet mine as I realised what I had said. The corridor went dark as the handheld's screensaver cut in. I could hear the Nation's quiet breathing in the dark, rhythmic like my own, connecting us. Suddenly the dark and the silence became awkward and I jabbed at the handheld again. A pale light filled the corridor again and I held a hand down to Francis. He paused before accepting the help and allowing me to pull him to his feet. I unstrapped the torch and handed it to him, switching it on as I did. He smiled gratefully.

"Merci." Did he not feel that? Or was he just used to it? I was unbelievably confused. My normal feisty self had given way to an immense cloud of conflicting thoughts. I pulled myself together slightly and gritted my teeth.

"Right, we should get a proper team down here with rad suits on. See what they can make of this." I knew I was babbling but I needed to fill the silence with something to get rid of... Whatever the hell that had been. France nodded.

"Apres-vous." I jogged down the corridor with France close behind me, my head whirring frantically. I never thought I would think this, I thought to myself, but I need some help.

I need to talk to the Bad Touch Trio.

Minus France of course.

*** Singapore ***

2:05pm

"Normally I probably wouldn't ask you this, but you are his best friends." I bit my lip uncertainly. Spain and Prussia stared at me incredulously. We were in the makeshift bar that Cassandra had allowed them to set up. It was her thinking that "Hey, it was better to know what they were drinking than for them to pass out, end up in the medical bay and have us panicking." It was in one of the many training rooms throughout the city, a fifteen meter decagon with a tall ceiling. High silver-grey tables had been taken from the dining hall and set up in a long row about a quarter of the way of the room, simulating a 'bar'. Bar stools had been specially imported from Earth (God knows what strings Cassie pulled to get them) and were pulled up to the bar. Smaller round tables were arranged in the open space. The lighting was dimmer than the other sections of the city, a way of reminding the Nations of the bars at home. As Cassandra was definitely not a hypocrite, there was no opening or closing times and there was always at least half a dozen people in there at one time, more after 5pm. Spain, Prussia and I had taken a table in the corner furthest away from the door in order to get some privacy. I glared at them.

"What the hell's that look for?" Prussia drained his beer while Spain answered.

"Its just surprising that someone actually likes France when they're sober. You are actually sober, aren't you? You don't seem drunk." "

Yes I'm bloody sober!" Prussia nodded slowly.

"You sound like England when you swear. The awesome me thinks that could be why you like him."

"But I don't like him! At least, I never used to!" I was exasperated. I put my head down on the table and instantly regretted it. There was a pool of beer there which I hadn't noticed before. Great, now I needed a shower as well! This had been a bad idea. Spain looked thoughtful

"You said you had an arguement with Inglaterra before this? Maybe thats why." I cleared my throat and stared at the table guiltily.

"Um... The thing is... At first I was deliberately leading Francis on to piss England off. I didn't really care about him at first." The two Nations stared at me. Then Spain threw the remainder of his wine at me.

"WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?" I yelled, standing up as the cold liquid cascaded down my front. Prussia started cracking up. I was furious. I grabbed my jacket and started to wipe the liquid off of me, not noticing Romano approach our table.

"There you are, tomato bastard. I've been looking for you. Eh, Singapore, why are you soaked?" I looked up, murder in my eyes. The Italian was standing a few feet away from me, staring at the dark stains that were spreading fast across my top.

"Your tomato bastard just threw his wine at me!" Romano looked at Spain curiously.

"Why the hell you do that, bastard?" Spain opened his mouth to explain but stopped when I poured my Bloody Mary down his throat. Romano sniggered as Spain went red and choked. Prussia shook his head, smiling. One of the bar staff looked over and called to us.

"Hey! No fighting guys. Don't make me call Germany down here." Romano snorted.

"What could that potato bastard do? Arrest us?" Prussia set his beer bottle down carefully on the table.

"That is my brother your talking about, Romano."

"And my brothers boyfriend. So I can say what the hell I want to, bastard!"

"You come here and say that again, schwein!"

"Don't you call my Roma a schwein!"

"Stay out of it tomato bastard!"

"Will you calm the fuck down? You're like bloody children!"

"At least I'm not a heartless perra!"

"Oh you did not just call me that!"

Things deteriorated from there.

*** Cassandra ***

2:18pm

I stared at my empty coffee cup. This was not working. I needed something a little stronger. So much for cutting down huh. I swung my legs off my desk and rose to my feet, stretching. I dumped my cup on my desk and headed out of my office, calling to Andromeda as I jogged down the stairs.

"Andromeda, I'm heading to the bar for a drink. Want me to bring you anything?"

"I'm good thank you!" she called back. I smiled as I headed down the corridor. You couldn't really tell she was American unless you really listened to the way she phrased things. I stepped into the transporter, the doors closing behind me and a panel opening in front of me. A map of the city appeared on the screen, with glowing dots symbolising the locations of the transporters. I tapped the glowing dot nearest to the bar, wincing at the sudden vertigo as I was sent to the other doors slid open to reveal an almost identical corridor. I strode along it, my pace quickening as I imagined the burn of Russian vodka sliding down my throat. As I drew near, faint sounds reached my ears. They got louder as I got closer. Finally I reached the door, the noise sharpening into thuds and shouting. Puzzled, I waved my hand at the sensor controlling the doors to the 'bar'. They slid open to reveal a scene I had not expected to see.

The place was a complete war scene. Tables were overturned, glass shards littered the floor and the chairs were strewn about the room. Some of the metal bar stools were bent and crumpled out of shape, while some of the wooden chairs were nothing but splinters. Several people were hiding underneath the bar itself, including the 'bartender'. Singapore had Spain by the shoulders and was throwing him into walls, tables, etc. She seemed to be soaked and had dark stains on her clothing. Prussia and Romano had what looked to be the legs off of one of the bar stools and were fighting viciously with them. All four were completely soaked in what looked to be nearly the entire contents of the bar. Francis was standing just in front of the door, staring at the fighting Nations. I took a few steps next to him.

"What the-"

"Je ne sais pas, Cassandra. I got here deux minutes ago, and they were like this." I was stunned. Then I started shouting.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!" They took no notice. Perhaps they couldn't hear me over the noise they were making. I screamed it even louder. Still nothing. I turned to France.

"Wait here please. Make sure they do not kill each other."

"Oui." I backed out of the room again, unable to tear my eyes from the sheer devastation they were causing. Only when the door closed in front of me did I turn away. I headed three meters down the corridor to the right and stopped. In the wall a small rectangle of black glass was embedded at waist height. I placed my hand, palm first, on it. It glowed green for a second, then went dark again. I took my hand off and words appeared in neon green.

AUTHORISATION?

"Commander Rachel Smith, call sign Cassandra. Authorisation code Omega Gamma five-one-two." The screen went dark again, before a new message appeared.

AUTHORISATION ACCEPTED.

To the right of the panel, a section of wall one meter square slid downwards to reveal exactly what I was looking for. I retrieved it, placed my hand on the glass to close the panel up again, and headed back towards the bar. I waved my hand at the sensor, stepped in and surveyed the scene again. Nothing much had changed, except that Romano was now punching Prussia instead of hitting him with a metal pole.

"Cover your ears." I advised France. He looked at what I held in my hands and his eyes widened in astonishment. Then he backed up and placed both hands over his ears. When I was sure he was okay, I raised the double barrel shotgun and fired it at the ceiling.

The gunshot echoed through the room. All four Nations instantly ducked and swivelled round, their eyes widening as they saw me standing in the doorway, a shotgun balanced in my hands. When I was sure I had their attention, I started shouting.

"WHAT THE FUCKING HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!" My shriek reverberated off of the walls. I could sense France backing slowly out of the door behind me. I let him go. "HAVE YOU GONE COMPLETELY FUCKING INSANE? DO I NEED TO SEND YOU TO THE MEDICAL BAY?" I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and released it again, gripping the shotgun tightly in both hands. Inner peace... Inner peace... "Clean this place up." I said in a calmer tone, "Then get your arses up to my office. I want to know what started this. And it had better be good."


Translations (*sigh*, there are a lot today!)
Fǎlánxī - France (Mandarin)
C'est quoi? - What is it? (French)
Rayonnement? N'est-ce pas mortelle? - Radiation? Is that not deadly? (French)
Ca fait mal - That hurt (French)
schwein - pig (German)
perra - bitch (Spanish)
Je ne sais pas
- I do not know (French)

I finally managed to add a shotgun in, yay! Haha hope you liked it! Feel free to correct the translations and review and I'll try to upload the next bit tomorrow :)
Much
love
Mel xx