OK, so, I lied. Russia's group gets most of the spotlight starting next chapter. (I think?) So, I have misinformed you, but they really will get to do things starting next time. For now, only Lithuania does anything in this chapter, out of that group.
So, with that said... Here is a chapter.
Chapter Nine: Flames
As Lithuania made his way down the surprisingly packed streets, he began to wonder if something had taken place during the night. There seemed to be people everywhere, discussing everything from the new government to where they had gotten the shoes on their feet. This was not abnormal, of course, but there seemed to be even more people out than usual.
A large crowd had gathered in the main square of the town, apparently watching something on the large screens and displaying great interest in whatever the news might be. Cautiously, Lithuania made his way to the outskirts of the crowd, where he too could watch the broadcast. At first glance, it appeared to be an ordinary news report… But then, a new report began broadcasting, and Lithuania was transported back to a mere six days ago, when they had first begun to fear for their lives.
"The attempt to deal with certain persons dangerous to our government has been only partly successful," the newscaster reported, "Although a good number have been put out of the way, many are still at large. Citizens are cautioned to be wary of anyone resembling the following persons, and to report anyone suspicious to the authorities at the first possible opportunity.
Faces began flashing across the screen, and Lithuania knew nearly every one of the people pictured there. Both of the Italy brothers-no surprise, as they had fled the catastrophe almost before it began-, Japan, Germany, Canada, France… The list went on, but Lithuania saw none of the faces he had hoped desperately to see, although he did see himself and his companions staring back at him.
"No Estonia, no Latvia… Not even America… And no Poland either… My God, is anyone I knew still out there and alive?"
When the broadcast finally ended, returning to regular news, people began to wander away. However, Lithuania remained staring at the screen, almost hoping that there were a few names that had been left out.
"Please, please, tell me they're alive. Eduard and Raivis can't die… They're too young. Feliks can't be dead, Alfred can't be dead… They're not dead, are they? Please…"
"Hey, Mister?" said a child's voice behind him.
Lithuania turned, and saw a child watching him. It was a young girl-around Latvia's age, Lithuania thought-and she reminded him again of what he had failed to protect.
"Yes?" Lithuania asked, smiling at her.
"You look sad," the girl informed him, "Even when you smile. Why?"
"I'm looking for someone," Lithuania told her, "But I don't know where the people I want to find are, or even if they're alive."
"Hope you have better luck than me," the girl said, "I haven't seen my family, and I've been looking too. Is it your family you want to find?"
"My brothers," Lithuania said, "And my friends."
"How long you been missing them?"
"Only a little while," Lithuania sighed, "But it feels like a lifetime, not even knowing where they are."
"I see," the girl said, "Hope you find them, then."
"Same to you," Lithuania said, "Keep looking. I'm sure you'll find your family."
"Yeah, you too," the girl said, "Say, those soldiers seem a little interested in you…"
Lithuania glanced around, and located a group of soldiers standing a short distance away, watching him.
"So they do," he agreed, "I'd best be off before they convict me as a criminal, then."
"You're one of the people they want to kill, aren't you?" the girl whispered, "You look just like one of the men they showed up there."
"Run away," Lithuania said, not wanting to answer, and suddenly afraid for the girl's safety, "Believe me, little girl… You don't want to get mixed up in this."
He turned away, but stopped when the girl grabbed his sleeve, stopping him.
"There's a bakery three blocks from here," she whispered, "The man who owns it is nice, so if you're out looking for food… He won't turn you in to the police, and he will give you food."
"Thank you," Lithuania said, "I'll remember it."
The girl nodded, and then she was gone, her short, blonde hair flying in the wind.
"Please let her have better luck than I," Lithuania whispered, not really praying so much as simply begging, "She's just a little girl, and there are too many dead… Among humans, as well as nations… And there will always be more… Is it too much to ask that that one little girl find her family?"
He did not know why he cared, why he felt so desperate to see that girl reunited with her family. He only knew that he hated to see children suffer. And although he did not know the girl's name, he hoped desperately that she would have stroke of luck.
"My little brothers are dead," he whispered, not really knowing that it was true, not wanting to believe it, but beginning to feel reconciled to it, "Poland is dead. A-all my friends a-are dead, except a few who are s-still here with me. Let the little girl have the future that my friends won't... Please…"
Canada cried alone, silent and unnoticed even by France. He wondered vaguely if the other nation was as sad as he was about what had happened. He almost hoped that France was not affected, such was the pain that blonde boy felt now.
It hurt too much, lying there in the early hours of the morning, and thinking about the fact that for all he knew, England and America could be under torture or dead at this very moment.
"Why wasn't I taken?" Canada whispered, knowing that France would not hear him, "I-it's not like anyone would miss me…"
He began to sob quietly, his voice breaking as he thought of America, his brother, and of England, who had, from time to time, been kind to him.
"N-no one deserves this…" Canada whispered, "Least of all them… Why not me? W-why can't I… Why can't I help?"
He glanced over at France, who was lying asleep on the floor, and was relieved to see that the older nation was still asleep. Although he longed for comfort now, Canada did not want to take the risk of France seeing right through him when he awoke. And he also did not want the older man to worry. So he would not wake him.
"I would have gone with you, America," he whispered, "M-maybe I could have been smart enough to help you save England. I c-could have gone in alone, and they wouldn't even have seen me… Just once, maybe my invisibility would have been of some use… But… Now you're gone. A-America... England… Come home. I w-want you to be safe… I want… I want my brother back…"
"Mathieu," someone murmured, "You could not have stopped him. You understand zat, don't you?"
"P-please don't talk to me, France…" Canada whispered.
"You need to stop crying," France said softly, "Canada, you're smart… You know it wasn't your fault."
"I'm invisible," Canada said, "I probably could have used that to work in our favor."
"I would not risk your life on ze gamble of your invisibility," France said, "America and England would not want you to, either."
"Then you'll make me stay here?" Canada asked, "You won't let me go?"
France sighed, his pain evident in his blue eyes.
"I do not want to lose you, Mathieu," he said, "Perhaps it is selfish of me. But… You are ze only one left, and I promised…"
"What did you promise?" Canada asked.
"I promised England zat I would protect you and America," France said, "But… It seems I have already failed. I…should have protected America…and now he's probably…dead…"
Canada could only stare in silence at France, who was sobbing openly, his head in his hands.
"If you couldn't save him…" Canada said, "Then… How could anyone else? He's America, he's stubborn and he's…a bit of an idiot… He wouldn't listen to you or to me. It's not your fault, France…"
Canada leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the sobbing France.
"Why does it have to end like this? Is it going to get worse? Why can't I be useful… Why can't I be like America? Why can't I save someone? At least America tried…"
England hated not healing. He was so used to waking up in the morning with his injuries fully healed that it was terrifying to wake up and find himself still in pain.
It was even worse, however, when they came to take him away again. He knew it would be torture, knew it would hurt even more than it had before, and he saw in America's eyes that the boy also knew what was in store.
"Come on, Panem," America said, a pleading note in his voice, "There's no reason for you to hurt him!"
"There most certainly is," Panem said, smirking, "He's a criminal."
"We're not criminals!" America retorted, "We're the good guys!"
"America," England said, standing up, "Don't fight her. There's no reason to."
America stared at him desperately, and England thought that he saw a hint of tears in the boy's eyes.
"I'll be fine," he said, smiling at America, "I promise."
He knew immediately that it was a foolish promise, but he also knew that he would have to try to stay alive, for his brother's sake.
America let Panem take him away, and England did not particularly mind, for as long as America was in that cell, he was comparatively safe, and that was all that mattered. It was only when they arrived in what looked suspiciously like a mad scientist's lab that he started to feel slightly on edge.
"Would you mind telling me what you're going to do to me?" he asked, carefully to keep his voice cold.
"I can't tell you," Panem said, "That would take away the fun!"
She smiled at him, a frightening gesture.
"I will tell you, however, that it involves you lying down on that table."
"Lovely. I'm going to be experimented on."
His horror must have been reflected on his face, because, unexpectedly, Panem laughed.
"I'm not going to cut you open, if that's what you're afraid of," she said, "Just lie down already!"
England glared at her, his eyes narrowing.
"I won't get on that table until you tell me what you're going to do," he said.
"As you wish," Panem said carelessly, "I can always force you to get up there."
She nodded to her bodyguards, who had been standing behind England, probably waiting for this very moment. England tensed, vowing not to give in without a fight, and then bolted for the half-open door.
However, his small frame was a disadvantage to him now, as it meant that even the equally slight Panem could bowl him over simply because of her inhuman strength.
"Don't try it," Panem said, smiling sweetly down at the now-captured England, "You wouldn't leave America, even if you could get away."
England said nothing, not wanting to give the girl the satisfaction of knowing she was right. Even if he were fast enough to escape on his own, he would not leave America imprisoned there, alone.
Panem's guards were behind her now, and as she climbed off of England, they grabbed his arms, pulling him up onto his feet.
England struggled, slightly panicked, but he could do nothing to stop the guards from pulling him over to the table.
They slammed him down on the cold, metal table, and England gasped as his injured back met the hard surface.
One of the guards held him down, while the other fastened his arms and legs in restraints. It was then that England became absolutely certain that this was a torture session, for why else would they restrain him in such a way?
Once the guards moved away, England was able to see Panem again. The girl stood nearby, smiling, and flicking a lighter on and off.
"I have to say this isn't very violent," she commented, "But, you know what? You wouldn't be able to survive anything very violent, with your build and physical health. Someone like America, now… I could do almost anything to him, and he would be able to survive. You chose a far too vulnerable human form, England."
She smiled, flicking the lighter on again, and England knew, then, that she was going to do something that would involve burning him. How badly and for how long, he did not know, but he feared fire as he did few other things, and he began to struggle again, trying futilely to escape.
"What's the matter, England?" Panem asked, coming over to him, "Are you afraid?"
England cursed, still struggling, hating the way Panem smiled at him.
"Better not make too much fuss," the girl said, nodding toward a clear partition that separated this room from the next one over, "Look who's watching."
England looked over, and instantly stopped moving. America stood in the room opposite, his hands pressed to the clear wall. He was evidently shouting something, but England could not tell what, and, suddenly, he realized that this was a torture session meant not just for him, but for both of them.
"Of course. America absolutely must save everyone. If he can't do that, if he is forced to watch helplessly…"
"You'll drive him insane," England said, looking up at Panem, "You will destroy him if you make him watch. How can you do that to your brother?!"
"It's simple, really," Panem said.
She paused, and then, she grinned at England.
"I want to destroy him."
Panem flicked the lighter on, and then, slowly, agonizingly, she brought it down so that it was just above England's chest. For a moment, she paused, a maddened, thrilled light in her eyes.
Then England's world changed to one of pain and fire.
On the other side of the wall, America stood alone, screaming and begging, although by this time he had realized that no one could hear him.
"Stop it!" the boy screamed, kicking futilely at the wall that held him prisoner, "You'll kill him! He doesn't like fire!"
America had to wonder, then, how he knew that England did not like fire. But then, he remembered that when he was a small child, he had taken a burning stick from the fireplace and carried it around with him, pretending it was his weapon. England had found him quickly and, taking the stick from him, had hurled it back into the fireplace, his eyes reflecting an emotion America had seldom seen in his guardian before.
He realized now that England had been afraid of the flames, and although he did not know why, America knew that England would still be afraid.
He could see that same fear in the older nation's eyes as he looked through the window, and he feared what might happen if England were tortured in this way for very long.
"Panem!" America shrieked, "Leave my brother alone!"
His screams went unheard, and as the flames ate deeper into England's chest, America could only watch helplessly.
On the other side of the wall, Panem was laughing.
Yes, I do have an odd belief that England is afraid of fire. Do not ask why. I have no idea why I think that, it just feels...like he should be afraid of fire. I don't know why.
And... No Estonia and Latvia again this chapter... I'm sorry. They'll be back first thing next chapter. I can promise that.
(Also, having only one major antagonist does slow things down slightly, as Panem can only be in one place at a time. (I suppose I could just send the soldiers to do things, but what fun is that?) However, things are going to start moving along more quickly really soon. :) )
Now, I'm about to be pulled out the door bodily without posting this if I don't post it in the next two minutes, so I have to run! *runs off*
