Hello, everyone! I live! And I take forever with updates as always... *Hides* Sorry... But this chapter was pretty long to make up for it and hopefully it's interesting? And I'm working on everything else, I promise. It's just taking a while, what with being depressed and my heavy courseload and now I've added making my cosplay for C2E2 into the mix. But things will get updated. I haven't forgotten.
And I do love the reviews you leave me and the suggestions and I'm sorry I haven't actually responded to them personally because I'm just very pressed for time, but I want to thank you guys so much for them~ :3
Dmitri was the first one awake. Early mornings were nothing new for the Russian: they were drilled into him from the very beginning, as sleeping late was wasting valuable time. He rose at about the same time the sun did every morning, using the down-time to hone his skill. Dmitri always found himself in the training room before he would even consider breakfast or coffee and today was no exception.
After a few minutes of setting up today's targets appropriately, Dmitri pulled out his favourite set of throwing knives, running his finger over the cool blade. It had been some time since they saw proper use; he had been favouring pistols and other guns as of late, neglecting one of his favourite weapons. Guns were effective, but no real skill was required to use them. Aim and shoot. Anybody could do that. Sure, the recoil was an important factor, but it wasn't something to worry about in smaller, less powerful weapons.
But knives, knives were different. They required skill to throw, precision when aiming for a certain spot on a target. It was all about the stance, the wrist, the way you drew in a breath and held yourself… They were so much more personal, knives. They didn't work nearly as quickly as a well-placed gunshot at times, but sometimes that was exactly what you needed…
The first knife left Dmitri's hand, spinning once or twice in the air before sailing towards the target, the point burying itself dead centre. A smirk worked its way across his lips as he positioned the next blade between two fingers, eying the distant target. Dmitri felt at peace during something as carefree as target practice, not a care in the world.
"You're in here again?"
Dmitri didn't jump as the voice carried through the quiet room, the knife sailing straight to the target. "What are you doing down here, Leon?" He didn't have to turn to recognise that accent.
"Same as you; early morning. Don't you ever just relax and read the paper or something?"
"What a waste of time. We'll be making history how we want it soon enough anyway, so why should I bother with that?" he scoffed, glancing over his shoulder. "So you decided to bother me?" he demanded with a flick of the wrist.
Leon didn't flinch as the blade whizzed past his face, displacing some of his hair and burying itself in the doorframe beside him. "Really now? Throwing a tantrum because I interrupted you? Don't you get tired of acting like a child, Dmitri?"
Dmitri shrugged, standing straight and walking to retrieve the blade. "Damn. Looks like I missed. A shame."
Leon walked toward the door as Dmitri went off to collect the other two blades, rolling his eyes. "You think you can join me for a cup of tea or will you shoot the kettle for whistling?"
"Мне все равно," he said, brushing past him. "Whatever you want."
They shared a silent yet civil morning tea, Leon sipping lightly at his while Dmitri loaded his black tea with milk. "So what do you plan to do?" Dmitri mumbled suddenly around his mug.
"Hm? You mean when we find them?"
"Da," he huffed. "What else could I have meant?"
Leon raised an eyebrow at the unexpected question. Talking about themselves and their motives was something everybody steered clear of, Dmitri especially. He let on only what he wanted you to know and was incredibly tight-lipped about everything else. The question came as more than a surprise to the Englishman and he stared at Dmitri in silence for a few moments, trying to ascertain if he was being serious or not. "Getting soft on me, Dmitri? Afraid I'll leave you and we'll never speak again?" Leon figured he'd test the waters before answering.
Dmitri made a face. "Personally I don't care what you do; I just asked out of curiosity. Answer or don't, it doesn't make a difference to me."
"Then I don't know. I have a few ideas in mind, but I have to meet this 'England' before I figure out the best course of action."
"When I find Russia, the two of us are going to have a nice long talk." A wicked grin spread out over his face. "And there'll be no getting out of it." Leon noticed how his accent got thicker as he spoke of darker things, almost as if he would slip back into his mother tongue at any moment. Could this 'Russia' speak English as well?
"So your motives are personal," Leon said simply, setting his mug down.
"My motives are none of your business." And there it was. That returning sense of normalcy was such a comforting feeling. "Don't make it sound like yours aren't either." Leon watched as Dmitri dropped the mug in the sink, disappearing to do whatever it was the Russian did in his spare time.
A few hours passed before everyone awoke, getting breakfast at all hours of the morning. There was little interaction between the men, save for any food requests. One man inquired about Dmitri's whereabouts, and as if on cue, the Russian strode into the kitchen, his cheeks dusted a light pink. Gustav groaned. "You can't even control yourself to not drink this early in the morning? Gott, what is wrong with you?"
Dmitri shot back an icy glare. "While you were all sitting on your asses and wasting time, I decided to get a little workout in. You could use one." He grabbed a glass of water and downed it with a sigh.
"And you need to learn to bite that tongue of yours. The effectiveness of your regime really does startle me."
"I can take you all down before you would even know what hit you, so don't question my skills." Dmitri snatched up a water bottle.
"That's enough," came the boss' voice, and everybody promptly shut up. "You all come from different backgrounds, but is it necessary to jump down each other's throats at every possible chance? Get over yourselves." A dull chorus of agreements filled the room and they soon moved into the 'briefing room,' the world map lit up once again and commanding attention.
All eyes stared intensively at the map, the room in total silence. Everybody could sense the urgency they were operating under. The World Summit was happening soon. Very soon, and the longer they waited, the tighter security would get around the White House and in Washington D.C. as a whole. Each day they didn't find "America" was that much more pressure on their shoulders.
America was their first and main target. If they had him/her, they could easily take the rest of the Nations. The plan was simple: use Callie and get her to reveal the person's identity. She may have worked for the government, but she was no spy, no soldier. She wasn't immune to the effects of interrogation or torture if it came to that. Once she gave up the information, America would tell them where the rest of them were. Nation or not, they all knew plenty of ways to get somebody to talk, each man more than willing to try it out.
The same man who gave the instructions during the last meeting rose to speak again, face once again obscured by the darkness. Three out of the four pairs of eyes turned to face him immediately, everybody knowing who the odd one out was. He cleared his throat loudly and did so a second time until the Russian fixed his eyes on him. "Sorry," he muttered as a courtesy despite not really meaning it, snatching up his water bottle and downing the rest of it.
"I am moving up the time we have to take Callie and find America." Not a single person's expression changed, but they were all surprised to hear the change in plan. Those dark eyes sparkled as he sensed the change in the atmosphere, not needing light to figure out what was going through their heads. Oh, how he loved it. "As you know, the World Summit draws nearer with each passing day. I want Callie here and America found and captured before that meeting."
"Зачем?" Dmitri's voice rang out and all eyes were on him. "What good will that do?"
"If we take America before the World Summit meeting, what does that mean?" Silence. "It means that America will not be able to attend this meeting. And if America doesn't attend the very meeting they're hosting and word gets out, then fear will be struck into the hearts of the governments of the world and Nations alike. They will know they're being targeted and they will know of us."
Dmitri grinned widely. "Oh, I see. Making our presence known in a big way. I like this plan."
"Yes, exactly. I want you two," he pointed at the brunet at the edge of the table and Dmitri "to bug her house before she returns home. I want eyes and ears; no surprises. If she returns home while you're there, throw the plan out the window and grab her."
"And if that Alfred kid is there?"
"He goes too."
Dmitri shot up out of his chair, eager to get into her house and start wiring the place up. His partner, a hazel eyed Frenchman by birth but has many times switched sides, nodded and followed him out. They were to have everything set up and ready to go by the close of business today and he was itching to see what the inside of her place looked like. It could be filled with valuable clues or delicious blackmail he could take full advantage of later. Whatever could make her squirm and talk was fine by him. Boundaries were always blurred in his line of work and lines were made to be crossed. He couldn't keep the evil smirk off his face; surveillance was one of the Russian's favourite things and something he was quite good at. He spied for his home country many a time, always delivering astounding results.
This was to be no exception.
"I hope you're good at this, Julien."
"Guess we'll find out."
The two men grabbed black backpacks and headed into the equipment room. The room was alive with lights and colours; computers flashing every which way in a variety of different languages. There was never darkness in the room; something was always flashing, hard at work. It was the room that held all the important tools for espionage. They had the latest breakthroughs in technology at their disposal, different items from different countries brought forward by the members of the group. Some stolen, some offered willingly, but the members weren't too picky about how they were acquired as long as they were fully operational. Julien pulled open a drawer that contained micro cameras and listening devices, filling their backpacks with as much equipment as they would need. Inside sat cameras disguised as common household items—pens, picture frames, plants, you name it—microphones so small they were nearly invisible, and other recording devices.
Julien didn't care for seeing Callie's place in the slightest, but he could tell Dmitri was looking forward to it. He never stayed in one place for too long, so he never learned to grow attached to things like a place of residence. For all the things the Russian had said about himself and his past adventures, he gave away much more with his expressions than he realised. Unless it was all intentional, then that was another story. It would come as no surprise to find that it was all part of a clever trick, the Russian in full control of every little thing.
When he was asked about all the strange looks and smiles, he said, as if it was the most obvious thing ever, that he wanted to learn about the girl. They knew what they knew from reading her files and from watching her—she was unimpressive as far as Dmitri was concerned: too scared and weak to ever be a threat—but he was curious just as to who Callie Johnson was. The state of her home, her belongings, they would all reveal things about the girl.
"Hurry up or I'll leave without you," Julien said, already halfway out the door.
It was about a half an hour drive to Callie's house, but the traffic delayed them by about fifteen minutes. Dmitri had his head out the window, shouting Russian curses at the drivers ahead, warning them to move or he'd make them move. When his threats fell on deaf ears, he continued insulting them in Russian until they hit clear roads.
They had the lock picked in a matter of moments, making sure the coast was clear as they headed inside. Dmitri took in the sight of the living room: the couches, the table, the blankets, and there were even a couple empty take-out containers on the floor just under the table, raising an eyebrow in thought. "Are you going to stand there gawking or are you going to help me?" Julien was already pulling items out of his bag, setting them on the couch. "This place is smaller than I imagined. I originally assumed she would live in a flat or even a two-story house, working for her government and all, but it appears I was mistaken. There's only one floor so it shouldn't take too long, but with the small spaces to work with, we have to make sure everything is set up properly. It's mid-afternoon already; who knows when Callie will be back? Best be quick." Julien looked around the living room, sizing up the place. "We need good vantage points and have to make sure that the sound quality is clear from each microphone. You take the kitchen."
"Fine," he huffed out, pulling his bag off his shoulder. Just as he took a step forward, a series of loud barks could be heard from a nearby room and the Russian froze where he stood, reaching into his pocket. Julien glanced over his shoulder as he heard the dog running down the hall, blinking as Dmitri flipped a silver blade open.
"Non," he hissed, a disapproving glare on his face. "We are to leave no trace of our presence and I'm not letting you kill the dog."
Ciel bolted into the room, growling and barking fiercely at the two strangers. Her bright white teeth were bared, lips turned up in a snarl. "It'll be quick and I'll dispose of the body. She'll think the dog ran away and can get a new one."
"How about I stab you with that knife and tell them back at base you ran away? Come here, dog…" Ciel snapped at Julien as he got closer, who was just quick enough to avoid those jaws. He grabbed her by the collar and she thrashed and snapped in his grip, trying to latch onto his arm, clothes, anything, but he kept just out of reach the entire time. Dmitri opened the door as Julien tossed Ciel out onto the grass. "Leave us be, dog." The door was slammed shut and Ciel scratched at it for a minute, barking loudly. She took off running when she realised getting back in was futile, following Callie's scent.
Callie felt good as she got into work the next day. Better than she had in a while, in fact. Despite sleeping on the couch, it turned out to be one of the most relaxing night's sleeps she had in a while. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to do it a few more times. Or maybe it was because of… She shook her head, feeling her cheeks heat up. No, of course not!
She was to be meeting Alfred in the conference room today, however she wasn't expecting to see Matthew there alongside him. The older brother was helping set everything up for the rapidly approaching meeting; it was too much work for even Alfred to do alone. She blinked as she noticed the other figure in the room, dressed in a dark suit as usual, and fixed her posture, standing as straight as she possibly could. The President was in there as well and Callie didn't want to look unprofessional in front of him. Alfred glanced over his shoulder, smiling when he saw her in the doorway. "Good morning!" Both Matt and the President turned to look at her.
"Wow…" she breathed out, taking all their hard work in.
Callie didn't think it was possible, but the already grand room managed to look even bigger. Every country's flag was proudly displayed around the room; the fact they all fit side-by-side was an amazing feat in itself. Once he and Matt hung the final flag—which just so happened to be Alfred's—Al walked up to Callie, brushing stray bangs out of his eyes. "Awesome, right? The flags always take the longest to put up; there are so many of them and they've always got to go in a certain order. It's usually tradition for the host country to hang their flag last, so that's what we were doing." He led her over toward some of the empty seats, showing off the placecards. "Mattie set up placecards for all the Nations to sit; he was really careful where he sat everyone. If two Nations who didn't get along sat next to each other, like Greece and Turkey, for example, things would get really bad. He's surprisingly good at that; always paying attention to those kinds of things. And then we had to make sure that two extremely friendly Nations weren't sitting next to each other because then they wouldn't bother paying attention."
"And would be very bad indeed," the President said, looking at Alfred. "We want them to reach understandings, not fight or waste time. After all, the World Summit meeting is a meeting just for the Nations themselves. Usually meetings between countries happen between the Nation and their boss, but we aren't present during this meeting. There will always be some kind of understanding they can reach that we as normal humans can never understand." He smiled. "It's best to let them resolve things on their own."
Alfred was waved over and he and his boss exchanged some private words, the former nodding occasionally. The President seemed more formal today. He carried an air of seriousness about him and his dark suit looked nearly perfect. His hair seemed to grey even more in the past few days; it must have been hard to be the leader of the host country for a World Summit. The bags under his dark eyes showed just how tired he was, yet that powerfully intimidating all-knowing air had never left him.
"Don't worry, sir. We'll have everything taken care of, Matt and Callie and I. The meeting will go off without a hitch; I promise." The American half-smiled.
"Good luck to the three of you. I will be checking in on your progress periodically."
"Thank you, Mr. President," Callie said with a smile, nervously smoothing the imaginary wrinkles in her skirt. "We'll do our best."
"Well, I won't keep you any longer. I know you still have quite a bit to do." The three took their cue to leave, the door slamming shut behind Alfred, the last one out.
Ever since she learned the truth about Alfred, the world seemed so much smaller. She didn't realise it until she looked at the conference room and saw all those nametags, the flags lined up side-by-side… Countries seemed more alive and connected than they did when she heard about their history or looked at a world map. It wasn't just a landmass; there was a person to go with it. A face, a name, a painful scar and memory… Did Nations ever forget parts of their history? Callie pondered that for a moment. It would be terrible if they did… And what about in the cases where the government tried to cover things up? Did they have the Nation's permission or were they forced to go along with it?
Even the White House, the most iconic building in DC seemed to be small, losing its importance in the presence of Alfred Jones. The two were nothing without each other; she was starting to realise that. "What else is there to do?" Callie asked, looking at the twin brothers.
"Hm. We've got the Nations, the room set up—thanks again, Matt!—security is taken care of, the main topics have been decided and announced... I think we're as prepared as we need to be." Alfred pushed Texas up the bridge of his nose.
"The meeting is in just a few days," Matt reminded them. "Perhaps we should bring some snacks for everyone. You know how less than halfway into the meeting someone—Italy especially—wants to eat something. Let's pick up a few little things."
"Hey, great idea! There's this place not too far from here that has lots of international stuff!" Callie blinked. She had never heard of a store like that before…
Callie enjoyed the walk to the store. The atmosphere was light and airy as the brothers exchanged words, laughing lightly. His laugh was so carefree and happy that whenever he laughed, Callie wanted to laugh alongside him, even if she didn't follow exactly what they were talking about. Alfred loved to talk of old parties with the other Nations, earning an occasional blush from Matt as his eyes shot to Callie, mumbling in French something that neither could understand. She giggled every time he did that, which was quite often.
Matt talked about his day out with Russia, much to Al's horror. Alfred made a face every time Russia's name came up and looked like he would faint every time Matt mentioned how fun it was. Callie didn't see what the big deal was at all. The two went ice-skating that had turned into a violent ice hockey match between them—Matt assured this was a common thing between them as they both enjoyed facing the other on the ice—and then went to dinner where they had light conversation and a few drinks. Matt, in a brazen display that was quite unlike him, had challenged Ivan to a drinking contest. Not many people knew that the Canadian could hold his liquor fairly well.
"Whoa, doggy! Where are you going?!" The trio looked over as a loud voice came from down the block.
"Honestly, the nerve of some people, letting their dogs run wild…" A feminine giggle followed the two voices and Callie tilted her head at the commotion.
"Hey Al, isn't that…?" Matt asked. Alfred squinted to get a better look at the distant figures.
"I think so… I didn't think we'd run into them!"
"Who are they?" Callie didn't take her eyes away from the group.
"Hey! Goldie, stop! Heel! Just what…? What's up with you?!" Callie froze. This person sounded kind of like Germany and if it was him, he sounded mad and Callie didn't want to be anywhere near that. She shrunk back slightly, moving closer to Al.
Next thing Callie knew, she was being jumped on by a fairly large golden retriever. Her back hit the pavement and she groaned in pain, seeing stars momentarily as the dog began licking her face.
"Hey!" the German-accented voice shouted loudly and suddenly the weight was lifted from Callie's chest. The dog barked frantically as it was picked up, staring at Callie and trying to wiggle free. "This mutt just came out of nowhere and we've been chasing it for blocks!"
"You mean you've been chasing it for blocks. We've been getting dragged along," said another man with an accent that was too stuffy to have belonged to the German.
"Are you alright?" Asked a female voice and Callie sat up straight to see a hand extended toward her. The owner of the hand was a very beautiful brown haired woman and Callie accepted the help thankfully, nodding.
"Y-Yeah… Thank you, miss…?"
"Elizaveta," she said with a smile.
"Callie," she replied softly, smiling back. Callie looked over to the struggling albino as a few German curses were muttered and her eyes widened. "Ciel!"
Ciel wiggled even more in the albino's grip, barking and howling. "Hey, mutt! Enough! You already tackled the lady; what else do you want? I'm usually so good with dogs, but this one in particular…"
Callie's eyes widened. "Wait, please let her go! That's my dog!"
All eyes were on Callie. The albino blinked in surprise, giving her a look. "This is your dog? I guess that explains why she was so desperate to find you. She could use some more training, though… You're welcome, by the way," he added as he set Ciel down.
Callie blinked and looked down. "O-Oh, I'm sorry… Thanks…" Ciel trotted over to her owner, barking and hitting her leg with a paw until she was given attention.
Matt hit him in the shoulder. "Be nice, Gil."
"Yeah, dude. Just because you and Germany train your dogs to where it's just ridiculous, doesn't mean all dogs have to be like that. Ciel's a great dog!" Alfred said with a smile.
"Great?" scoffed Gil. "What would be great was if this dog listened to what I said. Or brought me a beer. Yeah, now that would be pretty awesome."
Alfred walked over to Callie. "Don't mind Prussia. He's not a bad guy. You just met Hungary and the one with the glasses who looks like someone shoved a stick up his ass is Austria."
Callie blinked, looking to where Matt and Gil were talking. "Did you say Prussia…? As in the old Teutonic Knights, former great empire Prussia?"
Alfred stared at her. "Uh… Yes?"
"But Prussia…and…what…?" Callie nervously walked towards the albino, biting her lip. She had to talk to him; this was an opportunity she didn't want to let pass her by. Hopefully he'd be willing to talk to her… "Uhm… Mr. Prussia? Sir?"
"That's Mr. Awesome to you, girl," he said as he turned to face her. "Wait, what did you just call me?"
Prussia looked to Austria and Hungary who were talking to Al in shock about his casual reveal of their Nation identities. Callie shrunk back. "I-I'm sorry! What would you rather I call you…?"
Prussia crossed his arms, ruby eyes glinting dangerously. "First tell me why you called me 'Prussia.'"
"A-Alfred told me…" Prussia's gaze hardened as he glared at the American. "I'm sorry! I just wanted to ask you about what it was like when you were a great empire…"
Prussia grinned devilishly. "So you want to hear about the time when I kicked everyone's ass, do you?" Callie blinked and stared up at the taller man. He wasn't mad? "Everyone knew the name of the great Prussia! Gilbert Beilschmidt, girl, and don't forget it!"
Austria sighed, fixing his glasses. "Great, now you've got him started and he won't shut up. You were annoying as a kid!"
"I think you mean awesome," Prussia countered with a grin. "Right, Eliza?"
Hungary giggled. "Yes, you giving me your crotch cloth all those years ago was the most awesome moment ever." Callie blinked as Prussia spluttered.
"Y-You were the one who thought you were a boy! I didn't know! Boobs aren't muscles, Eliza," he countered with a smirk. "And what was that I seem to recall about a certain vital region growing in later in life?"
Hungary produced her frying pan out of what seemed like thin air to Callie, holding it threateningly. "Come here so I can wipe that smirk off your face, Gil." Hungary's voice had gotten much more dangerous. Callie could have sworn she heard Prussia yelp and retreated closer to Austria.
"Are…are they always like this…?"
Austria crossed his arms. "No amount of time will change that one. They've had a somewhat friendly rivalry for as long as I can remember."
"O-Oh… I'm Callie Johnson; nice to meet you. Alfred said that you were Austria…?"
"That's right. Roderich Edelstein. A pleasure." Austria held his hand out and the two shook briefly before a small smirk played out over the Austrian's lips. "Prussia's going to have no chance against Hungary when she's serious."
"What do you mean…?"
"He's asking to get a frying pan to the head. He deserves it for riling her up."
Callie screamed and jumped as the frying pan came crashing down on Gil's head. The sound seemed to echo into the distance and it sounded like a hit that could've knocked even the strongest man out, yet Prussia was still standing, rubbing his head and pouting. They really were incredibly strong… She cringed at the thought of being in Prussia's position, lying crumpled on the ground after just the one hit…
"Let me ask you something though, kid." Prussia had suddenly gone serious, catching Callie off-guard. She snapped out of her thoughts and looked directly at him. "You might have heard about what I did when I was still a great nation, but you're really wanting to hear about how I'm still around, aren't you?"
Callie froze, grey eyes widening. "I… N-No, that's not it…!" While it was true that she was curious as to how the representative of a former great empire could still be alive in front of her, that wasn't the only thing she wanted to ask him about. "I-I really did want to know…"
"Well let me tell you it hurts, girl." Callie just stared at the albino, not sure if she should be saying anything. "One minute you're on top of the world and the next you're a damn memory. Barely. And then when you fall, you're hanging somewhere inbetween all that. People are what keep us alive and if they start to forget, part of you starts to forget, but you can never forget it all. Not really, anyway." Callie shrunk back, holding her hands behind her back nervously.
"My bruder is probably the reason I'm still hanging around now. 'Prussia' officially ceased to exist, but I became the Eastern part of Germany. What used to be Konigsberg was taken over by that Russian son of a bitch, turned into Russian territory, and then he built that fucking wall to separate us!" Fire burned in Gil's eyes. "I'm not even half of what I once was."
"I-I'm sorry…" Callie said softly, looking down. "I can't imagine what any of that was like…"
"No, you can't," he shot back quickly. "So why are you involving yourself with something you can't understand?"
"Because I want to try!" she shouted back, meeting his eyes again. "Maybe you've all never had the chance to talk to someone like this…and I want to be able to help somehow… Maybe I can't understand because I'm only human, but that doesn't mean I don't care! I'm just me and the most I can really offer is to keep your secret, but I still want to try…"
Prussia blinked and chuckled a bit. "You've got guts for such a timorous little girl. But I just don't trust humans the same way."
"W-Why? Because of everything that happened…?"
"The people that once lived under me forgot about me. It's because of them that the dissolution came about and I faded away into just a name in the history textbooks. Does the date February 25th, 1947 mean anything to you?" Callie shook her head slowly, feeling embarrassed.
"Not that I can remember at the moment…" she whispered.
"Didn't think so. How about Law No. 46? That sounding familiar yet? Well that treaty and the group of Allied representatives are the reason that I stopped existing. That damned piece of paper is what got rid of me for good! The Allies blamed me and my people for 'corrupting' Germany and causing them to be more militant. Why did the Nazis exist? Because of Prussia, obviously! Because to them, Prussia was nothing more than a place where people held power in a higher position over legal rights, where we were intolerant and militant. So it's only natural that Germany, being so close to Prussia, would be affected by that and spark up World War II, right?
They blamed my culture for laying the foundation for dictatorships and setting up the loss of democracy in Germany! Ha! The bastards were just high after winning the war and decided to take it out on whatever they could get their hands on. I can't forgive them for that. If they just opened their eyes, they'd see that the Nazis weren't my fault and the Nazi rule and Prussian rule were two very different things, but they weren't willing to look that far.
And on top of that, after they abolished Prussia, my people, the Prussian-Germans were kicked out and forced to find somewhere else to go! But you know what they said? It was necessary to abolish the Prussian state at the end of the war. Churchill himself said that Germany's core was Prussia and there, the source."
His words were filled with both anger and fervour, voice rising as he reached parts of the story that hit him harder than others. Callie blinked. She had known about the dissolution of Prussia, but not to such an extent. "I'm sorry… I didn't know all that… And I know I can't change what they did, but…" She fought to keep her eyes up and on the man instead of looking down. "Maybe I can show you that we're not all bad?"
"You can't change how I feel about them. What they did to me and my people because they were on-high from their victory… That's something I can't forgive. All humans are the same way; they're power-hungry and corrupt at their very core. They've already taken my name and my land; all that's left is for me to disappear myself."
Callie nodded a little and looked down, apologising again. Alfred walked over to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, looking at Gil. "That's pretty harsh. It was war, that's all. They were doing what they thought would be best in the long run."
"If you had lost the war and America had been broken up into little pieces and redistributed, blamed, or stripped of its name entirely, I doubt you'd be saying that very same thing. When have you ever been in that situation? You haven't." Alfred gave him a look.
Hungary walked over and shook her head. "Is holding a grudge against the group that made the law still worth it? It's in the past and we just have to look to tomorrow. You don't have to be so hard on the girl."
"No… He's right…" All eyes were on Callie. "Maybe we should do more to show that we're not all the same. To prove that we can learn from past mistakes and that not all history has to be a repeated cycle. That's what I'm going to try to do!"
"I doubt you can change my mind, but whatever. If you want to try, go right ahead." Prussia sighed and waved his hand. "It's just not the same anymore."
Callie hung her head as Prussia turned and started walking away. Alfred squeezed her shoulder and pulled her in for a hug she didn't return; instead she watched the floor. "Don't mind Gil. He still hasn't gotten over it. It's not your fault, so don't take it personally." Hungary's voice was gentle.
Austria shrugged. "Nations can never really hate humans. It's not possible. But then again, he's not much of a Nation anymore, is he?"
"Roderich!" Hungary gasped.
"Am I wrong? Anyway, as much as I'd like to watch him sulk for a while, we're the ones who are going to have to deal with it later, so we should go find him now. America, uh…" Austria glanced at Matt for a moment, having difficulty remembering just who he was. "Oh, Canada. We'll see you at the meeting. A pleasure again, Callie."
Hungary and Austria left to go chase after Gil, leaving the three of them alone again. Matt sighed and shook his head. "Gil… I didn't know you felt that way…" Matt seemed visibly bothered by the realisation. Callie finally met Alfred's eyes, trying and failing to hide how much his words got to her. She might not have known Prussia personally or vice-versa, but she couldn't help feeling like she had failed in some way. If there was anything she could do to change his outlook on humans, she wanted to find it. For his sake.
"You okay?" Callie nodded a little.
"I'm fine… Or, at least, I'll be okay. Thanks, Al…" She forced a small smile.
"Don't forget you have me and Matt who like you, okay?"
"I-I won't. I just don't want him to be like that with everybody just because of that… I can't imagine in my wildest dreams what it's like to be a Nation one day and not the next, but I want to try and help him. Even if he hates me." Alfred smiled a little as the determined spark returned to her eyes. He really did like when she looked so set in her resolve. So…confident.
"I'll talk to him soon," Matt said.
Alfred took Callie's hand and smiled brightly, trying to cheer her up more. "We should get to the store before it closes and we lose our chance to buy the snacks!"
It was dark when Callie finally returned home, Ciel at her side. The golden was happily holding a bag of snacks Alfred bought for them in her mouth, tail wagging as her owner fished the keys out of her pocket. The bottom lock was the only lock that clicked open; there was no response from the top when she tried her key. She always locked the top lock and the fact that it hadn't been should have alarmed her, but she was too tired to really care. She must have forgotten in her rush to get to work; these last few days had been a fast-paced haze of work and Alfred and Nations.
Her hand fumbled for the light switch, but for the life of her, she just couldn't find the right spot. When the light finally clicked on, the sight of her living room sent a shiver down her spine. Ciel growled and started to bark as the lights turned on.
"Ciel, quiet; you'll wake the neighbours…" She took the bag from Ciel and stroked her head.
Yawning now, Callie walked into the kitchen. It was mostly dark, aside from the light the microwave gave off. She had it set to turn on when the sun went down so it wouldn't be pitch black. It provided enough light to let her see where everything was, but that was it. The dark countertops looked as if they could swallow a person whole; the island alone seemed like it would suck Callie in if she touched it. But she wasn't afraid as she ran her fingers over the sleek surface. Something clattered to the floor, making Callie jump.
It was a...screwdriver? She turned the object around in her hand until the Phillips head was pointed straight at her face. A cold air settled in the room, making each breath she drew in painful. She set the tool down. She must have forgotten needing to fix something; that was why the screwdriver was there. No big deal. She was tired, psyching herself out over nothing.
She set the bag down, ready to go to bed until the feeling of someone breathing down her neck froze her where she stood.
So I had no idea how to write the Frying Pangle, really, but I gave it my best. Apologies if they all seem OOC.