"The scene today was utter chaos as fighting broke out in northern Poland in the Masurian Lake District. While some of the refugees have been evacuated from the area by authorities there are still many who are unaccounted for and have no doubt become caught in the sudden outbreak of fighting as what is now being called a terrorist cell has started fighting openly with the Polish military. The group - calling themselves "Heavens Sword" has also claimed responsibility for the assassination attempt on many top officials of the Polish government that was thwarted by German Special Forces late last night. Since fighting began there have been several confirmed casualties. According to the military the forces are acting with complete disregard to the civilian population. Although in a strange twist to this story, a second unidentified group has actually aided in the evacuation of those affected by the fighting and has also reportedly been seen in skirmishes with 'Heavens Sword' - leading to some speculation that it may be some form of civilian resistance movement. However; in the latest statement, officials have declared to do everything within their power to bring what they have called; "outlaws and rebels" to order - including both factions- as wanted criminals."

The door flew open, the cold winter night belching forth two ice-covered souls. A man raced to the door with a blanket in arm, wrapping a dark haired man in a worn leather coat as another one of his companions draped a red-eyed youth in a thick wool throw. Gjord leaned down a bit, trying to peer into Alders face as the man shivered and sputtered from the biting cold.

"Damn! I forgot about these winters! That came out of nowhere!" Gilbert exclaimed, stomping around the entryway in an attempt to warm himself - the drab draped wool flapping with his arms. There was a welcome heat to the house and the smell of the wood lingered pleasantly in his nose. "You gonna be alright over there, kid?"

Adler snorted before it turned into a sneeze. "Yeah...I'll be fine once my bones thaw out. Besides, it's nothing I haven't been through before."

"Pfft. Yeah. Yeah. You're mister tough guy."

"Glad to hear you agree."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. Normally if someone was wise-cracking then there wasn't much to worry about. Granted, some people could fool you like that. Gjord moved Adler away from the frosty nation trying to swipe hot chocolate from the nearest person to him. Having gained his full attention, the Swedish man looked over his leader with worried brown eyes. "Y're soaked."

"About the car...the windows are gone now."

The look on the Swedes' face struck Adler as hysterical. He'd laugh it were actually funny. Who knows, he might laugh anyway...

"What happ'nd?" Gjord spoke slowly, as if he didn't really know if he wanted to know. Gilbert supplied the answer with a growl, throwing the blanket on a couch now that he was sufficiently warm. To his surprise the cold actually hadn't affected him much this time.

"Attack helicopter. Those things are a bitch to get rid of by the way - especially when you're outrunning one in an old Mazda."

"Call it a late Christmas miracle." Adler answered wryly, running a hand through his tousled black hair. "I thought they were going to wipe us out for sure." With that the man sighed, letting his hand fall limply as a serious expression crossed his face."Gjord. I need an update."

"You need 't sit." The man ordered, pulling his commander over to a chair like a doting mother. After pushing him down into the plush padding amid a wealth of protests, Gjord pulled up a wooden chair nearby - his action followed by several of the men that Gilbert was just now starting to notice. Some of them he'd seen back at the other safe-house.

Not that it's safe anymore.

As Gjord began relaying the day's events Gilbert took a seat of his own, lost in thought.

It HAD been one hell of a day already.

One day. Really? That was it?

Just that morning he had left the compound with Adler. It had been dark - the dead of night. Then on the way he'd read all that nonsense about MK-ULTRA, stopped a world meeting in it's tracks, and ended up being chased by a military chopper out to catch the guy who might well become his next boss...if he even managed to stay alive that long.

Gilbert sighed, scratching the top of his head. There was something cold and -

"OH SHIT! GILBIRD!"

He hurdled at least a couch, a trash can, and an invalid while trying to get to the fireside to warm his bird. As he cradled the small canary yellow creature he rubbed it gently, trying to get some life into it and flinching when the frost covered golden down made an unnerving crinkling noise.

"Come on now...breathe buddy...stay with me..."

"Here, wrap him in this and keep him warm. He should come back soon."

Gilbert took the cloth from Adler, staring in wide-eyed wonder. The man surely had more important things than to care for a sick bird. So why was he over here trying to get the little thing heated up? It wasn't like he knew what the bird was after all.

Hell, even Gilbert didn't know what Gil-bird really was. He'd just sort of showed up one day and never left.

Having done his part, Adler returned to his seat and allowed Gjord to finish his story. Despite several glances in Gilbert's direction he managed to complete his report with little delay. Upon finishing there was a silence. It was a quiet of expectation; this group of men - and women now that Gilbert took a good look at the faces - who were waiting to see what path the future would take. Their leader sat with his head in his hands, pulling at the dark locks.

"So... they'll turn this battle into a bloodbath. Damn it." Adler growled, biting at his lip. "What the hell have we turned loose..."

"We can't let 'm. They have'ta be stoppd." His second in command stated resolutely.

"I know! But we can't get involved without being arrested at this point and we can't protect people from a jail-cell!" The man sighed, amber hued eyes frustrated. "No...there's too much to do."

A man in torn khaki's and a smudged green sweater to his left cleared his throat, glancing hesitantly before Adler motioned for him to speak.

"Sir. So...is our mission changing?" He asked. Gilbert had to wonder how young the guy was - he seemed even younger than the 'chief' and that guy couldn't be older than mid-twenties!

God...there are kids fighting in this thing...

Gil-bird gave a weak chirp as his blood warmed, de-frosting his stiff body. His feathers had thawed quite a bit and fluffed readily with the slightest touch.

"Hey there little guy." The former nation cooed softly. "Missed you there."

"Our mission has changed."

The albino man turned his head quickly to look at the group - all eyes focused on the man in the center in his worn through brown trench-coat and his threadbare sweater. A man who looked like he hadn't slept in months or eaten in days. Still, he looked as calm and determined as Gilbert had ever seen him.

"Yes. There's no way we can think of establishment as long as Heavens Sword remains intact. We know what they are capable of." He paused a moment to catch everyone's gaze, passing information through the severe look. After the momentary quiet his voice dropped to a warning tone.

"They will stop at nothing to re-instate Prussia as a new militaristic, 'Aryan' nation. And they will destroy anything that tries to stop them - including the people of this nation. No. Especially the people of this nation. That is unacceptable! And I am absolutely positive that this is not what our nation would want." At this, the mans eyes flicked to his right. It was only a second, but enough time to catch golden eyes with crimson and confirm that they understood one another completely.

Standing, Adler made sure he had his soldier's attention. "Therefore; our mission has changed. Our goal at this moment is no longer establishment. Our task is to live up to our name - Heavens Shield. We will place ourselves on the front lines of this conflict. We will bear the brunt of our brother's wrath - so that the people of this country may not feel it. We will feel their sword - their bite. These people should not suffer for our goals. Since it is through our...my neglect that we have come to this."

At this, Adler's voice grew softer. "I'm sorry for that. If you choose to walk away from this battle, one you didn't sign up for feel free to go."

"And be a cowardly dog that lets civilians die for some 'noble war'?" The man to Adler's left exclaimed, gray eyes flashing. "Hell no!"

The General gave a wry snort, a smile creeping onto his face. "Now that we've heard from Volker, let's let everyone else have a go."

The group laughed. Gilbert smiled.

There were voices all around expressing their support. Gilbert thought he might have seen one or two slip away in the commotion - keeping a low and quiet profile as they left. Those who remained seemed in it for the fight. Looking over them, Gilbert couldn't help but feel a pang in his chest and rubbed it absently.

These guys...they feel so responsible for this other group that they'll risk themselves just to keep the civilians out of it? How many people are that crazy?

Moving through the room, the senior officers took role - an up to date count of how many they actually had to fight. Gilbert had to wonder if there were other safe-houses or if this group of 73 men and women were all he had.

Hey now, the ex-nation chided himself, don't get carried away.

Adler winked at him and Gilbert turned away, pretending to make a fuss over his bird. Which he totally was because Gil-bird had recovered enough to flop into a plate of food and start pecking wildly at it - much to the disgust of the plate's owner.

"Oops! Gil-bird! Man, you have to ask before you do that! Come here..."

He gave a sheepish grin as the bird returned to his care. The red bearded man raised an eyebrow and was apparently unimpressed.

"I'm really sorry...he's kind of bird-brained sometimes."

The man cracked a grin. "Never mind. If you froze me solid I'd be feeling half-starved too. The names Ludwig."

Gilbert laughed. "No way! I have a brother named Ludwig! My names Gilbert - and this is Gil-bird. We're pleased to meet you."

"Likewise." The man smiled, taking a drink from his mug before continuing. "Got a brother myself. Names Helmut. We're twins actually - he's at another house."

"Same fight as you?"

"Yep. We both signed up at the same time. What about you - new to this group of ours? How'd you get shanghaied into it?"

"Shanghaied is the right word." Gilbert smirked warmly as he looked over at the General who was drawing up some counter-strike plans - both Gjord and Volker on either side. "I caught a ride here with your leader. He seems a pretty cool guy."

"Haven't seen him mad. Then he's harder to hold onto then a red hot. Seen lions easier to tame then him." The man quipped, taking a healthy bite of bread. Gilbert perked up a bit, wondering just how much the man knew about Adler. It would be more than the Prussian knew for sure.

"So. You been with this traveling circus long?"

The man nodded. "Yeah, since the beginning. It wasn't always so full of sunshine and baby bunnies as it is today." He rolled his eyes. "Had a lot of trouble in the early times. Our last General got in over his head and left this world with a bullet in it."

"A firefight." Gilbert mused, growing serious.

"No." The man growled. "That damn Sword Faction took him out 'cause he was too "dainty" to be in charge. This was back when they had a majority in the army and so they had this big ol' mock trial - accusin' him of spilling the beans to the government or being a spy. I don't think they ever decided which one it was but they sure enough decided he was guilty and bumped him off just like that."

Ludwig sighed, setting his mug down with a heavy thud. After a moment of stroking his long red beard he continued. "After seeing how corrupt they were there was a coup and a new group took hold. Bunch of older guys. They're the ones running Shield now but they were runnin the whole show up until last night when there was an insurrection and those Sword bastards killed off half the council. Now we get what's left of them and Sword faction gets a run of the land while we regroup."

"Man." Gilbert sighed. Gil-bird sighed in agreement as the man returned him to his hair. "It get's worse and worse then."

"Sounds about right."

"So how did Adler get the coveted position of General?" Asked the Prussian, curious about the mans origins.

"No one knows." Ludwig the red-bearded responded, pushing the plate he'd been eating from aside. He began to watch the fire as he spoke. "The council brought him in after the last General was killed and told him to take it. We don't know who he is or where he comes from. Don't even know his full name - although...we don't use full names here. You can't finger someone as an accomplice so easy that way. But yeah, he got on here by appointment and has done good with us since."

"Good." Gilbert breathed a sigh of relief. If the soldiers liked their leader that was a good sign. Troops really weren't the type to take guff from a blow-hard know it all. Had there been any issue he would have said so.

"Thanks."

"Nothing to it. You wanted to know."

Adler's voice carried across the room. "Gilbert?"

"Ja?" He responded, standing up and maneuvering through the couches.

Adler waved at him. "Can you come with me a moment? I want to go over something in private."

With a nod, Gilbert followed. After a circuit of the house and not finding a single unoccupied space the tired General relented and took the stairs to the second floor. They passed two rooms before reaching the end of the hall and stepping inside the room. A horde ended up being kicked out - most settling downstairs but a few sitting in the hall itself and leaning against its one wall, staring out over the living room through the space where the other wall should be but was replaced by a wooden rail.

It was kind of a cool setup, Gilbert thought. Like a balcony. Inside the room, Adler turned on a very small lamp and hovered over it.

"So. What do you think about us confronting Sword?"

"I think we should do it as soon as possible."

"I had the same thought. I can't risk us being caught by police though. Then again neither can they."
Gilbert remained serious in his expression. "But your guys won't shoot police, right?"

"Never." Alder answered; eyes hard. "They are forbidden to. I'd rather not have them arrested for murder."

"Then yeah, you're at a disadvantage - strategically speaking."

"I know. That's why I want your help. I want to move the safe-house to near the border with Belarus. Hopefully close enough that Sword faction won't cause too much trouble there."

Gilbert shivered a bit as he remembered the frost witch who used to be his neighbor. "Really? I mean...is there another way or something?"

"Hm? Is something wrong?" Adler asked with eyes wide and unsuspecting. Gilbert just groaned. "That countries personification is a bit of a bitch."

Adler made a soft, "oh." Before nodding.

There was a loud crack - a repeated banging sound that filled the air. Gilbert hit the floor, hugging close to it and covering his head amid the sound of yelling and shattering glass. The machine-gun fire continued, rattling around in his ears even as he thought he heard someone yelling for him. It went on for an eternity it seemed.

Then it stopped.

In the silence he could hear moans and cries, shouts of alarm. Adler was suddenly beside him, gripping him by the shoulder and checking him to see if he was okay.

"What happened?" Gilbert hissed, instantly having Adler's hand clamped over his mouth.

There was a sound of boots outside approaching - lot's of them.

Then the clomp of people moving up the wooden steps outside came, moving into the doorway. Slowly, Gilbert crawled to the room's entrance and looked down.

The lights in the room had been blown out by the machine guns, the broken bulb swinging in its hanging socket. The boots crunched glass as they entered and slowly looked around. Then their leader - a tall imposing man with pale blond hair and frigid blue eyes in the center spoke.

"Brethren. We have come to ask that you join us. It is only right that we join together under one banner. Are there any that would come with us?"

Silence greeted them. A man reached for his gun and was immediately shot down by the ringleader's guards. Prussia felt Adlers' grip on him tighten as the General flinched, another low and almost feral growl rising from his throat. Gilbert couldn't help but agree, feeling a knot in his stomach as he looked over the arrogant bastard below. He could only guess that these guys were the big bads that Ludwig the red-bearded had mentioned earlier.

Their leader sneered, looking as if he wanted to kick the still warm corpse.

"Pity. I suppose that can't be helped if you want to live your childish dream. But I must ask this, if your threadbare leader changes his allegiance would you? I hate to see such pure blood spilled needlessly."

"Go to hell!" A familiar voice spat. From his hiding spot by the upstairs room, Gilbert saw Volker in a half-crouch against the wall - his shirt soaked through with blood. The former nation felt his heart skip a beat. His body became tense and he silently chanted for the kid to shut up or run or something that wouldn't get him killed.

The man at the door regarded Volker for a moment then turned away with a snort, smoothing his blond hair.

"No. I think I'll leave that to you."

Behind Gilbert was a low growl. "Klaus you son of a bitch...you shoot first and then ask us to surrender!"

"That's the guy?" Gilbert asked, making sure to keep that smug face in his mind.

He'd be looking forward to punching it in the future.

The group left, their footsteps retreating down the wooden stairs and into the yard. Gilbert stood up - for the first time getting a full look at the chaos below. That one attack had wiped out nearly all of the people on the first floor. A few looked to be alive but just barely - they'd need attention and quick. Racing across the landing with several other survivors of the second floor, Gilbert reached the stairs just as something moved out of the corner of his eye.

The room exploded in fire with the sound of busting glass. Gilbert jumped back - hitting the rail and falling over onto the other side of the stairs. There were several more crashes as gasoline soaked bottles rained in through the smashed door and windows and consumed the front of the house in minutes.

Gilbert could hardly catch his breath - his eyes turned upward in amazement as a firestorm engulfed the house. Everything was burning, angry flames racing from one corner to the next. After that slow second time leaped forward as Gilbert came to his senses. He scanned the living room, spirits sinking when he realized there was nothing that could be done for those that had been dying a moment before.

They were far beyond dead now.

As the house timbers creaked from the blaze the few people left raced for the back, trying to kick open the jammed door. Gilbert was just about to push them aside and do it himself when they succeeded - spilling out into the night.

A hand was at his arm, jerking him painfully away from the portal just as another round of machine-gun fire hit the house - throwing those the bullets hit backward. There was screaming, cries of pain and terror. A few grabbed weapons and charged into the night only to be cut down. There was gunfire from the second floor as others stood their ground - firing back with uncanny accuracy at their executioners.

Gjord spun Gilbert around, directing him back toward the main entrance. He was yelling something and finally the albino caught on. Then out of the flames another figure appeared.

"ADLER!" Gilbert yelled, racing toward the General who was struggling to keep Volker on his feet. "The back-"

"I know! Soldiers - to me!"

It seemed like they came out of the woodwork - rallying to their leader once he called for them.

"Got it!" A woman yelled, brandishing a heavy crate filled with clinking jars. "Take em and go!"

Gilbert looked as the lid was thrown off and was the first to move. Grabbing the thick bottle he pulled it from the crate.

"Wait until my mark!" Adler screamed over the roar of the inferno. Gilbert felt like he was burning alive - realizing with horror that he was. Red-orange flames were crawling up the sleeve of his jacket and he quickly put them out - the burning feeling remaining long after as he stared down in shock at the blackened cloth.

How long were they going to wait? Gilbert couldn't stand it!

There was cursing, crying and screaming. The fire of guns and stench of burned flesh and the smell of gas canisters filling the house.

"NOW!"

The sound of the flying home-made missiles lasted only a second and was followed by crashes and explosions outside. Charging outward after the Molotov's the remainder of Shield opened fire on their evil twin faction, driving a wedge out of the blaze and into the darkness of night. As he left Gilbert caught a glance of a red-bearded man, a mug in one hand and a gun in the other lying back on the couch he had been on before.

Out of the house Prussia's eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness - time he didn't have with bullets flying around his head and screeching past his ears. The frigid night gave them no mercy except darkness as the group fled into the thick forests. Above the moon periodically peered through clouds and cast it's pale blue light down onto the snow-covered world below. There was a hush in the forest that would have been remarkable had it not been freezing.

As Gilbert ran his heart thudded with anxiety. In the confusion he realized that the only people he knew now were Gjord, Volker, and the woman who'd supplied their 'ammunition'. Alder was nowhere to be seen. The outlaws raced on through darkened woods; moon obscured by clouds and the light of the burning house fading behind them as the distance grew. There was the smell of fire still in the air and the acrid smell of the gas used to control riots - the smell had managed to soak into Gilberts' clothes and now it burned on his sweat and inflamed the scorched skin on his left arm.

Somewhere along the way Gilbert picked up an injured man who was desperately trying to run with what feeble strength he had.

They seemed to run forever, the sounds fading into the distance with the light. It was eerily quiet in the darkness and with the fear of imminent death around them the world seemed blacker than it ever had been before.

Gilbert felt deep in his soul that he should have known. Something told him he should have known. But he ignored it. To run was to live and for now that was what mattered.

As they crossed over a shallow stream Gilbert stopped.

"You mind?" He called to the man on his back. "I have to put you down a second."

When there was no response he quickly set the soldier on the ground, his back to a thick pine. The second he confirmed there was no pulse he bit back a mournful moan and turned away, not allowing tears to fog his vision.

"Hey!" The woman yelled, having realized he wasn't following her any longer. "You, kid!"

"Kid my ass!" Gilbert growled, picking up several rocks and placing them in his pocket. With a human throwing them they were pretty lame. But an ex-nation throwing them with a little 'extra' and the guy that got hit wouldn't be limping home afterwards. "I'm older than all of you combined!"

Gjord turned around. "Stop it! Let's move!"

"Where's Adler?" Gilbert yelled, looking around. "We need to get him."

"We hav' t' go!" Gjord shouted back, shifting Volker on his back. The young man winced as he was moved but still carried his pistol in his good hand. With one last look behind him, Gilbert followed as he was told - racing through the forest.

This old familiar forest...I know this...I should be taking the lead...

So he did, guiding the pockets of soldiers as they all met up toward what he felt was their best chance - north and east. Toward Belarus.

And slowly, all the while he felt a strange tingling in his body - as if he were coming alive again.

There was a commotion when Adler came back.

He was beaten, bloodied and torn leading a small band of survivors with him. The girl that had helped Gilbert and Gjord get out of the woods looked like she was about to cry when she saw him. Gilbert wondered absently if they had a thing going on.

If it was Elizaveta she'd insist it were Gjord and him instead.

He shook his head. Gilbert didn't need that image after everything else.

While the blond woman tended to the leader of this bruised and battered band Gilbert wandered through the halls of what he'd been told was safe-house X - the others being declared too dangerous to occupy. There was a little old Polish woman who lived there and once she'd seen a group of soldiers on her door she'd fought tooth and nail to keep them out. That was until she realized they had injured and were a group of 12 being fended off by one old lady with a broom.

Needless to say, her pity was appreciated and though she muttered and yelled at them in her native tongue for the slightest of aggravations she nonetheless treated their wounds.

Gilbert knew this would be the end of the fight for many of the safe house survivors. The injured would go to the hospital and then to the police.

The dead would go to the morgue.

The living would go on as best they could - disappearing into the unforgiving forest and hopefully survive.

Gilbert was able to go to Adler's side sometime later, walking softly past the other soldiers who had also take refuge in the room. A few looked up at him with curious eyes and he realized it was because his jacket had been left in the main room when he'd had a bullet wound he hadn't felt happen and the burn on his arm that he had treated. His leg didn't hurt at all it seemed.

But Adler lie there sleeping fitfully. The medic had survived...or one of them at least. And his stash had been enough to cure most of their ills. From what the doc was saying Adler had been sick to begin with. Now with an injury and the cold it was sure to become bronchitis. But if he stayed with the injured that would be the end of Shield faction.

There were others, other safe houses. They'd moved once Gjord had broken their self-imposed silence and telephoned the others. Total, Shield had an estimated 184 members alive in at least two other safe houses. Who knew how many could still fight.

At the beginning of the night they had 340. Their enemies had attacked all the safe-houses they had known of at once. In the case of the main one there had been no warning and the casualties had been high - they'd had 73 people just a few hours ago. Now they had 17 that were 'breathing and blinking' in the words of the medic. Maybe five of those could fight.

Sword had 579 and growing every day thanks to their connections in low places.

But now he thought of Adler, this messy haired rogue. The General almost seemed to have a light about him, even with a deathly pallor on his skin. In fact, most of those who had fought seemed changed. Not that their mood was bright - far from it - they just seemed to...glow. As if they were highlighted with some hidden spotlight in a very subtle way.

Gilbert narrowed his eyes, and then widened them. Turning away, he desperately sought out a hidden corner. Finally finding one he stood, gasping for air.

He could feel again without numbness.

Breathe again without pain.

The ailments of a fading body were gone and he could have sworn his leg was already mostly healed after just a few hours. And that glow...a glow only a nation saw, and only for their own people.

Putting a hand to his face Gilbert shivered. "No...that's my imagination...it's not..."

Ludwig.

First his mind flickered to the bearded man who had surely burned up with the house. A wave of guilt crashed over him.

If I'd been paying attention I might have heard them coming. Shit...I could have done more...was he still alive when I left? I don't know...damn it. And how do I tell Helmut?

He wondered what to say to a brother who's lost their sibling. And so his mind turned to his Ludwig.

I should have known.

I did...but why?

Ludwig.

It was a moment of clarity. Enlightenment. Suddenly raising his hands to his head Gilbert clutched at his silver hair, pulling tightly as a strangled cry left his mouth. Gasping with his mouth agape he fell back against the wall, sliding down until he landed on the floor. Dropping his hands, he slowly pulled himself in - tucking his legs to his chest and burying his head in his knees.

It all makes sense now...I know why I know...Luddy...

Of course he'd heard of such a horrible crime before - to set a house ablaze having trapped people inside.

He'd known shortly after they had invaded Poland. But he'd never understood till that moment.

It was one thing to imagine how horrible being sent to your death like that - as if you were nothing more than trash to be rid of - might feel. It was another thing to live through it.

So sitting in the corner of a crowded little home, hoping that these murderers hadn't followed them there he cried for the first time in a long time. He cried for himself, for the people who had died and lived.

And he cried for his little brother.

Authors Note:

Too...much...going on...

I thought summer was supposed to be my slow time of year? To relax and do what I want?
No. That's a lie. So totally not true...

Tidbits of ( weird ) wisdom from the author!

1) Don't shoot someone in the back at point range with a paintball gun and then tell them to surrender. If you do then you officially suck.

2) Frozen Foxholes are cold and therefore also suck.

3) CS gas sucks more than a frozen foxhole. Just check out wikipedia and read the possible risks of CS gas in an enclosed area. Now see how the US military uses it in basic.

*shakes head*

America: What? It builds character!

In any case, I'm so sorry for the late chapter. Thank you for reading my oft-off schedule work!