Black was the only colour in that bastard's eyes. No sign of recognition that Lovino could read. No tinge of fondness that should have been there. Just anger chortled behind the wrinkles of the rage-drawn snarl. Only ire…

And that wrath dripped from Antonio's fangs with every chilling snap and crackle of his voice, each growing lower and deeper as his talons clawed at the ground, indenting, combing the earth into the portrait of the animalistic temper pouring from his clouded mind. He swallowed down a guttural gasp with the cluster of clacks popping along his spine, but those eyes, those blank eyes never lost their target, nor did the snarl stretching his lips lose its bite. Lankily, almost feline-like, did he slink closer to the fretting Lovino, dragging his nails across the ground. Saliva laden with flecks of dirt and blood dribbled from parted lips, pooling in a weedy stream at Lovino's feet as Antonio inched closer, his back hunched over, twitching in tune with the pops radiating from his flesh.

Despite the fear nibbling at Lovino's mind, the urge to run or fight screaming in his ears, the alabaster skinned of the two remained motionless, and only a shuddering breath coiled behind his teeth before slipping back down his throat. Muscles convulsed with every crack that littered the air, but Antonio bit back his wails, gulping them down with every thick swallow before allowing the remnants to seethe out of his blood smeared lips as puffs laden with heat. His massive mandibles clicked against bared teeth, their size tearing the corners of his maw.

A growl, low and feral, purred from the back of Lovino's throat, quickly tailed by a harsh hiss that vibrated against his clattering mandibles, however, his threat was ignored. Antonio continued on, closer and closer, until his talons grazed the edge of Lovino's thigh. Tense, the smaller of the two became, his warnings growing louder and louder still. With a slight sway to his movements, Antonio reared back on his haunches, blood trickling from his lips and splattering on the still forming carapace of his chest.

Stop… please stop…

Silent words, no longer able to properly form in his mouth, echoed in the back of Lovino's mind. Jumbled and panicked, each desperate for a path into the air, but they were confined to his thoughts while as instincts seized his voice. Another hostile growl morphed into a shrill series of clatters, each met with breath lathered vocalizations and bared fangs, but neither of the two retreated. Antonio was lost, deranged, and in all likelihood, indifferent to the other. The organism inside him drove him to madness rather than forming him into the perfect creature he was supposed to be: the perfect mate of the now doomed Lovino.

I don't want to hurt you…

Snarls purred off of Antonio's tongue with the faint sways of his body, each reverberating in Lovino's ears far louder than the trickling of rain outside their nest, and then, as a bolt of lightning flashed against the glossy, black hide of the crouching once-human, it happened.

A thunderous roar of the heavens.

A screech scratching from a panicked maw.

A lurch upward.

Claws slashing across bared flesh.

The next thing Lovino knew, Antonio was sprawled across the centre of the nest, and air was heaving in and out of the smaller creature's lungs. There wasn't any sound coming from the once-human; no more growls, no huffs of pain… just silence from an unmoving body. "No..." Frantic, black-laced eyes dove down to blood stained claws. "N-N-No…" They wildly shifted back to the motionless figure muddled with delicate human flesh and the sturdy hide tearing through the useless skin. A wave of shudders rolled through once tense muscles, continuing to torment him as he hesitantly crept closer to Antonio's frozen body. "I-I didn't mean…"

Not a muscle twitched on Antonio's body. No light flickered along his flesh, and Lovino dared not to move close enough to see if breath whirled in his lungs. No, no. That poor creature froze the moment the mere thought formed in his head that Antonio had died by his hands, or rather, by his claws; his blood stained claws. It was almost as if frost crystalized in his blood in a matter of seconds, the way that the trembles overtook his muscles with such rapidity. "A-Antonio?" Still, not a sound answered his soft, quivering whimper.

This couldn't be happening. This wasn't real. It was a dream. A dream! Antonio was fine! "H-H-He's alive! He's n-not dead!" Oh, how those words rung so clear in his head, so desperate for them to be true, but in his heart, a sharp pain coiled. Weight shifted first onto his heels, and then onto his rear. "I didn't kill him… n-n-not from a t-tiny scratch." As his whispers met nothing but the pattering of the rain, his eyes fell upon the dots of crimson splattered throughout their den and then the blood slithering out from under Antonio's mop of curls. "He's j-just sleeping…" His heels dug into the ground, forcing his weight across their nest and scraping out faint ridges into the dirt.

He's just sleeping…

Sleeping…

What a feeble thought reverberating against the walls of his mind. Back and forth, it bounced, steadily chipping away into the whine that manifested in his throat and the burn that licked his eyes. Lovino could feel his heart throbbing in his throat, beating faster, quicker with each harsh breath purring from his lungs. He couldn't even hear the rain anymore over the sounds his own body emitted, and only a second later, he could barely feel the rain pelting his cheeks as he loped through the forest.

Blindly, Lovino ran, ran, and only continued to run. Perhaps several limbs lashed at his face, perhaps he sprinted far past the area he knew; he didn't care. He had to get away. Far, far away. He had to get away from the smell of blood and Antonio's scent, but no matter how far he ran, no matter how much the rain saturated his nostrils, he couldn't escape the stench. It chased him, despite the plethora of trees whirring past his vision. Surely, the stink had already soaked into the soil, and only grew stronger with each drop of water that it absorbed.

And soon enough, his breath grew cold in his mouth, stabbing at his lungs with every heave and huff, forcing Lovino to slow to a limping stride, although, that didn't last long. Mud splattered in all directions as he collapsed to his knees.

Pain. There was so much pain all over his body; his limbs, his lungs, his heart. It swelled inside him, churning and nipping at his innards, as it had no escape, that is, before it carved one for itself. Lovino's abdomen lurched, forcing him to hold his weight up with his hands as his stomach emptied itself onto the rain flooded soil. He dared not to look at the mess swirling into the mud coating his hands. Instead, Lovino pulled his body back into a stand, and after using the back of his hand to wipe away the disgusting liquid dribbling from his bottom lip, he trudged forward with an ever so slight limp to his step. Well, at least that was what he would've liked to do. He only made it to the closest tree before he had to lean on the trunk, and vomited out what was remaining in his stomach. A haggard cough scratched past his tongue along with the tiny droplets clinging to his teeth, further stimulating the less than subtle quivers quickly taking over his body.

"I'm sorry…" Lovino barely noticed the whisper tickling his throat. "I'm so sorry…I'm sorry…" A flinch racked his muscles as thunder roared through the forest, and his eyes fluttered shut against the roar of the rain and wind, not bothering to attempt to re-open as something fell from a nearby tree. At this point, he didn't care. His body shuddered, cringing from the sickly sensation spreading from his belly and the cold chill finally worming its way through the insulation of his exoskeleton. "I'm sorry, Antonio."

Lovino… He was alone now. Deep down in his heart, he knew it was the truth, no matter how many times his mind told him otherwise. He was lost, doomed for the inevitable future that was slowly closing its jaws around him, and with Antonio… with Antonio gone, there wasn't anything he could do to fix it. Warmth trickled down Lovino's cold washed cheeks, stopping only once they reached his lips, giving the rain a salty tang against his tongue. I'm sorry wasn't enough anymore to sate the pain clawing at his chest, not that he could even whisper it now. A ball far too sticky and hard to swallow clogged his voice in his throat, making the clatters of his mandibles against painfully bared teeth and the sharp breaths forced from his lungs the only sounds that escaped the creature. However, those soft, nearly inaudible sounds soon grew to a screeching cry far louder than the rain splattering against his alabaster flesh.

For hours, Lovino refused to move from his spot. He didn't care that he was only a few feet from the contents of his stomach, nor did he care that he was sitting in mud. Even after the sun had set, he remained, blank eyed and empty as he stared at a single point on the ground. There wasn't any point in moving anymore. There wasn't any point in caring. He was going to die, and so was his clutch… it was as simple as that. He could hunt, he could eat, but it wouldn't make a difference. Even if he found a proper host for his offspring, he himself would be killed by his second clutch long before his brood would reach the age in which they could survive on their own. Antonio was the key to Lovino and their children's survival, and with him gone, they were all doomed.

How many days did he have? He was sure the humans had names for the numbers over it, but it wouldn't be much longer than that. Hell, he was already lucky that Antonio's transformation had occurred so quickly, so the chances of Lovino having such good luck again and surviving past those days was very low; almost non-existent. However, that was what the ever growing human-like side of him believed. His true nature declined to believe such a thing could happen, and forced him get up off of his rump. He was weak in his current state, quivering with such pain and lethargy. Staying on the ground wasn't a viable way to protect his developing eggs.

He needed to find safety.

Line after line, after yet another line of black and white was the only thing that graced Arthur's eyes for the past hour. Frowning, he scratched out several words at the end of his current sentence and scribbled over the marks with his elegant scrawl, all while lazily tapping his foot to the tune trickling in through his slightly ajar door. A "jolly" tune it was, far too happy for this dismal prison so far away from the sun's warm caress, but that static-laced drone of the 50's was the only thing that attempted to swat away the evil festering in these depths. It certainly failed at its job. Chills continued to prick at the Englishman's neck, all stemming from the cold light tiptoeing down from the whitewashed rows of monitors surrounding him, yet no matter how much he tried to ignore them and focus on correcting his report, those images continued to torment him.

Broken men and women clawed at the walls of their prisons, crying, begging for death, but the only person knowing of their pain couldn't do a thing to aid them. He could only glance up at their withering bodies before having to tear his eyes away, praying his heart wouldn't break before he could finish what goals he had planned. Having to observe everyone on this floor certainly was the highlight of his already dismal day. Many of them he used to be acquainted with, some for days, others for years, and a few of the helpless men and women, he never saw before they were thrown upon that cold, steel floor, but all of them had at least one thing in common: Arthur would watch them die, and later, he would drag their bodies to the "harvesting room".

However, there was a single set of monitors that held another surveillance of a certain cell, this one far larger than the rest. Constantly, Arthur averted his eyes away from the screens set directly in front of him, yet, he could still see that dark shadow slithering around and around in her lair, scratching and nipping at the thick glass wall that overlooked the steel-plated hallway. Even now, that disgusting creature lurked around, slamming her massive body against the transparent wall, barely scratching it with her fragile hide, but she never tired of her feeble attempts to escape. Even then, Arthur could hear the pounds of her thrashing, each echoing of thunder, each forcing a pause of his heart.

"Repulsive, bloody creature…" Dark shadows lined his eyes as rather thick brows furrowed under strands of straw-blond hair, the lines growing deeper with every scratch of his fountain pen along his ever increasingly red-crossed report. "…won't stop making so much noise." So hard, he attempted to concentrate on the music pouring from Alfred's office, but damn, if that monster only screeched louder and louder. Arthur finally grumbled under his breath and twisted around, slamming the steel door shut.

It didn't help.

Bloody hell, it didn't help at all. It just made everything so much worse. Her ghastly voice bounced off the walls of his cramped room, echoing under the headache-inducing hum of the several monitors surrounding him, before burying under his skin and scratching at his nerves, turning them cold. Rough, calloused fingers rubbed at aching eyes and trailed up to the flesh above his ears, gently rubbing in hopes to soothe the pain swelling up against his brain, yet, as those emerald eyes flicked up to the centre monitor, the light alone engulfed the pain, intensifying it the longer his gaze remained fixed on the screen.

How the hell did those maniacs in control consider her "beautiful"? Lisa, that horrid thing, was far from even pretty. Money. That was the only reason they considered that chimera less than unsightly. The governments of several countries were offering obscenely high amounts for a weapon that could easily infiltrate an enemy's ranks and take control of anyone they wanted; civilians, troops, leaders; it didn't matter, as long as those infected would obey every command of a single Queen with something they compared to a mix of "mind-control" and a "hive mind". That said, Queen, in turn, would obey only a handful of human commanders. And as for Lisa herself, well, she was at the centre everything.

Sighing through gritted teeth, Arthur pushed his file away and leaned back in his chair, watching that creature writhe in her hold. God, he hated her; everything from the multitude of legs jutting out from her elongated body, to that slimy tongue constantly dangling from her jawless maw. She was nothing but a monster, an extension of a creature of nightmare. It was a feat that the creatures born from her eggs resembled humans when they emerged from their "cocoons" of flesh, but then again, those things were more human than she could ever be, both in looks and genetics.

A particularly loud screech bellowed from the beast's throat as she slammed the side of her body into the glass wall barring her from the outside world, shaking the camera fastened high upon the ceiling, but Arthur merely sighed, knowing that the freakish creature wouldn't escape. He rubbed at his eyes after a while, the sting of the light finally taking its toll. The Englishman glanced over the many files strewn across his desk, his mind already recounting all of the horrible tests those participants had to endure. A certain file somewhere in the middle of the pile caught his eyes, and as an instinct he repeated so many times in the past, he reached for it, frowning as the glossy letters shimmered in the eerie light of the monitors.

VL03116110

Lovino Vargas…

The "prodigy" of the entire program…

Oh, how the blonde's heart ached once he flipped the cover of the envelope, his eyes resting on the pictures of the dead Italian's body. Such hues of sickly colours lined the man's body shortly before his death, staining every centimetre of his flesh along with the sores and pustules shaped by those atrocious chemicals injected into his blood. But all for what? To cure his brother of a genetic disease? While Arthur certainly admired him for how much he cared for that little sibling of his, he couldn't but to help to scoff at the idiocy of the entire thing. He'd have to completely rework Feliciano's DNA in order to cure him of his illness.

It was ironic, really. Tragic, but still ironic. The only thing that would've cured the younger Italian brother happened to the elder of the two.

That poor, idiotic git. Arthur sighed, feeling the edges of the paper biting at his fingers as he sifted through them, his mind already replaying all of the surveillance he had to watch over the years, all of the hours on end watching Lovino curled up in the corner…shivering… leaping at every small bang that frequented these halls… Once his vigour broke, he was like everyone else who made the mistake of answering those fliers; Ruined, and eventually dead.

That is, until they took his highly unstable and altered DNA, along with the genetic material of a few insects, and injected them into the last of Lisa's eggs. Something developed within the egg, and no matter what that twit Alfred believed, it wasn't Lovino. It… it just wasn't. Perhaps it made the American feel better about literally causing the death of a rather close friend, thinking that he simply cloned the Italian into another body, but Arthur couldn't believe it. It was so pathetic, so saddening, to know that thing could be considered something akin to the offspring or even a twisted clone of the elder Vargas brother. Watching that thing for months, he just knew it wasn't that loudmouth brat of a man. It certainly didn't share the fiery git's memories, it wasn't nearly as intelligent as the fellow representative was, and it didn't act like him. There were no bites, no attempts to escape the grasp of the overly giddy blond, absolutely no lunges at the German Lovino practically loathed.

But Alfred just kept those idiotic thoughts in his mind. It was like that tiny worm kept him from feeling responsible for Lovino's death, and just watching that thing slither around in the paper filled bowl on his desk managed to keep his mind from destroying his heart. Although, dare he say it, Arthur himself felt his own heart break when the tiny creature would panic every time it had to return to its overnight jar and he really didn't blame the creature for absolutely hating that glass container. After all, it was placed in the room adjacent to Lisa's, and he was sure that every movement she made was magnified in that tiny vessel, the sounds possibly resembling thunder.

Arthur flipped over to one of the more recent photographs of the outcome of nearly five years of experimentation, this one noting the growth of VL03116110 two months after it hatched. Larger, the tiny worm-thing had become, but not by much; maybe an inch or two in length, at most. He frowned and shakily slid the glossy paper away from his eyes. None of this… not one bit, did he want to remember the disappointment, the pain that creased the skin of that oblivious American once the tiny red creature disappeared from the labs, nor the slight admiration of the infant monster that steadily wormed its way under his flesh over the three months it was around him.

He wanted to forget, but the memories continued to flood his mind, and no amount of alcohol managed to saturate the images until they were destroyed.

"Looking over Lovino's file, huh?"

Arthur all but leaped at the sudden weight pressing down his shoulder and the breath lapping at his ear. Air caught in his lungs, but only for a second as it rushed out his lips as a flutter and stained his face a slight red. Brows furrowed and teeth clinched, Arthur spun his chair around, glaring up at the bright smile taunting him from high above.

"Damn it, Jones! How many times have I told you to knock!?"

"There's no need to be so formal, you know." That damnable American simply chuckled at Arthur's sputters, and moved around to the guard's side, his thigh taking a rest on the side of the table as his eyes turned up to the screens upon the wall. The Englishman, on the other hand, rolled his eyes, and returned to facing his desk, the pictures still scattered all over the chipped wood.

"What do you want?" Little more than a grumble vibrated against his tea-stained teeth. "You know they don't like us meeting on company time." A tiny frown tugged at the smile on Alfred's face. Of course he knew that, yet the younger blond still did these idiotic actions. Taking the silence as acknowledgement of the truth, Arthur slipped his fingers under a particular photo of VL03116110, its weight barely there against his skin. "I don't want you to be chewed out again."

"I'll be fine, Artie." Sure. If he would be, then why was his voice barely audible against the distant howls of that caged heathen? "It won't be the first time they've yelled at me for stupid things." Or rather, it wouldn't be the first time they sent someone to screech at him. Those bastards were off in their own base, far away from any monster that their company created. Hell, for all that Arthur knew, they never actually visited their laboratories, nor showed their faces to their employees. "Anyway…" Sky blue eyes remained locked upon the pale screens as soft words tumbled from the gentle flicks of his tongue, a grim expression wiping away the cheerfulness that once curved the muscles of his face. "They've made a decision about Antonio."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Have they now?" Knowing them, they probably ruled it off as Alfred's idiocy and decided to let it go while lowering the blond's already severely docked pay. "What will they do? Slap you on the wrist and-"

"They're going to kill him."

A snort puffed through his nose. "Really? I thought they would…of…" Wait… They're to kill him? Shaken, emerald eyes leaped up to the man leaning against his table. "Kill him!?" A grim nod. "But why? The git isn't smart enough to figure something out from a mere picture!"

Alfred sighed, gazing down at the hands folded in his lap. "Apparently they don't think the same." No… no, there had to be something else. Something that got the idiot into trouble, but what? "They're going to wait a few days before gathering together a crew to go over to his home."

A few days? Normally they act the moment they find out. "Why the delay?"

"I don't know. They wouldn't tell me, but that does give us some time."

True, however, it wasn't much time to think of something that they could do. Quivering fingers fumbled over themselves as they pressed against Arthur's lips, his hands holding his head up while his eyes glared at a tiny stretch of wall set between the monitors. "Can we do anything to stop them?"

"There's only one thing that I can think of, but we don't have time to waste thinking about if it would work."

Leafy green shifted from the pale gleam of the walls to the plethora of lines forming along Alfred's face. With arms folded tightly across his chest, the tall blond frowned, his eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses. "Then what do we do?" Only then, did the American finally look down at his long-time friend.

"God dammit!"

That was one of the many shouts that poured from Gilbert's mouth as the night droned on. With far too much energy leaping around his mind and body, there wasn't any way that the German could fall asleep, and through all of that, he made the mistake of fiddling with his computer once again, which ended in him growing increasingly frustrated. That stupid program with whoever the fuck it was with the long line of numbers had failed to pop back up on his screen, and after a few hours of digging through internal files and programs, his computer flashed the lovely "blue-screen of death".

He wanted to toss his keyboard across the room, oh, how he so desperately wanted to, but he sighed as an alternative, and spun his chair around, his anger focusing on the wall. Someone sabotaged his precious baby, and he wasn't happy about it. Not one fucking bit. Gilbert hissed before too much longer and curled his toes into the floor, his ruddy eyes drifting from spot to spot in his room, finally landing on the phone nestled between the folds of his blankets. Quiet… so quiet his phone was all day. A frown tugged at Gilbert's lips. Usually, his brother would inform him how his day was going when the elder of the two was house-sitting, mostly just to give him someone to talk to. But today, he didn't hear a word from his bro, except for that morning. Nothing since five in the morning, and now, it was close to midnight.

He did get to wherever he needed to be, right? Ludwig said something about leaving the state, so he would've called. Using the heels of his feet, Gilbert pushed himself and his chair across the space between his desk and his bed, and slipped the phone into his palm. So cold, it had become resting atop his bed, however, warmth quickly returned to it as Gilbert flipped through the various menus with his thumb until he found his brother's name in the contacts.

There wasn't a pause in his movements before he pressed the button to call Ludwig. He'd understand why the elder was calling at such a late time, and thankfully, he wasn't the type to become angry when woken from his slumber.

The dull droning of the standard ring vibrated in his ears, going on and on, never coming to a stop. Nails tapped against the arm of his chair, and air puffed out of lazily closed lips. What was taking so long?

Riiiiiiiing. Riiiii- You have reached the phone of-

Strange… he didn't answer. Gilbert called back again, but it only ended in the same result.

"Hey," he began his message after the tone of the dial, "Just wondering how you were. You haven't called or replied to anything and I was getting worried. Give me a sign that you're okay, alright bro?" A tiny click leapt from his phone's speaker as the screen turned blank, and his eyes slipped closed. This wasn't a good feeling, this feeling of dread bubbling up in his stomach. It kept coiling tighter and tighter around his organs, chilling his nerves with its prickly scales. There was something wrong; he just knew it, and it wasn't only with his bother. No. Not once had he heard from Antonio since that static laced call, and to be honest, he felt a little guilty about placing this stupid thing with Eugenics over the wellbeing of his friend. While Franny did say that he was fine, that wasn't good enough for the self-proclaimed Prussian. He should've visited his pal, not stay at home and bitch about his computer.

Speaking of whom, Francis, that is, he hadn't heard from him for a few days either. Sighing, Gilbert flipped to the calendar on his phone, looking for anything for the next morning. Nothing. Good. Wunderbar. Neither he nor Francis had a meeting the next day, meaning they could get together, and the thought of something going as planned made a smile stretch across his lips. Tomorrow, he'd call the blond haired Parisian and get him to come over. Yes, oh how good that sounded. And then… then they'd go visit Antonio to make sure he didn't manage to cut off his hand or something. Well that, and give the man the comfort he surely needed, and the socialization he constantly craved from others. He and Francis would take Antonio out somewhere too; maybe a nearby town, or simply through one of the museums scattered throughout the capital. Lunch would be a must, oh yes. Somewhere with a plethora of authentic Spanish dishes and wines, somewhere Antonio would love after spending so long away from his homeland.

So lost in his thoughts, Gilbert missed the doorbell as it rang the first three times, each pressed so quickly together, it was as if the visitor's finger never left the tiny button. However, he did hear when his front door was forced open. It was hard to miss, really, that loud bang resonating from downstairs, quickly followed by the quick, heavy footsteps pattering against his floor. Gilbert leaped from his chair, diving for the drawer by his bed, his mind set on retrieving the gun hidden within. A calming chill pricked at his heart once his fingers brushed against the wooden grip, and it was just in time too. Those heavy footsteps from before pounded on the stairs leading up to his position, quickly enough to send his heart racing, but slow enough to give him enough time to point the barrel straight at the door.

"Come at me, you fucker." While it was nothing more than a growling whisper, those words calmed him quite a bit. His grip held steady, determined, focused; easily matching the fire broiling behind narrowed, crimson eyes. Although, the moment the intruder's shadow splayed itself across the floor beyond his door, his breath caught in his throat, forcing his muscles to tense up just before a figure came into view and his finger squeezed the trigger.

A yelp brushed against his ears, quickly followed by a panicked yell. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! It's just me!"

Gilbert's heart dropped, and so did the gun. "Jesus Christ, Francis! What the fuck!?" God damnit, that damned Frenchman better be so fucking glad that Gilbert had missed the shot, if only by an inch. Wide eyed and paled, Francis took a moment to catch his breath, his fingers quaking more than Gilbert had ever seen.

"I rang the doorbell! Didn't you hear?" No? He didn't? Yet before Gilbert had a chance to respond, the Frenchman's mouth was already spouting out words as fast as he bound across the room. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. What does matter is that you need to get out of here, now." A hand grabbed at the red-eyed man's wrist, its grip strong and slightly painful. It ripped him off of the floor, forcing him to follow Francis to the door.

Gilbert attempted to slow his dragging body, but to no avail. "Whoa, whoa there Franny! What the hell is wrong?" He didn't stop. Hell, he probably wasn't listening, causing Gilbert to growl under his breath as he snatched his hand away. "Damn it, talk to me!"

It was frightening how quickly Francis spun around and grabbed the man by his shoulders, digging his nails into his flesh with the same fierceness as the ice coating his eyes. "We don't have time, Gilbert." He could literally feel the bite of the frost from the man's hissed words. "I swear I will answer everything, but now, we need to go!" He didn't give Gilbert another chance to speak before pushing him the rest of the way to the door, and then down the stairs. "As soon as we pass the front door, I want you to run to my car. Not walk, not fucking skip, run." Several times, Gilbert nearly tripped over his own bare feet as he was shoved down the steps. He was barely held up by Francis' grip on his shoulders. "Get in the back. There is a blanket on the seat; get under it and don't move until I tell you to."

They made it half way across the living room floor. "Franny, what's going on?" He couldn't hide the shudder in his voice. Never before, had his friend acted in such a strange way; so nervous and jumpy. He was always smiles and flirts. Never this. To be honest, Gilbert could already feel cold fear gripping at his heart and muscles, barely giving him enough will to move once Francis shoved him through the door.

"GO!"

He needn't be told twice. Cold, wet grass peeking through the bricks of the walkway nipped at the heels of his feet, adding only a smack to the slapping flesh echoing into the night. Francis' car was still running beyond the tiny gate along the boundary of the property line, both the driver's door and the rear passenger door ajar. Francis tailed behind Gilbert, practically scraping the back of his heels with the tips of his shoes, and once the German leapt into the rear as he was instructed, the door slammed shut behind him. Around the car to the front, Francis raced, plopping down into his own seat and closing the door just before Gilbert's head was tucked under the coarse blanket.

Not a second later, Gilbert was thrown back by the sudden change of the car's speed. The engine roared as Francis surely pressed the pedal all the way to the floor, slowing only shortly before Gilbert slid either to the left or the right. All right. Enough was enough. "Franny, what the hell is going on!? What the fuck has you like this?"

A moment passed, and at first, Gilbert thought that his friend was ignoring him. But, just as his mouth opened, ready to repeat his words, a whisper fell from Francis' lips. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? I'm the one who nearly shot your ass! What the hell do you have to be sorry about?"

Gilbert pushed himself up with his arms, allowing the blanket to slip off of his head. "No! Get down!" Using one hand, Francis tugged the sheet back down, and used it to push Gilbert down as well. "I'm sorry about not telling you anything."

"What? Francis, you're not making any sens-"

"Your brother is dead, Gilbert. And it's my fault."

Cold and sharp, those words were. They struck Gilbert in his core, shattering his bones as it ricocheted around his heart. "L-Ludwig… he's dead?" No. Impossible.

Francis hesitated at first, but soon, he stated his reply. "Yes. Eugenics ordered and executed his death an hour ago. Now, they're after you." No…No. No, that couldn't be true. "I shouldn't have asked him to help me. I should've just let things be the way they were supposed to be. All of this is my fault." Francis continued to mutter out nonsense, however, Gilbert wasn't paying attention… not anymore.

With his hands tightly clamped over his mouth and his body curling itself into a ball, Gilbert remained silent, using every bit of strength he had to keep the panic broiling inside him to nothing but a simmer. Surely, the blond was joking, right? He didn't have a reason to get all flustered over this, yet, something within told Gilbert otherwise. Ludwig didn't answer his phone… not once since he left early that morning. The only other time that ever happened was when his little brother woke up in a hospital the next day, and even then, someone called Gilbert with the news. "Tell me it's not true." He wasn't sure if Francis heard his plea, with the silence that greeted his ears at first.

There was another swerve of the car to the left before he received an answer. "I'm sorry, Gilbert," Solemn and short, was his answer, barely reaching Gilbert's ears over the roar of the racing engine. "But he really is dead."

Iced, were the needles that pierced Gilbert's heart, digging deeper and deeper as time ticked on, and his voice locked itself tight in his throat. It felt like hands began to grip around his neck, tightening their fingers every so often, biting him with heat cloaked fangs. He didn't say much after that for a while. He simply curled up into a ball under the blanket, snapping his hands over his whimper spilling mouth and jammed his eyes shut.

Das ist nicht wahr…

Es ist einfach nicht wahr...

Yet, those words couldn't drown out the pathetic quivers of his heart.

Ludwig ist tot.

Mein Brüderlein wurde getӧtet. Er kommt nicht zurück. Er kommt nach Hause nicht. Mein Brüderlein wird nie wieder nach Hause kommen.

Tears clawed out a path from the corners of Gilbert's lids, dribbling out and leaving scalding stains down his cheeks before trickling off onto his sleeve. He couldn't hold them in anymore. He didn't care if Francis heard his sobs bubbling out of his mouth, some soft while others were louder than the roar of the engine, and several minutes later, Gilbert was still weeping with the blanket tightly drawn around his shivering form. The Frenchman said nothing; nothing at all. He probably didn't turn around either, but Gilbert didn't care. Somehow, for some reason, he blamed it on himself rather than the one who claimed fault.

He could've asked him about the photo on his phone. He could've done something to help.

But he didn't.

He was too engrossed in those stupid files he found to notice if his brother was more fidgety than normal, and that guilt slowly building up in his chest, oh, it hurt worse than breaking bones.

Eventually, Gilbert attempted to calm the cries crawling from his lungs, using the back of his hand as a makeshift gag. Somehow it worked after a few minutes, although the hiccups and sniffles refused to let him be, even after he pulled the covers away from his head and glared up at Francis.

Gilbert stilled his breath as much as he could before huffing out a few words. "H-How did you know ab-bout West?"

Francis' lips straightened themselves into a grim line. "I had to watch his execution."

Wait. Execution? Why in the hell was his baby bro executed? "What the fuck are you talking about? A fucking execution?"

"Yes, Gilbert."

Pale brows creased equally pale skin over crimson eyes. "By who?"

"Eugenics Inc." An icy spear stabbed the German's heart upon hearing that simple name fall from his friend's lips. His brother worked for that company… and he completely forgot about it while he was absorbed in that same company's tortuous acts against the elder Vargas brother. How could he? What kind of person had he become to not realize the danger his own sibling was in? "It's my fault that it happened."

"What do you mean?"

Gilbert could see Francis' knuckles flush to a sickly white as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. "I asked him to help me… smuggle out a subject, but Ludwig got caught after they realized he was missing." He deeply inhaled a quivering breath, one that matched Gilbert's, before continuing. "We… We didn't want him to suffer the same fate as the others…We were going to kill him; the specimen. You already know about this abomination."

Wait… he did? But the only one he knew about was…was…

"Oh god. It was Lovino?" He barely spotted the nod answering his whisper. "He's still alive?"

"It depends on what you mean by Lovino."

"What? I don't get it."

Francis' grip tightened on the wheel, his eyes flicking between the mirrors reflecting the lights slowly dying away into darkness. "There is a Lovino who is still alive, but he's not Feliciano's lost brother; that one is dead. The new one is the product of all of the experiments on the original Lovino. This one is nothing more than a monster."

But he thought that the fiery Italian was still alive, not dead. Perhaps malformed and nothing but skin and bones… not pushing daisies. Yet, something else struck Gilbert in that moment. How in the world did the Frenchman know about all of this; his brother's death and Lovino? He thought that the man never met Feli's older brother. "Franny," he began, slowly rising himself off of the seat, watching to see if his friend wanted him to still be hidden, "How do you know about Lovino?"

"I work for Eugenics."

Francis worked for… for Eugenics? "There's no way…"

"It's true, Gilbert. I've worked for them for a long time."

Oh, the rage that pushed away what sadness that was coiling in Gilbert's heart. Francis worked for that abomination of a company. He let all of that stuff happen to Lovino, and didn't bother to tell anyone of the atrocities occurring behind those doors? "Why didn't you do anything to stop them…" His voice quivered with ire. "Why did you let them do all of that to those innocent people? To Lovino?"

A tired sigh fell from Francis' lips. "I couldn't, Gilbert. I was outvoted with every decision." Now what was he going on about? Voting? Francis glanced back at the scowling German, surely seeing the anger literally sweating from his pores. "You didn't find anything about how the decision making in Eugenics works, did you?"

"No.", he spat, barely able to even look at his "friend".

"Maybe it's best that you don't learn."

"Maybe." Gilbert leaned back in his seat and allowed his eyes to glare out the window. They had already left the city, venturing off into the wilderness. He watched the treeline grow closer and closer, each towering plant growing nearer to its neighbour, and the two remained in silence. Their eyes didn't meet anymore. However, once the smooth road turned bumpy, Gilbert allowed his mouth to open once more. "Does Alfred know you work there?"

"He doesn't."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "And why not?"

At first, he hesitated, but eventually he gave into the German's question. "Because I'm a higher rank than he is. Technically, I'm one of his bosses."

Well wasn't that just peachy? Despite wanting to scream and rip a new hole into the Frenchman, Gilbert kept his voice to himself, choosing to vent out his anger by scratching the pristine leather lining the door. He could've stopped them if he really was the boss. He could've prevented a shit ton of things from happening to the poor Italian. What the hell kept him from doing anything? "Why didn't you tell the government about the shit that Eugenics did?"

Francis snorted, his frown deepening. "The government is paying Eugenics for its research. It's providing them everything they need for Project LISA."

Sneering, Gilbert propped his head on his hand, feeling each bump of the road through his elbow perched on the armrest of the door. "You said you would answer everything, right?"

"Yes. I did."

For about an hour, Gilbert interrogated his friend, finding out many things about Eugenics that he didn't really want to hear. They apparently found out about him hacking into the database, and were going to have him killed just like his brother, that is, if Francis hadn't of taken him from his home. He also discovered, though after many apologies and irate hisses, that Francis was the one who destroyed his computer.

At first, he only asked questions about the company itself, although all he found out that many of the scientists didn't believe in what they were doing, but rather, their families were threatened if the company's orders weren't obeyed. Everything else was rather normal for a company, at least on the inside.

Yet, soon his questions turned in the direction of Lovino. So easily, he could see the Frenchman's blood drain from his face. "What's wrong?" Gilbert half-teased. "You don't want to talk about the horrible things your company did to him?"

"I-It's not that."

Gilbert frowned. "Then what is it?"

"Remember when I said that Ludwig took the, well, new Lovino from the labs?"

"No, I already fucking forgot."

Francis scoffed, slowing the car's speed down to a crawl. "Funny. Anyway, your brother never ended that abomination's life. We lost Lovino shortly after that meeting a week or so ago."

"So what, he's running around the forest as a naked man or something? I'm pretty sure people will shoot anyone who does that."

"It's not that simple, Gilbert. This Lovino isn't human; he's the proto-type for the Queen's mate of the LISA Program. Probably the only who may have been successful if tested."

Queen? Proto-type? "Wait, was Lovino that worm in one of the pictures on West's phone?" Francis nodded as he flicked on the car's bright lights. "Let me guess; we're going to go looking for that worm in the motherfucking woods." Didn't he think that idea was virtually impossible? A worm? In a forest? Hell, a bird probably ate this new Lovino by now. Yet, from how white his friend grew as they drove down that dirt road, Gilbert began to think that there was more. But what was it? "What aren't you telling me?"

"Lovino…he's not in his infant state anymore. He's matured. I didn't think he was a threat at first, but today…today we found out why the proto-types were so enamoured to one human. I thought that he was just more caring than the deceased Lovino was." God, this man wasn't making much sense. "Hopefully we won't be too late."

"Too late? For what?"

The car slowed to a stop, its breaks screeching out into the night stained forest. Droplets from the previous shower still glimmered on the leaves of the surrounding trees, a few here and there trickling down with the slightest movement of the wind, although, the two inside the car were drenched in darkness when the Frenchman turned the car off. "There is… another reason that we are here." Francis began with a quiver in his normally smooth voice. "All of it is because of an uninformative text that was mistakenly sent to him. Eugenics saw him as a threat, and is ordering his death in a few days."

Wait. To who? Who the hell lived this deep in the for…est… Oh god… "It's A-Antonio?"

"Yes."

Gilbert could feel the warmth drain from his body. "A-And is Lovino with him?" There was only a nod this time. "And you knew?"

"I did."

"Why didn't you say anything? He's in danger; our friend!"

"I really didn't think Lovino was that much of a threat…He seemed to be taking care of Antonio, and I was more worried about you. Eugenics doesn't take any mercy on those they find hacking into their databases. I also had to keep them from finding out that Alfred was making it easier for you to gain access."

Gilbert bit at the inside of his cheek, holding back the snarls that wanted to escape. He understood, he guessed. Francis was trying to protect those he cared for. "You could've at least told me, you know."

That long blond hair twirled in the air as the Frenchman shook his head no. "You would've gone after Antonio. It would've been too dangerous."

"We could've helped him!"

Francis sighed, barely turning in his seat before he cracked open the car door. "It's not that simple. For all we know, he might already be dead." Using his foot, Francis pushed the door the rest of the way ajar before standing up, not sparing a glance for the German.

Snorting, Gilbert followed suit, not caring that he slammed the door shut once his feet were firmly on the ground. "So why are we there, then?"

Francis started forward, walking along the path. Gilbert followed suit. "We're going to rescue Antonio, and take him somewhere Eugenics will never be able to find him." The Frenchman reached back into the small area above his belt, pulling out a gun and checking for the ammunition within. "And I'm going to finish what your brother started. I'm going to kill Lovino."

It dark…dark.

Face… my face hurts. Wet. Can't…I can't think. Head hurts. Body hurts.

The ground… it's wet too. Metal. Smell metal. Smell rain… but it's not raining. My body hurts… too much. Hurt to move. Hurt to look.

It's dark…

I'm alone.

Alone… Where… where's…

No… Too tired to think. I want to sleep. Yes… sleep. Then…I find him.

Das ist nicht wahr… Es ist einfach nicht wahr... Ludwig ist tot. (That's not true. It's simply not true)

Mein Brüderlein wurde getӧtet. Er kommt nicht zurück. Er kommt nach Hause nicht. Mein Brüderlein wird nie wieder nach Hause kommen. (My baby brother has died. He's not coming back. He's not coming home. My baby brother will never come home again.)

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