AN: I... Don't know why this chapter is so long. :l Oh well. Sorry for the wait. I had finals. And yea. I've been working on that other fic too. A;;

Anyway, enjoy~

Disclaimer: ...Isn't it obvious?

Shit.

This wasn't good.

Germany ran through the house, slamming open doors and yelling repeatedly. "Dammit, Prussia, where are you? You must have heard of these fucking zombies by now. I swear, if I find you sitting on your ass playing some stupid video games, you-" He broke off, entering the TV room and finding no one. Funny, he was sure he had heard noise coming from here.

Germany examined the room suspiciously, noticing the TV was still on, showing the latest news on the zombie invasions. So that was the voices he had heard.

"... France is in complete chaos, and it is believed that every citizen throughout the country has been completely zombified. England and Norway as well, and we just received word that Austria has completely gone up in flames, though we were sure that there weren't any zombies there before..."

Austria. Shit. That was where Prussia had gone, most likely. He reached for the remote lying abandoned on the couch, wanting to turn off the depressing news report, but froze as the reporter announced yet another fact on the matter.

"It is believed that the zombies are headed for Berlin next, and a large van was seen speeding off in the direction of Germany-"

The TV screen went black as Germany felt his thumb press the power button. Staring blankly at the now silent device, the remote slowly slipped through his fingers to the ground.

They... the zombies... were coming here? But... why?

A large van... that must be Prussia. But then it was true, the undead were headed for his capital.

As if on cue, the blonde nation heard a screech of tires outside, and he ran to the window to see Prussia and some female nation he'd never met before climb out of a van in front of his house. They both were certainly were not looking their best, with their clothes torn and muddy. He was certain that the many dark splotches on Gilbert's outfit were dried blood, and by the gloomy looks on both of the arrivals faces, he knew that some dreadful happenings had occurred.

With a queasy feeling deep in his gut, Ludwig ran to the front door, throwing it open and running up to the pair.

They were speeding of in the direction of Germany. Not knowing what they were going to do after that Antarctica decided to take a nap and think things over.

'Okay, so France was attacked by zombies, Prussia and Austria showed up to save him, France went suicide off the Eiffel Tower, and now Austria is dead as well…' Her thoughts weren't that positive and all she could think of was this one question: Who was going to die next?

Prussia brought the speeding van to a stop and got out of the car. Alyssa opened her eyes and followed.

Outside, a tall blond nation was waiting. It seemed that Prussia knew him seeing as though he walked right up to him.

"What happened? Is everyone alright?"

Up close, they looked even more battle-worn. The woman's hair was matted, her face scratched and smudged with dirt. Prussia was still bleeding in various places, and he looked as though he had been crying recently, something Germany thought impossible.

"Bruder... What happened?" He asked quietly, his heart breaking as he took in the sad expression his brother wore upon his face. And then he realized.

"Where's Austria? Wasn't he with you?"

Exhausted by the past fight with the undead, and physically drained from all the crying he did, Prussia sank down to his knees.

"A-Austria... Isn't... " Gilbert looked up at his younger brother, close to tears, then finally answered.

"Austria is dead. He was attacked by zombies, and he's dead. Nothing could have helped him! And on top of that, I had to fucking shoot him in the head!" Finally, the tears came again, against his will. He didn't want to make it so overdramatic, but after watching one of the closest people to him die from a zombie infection, it was kind of something to be very extreme about.

Ludwig instantly regretted asking the question of Roderich's whereabouts upon seeing his older brother's reaction. Kneeling down, he embraced Gilbert in a gentle hug, wishing there was something more he could do.

The two nations had a short conversation and the Albino dropped to his kness and he looked like he was crying.

"Shh, I understand, Bruder. It's alright... just... don't hold back the tears, okay? I know you're not one to show weakness, but..."

The Blond told his so called 'Bruder' before hugging him.

Closing his eyes, he tightened his grip around the poor albino, hoping to comfort his brother, if just a little. Carefully, he stood up, still holding Prussia in his arms, and slowly made his way into the house, calling to the other nation standing quietly nearby as he did so.

'Are nations always this close to each other?' Antarctica asked herself before the other nation turned her attention towards her.

"Er... I'm not quite sure who you are, but please, get everything you need from the van and come inside, I'm sure the zombies will find us eventually."

"Oh, I'm Antarctica. And don't worry about me. I'm fine at the moment… Uh, could I ask you your name?" Alyssa asked before staring at the crying Albino, feeling sorry for him.

Making his way through the front hall and into the living room, he gently placed Prussia upon the couch, before sitting next to him, wrapping one arm around his older sibling's shoulder.

"Gil, I know it must be painful for you, but I need you to tell me everything that happened. Please, Prussia, I need to know."

Hungary walked down the front yard, closing in on the front porch of Germany's home. A shotgun hung from the belt of here green uniform. She had just stopped by Roderich's home a few hours before his apparent death to pick up a tape from one of the camera's she had hidden there. Upon watching the tape, she found that he had gone to Prussia's home, and went to get a tape from yet another camera (actually multiple cameras) she had hidden, to see if anything interesting had happened.

Having had her fill of yaoi of her 'precious' Austria and the albino she dared to call a friend, she had flicked on the news and checked her email to see what updates were to be had about the invasion of the living dead. An email from Kiku caught Elizabeta's attention. The Japanese nation rarely contacted her; why would that suddenly change? Keeping an ear open to the news, she took a look at the email. What she read made her suck in her breath and hold it there.

England… Norway… This couldn't be…

Tears flooded her vision and she put a gloved hand to her mouth, bringing her watery eyes back to the screen. She still remembered Arthur from when he was so small… How could he just… Something else caught her attention onscreen. At the images flashing, which had been filmed to show as little as possible of what was happening; she let her hand fall away from her mouth. Two pictures, of two different bodies, that had been taken afar to prevent the full details from being revealed.

'France… Austria…' She instantly recognized the clothes on the two figures. A bloodied purple cloak, long blond hair hiding his face, and blue barely visible through the chunks of flesh and the amount of blood, brown hair with a strand sticking up limply.

The Hungarian had dashed out of the house, grabbing her frying pan (though a frying pan would most likely serve no purpose other than to knock heads off of the living dead) and strapping a shotgun around her waist with ammunition on the way out in case she encountered any of the reanimated corpses. From there, she had headed straight for Berlin, having suspicions that Prussia was there along with whoever else he had saved from the chaos in that white van on the news.

And that's where she was right now, marching up the steps of the German's front porch, banging on the front door. She waited for two minutes, but being completely impatient at the moment and needing to talk to Gilbert now, Hungary backed up a few steps, and kicked the door open. Storming in, she called out to make sure they were even home.

"Gilbert! Ludwig! Are you here? Don't fuck with me! I know you're here!" Elizabeta called, storming down the hallway, looking for them. She found them in Germany's living room, stopping suddenly, mouth agape, staring at the spectacle in front of her. Prussia was… Crying! Hungary felt the sudden urge to laugh at him. She would have laughed too, if she hadn't known the reason why, but she knew all too well why the albino was crying with his brother comforting him. She wanted to hug him, tell him that it would be alright. She wanted to comfort the Prussian as well. But Elizabeta knew comforting wasn't what was used to get Gilbert to snap out of it and she thought about what could be done.

"P-Prussia…" Hungary took tentative steps towards them, not wanting to really ruin their little moment, but feeling like she needed to do something. Catching Ludwig's eyes, she walked up to them, knelt down in front of Gilbert, and…

Smacked him. And not just smacked him—she smacked him hard. The sound had resounded throughout the house and echoed slightly. The Hungarian was slightly amused at the expression received from Germany—one of pure shock. Watching Gilbert's slightly surprised expression, she patiently waited for a reaction.

The tears wouldn't stop. Prussia continued crying. Though it was his weakness... He normally wouldn't dare let anyone see him crying. He normally only went down to his place of stay, began writing in his journal, then... Cry at how pathetic he was.

Ludwig holding him made him feel a little better, but that didn't take away all the pain he had inside, especially from what he had done to Austria. He let France die as well, not getting there in time. Same for Roderich.

"... I was standing right there... I could have done something... But didn't... I stood there, watching as those damn zombies tore flesh from his ankle..."

Gilbert slowly regained his composure.

"I did nothing but stand there. Then, as I carried Austria to that bakery... I felt as though I should just give up... He was going to die, and I continuously told myself, and him, that everything was gonna be alright... When we got inside, we shared a last parting kiss, before he took a last breath... And died in my arms... I grabbed the gun... And... "

Prussia wiped his face with a clean sleeve. He was still crying.

"I shot him..."

Ludwig listened to his brother's retelling of the tragic events, torn between horror and grief. Austria and France... just... gone? Like that? He had just talked to Roderich on the phone the other day, but now? And Francis... He'd never cared for the man, but it still came down hard with the realization that he'd never exchange words with the French nation ever again.

He wanted to comfort Gilbert, he couldn't stand to see his brother so helpless, so vulnerable, but as he opened his mouth, he found he couldn't bring himself to speak. Pressing his mouth closed once more, he rubbed small circles on Prussia's back, wishing to convey his feelings through actions when words failed.

Prussia began sobbing again, leaning into his brother's chest. Hungary's yells were unheard by the Prussian. When he looked up, non-other than Elizabeta Hedervary was kneeling in front of him. He stared at her for a moment, waiting for something, a slight sadness in her eyes, tears forming in pity, but... Nothing.

A moment of silence passed, broken only by the heavy sobs of the ex-nation, but Ludwig soon realized there seemed to be a new presence in the room. Looking upward, he found himself staring at the nation of Hungary. Blinking in surprise, he realized some sort of acknowledgment should be voiced, but Gilbert beat him to it.

"I–I take it you go–"

He never finished his sentence.

SMACK!

A stinging sensation formed on the Prussian's cheek, not helping with his current waterworks. His head was faced to the side, cheek red and starting to swell. He just sat there, and took it.

Gilbert was silent, eyes wide, then slowly... He calmed down.

"E... Elizabeta..."

Did... did she just... slap him? Of all the things to do! Eyes widening, Germany slowly registered the fact that this was Elizabeta, after all.

"... What... why exactly did you just smack my brother in the face...?"

Hungary gaped, ignoring Germany's question completely. This had not been the reaction she had been expecting. No, in fact, she had been expecting the complete opposite of what she had just received. Where were the curses, the yelling; where was the anger that she had been looking for? Had he really just sat there and took her blow? It hadn't been just a smack to his face; she had been counting on it hurting his pride as well, and snapping him out of it.

Elizabeta sudden felt an overwhelming feeling of sorrow. She hadn't managed to cheer up her longtime friend, her former husband was dead, and some of her other friends were gone too. The world was being cruel, wasn't it? What had they all done to deserve this? A bitter smile formed at her lips, her eyes looking down at the ground.

She felt the urge to cry alongside the Prussian, but she couldn't allow herself to do so. Gilbert was at a low point, and she needed to be strong for both of them. She couldn't allow herself to wallow in self-pity or let herself weaken mentally. The trap that led to suicide would chew her up and spit her back out like some forgotten play-toy that it no longer felt the need to keep. She needed to stay strong so Prussia would not fall into that trap as well.

Elizabeta somewhat regretted hitting Gilbert now, seeing as it did no good. But what had he been expecting? Kind words of pity? Sympathy for his loss? Empathy, even?

She had lost friends as well. And they weren't the only ones hurting, she knew. The email from earlier already gave her knowledge that many other countries would be mourning over losses; America and the Scandinavians especially. Their losses might have even been small compared to the other countries'. Who else was dead that they didn't know about? What other countries had been overrun and turned into the living dead themselves? She didn't even want to think about a fellow nation reanimating into those horrible creatures.

But she couldn't allow either of them to fall into a pit of despair from which they might not even escape. How many soldiers had already committed suicide simply because they couldn't handle the stress mentally? How many more would follow? She couldn't count the losses. So there was no way Elizabeta would allow Gilbert to follow suit.

The albino looked just as, if not more, upset from before. Did her efforts account for nothing as she tried to awake him from a seemingly lonesome nightmare? Her eyes filled with determination, a fire sparked energy, allowing her to act instead of just think. Clenching her fists, she looked Prussia straight in his crimson eyes. She couldn't allow him to be so willing to give up; so weak. No words were needed, she decided.

Elizabeta hugged him, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulder, trying to provide some form of comfort. Breaking away from the hug, she let her hands rest on Gilbert's shoulders. Elizabeta looked him in the eye again before breaking eye contact and locking their lips together. The kiss didn't last long, but long enough for Hungary to start to run out of breath. She broke the kiss and leaned away, blushing at what she had just done. She let her hair fall down in front of her face, in a way, trying to hide. Elizabeta glanced up at Gilbert, wondering what kind of reaction this had instilled in the Prussian.

Sitting there... Prussia only thought of one thing. He should have given up when he had the chance. So many nights he sat in the basement, a bottle of beer in one hand, a razor blade in the other. Cuts were trailing up his arm; soon he would run out of room. Hardly would he ever wear short sleeves. When he did, he'd try his best to hide the self-mutilation that scarred his pale skin. This was all because he couldn't stand many days of people ignoring him, putting him down. The strongest always fall, and do so in a manner that no one ever expected.

This habit began when he was with Russia. All of the nights that he'd sit in front of the man, allowing Ivan to abuse him so. He tried to remember when he was happy, to no avail.

Now, his friends were dying, falling from their position as some of the toughest powers in the world. They were dying and he couldn't do anything. He almost thought of laughing, as all the people who hurt him emotionally were slowly dying out. Sitting in Germany's arms made him feel a little better, knowing he had someone to count on. Someone who would be there to make him feel better.

Gilbert looked into Hungary's eyes, telling that she was feeling sorry, sympathy was rolling in her head, trying to find words to say... But can't.

Suddenly, arms were wrapped around his shoulders, and Elizabeta was hugging him. He was surprised, but not as surprised as he was when she kissed him.

Soon it was done, over with. He sat there, silently, looking at the brown hair that hid her face, wishing he could see what expression was on her face now. He tried to gather words to say, but couldn't. For once, the Prussian wasn't the awesome being he once was. He had no comeback.

Drifts of snow floated down onto coal-black cobblestone pavement. They clumped together to form a thin sheet of ice that extended just past the heel of Belarus's leather studded military boots. A hushed murmur drew from the crowd huddling around an electronics store display window. Passing pedestrians stopped periodically to view current events broadcasting from the Western television sets aligned conveniently for the public, however, large gatherings were next to never.

Must be an update about the Infection, she thought. No sense of accomplishment tinged her body when the pixels proved her true. She kept a stoic structure; hands tucked away into the fur of her coat and her lips hidden away from any gales that licked her face. Blue-violet eyes reflected off the frosted glass that protected the sets of static anchors. News traveled fast. Great Britain bathed in blood. France lived in undead ghettos. Austria lay under poising skies.

"My, my... I seems as if I have taken the situation a too lightly."

Her platinum locks whipped through the mass. She wrestled her way through the crowd, their emotions mixed with sorrow and anger. The former murmur threw into a flurry of panicked questions and harsh yells. It disgusted her. Was that all they ever did? Yell and scream like mentally challenged, incompetent children? Even if Natalya had decided to not partake in the world crisis prior, what mattered is that she followed out her own preaching's.

However, she was subject to change her mind. This was a "free world," after all, as a certain rambunctious American would proclaim. New reforms would have to be made.

Before the depressing gray, he stood. Vash did not pay notice to the collection of drizzle accumulating amongst his locks, nor did he recognize Liechtenstein's umbrella being considerately raised above their heads. His thoughts wandered in wonder; whatever they did in this mysterious Finnish laboratory could lead to the end of this Zombie epidemic that devastated Europe. He was a strong believer in this. He would not hesitate to donate millions to this cause if he were to be impressed by progressive studies; however, if this were not to be the case, all hope would be as false as the success of Zombie testing.

He nodded, a gesture to signal their advance. Vash, Lili, and the trusted officials moved onwards, past the threshold of the security guarded entrance. An electronically generated double doorway acknowledged the group at the push of a button. Beyond the crystal encased frames was a dreadfully mundane space, occupied only by an abandoned office desk. Switzerland took tentative steps into the unknown, a trail of loyals crowding behind him.

Vash was only able to be led through the facility if accompanied by a guide, and he and his group were under strict orders to stay in the room they currently resided in if separated by said guide. The meet up was ordered rather hastily, pulled together at the last minute due to the urgency of the crisis. Ironic as it was, Switzerland felt a pang of irritation fire through his body at the man's tardiness. If he were able to meet rushed demands, Vash thought, then surely the unpunctual guide would be able too, as well! Switzerland was notorious for his impatience, just as his skilled handle for guns and his (no longer) permanent neutrality. Whether it was five or sixty minutes that have passed, time was of the essence, and no one would afford to lose a single second. Was this incompetent guide aware of that?

(Not) Soon enough, a pair of black polished shoes shuffled across the reflective white floor. The owner shifted his oddly desperate and worried expression into one that mixed into that of relief and an apology.

", I presume? I apologize for my late timing. Please, let's get started! We have wasted enough time as it is, yes?" The man graciously greeted the group with an exchange of traditional smiles and handshakes. Switzerland accepted the man's acts without protest and kept his annoyance bottled. Vash was, much to his discontent, at the mercy of this Finnish facility.

And so the tour proceeded. The group was led through weaves of hallways, through numbers of elevators and stairways. All of which were flocking with scientists and officials alike, in contrast to the desolate countryside that skirted the facility.

There were several different spacious rooms that were accommodated according to their own special services. Each of which were equally disturbing. A room held thousands of gallons of water within a tank, with specialists keeping track of the Zombie's actions. Water seemed to have no effect on the undead, whatsoever.

The second room had a fifty foot pit, encased with special glass that would be able to withstand hell rising temperatures. This was so, as the purpose was the measure the Zombie's fire resistance. This particular element was able to dispose of the common enemy at certain temperatures only. They said that they were considering the mass destruction of Norwegian invaders to be wiped out by something as drastic as nuclear weapons. The subject needed to be further looked into, however.

Other rooms held research towards behavior of Zombies towards other Zombies, tests to determine which gases affected the undead, and tests to determine which of the five senses were enhanced and which deteriorated.

What they really wanted to work on, the guide explained, was what components were found inside of the actual Zombie. This was a necessity if they wanted to obtain a cure or a vaccine if a person were to be bitten (it's different if the person is ripped limb from limb, of course). Samples were taken from the dead Zombies, however, samples from the undead would also be better if they wanted to create an accurate treatment. Various other tests were left undone due to a tight grip on funding. The reason why Vash had gone through the trouble to get into this facility was to determine whether it wouldn't be a waste of his currency, and thus far, things were pointing in a positive light.

Hours drifted away. Scientists gathered together to converse with the dozen officials that accompanied him and Liechtenstein. Their trusty guide departed with the group for unknown reasons. The man left in a hurry, trying desperately to hide his anxiety. Despite the awful first impression and the guide's suspicious actions, Switzerland was considering pouring money into this cause. He would have to discuss this with Lili, of course.

His sharp eyes were meant to fall upon his little sister; however, they caught hold of something else. In the dim hallway in which Vash turned his back to, a creature crouched behind the corner, attempting to keep away from sight. From what his mind was able to uncover was a lean body, cladded in raggedy clothing. His heart nearly imploded. It couldn't have been a Zombie—it would have been making its way towards the obvious noise leaking from the room. His BPM lowered after this revelation. What was it, then? Ignoring Liechtenstein's confused looks, he edged his way towards the foreboding hallway…

Vash acknowledged her answer with a curt nod, and with that gesture, the small entourage moved forward, out of the solemn gray of the raining skies above them and into the even more solemn shadow of the facility. It was crazy, Lili assumed, but she could almost have sworn that each meter of progress they made towards the building, the air became a little bit colder... She shivered again and barred her thoughts from such a ridiculous idea, though her fingers unconsciously grasped the handle of the black umbrella ever tighter as their steps brought them closer and closer to the place that maybe, hopefully, held humanity's chance.

They were admitted through the double doors at the press of a button, and the girl shook off and folded the umbrella before making her way inside. She followed close behind Vash as they entered, footfalls echoing eerily off the tiled floors. Their guide (the one her brother had told her they would be meeting) was nowhere to be found, and in the minutes that they lingered, she took the chance to study their surroundings.

They were in a sort of lobby, she assumed, though it held no sort of welcoming atmosphere as she usually saw in hotels or offices. If anything, the metal chairs with their thin, gray cushions, walls devoid of any sort of decoration aside from the occasional window and the empty reception desk only added to the general feeling of cold menace. As she examined the room lit under too-bright fluorescent lights, she thought it looked very much like a prison.

Feeling no more reassured by her brief survey of the area, Lili stole a glance at her brother, hoping to gauge his impression of the facility. She caught him just as he glanced down at the silver watch he wore around his wrist, a frown etched on his face, and she realized that he was getting impatient. The small country knew him well, and she guessed that he was irritated with their guide for his tardiness, especially in a situation like this, where time was precious, and moving at too rapid a pace for their liking.

Lili began to feel slightly apprehensive herself as if the anxiety was contagious (how long are we going to be standing here? has something gone wrong? please, please, let this place have what we're looking for—), but she swallowed and tried to dispel the tight feeling in her chest. Seeking to offer some form of comfort to the tense blonde beside her (and in some ways, to herself), she reached out to lay her hand on his arm.

Before Vash could react, however, the sound of footsteps drew their attention to the hallway leading further into the building, and from there appeared whom Lili assumed would be their guide. He was a middle-aged man, gray just beginning to paint streaks in his hair and she thought that he looked rather harried, if his nervous smile and quick apology was anything to go by. She did not think further into it than that—if this institution was aiming to make a good impression, surely they would be anxious, no? Although she judged that their guide's tardiness was already a strike in her brother's book.

The man approached their group with his hand extended, and both sides exchanged introductions and greetings, Lili with a small smile though Vash was curt and sharp. He wanted to begin the tour as soon as possible, and he couldn't stand the time they spent lingering at the doorway. The guide seemed to share that sentiment, as the formalities were concluded quickly, and then they were being lead through the heavy doors that connected to the interior of the facility, where, the girl presumed, the experiments were conducted. She stared a moment at the intimidating entrance, swallowed her nervousness, and followed the party through.

Gruesome. That was her first impression.

The guide at the head, the small crowd walked the long, winding corridors of the institution, filled with staff and personnel. They were shown various rooms in which a zombie's resilience was tried, viewable through glass more resilient than it seemed. Fire, water, gas—the possibilities were all tested here, and though Lili had to admit that she was impressed, she found herself diverting her eyes from behind the viewing windows.

They were dead, she knew, worse than dead, and yet she couldn't repress the part of her that was repulsed by what was being done to them, repulsed by the creatures themselves, and mourned the human who had once possessed the body that was now no more than a flesh-devouring corpse. Trying to ignore the slew of uneasy emotions that swirled in her gut, she took up analyzing her brother's reactions.

He was pleased with what he had seen in the facility, the quick and efficient manner in which the tests were carried out, the level-headed answers and theories of the employees. He was seriously considering investing money into this research—Lili could tell by the way he pressed the staff with questions, nodding when satisfied with their answers, occasionally demanding that one of their own officials jot down something of importance. If he was fully pleased with the progress being made, she didn't doubt he would be able to convince his government, and hers as well, to fund this facility. She still didn't like this place—would never feel at ease there—but she realized what this building held could be vital to the world.

A few hours in, the tour was halted in order to give both parties a chance to discuss, and the conversation rose and fell in English with varying degrees of accuracy. Sometime during the mingling, the guide had disappeared though the girl was not aware of that fact, unlike her brother who had remarked upon the man's hurried departure with a sharp eye.

Her attention was drawn to Vash himself, however, when she saw that he had separated himself from the group, and was taking slow steps into a darkened hallway to the right. Lili furrowed her brows, wondering what he might be after. Had he seen something? Growing slightly curious herself, she followed behind, abandoning the lights of the main room to trail after him. She walked briskly, slowing only when she had caught up to the other.

She strained her eyes to peer through the darkness, gaze passing over containers, boxes, trash-cans, and a table pushed close to the wall. She could see nothing out of the ordinary, and she was beginning to wonder if Vash had merely wanted to speak in private when her eyes finally landed on a crouching figure, clothed in tatters, partially hidden by the bend of the hall.

An alarmed gasp made its way past her lips as her hand shot out to clutch her brother's. Was it one of the undead? Though her rationality argued against such an absurd idea, her imagination provided her with a sequence of images of the figure launching itself at them, of what light there was shining on a dirty, rotting face, of teeth sinking into her flesh—or worse, Vash's.

And at these depictions, her heart beat faster, breath coming out quick and shallow, apprehension squeezing a tight fist around her torso. If Vash had not kept moving forward, Lili probably would have frozen on the spot, but as it was, he continued in his long strides and her legs reluctantly followed. Her voice finally came back as they approached the shadowed corner, and she whispered a breathless "Bruder..." channeling all of her anxiety into that one title.

She wished to tell him that maybe this was not a good idea, they had no idea who or what was awaiting them, and they should inform the officials who were chatting away at that precise moment behind their backs. This did not have to be their problem, they could just turn around and walk away and leave it to the staff of the facility to take care of it, they didn't have to be involved, they should turn around before that figure noticed them—

But they were too close to pass unperceived now—Lili could now make out the square jaw and strong nose of an older man—when his head suddenly snapped towards them, eyes widening, and she jumped at the sudden movement, unconsciously gripping her brother's hand tighter. They had finally been spotted, and she had no idea what would happen now—would they be attacked?—because that thought still refused to go away even though the man's reaction had been all too human.

The three—one human and two distressed countries—stood stock-still in silence for a moment, wondering how much a threat one posed for the other. Vash was tense beside her, hand at his hip, and no doubt he was missing the weapon he usually kept holstered there, which had been confiscated earlier on. Lili was standing rigidly herself, prepared to react at any sign of menace from the figure in the corner, even if she had no idea what it was she could do (fight? run? and what if he went for Vash—?).

They were saved the deciding course of action, however, as it was the man who moved first, but his maneuver, though not what Lili had originally feared, complicated their situation no less. He raised a finger to his lips, shaking his head frantically, the gaze locked on those who found him desperate and imploring. The fear in his eyes struck a chord in Lili, and suddenly, she was unable to ignore his request that they keep his secret, even if by no means did she trust him.

At the very least, she thought, they could be reassured about his humanity, though why he would try so desperately to stay concealed was a question that eluded her, and the absence of an answer was unsettling. She had no idea what to think, now that they had been spotted. That selfish part of her reared its ugly head once again, insisting that they turn back and alert the officials, because this man was trouble in one way or another, but she pushed it aside, and looked to her brother (her better) for guidance.

"Bruder..?" she repeated again, softer, a question in her voice. 'What do we do? What do we do with this man? What do we do with this facility? What do we do if the very worst happens to this world? Oh brother—what do we do about us?' Those thoughts, they went unsaid and hopefully, unknown, by Vash—as far as he knew, the only thing his whispered title meant was the questioning of their actions at that moment, and she was okay with that. Right now, those answers weren't needed. They could wait—and hopefully by then, it wouldn't be too late.

The soles of his leather dress shoes were silent as they cautiously shifted their host towards a sketchy figure confined in the black of the hallway. Vash's hand left arm was held slightly astray, signaling his sister to stay in the safety of his backside. It was safe to assume that whatever creature lurked a few steps away was not a Zombie, but the chances of it being of equal threat were uncertain. Perhaps it was a spy that came to dismantle the foundation of this institute, Vash thought. A final lunge brought the two countries face-to-face with the unknown, and both parties were drawn senseless. It was not what Switzerland had anticipated at all.

Vashs' analytical jade eyes flickered up and down the shady figure. The tatters of cotton hung loosely around a skinny frame. Bubbles of scars and white patches were the impurities found along the strange man's exposed skin. His head was shaven, and a five o' clock shadow graced the man's defined jaw line. His cracked, thin lips were separated just the slightest. The nostrils of his pointed nose flared in anxiety. His bony fingers, popping with veins, curled and scratched the wall that supported him. His black eyes shook with defeat and pure terror.

The two nations were flabbergasted. Not what he was anticipating at all. Following upon instinct, Vash swiped at the particles of air that occupied the area beside his hip. Dumbfound for only a moment, his memory jogged back to the moment upon his arrival—when all of his treasured firearms were confiscated. The man raised a fist; Vash flinched. The suited nation tensed his body and shifted to ensure maximum protection over Liechtenstein. However, the man surprised the two nations once again. From the fist protruded one index finger, held centimeters away from his pursed lips. The man's shaven head shook frantically from side to side, begging the two to remain silent. Vash was speechless.

Questions sent the Swiss into a spiral of disarray. His wide eyed younger looked cautiously at Vash. 'What are we going to do now?' His glance travelled from Liechtenstein and back to the mystery that desperately pleaded for an absent sounded hallway. He could not leave this man as he was; Vash had to discover this man's back story. Only one solution broke through the masses of choices—Vash shot out an erect right arm and grasped the man's neck in a stern lock. A piercing gale of air broke through the man's lips. The dominator quickly led the prisoner towards another corridor to increase their stealth. Vash didn't want anyone interrupting this vital interrogation session. He shoved the man into the wall and loosed his grip, just enough to allow the man to speak properly.

His gaze intensified, burning through the sockets of the man's half-open eyes. They flashed with blurs of despair. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" The man made no adjustments in his structure. He looked as if he were about to burst out in tears any moment. "Answer me!" Vash hissed. The others' black eyes stared into Vash's green pupils in fear and confusion. A collage of mumbled, panicked language was the man's only answer to Vash's questions. Switzerland's blood began to boil. This man is hopeless, he thought. He grounded his teeth together, considering the thought of turning this idiot to the authorities.

However, before we could do such actions, a soft hand fell onto his right shoulder. Lilli stood behind him, her facial expression mimicking the man's; worried and confused. His mind eased. Vash scolded himself for being too rash. Surely there were other ways to coerce an answer from this man. He tried to identify the mutter given only seconds earlier—it didn't seem as if what the man said was in Finnish. Did this man not speak Finnish? Vash's fingers curled around the man's neck. "Speak up!" He spat out his command in German, Italian, Swedish— his persistence was rewarded when his words dawned upon a language that he had not bothered to take extensive studies in; Russian.

"P-Please…! Let me go! Please!"

What was a Russian man doing in this Finnish facility? Vash pressed the man. "Answer my questions and I will be merciful. What are you doing here?"

Skinny finger scratched aimlessly at Vash's iron grip. "I—They… They brought me here!"

"Who is 'they'?"

"Them—! The… soldiers brought me here. They took me and brought me here…!"

Surprise left Vash's mouth agape. He regained his superior composure and continued. "Where are you from? What are they doing to you?"

"Fr—From Belarus. A prison house in Belarus… they took the whole wing and brought us here t—to be… be eaten alive by those horrible monsters! Ripped the shreds, tortured—they say that it is for the better, but what better does this do? I have seen my fellow prison inmates tossed into a pit of death by those people without a care. Even an innocent man would be thrown in there without a second thinking. Old, young—those scientists only want to waste our lives—!"

The darkened veil of the corridor they previously occupied dissolved in a flicker of florescent lights. Vash could make out the panicked yells of their tour guide. "Where is Mr. and Ms. Zwingli? Find them! Find them, quickly! Damn!" Shuffling feet echoed throughout the hall, and soon they would meet with the trio. Vash's heartbeat accelerated. God knows what would happen if they were found—killed, most likely. Information as dramatic as what the Belarusian revealed was to be kept under lock and key under all costs. "Shit!" He grabbed a hold around Liechtenstein's thin wrists and pulled her along. He took off down the corridor. In desperation, the man followed them.

AN: Review! :D