CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Misery

The first gunshot went off, then a second, then a third. His eyes jolted open, the unforgivable taste of blood lingered in his mouth. He felt like vomiting right then and there, but it would only cause the surroundings to become fouler then they already were. That along with the pain that coursed through every part of his body only made the situation even worse.

He struggled to move; the smallest twitch or flinch caused agony and added to the lot of his misery.

The shots continued to be fired in succession, eventually dying down and stopping as the madness calmed, for the most part. Any other noises were, as far as he could tell, muffled as the walls were just far too thick to allow them to crawl through the cracks and cause more ruckus.

It was by that point in time that Lanzo was finally able to bring everything together in the best manner he could muster. His body stung and his legs were numbed to the point where he doubted blood would ever be able to flow through their veins again. Vital fluids covered his clothes, and the front of his once white hoodie was now a disgusting rotted red. His shirt was every bit of useless now, it had been torn to shreds and was barely covering his cut-covered and soon-to-be scarred chest. He couldn't move his arms to wipe the blood from his lip, knowing that by this point that the flesh was cut and the cause for a majority of the crimson substance on his chin. The rest however was from the wound located on his head, and any other lacerations the abusers managed to conjure up.

He had to give them credit at the very least, they had done their job.

They tortured him into oblivion, receiving nothing more in return than the satisfaction of brutalizing the traitorous scum that used to wear their colors and claim their name. Giving him what he deserved and stating that he was asking for it. Though he was unsure whether or not he could agree, their words stung and their insults stuck. It was those small things that made his experience ten times worse and he hated it.

But now all he had left was the pain and everlasting thoughts of worry and doubt as he struggled to grip reality altogether.

He feared the things he lacked knowledge of; he couldn't help but wonder, how many had died? How many were suffering because of his mistake? Were they all engulfed in another form of hell that they couldn't break free from, no matter how hard they tried or pleaded? It was questions like these that caused him to feel sick to his stomach, and only created more problems to agonize over.

Lanzo jumped a second time, once again at the sound of a gunshot followed by a muffled noise he could only figure to be a cry of pain.

What is going on out there!? He wondered, being able to conclude that either Feliciano had attempted a second escape, or their so called "base" was under attack. By whom he suspected the counterparts but he wouldn't have doubted if it was a S.W.A.T. team instead. He always wondered why those hadn't simply been called in in the very first place, it would have saved a lot of time and hassle after all. But he figured it was only because he was stuck in a universe where actions were manipulated by stylized font put down in strings of commands that took hours to write.

That or the counterparts really weren't as rational as they seemed.

. . .

Luciano smiled when he rounded the corner and Oliver was there, as he had asked. The Brit spotted him rather quickly, jumping upon discovery.

"L-Luciano! I didn't expect you to come back here," Oliver gulped, knowing that he was doing poorly at appearing convincing. The Italian only continued to smile which caused a shiver to flow down his spine. He knew that expression, it is the same one that Luciano always wears when he was about to do something devious.

"I'm only checking to make sure that everyone is in line. How are you doing Oliver?" The Italian twirled his signature knife as he questioned, the other becoming more and more uncomfortable as this encounter drew on.

"Fine, j-just fine. Uhm, how do you do?" Oliver added at the last second to make this conversation seem a bit more casual. Something about Luciano's attitude hit him as strange and he was sure that the sadist was slowly catching onto the ploy him and Jean had tried so hard to establish with Lanzo's assistance. It was obviously crumbling in the process.

"Oh just well. I'm so glad that we managed to capture Lanzo before it got too out of hand. Now with him and Kuro out of the picture, there's nothing in our way. Wouldn't you agree?" Luciano hummed, stopping his knife twirl midway and catching grip of it between two fingers; his middle and index. Oliver nodded quickly.

"Y-yes of course!" he exclaimed half-heartedly. His attention reverted back and forth between Luciano's eyes and the knife in his hand. He continued the motion of twirling, this time heading in the counter direction and almost seeming twice as fast. The Italian's attention was driven elsewhere however, his expression showing an off-in-the-distance look.

"You know Oliver," he began with a hint of contemplation in his tone.

"It seems like Lanzo isn't working alone. We didn't get too much out of him but he did say that he had accomplices. We're not sure who yet but would you happen to have an idea?" Despite the lie he was spewing to the other, they seemed almost completely convinced with his words. It was obvious that Luciano had a near natural tongue when it came to being deceptive. He had managed to fool so many in the past, this was no difference.

"N-no! Not a clue," Oliver stuttered out in a reply, hiding his arm behind his back to make his shakiness appear less obvious. He wasn't sure if Luciano was buying it, but there was truly no way to actually tell. The Italian's expression had refused to change ever since their encounter began, and he wasn't sure if it was ever going to.

"Odd, though he did manage to hint to various physical characteristics of said person. Accordingly, they are around 5'9" and have a distinctive accent; one that can be easily picked out of a crowd of people. Seemingly they have an innocent, sometimes alluring smile that is used to hide some of their less... favorable traits. Their weapon of choice is small, generally handheld and is occasionally hidden from sight with much ease." Luciano paced back and forth as he described the character, avoiding any form of direct eye contact with Oliver who slowly started to grow more and more nervous as the description was laid out.

Each and every feature pointed closer and closer to his own appearance, and he knew that you only needed roughly half the brain Luciano had in order to figure out who was being featured. However Oliver questioned why Lanzo would betray him, even if it was in such a vague manner. In fact the slightest thought that the man would give information at all while knowing their dire situation was outright suspicious.

"You know Oliver, I think I may have just come up with an alternative for our little… predicament." The Italian mused once the rotation of his knife had stopped. He turned on his heel to face the Brit, his sinister grin nearly expanding.

"Let's play a game."

. . .

Leonardo strolled down the hallway, nonchalantly humming to himself a song that brought back old memories as he tinkered with his gun. He found that Sebastian's words and his actions had snuck their way onto his train of thought without his consent and simply refused to get off... he couldn't help but feel as if said Spaniard had played him for a fool.

There were numerous reasons for his suspicions, and he only intended to learn whether or not they were true, he knew that his former keeper would very well do such a thing in desperate times.

However, if in the end his brother had truly requested for his arrival then he preferred to avoid infuriating him any further, as he'd be happy to avoid a fight with his sociopathic younger sibling. Still, why his brother wanted Lovino alive was a whole other topic on it's own and he questioned it with every ounce of doubt in his mind.

It bugged him so much and he just wanted to learn of the truth. But he knew he'd have to wait before he managed to get what he wanted.

He was sure of that when he arrived at the front of the household, as instructed to do by Sebastian himself, and the other Italian was missing. Nowhere to be seen of course, and Leonardo decided all he could do for now was to sit and wait until the truth was to be revealed.

The two's less than stealthily approach at a "get-away" was easily noticed by watchful eyes from across the room.

Not only had they gone and snatched the rifle that had been left on the counter with a couple boxes worth of rounds, but they had also nearly slammed the door shut whilst the commotion was going on in the living room.

Of course no matter how loud or obnoxious the surroundings were, Elizabeta and Roderich could still easily spot Gilbert and Ross with their abnormally colored hair, sneaking out the front door. The fact that the others took little to no notice of their obvious "creeping around" was rather disappointing, but they made no comment and instead took matters into their own hands and traveled down the same route that the duo had previously with intentions of following them.

At first they had lost all visuals of the people they were tailing, but it wasn't long before they caught sight of them again.

They were moving quickly, obviously appearing very suspicious to bystanders but hid the rifle well enough as to not draw anymore alarms. Ross held it against his side vertically, keeping it as far under his armpit as he could and making it seem less than obvious. The last thing they wanted after all was to be stopped midway by police officers and then spend the day in a jail cell.

Roderich couldn't help but contemplate whether or not leaving without telling the others was a good idea, and if what these two intended was legal to any degree. Elizabeta only shook or nodded her head in an answer before hushing her companion.

It didn't seem like either Gilbert or Ross noticed the two following a good distance away, but at that point in time it was basically indeterminable. They also wondered if they should have brought a weapon themselves, as they really didn't have anything aside from a pocket knife and whatever else they might have in their pockets.

Up ahead Ross and Gilbert sped up their pace, not that they noticed the two tailing them but more or less because they wanted to arrive as soon as possible and avoid any form of encounter with bystanders.

Sebastian had hauled the smaller Italian off to a more secluded area of the premises. He was breathing heavily but his unconscious state allowed the Spaniard a much easier and seemingly pain free instance to tend to the inflicted wounds.

The main points of interest were the bullet and blunt force wounds that had been established on his mid torso and the back of his cranium. To what extent the injuries were could not be completely determined, though he knew they were major and that his minimal amounts of doctorial abilities at this point in time would not suffice.

But he did what he could and aided to Lovino as he saw needed.

The Italian would likely not be able to return to the fight any time soon, but that didn't change the fact that he was willing to. In the case that he did his death with imminent and Sebastian wasn't about to allow him to foolishly walk into his own demise. Leonardo had already gotten far too close to causing the removal of one existence; the death of another would likely cause a mishap.

Something that he knew nobody was truly prepared for.

Sebastian brought Lovino into the sleeping quarters. With the madness going on above no one would bother coming in here for the time being. He placed the smaller onto his own sleeping mattress and briefly inspected his bandaging. Nothing had torn; his chest was fully wrapped as was his head. The only thing he knew was that upon his awakening he would be experiencing excruciating discomfort that could scarcely be suited with pain medications that they were supplied.

However Sebastian also had other needs he had to attend to, which were currently being put off to the side due to this unexpected encounter. He hadn't known Leonardo would go to such an extent when it came to his counterpart, but he learned to beg to differ.

The Spaniard fell out of his thinking process once the body next to him pushed into his side, likely unintentionally.

Lovino was slowly coming to and the expression on his face was slowly shifting from his previously calm and seemingly peaceful one to an agony filled mien. The Italian started to squirm, whimpering and moaning in anguish. The pain was becoming more and more obvious with every second as he awoke. His uncontrollable shakiness was something that only added to the discomfort.

Lovino started to roll to and fro, nearly slipping off of the mattress in the process. Sebastian held him down with a firmly placed hand on his shoulder, knowing that blindly moving around could cause him to sustain more injuries and ravel in more pain.

"Calm down ratón. Your injuries are too extensive for brash movements, unless you want to experience more pain I'd advise you sit still." His words were barely noted by the other, as they were mainly muffled and only the movement of his lips really signified that he was speaking. Lovino struggled against his grip but his strength combined with the throbbing agony kept him in his place.

He opened his mouth with the notion to speak, but not a single word came out. His voice seemed to be gone with his throat sore and his head enduring an unbearable ache. He dropped the idea altogether and lowered himself back onto the mattress.

It was at that point that Sebastian let go of his shoulder with the tension dropping and the room falling silent. The commotion going on above ground was all they really heard, aside from the occasional sounds that escaped from Lovino's lips. They ranged from groans and whimpers to moans and cries. Sebastian gave him aspirins but those would only do so much, and until they kicked in Lovino was stuck in his own little pool of misery.

. . .

"W-What are you doing?! St-top!" The bindings were tight, tighter than desired. It was definitely going to keep him in place no matter how hard he tried to break free. In fact any attempts to get loose caused an unbearable constriction on his arm that forced him to stay in place.

His arm was tied onto a flat surface, to be specific one of the wooden tables that was of use in the area. He was forced onto his knees, the surface far too close to the ground for him to stand up and still be comfortably placed. Not that it was easy in the first place, but raising his midsection would only increase the amount of pain he would be forced to endure.

"Is this really necce-" he was cut off, not another word slipping out before his own voice was muffled.

"Oh~!" Luciano started, knife at the ready as he forced Oliver's fingers apart. There was a good half to a full inch of space between each, the Brit already knowing what this was leading to. He had anticipated it from the start, this was something he often did with various victims he had to interrogate and otherwise.

"I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop chop chop." Luciano sang as he stabbed the knife into the spaces between Oliver's digits, the blade just barely avoiding the skin each time, yet becoming increasingly closer with every word.

"If I miss the spaces in between my fingers will come off," the knife blade slit the side of Oliver's index finger, he bit his own tongue to avoid making a sound. Luciano promised a less than peaceful demise if he were to draw unwanted attention.

"And if I hit my fingers," the tip of the knife landed on top of another one of his fingers, specifically the thumb. Though not excruciatingly hard it did create a small gash that stung with intolerable pain.

"The blood will soon come out." This time he intentionally stabbed one of Oliver's fingers, though it was more of the joint which connected the ring finger to the actual hand.

"But all the same I play this game 'cause that's what it's all about!" Luciano's grin grew as the haste slowly but surely increased. He was now intentionally hitting every finger that was intended to be avoided. Oliver knew that the Italian had both the skills and precision to avoid actually hitting the digits; he'd done it before at incredible speeds, but at this point in time he only planned to do harm and that meant that no finger was to be left unscathed.

"Oh~!" Luciano began a second time; his grin grew once he spotted the expression on Oliver's face turn. He knew the next verse far too well.

"Chop chop chop chop chop chop, I'm picking up the speed." Luciano was pulling this off better than Oliver had hoped. The tip of the knife tore into the upper half of the skin while the edges of the blade cut into the sides. Overall his hand was scattered with slashes, small and large, all stinging with unbearable discomfort as the torment continued.

"And if I hit my fingers," Luciano raised the knife once passing the pinkie finger, obviously intending to do a mess of damage to the entire hand in one swipe. "…then my hand will start to bleed~!"

With the flick of his wrist and the pull of his arm, Luciano dragged the knife across all five of Oliver's fingers within and instant. A long, obvious cut disgorged blood onto the table as Oliver cried out. Tears were on the brink of his eyes, but that wasn't even the worst part of the onslaught; the worst was what Luciano chose to do next.

Despite having already done so much damage in the small amount of time he was with Oliver, he just didn't seem to be fully satisfied with the outcome and decided to finish off with a "bang".

Raising the knife high, he brought it down with immense force that met its mark. He punctured Oliver's hand, the knife-edge cutting through with ease as the stab was backed up with enough force to cut through the bone and muscle altogether. Oliver couldn't even scream before the knife had traveled through fully and then stuck into the table. It was after that that Oliver broke down into a mess of sobs and pain as he raised his other arm in a futile attempt to pull the knife out of his hand. Blood spewed out of the now open wound and Luciano got up, grin still on his face.

"Ben il sonno bastardo."

. . .

"Shit!"

He landed hard on the ground, back first with his knees in but his arms out. His palm was the first to impact, but the jolt from the force was enough to pop something in the joint. Andrew banged his head into the concrete floor as he held his hand. However with a tight squeeze and a moment of discomfort it was back in place as it should be.

Andrew jumped back to his feet, facing the American which he nearly towered over. Their fight had gotten violent quickly, both of them now with some form of wound that poured blood.

Alfred's nose had been broken once again while Andrew's forehead now had a gash from getting punched a few too many times.

This fight was definitely going down a different path than their first did. Alfred was obviously dominating with less slip ups and more hits. He was the most focused he had ever been in a while, and it was obvious. He was attacking when he knew it would count, and stepped back when he could tell it wouldn't. He was overall tactical and prepared for the worst, obviously expecting the fight to go into a different direction but still enjoyed the way it was now.

Though, that could not be said for everyone.

This fight was brutal and, at every rate, unfair. Kuro was defenseless against Kasper's brute force and strength. His small frame could easily be lifted with little resistance and thrown around with ease. At this rate he was nothing but a rage doll and the overwhelming, flowing taste of blood inside his mouth was disgusting and tasted terrible. He had nearly vomited multiple times and the fact that his stomach was quite literally being tossed around was no help.

Kasper seemed to have resorted to using the wall as more of a weapon than his actual knife. He would slam and throw Kuro into the concrete surface with incredible force, and it was a miracle that nothing had actually broken yet. Of course it was only a matter of time before something did; Kuro assumed that by that time something would happen that would put him into a more dominating position in the fight. Until then he was defenseless and knew he could not count on his 'companions' to be his back up.

They obviously had more important matters to attend to, and assisting him was very well on the very bottom of that list.

As for the duel going on between Ludwig and Viktor, it was relatively eventful. The Russian was definitely taking a more forward approach to the fight, trying to wound Ludwig mainly with the blade of his shovel but occasionally using the blunt end to push him back or knock his sword to the side. He was aiming for a few disarms but they were harder to achieve against such a quick weapon, one where his opponent could easily slip away or stab out at any attempts.

Ludwig, however, was mainly looking for openings whenever Viktor shot his attack out too far, to the point where he struggled to recover as quickly, but these were harder to spot than others. Not even mentioning the fact that he hadn't used a rapier in a relatively long time, and that his degree of skills had dropped since.

He had to constantly reflect on the few skills and abilities that Gilbert had taught him with occasional help from Roderich and Elizabeta. They were fuzzy memories but he had to depend on them now more than ever before.

He was also convinced that if they saw him now, struggling to stand his ground against an opponent, they would likely laugh. Though this was an unfamiliar scenario where he fought against an enemy which he never once crossed paths with, one who had such a native form of fighting compared to what he was used it, he knew they would yell at him to adapt and get the hell over it.

Because in the game of war complaining will only turn you into a corpse in the ground. A figure, silenced forever and encased in a wooden box to never be opened. Nothing better than a forgotten memory by those that loved, and an unknown one to those who never cared.

Ratón = Mouse (Spanish)

Ben il Sonno Bastardo = Sleep Well Bastard (Italian)