Chapter Twenty Four

"Hey, it's okay now. There's no need to cry, Feli." Kiku awkwardly patted the brunet's shoulder as it shook with gasping sobs. But instead of being comforted, Feliciano uttered a small wail and buried his face in his hands.

"Dead," his voice was barely audible with his hands pressed against his face. "Another one, dead."

"Feliciano…" Ludwig sighed, but it seemed like nothing could stop the Italian from mourning.

"Dead," he repeated. "Arthur is dead, and we couldn't even do anything. We've never been able to do anything and it's not fair!" They let him rant to himself, the others not knowing what to say. The Tank felt even emptier now that another one of them was gone for good. Sadik and Feliks squatted in a corner away from the trio of friends, one staring at the white tiled ground and another with his eyes closed behind his mask and hands clapped over sensitive ears to attempt to block out the sobs of frustration and grief.

But Sadik had spent enough time around the mentally unstable blonde to recognize a numb silence from a contemplative one. And the only reason Feliks would be silent without a thought in his head was if he believed that there was nothing to think about.

So the blind man said to the boy who could foresee the deaths of everyone, "You knew for a long, long time." It was not a question.

It took a few moments for Feliks to answer. "Yes. Everything became so clear when Emil came into the Tank and Arthur was determined to use him to escape."

"And he did. They both did. Just in different ways."

"I don't know which way is better." Feliks leaned back against the cold walls with a sigh, glaring up at the white ceiling and pale lights. His tone was grave even as he asked a ghost, "What do you think, Liet?"

But it was Sadik who answered. "Toris would probably want you to go the opposite way from his, and Lovino's, and Arthur's. It's not a pretty path. None of them went easily."

"But I don't know if I want to go the other way, away from them." Feliks closed his eyes, his voice quiet. "I think… I think if I go down that road, it's just going to, like, lead me back to where I was before, or, like, where I am now, and Sadik, don't you think that'd totally be the worst thing that could ever happen? After all, the Underworld is like a labyrinth, and I doubt we'd, like, ever be able to escape it. 'Once you're in, you can't get out.' Isn't that what they all like to say?" He cracked open one lazy, emerald-green eye to shoot the brown-skinned man a challenging look before relaxing and closing his eyes again. "But, like, I think… Don't you think that… if, like, we die here, in the lowest level of hell, the only way we could go now would be, like, up?" He reached blindly with one thin, sickly pale hand towards – not the ceiling, but the faraway skies beyond it.

"Up, towards paradise."

Tino did not wake up in a trashcan, much to his relief. He did wake up next to a trashcan, however, which was better, though not by much. His head throbbed, but it wasn't horrible, until he reached up to examine his skull and a finger poked something that sent pain spiking through his senses and washing his vision with black and red dots. He might've fainted again if his phone didn't start buzzing in his front pocket, and more by instinct and habit than sense, Tino pressed the answer button despite the caller being an unknown number and lifting the phone to his ear with a lead-filled arm to hear-

"-14 times, Tino! I've called you 14 times! What do you think you're doing, huh? According to a creepy, anonymous caller, this is urgent! And I don't know what you've been doing – sleeping or something, because I've called you 14 times! You better explain yourself well, young man, or else-"

All the shouting was fueling Tino's growing headache, and he groaned quietly, leaning back against the alley wall, still hidden from the outside world by an overflowing trashcan. "…Äiti…?" Except he didn't have a mother…

There was a dramatic sigh from the opposite side of the line, and what he finally was able to identify as Vladimir Popescu's voice said, "As much as I appreciate you calling out my secret, maternal side – not – but I'm actually serious. This woman I don't know called me around half an hour ago and told me I had to contact you. When you didn't pick up I thought you died! What happened, Tino?"

A woman…? And then suddenly, the memories slammed into him like a truck. Berwald. Natalia. Emil and Mathias and Lukas.

"Popescu!" Tino shot to his feet, but swayed and had to use the wall for support when his head protested and the world flipped several times. The words did not stop flowing from his mouth. "We need back up. Now."

"Back up?" Vladimiar was both puzzled and perplexed. "There is no back up, not anymore. If we had any allies, China crushed them nearly three years ago."

"I know that," Tino snapped back, unusually irritated. "I was there! But it doesn't matter, we need back up. For heaven's sake, there's got to be somebody! Alfred F Jones! Use him to get them here to Australia. You're a trader, for heaven's sake! Use your contacts!"

Tino could almost hear Vladimir wince. "Well… I could contact Antonio and his friends, but I kind of already owe him one…"

"Then it's on me." Tino gave himself a quick check-over and found himself relatively presentable. He discarded his white lab coat into the trashcan and swerved out onto the street, easily merging into the crowd of businesspeople heading home with his formal clothes and brisk appearance and stride.

"Fine, fine." There was a short pause as Vladimir drew in a deep, nervous breath and blew out slowly. "Care to explain, Tino? Is another civil war breaking out?"

The former scientist contemplated the possibility for a moment. "No. Not yet, at least." A strangely sinister smile stretched over his lips. "But perhaps, very, very soon."

Because it seemed like in the end, no matter what happens between then and now, a killer will always return to the slaughter field.

The Sydney Opera House was truly a sight to behold. By day, the structure was pearly white, gleaming majestically in the sunlight. When night arrives, lights situated all around the architecture paints color over the white surface, keeping it aglow. Even during the awkward period of time trapped between day and night, when it was too bright to turn on the lights but too dark for the building to be able to show off its complete glory, the white and pale beige tiles pieced together to form the opera house's outer shell managed to catch the faintest bits of light from the blood red sun and ocean blue sky to create a completely different, yet still beautiful, view.

Regretfully enough, those were not the thoughts that ran through Lukas's head as he gazed at the architectural wonder in front of him, absent-mindedly listening to his brother repeat, "I promised them, Lukas. I promised to free them."

And Mathias just had to add solemnly, "A man should never go back on his word."

But it wasn't about honor! It's the danger, and the memories, and the pain cut from watching blood spill and waiting for miracles that never arrived. "I can't let you go back there," said Lukas softly. "Not after everything they've done to you."

"Because of everything they did to me, I have every right to go," Emil corrected. "The people in the Tank helped me. They helped me, not you, not Mathias. Me. Lukas, I have to go."

"It's not safe-"

"Nothing is safe anymore! And I doubt anything will be after all this! You're injured, I'm not; I have abilities you don't have. If there's a person who's not going, it's you."

Lukas's jaw clenched, his dark blue eyes remaining stubbornly fixed on the Sydney Opera House not far from them. When he spoke, it was more of a whispered breath than actual words. "A long time ago, I promised to protect you. I promised to keep you safe. I watched my parents choke to death on their own blood." My parents: not ours, because Emil did not remember enough for them to feel like his as well and Lukas was not in the mood to share. "I watched the killer threaten to take you too, and never. I will never let that happen again." And finally he looked back at his younger brother, those blue orbs impossibly blank and carefully concealed and wiped of any emotion. Emil thought that his brother suddenly seemed like a stranger, and it frightened him, especially when Lukas stumbled backwards onto a bench and closed his eyes because he was in pain but didn't want to show it. "Except it is too late now, isn't it?"

"It is." But the pain might finally convince Lukas to let him help his friends and pay back all the debts he had made in the short time he was in the lab. A heavy hand patted him gently on the shoulder, and Emil looked up to see Mathias giving him a silent nod. The tall blonde sat down next to Lukas and wrapped an arm around his shoulders – so narrow and bony compared to Mathias's muscular bulk.

"Even if you don't go," he was murmuring quietly to his friend's ear, "I will go with him. I believe I also have a pact to fulfill."

"I'm surprised you even remember." Lukas was desperately trying to sound lighthearted, but his inner conflict cracked through. He opened his eyes, staring up at the darkening sky. "Fine." Emil's heart leapt, out of joy or nervousness, he wasn't sure. "But I'm coming."

"Of course you are." Mathias chuckled.

Lukas shot a glance at Emil and gestured at him to come and sit down next to the two older boys. "And I think… if we are going to invade the Underworld – again – we should have a plan. A good one this time. No more barging in with no idea where we are or what we're doing except for a faraway, indefinite goal. We need supplies, and we need allies. I want an outline before we go badass." And it sounded so unlike Lukas that Emil almost laughed, except a timid yet familiar voice piped up cautiously behind them.

"If you want a plan… we may or may not have one."

"Say, Oz…" The brown haired man turned when he heard his name quietly called by his cousin, who was still and tense with a faraway look in his eyes. Oscar himself wasn't exactly relaxed either – he couldn't stop fidgeting and staring at the clock at the corner of the café they were sitting in – but their minds are obviously on different things. "About that boy…"

Oscar, groaned a little, but it wasn't annoyed, more nervous and tired. "Again? This is the third time you've mentioned him."

"I know, I know." Kaelin swallowed, stroking his stuffed sheep. "But it's about his brother. I met him-"

"On the streets, yes, you told me already."

"He stumbled into me-"

"I know, you told me already."

"The point is," Kaelin huffed, annoyed by the interruptions, "he was injured. On the leg."

"So?"

Now, his voice quieted to barely above a whisper as he told Oscar, "If I didn't know better, I would have thought that he had been shot."

Oscar's eyes swiveled around to stare at Kaelin, finally giving him his full attention. His strong Australian accent became more prominent – if that was even possible – as he lowered his voice to match Kaelin's. "But… you know better…?"

"His leg was bandaged," Kaelin described, "But it was only one strip, wrapped twice around a single area, which meant the wound was small. But judging by the amount of blood, it was deep. If he's still able to move his leg and just barely walk, that meant his tendon is fine, but the muscle is damaged. So either somebody had stabbed him on the leg, or somebody shot him."

"Gangs?" offered Oscar weakly, and Kaelin shrugged.

"Despite what we do for money, I don't think I've ever faced a gang before, so I guess that's one possibility. Wonder why they didn't knock him out after injuring him though; he had no head injury, although his hand also seems to be injured: it was wrapped as well. If it was a gang, why did they let him escape, even allowing him to stop and wrap up his injuries?" He shrugged again. "I don't know." Despite Kaelin's neutral tone and body posture, it was obvious that he disagreed, and Oscar knew it.

"Fine," was all he said before glancing back up at the clock and tensing because that discussion was only a distraction and they had more urgent businesses at hand. "Six thirty," he told his companion, and both of them paled. Kaelin's hands were visibly trembling as he picked up his cup of coffee and sipped with tight lips; Oscar scratched his nose, nearly peeling off the decorative bandage stuck across its bridge, and he took a deep breath, muttering to himself. "Stay calm, act natural. It's just another meeting with another person. You have the upper hand. There's no need to panic."

Except they did not have the upper hand, even though she came in alone and nearly unprepared.

Oscar and Kaelin felt as if the temperature inside the café dropped several degrees when she pushed open the door and slipped in casually. She was dressed like any other businesswoman let out from a long day of work: her black suit and white blouse were immaculate, her brown curls slicked back into a casual yet elegant bun. Her steps were filled with a steady confidence, accompanied by an ominous clicking of her heels, and her smile was gentle, if not warm as she surveyed the room.

And saw them.

Her green eyes glinted cruelly as she zeroed in on the two nervous men; she slung her Gucci handbag over the back of her chair and quietly sat down. Her proud posture demanded respect and fear, and their little corner remained tensely silent as she pulled out her cell phone and gently, quietly, placed it onto the wooden surface of the table. She did not order anything, instead staring at Oscar and Kaelin as if they were her next meal, and she was simply playing with them. She crossed her long, thin fingers, forming a little net where she rested her chin, her red painted lips widening into a playful smirk.

"Hello, gentlemen," Magyar purred. "Let's talk business."

Hi! It's somehow already April! Somebody's birthday in my community is in April, but I don't remember the exact date and who. Either way, Happy Birthday! 誕生日おめてとう！Bonne anniversaire! (I'm pretty sure it's one of you, anajadenx and shadowell, so you should be able to understand at least one, right?)

Either way, I'd say I'm 40-60% done with the planning of Finding Mathias, but the story is getting seriously complicated and I've been confused for the past two weeks, trying to untangle the mess.

This is a filler chapter that was surprisingly difficult to write, but I'm quite happy with the way it turned out. Some details are quite crucial too, as you'll find out in Finding Mathias. But thank you for sticking with this story, thank you for reading, and please review!