Chapter 28: Don't Die a Hero
Francis dodged another well-placed stab, cursing in his mother tongue. Hand-to-hand combat had never quite been his specialty – it was far too personal. Not that he was against the invasion of personal space, that wasn't it at all, he just hated to watch as his fist was slammed into the body of another living being drawing blood to the surface of the flesh to form a bruise. He hated the feel of another person's fists and feet upon his own flesh, the dull thud of the blow being taken in by the natural shock absorbers of the body. The knife flashed out at his throat, sending him doubling down into a crouch to avoid it.
The woman wielding the weapon was beautiful, he couldn't deny it. Even as she lashed out at him with her deadly precision, he found himself admiring the slender curve of musculature beneath her pale flesh, her snapping, storm-colored eyes, her dancer-like grace.
He rose, then ducked too slowly, the blade kissing his cheek and leaving behind a trail of scarlet.
"Merde."
From somewhere behind him, a gunshot sounded. The young woman's piercing gaze snapped onto the threat, plump lips pursing in fury.
"You. What have you done?"
"I took care of your friends, lady." was the cocky response, one that only the American could have given. "And now I'm takin' care of you."
"Stupid."
It was then that Francis noticed the blood seeping from between the pale fingers of the ash blonde. She groaned low in her throat but remained standing to glare at Alfred.
"We won't forget this."
And with that, she whirled and limped away to find her fallen comrades. The Frenchman heaved a slow sigh of mingled relief and disappointment.
"Quel dommage. I should have liked to have met with her in a more casual setting."
"Dude…" The bespectacled youth raised an unimpressed brow. "She was trying to kill you, and all you can think about is dating the psycho bitch?"
He shrugged. "She was very beautiful, oui?"
Alfred simply returned the Colt to his waistband with a disbelieving snort.
"You guys okay?" His brother popped his head out of a nearby classroom, the beginnings of a bruise darkening his left cheek.
"We're cool, Mattie. The hell were you?"
"Taking care of the details you overlooked." Matthew glared at the slightly older blond. "Slow down a bit and do things right, eh? I'm tired of cleaning up your messes."
He smiled winningly. "Aw, c'mon… The hero always needs backup."
"Feliciano!" The familiar voice was sharp but pleading, something the albino had never heard before. Inching forward, he raised his handgun and approached the source the cry.
Gilbert's eyes widened as he peered into the room. The door was opened just a crack, revealing only a sliver of the situation within. However, he could see enough to know it was time to make his move. He lowered his shoulder ever so slightly, preparing to shove the door open wider to allow his entrance. It would take him a moment to actually take up aim at the strange man holding Feliciano, but if he played it right, he could kill him with only minor damages. As though to make its point, his bullet wound throbbed, reminding him of its presence. Weight shifting to his toes, he took one last deep breath.
"Put it down." The order was hissed into his ear, making him start. He hadn't heard anyone approaching, but the pressure between his shoulder blades assured him of the other's existence… an armed existence, at that.
With a defiant smirk, he dropped his weapon as he whirled to face his attacker, arms raised and hands opened.
Clakk.
Yong Soo's head snapped around when the familiar racket of gunfire met his ears, his broken concentration serving as the opportunity so desperately needed by the German. Within a moment, Ludwig had reached his former charge and was prying the gun from shuddering hands.
When the Asian man turned back, he found himself confronted with a lethal-looking blond. For the first time since he'd begun his revenge, his resolve wavered, heart pounding in his chest and belly as his knees shook. He remembered the look of those eyes – icy and intense – but now they burned with a rage so pure that he could feel it.
Slowly, he spread his arms, dropping his own weapon as he did.
"Go ahead, Ludwig, do it." He smiled. "Just don't miss."
"Wait!" A long-haired girl swept into the room, blood splattered almost delicately across the fine features of her young face. "Stop!"
"Meimei?"
She ignored the two Europeans entirely as she bowed her greeting. "Yong Soo, please come back with me."
"What?" Face twisting to reveal disgust, fear, and pain, the Korean gestured sharply with his pistol. "I'm not going back to that bastard Yao. Never."
"Not Yao, with us: my brother and me." She stepped closer. "The head of the Triad is old, too old, and conceited. He believes himself to be untouchable, and my brother believes that the time is ripe to rise up against him."
Yong Soo hesitated, biting his lip. Before he could open his mouth to respond, a hole had appeared in the side of his head, blood and brain matter exploding outwards to cover the surrounding individuals. Feliciano gagged softly, doubling over with dry heaves that told Ludwig he had nothing in his stomach. Before the girl could respond with a shot of her own, her young chest was decorated with her own blood. She staggered slightly, pain and shock written across her face in scarlet, before she crumpled into a motionless heap on the floor.
Covering the brunet's eyes with his own shivering hand, Ludwig lifted his gaze to the doorway of the room.
"You heard him." Gilbert panted, a cocky grin setting his lips into a twisted arc. "He's never going back."
"Bruder!"
He bobbed his head. "Hey, West. You guys okay?"
"We're fine…" His response died in his throat. There was blood collecting on the floor around his brother's feet, the large droplets falling from a wound in his abdomen. Already the pale, almost-translucent skin of his hand and forearm was dyed scarlet as he struggled to keep the pressure on.
"Feli? You're good, right?"
Even as horror flared in his eyes, the Italian nodded weakly. "Prussia, are you okay?"
"Just awesome." His voice rasped unnaturally and brought blood to his lips. "Go on, you two. Liz and the others are waiting."
"Gilbert!" The woman appeared as though summoned, charging towards them with wild eyes. She'd been suspicious when he'd suggested their splitting up again, knowing that – despite his outwardly careless appearance – he was a natural problem solver with a mind like a super computer. Not only was he a tactical expert, he was also an older brother with a protective streak as broad as the Oder. She'd fooled herself into believing that he loved himself too much to put himself in danger, so nearly forgetting that he was, after all, a Beilschmidt.
Shoving Ludwig and Feliciano forward, he told her, "Take 'em and go, Liz. I'll catch up with you later."
"Bullshit." The woman took Feliciano tenderly by the arm, nodding pointedly at the younger German. "Get your brother; carry him if you have to. I'll take Feliciano."
Ludwig quietly complied and looped the albino's arm around his neck.
"I'm just gonna slow you down!" he insisted, "Just leave me here, I'll be fine!"
"Shut up, Gilbert." Elizabeta spat. Slapping him full across the face, she hissed, "You're not gonna die a hero. Not today."
Two more chapters and an epilogue~
Quickly, I'l like to point out that I really didn't want to kill Korea. Honestly. I didn't originally think I would. However, as time passed, I realized that if I made it a "No, let him go free, Germany~" ending, it could be seen as a cop out. Plus, Taiwan just but a hole through Gilbert's stomach and I didn't think he'd be all too forgiving of that...
