Chapter 36: Оранжевый: Orange
"You're directing attention to yourself, Alec. Straighten up," Dmitri stated. His voice was rather calm even as he pressed himself back against the masonry, glancing around the building's corner to watch the soldier standing guard at an intersection.
There had been frequent posts at heavier traffic points; cars were stopped along checkpoints, pedestrians were questioned for information on the wanted criminals they searched for. Magadan's police force was cooperating with the soldiers to set better blockades along the exits of the city, and they definitely were thorough in their search.
They had been skirting around the entire damn city like this- running and ducking behind cars and buildings, trying to stay out of the open. No doubt Matthew had given a description of Dmitri already, and Alec's face was known. Hijacking a car or continuing on foot wouldn't serve them any better; a vehicle would be faster but not necessarily stealthier.
Dmitri and Alec knew they didn't have much time left before an entire lock-down was put into effect, and it seemed like the soldiers were slowly closing in on them despite their rush to get to the docks seen in the distance.
Mihailov didn't know how they were going to get passage onto a boat with this kind of security, but Alec seemed to know what to do, even with his deteriorating health.
It was too bad the pain medicine was wearing off. Alec felt weak, his sense of balance was off, and a loss of blood made him pale and dizzy. He could hardly move his right side without the white hot sparks of intense pain. Dmitri had, for the second time, braced the man from falling like a fool, grumbling out an insult as he did so.
And no matter the Russian's state, Alec was still able to carry that attitude; "Sorry," he replied sarcastically. "If I could just stop the fact that I got shot, I'd be more willing to play along."
Dmitri sighed. "Yeah, well, if you hold me back, I'm leaving you."
Alec snorted, collapsing into the hard masonry and letting it hold him steady. "Like you can get back on your own."
"I can too!" Dmitri hissed.
A fine eyebrow raised in question. "My bad, I didn't know you were so familiar with the streets. Tell me, what are you going to do when you get on that boat? Go tanning on the top deck?" He laughed weakly. "Nah, either you hide in a crate and suffer the long twelve hours it'll take to ship you down to Japan… or you haggle with the captain. Give him your watch and he'll probably let you steer the boat too."
"This watch was my father's; I'm not giving it to a dirty sailor!"
"Hiding in a crate it is then…"
"What if I told you I could drive a small boat?" Dmitri asked snappishly.
"Can you?" Alec replied with a doubtful tone.
"Yes, I did inherit a yacht from my father. It's back in Sochi, but I've traveled there once or twice-"
"Can you actually sail, or did you get someone else to?"
"You'll find out when we get there," he scoffed, looking back around the corner to see that the soldier patrolling the streets had moved on. "Let's go."
Dmitri slipped around the building, head darting back and forth to make sure he was still clear. Alec followed shakily, not even bothering to duck down in a better attempt to sneak. In fact, he kind of chuckled at the way Dmitri walked, finding it hilarious that he would try so hard. It only made him look suspicious. "Why are you so terrified anyway?"
"Why- seriously? You ask me why- unless you don't recall, we're wanted by the entire Russian army! The American, and German too!"
Alec frowned. "How do you know you're wanted in America and Germany?"
"Because I saw them at the hospital."
The Russian behind him trailed in silence, following calmly, with a little stagger as Dmitri darted across the street quickly, trailing behind a small collection of pedestrians- a better attempt at blending in with the crowd. "I don't understand."
Dmitri gritted his teeth, turning around to glare at his partner. "You don't need to, don't question me now when you've never done so before."
"Well, our deal is over now," Alec reminded the man. "I don't have to go any further with you, D. In fact, I'm starting to think I'd be better off finding my own way back to Moscow- especially as you think you can handle getting back on your own."
Dmitri's entire form paused in the next step forward, and with a hesitant spin, turned his golden glare onto Alec. "You were going with me to Moscow- that's where your money is."
"Da, but I don't have to go with you, so long as I get there. You have a lot of heat on you right now-"
"So do you! You think they don't know your face?" Dmitri snarled.
Alec shrugged one shoulder. "We'd have better chances if we split. If you can drive a ship, go get one, I'm fine finding my own way."
Dmitri regarded him coldly, observing the slumped form, the bloody hand that held his half-assed bandaged shoulder. They hadn't necessarily seen a doctor when they were at the hospital. There were too many military officials, and after they ran into an American and two Germans… Dmitri's paranoia would not let them remain for very long. He recognized those faces- he knew who and what they were.
A strong dose of (stolen) medication later, and Dmitri was anxiously dragging a dazed Alec behind him. Now that he looked at the man more clearly however… he was starting to doubt his plan.
Alec was his right hand man- a body guard- but as wounded as he was, he would be no good in a fight. The next thing he was good for: information and experience on the streets- might not be worth having if he continued to attract attention with his injury. He was confident he could sneak onto a boat by himself- how hard could that be? And… if he couldn't find a simple boat he could operate on his own, he would sell his priceless watch, though he could sense is father roll in his grave for the disrespect.
He could do this on his own…
It was just… despite all of that…
Alec waited for a reply, and when it didn't come he frowned.
Brown eyes narrowed, not just from pain or irritation, but in an intense observation of something he wasn't sure he liked. Dmitri was not just paranoid, he was nervous, fidgeting in his place, golden eyes rather wide as he glanced around him. Alec knew the Russian particularly well enough to see the out-of-character way he hesitated.
Alec spoke wisely, the suggestion of parting ways was the best option, and the one that would insure a better survival rate- Dmitri was stubbornly refusing to see reason…
He huffed in amusement. "D, you aren't scared are you? I guess all that bullshit about dying honorably-"
"I'm not afraid of that! I just wanted… I wanted that book in a reporter's hand before I died, damn it. All of this is particularly shady. I'm not exactly familiar with-"
"Being a little insecure without your precious money and bodyguards, right?" Shaking his head, Alec sighed, leaning against the wall heavily. "Don't you have another copy somewhere- a plan B? Come on, D, that's not like you."
"I do," Dmitri replied flatly. His gaze watched Alec's face with a certain determination that confused Alec. "In the vault that contains your money…"
A scoff of annoyance. "Naturally."
"I want you to give it to Peter when you get back to Moscow-"
"No way, Dmitri-"
"Alec!" he hissed. "Do it."
The man looked away with a scowl, but no further protest came forth- it was too exhausting to argue with Dmitri as he was and Alec decided to take this request as the wish of a dying man. Either of them, or both, could die this day, and if that was so, then he might as well let the disagreement rest.
It certainly didn't help that Dmitri was seconds away from saying a single dreaded word that started with a p (please). As much as Alec would tease his boss, begging was just a step below pathetic, and it was not like he had anything left to lose.
"Fine. I'll take your stupid book."
Dmitri's shoulders sagged in relief. "Good."
"In return though, you better get that money where it belongs, if I can't."
"Yes."
There was a moment of awkward silence between them then, Dmitri frowning in thought, Alec resting to regain his energy.
Once the money he had earned from this job was delivered to its intended owner, Alec really had nothing else to do with his life to tell the truth. With his life-goal fulfilled, he wouldn't protest to helping Dmitri with his.
On a more sensitive note, Dmitri was all he had known personally for the better part of his dark life. While the man may have gotten on his nerves greatly during his employment, Alec couldn't help but like the man on some messed up level- simply because he was a constant. Always there, always annoying, always needing something.
He felt needed, and for a lonely street rat that was a nice, comforting thought. Dmitri never treated him like a charity case, never pitied him, expected the best from him, and didn't bother to hold anything back.
"Thank you," Dmitri said.
Alec's eyes darted up to the brunette's face, surprise and confusion clear in his expression at the statement.
"You really did help me. With my father's past, and my future. So, good luck to you and your sister."
"Y-yeah. You too."
The Russian had turned away by then, chin high, back straight, as if he didn't care that his words of appreciation were heard or even returned. And Alec had to grin, because no matter the situation, the position of nobility, or their relationship towards each other- he knew Dmitri was no longer as hopelessly lost as he had been, and Alec was not as lonely.
Like babysitting, Alec affirmed to himself, and he realized he was going to- if only a little- miss his former boss.
…oOo…
Matthew's head peeked out from the tarp covering the back of the jeep, one hand behind him waved away Alfred's suggestion of staying inside the vehicle and within sight at all times.
Russia had commanded the best of his crew to remain behind and protect the injured Canadian and his polar bear. Although, with six representative Nations, hardly any would be needed, and Matthew told Ivan such- had practically ordered the Russian to take at least half of those men with him instead. That had at least worked, but Matthew was not satisfied. A part of him worried relentlessly, and in the past hour and a half that Russia had been gone, that anxious feeling had only multiplied.
He found those two soldiers just a few yards away, speaking to a rather beautiful woman in respectful tones as she asked questions. "B-belarus," Matthew called out softly. The conversation halted as Natalia looked at him, a frown crossing her lips. "May I speak to you for a m-moment?"
Canada bent down, preparing to slide over the tailgate to the snowy ground below. However, the two Russian men were quick in their rush to his side, offering assistance which Matthew hesitantly took. The snow would be rather cold, but he had been given boots and a large black insulated coat to wear as well.
With both soldiers' strength, Canada was smoothly and gently set onto the ground, his balance assured before they released him. The care they showed surprised Matthew, and he smiled at them, giving out a "Thank you" in Russian for their trouble - their help was unnecessary but appreciated nonetheless and they practically beamed at the attention.
Russia must have really emphasized on the importance of his health and happiness…
"What do you want?" Natalia's emotionless voice broke the somewhat friendly atmosphere, and Matthew remembered what he had come out there for.
Stepping past the two Russian's, Canada cleared his throat awkwardly, unknowing where to begin. "Um… T-thank you." Light violets shyly met a dark blue. "For helping Kuma-"
"You already thanked me," Natalia interrupted.
"Well, I w-wanted to do it again." Matthew shrugged, casting his gaze back to the trampled snow beneath his feet. "Why didn't you go with Russia?"
"Vanya did not wish for me to come, he can take care of this himself."
Matthew frowned. "Dmitri should not be underestimated."
"He is a simple human. You can't possibly believe Ivan would lose to such a thing!" Natalia sneered, insulted by the idea. Her brother was a super-power and her confidence in his strength would not allow even a hint of doubt to sneak within her realm of possibilities.
That's not to say Matthew was unconfident- he knew Ivan was strong; had admired that very strength for many years. Russia was a powerful and experienced Nation no mortal human should be able to beat- the idea was laughable. However, Dmitri's state of being was not what worried Matthew so.
"Ivan would not lose, but… that's not Dmitri's goal. He knows things he shouldn't, Natalia." Canada shoved his hands into his pocket, nervous about the way Belarus glared at him. "Please, I'm worried about him-"
"What do you propose to do? Go after him?"
"… oui."
Natalia's dark eyes stared intently at him for a good minute- assessing his hunched form, the eyes that would bravely meet hers before wondering anxiously to his surroundings. "Your relatives will not allow this."
Canada shrugged. "I can take care of myself. It's Kumakun I worry about."
"Indeed." Natalia let out a scoff of annoyance. "You've proven your strength so far," she growled sarcastically.
"Look, I asked for your help because I know how much you care for Ivan." Matthew stated, his voice now holding an edge of anger to it. The stuttering fell away like it hadn't been there at all, and his nervous fidgeting halted in its tracks. Those violet eyes narrowed on her face, his back straightening with importance. "I won't go into how unhealthy that obsession is, but I know you'd do anything to keep him safe. I'm telling you, letting him go after Dmitri alone was a bad idea."
"Vanya will be angry with our interference-"
"Then never mind," Matthew snapped. "I'll go myself; just give me the keys to a vehicle."
He held his hand out for the said keys, a slight glare on his face- it was a look full of determination and suggested, obviously, that Canada would do this with or without Belarus' assistance.
He did not fear Ivan's anger at going against his wishes, she realized, and wondered if that was foolish. However, his reasons for carrying out such disobedience were far more troubling; he would sneak off, in his condition, to protect Russia.
If something bad happened to Canada, Natalia knew her brother would be hurt even more so. His wandering off alone should be prevented at all costs; if he would stubbornly insist on going after Ivan, she would not be able to stop him.
With a small, almost unheard sigh of agitation, she retrieved a set of keys from her thick coat. Taking the military jeep was one option, but Canada's family residing in the back would never allow him to leave the safety of the hotel parking lot. Another option was to take Natalia's Rolls Royce, small enough to be inconspicuous without the glaringly obvious military relation to its presence.
"Вы двое!" The two Russian men on guard stood at attention for the woman. "Пошли." Then she turned on her heel, and Matthew hesitantly began to follow, seeing the soldiers behind him do the same.
A small smile crossed his lips as he marched through the snow next to Natalia. "Thank you."
She hummed uncaringly. "Do you have a plan, or are you so stupid as to run off without one?"
He wasn't even offended by that, grinning at her as he walked around the shiny black vehicle to the passenger side. "I'm not like my brother, you know." He slid into the leather seat slowly, still aching, but rather pleased at the rapid rate of his healing. Now that his body could properly move and function, it seemed that all his strengths and abilities finally returned in full force.
He could feel Kumajirou's rising health as well, and that, above all else, relieved him the most. The polar bear would be recovering for a long while, and he surely needed to be watched over carefully, but Matthew could feel the difficulty in breathing ease.
Belarus slipped into the driver's seat gracefully. She looked very strange at the wheel of the luxurious car. Matthew had the feeling she didn't drive very often, and she had to adjust the seat and mirrors to better suit her height.
"Do tell me this plan then," she stated coldly, glancing to Canada expectantly. The Russian boys climbed into the back, speaking excitedly as they looked around the interior.
"Dmitri said something about a death camp around here; his fascination with it was disgusting. That's also near the piers, right?"
"Yes, it is," she murmured.
"Then let's start there."
Just as the ignition began to purr to life, the soldiers in the backseat pointed out the window, calling something out. In the next second Canada's door was flung open and a foreboding aura filled the vehicle as Matthew hesitantly looked up.
Cool blue eyes regarded them with a startlingly blank expression and all Canada could think was: busted.
The blond opened his mouth, ready to protest, give an explanation, or plead the American to see reason- but a hand held up firmly, cutting the words off before they even began and Matthew felt like a kid being scolded. "Yeah, don't even," America stated. "Get out of the car."
Canada frowned, glancing around his seat; maybe looking for an appropriate response. He knew what he had to do, and he could not let Alfred stop him, but what could he say? How could he make him understand?
"You idiot!" Matthew's gaze snapped back up, past America's form to see England marching through the snow towards the car, looking livid. It took another moment for Canada to realize those words had been directed to him… "What part of stay here do you not understand?"
France, who was trailing behind the Brit, fretted in concern; "Arthur, don't yell at him, I'm sure there is a reason for this, oui? Mon petit Mathieu is not so reckless."
"Yes he is! Obviously!" Arthur snapped back, but a second later, as he arrived next to the American and closer to Canada, the red tint of rage in his cheeks receded. His voice was still stern and angry, but Canada knew England was only worried, not really mad. "Get out of the car now, lad. It is better to rest, you're still recovering."
"N-non," Matthew replied. It was a little difficult to deny his family when all three of them stood there so protectively.
"Yes," Alfred growled back. "Before I drag your ass out."
"Alfred-"
"No. You have got to be insane if you think I'm letting you out of my sight again. "
"Please, something's not right, Ivan could be in trouble."
Alfred leaned in, those expressive blue eyes shining like gems- filled to the brim with determination, worry, frustration, anger, and a sense of sadness. They focused intently on Matthew's face and Canada swallowed thickly, anxious at the attention. "I don't give a shit whether Russia is in trouble," he told Matthew flatly- harsh truth and cold fact. "You're my little brother- way more important than him."
Canada paused, heart leaping in his throat as he processed that sentence- that word; important. Dieu, how long had it been since someone had told him that? Well, technically Ivan had said it back in the hotel- so twice in one day! That was… shocking to say the least.
"America is right, Matthew. Russia can take care of himself, you are the priority," England affirmed.
"Oui," France piped up.
Canada's eyes widened, looking back and forth between the Nations there. Astounding... He didn't know if he was going to cry from the sudden relief of finally hearing those words or get all sappy and hug the three men (really, he shouldn't be such a baby about this kind of thing- he'd always known they cared about him).
He decided to stave off on the tears, but hugging? He couldn't stop that.
America stumbled back (more out of surprise than anything) and reflexively caught his brother to keep him steady. With his arms wrapped around his middle and face buried in his chest, half of his body remaining in the car still, and it looked rather uncomfortable. "Uh, Matt?"
"Thank you," the blond mumbled into the faded blue T-shirt America wore. It had a musky smell, a hint of cologne and spice; Canada had forgotten how warm his brother was too. Like a miniature heater- and he recalled the times they slept together as children; the way Alfred would always chase away the cold of winter. The times when they both would crawl into their "parents'" beds, and Matthew would be surrounded in warmth and happiness, even when times grew difficult between them.
There were times his brother acted like the most obnoxious, ignorant fool in the world. America wanted to be involved in everything, the center of attention and love; his views on how to solve all the problems in the world were warped, but he tried. Nobody could say otherwise, but if you did, they would be surprised to find he was just as scary as a snapped Russia when angered.
Arthur might just have been the most controlling and hypocritical Empire there ever was (though many would refute that), he was difficult to read and work with. His views were strong and he was stubborn and determined in keeping the old traditional ways of doing things. Quick to anger, with a fierce way of paying back what he felt was due, and a scathing tongue that would make you feel as small as a immature child when he was done with you.
Francis was the most aggravating instigator of many arguments and battles. From his bright fashionable clothing to the teasing wink he threw to any woman he felt deserved it (almost all). He was beyond shallow regarding looks and relationships, emotional and dramatic, without a hint of shame towards his actions. So many times had he meddled in a way that simply caused others trouble (different from America's involvement- this almost seemed intentional).
And despite the way Matthew looked to have endless patience and an understanding, forgiving nature- it wasn't true. He could get impatient with his brother's antics, angry at England's lectures, and annoyed with France's flare. However, he knew everyone had flaws- him included of course.
Sometimes he would forget about just why he loved his family so much.
America was so determined and protective at times, forgiving Matthew for his harsh words whenever he snapped, fighting to get him back just as much as Ivan had, and then watching him like a hawk to be sure he came to no more harm.
That's what a Hero did- that was his big brother.
Arthur and Francis worried, and they gave everything they could to contribute in his return. Arthur as the stern voice of reason, and that spiteful nature directed at the enemy came with surprisingly smart and effective ways of hindering Mihailov's escape, thanks to France's inspirational ideas.
Alfred frowned from above, rubbing a hand up and down Canada's back for comfort, bending over to see if Matthew was crying, because he couldn't tell- Canada hardly ever cried, but when he did it wasn't loud but eerily silent. "H-hey, bro?"
Imagine America's confusion when Matthew tilted his head up to show one of the brightest smiles he'd seen in a while. "I'm fine, Al. You just… you all made me extremely happy." Blue eyes continued to look confused- what did he do? But a hesitant smile crossed Alfred's face anyway, because so long as Matthew was happy, he didn't care how it was achieved. "Russia makes me happy too."
Canada's grin widened as Alfred pulled another expression- this one of distaste; America was so entertaining to read with all his emotions and reactions over-dramatized. "Ew. That sounded totally wrong."
"But it is true, frère-"
"What is this, a declaration of love or something?" America asked, eyes widening at the very thought, and his voice pitching. "You do know Belarus is sitting in the car, right behind you, with that scary 'rape-you' face on, right?"
An indignant gasp answered him, "How dare you-"
Canada released his brother (much to Alfred's dislike), sitting up and raising his hands to stop an argument. He looked about ready to laugh, even though he tried to scold his brother for saying such rude things. "Look, what I was trying to say is; I've come to care about Ivan a lot, and I know he needs support right now. That's why I'm going."
Alfred sighed, looking away from the pure amethysts. "You can't go," he said, but it was a weak statement.
"I am going," Matthew replied, as if it were a fact. He turned to look at the rest of his family; imploring them to understand him. "But you could come with me."
America groaned. "Why do you have to make it complicated?"
"You should not be doing this, Matthew…"
"Oui, it is dangerous…"
Before Canada could open his mouth to continue his protest, America stood back, shutting Matthew's door with a forceful slam that rocked the entire vehicle. "He's not a kid, he knows what he's doing," he stated, and with the dramatics of an unhappy teenager, he pushed Arthur and Francis away, opening the back door.
"I'll bring him back in one piece guys; you keep an eye on the bear and Prussia." America smiled at the two Nations left outside as the two soldiers already inside the car scooted to the side to make room for him. "Stay here for backup."
"We're not your bloody backup!"
The door shut, Alfred leaned over to the driver's seat, tapping Belarus on the shoulder, ignorant of the deep glare she sent him. "Okay, let's go save the stupid commie."
Matthew's bright smile was back and he glanced to Belarus proudly as he pulled the seatbelt over his shoulder. "Thanks, Al."
"Yeah, whatever, but I think you got confused with who is supposed to be the hero here, bro."
"Don't worry, Alfred, you can be my backup," Canada chuckled.
…oOo…
Heavy boots made deep echoing thumps with every step and Ivan's weight shifted the entire boat as he boarded the wooden structure tied to the dock. It was a small fisherman's ship, barely thirty feet across. The treated wood creaked under him, years of braving the sea aged and weakened the boat, but it still held. It probably had a good decade left in its life.
With the way Ivan navigated the ship, it was obvious he'd been familiar with such vessels- he'd done his fair share of fishing at some points in time; and while he'd never 'ruled the seas' like Great Britain had, he was very knowledgeable all the same.
A rapid argument back on the docks was ignored- the owner of the ship did not like the brash invasion of his privacy, and had first refused Ivan's passage on his boat to look for a 'fugitive.' However, with all due respect to his wishes, Ivan would not be denied. If anyone tried to take the complaint to court, they'd find all protest would be over-ruled. The police and military officials should be enough of a clue to the situation's priority over private matters anyway.
If there was one thing Ivan was coming to realize, it was that this could be the absolute worst place to have a national incident. Not only were individual civilians complaining about their property being over-taken, but many commercial shipments came through here as well. Things were constantly being unloaded and reloaded, people were everywhere, and nobody was in a very good mood to have the cops tell them they were stuck at port until further notice.
The wind was biting, the chill worse than usual, and ice had formed on the decking, making everything slick and dangerous. Huge Ice-Breakers were at work clearing a way out of the gulf and Ivan wished he could tell them to quit it- if there was no way out of here, then ships would have no way to leave!
Above all, he wished they had more time- already he had made calls to the naval base in Vladivostok, attempting to urge the captains there to allow a quick dispatch to Magadan. Closing down the area and keeping the ships at the dock would cut off any chance of Dmitri escaping on one of them.
They were farther away than he had hoped for though, and while an intimidating Destroyer on the horizon would be nice, it would take an hour at the most for them to arrive. Ships were leaving port every ten minutes and even with the combined efforts of the police and their own patrol vessels, there still were not enough people to properly hold and monitor all the deports.
Which meant Ivan's group was spread thin. While he searched the bowels of the ship's small cargo, the two ships on either side of it were undergoing similar treatments. No crate, barrel, or bin was left unchecked. If it was not nailed shut beyond needing a simple crowbar to lift open, it was inspected. Although, little nails didn't stop Ivan; he pried the sturdy storage containers open with a ruthless, angry flare.
Not a single space was left unseen. He checked the sleeping quarters, engine room, navigation, and kitchen. There were not many places to hide on a ship this small; tools and equipment were everywhere and the only storage to be found contained rotten fish and bait for the upcoming trip the owner was about to make.
Still, with every fruitless quest, his frustration and anxiety grew.
He tossed aside a neat pile of thick, nylon woven rope to reveal the last dark corner in the little dinning/seating area- he found it empty of any living person. Spinning on his heel, he returned to the deck, looking across the rolls of netting and empty cages. There was nowhere to hide among them, but he leaned over the railing to get a better look anyway.
Unsurprisingly, nothing was there except the clear cold water slapping against chipped green paint, little blocks of ice churned within the murky waves, only enunciating how cold it must be. Ivan cursed lowly, looking across to the next ship, a soldier of his exited the cabin and their eyes caught. "Nothing here, sir."
"Da." Russia's gaze continued past to the far end of the harbor where a chain link fence separated the port from the dark forms of buildings in the distance. Amaranthine eyes narrowed on the distant structures, feeling a more dreadful emotion claw at his chest.
For some reason, he knew Dmitri would go there. And no matter how disgusted he was with the prospect of visiting an old death camp, he had to catch him… That offending human who dared to touch Matthew the way he had. For Canada, he sucked in a deep breath, bottling those weak frightening feelings he had about the past and locking them away.
His heavy boots once again led him with long, confident strides, off the boat and back to solid ground, catching up to the soldier who had finished his search of the ship next to his. He patted the man's shoulder, gaining his attention easily. "Keep searching; hold back all the ships you can until we can properly close the harbor. I'm going to search the other side."
With a hasty salute, the man hurriedly continued to the next boat, and Ivan watched him go for a second, appreciative of the quick and obedient reaction. Another little band of military officials passed him, yelling out halts to a small yacht about to leave the area, they succeeded and climbed aboard the ship with an intent purpose of a thorough examination.
He lifted his rifle to better settle on his shoulder, turning to distant buildings across the harbor, a scowl on his face. Getting to the other side of the port would take someone of his stature a mere ten minutes, considering his long legs and quick strides. However, there were so many people between them; many carrying luggage or equipment, carts and forklifts. Many of them were yelling in anger or impatience as the ships postponed their departure, creating a back-up of customers just milling about confusedly.
Ivan was forced to slow down and push through the crowd (literally in some cases), thanking the higher powers that he was so tall, and absolutely hating the position they were all in. So many of his people in one place, his goal so far away, the enemy so unpredictable...
By the time he pushed through the last of the civilians, he was anxious and paranoid of every movement. He broke out into a jog, weaving around the few stragglers still in his way. The closer he came to the old chain-link fence, the less people stood in his way, as if they all would rather keep as far from the haunted property as possible.
Ivan stopped a few yards from the perimeter, looking around him. His instincts brought him here, but beyond the general direction he felt Dmitri would be in, he didn't know where to look. If Dmitri was going to leave by stowing away on a ship, he would not find any in the deserted death camp. They would all be behind him, ready to depart soon, with enough equipment and distraction that he would hopefully never be noticed, and have plenty of places to hide.
What other options were there? What was he doing?
"This is ridiculous," he growled underneath his breath. "Why would he go in there if his first priority is getting out of the Country?" He turned, looking back at the closest boat under attention of merchants. Perhaps he should just look after those-
A clacking of light metal caught his attention, and he was once more brought back to the dilapidated buildings behind him. The rusted metal fence seemed to tremor under some kind of force, bending slightly as the stakes in the ground lost their stability over the years. He followed the barrier to the right, closer to the city of Magadan, frowning at a darkened figure in the distance that caused the disturbance.
He was climbing over it.
Why? A teenage kid perhaps? The stone walls of the death camp fortress was covered in spray paint from vandalism, and such an abandoned place made it perfect for hangouts (if the kids were not afraid of the creepy atmosphere). He doubted it though- the figure jumped down, landing clumsily, standing to wipe away the dirt from his shirt. Then he looked around suspiciously, and Ivan could see his hair glint brown in the light.
"He wears a lot of dark colors, or a white shirt- but they're usually long sleeved dressy clothes. He has dark brown hair combed back, kind of like Germany's but not gelled. And... gold eyes. Not the hazel that's common, but gold." Canada's voice echoed.
Ivan was too far away to see the man's eyes (still couldn't decipher whether it was a man or a boy, but he could guess that no ruffian teenager would worry about the dirt on his clothes). Long sleeved dark shirt, black pants...
The figure began to run, not in too much of a hurry, but just enough to be suspecting, to the first of the buildings, disappearing from sight.
Russia did not like that.
With his mind decided for him, he returned to the fence, pulling himself up and over the simple guard, landing gracefully with a mere grunt as his injuries pulled. He took his rifle in hand, holding it comfortably in one arm, stalking across the snowy ground to the nearby building,
...oOo...
"Stop!"
Belarus slowed the Rolls Royce to a complete stop, turning quizzically to the Canadian in the seat next to her. "What is it?" The beginning of the docks were just ahead; she'd have to park the vehicle on the side of the road, as there was no way to take it any closer.
"I think..." Matthew leaned closer to the glass, his forehead almost pressed against it. There were so many people around it was hard to tell what had him so transfixed. "Alec," he whispered.
And then he shoved the door open, tearing out of the car with such speed Natalia would have missed it had she blinked. His simple answer, a name, loud in her head; Alec Zaytsev.
"Matt!" America called afterward, scrambling to follow his brother out of the car. The soldiers beside him opening the other door.
Belarus stuttered for a moment, caught between telling them all to 'slow down' and 'wait for me' as she put the car in park, taking the keys from the ignition and climbing out after them. Her dress billowed around her in the wind but she didn't care, running after the four men hastily. "Wait! Don't shoot him!"
...Thank You...
FINALLY! Right? XD I've taken way too long with this, but I told ya'll, I had some serious time-eating stuff ahead of me. I had hoped to finish this story before this semester, but I was not fast enough. :( Yeah, for those of you who are not in the Giving In Group, you may have just thought I was dead. Actually, there were some IN the GIG who thought I was anyway.
Nope! I just have two jobs that take up 7 days of the week and I still go to college... And I'm still not getting enough money. DX
But I'm sorry for the late chapter. And I thank everyone for hanging in there for me. I will never give this up, I can't- I've come so far and the end is so close! So even if I get swamped by work, I will always try to find time to write. You readers keep my spirits up about it too! So thank you!
By the way, since I usually answer reviews at the end of the time I update (cause I'm weird like that, I like replying to reviews and it'll keep me inspired thinking the readers are waiting for me, I can't disappoi- some shit like that) Anyway! Some of you new readers! I thank you and love you :)
KitsuneDango, Kenzie-onee-chan, Blood on the Sunflowers, cneo2(3), Shay(~3), WoahWaitWhat, DaniAqueri, And many others! I read all your reviews~ Thank you!
ALSO! Time for some Angel!Matthew, I believe I owe an amazing reader a prize story! ;) Sorry it's taken so long, but I'm definitely concentrating on it now! 3
Translations:
Вы двое (Russian): You two
Пошли (Russian): Lets go
Frère (French): Brother
Disclaimer: I own nothing within this story except the plot these awesome Nation-Characters are placed in. And that pizza Gilbert brought- That's mine. *eats it all*