Chapter 37: Bleu: Blue
If there was one thing Canada had over America it was speed. Sure, in comparison, Alfred's legs were longer than Matthews, he was taller too, but the muscles of the larger man were mostly in the arms; broad shoulders and thick biceps. Not to mention less muscle definition in the middle (he was not fat, just not defined, there was a difference!).
Whereas Matthew had a lean build, sleek and agile, not skinny, but athletic with a gymnastic flexibility. He may not be suitable for football or baseball (his throw was not the best), but he was damn good at soccer and hockey, skiing and snowboarding- anything on his feet.
Some said that if you gave him skates, he could practically fly- it wasn't much different without.
This is why, despite Alfred's rush to catch up; the Canadian's fast stride put him far ahead of his brother. Every second, Alfred fell farther behind- and it wasn't because the American was slow.
In many ways, pushing his body so hard to put on this burst of speed hurt Matthew; his legs ached from inactivity, his balance still seemed off, the wounds on his chest pulled, and he already had trouble breathing. Still, for the moment, he ignored the pain- his attention was solely focused on something more important. A dark figure in the distance, telltale dark brown hair, black jacket, jeans...
Alec Zaytsev followed the stone walls of a building, walking unsteadily towards the more busy intersection leading to the harbor. He seemed to favor his left arm, as it hung limply at his side, his other hand trailed lightly along the stone exterior of some kind of commercial building, providing support and balance.
His eyes wavered, sometimes on the skyline where he could see the ships- sails or large air induction chutes. Other times, he would glare down at the sidewalk, determination and pain and anger at the general situation showing on his features. He noted with a more indifferent feeling that he was leaving a trail of blood behind him, small though it was. He wondered if he could be tracked like a wild animal from it; then figured it wouldn't matter when and if he gained some transportation.
He wondered about the time it would take, the route, the plan- until... suddenly he couldn't think.
He was too busy saying hello to the concrete.
The sharp rocks bit into the side of his face, the palm of his right hand scraped from the instinctual action of catching himself. His chest still hit the ground hard, and all the air in his lungs rushed out of him in a wheeze.
It only took a second to frantically think about how he ended up on the rough asphalt; did he trip? And then he felt a weight at his back, a knee pressing hard between his shoulder blades and he let out a desperate whine- he probably would have screamed in pain, but he couldn't get enough oxygen to do that; and all attempts to take more in were met with pain.
White flashes crossed his vision and he couldn't think of what happened-that he'd been caught, or that he might as well be dead now- just that his shoulder was throbbing, and he couldn't breathe- and whoever was on his back, please get the fuck off!
Thank the heavens that they did- he gasped, lungs screaming for oxygen, but it was hard when he was being pulled by the back of his shirt; flipped from being on his stomach, to his back- this time he yelped a little louder, protesting a little more.
Blindly, and rather weakly, he tried to throw the weight off of him, pushing at the figure with his right hand before it was slapped away violently. An arm pressed against his jugular, holding him down and his shoulder was pressed to the pavement, freezing his body into a paralyzed state as pain screamed from his side.
It hurt so fucking much; he thought he was going to pass out. Or hyperventilate, or just plain scream... as it was he realized that most of the panic was self-inducing- he tried to calm his racing heart, tried to breathe, focus on something other than his shoulder...
Something cold pressed against his cheek- a gun, he realized... funny, the metal felt nice against his heated skin actually, and he concentrated on that. The coolness of the weapon against his heated and sweaty flesh, and he took as deep of an inhale as he could, slowly opening his eyes to meet his attacker.
Within those brown eyes, there was no fear; he was not afraid of a gun, or of dying. He just wished he could go without pain if that was his fate, because quite frankly, he was sick of all his nerves reminding him that he'd been shot.
He was so sick of it he wondered if chopping the limb off would solve the problem, or hell, give him enough vodka or morphine to pass out until the damn thing healed or rotted off. Whichever one was fine by him- he'd just wished it was his left arm- he was not ambidextrous, and it'll be awkward writing, shooting, punching, and masturbating- with his left...
Because there would definitely be a lot more masturbating after that, since he would be an amputee, and what kind of woman willingly laid with a guy with one arm?
Bright violet eyes floated in front of him, catching his attention and bringing him out of whatever delirious thoughts were swimming in his head. Such a beautiful color of purple and blue shades, but the emotion within was fierce and determined, aimed directly at him, accompanied with a sudden growl that might have been his name.
"Alec."
That voice was unfamiliar, soft but angry, quiet but loud with a hidden power and a thinly veiled threat. But those eyes- he knew those eyes anywhere, and he couldn't help but smirk slightly. What, was he happy to see the kid? You'd think so by the way Alec's pathetically slumped form brightened even with all the pain he'd been feeling.
To see the boy alive, walking, talking even- it was like a fond memory of when you see how fast a child can grow up. Wasn't it just a few hours ago that he'd been forced to bath the Canadian? My, how time flew- now he was capable of running and tackling injured criminals, how cute. "Da, that's my name," he slurred.
That sounded so lame, he thought, and too passive. Wasn't he supposed to struggle or be the villain he was named as? What was a good comeback to that? He knew so many, but they didn't readily come to mind. "Have you screamed it before?"
The violent push further back to the ground shut him up real quick and he almost pouted; why couldn't he lighten the atmosphere with a few cheesy pick up line jokes? Where was the kid's humor?
"Where is Dmitri?" Ah, so the kid was going straight to the problem... That sucked. He was hoping his last few moments of life would be spent without being tortured for information. And it seemed he would be if he didn't answer; the kid looked murderous.
Well, he didn't think he'd be forgiven for his actions toward him- he wouldn't be surprised if Matthew wanted revenge. He supposed that dying without pain was a fickle, selfish wish anyway.
"Hell if I kn-" the Russian grunted.
"You do know."
"I don't."
"Tell me, Alec, or I will shoot you."
"Go ahead, I ain't got anything to say, kid."
The gun made a distinctive click-ing sound as the hammer was pulled back, and those mauve eyes darkened in a threat; daring Alec to test him- and the Russian didn't doubt. He wasn't surprised at the amount of hostility; the blond above him had every right to pull the trigger, after all, it wasn't like Alec helped him in any way.
Maybe... it was good that Alec would die by the hands of someone he directly wronged, instead of being put to death by a random officer or rotting away in prison. Yeah, I could go like this...
"Wait! Don't shoot him!"
Another pistol was shoved in his face, the barrel mere inches from his forehead, held by a panting blond that looked somewhat familiar, even though he glared at him with such cold, almost frightening blue eyes.
"Ah," Alec mumbled. "You're the idiot from the hospital." He only remembered his stupid face because he'd run him out flat on the floor- brainless monkey, running down a hospital hallway.
"What?" the American questioned. "You were..."
Canada's eyes flickered to his brother's face. "You saw him at the hospital?"
"Yeah, along with- fuck- a guy with freakish yellow eyes! I didn't know what they looked like back then! Shit!"
Alec chuckled. "One for us, right?"
Alfred glared back down. "Shut up. The only thing out of your mouth should be answers or pleads for your worthless life."
"I said don't shoot him!" That voice again, it was higher in pitch, belonging to a woman, and to the left of Alec, opposite of the blond American, stood a white haired beauty. Her long hair billowed around her in the wind, cold dark blue eyes standing out against porcelain skin, contrasting well against her black attire.
"Natalia..." Alec's eyes widened in shock. "Shit, you're with them?" And then... he laughed- weakly, as every movement of his chest hurt- but his grin seemed out of place with two loaded pistols aimed point-blank at his head. "No wonder they found us so quick! Dmitri was like 'Nobody knows where we are, it's safe' - ha! Oh, man, he'd be pissed if he knew I screwed it up by talking to a girl. He always said that kind of thing would get me in trouble... who knew it wouldn't be STD-related?"
Nobody knew exactly what to say about that, and Alfred gave him a rather curious/disturbed look, but Belarus leaned down to better see the Russian man she had 'befriended.' "Yes, Alec... Ivan Braginski is my brother."
That statement did something- Alec's entire body froze, the grin on his face wiped away, replaced with shock and disbelief. "You're kidding."
"No. I'm not." Her expression remained blank.
Alec's brown eyes stared for a moment before glancing away somewhat guiltily. "I didn't know that," he said softly. "Damn, your brother and brother-in-law, or whatever you call it in English. The whole family!"
Natalia sent a particularly suspicious look at Matthew. "Brother-in-law? They are hardly married."
He snorted, "Then when's the wedding? I've never been to one."
"I want to know where Dmitri is, Alec." She looked like she'd much rather continue to the original topic, ignoring the other comment entirely, though Matthew felt it would be brought up some other time in the future.
There was silence for a long while, and during that time, all three of the Nations above remained stiff in the tense atmosphere- Canada was rather nervous at the proximity of Belarus, as well as the unreadable looks given to him. Alfred looked ready to simply shoot the Russian- he was hardly in any mood to give mercy and one of the major sources of his brother's pain was right in front of his .357 magnum's barrel.
However, despite their wariness of each other, they all noticed the collecting pool of blood. Alec was bleeding out- he probably lost too much blood already; he was pale, the eyes unfocused- disoriented.
"He was going to the pier. I don't know where at, but if he can find a boat, he'll take it. You all know that, I'm sure- cops are all over the place." He turned back to face Matthew. "Surprised to see you again though, didn't think you'd even be able to walk after what D did to you." He coughed a bit, choking as the arm against his neck made it difficult to swallow. Even still he tried to hide it with a pathetically weak pick-up line, "I'm better, I promise."
America scowled, opening his mouth to protest, insult, and question just what he meant by that, when Canada spoke up over him. "He's spouting out nonsense, Al, look at him, he's about to pass out!"
"Then get rid of him, he's going to die anyway, and if he doesn't know anything, then that sucks for him."
Canada didn't disagree, though he continued to look at Alec a little more carefully. "Does he still have the book with him?"
The Russian hummed nonchalantly.
"Please, tell me. You don't understand the implications that book can have, it cannot get to the public-"
"Kiss me."
Canada froze, mouth open- "E-Excusez-moi?"
Those brown eyes were not looking at him though, instead, Alec was practically staring back at Natalia, saying that to her, and obviously, that command was as shocking to her as it was to everyone else. Her expression was one of bewilderment- eyes wide and lips parted. "W-what?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna die soon, I want to kiss you before I go. Besides- do that for me... and I'll tell you where his book is."
"Absolutely not!"
"Then no deal."
"You-"
"It is the least I could do... If I knew Ivan was your brother, maybe that would have changed things... I told you about Maria, da? Give me a break and kiss me." He grinned, as if that was charming.
"Straight up vodka? Damn, you are a different kind of girl, huh?" A laugh, low and relaxing even as the rowdiness of the club around them misplaced it. Natalia sat daintily on the bar-stool next to the Russian, back straight, not a hair out of place- she sipped at her alcohol slowly. Her classy dress and mannerisms looked completely out of place here, but she didn't seem uncomfortable at all.
Alec grinned, leaning closer. "So, what are you doing in this kind of place?"
"I came to find my brother- but I do not see him."
"Ah, that's not good- what kind of brother leaves his hot-as-hell-sister in a place like this? It's dangerous. You could get mugged, or raped-"
"How chivalrous of you, to think of my well-being."
He laughed. "I'm nothing but a gentleman to ladies- unless it's in bed." Then he winked playfully.
"Oh, you are also very bold," Belarus commented, watching him with a blank face- whether she was charmed by his advances or not, he couldn't tell.
Usually Alec would stay away from these types of women- the classy individuals like her seemed to have more confidence, a better reputation. More often than not, these women would hunt for their men on their own, for they pretty much could snag anyone they wanted; a bomb-shell like Natalia could get any man in this bar if she tried.
Alec wasn't usually up for the fight it took to win girls like this over- it took far more effort to convince them to sleep with him... not to say he couldn't do it, but the half-naked dancer five feet away, with average good looks was enough for him. And he'd bet he could get her to be all over his lap in a heartbeat.
For some strange reason- this Natalia woman had caught his attention for the night, and he found himself turned on by her casual attitude, the indifferent reactions to his charm- the subtle flirting was a nice change.
"Just confident, is all," he replied back. "I could show you a good time, you look like you don't get out much. That is... if your brother approves, right?" he laughed, like that was a joke. Belarus almost smiled- because it really was; of course her brother would not approve of the man working with his enemy.
"Why do you care if he does or not?"
That smile remained, showing teeth. "Big brothers are very protective of their little sisters, you know? It's like, an instinct."
"How would you know this?"
"I have a little sister too! Maria Gorbachova."
"And you approved of her fiancé?"
"I don't know, I've never even met him."
Natalia faltered, a bit confused- wasn't this whole conversation about sibling approval...?
Alec shook his head ruefully after tossing back a shot of absinthe and Bacardi mix. "I guess I should mention that I haven't talked to my sister in a few years."
Natalia stared. "So how do you know about protective instincts?" she asked, a bit of sarcasm in her tone.
The brunette huffed in amusement. "So, when our parents died, we were put in this shitty foster-home, the Gorbachovs, and I would get in trouble all the time! Most of it would be stealin'- we were really poor, but the cops would catch me, and my sister would cry, and the fosters would bitch and complain. I knew I caused trouble, and my fosters never liked me, but I didn't care about them- I did it for my sister.
"One day though, I came home from school, and everything was... gone. The door was locked, all of the furniture was gone, clothes, food- all of it. My sister along with them.
"So, I tried to find them; I was pissed- they took my sister, that was the only thing I had left, ya know? But it wasn't like I could go to the cops- I had no money or food, no transportation, or the slightest clue on where they went and I was pretty convinced they wouldn't help me anyway.
"I lived on the streets for the longest time; I got involved with all kinds of shit; gangs, drugs, trafficking- and I asked around, and dug through classified files and whispered rumors, trying to find her again. I told myself that when I did see her, I would have enough money and power to protect her and keep her safe- she'd never be taken from me again."
Natalia frowned, "You must have found her then..."
"Da..." The man's face grew solemn, an expression Belarus felt was rare to see. He stared at the wooden bar in front of him. "It started with an old damn newspaper, and I wasn't even looking for it. I was on a job, doing a background check on somebody- I don't even remember the name... a car wreck and the deaths of two elderly people. My foster parents."
"Not your sister?"
"My sister wasn't mentioned, but I recognized the names and the faces of those two grouchy assholes; the wreck happened a year after they disappeared, in a small piss-poor village near the White Sea and Finland. I went there, asked around about the couple and a possible "daughter" they left behind.
"And I got answers... back to the slums of the streets, in a disgusting old bar with filthy perverted men. My beautiful sister on a stage- her once wavy brown hair was ratted, and her green eyes were dull. She was too thin, her voice was hoarse, and..." Alec paused. He looked haunted by the memory- his eyes did not water, his voice did not crack, but in a way he seemed broken. "She had needle marks in her arms too. Still, she danced- she took off her clothes and smiled for those fucking pigs while they stuffed money at her."
Natalia remained silent, frowning and honestly intrigued and disturbed by the story.
"After her performance, I was able to talk with her- and I was angry and hurt and so ready to help- because that was not a job for her. She would never have had to do that if I'd been with her. Those goddamn fosters thought they'd make a new life, forgetting the trash that they left behind. But they ended up dying, leaving the only thing precious and innocent to rot on her own.
"I was so angry... If they hadn't died already, I'd have murdered them. Maria..."
He took a deep breath, shaking his head, ordering another shot of liquor, and trying to get back to the story- not the things he'd do to his "parents" if he had the chance. "My sister didn't welcome me as I thought she would... Though, she did say that for the longest time, I was her rock; her strength. She missed me.
"But when I offered to take her away, she refused. She said she had goals to go to school, start a business; she didn't want my help- and I knew she was full of shit. In her situation? She wasn't going to school- most of her money probably went to the dope she used to pump through her veins every day. She needed out, and I was there to show the way... so why did she refuse?
"Because she owed money to the strip club she worked at, and her "pimp" and his gang. All the retards she fucked for that dope, cause she had nothing else but her body to bargain with by then."
Natalia leaned closer, trying to get a good look at the man's expression, worried if he was breaking under his own story, and she was going to tell him to stop, because she'd heard enough, if that was the case. However, his brown eyes lifted to connect with hers, and the emotions within were locked away so tight, she couldn't get a read on them, and he was smiling, charmingly and so out-of-place and fake, she didn't know what to believe.
"Two Million Dollars!" he said. "That's how much it will take to buy her freedom. She'll have enough left over to buy a house even! But she'll have to go to rehab- I'll make sure she does- even if I have to tie her down to the bed as she gets over it, I promised her that... Sure, she gave me this look like she didn't believe a damn thing I said, but I'll show her."
"And you've been collecting all that money for her?"
"Yep! All for her... It'll be worth it. I'll have my Maria back, and it'll be just me and her- no stupid fosters, money problems, cops- just happiness."
The Belarusian smiled. "Sounds like a fairy tale happy ending. You'd go so far for her."
"I believe every big brother would, but then again, some people are dead-beat retards who wouldn't know the importance of their own blood. Your brother isn't like that, is he?"
"No, I don't believe he is, but sometimes..." she hummed, wondering if she should say. At his prompting, interested look, she continued somewhat hesitantly. "There was a time where we were all together, happy. Some things happened, as they always tend to do, and we were split apart. I hated it, even if I had my own kind of freedom, I missed him. I... think he missed me too- no, I know he was lonely on his own. However, here lately, it doesn't seem like he needs me, or wants to be around me as he once did. He's always looking for someone else- and I am always so... jealous."
Alec grinned, "Jealous little sister? That's cute." Her glare only made him laugh a little louder. "Well, I guess there are certain duties my sister wouldn't be able to fulfill-"
"Like what?"
He huffed in amusement, not at all insulted by her annoyed interruption. "Sex for one, but... I don't know, isn't family supposed to be there for each other? A complete stranger isn't, so it's interesting to bring them into your life and see if they'll stay- because in the end, it's their choice if they want to. So... if I found a special girl, I'm not saying she'd replace the love I have for Maria, but... it's nice to think I could love her enough to die for her too. She would do the same for me, right? If it was true love... some shit like that."
"Right," Natalia muttered, returning to her drink.
"But hey, not like I need a girl right now. I'm just having fun, no commitment!" He threw another flirtatious wink her way, downing his shot glass before standing. "Now, why don't I take you to the dance floor?"
"Are you gonna kiss me or not? Cause I'm about to faint like a sissy."
Blinking, Belarus sent an annoyed look Alec's way, putting a hand on her hip and looking ready to slap him. "You're not the charmer you think you are-"
"Natalia," Matthew's tone gave her pause, and she looked towards the blond in surprise. His teeth were grinding together, eyes narrowed, and voice rough. "We need to find Dmitri, and we need to get that book."
Alfred frowned. "What boo-"
"The book, the thing Dmitri has been basing his entire plans on. It has classified information that could ruin Ivan if it was released to the public. We have to destroy it." He stared up at Belarus intently. "I think a silly kiss is an easy payment."
"Then you kiss him," she hissed.
"I would if that's what it took!" Matthew yelled. "Unfortunately he didn't ask me, damn it, so you better gain the courage and do it instead!"
"Am I that undesirable?" Alec slurred.
Natalia seethed, glaring at Matthew with dislike before bending down, folding her legs underneath her and pushing her hair behind her shoulder. On hands and knees she hovered over the Russian, close enough to feel his breath.
A cold, chaste kiss was placed on the cheek before she withdrew- still looking murderous. Alec only smirked. "Prude." And then he was smacked and he yelped, protesting as loudly as he could. "Come on!"
"I thought you were dying!"
"I think I am-"
"Then hurry up about it!"
"Save your breath to tell me where Dmitri and his book are," Matthew interrupted, pushing down on the man to further get his attention.
"Damn it, the dock, the book is with him, he went to the west side, that's all I know."
"Thank you," Canada growled, finally letting go of the Russian, standing to his feet unsteadily, and then stepping over the man in the direction of the port. Alec stayed there- a little afraid to move and experience any more pain- eyes closing in exhaustion.
Alfred narrowed his eyes. "So can I shoot him?"
"Leave him for the military; either he'll die or rot in jail. I don't care. Ivan will deal with him later." America did not look happy about that- this was a loose end, and revenge was needed for the treatment of his brother!
But Canada was already jogging off- soon to be lost as he crossed the street and turned around a building. Alfred growled, not willing to let his brother leave his sight, and so he holstered his weapon, sent a look at the two Russian soldiers behind him- don't let this man out of your sight...
Then he took off after the Canadian, once again attempting to close distance between them- Matthew was fast when he wanted to be.
He hardly noticed that Natalia stayed behind.
...oOo...
It was definitely haunting to be here, Ivan thought, leaning against a dirty stone wall as he listened for footsteps. The stone at his back was chilling; frozen cold as it had been exposed to the elements... it was the same as it had been back then.
Everything from the floor, the ceiling, the blank grey walls- even the hard metal beds missing their blankets- everything was always freezing cold. In the worst of winter it would reach negatives so low; thirty percent of the prisoners died every year.
Unbelievable cold; the kind that numbed the body, seeping into the bones; until every breath hurt your lungs it was so frigid, and your eyes watered and then the tears froze- limbs turned a deathly pale white before hardening and unfeeling, beginning with the fingers, toes, ears and nose; spreading. And there were times Ivan had gone so long with frostbitten fingers and toes- he didn't remember how it felt to feel; textures and warmth.
The pain of finally thawing out his body- the result; blackening flesh of gangrene and blisters and dead down to the bone.
That was just from the environment- the real torture came during the day; working in the mines- with the smoke and dust- they did just as much damage. Sweat and blood, dangerous and unstable tunnels, the fast pace, the angry secret police that ruled over their production rate. "Go faster! Work harder!" While they dished out a single daily serving of 'bread' - a mixture of flour and water; three days old and frozen solid.
Ivan remembered those days very well, and standing in the middle of it all, he could almost hear the cries of pain and sorrow- smell the blood and fear rolling from the ghosts who lived their final moments of life as tortured men.
Dark eyes closed, shutting out the vision of the cold, unforgiving room, and he felt his heart throb with sympathy for the prisoners who remained connected here in death. In many ways, he was in the same situation, wasn't he? He continued to live, but the past stayed with him no matter how much time passed. Did the past haunt him? Or was he the one unable to let it go? Like a trapped poltergeist, unable to leave the one place they felt a connection to- no matter if that connection pained them or not.
It didn't matter, Ivan told himself, whether he was the one holding onto it or not- he had a duty to his Nation, and to Matthew- his nightmarish past would have to shove off for the moment; there was no time to dwell on it.
Dmitri Mihailov led him here for that exact reason- to get caught up in all his memories- to distract him. Ivan could not allow that, and he could certainly not allow the traitor to escape. He opened his eyes to glare at the wall across from him, dark stone broken by a metal framed bunk bed of sorts; he looked away from the image forcefully, and turned the corner leading into a hallway.
Broken windows to the right littered the floor with glass, and the wind seemed particularly biting in the narrow corridor as it whistled eerily- they were the only source of light, and Ivan warily checked every open doorway along the left wall that led into shadowed rooms.
He looked convinced that there may be something within (whether it be his target or some kind of beastly creature, he didn't know). He felt eyes on him- from everywhere- and despite trying to keep focus on the one situation at hand, he couldn't stop paranoia.
He attempted to keep his steps quiet, struggling to hear any other movement besides his own; he was tensed like a spring, put under the maximum amount of weight and just waiting to be released. His breathing seemed too loud for him so he held it, stepping from one empty room to the next. Doctor-experiments-drug-pain-screams; anything but the doctor, because they would only declare you unfit for work, and the next thing you knew you were either tested like a guinea pig or led out back for execution.
Again, the room was empty besides a hard wooden desk infected with rot and bugs and swollen from moisture. A chair sat by the window, as if waiting for the person to sit and stare out at the grounds. Officer-whips-chains-orders; hard eyes with no mercy, looking at you as if he enjoyed inflicting as much pain as he could possibly dish out and you shivered at the very mention of his name, hiding from sight as he walked by, hoping you would never catch his attention.
Ivan couldn't hold his breath any more, and he let it out with a shaky sigh, trying to keep it as silent as possible, tightening his hold on his rifle to keep his hands from shaking. Once again he told himself to man up- to shut out every little memory- he would not be weakened like this!
Suddenly, a loud clatter filled the air, echoing down the hall and Russia spun around, rifle at the ready- in that split second he no longer looked afraid but determined, angry, ready to shoot. No matter the enemy that was going to face him; human, nation, ghost, demon- he'd fight in whatever way he could with everything he had, because there was no other option.
He knew the feeling of fear and despised the crippling weakness he felt while walking these halls; he was afraid of the memories and of the monsters tearing at his stained soul. However, he had never been one to freeze in the moment he was called upon to fight. Terror never paralyzed him, and even if his enemy were stronger or more intelligent than him, Ivan did not ever roll over or concede defeat.
It's why the officers loved him so much- they loved his snide remarks and defiant attitude even as they punished him for his disobedience. He fought them; hands tied, feet bound- his nude body covered in whip lashes and blood and his teeth were knocked out but he fought. It was his right to survive, for his people, for the land he bled on- the soil soaked in his blood called to him.
Maybe it was the will of the more defiant civilians channeling through him, or perhaps it was the decades of training, experiencing war and death that kept him from giving up. Either way, Russia and his people were stubborn- and Ivan took that characteristic to heart in the fact that nothing could take away his strength in terms of bravery.
So he stepped out of the dilapidated office, into the empty hallway- his eyes narrowed and determined, his grip on the rifle steady and secure. Booted feet took confident steps, carrying him past the other abandoned rooms that once looked so frightening and haunted. They barely garnered his attention as he stalked to the end of the hall, pressing his back to the wall in order to discreetly see around the corner.
There was another muffled sound of footsteps accompanied by a curse in Russian before the screeching whine of a rusty door opening sounded. Ivan used the noise to hide the sound of his own movement, getting just a bit closer until he could see clearly into the room. It was more of a hanger than a functional living space- it was right on the water, built onto a wooden dock. Equipment lined one wall; cabinets and rusted tools-mostly for the mining crews, but a few fisherman's nets and rods set nearby as well.
On the other side was a pair of metal sliding doors that opened to the outside, and a dark figure struggled with one noisily. First, there was rubble and snow piled in the front, as the door had already been open a few inches. Then, it was rusted, frozen, and hadn't been moved in years.
Still, the person tried; he kicked whatever hindered him out of his way, bracing his back against the wall and shoving at the door as much as he could- resulting in a painful screeching as the metal tracks grated together.
It only slid a few more inches before stopping and the man attempted to force it further but had no luck getting it to move. With only a foot of space between the frame and the door, the man could hardly squeeze through, but it seemed like his only option. No other door led directly to his destination and if he couldn't go through here, he'd have to go back outside and around the entire building (in the open, where the police could see him).
He didn't realize that it was too late for discreetly sneaking around until the large form of a man stepped around the corner. His movements halted, strangely bright golden eyes widening as he recognized the man before him.
Dark eyes narrowed angrily at him from behind a raised military issued rifle; the booted feet spread to give him better balance and tensed to move in a seconds notice.
A naive part of Dmitri never thought he'd see this man up close; to be in the same room as him, to feel the glare, withstand the dangerous aura pouring from him- he looked much larger in person than he did on a television screen. At least a head taller than the human, almost double the shoulder width- two hundred pounds of muscle with a short temper and a painfully dooming expression of fury attached to the sharp features.
Another part of Dmitri knew very well what this meant: Ivan had found him, that fact couldn't be changed now, and he knew that he had no significant advantage over the Nation. Fighting hand-to-hand would get him killed so fast... running would get him caught in only a matter of time (those long legs of Ivan's would more than likely keep up and surpass him).
What else could he do?
He started with a smile; large, happy- as if the man before him was a sight he couldn't have hoped to see. "Ivan Braginski," he called joyfully. "Or should I say Russia? How is that boyfriend of yours?"
...Thank You...
I know, I know, the cliffhanger, I'm sorry, but the chapter was long enough! Ha ha, I couldn't possibly continue with this scene, otherwise it would take pages more! Then the last chapters would be lacking, eh! So you'll just have to deal with the anticipation! /is shot and maimed.
Anyway, sheesh, we're nearing the end, I'm kind of scared to reach it. But it won't be the end of Giving In really, I will have it all cleaned up, and feature the art and all the members of the group who have helped me so much.
And we have plenty of new readers, joining the late party! XD Welcome!
I hope you like the chapter, and hopefully I'll be able to get more writing done now that the Holidays are over- working in retail is not a good thing when it comes to holiday and free-time. Not that I had much free-time in the first place... remember the awesome bi-weekly schedule I had once so long ago? … yeah... Hopefully those days will come again. :P
Translations:
None.
Disclaimer: I do not own Nations, Cities, Ships, People, Guns- no wait... I own guns, I'm an American. Duh.