Thanks for the reviews! Okay! Once again, I apologize for the delay. Real life stuff got in the way... again... and this chapter is really long. I'll be earlier next time, I'm sure. I actually wanted to squeeze in more segments here, but I decided, eh, I could get to those another time. I hope the ones here are suitable enough for this finale of the arc. If there are any mistakes here, I'll be fixing them in a bit. Kind of busy at the moment. Now, on with the show!
Edit 30/12/2019: Annnd I still haven't updated. I'm not surprised at this point. I give up. Life got in the way... again, and maybe because I keep rewriting the next chapter because I wasn't satisfied with how it looked. Apologies, but I'd rather give a late good chapter than a rushed bad one. However, I will keep my word of updating earlier than I have lately, but I won't upload it today. In the meantime, I hope you'll enjoy the other stories I do plan to update this week.
Meanwhile while all the action, suspense and intrigue was taking place, Austria's been stuck in a classified location all alone taking care of all the paperwork that needed to be done.
No, really.
It's the reason why he hadn't made a single appearance before the enemy or anywhere else.
Well, would anybody honestly want to tune in on Austria doing the joys of paperwork and organize the silent disappearances of people that might prove to be troublesome to the organizations plans while occasionallyt making a few sarcastic remarks? No. He didn't think so.
As for the inevitable question of 'What paperwork?', he's of course referring to the mountains upon mountains of papers brought by the changes of government of structures of the countries now under the Order's control. They may have the human 'leaders' taken care of, but there's obviously a lot more to it than that. It's not that easy, unfortunately.
So, it fell upon Austria to make sure everything was and well and orderly… no pun intended.
Yes, it sounded sad, but someone had to do it and he didn't have the heart to deprive any of his loyal members of their fun. And he didn't quite trust the humans enough to dump this on them. Besides, as foolproof as he knew his 'influence' over his people was, there were some things in here that he'd rather they'd not see.
Including but not limited to the ridiculous amount of budget funds carefully collected throughout the years through taxes, making particularly unbearable billionaires disappear, and America and Macau's gambling, spent on mood enhancers, and information regarding a few secret projects of theirs that'd require a few… changes around here and there. Essentially, they're all sorts of things that the humans don't have any right to know about.
So… yes, it was indeed necessary. Also, Austria had little doubt that he was one of the very few members who'd have all the necessary patience and wisdom for this task. Not that he thought that any of his members were dumb, no. Even the ones that seemed airheaded like Bulgaria were a lot more capable than they let on. Austria's just the man for the job.
…And he honestly couldn't imagine Bulgaria of all people doing paperwork, Austria shuddered.
As for Prussia, he never liked sitting still in one place for long, and his mind could easily linger away sometimes when left to his own devices.
There's no other option. Austria will get the job done.
He surveyed the mountains of papers in front of him. Still…
Austria rubbed his temples, sighing. "I'm going to need a lot of coffee…"
/ / / / /
Algeria had half a mind to punch a wall out of anger.
It would certainly be a good way to get all this anger and indignation out of her system.
Was she wrong for accusing her or– no. Hungary had no special reason to be concerned about Tunisia? Algeria didn't trust the woman. She had demonstrated that she held no regard for Muslims at all, and her… tastes were nauseating. And Algeria already found her to be quite the infuriating person. Tunisia certainly didn't appreciate whatever 'comfort' she had offered…
"Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous…" She muttered angrily under her breath, clenching her teeth for a few moments before finally letting out a tired, and perhaps defeated, sigh.
'Then again, what do I know?' A tired, frustrated, even more bitter part of her seemed to say. It's not like she was there to witness exactly what had been done to her brother to make him avoid her like the plague. And it's not like she knew what Morocco had done to him in Paris to make him freeze and look on his way to a panic attack whenever Algeria so much as expressed even a little curiosity.
Twice, that's twice she had failed her brother now. First thanks to circumstances beyond her control, then by being held back by her fear of that hellish little reptile. But that's hardly the point right now…
She just saw, she did not know. And that's what frustrated her the most of all this. Algeria didn't truly know what had been done to Tunisia, she just saw her brother keep molesting and kissing him. Yes, she could very well figure out the more obvious details that even an idiot could see, but she didn't exactly know the rest.
For all she knew, Morocco could have done something absolutely heinous to him, perhaps not rape, but some just as or almost as vile, and Tunisia was keeping his mouth shut purely out of shame.
But it was this thought, along with suddenly being hit with the realization that she'd keep being a horrible sister if she kept doing nothing, that finally helped her get her act together and go see how Tunisia doing to offer her support.
Ashamedly, it took a bit of effort on her part to swallow up all her shame and convince herself to stop crying in a corner wallowing in her grief and self-pity knowing that her brother was no doubt traumatized after whatever indignities Morocco had done to him. How could she even think of leaving her brother like that? Unlike with Algeria, the reason for his suffering wasn't his own fault…
And he had to had done something to Tunisia. Algeria knew it, she could see it on her brother's face. He was suffering. It's extremely implausible that Morocco dragged him off just to have a friendly little talk and nothing more.
But why didn't he want to talk to her? Algeria supposed she could understand if he wanted some time alone, but why avoid her like this? She told him that she'd be there for him, didn't she? Yes, she made sure to make that perfectly clear…
…Even though she failed to do just that and could only watch him get carried off again. B-But that couldn't mean that he didn't at least trust her to enough to tell her anything, right?
Right?
"Why won't you let me in, Malik?" Algeria muttered hopelessly to herself.
Was he angry at her too? Was that it? Maybe it wasn't just Morocco, but how she caused France to be ensnared by the enemy?
She didn't know.
Algeria was tired.
This day, while extremely successful for everyone in that they got the G8 to convince them of the truth and they rescued Mauritius the poor bay, was however nothing but a pile of personal failures for Algeria. And right now, she's ashamed to say that the negatives were outweighing the positives right now for her.
She'd think that there's no way her day could get any worse, but it's best not to tempt fate.
...Algeria still wanted to try to reach out to her brother, to save him from his despair, even if he'll push her away at first. Like that'll stop her. Morocco didn't call her a stubborn ox for nothing… grr…
Could there some way for her to convince him to open up? She… well… agh… see… Algeria… will… admit that she's not an expert in doing that in a 'gentle, soothing' way. Usually she got her siblings to open up about their issues with the so-called 'look' that apparently can pressure them enough to crack. It's the same with Tunisia. And it never took much for him to talk…
But… that might not be what he needs right now. The pressure, she meant. He's already a wreck. The last thing she wanted was to make things worse.
She covered her face in her hands, frustrated with everything. It's times like this where she really missed Father, his advice and mostly limitless patience. He would know what to do. He could help Tunisia.
Probably more than she ever will…
Still, Algeria wanted to try. She wasn't Father. She'll never be like Father. But hopefully he'll somehow help guide her through this difficult situation.
/ / / / /
Boy, was South Africa tired. He should probably call it a day.
It's funny… He didn't realize how exhausted he was until he sat down without any other mission to complete in mind. He didn't realize it until after healing everyone as best as he could without completely collapsing. He didn't realize how tired he was until he decided to rest.
Then again, it's been a busy day. Lots of things exciting happened, to put it mildly. Of course he was going to wind up a little tired at the end of the day. And it's not like South Africa didn't endure injuries today. His dear brother Ned hurt him (and that's only the beginning…!), Russia injured him with that stupid pipe of his. And it's not like summoning all those impundulu didn't drain him…
Oh, then there's how Anubis struck him away with lightning. That… did sting a little bit more than South Africa wanted to admit, but he laughed anyways. Pain was something he could no longer perceive. Still holding a grudge over Cairo, are we?
He had enough energy to laugh some more, but it died down soon enough when another thought crossed his mind.
And now they 'lost', Nigeria's dead. Temporarily, of course, but he's still gone, which made South Africa quite upset for more than a couple reasons...
There wasn't much South Africa talent as a healer could do for a corpse, especially one whose death was caused by a god of death. It frustrated him, so he had to settle for instead cleaning up the blood and try to do something about Nigeria's poor torn up jersey. He didn't mind seeing him shirtless (neither did Morocco, obviously), but Nigeria always liked wearing those soccer jerseys of his…
South Africa couldn't do much for a corpse, except eat it or feed it to his pets, but that's reserved for anyone who's not friends or allies. But he could try to lift any curse Anubis might have placed on him… except, shockingly, there weren't any at all.
Weird.
But anyway… his frustration and the hurt to his pride that came from their loss, as well as his anger on his friends' behalf (and vice-versa), weren't even the only reasons why he felt angry.
You can blame Switzerland for that.
"It's pretty nice of you to allow Haiti to have France to himself for a while." South Africa casually remarked, having taken to playing with the beads while laying on one of the sofas.
Cameroon, who had more or less reverted to his usual charming stoic disposition, nodded, expression unchanged. "It is only fair. It is important to note that Haiti can torture France in ways we can't."
Morocco smiled pleasantly, petting the recovering cobra sleeping peacefully on his legs. "Indeed. Besides, I do believe that Hennrick deserves this reward for his trouble, especially since he was so worried for our well-beings."
"It would take much more than that to kill us." Cameroon said in a way that almost concealed his offended tone. "Haiti acknowledged that."
"Even so, I feel bad for Haiti." Morocco spoke with genuine sympathy, a saddened frown on his face. He truly liked Haiti, and not solely because of their connection through Nigeria or France. "To come all this way just after everyone else had already left and to find Nigeria having been brutally impaled by that dog…"
"That dog is a god," South Africa offhandedly reminded him, though not unkindly. "A really buff dog."
Really tall too, he'd make a good basketball player. The image gave South Africa a good laugh.
"But still a dog and a threat," Morocco easily retorted, and he sent his friend a pout. "One who very well might have killed you – or worse – if Nigeria hadn't saved the both of you."
South Africa smiled despite that, unconcerned. Death didn't scare him. Hell didn't scare him. So the god didn't scare him. "You know there's no way we could've died just like that."
"Oh, I know, but it's still worrying to hear that he had you two pinned down so easily."
"I agree with Morocco. It's a threat we need to get rid of as soon as possible." Cameroon said with an edge to his voice, his fists clenched above his legs. "Anubis might try to keep Nigeria's mouth closed next time."
"If the impundulu don't peck his eyes out first," South Africa's smile became malicious. Blinding a god, wouldn't that be an impressive achievement?
Morocco hummed, nodding calmly. "I'm sure we'll find a suitable solution to that issue. However, that is beside the point. Poor Haiti has suffered quite enough frustration today thanks to France and his earlier argument with Alfred, though I'm sure he didn't mean to stress him out. It must've made it more shocking to see Nigeria's corpse."
Yeah, they certainly were when they stumbled upon him lying in the middle of the grassy field. A gaping hole was there where his heart and chest were impaled, no doubt by the dog god's (heh, dog god) massive sword, and having bled quite a sizable puddle under him. But of course, despite the nature of his temporary demise, there was a smile on Nigeria's face.
Even in at that moment, South Africa couldn't help a smile despite the situation. Oh, that's what he loved about Nigeria. Even in temporary death, he never stops smiling that feral smile of his. Cheerful to the end, no matter what occurred.
"Well, circumstances aside, I'm sure he's really happy now." South Africa managed a toothy grin, though unfortunately it looked tired. It widened, however, when a scream resounded in the room. "Ja, very happy. I mean, what are the odds of you three having your arch-nemesis fall straight into your hands. I'm jealous."
South Africa wanted to ask Haiti to have the Baron to bring that pathetic Brit to him, punish him for ruining what little respect he had left for him. Forcing a nice tire around his chest and arms, fill it petrol, and relish the smell of cooked England. But nooooo, America probably wouldn't be so happy with that, would he?
Although… it would be fun to see what kind of trouble a broken man would bring to the enemy side.
"Indeed." Morocco nodded, wearing a pleased smile. "It does make things much easier for us. I am very much looking forward to seeing him in pain again."
"I want to tear out his liver again," Cameron flashed a feral, terrifying grin, and his fingers twitched. "Slowly this time, make feel the pain of the pull before it snaps off from the other organs. I'd like to see that…"
"So do I," Morocco said dreamily, and he smiled at his friend. "Be patient, Cam. We'll have our turn soon."
After that reassurance, the three twisted friends fell into a comfortable silence.
…
"I still can't believe Switzerland didn't tell us about his plan B." South Africa huffed, hurt, crossing his arms behind his head. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to get it out of his system.
He saw the other two nations shift uncomfortably at the reminder at the fact they more or less got duped, to be put it crudely.
Needless to say, he didn't take Switzerland's news of his 'secret plan' very well. No… no, no, no, no, he hated it. He hated it. He'd never been so angry at Switzerland than he had been at that single moment. South Africa had felt used, like a… a… tool.
He's had enough years of putting up being a tool of his people for their selfish ends, even though it was for the sake of the masquerade, thank you very much.
And now, in the aftermath of their defeat, it came to light that not only did they not lose, but that Switzerland withheld information so that there'd be a smaller chance of them 'screwing it up' or 'getting too cocky and spit it out like a fucking idiot'. To say it pissed him off when he was told about it would be an understatement.
…But this was different.
This was very, very different. In fact, in the end, South Africa had to laugh at how Switzerland tricked them into thinking there were literal stakes involved.
"It is ridiculous…" Cameroon muttered quietly, bitter and angry. "Absolutely ridiculous…"
"Neither do I, Chris." Morocco sighed sadly while still petting Abby, although he no longer sounded as sad as he was earlier. After Switzerland fully explained his reasons, a lot of their collective anger got burned out. "While discovering that he was capable of being so, made me feel… extremely delighted, it still hurts knowing that he didn't trust us."
"Even when we…" South Africa grinned wryly, scratching his head. "Kind of proved that we couldn't be trusted to always follow his orders?"
Morocco chuckled, though the usual mirth was absent "Well, yes, there is that. But we had just begun to trust each other again, and then he does that to us. How cruel…"
The North African released a saddened sigh.
"But I stand by what I said that I forgive him for his actions and that I am impressed and thankful that he went through such trouble for our wish." Morocco stated with complete sincerity, and he smiled again at South Africa. "And you?"
"Oh, ja. Ja, definitely." South Africa nodded fervently. "I wasn't kidding around when I applauded him for that stuff. It helps that he said that he had complete faith in us to perform well regardless of what happened."
At least he had complete trust in their abilities. South Africa could… accept that.
"Still, it's a little hard letting go of the anger, don't you think?"
"Indeed." Morocco agreed serenely. "Although, it's mostly because of what happened to Abby. I would have an easier time forgiving him if Abby hadn't gotten so hurt…"
"Hmm… Hey, Cammy, what are your real honest thoughts on this?" South Africa asked calmly to the silent man next to him, who visibly glowered at the question.
"He lied to us, tricked us, not long after he had proven that he could be trusted with any mission." Cameroon recounted emotionlessly, his equally inexpressive face beginning to twist in anger as his fists quivered. "That… makes me feel angry, betrayed."
"But?" South Africa said expectantly with a curious smile, knowing that there's more to it.
"But…" The barely restrained anger on Cameroon's face dissipated to be replaced to what might almost be a slightly softer expression, his hands went still, and he started down blankly at them. "What he did was for the sake of our goal, for the mission. And the reason he made the plan exactly that way was because he had complete faith in our abilities that we wouldn't get permanently killed. Such risk, such devotion for our and the leaders' wish despite what trouble we have given him… fills me with satisfaction and approval."
Humming in thought, South Africa considered that good point. True, true, Cammy did bring up a valid argument. In the end, orders or not, Switzerland did stake his life and health for the Africans' wish, which… he supposed… they forgot to be grateful for in the whole time they annoyed him. Because Switzerland had long made it clear that he didn't like them, but he's perfectly willing to work with them when necessary.
And not once had Switzerland sabotaged the whole brainwashing process. Yes, while the adjustments he wanted to make to the island nation were a little boring, they're necessary. The Order had no need for incompetent members…
So… one could say that the reason why Switzerland made such a clever but still risky plan and kept it from them, tricking them, would be because they caused – pushed – him into being wary of them and take drastic actions to guarantee victory for their side without any of the Africans' arrogance, pride, lust or bloodlust getting in the way of said victory.
"Heh… You make a good point there, Roshaun." South Africa couldn't help but chuckle bitterly. "We can complain about the trickery all we want, but we can hardly blame a fellow member for doing what's necessary for our side's victory."
Yes, exactly. To feel at angry at Switzerland would be hypocritical.
After all, didn't South Africa have a drastic plan of his own that would secure the Order's victory, but he'd have to pay a hefty price for it?
"Well, I did feel angry, and I think I still do. Abby got hurt because of Vash's secrecy, and I normally wouldn't forgive that." Morocco began with a rather seething voice, but then abruptly softened. "But… I'm really impressed with his planning. I'm also willing to admit that I may have underestimated Algeria's stubbornness, so the fault lies with me too for Abby getting..."
Pitiful hissing from Abby, who must've woken up while they were talking, interrupted Morocco. Now, in all honestly, South Africa wasn't as good as telling what Abby's trying to say as he was with his, for example, honey badgers. But it was abundantly clear that Abby was protesting Morocco blaming himself.
"No, no, Abby, it's not your fault. It's mine. You did your best, my friend, and I'm grateful for that." Morocco offered a reassuring smile. "And I did say that I was prepared for the consequences for having a bit of fun, didn't I?"
"You did." Cameroon affirmed bluntly.
"I did," Morocco nodded, clapping his hands together with a wide smile. "And I meant it."
South Africa smirked at his friend's overall calmness. Leave it to Morocco to take any consequences of his own actions with grace.
"…And since Vash said that he had faith in Abby coming out alive, I'm willing to accept this betrayal of trust as a punishment for my actions."
Punishment, huh?
"Guess that means it's the same for us too, then." South Africa said dryly, staring at the ceiling. "A little payback for all of us for not keeping our bloodlust in check."
"Even though Switzerland didn't do it out of spite," Cameroon pointed out blankly, understandably with bit of disbelief of his tone.
That's probably the most impressive thing out of all this, honestly. That Switzerland didn't do it because he wanted for those troublemaking barbarians making a mess out of everything.
"Yes, exactly! And besides, other than the revelation of Plan B, today wasn't a loss." Morocco's smile suddenly became a familiar kind of hungry. You know what that means… "I did get my wish of spending time with my dear brother, after all."
Morocco practically beamed in joy in as he dreamily said that, whi. He was so happy that South Africa felt his own teeth show in a nasty grin. However, for quick second he's sure he saw Cameroon flinch, but he chose not to comment on it, a gut feeling telling him that it's probably not his business.
Oh, South Africa will gladly agree that the battle wasn't a loss in any way, even though he got pretty much unceremoniously blasted all the way off-screen by Anubis. Toying with Russia and brutally knocking him down a peg felt great. He relished every time Russia lost his cool, every single time he sat blood spurt from a new wound, disappointing him with calmness with every taunt and jab… No wonder America, Lithuania and the others were so looking forward to invading him, that was just too much fun!
Now Russia painfully knew (in more ways than one) that he wasn't untouchable. He's not invincible. In this war, anyone could wind up getting the scrap getting beaten out of them...
He didn't care that he might've got a concussion from one or two pipes to the head. It was fun fun fun!
"Nigeria probably won't be as understanding as us though." Cameroon ominously remarked, glancing warningly at the aforementioned nation currently laid on another sofa. "He does not appreciate being tricked in any way."
With that, the happy atmosphere kind of vanished, and South Africa and Morocco both cringed.
Oh yeah… Nigeria. Oh, Nigeria won't take it well. Unless you think that the same guy who placed a piece of his soul in each of the surviving ethnic group personifications to keep an eye on them so that he won't suffer another agonizing civil war again would take kindly to any kind of betrayal of trust.
"Especially since Vash lied straight to the face that he'd inform us of the plan…" South Africa said sheepishly, scratching his cheek.
"…Only to not do it." Morocco finished sheepishly, his smile morphing into an uncomfortable grimace.
"Oui. He will definitely, totally, obviously not like that." Cameroon stated in the most flattest, joyless voice that South Africa had heard on him all day..
"I never thought I'd hear you say 'totally'." South Africa couldn't help the comment, smiling in amusement.
"That's not the point." Cameroon said sharply, narrowing his eyes. "Someone will have to hold him back while we convince him that it's not really worth getting angry for."
"Yes."
"Oh, definitely…"
No one spoke for a few moments, but to the three of them, they knew exactly what the other two were thinking.
"I will restrain him." Cameroon decided bluntly, his tone showing that nothing will change his voice.
"I'll talk him out of incinerating Switzerland." South Africa quickly stated with confidence.
"And I'll be there to prevent either side from provoking the other into killing them, prepare soothing tea, and provide any kind of comfort if needed." Morocco announced with his usual serene manner, smiling through it all as always.
"Good."
"Perfect."
"Sounds splendid."
…
"Hey, does anyone know where Switzerland is, anyway?" South Africa asked drowsily, looking around after barely stifling a yawn. "I feel like I haven't seen him in a while…"
"I believe he's still with Haiti, watching France be in pain." Morocco answered nonchalantly.
"He cited his reasons as, and I quote 'Be there to have the mop ready because I not going to have any more bloodstains in my property'." Cameroon recounted blankly, although there was a glint of irritation in his eyes.
"Oh… right." South Africa blinked twice and changed his position on the sofa. "Eish, I really am out of it."
"Why don't you take a nap, Chris?" Morocco suggested in concern, then he smiled sweetly. "I'll even let you lie down your head here in my lap, I'm sure Abby won't mind."
South Africa grinned wide. "That's sweet of you, Rahim. But no thank you. And how's Abby doing, anyway?
Morocco smiled, petting the said cobra's head, "He is doing better, thank you for asking."
Abarshane then hissed his thanks at South Africa, nodding his cute little head, while the nation smiled back.
"I am being serious about you taking a nap though," Morocco stated in a more serious tone of voice, smile falling. "While you fought well against Russia, he did manage to roughen you up a little. Anubis struck you. And now, you're exhausted from doing your best to heal our injuries. I'm sure Switzerland won't object to that.
"You should rest," Cameroon agreed, the concern in his voice near unnoticeable to anyone who did not know him well, nodding. "It'd be better for you if you rest now and return home with full strength. All of us should rest."
"Ja… A nap does sound tempting…" South Africa chuckled dryly, his lips curling up in a devious but tired smile. "Wouldn't want to fall asleep while Namibia's up yelling in my face, would I?"
"Ah, yes, you're planning on confronting your neighbors for intruding your home, right?
"That's the plan."
"All the more reason why you should rest now, then," Morocco's voice drops to a soft whisper as he leaned forward. "Go. Sleep, Chris. I think you'll need every ounce of to scare your neighbors to death."
Chuckling, South Africa started to get into a more comfortable position. "Ha… You know what? You're right. I'll go… sleep for a few hours... or maybe twenty... or a hundred…"
He really doubted he could properly yell at Khoisan, the damn little traitor, argue with him, and then terrify his dear, kind, polite (ha!) neighbors in the best way possible… by being himself.
Resolve made and without any anger, South Africa closed his eyes and fell asleep with a peaceful smile.
He'll deal with them soon enough.
/ / / / /
Morocco was being completely honest with his words.
Despite how it ended, and that his beloved stubborn brother had once again rejected his offer of staying with him in a life of eternal happiness and bliss, Morocco was happy enough with how he spent his time with Tunisia. He cherished every minute he had spent with Tunisia, explaining the depths of his own cruelty, showing him how much he's loved by him…
He brought his fingers to his lips, brushing against the skin. He could still taste his brother. Trembling in pleasure , he grinned horribly.
But then there was France. Oh, France…
Who would've thought that in the same day Morocco was told that he and the others would be forced to 'tone down' their revenge that they would end up capturing the very frog himself at the end? Oh, what luck!
While Morocco would absolutely take sweet delight in crushing the frog's bone and spirit with his foot and his soft words respectively, and it definitely would serve as a great outlet, he and Cameroon have both agreed that Haiti deserved to have France to himself for a while. They already had a bit of fun with the fool, it's only fair that Haiti would be allowed some time alone with France as well.
Besides, it'll be much sweeter for Morocco to begin torturing after he had fully recovered from his injuries and when he knew that his poor Abarshane had fully healed.
He permitted himself a brief display of anger as he hissed hatefully, cursing her name. Morocco's veins burned with the complete hatred of his pathetic sister that he had not often allowed himself to fully express the extent of. But her crime had snapped that deliberate suppression and caused it to come with a vengeance.
Algeria will pay for what she did, he swore. Morocco will make her finally fear him.
Ah, but that's a task for another day, he's afraid. For now, it's of utmost importance to him to remain here with his dear friends until they were all good shape.
"Rahim." Spoke once again Cameroon, this time sounding somber. Morocco snapped up and was surprised to see him looking ashamed, the taller man lowering his head. "I want to tell you that I'm deeply sorry."
"Hm?" Morocco blinked, tilting his head in curiosity. "What are you apologizing for?"
"What am I…? Rahim, have you forgotten?" Cameroon snarled, seemingly almost angry at Morocco's cluelessness. He quickly rescinded that snarl, however, when he realized how loud he was and that South Africa was asleep next to them, and returned to his angry ashamed expression. "I promised you that I'd be there to protect you and make sure no one interfered with you and Tunisia. I said I'd make sure you wouldn't be hurt, but I…"
At this, Morocco's eyes widened slightly. "Ah… That."
"Oui… that." Cameroon frowned, a genuinely sad one. "I failed. I wasn't there with you. My anger got the best of me while I was trying to crush the frog, so I forgot about you. And when I finally remembered, I found you injured. Everyone except France wound up escaping us in the end... I failed you in many ways today."
…So, that's what it was.
Oh dear, in the height of his euphoria, satisfaction and all the action, it appeared that Morocco had forgotten about that little promise after he dragged his adorable unconscious (completely defenseless) little brother away to here where he could be loved without any interruptions.
Or at least, that was the plan until Hungary came barging in her usual amusing yet annoying manner. But eh, it was great while it lasted.
He had, in fact, noticed that Cameroon wasn't following him to the house, but to his now dismay, he had hardly spared a thought for that detail as he had been too focused on bringing his brother to the desired location. Even so, Morocco had assured himself that either way Cameroon was fulfilling his promise by remaining behind to fight the other nations, preventing them from going any further.
Not to mention tormenting France in his stead.
So, yes, the matter kind of flew over his head in the end. But now, staring long and hard at the way Cameroon had his head bowed in shame, his teeth clenched and overall just have self-deprecation and anger written all over him… Morocco had also forgotten how the 'failure' to be at his side would affect Cameroon.
Well then… He'll just have to fix that.
Determined to wipe that self-deprecation off his friend's face, Morocco smiled kindly and spoke gently, "Oh, Cammy, I really do appreciate how much you care for my safety. But you have nothing to apologize for! I don't blame you for anything."
Shocked, Cameroon whipped his head up to gape at him, wide-eyed. "What? H-How could you say that, Rahim?"
"Well, you did help me and help assure my safety." Morocco's smile broadened, chuckling. "You were the one who threw Tunisia right into my trap, weren't you? And you stayed to fight, therefore preventing the other nations from getting past and possibly hurting me."
"But Hungary reached the house anyways. She interrupted your time with Tunisia and hurt you." Cameroon quietly growled, burning with hatred at the woman.
"Ah, but that wasn't your fault, Cammy. The impundulu weren't quick enough to catch her, and Anubis ended up being more formidable than we thought." Morocco sighed in dismay, but he quickly returned to his smiling.
Cameroon's eye twitched. "I got distracted with France. I forgot about you."
"But you came back in the end, remember?" He reminded him in a soft voice, mindful of the snoring South Africa. "That alone warms my heart."
"Tunisia and the others wound up escaping." Cameroon stated with a bitter anger.
"We won either way, didn't we?" Morocco pointed out innocently.
"We could've had more prisoners if we had won the battle."
"But this way we have an advantage over the enemy, and we have caught France too as a bonus!"
Morocco couldn't help but inwardly pump his fist in the air in victory when he could tell in the conflict raging in Cameroon's eyes that the handsome giant had run out of arguments.
"Even though you weren't there to prevent the interruption, I still had plenty of quality time with my brother." He sighed happily, clasping his hands together. "Oh, you should've seen him, Cam. His tears, how he trembled in my arms, his desperate cries of denial… He tasted so sweet. I've never been so intimate with him before."
And that was just the beginning…!
"Cammy…" He narrowed his eyes a bit, his smile becoming a bit playful. "Please. I am not angry, so you shouldn't be angry with yourself."
Cameroon's frown deepened. "But…"
"What did I say, Cam?"
They both engaged in a sort of staring contest, waiting until one either snapped or ran out of patience. Eventually, Cameroon let out a long sigh.
"…Fine. I won't stay mad at myself any longer." Cameroon conceded, sighing while Morocco broke into a full grin at this. The tall African then stared at him with an iron expression. "But I swear that the next time you require protection, I will be there for you."
Morocco gladly nodded. "Very well. Oh, I really do wish you'd let me kiss you, Roshaun. Such a kind, handsome man like you deserves a nice thank you kiss."
Cameroon gave him a completely flat look. But when Morocco expected the typical rejection, he was surprised when he heard, "Compromise. A hug."
Morocco beamed at this, his grin grew impossibly wider. "Deal."
He made sure that Abby had slithered off him before he shot up from his place in the sofa as Cameroon a little more slowly did the same, and immediately wrapped his arms around his stone-faced friend, who soon returned the gesture.
"Oh, you smell so nice, Cameroon."
"…Rahim, would you please keep your hands above my waist?"
"Hee-hee! My bad…"
/ / / / /
Haiti never knew it was possible to feel this pleased and frustrated at the same time.
Here was the man he hated the most in front of him, writhing and yelling of the pain of having his insides stung by a needle over and over, made possible by Haiti furiously stabbing the frog's doll in its small abdomen repeatedly all over. He should be enjoying this, laughing at this. No. Haiti was enjoying this. He got to take all his frustrations and anger out on France. But he wasn't laughing.
Yes, you heard that right, ladies and gentlemen. He's relishing France's delicious pain, but he wasn't even smiling. This shouldn't be possible! Shouldn'tShouldn'tShouldn'teverever be possible! Why? Why? Why?
Why?
Look at him.
France lost. There's no hope for him now. He threw it all away in a stupid pointless sacrifice that he made just to make himself look good.
And yet for some reason, he still hadn't broken down in tears. He still hadn't begged for mercy, or even crying out meaningless apologies to his little brother. Not even tears of despair! Haiti sneered. What's wrong with him?
And worse yet, every so often, while France stumbled and quivered from his agony, he would slowly look up at Haiti.
There was no fear to be found in France's eyes.
No anger.
No despair.
Just… sadness and pity.
He hated that look.
"Well?" Haiti demanded.
France's head rose again, despite the needle 'lodged' in his stomach.
"Did you lie to America? Did one of your fellow idiots hex him into suddenly pitying you and fall into the illusion that you
France stared, blinking, and then he grimaced. "I thought… Switzerland… told you…
"I want to hear it from you." Haiti snapped. Switzerland could be wrong, he told himself. The only way to know for sure was…
There was no reply. Haiti was about to stab yet again to force the answer out of him, but he stopped when he heard France's hoarse voice.
"I-I… I didn't lie…" He paused, wincing and clutching his stomach, while Haiti remained frozen staring wide-eyed, waiting for his answer. France looked up again, brave. "Not even… once. I would never…"
Snarling, Haiti stabbed him in the breast time, and smiled ferally at the screams.
/ / / / /
"…You are scared of me now, aren't you?" Igbo found himself asking Western Sahara. The question made her freeze while she was preparing the tea.
Igbo wasn't blind, nor was he too tired to see signs. Even in the aftermath of enduring, he could see it.
Western Sahara helped him onto a bed while he was unconsciousness, tentatively looked after him and helped change his bandages even after he woke up. And Igbo couldn't describe how grateful he was with undeserved kindness. But anyone with a good eye could see, the tenseness in her shoulders, and the conflict in her eyes.
She was scared.
He did not blame her. He did not even resent her in the slightest for it. After all, it was only a matter of time before Nigeria corrupted him into attacking her or worse, no matter how much Igbo preferred to think positively. It was probably for the best that she kept her distance
But of course, Western Sahara looked appalled at the idea. "Wha- I am not scared of you. Where on–"
"Safiyya, please, don't try to spare my feelings," Igbo pleaded weakly, putting the effort to muster up a smile for her sake. "I… understand."
"N-No, you don't–"
"No. Part of me was expecting this to happen sooner or later, but I want you to know that I do not begrudge you for it."
"Stop it! What have I told you about spouting nonsense, y-you fool?!" Western Sahara shouted, even stuttering slightly when glaring at him. "Do I really have to repeat the same thing a million times after all?"
"Perhaps," Igbo said absentmindedly, before feeling his expression harden. "But I'm not blind, Safiyya."
"It's not–"
"You don't need to feel bad, my friend. It is a natural reaction," He tried to comfort her, seeing she already on her way to being on the verge of frustrated tears. Igbo loathed himself for being the cause, but it needed to be said. "You've seen the monster I can become whenever Nigeria desires it. And now you know that such a thing could happen at any moment. You have every right to be scared of being near me."
If there ever were a truer combination of anger and pain, it would be the way Western Sahara was currently gazing at him through barely restrained glares and, likely, yelling. She clenched her teeth, and then slowly unclenched them to close her mouth, her expression became calmer but still pained.
Now she appeared sad.
"…You don't scare me, Ike. Never." Western Sahara somberly said, leaning against the counter. "I admit that what happened shook me, and I'd much rather not go through it again. But that doesn't mean I'm terrified of being near you."
Igbo felt obligated to protest that she should be, having every right to feel that way, but Western Sahara contined.
"But that man, the monster wearing your skin, the twisted mockery of your kind self that Nigeria made you into… A near clone of him that attacked me, laughed at my pain, happily talked about he wanted to torture me so badly, who ruthlessly wrenched any chance of me ever seeing my family anytime soon from me, and took sick joy over how Nigeria was making you the things you were doing…"
Western Sahara paused, trailing off, and breathed. From his tired vision, Igbo was only a little certain that he could see her hands trembling. It was difficult to tell if it was from anger, fear or something else. Igbo did not fault her for anything.
"Now, he scares me."
Igbo said nothing to that, instead feeling his previously and carefully calm expression morph into a frown. It's a completely understandable statement, but it still pricked his heart.
He truly didn't lie or exaggerate when he said to her that he had full memory and awareness of what he did, the disgusting, horrible things he'd do under Nigeria's control. The memories were vivid and clear as day. He always remembered, Nigeria made sure that he always did.
The sheer pleasure he derived from the look on Western Sahara's face when he single handedly ended any chance she had or
How good it felt to kick her pretty face as she demanded answers for his actions.
The indescribable amount of delight he felt in his heart as he shot lightning and more lightning at her as she yelled for him to come to his senses, imagining what she would look like, covered in third-degree burns, her ruined twisted in pain pain pain–
The… change… if he could call it that, was somewhat difficult to describe, despite him having been put through that horror well over two dozen times over the past few decades since Nigeria decided that he couldn't trust any of them to remain loyal to him. One second he's himself, then there's this… feeling of dread, sometimes he could hear Nigeria's voice and… and then in the next moment Igbo would feel a rush of warmth… feel at ease in a way he never felt in his life… and smile.
Many times Igbo would muse that everything would be easier and even less painful if Nigeria turned him into a mindless puppet, to at least be granted the mercy of unawareness of his crimes, have any recollection of them, or utterly relishing in his actions. Yes, that would be preferable, wouldn't it? That way wouldn't have to experience the feeling of suddenly enjoying doing Nigeria's bidding.
But alas, Nigeria had little understanding or care of the concept of mercy, and what better way than to punish Igbo for his treachery than to subject him to near-constant paranoia and cause him to be wracked with guilt?
Part of him wanted to correct Western Sahara in regards to referring his malicious self as if 'he' were a different person. It wasn't like that. It wasn't. It wasn't as if he was trapped behind a prison in his own mind while he watched himself move. That was him doing all those things, even if he was twisted into doing so. That was why he referred to it as corruption.
But selfishly, the words refused to leave his mouth. As irreparable the damage to their friendship was, Igbo refused to make it any worse.
However, regardless of his silence, it did not change the fact that–
"But you're not him, that monster is not you." Western Sahara's voice cut through his thoughts, and he jerked back in surprise. He snapped his head up and was met with Western Sahara smiling at him. "I know you'd never hurt me."
Stiffening, Igbo desperately forced him not to give into the tears that threatened to leave. He heard his voice crack, "Safiyya…"
"Y-You might think it's you, but it isn't. It is not. It's ridiculous. You wouldn't do any of those things. The only reason you did was because he made you want to do them. I may feel a little… unnerved by what happened, but I will never stop caring for you when you're hurt no matter what foolish things you do. You are kind, kind man who has been put through too much pain."
"I…"
"You are one of my dearest friends, and that will not change. I am there for you just as you are there for me. " "Now shut up about that fear nonsense, stop drowinsing yourself in guilt and try to live on… At least do it, for me."
Igbo failed to control himself, and finally, the tears fell. "I'm sorry… I…"
She narrowed her eyes. "Apologize again, and I'll smack you."
"I don't deserve your kindness." Igbo said grimly to Western Sahara.
"No, you didn't deserve to be placed with such a horrible curse," His friend retorted, looking at him pointedly as if daring him to challenge her, while she made her way towards him with the cup of tea in her hands.
"I tried to separate from Nigeria, to rebel, and failed." He stated simply, having long grown desensitized to being reminded of his failure. Quite brutally too. "A harsh punishment is always expected from such actions."
"Oh, for the love of Allah, you don't actually think you deserve this, do you?" Western Sahara said exasperatedly.
"For betraying Nigeria? No…" Igbo frowned, shaking his head and ignoring the painful buzz that struck him for a brief second, but then his expression darkened. "But for causing my people to be put through starvation, have their homes burned down and be put through endless brutality and death? Yes. I do deserve every ounce of this suffering."
Western Sahara's eyes showed pain and sympathy as she looked at him. "Don't say that. It is not your fault. And here, have some tea. It should help soothe your headache."
Igbo smiled, putting the effort to more or less sit up straight. "Thank you, Safiyya."
A ghost of a smile crossed Western Sahara's face as she sat next to him, unafraid. "Don't mention it."
He legitimately did not know how to properly express his gratitude, so he elected to say nothing. He sipped the tea, and hummed. Hm. It tasted sweet. Western Sahara always made good tea, no matter how bitter or sweet she made it.
"I still can't believe he did that…" Murmured his friend, wringing her hands together angrily, "Do Prussia and Austria know? Would they even approve of such an extreme method even considering their history?"
Igbo stiffened, feeling a grimace, but managed to say his next words calmly enough. "Ah… They approved of the plan, actually."
If Western Sahara had been drinking tea too, Igbo had no doubt she would've done what people in the West call a 'spit take'.
"What?!" Western Sahara shouted, her eyes wide.
"They were unhappy with what I did as well, Safiyya." Stated Igbo in a harsher tone than he would desire, "Do not mistake their lack of sadism for goodness. Those two were willing to make sure there was absolutely no chance of information of the Order leaking out or anyone getting away with rebellion. You know this well too."
Western Sahara flinched, to Igbo's guilt, and she scowled at the ground. "I-I know, but it's more than that."
Igbo blinked, puzzled. "More than that how exactly?"
"What's more is how stupid the plan is. Putting pieces of his soul in four people at the cost of his humanity? Is he an idiot?"
"It's… well, I agree that…" Igbo trailed off when he realized that he didn't recall mentioning that detail. "Wait, how do you know about that? Did he-"
"Nigeria told me, yes. He told me how he loses his humanity the more his soul is broken apart. And he doesn't care."
"Yes…" Igbo said almost distractedly, memories of Nigeria gradually becoming crueler in nature coming to mind while Igbo and the others could only watch... "He doesn't."
"Why?!" Western Sahara practically shrieked, though her anger was understandable.
"He's had a long history of not having a lot of regard for his own well-being." He explained despondently, doing his best to suppress his memories of a sobbing Yoruba from his mind as he spoke. "Moreover, he was willing to go to great lengths to prevent another civil war, regardless of what that would do to his psyche."
And therefore prevent from his mind from becoming further fractured.
"…I don't agree with this method, but my objections don't matter in the slightest."
Western Sahara opened her mouth in what was probably going to be an objection to that statement but she soon closed it, likely realizing that no matter how many times she complained or objected to this horror for his sake, they would just return to the same conclusion that 'Nigeria and the rest of the Order, in their cruelty and pragmatism, were willing to do anything to prevent a breach of secrecy,'
Unfortunately, regardless of whether they liked it or not, neither of their opinions mattered to them.
"B-But I don't understand," Western Sahara spoke up, pressing a hand against her forehead, her expression confused. "Y-You went and delivered evidence to the enemy to help them against the Order, and Nigeria didn't notice until after it happened. How can that be?"
Oh right... It's also time to reveal the secret behind that.
"Ah… well, while I'm unable to overcome Nigeria's control or even resist the corruption for longer several seconds, I am able to block the link, albeit temporarily," Igbo began explaining calmly, making sure to do it in the simplest way possible. "Usually enough to get done whatever I need to do."
"R... Really? You can do that? Even when you can't resist his control?"
"It's harder than it sounds. And it usually depends on how much energy I possess and that I'm not mentally exhausted. I managed to stall the portion of Nigeria in me from realizing what I was doing until it was far too late to do anything about it. And no matter how much it frustrates him, he is unable to do anything about that brief resistance.
Western Sahara nodded slowly, face scrunched up slightly. "I see… Well, not really. But that said, I never understood this magic mumbo jumbo all that much…"
Igbo tried and failed to stifle a chuckle, and Western Sahara sent him a glare.
"Hey, don't laugh!" Western Sahara scowled, it was an expression that he's afraid to say that didn't look very intimidating. "But in all seriousness, I'm glad there you can at least find a way around that curse, even it's only temporary."
He nodded. "It does grant me a better sense of security…"
Western Sahara didn't seem to want anything more on that, only glancing away to the side for a second before fixing her gaze on him again. A look of what must be frustration crossed her face before she her mouth tightly into a thin line as if she was stopping herself from speaking, and then she finally settled for an utterly saddened expression.
"Please don't feel pained for my situation.
"I wish there could be something I can for you…"
"You're already doing plenty by." Igbo said earnestly, smiling sadly at his friend. "Your friendship has always granted me comfort and happiness in spite of all my troubles. I'm grateful for that. I cherish all our moments together. Thank you, Safiyya. Thank you for insisting on remaining friends with this foolish man."
Western Sahara smiled at him. It was a beautiful sight to behold. "Don't thank me. We are there for each other, aren't we, fool?"
Igbo chuckled breathlessly. "Yes. You are right."
He deeply hoped that won't change.
/ / / / /
Ukraine didn't have the stomach to eat right now.
She had politely declined the offer for food with a hopefully just as equally polite smile when it arrived, saying that perhaps she'll maybe save it for later. She's sorry, but she couldn't find it in herself to eat anything. It'll be so troubling for everyone if she threw it up later...
To be completely honest, Ukraine hadn't felt any appetite since... since she saw Bel...
No. It wasn't the state of her... c-corpse... even though what they did to her was sickening. Ukraine had seen worse in the years where life and Russia were most cruel to her. It's probably the grief. Grief can cause lack of appetite, right? Or was it just the lingering nausea? She wasn't sure, but she just... couldn't.
Monaco didn't pick anything either. And neither did Hungary, or Tunisia, but to be fair he didn't even show up even when Belize yelled after him.
Ukraine would rather keep fulfilling his promise to Romania and look after Moldova... who, coincidentally, also didn't seem to be hungry right now. Although, it's difficult to blame him after seeing the state of his brother's head right now.
Even after catching a glimpse again out of curiosity after already seeing the fresh injury a few times, Ukraine couldn't stop herself from cringing.
They placed Romania, Egypt and Liechtenstein (poor girl) on beds in one of the guest rooms upstairs. It was decided that they wouldn't be patched up, since the wounds will heal and vanish eventually, but there were a few exceptions. Hungary insisted on wrapping a bandage around Liechtenstein's head, and although it's too late to suck out the venom, Honduras and Ukraine herself volunteered to try to help with the swelling, the bleeding and the… ah… necrosis.
It was a miracle he was able to cling onto life for so long with that many bites… Either way, he'll need more time than the others to come back.
Anyway, they thankfully had the decency to completely cover Romania's head despite the resulting bloodstains, which Ukraine deeply appreciated. She would've done it herself if they had ignored it. While nations were capable of regenerating body parts, the process usually… wasn't very nice to look at. And she's sure that Moldova was shaken with having seen the damage done to his brother's head as it is.
She squeezed her hands together. A nation had done to his head. Not with a weapon, but with one swift punch. And it resulted in – in a large… chunk of his head being blow right off. It still unnerved her to think about it. Ukraine didn't think that any nation except for her brother and America was capable of that kind of strength. And it turned out that Cameroon had it? Who knows who else could also blow someone else's head off with a simple punch?
"How long do you think it'll take for Vlad to come back?" Moldova asked quietly as his eyes were glued to the prone figure on the bed before them.
Ukraine's sure that it might not be healthy for Moldova to stare sadly at his brother's corpse for too long, and she's even surer that Romania would not appreciate her letting Moldova see him this way. So she was reluctant to allow him to visit his brother, but in the end she decided that a few minutes in there might ease his worries.
Ukraine felt her fingers play with the bow of her blouse, standing next to the boy. "I... ah... I'm not sure, Moldova. At most, I'm sure he'll be alive again tomorrow plus a few more hours."
But then he'll need even more hours to recover what's likely going to be fatigue and maybe a headache. W-Well, or at least, that's what seemed likely to her. Ukraine honestly couldn't recall a lot of cases where nations died from head injuries that weren't headshots, blunt trauma or decapitation. Decapitation did take longer to recover from what she heard…
It truly broke her heart to see Moldova's downcast expression. "O… Okay…"
She sighed, having serious second thoughts right now about allowing him here. "Moldova, are you sure you want to be here? I don't think this is doing yourself any favors."
"I wanted to see Vlad…" said Moldova quietly, not looking at her.
"I understand that you want to be here for him, but I don't think he'd want to see you like this." "
"I-I know this is painful for you, but what matters is that they managed to bring him back." She reminded him in a more somber tone, deciding a bit of brutal honesty might be necessary for him. "And this… you do know that this isn't permanent. Vlad is coming back.""
"I know…" Moldova muttered sadly, lowering his head. "But I…"
"But what? What's wrong?" Ukraine asked in concern.
"...Hate seeing him like this…" She managed to catch Moldova murmuring, barely loud enough for her to hear. "I don't wanna be alone. It feels lonely without him and…"
Oh. Oh. So that's why he's like this. His worry for Romania wasn't the first main reason for his depressed mood, even though seeing his brother like this did hit him hard.
In a way… Ukraine supposed she could relate.
"And what about me?" Ukraine asked sternly, staring at him with hopefully without any hurt. "I've been here to support you. or... did you not like being with me?"
Moldova blinked twice, and immediately became appalled at the idea. "N-Nu! I liked being with you. You were nice to me, helped explain things. I-I really appreciate it. I didn't mean..."
"It's alright, calm down." Ukraine said softly, gently resting her hands on his shoulders.
"It's just... There isn't anyone else here I can… um… really talk to…."
"I understand."
Moldova blinked up at her in surprise. "You do?"
"Tak." Ukraine admitted not without feeling a pang of pain in her heart. "I do."
But she'd rather not elaborate on that right now. Not now when there's a hurting child and a corpse in front of them. This wasn't about her. It was too personal.
"I didn't agree to look after you out of pity, you know." Ukraine told him earnestly, hoping that he believed her. "I truly wanted to help you and explain to you the things Vlad didn't have the heart to explain. I was worried for your well-being too."
To her joy, Moldova didn't seem to doubt it as he needed. "I know... You wouldn't have helped me so much and tried giving me a piggyback ride if you did."
Ukraine smiled shakily, feeling herself sweatdrop a little at that little memory. She's grateful that he recognized her efforts. She still remembered the shock of pain sent through her body before the big crack too well…. Actually, her back still hurt.
"Good. I know the two of us, as well as your brother and I, have our disagreements, but none of that matters now. We need to be there for each other." Ukraine told him in a more stern voice, but she quickly softened. "And I'll continue to be there for you, regardless if Romania can or not do that for the moment."
Moldova looked up at her hopefully with wide eyes. "Really?"
"Really. Now, come on. How about we surprise Vlad when he wakes up with some very delicious food?"
"I… I think he'd like that."
"Tak. He will."
/ / / / /
Well, it's safe to say that America's happy with how things turned out with Georgia.
Actually, no, happy might be a bit of an understatement. Sure, he kind of had to reveal a little classified secret to get her to believe that they existed, but the two head honchos probably won't care as it got them the results they wanted.
This… This day, if you excluded the France thing, was going perfect. Ireland's on board. Georgia's on board. Two new eager members acquired in a day. And hopefully, hopefully, Molossia and Liberia haven't burned down the house again for the fifth time this decade. If America came back to Nevada to find everything just dandy and unbroken, then this day would be one of the best ever.
Now he just needed to pick her up, and then maybe he could call it a day until the invasion tomorrow. That way he'll have plenty of time to completely prepare her to face off against the General. It's perfect.
"Hey, Al!"
America instinctively cringed, and he whipped his head back to see Turkey cheerfully waving at him as he approached.
"Sadik, what the hell are you doing out here?" America asked flatly with an equally flat look. It's not he had anything against Turkey, it's just… he's Turkey. "I thought you were inside."
"Correct, Alfred! I was inside, but now I'm not." Turkey said holding up an index finger, before throwing his head back in hearty laughter. If there was a camera, America would slowly turn to stare at it with a deadpan look. "I decided to take a bit of a break."
Bullshit. America raised an eyebrow. "You? Take a break from torturing? Sell it to someone who'll buy it, Sadik."
"Hey, hey, no need to get snappy, Al." Turkey laughed some more, holding up his hands in surrender. "If you must know, I just wanted to talk to ya, buddy! That such a crime?"
"Is that so?" America said skeptically, and his eyes went over to the door. "How's it going in there, anyway?"
"Great! Just fantastic! One of the greatest shows of pain and despair that I've seen in recent years, I think I busted a gut from laughing too hard!" And of course, on cue, Turkey started laughing while America sweatdropped. Jeez. "Too bad you didn't stay long. You just missed seeing Georgia cut off Abkhazia's–"
"What do you want, Sadik?"
"Hey, I'm getting to that!" Turkey barked, then went back to grinning. "Anyway, real fun stuff. Gore, the fresh stench of blood, etcetera, etcetera. I think DImitri went a bit too overboard with South Ossetia, now Finland's complaining that they'll have to be more careful with him."
"Overboard is a mild word I'd use to describe the things Dimitri would do if you got hurt in any way." America then scowled, and he slowly turned that scowl toward Turkey. "And speaking of, what the hell is this I'm hearing about Bulgaria wanting to chop up a Moldova into a million pieces and serve them to Romania?"
Bafflingly, instead of just responding in the usual Turkey way, the guy stared at him with confusion. "How did you hear about that? I don't remember telling you that."
"Iceland told me, said he heard it from Norway, who was told by Saudi, who was informed of that whole crap by you." America hissed with more venom than he intended, but he could care less about that right now.
"Oh really? Wow, word gets around fast."
"That's not the point! Now answer me: What the hell?" America demanded, trying his very, very best to suppress any anger the 'hero' part of him felt about this.
To his frustration, Turkey waved it off. "Eh, nothing important. It's a work in progress, and Dimitri's getting new ideas every half-hour."
"Sadik…" He warned. This wasn't a joking matter.
Turkey groaned. "Fine. Long story short: Romania insulted me to Dimitri's face, so now he wants to get back at his former bestie through Moldova."
America's jaw dropped. Oh, he should've known…!
"Un. Believable."
"I know. He's learning how to get more creative ways of revenge instead of just lashing out! I'm so proud of him." Turkey proclaimed overdramatically, complete with sniffing and wiping away a nonexistent tear.
America shifted uncomfortably. He'll feel, but this was just stupid. "Moldova's just a kid, dude."
"So? So were some of the Caribbean nations, but you didn't seem to have shed a lot of tears over them."
"It's not that. I don't… care if we're offing kids," America huffed, crossing his arms defensively. He frowned all the same. "But are you seriously going to let Bulgaria torture poor Moldova just because of a snarky comment Romania made about you?"
"I don't have anything against the kid, but I don't care what happens to him." Turkey freely admitted in a calm tone and smile no sane person would use. "This is war, kid. Besides, I think I'm liking this whole hatred that's blossoming between Bulgaria and Romania. Looking forward to see how that goes."
America's trigger fingers twitched, so he pushed down those feelings with all his might. "Okay. You know what? You're right. I'm not in the mood to argue with you about this. I'm still burned out from having a similar argument with Chris, Adigun and Haiti. I'm sorry, okay?"
He ignored the surprised look Turkey gave him.
What the hell's he doing? He's acting like a dumb hero again. France's case was reasonable, but this was just ridiculous.
Don't tell him he's becoming goody-goody thanks to what happened with France. He may be a 'safe' nation, he may feel really bad for Moldova since the kid's done nothing wrong here, but this was going too far. But… yeah, Turkey and Bulgaria were also going too far and… gah. America hated this.
Come on. Think about it, America. What if the enemy found out about Vilnius? You think they'll care if she's just a little kid? You think Russia will care? Every nation have kids' blood on their hands, no matter how righteous or innocent they claim to be. They won't even hesitate to hurt her out of spite or revenge.
So why should he try to stop what they're doing with Moldova?
But. Wait. Wasn't America trying to stop… Oh, you know what? Maybe it's better if he stopped thinking about this before he tore his hair out in frustration,
"No need to, Al." Turkey at least smiled at him. "And hey, come on, cheer up. You should be happy! Bedisa certainly is. And you know what tomorrow is!"
"Don't I know it…" America muttered with his lips twitching up in a smile, feeling some of his grumpiness start going away. "I need to finish the preparations."
"You're gonna go pick up that crazy chick, right?" Turkey asked with a sly smirk. "The General's hot date."
As a guy who is kind of shameless in his love for all puns good or lame, America couldn't resist briefly cracking up at that line, which made Turkey chuckle in turn. Jeez. Well, guess that's one way to look at it. Couldn't imagine the lady herself appreciating the remark too much though.
"You gonna take Georgia with you? Ya know, finally seal the nail in the coffin about how powerful our side is?"
"If she wants to," America shrugged, smiling slightly. "But I think she will. We want her to completely believe that the odds are against Russia. So, if she wants some last proof, then I'll be happy to give her some."
Turkey gave him a sly grin, the annoying kind. "She won't be pleased to see you bring a girl, you know."
"Don't I know it," He sighed, already dreading the inevitable jealous rage. "She already hates North, and I don't want her to spew ash all over the place... again."
Turkey must've found that hilarious somehow, because he burst into boisterous laughter, the really annoying kind. And he clapped America on the shoulder.
"Oh, it can be hard sometimes, right, Alfred? Having people who would burn the whole world for you and worse. It's so adorable, but you have to keep them well trained." Turkey sighed fondly as if he was talking about a mischievously pet while America felt plain uncomfortable. "And that girl you have's a bit tough to handle even knowing that she really likes you, especially when she's real pissed off."
"I can handle her. She's loyal. Well, obsessively loyal, but loyal." America replied sharply, feeling just the tiniest bit offended at the possible implication that he couldn't. "Just wish she wasn't so..."
"Fiery?"
"You're not funny."
"Ah, relax, Alfred. You know I can relate to your little issue," Turkey waved his hand and for some reason felt the need to pull America even closer to him. The blonde seriously hoped that Bulgaria wasn't going to barge in on them like this. "My boyfriend's a cute wittle nutcase at my beck and call, your girlfriend is a cute wittle hot mess at your beck and call…"
"She's not my girlfriend!" America snapped, before warily checking his surroundings. "And don't you dare say that when North's just a door away,"
"Ha! With those screams? I doubt he could even hear us making fun of his girly braid." Turkey snorted, grinning wide without a care in the world, causing America's eye to twitch.
"You're unbelievable." He said in the flattest voice he could manage.
"Aw, thanks! Anyway, as much as a troublesome of a woman she can be, no one can deny she cares about you. Still, be careful out there, you hear?"
"You don't need to tell me twice." America replied, scoffing. "But thanks."
"That's what I like to hear."
/ / / / /
When the Netherlands finally came back to the world of the living, consciousness came slowly.
He woke up with the dull pain that seemed to encompass his head, particularly a spot in his forehead, and in other certain parts of his heavy body. His forehead, his stomach (especially his stomach), his neck, shoulder… Why was that, he wondered? In his half-asleep state, he could almost convince himself that he must've gotten himself into some kind of accident. But the pain, along with this strange urgency that he couldn't really pinpoint helped slowly guide him back to reality.
Something's wrong, he very slowly began to realize. Something in him seemed to scream at the Netherlands to get up, to get going. Yes, something's seriously wrong here…
To start with, he realized that he died. That was enough to send him in a spiral of confusion and panic.
As more time passed and Netherlands returned to Earth, the panic got worse.
Seconds or minutes later, he recognized that he had his face stuck on the damn floor. Groaning in his fatigue, Netherlands put it what energy he had right now to push himself up. Dammit, move. And after another few seconds passed, and Netherlands finally realized he could hear another voice, familiar, comforting, calling out his name.
"Wh… Where am I? What… Who…?"
Pushing himself off the ground and stumbling back, Netherlands groaned further and shut his eyes at the dizziness that followed. He heard his name being called again, louder. When he did open his eyes, he was greeted by a familiar but alarming sight crouching next to him.
"…Lars!"
The Netherlands' eyes blinked, then they widened.
"Lux?"
Relief seemed to wash over the shaken visage of his brother's face, but he didn't calm down. "Lars! Oh, thank goodness you're up. Are you okay? You– I was–"
"I… No, I'm not okay." Netherlands grit his teeth, not hoping the brutal honesty. "What… happened, Lux? Did I… die? And what… what the hell happened to you?"
The franticness disappeared from Luxembourg, to be replaced helpless uncertainly. "I-I don't know. I thought you – The last thing I remember was South Africa and then…"
The color then drained from his brother's face. Afraid. He looked so…
Wait. Wait a second. South Africa…
Just like that, all the memories hit him and all remaining sleepiness found itself slammed right out of the Netherlands.
Visiting a scared traumatized Belgium, Luxembourg screaming, finding Luxembourg's corpse on the floor with South Africa standing over him, smiling in a chilling way Netherlands had never seen him do before (why why how did could you hide that from me?). He remembered DRC showing up out of nowhere, coolly announcing his intentions of taking Belgium for his revenge. South Africa biting into his neck, shooting him in the stomach while DRC escaped, talking and rubbing Netherlands' helplessness in his life…
He never knew his former colony was capable of such cruelty and resentment.
The adrenaline rammed into him, and before he could think things clearly, Netherlands scrambled to his feet, completely ignoring the pain that lit up in his stomach. He saw Luxembourg jump and rush toward him to stop him from collapsing when he felt his knees buckle. But Netherlands could care less about his weakness right now.
South Africa shot him dead. Belgium's gone.
"H-Hey, easy now, Lars." Luxembourg said worriedly as he supported the taller nation.
"N-Nee! You don't understand–"
But he didn't understand any of this either. He didn't understand why South Africa would help DRC. He didn't understand how the Netherlands couldn't have seen any hint of South Africa's true nature in all the years he raised him and after.
It hurt. The injuries South Africa inflicted on him, the way he cackled at his helplessness, acting nothing like the bipolar but well-meaning boy the Netherlands knew well.
"What are you talking about? Lars, what's going on?" Luxembourg demanded in a more exasperated tone that's uncharacteristic for him but understandable given the situation. "I died a-and then you died. I wake up to find you dead not far from me, I can't find Emma anywhere a-and… a-and…"
Luxembourg didn't know. He saw South Africa, he got killed by him, but he didn't know anything else. Despite this, Netherlands went wild.
"E-Emm…" Netherlands trailed off into coughs, grimacing in disgust at the faint taste of blood in his own mouth. When it passed, he abruptly grabbed Luxembourg's shoulders and frantically, started to shake him. "Emma! Michael, Emma's gone! They took her! They–"
What do they want? Where's Portugal and Indonesia? What have they done with them and Belgium? How could South Africa do this?
"Who? Who took her?" Luxembourg demanded.
"South Africa and the Democratic Republic of the Congo! They killed us and they kidnapped her!"
"What? Why?" Luxembourg exclaimed in surprise, and then winced. "G-Guh! L-Lars, please let me go…!"
"Congo wanted her, he said he wanted revenge. It doesn't matter!" Netherlands started saying too quickly. "South Africa killed me too, after he killed you and I tried to stop them. I saw them take Emma away, all beat up and…"
"But… why…"
"It doesn't matter," Netherlands said quickly, interrupting him, and he looked around frantically. "Where are they? Where'd they go? They couldn't have gotten that far!"
"I don't know!" Luxembourg snapped, with the Netherlands too absorbed in his emotions to notice how his brother was becoming exasperated. "I told you, I woke up and you were dead and Emma was gone. I have no idea, so– please, please slow down and tell me what happened!"
Netherlands almost immediately wanted to protest, that there wasn't any time. But as the sluggishness that came with coming back to life left, rational Netherlands came back, and a whole new sense of dread soon overtook him. He could feel his legs.
But then, what would be the point? Neither the Netherlands nor Luxembourg had any idea where South Africa and DRC could've gone. For all they knew, they could've left the country already. It'd be stupid if they were still in the country. They could've flown out of here an hour ago! And Netherlands had no idea where to look, and no hope to ever find her soon.
Hell, now that he thought about it, how in the world did those two travel all the way here without Belgium even noticing? There's no possible way she could've missed that.
And since… since the government and monarchy's been wiped out and the country's plummeting into unrest and disorder, there's no one who could help, much less give a damn about looking for their missing nation.
There's… nothing they could do.
For the first time in quite a few decades, the Netherlands felt utterly defeated.
He could almost hear South Africa's laughter again, and he growled.
/ / / / /
Somewhere else, someone had just finished drawing her latest nightmare.
A dark-skinned girl, skinny, with curly hair, and in her late adolescent years, wearing clothes fitting of the warm climate of her home, let out a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding when the drawing was done to the last detail.
"…Aaaand d-done. Finally done, finally, finally…" She breathed in sharply as her quivering hands held the paper in front of her, trying to force the bile to stay down. "J-Just need to put it here with the rest of them now…"
The girl not so gently put the piece of cardboard down with the pile of ever-growing artworks she had forced herself through making, eager to get her eyes off it. That must've been the worst one yet. And she had seen a lot of terrifying visions.
Ever since her brother left for the war, she had been getting nothing but frightening dreams and flashes of things she couldn't even bring herself to describe. With her pencil she had hastily scribbled the words and drew the figures before the memories could leave her.
She wished the memories would leave immediately, at last as soon as she finished, but they never did. Many of them stuck around like nasty scars.
She never liked the gift. She never asked for it, but it's 'no takesies backsies' for her. And she supposed that's what she deserved for being an idiot who's too curious for her own good.
But she did find happiness in the fact that it helped her brother out, help prove that she wasn't a waste of space, even made him smile more often. And she had seen her brother die more than once, too many times. One time she even saw him suffer a fate worse than death. She had a harder time forgetting that. So… she definitely wouldn't want that, no, please, please, she didn't want any of those things to happen to him. She's happy to help. She'll do anything…!
He's strong, her older brother. Harsh, maybe too grumpy, but it's not his fault. Her people didn't understand, no one could understand. But she's there for him. He'll get better soon, when the new world's here…
Gulping, she brought her trembling hand to her mouth and looked away. She couldn't even look at the horror any longer.
"I-I should probably go call Mister Austria," She muttered to herself, encouraging her to scramble for the phone. Y-Yeah, she's done. Now she needed to call him to let him know that she had just finished a whole new bunch of these.
She hoped it'll help.
But still, the omen gnawed at her heart.
Someone, or maybe more if certain events happened, was going to die soon…
Welp, that's it for this arc! Boy, it was a long one. I hoped you enjoyed it! Expect yet another flashback chapter next time, this time it's going to be a little... different. Stay tuned! Please review!