November 25, 1936

Closer to Beginnings

The feeling was bittersweet. An unwelcome sour tinge to the sweet face it held as a mask. Poised in manner, charm in personality, cold in the heart.

That was the only way Kiku could explain Feliciano Vargas. The man, no, the boy, was nothing but a tyrant, quickly hiding his anger he felt with a smile and a wave. His boyish mannerism and charismatic qualities made him who he seemed to be, rather than who he was.

He shook his head. No, this was a new chapter, a new era. He mustn't think poorly of the ones who, no matter their direction, were helping him with his revenge.

He had never quite realized how messy signatures were. You were signing your name on a piece of paper that could be viewed by anyone, which then somehow meant you would all fight to the death together.

Not that any of them would die.

And not that it would always just be the three of them. No, if Kiku's plan worked and his military had it prepared in time for his return, there would be much more chaos than poor Ludwig and Feliciano would have ever predicted.

It all worked out quite well, actually. Now he had people backing him up in case things went horribly wrong, along with that damned Italy's new pull in Ethiopia.

He hadn't the slightest clue how he'd pulled it off. Not that Kiku ever involved himself with the mess of blood and battle, but Feliciano didn't seem like the type to fight.

None of them did, besides Ludwig. Kiku had his doubts about the angry German. He seemed to act in greed rather than due to actual intelligence, but he wasn't going to judge him before he saw his actions.

Just a year ago, the thought of a treaty like this would've made Kiku's heart race and his face pale. Now here he was, traveling across the world at the call of a stranger to sign a treaty of war.

What a glorious feeling.

Everything seemed to be cold. The earth, the air, his jacket, his body, all frozen over. Winter had barely begun, but this season was proving to be a horrible one indeed. Nothing could go well, and Ivan was bored.

He sat, skinny legs dangling where they couldn't quite reach the ground from his height on an icy barrel, watching the new-fallen snow getting trampled on by the shrieking, delighted kids.

"Ivan, sir, do you plan on ever leaving from atop there?" what looked like a ten year old boy asked, his friends embarrassedly making and breaking eye contact behind him.

"No, I'll be fine," he said, tilting his head and smiling cheerily. "Run along."

The boy nodded and backed away quickly, rejoining his friends in a snowball fight.

Ivan watched the people go by every day, never joining them. People viewed him as the lonely, sweet boy who sat atop the barrel, looking at the passing snow, thinking.

He wasn't thinking. In fact, Ivan had learned to shut his brain off when he didn't need it, wandering around in a blissfully unaware state of mind, nothing to bother or worry him.

His superiors hated his attitude towards things. Yes, Ivan was beyond intelligent and extremely malicious, but he acted like he couldn't care less.

Ivan wanted more.

"Get off from there," growled a female voice from below.

He recognized the person speaking, jumping down, landing perfectly in the snow without stumbling.

"You've become quite the character," she said, rolling her eyes.

Nobody bothered to ask if they were related, because they looked so similar. A light tan coloured hair, closer to grey and blonde than brown, eyes a light violet colour. Their skin was pale, being constantly covered by heavy cloaks, never in the sun, and they were both tall and skinny.

"Are you going to answer me?" she shrieked, hitting him with her purse.

He shook his head no, licking his lips slowly, as he kept staring at the ground.

She took her purse and smacked him harder across the arm. "Answer me!"

"Natalia, you're the one causing a scene here," he said, giggling under his breath. Those harsh eyes met hers and she shut up.

The street cleared for the two walking down, unbeknownst to them.

"He would like to see you," she said, voice softer.

Ivan nodded, knowing immediately who she was speaking of. It was his superior, if you could call someone of his mere standing a superior to Ivan.

He was the voice of Ivan, giving the face to the general media for words that needed to be heard. Ivan himself could never be seen, in case someone out there in the same state as him recognized him and knew of his location.

Russia was a vast country, spreading out many miles. As far as anyone knew, he could be anywhere in Russia, and then again, maybe he wasn't. Maybe he is in a nearby European country. Maybe he is your next door neighbor. Maybe he is behind you.

Nobody was ever quite sure, and the poor, average citizens wouldn't have the slightest clue. Still, Ivan and Natalia had to be careful. The average citizen could turn out to be anything but.

"Katerina is at home," Natalia said stiffly, patting down the fur of her coat.

The city feared them because they were what they wanted to be. Fame for seemingly no reason. Everyone knew of the Braginsky family name.

Donned in simple elegance, they made an entrance and an exit with every step. A pale snowflake, seemingly melting, or disappearing, before you could focus your eyes on them.

"Your friend also called again. Apparently, he's worried that they've teamed up with the Germans. Not sure what those krauts would be able to do to us, but he was insistent you call him back."

Ivan nodded again, mind not quite focused on what she was saying. "I will."

"He's a handful. Don't know how you put up with him."

"He's not that bad," he argued reasonably, shrugging his shoulders.

Natalia scowled. "I don't know why I bother talking to you. Get your head back down to earth."

Ivan stopped walking, turning to face her slowly. "Really?" he chuckled. "When my head comes out of the clouds, bad things tend to happen."

She reached out and grabbed his scarf, bringing his face mere inches from hers. "You're not in the clouds. That's where the good people go. You've got your head buried in the dirt, and when you come back to earth, bring hell back with you."

Ivan smiled, linking his arm with his sister's. "Oh, but hell is so comfortable."

Natalia laughed coldly, shooting a dark look at a frightened young couple. "Earth is where the real chaos is."

"Suppose you're right."

"Aren't I always?"

Footsteps echoed in the dark hallways. The sun had long since set, and Feliciano wandered alone throughout the building, looking for something he didn't even know.

The sound was low and quiet, sending chills up his spine with every whisper the floorboards emitted. The dead of night was quite a nerve-wracking time, after all.

In all truth, he missed his family. He missed home cooked meals, especially pasta, his grandfather singing drunken songs with him till early hours of the morning after the fun dinner party meetings, Lovino scowling at them both. He missed his brother a lot, even when Lovino would do nothing but smack him upside the head. They were close and cared for each other, no matter how tough times got. He missed all of his friends in the village and in the shops, Antonio, and the regular guests that stopped by to converse with Grandpa Roma.

Most of all, he missed feeling completely safe.

Even the sun's rays were dimly lit that day. Bleak, like they weren't even trying.

Feliciano could feel nothing but dread for the approaching hour. Of course, as soon as Ludwig entered the room, he quickly tucked that uneasiness away.

"Good morning," he said, giving him a half smile. "Sleep well?"

"Fine," Ludwig grumbled, not bothering to make eye contact before pouring himself a glass of water.

Feli hoisted himself up onto the counter, crossing his legs at the knees.

"Don't dirty up the kitchen," Ludwig said, still not looking at him.

"Sex," Feli said slyly.

He coughed, choking on the water. "Excuse me?"

"You said don't dirty up the kitchen," he giggled.

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "You're a vulgar boy, Feliciano."

Kiku strolled into the kitchen, keeping his head low as he bowed in greeting. "Sorry to interrupt. I'm not accustomed to-"

"It's fine," Ludwig interrupted, ushering for him to have a seat.

The two sat at the table, Feliciano staying up on the counter. An ashy grey cat strolled in, hopping up onto his lap.

A stern looking official walked into the room, adorned in the same military uniform for the entire German army. "We've received word."

"Good," Ludwig said. "And?"

"Everything is go, boss says. The empirical Japan and Fascist Italy will prove to be strong allies."

Feliciano smiled happily, still stroking the cat. He knew the feeling would be fleeting, but at least just for a second, he felt completely safe again. He was going to have full support from Japan and Germany. Italy's reign wouldn't be alone.

"There's only one problem, says boss," the official said nervously, taking out a file from beneath his arms.

It was more fleeting that Feli had imagined.

"Shoot."

Kiku locked eyes with Feli nervously, waiting for the catch that would either make or break the deal.

"Sir, according to this, we have a different motive for war than the Japanese troops. They're fighting simply for the sake of revenge from the Soviet district and rise of communism, we're in this to get back at the ones who have pulled us down."

Feliciano tilted his head to the side, confused. "Pulled you down? Germany is a stable country, nobody's been against you."

"You'd be wrong, mister," the official said. "That damn Versailles treaty took our land. It's simple, the boss wants it back."

"So you just want our help getting the land back?" Kiku asked. "That's fine."

"We will eliminate all not like us, so it's good you agree," the soldier threatened.

Feliciano laughed. "Was that supposed to be a threat?"

"It was. Those fucking Jews led to our defeat in World War One and we'll be damned if we let them win again."

"What kind of sick mindset is this?" Feliciano wondered.

"It's the mindset of boss. Of German pride. Take it or leave it."

"Ludwig?" Kiku said nervously, turning to face him.

Ludwig's face was unmoving, staring ahead at the wall with squinted, set eyes.

"Take it or leave it," the official repeated.

"We're just letting you know this," the official added. "For now, boss wants to focus on getting rid of the horrible communist wave spreading through Asia and parts of Europe."

"Why?"

"Because Communism messes with German power."

A stack of paper landed with a soft thump on the desk, shaking the weak legs. Each page listed, in much more words, exactly what the official had just clarified.

The treaty was called the Anti-Comintern Pact, but it might as well have read fight to live or fight to die.

The contents stated that for now, their mission would be to rid the world of communist pull, but Feliciano and Kiku knew better. This would mean war.