Alfred gasped and shuddered as he felt the poison run through his bloodstream, he stumbled around in the fog, desperate to find the stairs, however the pain in his head disorientated him. Alfred felt himself become paranoid, despite how hard he tried to remind himself to remain sane.
Alfred jumped back and squeaked when a dark figure dashed past him in the smoke, and Alfred couldn't tell whether it was another victim of the fog, or a figment of his imagination. Alfred felt the panic set in as he gritted his teeth and gripped his hair, terrified of what nightmare awaited him. He ran around the exhibit, desperate to find a way out, forgetting about the importance of timing his breath and so as he ran, he only breathed in more and more of the gas.
Alfred's knees fell weak and forced to the American to the floor, he coughed loudly as the bitter and sour taste of the gas stung his throat and lungs.
"Arthur…" Alfred wheezed, desperate to hear the Brit coming to save him, he needed a real hero now. Alfred felt himself begin to crumble as he fell into an emotional pit of despair and self-loathing. How dare he call himself agent hero, he wasn't worthy of that title at all, all he did was mess up and cause pain for everyone else.
Alfred began to crawl, desperate to find the staircase. He knew he couldn't have been exposed to the gas for more than ten minutes, he was nearing the dangerous level of exposure and he knew it.
He heard loud noises come from behind him, and Alfred knew that if he looked up, he was going to see something terrible.
Remain sane, he thought as he continued to crawl, remain sane… nothing can hurt you…
However, he could not fight his curiosity, and turned around, Alfred gasped at the sight of a crowd of dark figures surround him, staring down at him like he was an animal at the zoo. Alfred turned to his back and shuffled backwards, too afraid to break eye contact with the figures, who only stepped forward to keep in time with the petrified American.
"Back off!" Alfred hissed, "You're not real!"
Despite how much he reminded himself of his situation, he still became terrified of the figures who stood before him.
They were faceless and black, barely holding a humanoid shape. Instead of stepping forward to keep up with Alfred, the American would simply blink and the figures would be closer, shocking him after every time he blinked; driving him insane with fear.
Suddenly, the figures all flashed identical smiles that were unnaturally large and flashed razor sharp teeth.
"I SAID BACK OFF!" Alfred snapped as he blinked and saw the figures on their knees before him, Alfred kicked, only to scream at the sensation of them touching his legs as he frantically kicked as he laid trapped on his back, exposed like a turned-over turtle. He found himself no longer able to rationalise between what was real and what was not, to him, the nightmare was really happening to him.
"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!"
Alfred held his head and screamed as he felt their cold and sharp hands tickle all over him, whispering about him as though he were an experiment. He found himself unable to think about anything other than the crippling fear that consumed him, feeling his ability to rationalise run through his fingers and out of his grasp like sand. He couldn't understand what they were whispering about, nor did he want to find out, but the noise of it was driving Alfred crazy, as their voices to him sounded like nails running along a chalk board.
"STOP IT!" Alfred screamed, "STOP IT! YOU'RE NOT FUCKING REAL!"
Alfred suddenly found the strength to get up and run, not wanting to look behind at the monsters who followed him. As he ran through the area, he passed multiple other figures in the fog, not caring to find out whether they were real or only more figures of his nightmare.
Alfred struggled to keep reminding himself that it wasn't real and that it was only going to get worse as he stayed longer. Alfred fell flat on his face onto the polished wood of the staircase, and as he struggled to crawl up the stairs, he could feel the monsters gripping at his legs, trying to pull him back down.
Alfred knew that he had to stay strong as he could feel the presence of the gas become weaker as he climbed up the stairs, and he could hear voices coming from the exhibit hallway.
"ALFRED!" A familiar voice yelled.
It was him, Alfred gasped; realising that it was Arthur. It was with that, that Alfred finally used all of the strength that his numbed legs could muster, and kicked backward and crawled up the stairs. Despite the tugging feeling still holding him back, Alfred still made it up the stairs and used the walls to help him back to his feet.
"Arthur…" Alfred stuttered as he watched police officers with torches and gas masks run past him, however, it was only Arthur that maintained the power of Alfred's eyes.
"Alfred, you idiot! Where is your mask?!" Alfred gasped as he took Alfred into his arms as the American fell to his knees, taking Arthur down with him.
"Arthur, I can't tell what's real!" Alfred shuddered as he was engulfed by the warmth of Arthur's arms. Arthur took in a deep breath of filtered air, before taking off his gas mask and placing the plastic mask over Alfred's nose and mouth, encouraging the American to breathe in the filtered air weakly.
"You fucking idiot, come on; get up and get out!" Arthur growled, not taking any of Alfred's shit and forcing the American to rise to his feet. Hook Alfred's arm under his shoulder, Arthur led Alfred out.
"I'm sorry…" Alfred mumbled as Arthur led him through the hallway. Where the gas was noticeably weaker, he heard Arthur gasp as they passed some of the pieces and displays. "Arthur, you need this."
"You need it more, you loon," Arthur grumbled, visibly angry by Alfred's choice, "I can't fucking believe you did that! What the fuck made you stay in there without your mask?!"
Alfred's eyes dimmed as his memories returned to him, "There were kids down there…"
Arthur froze as he led Arthur out of the Globe Theatre, shocked by Alfred's admission; Arthur continued to lead Alfred towards the closest ambulance that was attending the scene, catching the attention of a paramedic.
"How long were you in there?" Arthur asked.
"I dunno, probably ten minutes…" Alfred answered as Arthur handed Alfred towards the paramedic, who gestured for Alfred to sit in the back entrance to the ambulance van.
"Please just check on him quickly, he's with MI6," Arthur explained to the paramedic, making sure that Alfred would become a priority patient.
"Minimum exposure…" the paramedic explained as he looked into Alfred's eyes, "pupils constricted… you must feel very afraid right now, can you see me clearly?"
"Yes," Alfred replied as the paramedic flashed a small light into Alfred's eyes, checking if they responded normally and dilated as a response to light.
"Ok, can you breathe normally?" The paramedic asked.
"It still hurts, the gas is strong, and bitter," Alfred replied.
"Hmm…" The paramedic murmured as he pressed his stethoscope to Alfred's chest, "rapid and shallow, weak pulse, dizziness: you're in shock."
"Yeah… I can feel it. I hallucinated while I was in there," Alfred pointed out. "I'm dizzy…"
"Then we'll have to give you a blood test." The paramedic explained.
"Will he be ok?" Arthur asked nervously.
"He's not the worse of who's been dragged out of there… others are unconscious or in comas. But since we don't know what the gas does to the body yet, we can't say… We'll need to keep an eye on him, including regular hospital visits. I'd suggest that you do nothing strenuous," the paramedic explained, "it was a bad idea to go in there without a mask."
Arthur huffed at the doctor's observation, loud enough to catch Alfred's attention.
"Arthur, I couldn't just leave those people in there!" Alfred responded, tilting his head to look at the Brit as he paced impatiently behind the paramedic. "I had to do something! I tried to go back in and get at least one more person!"
Arthur gasped and stared silently as another victim was led out of the globe theatre on a stretcher, screaming in agony and terror, Arthur shuddered as he looked back at Alfred, who was also watching the display.
"That could have been you," Arthur grumbled.
"I can't tell you much else," the paramedic sighed, "he seems fine now, which may be because of the low exposure, but we don't know just what the gas has done to these people. We don't know whether it passes overtime or stays in the bloodstream."
"Will I need to go to hospital?" Alfred asked.
"I say visit and let us give you a blood test, you're not bedbound," Arthur heard the paramedic explain as he began to walk off, intent on finding Gilbert or Ludwig, someone who could help with the situation. He tried not to look back when he heard Alfred calling for him like a lost puppy. Arthur understood why Alfred did what he did, he wanted to be a hero, but the image of seeing him wandering through the gas without a mask on shook him to his very foundations. It made him angry as he passed the paramedics and watched the panic that I.V.A.N had caused, and the panic that has rocketed throughout the city.
Despite the air clearing around the area, the chaos it left behind kept growing stronger.
Gilbert and Ludwig's investment in the case was large, as the physical toll that the case took on the brothers was immensely obvious, they had grey circles under their eyes, they drank more coffee, and they were quieter and became agitated easily. The night at the office after the attack was tense, no matter how many explanations were offered, no one felt as though they were getting any closer to finding Feliciano and his kidnappers, and now so much more was at stake…
"I told you! Alfred and I didn't see the shooter nor the kidnapper's faces!" Arthur hissed at Gilbert, becoming tired of his repetitive question, "We were riding past the globe when our tire was shot. We were ambushed!"
"The guy must have been near the entrance, waiting for us," Alfred explained.
"How are you still here, why are you not at the hospital?!" Gilbert asked.
"I'm looking at him, don't worry," Kiku answered.
"Besides, there are people who need it more than me!" Alfred replied, holding back the fact that he was feeling like utter shit.
"Fine then, whatever," Gilbert hissed, before looking to Kiku, "have you started looking at the gas?"
"Yes, but without the patients, I cannot determine what it's going to do to them," Kiku explained, "tests are still being run. All we know now is that the gas is not flammable."
"I have reason to believe that the people behind this worked with Ivan, perhaps even whilst he had Matthew," Arthur pointed out, attempting to disperse the situation.
"But wouldn't have Matthew said something if there were more people involved, and if they were working on a gas bomb too?" Alfred asked.
"Perhaps they didn't tell him, I doubt Francis would have wanted him to be involved something like that. Francis told me that he only agreed to help Ivan because he got him his son back," Arthur replied. "So perhaps if we take a deeper look at those who were around Ivan, perhaps we'd get more answers."
"He does have sisters, however, Ivan has been estranged from them for at least two decades..." Gilbert pointed out, "I'll establish contact, I think they live in Ukraine currently-"
"You should all look at this… The news is on, they're going to talk about what happened." Yao pointed out loudly before everyone gathered around the computer to tune into the weekly news.
"A gas explosion shuts down the Globe Theatre and sends London into panic over a possible terror attack or a catastrophic accident," A woman's voice explained. "We bring you more from Elizabeta Beilschmidt who stands near the scene."
"WHAT?!" Gilbert gasped in shock as he saw his wife standing on the bridge before Southwark Bridge, where the Globe Theatre could be seen from the background. "Why is she on the air?!"
"Who is she?" Alfred asked, only for Gilbert to respond by flashing his wedding ring at the American, "Oh."
"She isn't supposed to be on, it's dangerous!" Gilbert explained as he tightened his hands into fists.
"They'll be watching this, and if they see her name …" Yao pointed out.
"Gilbert… As soon as they figure out who she is, they have found another way to hurt us." Ludwig muttered, staring at the German with wide but blank eyes, "go and get her and take her to the safe house, now."
Within seconds, Gilbert had run out of the office, as the others continued to watch the news.
The woman was pretty and young, with bright green eyes and flowing long tanned hair, despite the tragedy, her aura was calm and poised, a true professional.
"Witnesses say that before the explosion two motorcyclists were riding along Southbank; starting from Westminster all the way down to Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, some report that gunshots were fired before the event. Currently none of the identities of the cyclists are known and metropolitan police are appealing for anymore witnesses to contact them," The young woman explained, revealing a sweet Hungarian accent.
"And Elizabeta, what is the damage done so far?"
"So far over fifty people have been hospitalised, as well as nearly twenty more have been placed into comas, including multiple families and tourist groups," Elizabeta explained, "the damage to the building itself is untold, the entire area has been closed off following investigation."
"What exactly was it that caused this?"
"Look, it's really unclear as to whether this was an accident or a plotted attack, police are uncertain whether the motorcyclists are connected to the incident or it was just a coincidence," Elizabeta explained.
"Is Gilbert right in assuming that they'd kidnap his wife?" Alfred asked.
"Better safe than sorry," Ludwig sighed, "I don't want him to go through the same thing … if they went for someone close to me then..." Ludwig didn't even finish his sentence before his head fell into his hands. Alfred didn't bother to ask him to finish.
Ludwig was the strongest man that Alfred had ever met, and the fact that he had become so broken over this case disturbed him…and the American knew that it was only going to get worse...