Dro: Lot's of America in this chapter. Should be getting back to Italy at some point soon.
Chapter Summary: After finding out where England and Germany have gone, America decides to follow them into Soviet territory. Unfortunately, things don't go as planned. Meanwhile, an angry and suspicious Russia brutally interrogates Lithuania.
Warnings: Violence/Moderate Depictions of Torture
Disclaimer: Dro will never own APH.
Alfred took a deep breath and looked himself over. The officer had provided him with a change of clothes—his were mucked up beyond help—and he felt a stiff in a military uniform. It had been a while since he'd dressed like a military officer, and the prim, pressed fabric and shiny black boots brought back memories he preferred to keep buried. At least he looked good. He toweled off his damp hair again, feeling renewed. That shower had done him wonders. He hadn't even realized how damn dirty he was. He looked like he'd been living in the woods for a year.
Tossing the towel on the very basic bed, he headed for the door, hesitating as he reached for the handle. The looks he'd gotten from people on the base made him cringe. Hope. Happiness. Relief. Guilt nearly consumed him. He was deceiving these people for his own gain. Despite the fact he'd been required to do this on missions in the past, it never sat well with him. He hated tricking other people like this. It was cruel. But he had no other choice. He needed their resources and their help. Without them, he wouldn't be able to find Germany and get home.
The officer, a Colonel apparently, had invited him to dinner. He'd promised to tell Alfred all about what Arthur and the others were up to. Apparently, he was in command here at the base. That fact made Alfred suspicious. Wouldn't there be a General in command at one of their major bases? If the Generals weren't at the bases, then where they? Alfred got a sinking feeling he knew, but he tried to ignore it (at least until he got confirmation). Finally, he opened the door and left the room.
His reception was about what he expected. Soldiers stared in awe. Many recognized him, and others were whispering about who he could possibly be to be treated to so well by their commanding officer. He tried his best to ignore him, but he felt like there was a spotlight beaming down right on top of him. When he made it to the room the Colonel had showed him earlier, he found the man waiting for him there with several others. Alfred's eyes immediately went to the food on the table, and he was surprised they could manage such dinners in such a distressing time. He hoped the man wasn't pulling out all the stocks for him.
"Ah, there you are! Please sit down, sir." The Colonel motioned with his hands to the seat beside him.
Alfred pulled out a chair and sank into it, meeting the eyes of several other officers who all seemed equally confused at his presence.
"Gentlemen, surely you recognize our guest?" The Colonel asked.
"Of course. Mr. America, sir." A man with striking red hair and an obvious Scottish accent answered. "It's been way too long, sir. We've all been thinking you were long gone."
"How on Earth did you survive?" A second officer—a Spaniard—added. "We all thought you took a direct hit from a bomb. Weren't you in the capital?"
"Actually, I wasn't." Think on your feet, Alfred. "I had already left the city when the bombs hit. Turns out I was just out of range. Any closer and I probably wouldn't have escaped."
One of them whistled. "Close call, then?" A German man asked. "You're quite lucky. But, I have to wonder. What took you so long to get here? Surely you could've gone to Canada and contacted us, yes?"
"Actually, I couldn't. The entire country was panicking. Refugees from the cities were fleeing north and south. The army was decimated. And then, of course…"
"The Reds moved in." The Scottish man finished.
Well, that wasn't what I was going to say, but thanks! "Exactly. I was barely able to smuggle myself out of the country. But I had to go south. From there, I stowed away on a freighter that passed through the English channel and docked at a port there."
"A Red freighter?" The Spaniard asked.
Alfred nodded.
The German man scoffed. "Of course it was a Red freighter. Bastards taking over all our ports, though I don't guess we could've really defended it seeing as we'd already left."
Alfred sighed. "Wish I'd known that. I snuck off in England and headed to London, only to realize the base had been destroyed."
"Ah, sorry about that." The Scottish officer said. "We'd only lost it a few days ago then."
"Yeah, anyway, I figured you guys would've moved here, so here I am." Alfred finally picked up his fork and started eating. The food was decent, especially for wartime, but the lack of quality made him miss home more.
"That's quite a journey, sir." The Colonel said.
Alfred nodded slowly, chewing his food. The rest of the dinner was filled with much less serious talk. Alfred thanked God for that. He hated coming up with lies on the spot. Personally, he hated lying period. After they finished, the other officers excused themselves, leaving Alfred alone with the Colonel. As soon as the door closed behind them, Alfred felt the mood instantly change. The Colonel eyes met his, something serious and dangerous lingering in them.
"So, what's your plan of action, sir?" He swirled around the remaining tea in his cup.
"Huh?"
"What're you planning to do now?"
"Well, I was hoping you'd tell me where Arthur was."
"Well, yes. But, aren't you going to take command here?"
Alfred's breath caught in his throat. Of course the man would want him to take up a role as a General in this war. That's what the other him had been. That's what they still considered him to be, obviously. But Alfred couldn't possibly do that. He had to get Germany and go home to his Arthur, who was worriedly waiting for him to return. He couldn't stay here and fight a war in a parallel world.
"Actually, I have something else I need to do."
The Colonel raised an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"
"I have an important piece of information that Arthur needs to hear about Russia." The man opened his mouth to speak, but Alfred cut him off. "It's something I've deemed top secret. My apologies. But it's something Arthur has to hear. As soon as possible. "
"Something that could mean life or death?"
"Possibly. Depending on the current situation with the war." Lies. All lies. I am an evil, terrible person.
The Colonel looked pale. "This is a very bad situation then. Marshal Kirkland and a team of the other nations are all on Russian territory as we speak and closing in on Russia's estate."
"What?" Alfred's blood ran cold.
"The tide of the war has long been in Russia's favor. It was decided that we would either have to strike now with everything we had, or we would inevitably slowly collapse under the weight of Russia's army. All the main forces are moving for a direct confrontation with the Russian army on the Eastern Front, and Marshal Kirkland is leading a covert operation to assassinate Russia himself."
"And…who exactly is with Arthur?"
"Um…Spain, France, Prussia, and Germany."
"Germany?"
"Yes. It was remarkable they found him alive. All of us thought he was assassinated by the Italy brothers months ago. But only Marshal Kirkland and your fellow nations really knew what was happening. It was something that was kept under wraps. Probably in order to keep morale up. But, he joined us a couple of weeks ago, perfectly healthy. We were all relieved."
In other words, they decided to let the Germany from my world join in the war and let the soldiers think theirs was still alive. Alfred found himself slightly annoyed at that. He knew Germany wouldn't dare turn down a chance to help his comrades win a war like this, but nevertheless, he was pissed that Arthur, who would know better, had allowed him to do it.
"Can you tell me exactly what route they're taking?"
The Colonel, wide-eyed, shook his head. "Top secret. It's above me. But I do know where they were planning to cross the border."
"Tell me."
The Colonel gaped. "You can't be serious, sir. You can't be thinking of…"
"I'm dead serious. I'm leaving in the morning." Alfred couldn't just stand by and let Germany risk his life. How could he live it down if he came back without Germany? How could he possibly tell Italy that Germany was dead? He couldn't risk that. He had to go after them. His job was bringing back Germany—alive—and he'd be damned if he was going to fail because of a setback like this. Plus, without Arthur, there would be no getting back at all. If Arthur died on this mission, Alfred and Germany could be trapped in this world. Forever.
The backpack bounced as it hit another bump in the road. Alfred kept his eyes open and alert. The wind rushed past his helmet, ruffling his leather coat. He gripped the handlebars tighter and sped up, zipping by ruined buildings on both sides. The Colonel had tried his best to stop Alfred from going, but Alfred had just evaded him and snuck out earlier, jacking a bike from the base's garage along with some appropriate clothing from their surplus room. He'd located exactly where he needed to go and had made sure he knew what obstacles he would face.
He'd read up on the apparent deadliness of the Red watchmen who guarded the border. Alfred grinned. This would be a challenge the likes of which he hadn't faced in years. It was kind of exciting. Scarred landscapes flickered by him in a blur. All of Europe was like this now, Alfred thought. It's probably even worse than World War II. Alfred shuddered at the thought. And it's not just Europe anymore. The whole world is probably like this. My homeland is like this.
Alfred felt a hint of anger rise up for Russia. He and Ivan got along in their world now. The animosity between them had begun to dissolve with the Soviet Union. They had actually had chats as friends. They'd made progress. And now here he was in a world where the Soviet Union had taken over and destroyed everything in its path. A world where Russia still hated him. A world where Russia had destroyed him with nuclear bombs. Every fear Alfred had ever had about the Soviet Union had come true in the world. This place was like some kind of nightmare turned reality.
The ride was long, and Alfred started to feel cramped after a while. When he finally spotted the ruins of the town in the distance, he felt relieved. Of course I shouldn't. Now I have to face the watchmen. He pulled the bike to a stop and got off, the world immediately going quiet. He knew he needed to wait for the changing of the guard, but he already wanted to leave this place. It was…so dead. The images of pure ruin and degradation sent chills down his spine.
It also looked like it was about rain. Yeah, that was just he needed. To sneak into Soviet territory soaked to the bone. He pushed the bike further into town, flipping down the kickstand and leaving it standing next to a half-crumbled wall. He took a look around, searching the ruins for any sign of life other than creeping vines and invading grass. He walked around for over an hour, waiting for the sun to sink toward the horizon. But the clouds started to roll in, dark and ominous, and the sun was cloaked beneath them. Alfred would have to go by his watch now, but he didn't know exactly what time the guard changed.
Taking a deep breath, he tightened the straps of his bag and started heading towards the forest. The day had quickly darkened into pseudo-night, shadows hanging over everything. Alfred felt the hair standing up on the back of his neck, and he shivered, wishing the rain would come to drown out the eerie silence. The only sound at all was the sound of his footsteps and breath. There were no birds chirping, no animals scurrying, no wind rustling leaves. Nothing. The atmosphere was so uneasy that his body was actually telling him to turn around and run for life.
But he managed to keep his cool. He took out a pair of binoculars and surveyed the forest. With the faded light, it was hard to make out shapes hiding within the trees, but Alfred was sure he caught movement. He squatted down and move forward carefully, using any of the remaining ruins as a hiding place. The majority of the buildings were behind him now, and he felt far too exposed. He—something thumped behind him.
He whipped around, only to see…nothing. His hands went for the guns strapped to his chest. Another thump. This time he froze, trying to locate the origin. Hearing nothing more, he turned back around. And came face to face with a watchmen.
He ducked as the rifle fired and sent his fist into the man's gut. The man flew backwards several feet, his gun discharging again as stunned fingers pulled the trigger. The bullet whizzed past Alfred's head. Close. Too close. And too loud. Shouts sounded off from the forest, hurried footsteps charging forward, sounding like an army on the move.
And Alfred stood completely exposed in the open with nowhere to hide.
Ivan paced and forth with a deceptively leisurely gait. Irritated? Yes. On his last nerve? Yes. He stopped in front of the man in the chair, whose head hung limply, blood oozing from the lacerations on his forehead and temple. Ivan stood facing him with his hands behind his back. He cracked his fingers.
"I'm going to ask you again, Toris. Who did you meet with in London?"
The man didn't answer. Growling, Ivan grabbed the man's hair and yanked his head. Toris whimpered, and Ivan pulled at it harder. "Answer me. You answer me right now or I'll blow Feliks' brains out right in front of you."
Toris gaped. "I…" He coughed, blood dripping down his chin. "I…didn't meet…with anyone." His breathing was labored. "My jet was taken down by the enemy."
"Oh, really?" Ivan sank down to his level. "And would you mind telling me what kind of enemy throws vehicles at fighter jets?"
"I…don't…know…I didn't…I didn't find him."
Ivan smiled. He grabbed Toris' good wrist and snapped it in half. Toris screamed, his voice echoing off the walls. "If you didn't find him Toris, then why did it take so long for your comrades to locate you? They were very explicit in their details, Toris. You disappeared for a few hours. Why couldn't they find you?" Toris whimpered again. "Fine, let me ask you this. What did the man look like?"
"I don't…"
"Yes, you do know. Your comrades were able to describe him. You were even closer than they were. What short-haired, blond man has enough strength throw vehicles?" He screamed in Toris' face. "Answer me, Toris!"
After first, he thought Toris was sobbing. But he realized moments later that the man was laughing. Dry. Hysterical. Vengeful. Smug. "What kind of interrogation is this, Ivan, when you already know the answer?"
Ivan reeled backward in rage, whipping his gun from its holster and pointing it straight at Toris' head. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you."
Toris looked from the gun to Ivan and back again, something akin to relief flashing through his eyes. "There's never…been a good reason for that, Ivan. So I don't see…why you're asking that question now."
Ivan's fury exploded, and he bared his teeth. He turned around to try and contain it, facing the door, his free hand on the knob. But it got the best of him. Grinding his teeth together, he whipped around and pointed the gun at Toris' forehead.
He pulled the trigger.
Dro: Uh oh, Alfred, you're in a bind now. And did I just kill off Lithuania? It wouldn't surprise me if I did. I have a long-standing tradition of killing multiple characters in every story I write.
Next Chapter: Alfred fights his way through the watchmen, only to be saved by a mysterious someone. Meanwhile, an upset Italy spars with Romano, rekindling old emotions he'd long buried away.