The mental tirade rushing through Prussia's head when the alarms went off sounded like a multilingual recitation of every antonym for 'awesome' in existence. This was probably better than a swearing or cursing fit, but all the same, it wasn't a productive use of his mental capabilities. He would have slapped his own face to get a grip, but oh wait, restrained. He tried to flex against the restraints, but hell, just lifting his arms to do so felt like dragging them through tar. Not that he specifically knew how that felt, but he was sure he got the comparison right. Even with America getting most of their captors' recent attention, Prussia was still weak.
No no, Prussia was never weak. Prussia was currently in between states of awesome. A gap. Yeah.
He groaned and let out snort, red eyes blinking against the very annoying red light that flashed and flooded the room in tandem with the noise. As if he didn't have the world's worst headache without the obnoxious blaring sound! Dragging air in through his nose slowly, he peered about the room, first looking at Veneziano just in case something had happened to him. The Nation was actually stirring a bit, a fantastic sign but probably not all too useful at the moment. He didn't need the Italian panicking when Prussia could barely think straight as it was.
"Shh... it's ok Veneziano... just uh, play dead, relax. The awesome Prussia is making his move!" While the boast seemed to settle North Italy a bit... it left Prussia wondering just what move he'd implied himself to be making there. An awesome move, yes, went without saying... but just what sort of awesome move was it exactly? Any minute his brain would let him know for sure... right? Any minute now brain... no doubt it was pausing for dramatic effect.
While waiting for the idea to spring out and declare itself to the world, the door to the lab they'd been kept prisoners in for so very long slid open with an angry hiss, armed men and scientists rushing inside. Prussia swiftly shut his eyes, just enough to look asleep while affording himself a meager sliver to watch them through. The humans were in an obvious hurry, a couple of the armed men watching over the Nations but mostly they were watching outside the room. Good to know. The scientists were scurrying about, collecting things and beginning to pull out and unplug some of the many tubes and wires attached to the captive Nations. Also good to know.
Prussia listened as the scientist in charge of this little group, not the head scientist unfortunately, barked orders about being quick, about needing to move Veneziano and him quickly, before the intruders could reach this location. 'Intruders? I like the sound of that... but the awesome me is no damsel!' Rescuers might be on their way, but Prussia wasn't just going to sit back and be rescued. He wanted to kick a little ass here, get in some much deserved payback.
Silently praising North Italy for remaining completely still through this (though, quite possibly, the Italian might have passed out from exhaustion again), Prussia played dead just until his restraints were undone. The minute he felt the last one slip free he dug deep, pulled together every ounce of strength and will he had in his body. His eyes snapped open, and Prussia lunged up as well as he could. Perhaps to the untrained eye it looked more like a drunken lurch forward, but what did 'they' know?
The scientist closest let out a yelp of surprise, but that was all he managed to get out before Prussia tackled him (no, he didn't fall on top of him, shut up), knocking his stupid science-y head into the ground and sending him into a forced nap. Other scientists cried out to the guards, and Prussia shot to his feet and quickly dodged left to avoid the first shot sent his way (No! He didn't stagger left and conveniently fall before getting shot, again... shut up!). The guard was just about to fire again when one of the scientists started yelling at him.
"Be careful! These two are supposed to be moved alive!" Man, today was just full of good-to-know things for Prussia. Taking in a couple gulps of air and tugging the remaining tubes and wires off his body (on principle, not because he was afraid of tripping...), Prussia let out a mighty yell. It startled the arguing guard and scientist, and gave the ex-Nation just enough time to pick up a metal tray and slam it into the guard's head. The human went down, and the scientist wasted no time in rushing towards the door.
"Coward," Prussia snarled, though he still had another guard inside to contend with. Thankfully the guards at the door hadn't abandoned their posts to come inside and deal with this disturbance, apparently more worried about the aforementioned intruders.
The guard backed away, raising his gun and taking careful aim. "Stay where you are," he barked out. Prussia didn't bother to decipher the language, just knew he understood it. The ex-Nation sneered.
"Or what? You're not allowed to kill the awesome me... not that you could!" The human didn't seem to understand Prussia's words, but the snarl in his voice was probably universal. The man let out a warning shot, but to Prussia it was simply the signal to move. He tackled the man, and he almost let out a curse when the human seemed like he was about to turn the tables. Stupid human and his not-exhausted-from-over-a-year-of-torment-ness! Any energy Prussia had, any adrenaline he'd been running off of was waning. Diminished muscles screamed at the heavy strain, his body felt paper thin and impossibly heavy at the same time, and damn if he didn't feel like he was moving in slow motion!
He wrestled on the ground with the guard, grappling and punching after managing to knock the gun away. How was this even fair, a naked ex-Nation versus a human in body armor? But Prussia snorted and mentally reminded himself that no matter what handicaps thrown his way, he was still way more than a match for this random guy with no name. He got in a particularly heavy punch, dazing the man, and looked up, wanting to shout at Italy and sing his own praises (and yeah, make sure they hadn't stolen the Nation away while Prussia was busy).
Well, North Italy was still on that table when he looked up, but the guards who'd been more focused on the outside had turned, were starting to charge in. The scientists had all fled the room, stupid pansies, and Prussia knocked out his current target before taking a deep breath. He could do this... he could take out more armed men... he just needed to get up. Come on body... up... up! His limbs shuddered and shivered, but his legs just couldn't seem to find their way up, his arms worthless. A guard approached, and though he didn't aim his assault rifle at the ex-Nation, it was obvious that Prussia was about to get clubbed.
He braced for the impact as well as he could, and totally did not flinch when the sound of a gun going off rang out over the noise. He watched in mildly relieved confusion as the guard fell forward, thankfully not onto Prussia. He blinked, registering that the human was actually bleeding and wounded, before looking up. More shots were ringing out, and once again the guards were focused on what was outside of the door. Crawling, because fine! It was all he could do! Prussia dragged himself over towards North Italy's table, trying to see past the men in the doorway. Sure... this was probably rescue, but as he managed to haul his body up enough to half cover Italy, he reminded himself to remain vigilant.
When the last guard went down and West rushed in... god... Prussia could have wept manly tears of joy. His brother's eyes swept the room once with vicious efficiency before landing and locking with Prussia's. Germany's face actually seemed to twitch from the emotions his personality and military training didn't want to let out, and Prussia could only send a fatigued smirk to his little brother. West was so cute.
Before the two Germans could truly have any sort of 'moment' though, South Italy pushed his way into the room, knocking into Germany roughly, his eyes blazing with fire and rage. He looked around the room as if he was hoping for someone else to shoot, but nearly went into some sort of fit when he saw Veneziano. He didn't let go of his gun, but Romano ran to his brother's side so fast Prussia was nearly thrown to the floor. Luckily, Germany was well used to dealing with Italians, and was right there to catch the ex-Nation. Not that Prussia needed catching.
"Fratello! Veneziano... Veneziano!" With the way Romano was clinging and clutching and shaking his brother, Prussia was almost worried that he'd end up hurting the poor thing. A flurry of Italian was flying out of South Italy's mouth at an impressive rate, his worry and fear and everything else speeding up his tongue. When North Italy's eyes finally opened though, when a tiny little 've' escaped those lips, Romano really seemed to lose it. He nearly collapsed onto North Italy, sobbing his eyes out and causing a very confused yet relieved Veneziano to break out into tears as well.
"Bruder, are you alright?" Prussia dragged his attention away from the Italians, looking up at Germany who was supporting his weight right now. It looked very much like his little brother wanted to sit him down, have a good look at his condition. The ex-Nation grinned, knowing now was not really the time for that.
"Kesesese..." He breathed out hoarsely, trying to find his feet a bit more so he didn't have to lean on West so much (he'd be damned if he was carried out of here!). "Of course. Ya didn't think something like this could stop me didja?"
The smallest of relieved smiles twitched Germany's lips, and a deep line that seemed etched between his eyes seemed to ease ever so slightly. 'Good,' Prussia thought. He didn't like seeing his little brother so strained and unhappy... even if the circumstances maybe justified it. West gave his shoulders a little squeeze, as if needing to hug Prussia but afraid to, and Prussia did his best to give a hug back. Not that they were having some overly emotional moment like a certain couple of other Nations in the room he could mention.
Prussia started to look back towards the Italies, certain his little brother would want his turn at celebrating finding Veneziano, when movement outside the room caught his eye. There was another guard, gun raised and about to fire. The ex-Nation opened his mouth to shout a warning, but was silenced as South Italy raised his gun, firing a kill shot without looking? Prussia gaped for a moment (who the heck was this replacing the cowardly South Italy he knew!), watching the southern Italian turn his head slowly, staring at the downed guard as if daring him to resurrect and try again. Prussia was, well... impressed. West was awesome... but now he could see a bit more clearly how these two had managed to get in here so far.
This seemed to be the signal for Germany to get them moving. He cast one more look at North Italy, who shot a weak smile in return, before looking at Prussia. "Bruder," he asked, shifting and checking his own ammo while supporting the ex-Nation. "Are you able to walk?" Prussia nodded his head, a second burst of energy filling him (and hopefully enough to last them out of here). Germany nodded then looked back at North Italy. The Nation was awake, but it was abundantly clear the Italian couldn't even sit up on his own. Walking? Impossible.
South Italy took a step back, eyes sweeping the room and landing on one of the wheeled tables that had been brought in by the humans for transport. "I'll fucking push Veneziano on that, but that means you have to do all the shooting Potato-bastard!"
Germany's face drew grim and determined, though there was a glimmer in his eyes that seemed pleased. "That will not be a problem," he uttered, and god Prussia was so very proud of his little brother right now.
They transferred North Italy to the rolling table, wishing there were clothes for either of the naked captives but not caring enough to waste time searching or stripping fallen guards. Germany looked at Prussia, and though he knew better than to suggest Prussia also ride the table, he did have to say something it seemed. "If you want to help push Veneziano or steer the table, that would be helpful."
Prussia nodded, smirking. He could easily translate what West meant, knew he was telling Prussia it was ok to use the table as support if he was too tired. The ex-Nation appreciated it... though he was determined to get out of here on his own feet without support. "So... where to?"
Germany reached up, cupping his ear and speaking into his earpiece. He scowled, shaking his head. South Italy, who was also listening with his own earpiece, swore. Prussia looked back and forth between the two, but didn't get a chance to demand answers. "Move,' Germany barked out, full military mode, and when West shouted like that even Prussia listened. They raced out of the room, and god Prussia had never been happier to leave a room in his life.
x 0 x 0 x 0 x
They'd turned on him, of course they had, but England had taken down three of them before they'd had the sense to stop advancing on America and face the bigger threat. Dodging towards the wall, sliding his body against it, England never ceased to fire, smoothly changing the clip in his gun as if it was as natural to him as breathing. You didn't live as long as he had and not become skilled with such things, even if he wasn't prone to toting around sidearms anymore. Shots ricocheted off the wall around him or embedded themselves deeply but the Nation wasn't deterred, wasn't frightened. With grim calm he shot down another man, counting down just four to go. Three who were firing upon him yet and one...
One of the men had moved towards America, was pushing and shoving or pulling at him. Frankly, England couldn't spare too much time to get a good look. Shot up and crumpled on the ground or not, America was apparently doing what he did best... that being acting like a stubborn nuisance that was going to get his way one way or the other (and England of course thought that as fondly as possible). His anger spiked to see this harassment of America, unbelievable that England could feel any more rage than he had been before, and with eerie precision he took aim at the last three men focused upon him. One... two.. three.
The hallway went as quiet as it could with that alarm still echoing off the walls, though at this point England's ears were dead to the sound. For all intents and purposes... the hall had gone silent. The Nation stepped away from the wall, his green eyes locked on the man so caught up in molesting America that he didn't notice the danger he was in. With very precisely measured steps, England advanced slowly, his posture absurdly tall and proper given the situation. He could see America struggling on the ground, obviously clutching or protecting whatever he was curled over. England couldn't make his steps go any faster. The man actually kicked America in the side, and still, England couldn't seem to hurry up. A dangerous calm had washed over him... one that was truly false and so thinly masking the fury resting beneath.
England wasn't close enough to reach out and touch the human when the man finally noticed him, but in this sudden game of quick draw it was England who emerged the victor. The man jerked back, his gun clattering to the ground as he fell. The Nation sneered down at him for a moment before his attention fixed to America. Good lord, naked and riddled with bullet wounds... even for a Nation this was excessive damage. He swallowed the lump in his throat, sinking to his knees to check on his former colony.
The hands that shot up and hit him in the chest, sending his body back into the wall shocked him completely. For a moment all he could do was wince, trying to regain his wits as he sat on the floor, sagged against the wall of the hallway and rubbing at the strike point. What? What had just happened. America hadn't hit him, hadn't shoved him. A hit from that git would have sent him flying quite a bit further down the hall he was certain. But this hadn't been a case of a disoriented America lashing out. No... from out of America's protective hold had crawled something.
Green eyes blinked as they at last made contact with red, and England drew in a confused breath as he stared at this little child. Red eyes... auburn hair on an angelic and rather cherubic face. A face turned into a protective frown. The simple clothes the child wore were stained from white to a browning red by America's blood, jolting England back into action. Whatever problem this child had with him would have to wait. America seriously needed help.
Pushing back to his feet, England had not taken two steps forward when the little child yelled at him, all balled fists and trembling repressed fear. "Stay away!" England arched his brows sharply, not so much shocked to hear American accented English coming off the child's lips as he was surprised to hear it. This child was speaking to him as a Nation. England almost shook his head. That was impossible... he would have known if there was a Nation lurking about Antarctica, surely he would have. But now that he looked at this child as a Nation, tried to sense him as such, England couldn't shake what his core was telling him as true.
This child was a Nation.
The words of Redglass replayed in his mind, and a very dark realization sank to his stomach. Though the fingers wrapped about his gun twitched, it wasn't because England had any desire to shoot this child. Oh quite the contrary... even if quite possibly... that was what he should do. 'Best not to jump to conclusions... I... could... perhaps be wrong...' A voice in the back of his mind told him he wasn't though.
He took another step forward, but the little child just seemed to bristle at him. "No!" The little one yelled, this time flinging his arms wide, as if to block England's path to America's disturbingly limp and still form. England wasn't made of patience, especially not when it came to misbehaved children like this, and especially not when misbehaved children were jeopardizing the safety of someone he cared for. So, he ignored the protest.
"Look, step aside. I'm here to help him." He made to shove the child aside, but the persistent little thing grabbed at his arm and started to tug. England had every intention of shaking the brat off, but was startled to find he couldn't... even more so to find that the kid was actually dragging him. That dark heavy feeling that'd entered his gut seemed to grow much worse.
"I-Iggy...?" A faint rasping voice momentarily dispelled it, and both red and green eyes raced to stare at America. The Nation had moved at last, staring up at them through blood-spattered Texas from a loose jumble of limbs on the ground. It was pathetic to see America looking so weak, lying in a pool of his own blood, but having the Nation looking at him and speaking and god, having him right there eased something in England. He tried to step forward and huffed when he realized this little brat with red eyes was still holding onto him.
A weak chuckle escaped America's lips, and blue eyes focused on the child. "It's ok Oli... that's Iggy... he's cool." The little fingers holding to him let go slowly, and suddenly the child was sprinting back to America. With its face buried in America's chest, England couldn't actually see any tears, but the sobbing sounds that barely made it over the alarm, and America's soothing noises, made it clear the kid was crying. England ran a hand over his face, trying to compose himself, before coming to kneel by America. His hands ghosted over the other Nation's body as he cataloged the wounds. He clicked his tongue.
"You know, you could have at least tried not to let every bullet hit you," he chided softly, and America stopped his soothing to snort.
"Geez Iggy, kick a guy while he's down why don'cha?" The words held no actual hurt, no bite, and when England flicked his gaze from wounded body to America's face, he was pleased to see a slight smile there. He smirked back.
"I'm just saying, lad. And I believe I've asked you not to call me that." America rolled his eyes before looking back at the child. The smile fell from his face a bit, and England could all but see him thinking.
"Hey England, this is Oliver... Oliver," he nudged the child, prompting it to look at England. "This is my big bro, England." The green eyed Nation wasn't about to get hung up over the fact that America had just referred to him as a brother in the present tense. No, instead he started to pull out some med supplies from the very small (and for this task inadequate) first aid kit, getting to work and cutting America off before he could say anything stupid like 'he'll be taking care of you now'.
"Yes yes, a pleasure," he said off hand, working to do what he could to stop bleeding. "You can properly introduce me to the child after I get you home."
America opened his mouth but words never came, the Nation nodding and relaxing back, trying to rest while England patched him up. Oliver watched England like an over protective little toy dog, apparently not entirely convinced England was to be trusted. 'Or perhaps he simply doesn't like me... America has a habit of befriending strange things that don't.' It wouldn't bother him at all, not having this child's affection.
An annoying and quite unwelcome torrent of French invaded his ear thanks to the communicator he'd all but forgotten he was wearing, angry and panicked and distorted as Italian and German cut over the line as well briefly. "England!" The frog snapped, furious and, well, stressed. "We need that escape route now! What are you doing?" Muffled gun fire and the screams of panicked humans filtered over the comm as well, and England cursed. Was he expected to do everything?
He looked sharply at America, who stared at him in a wound-dazed sort of confusion. "It'd be too much to hope that you know a safe route to whatever transports are used here, yes?"
America blinked, brows furrowing, but nodded. Bloody hell. France was absolutely not shutting up over the line, and England didn't have the time to patch up America and do recon. He grit his teeth, agonizing over what to do, when a voice by his side nearly made him jump.
"Need help?" Green eyes stared in thankful disbelief at the tiny creatures next to him. One appeared to be a little man with a long white beard and giant feet, sitting atop an arctic tern. The other seemed a cross between a seal and a penguin, quite plump and good natured and staring at America with pity. It was the tiny man who'd addressed England though, and it was to him that the Nation responded.
"Yes," he exclaimed emphatically, startling the two other Nations with him. America eyed him strangely, eyes flickering to the 'empty spot' he no doubt assumed England to be looking at. England wasn't of the mind right now to have America tease him about speaking to imaginary friends (not that it was likely America was going to do any teasing at the moment), so England made a show of cupping his hand over his communicator, as if he were speaking to France or Germany or South Italy. America didn't look fooled, but he didn't call him on it.
"I need to find a route to transports that can be used to take a large number of humans, and ourselves, out of here." The tiny man nodded his head, stroking his ice white beard.
"Ah, I understand." The little man patted the side of the tern's neck, and the bird took to flight, hovering in a manner that would have been impossible for a mundane member of the species. "We'll have to hurry up though, most of those 'transports' are being used by the people who work here escaping."
To the side he heard Oliver ask America who he was talking to, mildly pleased to hear America make a plausible excuse for him. Still, he didn't have time to listen to America, not with France shouting his ear off, Germany and Romano adding to the chaos and couldn't someone turn off that stupid alarm already? Too much all at once. Pulling out his copy of this base's blueprint, England offered it to the little man. It took him a moment, but at last he was able to understand the 'map' and point out their target destination. That solved one problem...
"I have companions... they need a safe route out..." He looked beseechingly at the helpful creatures.
"Well... we could guide them..." The penguin-seal started.
"But they can't see us, can they?" The bearded man finished. England shook his head. The tiny man shrugged before pulling a whistle out of his beard, blowing it. With a sudden frosty breeze and a ice breaking pop, another little person on a tern appeared, this time a tiny bearded woman with equally large feet. "If you give us something they can see, we can dangle it in front of them if you like."
"Brilliant," England murmured, digging into his kit and pulling out some unused gauze, giving a strip to the little man and little woman. He mouthed a 'thank you' to the two as they sped off, and swiftly he spoke over the comm line. "France... Germany and Romano, listen carefully. I have found a route to our escape location, but I'm unable to guide you personally. However, I have sent help. You will see floating gauze, follow it."
There were angry and disbelieving mutters of protest from Romano, and a snide comment from France, but at least the frog was familiar with England and his (according to others), quirks. Still, the line went quiet, so England hoped that meant all was well. Which meant it was time to get moving. He looked at America, who was apparently choosing to read the atmosphere at the moment. The American began struggling to his feet, and both England and Oliver helped him.
"As quickly as you're able, alright lad?" England's voice was actually soft, encouraging, and America gave him as much of a grateful hug as he could before nodding.
"Thanks Iggy," he whispered, teary eyed, and England feigned annoyance to hide the way his own eyes wanted to mist over.
"Let's move then, alright Oliver?" He didn't really want the little one to come, but it was obvious how attached America was. Plus... well, America really would need all the help he could get moving through these halls. England couldn't support America and potentially defend them from roaming gunmen. The child nodded his head, happy to help America at the very least. The penguin-seal let out a little bark and began to slip and slide ahead of them, making serpentine curves to keep from outpacing the slow progress of the Nations.
It was very slow, America leaning nearly all of his weight on England, limbs dragging no matter how determined the younger Nation looked. "A diet," England muttered when America's spirits seemed to be dipping. "I'm... putting you... on one..."
America whined but seemed to straighten up a bit. "So mean," he complained, but he seemed to redouble his efforts.
They only encountered one more gunfire hotspot as they made their way to their goal, and they made it through blessedly unscathed. England was relieved to see that the other groups had managed to make it there first, transports secured and some very unhappy scientists rounded up and captured. England didn't let himself celebrate until everyone was on board, until he'd said goodbye and thank you to the creatures that'd helped them all.
As they started to sail away, as he looked at the previously missing Nations, England finally started to breathe easily again. He watched America sleep, Oliver cuddled at his side. He looked at Prussia 'resting his eyes' next to Veneziano, looked at North Italy slumbering with a tiny smile on his face and his hand in his brother's, and felt months of stress melting away. Quite honestly, he felt exhausted, felt he could fall asleep right now, coming down off all the worry and adrenaline. Instead he moved to where Germany was, to where the Nation was helping France guide and navigate the transport.
"Why don't you go back, keep an eye on them all?" Germany looked torn, obviously wanting to go be with his brother, but also desperate to make sure their escape was perfect. England gave him a little shove towards the resting rescued Nations, making the choice for him. "Go, the frog and I will handle this."
"Thank you," Germany uttered, his gratitude naked in his tone. The solid Nation headed back, and England moved to stand next to France, not even flinching when an arm was draped across his shoulders, not resisting when he was tugged to lean on the Frenchman. He'd hate France again later, he was bloody exhausted right now and France's wandering pervert hands were behaving.
"We did it," England breathed at last, a smile on his lips and his eyelids feeling heavy.
"We did," France agreed, and nothing else really need be said. Not for now.
A/N:
Finally! The captives are free! Loose ends remain, oh yes, so the story continues. But yay freedom? And yes, for those wondering, there shall be some brotherly fluff coming up.
The mystical creatures that help out are mildly/loosely based off of various ice/winter creatures from various cultures.
Reviews are welcome and loved. I... I don't know what's going on with all the changes to this site and such, but if I miss replying many apologies!