It was about 2am when the base doors were being almost beaten open. A woman cautiously peeked her head around the door, before being knocked back by the door. Poor thing.
Big men in uniforms stormed through the door, their boots covered in mud and water from passing storms. They weren't the Italian army. Definitely not.
It was the Americans.
Lovino, in the corner of the room, stared over at them picking up all the stronger looking men. One man came over to Lovino grabbing him by the arm. He began pulling him towards the crowd of bodies in front of him. No, no, no, no, no.
Once the soldiers had finished grabbing people, they began pushing them all outside. They had nothing but the clothes on their back. They were marched down the streets Lovino hadn't almost seen in a year. Everything was ashes, all the buildings, pavements, and people. Everything was gone. Destroyed.
It was unbelievable to look at. For the first time Lovino felt something other than boredom.
Sick.
Sick to his stomach.
He almost stopped walking but was pushed forward by a man in uniform. They passed streets and bridges until they reached a van. It kind of looked like the ones they used to transport Jews to Concentration Camps. That's what he saw from his old school textbooks, anyway.
They began loading them in one by one, everyone shaking with fear.
Well, not Lovino.
It wasn't until it was almost Lovino's turn to get in the death van, that he heard yells. Rioters? More Americans? Another set of soldiers? Terrorists? It really could be anything at this point.
Lovino didn't have time to think as people came running around the corner, brandishing guns. They were wearing bandanas around their mouths and had hoods up.
Probably terrorists.
Now see, Lovino wasn't worried until he heard his name. This was when he froze.
Did they know him? How did they know him? What was going on?
They came closer and closer. And Lovino panicked more and more.
They began attacking the American soldiers on Lovino's arms. One pulled him away and shot down another American soldier.
He heard the van drivers yelling that they had to go. "Couldn't afford to die over one man" or something like that.
The van managed to get away from the rebel group, causing the bandana-clad attackers to yell and cheer and laugh. Lovino was still confused and quite frankly angry. Who the hell were these guys? He certainly let them hear him.
"Who the hell are you and why did you take me from those Americans?" He yelled at them, causing them all to turn to face him. Red Bandana chuckled. He got closer up to the man and ruffled his untidy hair in a… brotherly manner. It couldn't be Veneziano; he was never one to really touch Romano like an older brother. Who… Who was this?
"I asked you a question! Who the hell are y-?"
"I'm surprised you don't recognise us. It has been a while, my dear." The one with the violet bandana spoke up, sliding his backpack back onto his shoulders.
One by one, they began to remove their masks.
First to do it was a tall blonde. His hair was different, it was matted down against his head and his scarf was almost completely ripped.
Second was a female. Her hair wasn't as bouncy as it usually was as it was tied back. She didn't seem to smile much at Lovino, as she used to.
Next was another blonde. He looked the most tired out of all of them. His hair had grown, not too long, but it clearly had to be tied back most of the time. God, he didn't look the same as what he used to.
Last was one who Lovino recognised too well. He didn't think it was possible, but the man's skin was paler than usual. His usual white hair was grey and ashy, not too far away from black, due to fire damage. He had scars on his face, some new and red, some old and fading into his skin.
Tim, Laura, Francis and Gilbert.
Lovino was shocked to say the least. This was the first time he'd seen anyone he had formally known in almost a year and he was just surprised they even knew where he was. And why did they bother finding him?
"It took us a while to find ya Lovi-!"
"It might be the end of the world but I'm still never letting you call me that."
Lovino had this thing about the nickname. Only Antonio had really called him it and even though he had hated it anyway, well, he missed Toni more than he could really tell anyone. So he didn't let anyone call him Lovi.
"Yeah, anyway. We need you. We had to leave Spain after an incident with the British. We… Called Antonio-"
"Antonio? Where is he? Is he alright?"
Francis chuckled.
"We don't know where he is."
Gilbert nodded in agreement.
"We called him to find out where you were. We're trying to find everyone and flee to Japan, as that's where Kiku has his refuge base. He's trying to track down Alfred but he wants us all to get the last living members of the group left. As many as we can. And we had to find you, as you're strong. We need you Lovino."
The long story was done and Lovino was quiet.
"You said last living… Who… Who's dead?"
Everyone was quiet, and Francis went very pale.
"It's not a high death count… But some of our closest friends were killed. The current known deaths are… Raivis Galante… Roderich Edelstein… and-"
"Arthur Kirkland." Francis spoke up, his voice cracking softly.
Even Lovino knew about Arthur and Francis' relationship. It was on and off, all the time. But he knew they loved each other a lot, and Francis was clearly taking it bad.
"How long has he…?"
"Around 3 months now. The Austrian army hiding in France attacked him and me and that's how he and Roderich died too."
"What about Raivis?" Lovino was curious of what the boy had done.
"Peter and Tino were being attacked by the Russians on a Finnish boat. Raivis was captured by the Russians before it even happened but Ivan was about to shoot Peter and… You can think of the rest. Ivan's been brainwashed and we can't run into him anytime soon. Yao is currently trying to find a way to help him but for now, we CANNOT run into the Russian army." Gilbert explained to him.
Lovino thought. Helping these guys… it could lead him to Antonio. And his brothers. He had to take it up. He took a hoodie and a bandana off of Tim and a gun off Gilbert.
He was going to find his family.