Dro: I'm not going to lie. I wrote this chapter, and I still think it's gruesome. So, warning even in my author note: gruesome chapter is gruesome! Be warned! But still, please review!

Chapter Summary: The gang arrives in London, only to find themselves one step behind Russia and China. Arthur ends up in Ivan's hands in an attempt to save Matthew, and he pays the price for it.

Warnings: Violence (like, really bad in this chapter; though the actual act I'm referring to is off screen, the implications and result are quite disturbing); Language; Nudity

Disclaimer: I really don't think you'd want me owning APH, especially after what I do to England in this chapter.

Note: In case anyone is still confused:

Artie : Parallel England

Al : Parallel America

Matt : Parallel Canada

Alfred : Canon world America

Arthur: Canon world England

Mattie/Matthew : Canon world Canada

For example, this chapter starts with Arthur, which means it's Canon World Arthur. The second half of this chapter is from Al's POV. Al, of course, being Parallel America.

(If I don't use those names explicitly, look for other cues, such as "the other so-and-so", "this so-and-so", etc.)

Arthur tapped his fingers impatiently on the seat and scanned the area again. Feliciano—ever composed and stoic—sat with his legs and arms crossed, staring silently out the plane window. Ludwig sat next to him, eyes trained absently on the ceiling. Alfred had his eyes closed, headphones in his ears, but Arthur knew that the man wasn't asleep. He was just attempting to drown out reality. Matthew sat next to the window, seemingly focusing on nothing. Arthur imagined he was lost somewhere inside his own head. It was how he'd been since they'd helped him escape. He rarely spoke, rarely moved unless prompted to…Arthur hoped to God he'd recover from this, but he wouldn't hold out too much hope, not when this situation could easily get worse at any time.

The other him—Artie now, funnily enough—sat next to the other Alfred—it felt weird to just call him Al. They were holding hands, their fingers interlaced. Arthur eyed his own Alfred, whose arms were crossed, and felt a slight pang in his chest. He ignored it. It was senseless to be jealous of the other them. That was just foolish. He and Alfred shared the same love, the same relationship. Alfred was just stressed out and needed some time to relax. It wasn't that he loved Arthur any less than Al loved Artie. He shook his head. Maybe he should have drowned out the world with music too. Although he would have much preferred to drown it out with alcohol.

Thirty minutes later, they landed on the same runway that he had with Al only days before. Matt filed out first, followed by the other them, Feliciano and Ludwig, and finally, himself, Alfred, and Matthew. Matthew said nothing and shrugged off any attempt at aid, and he and Alfred exchanged glances. This was going to be a long, slow healing process, they both knew. If Matthew healed at all. In another twenty minutes, they found themselves in front of the conference center, and they all entered quickly. Artie told them that there was a meeting scheduled to start in five minutes, and hopefully it was still on despite the missing nations.

It was. The shock in the room was nearly tangible, all the nations staring, stunned, at the three sets of doubles and, of course, the long-missing Italy. Arthur and Alfred locked the conference room doors—just in case—and sat back, letting their doubles do the talking. The other him spoke quickly, explaining that Yao had resurrected Ivan. Arthur noted that he conveniently left out any description of the role he had played in the resurrection, as well as any information about Matthew's rape (a point which he agreed with). Many of the nations were skeptical, but several seemed to realize the gravity of the situation and started discussing strategies to fight back at Ivan.

Vash called the room to order as the noise level got out of hand. "All right, listen up. We've got a serious problem on our hands, so let's keep calm and think this out. We don't want a repeat of four years ago. We need to crush this new threat quickly and efficiently."

"And how should we go about that?" Kiku fidgeted in his seat, obviously anxious. Arthur remembered what Alfred had told him about Japan being bombarded by China to the point of near total destruction.

"Well, first off," Denmark answered, "we need to find the guy. Or at least where he's going. He can still be killed, right? So, if we manage to cut him off before he has a chance to actually regain any followers or build up a weapons store, we should be able to beat him pretty easily."

Vash nodded in agreement. "I agree. This is an incredibly time sensitive operation. We need to construct a plan, right here, right now, and execute it as soon as possible." He glanced at Netherlands, who was staring intently out the window, and started to speak to him but paused when the man raised a finger, signaling for him to wait.

"What's wrong?" Artie asked him.

He turned toward them, looking petrified. "I don't think finding him will be a problem. He just walked right through the door."

The room exploded into panic. It took them several seconds to calm everyone back down. Lithuania looked like he was having a heart attack. Poland didn't look much better. All the Nordics had pulled out guns, and Netherlands unbuttoned his suit jacket, revealing he had least four handguns on him. Arthur was packing two of his own, as was everyone else from their group. Except Feliciano, who probably had an entire arsenal attached to his body.

They waited, all guns trained at the door. They were expecting Ivan to just waltz right into the room, which seemed to be his style, especially when he had some sort of underlying plot. Arthur licked his lips, trying to keep his breathing steady. This could either end very well or very, very badly. He could only hope the former was the case. But he had the sinking feeling that resurrection hadn't made this Russia any dumber. And if he was as smart as Arthur had been told he was, then they were in some serious trouble.

A grim silence filled the room, every occupant armed and ready. Arthur glanced at Matthew, who he expected to looked terrified, and he was surprised to find a look of sheer ferocity contorting the usually kind and calm boy's face. Matthew's eyes gleamed with fury, and Arthur could honestly say that he was afraid of this show of emotion, of what it could possibly do.

Something clinked around in the lock of the door until it unlocked. The doorknob turned. Everyone tensed. The door, brand new from its recent construction, didn't make a sound as it turned, revealing a smug looking Yao standing on the other side. He marched into the room like he ruled the world, eying all the nations carefully, scrutinizing them. For a moment, he paused, eying the two Alfreds with suspicion and surprise. But he recovered almost instantly and tried to hide his shock, the sly smile returning to his lips.

"Good afternoon, everyone."

Artie growled. "The hell do you want, Yao?" His finger tightened on the trigger of his gun.

Yao raised an eyebrow. "I just wanted to give you a message. As I'm sure you've all heard by now, Ivan has returned, and he intends to build a new coalition of states. If anyone would like to join up of their own free will, they may do so now. And only now. He's giving you twenty four hours. Make your decisions." He turned around. "And I advise you to make the right one. Ivan is not very tolerant right now, and he is perfectly willing to end you all here if you do not comply with his wishes. So tread carefully, my friends, or you may find yourself in a very dire situation." He made to leave.

A shot rang out, the bullet tearing through the wood of the door right next to Yao's head. Artie had fired it. He strode toward Yao, grabbed him, and forced the man around, shoving the gun underneath his chin. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you right here."

Yao smiled slyly. "Because if you do, my snipers will kill your precious Alfred."

Glass exploded, and Al went down, clutching his leg as it burst into a spray of blood. Artie release his grip on Yao, who pushed him away, sending him sprawling against the conference table. Three of Yao's guards burst into the room, and one of them went for Matthew. Arthur pushed his boy out of the way, and the guard grabbing him instead. Yao glared him, making a split second decision.

"Take him instead. Let's go." He retreated, and the guards followed him, dragging Arthur away. He screamed for help, but Alfred's advances were cut off by several more sniper shots. Before he could register what was happening, he was bound and gagged and being carried into a elevator. He struggled, trying desperately to break free from their grasp, but they held him tightly. Alfred had just emerged from the room when the elevator doors closed, and Arthur cried out through the gag. His pulse was racing. He was sure they were going to kill him. There was no point in keeping him alive. Why had they even bothered to take him in the first place? Granted, they had been going for Matthew, but there was no reason to use him as a replacement, was there?

They emerged in the basement level, and Arthur continued to struggle with them. Until he saw Russia. He sat on a metal table next to the door that must have led to the building's boiler room. He was whistling slowly, and Arthur recognized it as a Russian war tune. He felt his blood run cold. Ivan's frigid violet eyes landed on him, a pale eyebrow rising curiously.

"What is he doing here, Yao?"

Yao bowed his head. "My apologies. I attempted to reclaim the parallel Matthew as you instructed, but I failed. I am hoping the parallel Arthur makes a suitable replacement."

Ivan slipped off the table and waltzed over to him, gripping his hair tightly and forcing him to meet his eyes. He smirked. "I supposed he will do. I only intended to make an example." He grabbed Arthur's chin and squeezed it tightly. "You will do just fine for my message." Arthur caught the gleam of a knife moments before he was flung to the floor, his head striking the rough concrete. Dazed, he couldn't get his bearings, any by the time he'd recovered, Ivan was on him again. The knife sliced right through his shirt, and he writhed, trying to escape. His heart raced. What is he doing? Oh God, he's going to rape me too! He kicked out, only for Ivan to slam his head back into the floor. Dazzling stars danced in his vision, and he went limp, unable to fight any longer.

Ivan's chilling breath brushed past his ear just as the tip of the knife was pressed in the skin of Arthur's bare break. "Do make sure you deliver my message promptly."

The snipers had finally stopped their barrage. The remaining nations quickly exited the room, one by one. Al, his injured leg now wrapped in his lover's shirt, trained his eyes on the window, searching for any signs of movement. Seeing none, he slipped out of the room behind the rest of the nations. Just in time to watch Alfred punch a hole right through the wall. He was seething, his teeth bared, his eyes wide and wild. No one seemed to know how to calm him down, not even his own brother. And Artie was whispering to him softly, trying to soothe him, to no avail.

"We have to get him back." Alfred growled. "Now. They could still be in the building. We have to find them before…" He clenched his eyes shut, pressing his head against his wall, no doubt imagining the heinous things that Ivan was probably doing to the other Arthur.

"But Russia could have men stationed all throughout the building." Netherlands pointed out. "We can't just go after him guns blazing. That's never going to work. They've already outsmarted us once today. I don't want a repeat of what just happened in that conference room."

Alfred made no reply, and he sank to the floor, burying his face in his hands. Al's heart went out to him. He knew he'd be in the same condition if it was his Arthur. In fact, he still felt apprehensive, still felt devastated even though it was a parallel double of his lover and not his own. It was still Arthur, no matter which world he was from. He was just about to suggest a plan of action when his phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, revealing he had a text message.

'South End Hospital. You'll find him there. And do head the message, by the way. Ivan is quite serious this time around.

-Yao'

Al felt cold. He was perplexed as to how Yao got his number, for one. And then, there was the contents of the message. Hospital. What had Ivan done to Arthur to put him in the hospital? He honestly wasn't sure he wanted to know, but if Arthur really was there, then they had to go get him. No…He surveyed the group assembled around him. They were in no condition for more shocks today, especially not his alternate self. He would have to handle this situation very carefully.

"Everyone, listen up." All eyes were on him. "I want you all to head to the airport. We need to find a safe location to use as base. I want you all to figure one out. We were sitting ducks here because the meeting was so open. We're going to need to be highly secretive from now on, and we need to proceed carefully. So go grab your things—in groups, please—and assemble back at the airport. I want to be out of London by tonight."

Artie eyed him suspiciously. "Why are talking like you're not coming with us?"

"I'll meet up with you later. I'm going to grab us some more weapons."

Artie frowned. "We have enough weapons. And you're injured. You should—"

Al pulled at the strings he could find. "Well, seeing as we just got the crap beat out of us by a couple of snipers, apparently not. I'll meet up with you by 7:00 PM, okay? I promise. And I'll stop by the hospital on the way and get my leg checked out." He leaned in and kissed his lover on the cheek. "Just keep everyone calm, Arthur." He whispered.

He could tell his lover still didn't buy his excuse, but Artie let him go anyway. He backed down the hallway and quickly searched for the exit, hailing a cab and ordering it to take it him to the given hospital. It could easily be a trap, a ploy, but he had no choice. The parallels had already been through so much, all because of his world's Yao, and now…Russia. He needed to nip this in the bud. Before Ivan really got back on his feet. Before the world started to crumble until his cruelty again.

He rushed into the hospital, claiming to need urgent treatment. After—begrudgingly—allowing them to work on his leg for a few hours, he asked if Arthur was there. The nurse almost didn't let him through, but he pleaded with her, claiming to be his life partner. She finally relented and gave him the room number. He wasn't in the ICU (thankfully), but according to a nurse he met in the doorway to the room, he was in pretty bad condition. Slowly, he walked toward the curtain that blocked Arthur off from the rest of the world. He was expecting a lot of things. To find him mutilated beyond recognition. To find him missing limbs.

What he was not expecting to find was Arthur awake.

Tired green eyes languidly slid over to him. "You…not my Alfred."

Al shook his head. "No, the other one. I came to get you."

"How'd you know I was here?" His voice was dead and dull, and Al swallowed, wondering just what the hell Ivan had done to him. He had some ideas, and he hoped to God he was wrong.

"Yao sent me a message."

Arthur chuckled dryly under his breath, smiling bitterly. "Funny. Ivan sent you one too."

"What?" Al didn't know what he was getting at.

Without warning, Arthur climbed out of the bed and tore off the hospital-issued gown, leaving himself completely nude save for a massive amount of gauze that wrapped around his torso, covering his entire back. Al's mouth hung open, failing to allow any words to emerge. Arthur began unraveling the gauze, bit by bit, slow revealing a bloody mess of wounds on his back. As more of the tortured skin was revealed, Al, sickened, realized it wasn't just random wounds. Ivan had written something into Arthur's back, carved a message into Arthur's skin.

As the last of the gauze fell away, Al thought he was going to throw up. Scrawled into Arthur's back in wide, angry, open cuts was a massive hammer and sickle surrounded by several Russian sentences. And as much as he hated to admit, Al could read Russian perfectly.

"So, what does it say?" Arthur asked him coldly.

Al licked his dry lips, struggling to find words. "It…It says…It says 'No longer is this a game, and no longer are there pawns and kings. Now, there is only you and me and death. Remember well, America, that I was once the shepherd who would herald a new age for you poor little lambs. But you have defied me for the last time. And now I will no longer offer you solace. Now I will be the shepherd that leads you to the slaughter. And I will leave no one safe. Not in this world or the other.'"

Dro: I never realized Ivan was so poetic. Huh...You know, there's a lot of Fridge Horror in this chapter. Don't know what that is? Go to TV Tropes. Love that place. There probably ten tons of pages just on Hetalia.

Next Chapter: A chapter solely consisting of Al's POV, wherein he contemplates just about everything that's happened so far, including Arthur's new injuries, Artie's sudden coldness, and their odds of beating Russia before he screws up the world again. There's also a restaurant involved. And a phone call.