The corridors were empty except for the odd security guard who watched him until he left their sights. He took a luxury paced stroll and waved to each of them upon passing. A dorky smile was stuck on his face. It felt good to stretch his legs after days in the hospital bed. Thank goodness for a nation's ability to heal quicker than the norm. The headaches were even gone after a week. In fact, there was no tell-tale sign upon his body that anything had happened to him at all.
He paused outside a couple of large doors. There was no security here given the risk of someone eavesdropping on the rather loud conversations held inside. Funny really, since there were times that the entire building would have heard everyone inside screaming and shouting. Actually, he could hear some loud insults being exchanged already.
Alfred chuckled and straightened up his stars and stripes tie then checked his watch (he wasn't that late) before opening the doors and strutting in. There was a brief silence and he could feel several eyes fall upon him. It was a tense enough atmosphere but Alfred's broad grin showed he either didn't feel it or didn't care. When the doors closed behind him, there was an instant uproar.
"Where have you been?!"
"It was your turn an hour ago!"
"Do you have no respect?!"
"What's your excuse this time?"
Ouch. They made it sound like this was a recurring instance. It wasn't entirely his fault. He held his hands in the air and shrugged. "Dudes, you would not believe this but -"
"If you say you were abducted by aliens -"
"- Nah, that's my next excuse. This one is real!" He protested as the exasperated sighs and scoffs began. "I was on my way here when I saw a crook drag a girl into an alley and -"
"Just sit down or get out," one snapped impatiently.
Alfred saluted them mockingly and went to his space by the other side of the room. The moment he sat down, the nations returned to their former topic. He didn't even listen to find out what he had missed from Canada who was sitting beside him. He was pouting from being told off without completing his story. It wasn't an entire lie. He did see a crook take a girl into an alley. And then he had a delicious snack after tending to the potential crime. Each time he licked his lips, he could still taste the bitterness left behind and it made him smile once more.
The American nation leant back in his chair, rocking gently on his heels. Most of the nations were drawn into the debate. It was funny watching them. Sure, each of them were allowed to give their own thoughts and opinions on the matter at hand but it was silly how they did so. None of them listened to anyone. They would all sit there, waiting for a close ally or rival to speak before responding. For example, the Nordics. The first one to begin speaking every time was Denmark. The moment he voiced his thoughts, Norway or Sweden would respond to counter his statement. Then Iceland would be dragged into it to back Norway up or Finland would try to settle the matter.
Every group was the same in that way. So while everyone was talking, very few were listening.
And for the first time in a meeting, America was not the one to shout above all others. Instead, Alfred was sitting there in silence. He crossed his arms over his chest and gazed over the scene in front of him until his eyes fell onto England. Strangely, Arthur was not caught up in a heated argument. England was drawing over his notes with his head rested on his hand. He looked lost in thought.
Alfred stared.
Gradually, England's form became tense. The pen in his hand stopped. There was a red colour forming on his cheeks. He didn't move. Alfred could hear the heartbeat pick up speed. A couple of times, the Briton looked up with false interest in what his neighbours were saying but he did not look over in Alfred's direction.
The front two legs of the chair fell back onto the floor. Alfred leant forward with his pose sub-consciously mimicking Arthur's. He picked up a pen and held the tip in his mouth. Never did his eyes leave Arthur. His teeth didn't touch the pen - only his lips - as he slowly eased it in and out of his mouth. As he did so, Arthur was going hunch over the table until his head hit the desk.
France, who was sitting beside Arthur, leant over and poked the top of the English nation's head. It was not the best move to make. Arthur's hand rose and grasped hold of Francis' tie and yanked him down with no concern over the Frenchman's well-being. Though Alfred could not see his lips, he was certain Arthur had said something for Francis looked up in his direction (not bothering to be discreet). Alfred smirked and winked. France looked back down and responded to Arthur's now obvious question.
Arthur's hand dropped from Francis' tie and raised in front of him with two fingers stuck up in rude gesture. Alfred pouted.
Giving up on Arthur for now, Alfred returned to rocking back on his seat. He checked his watch every now and then, waiting for the moment the big hand will hit the time for a coffee break. Which it did in just under ten minutes. None of the nations seem to acknowledge it though but Alfred wasn't going to stick around. He stood up and pushed in his chair.
A couple of nations looked up.
"Where are you going?"
"It's coffee time!"
"No it's not. It was only - when did it get to that time?"
The mutters of confusion went short due to the anticipation for a hot beverage with snack on the side. Squeaks of chairs repeated across the room. Alfred was barely halfway to Arthur when countries blocked his path. He frowned in annoyance and attempted to divert his way through. By the time he got to the door, Arthur was already gone and France was lingering back to, what Alfred would call, 'cock-block'.
"You and Angleterre," he said softly with a knowing smile. "You behave like two boys encountering their first crush."
Alfred disguised his annoyance with an amused smile. "Really? Is he a good lover? I am in need of a quick fuck or two."
Surprised by Alfred's blunt nature, Francis raised two perfect fair eyebrows. "Oui, if lazy and sloppy is your style."
"Maybe it is. Excuse me." Alfred brushed Francis aside and went down the corridor in search for the Briton. He probably went to the cafe area. Alfred could easily corner him there but he didn't fancy having others watch. Arthur would drink his usual amount of tea, maybe more because he was flustered, and then... would require a toilet break.
He turned on his toes and altered his direction towards the restrooms. The door swung open. It was surprisingly empty. Well, he thought with a small smile, not that surprising. Why spoil a good moment by having someone walk in? Alfred walked over to one of the sinks and turned on a tap. The water ran over his hands, cool to the touch despite it coming from the hot water tap. He ran a damp hand across his face, causing his glasses to go crooked.
Texas was removed from his face. He gazed through the lenses to the mirror, seeing his altered dark reflection staring back at him. Still damn good looking, he noted as he placed his spectacles back upon his face. His fist tightened suddenly and smashed into the glasses. Large cracks ran through, splitting off into smaller cracks, till the entire thing looked like a reflective mosaic piece with drops of dark blood left within the centre.
He held his hand over his mouth, letting the blood drip in before running his tongue across the small cuts. A minor scratch like that would be healed up within an hour at the most. His arms dropped back to the side and he peered sideways towards the door, waiting motionlessly like a statue.
His patience paid off when the door opened and Arthur stepped inside, complaining about people not knowing how to make a good cup of tea when he noticed Alfred standing there. He stopped in his tracks.
"I, er, will use a stall," he muttered, barely taking two steps when Alfred's arm blocked his path. "What the -"
"Dinner tonight?" Alfred offered with broad grin. "We can go anywhere you want."
"No." Arthur frowned and attempted to move under Alfred's arm only for Alfred to drop it down further to keep blocking him. "I have a plane to catch straight - will you move, damn it?"
"You don't have a hotel booked?" Alfred pouted again, hoping to charm over Arthur with cuteness. "We can share mine. There's a double size bed and -"
"I believe I told you no. I have important matters to attend to and I cannot waste time on needless activities like eating out." Arthur stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Move or I will make you."
Alfred ignored the threat. "Then I can take you to the airport. We can get a taxi together and -"
"Alfred. I'm warning you."
"If you don't want that, I can go back with you. I won't mind visiting Britain again."
Arthur gritted his teeth. Any other time, Arthur would love to hear Alfred trying to make plans for them but this was not a good time and he was losing his patience with the thick-headed fool. "I travel alone. Understood?"
"I can get the next flight," Alfred shrugged. "Don't bother me."
"Alfred, I swear. If you don't move this second-"
England was suddenly cut off when Alfred stepped closer. Arthur stepped back and regretted it instantly when his back hit the door. Alfred trapped him in and leant close, causing the rise of temperature in Arthur's cheeks.
"Then when?" Alfred asked impatiently.
His mind panicking, Arthur reacted without thinking. He raised his knee sharply to Alfred's groin with enough force to make Alfred stumble back. With his path cleared, Arthur darted into one of the stalls and locked it behind him.
Alfred knelt on the tiled floor. His hand grasped the rim of one of the sinks while the other held over his sore area. That was a low trick and he should have suspected England to pull off a stunt like that. Growling faintly, he pulled himself up and caught one last glimpse in the cracked mirror. Bright blue eyes peered back at him from each broken pane. Glaring darkly at it, he left the room.
Those eyes…. Those inhuman eyes…. They were the last thing he remembered before he felt himself falling deep into the darkness. It engulfed his entire body and swallowed him up then latched onto his limbs, immobilising him, while a great pressure pushed down onto his chest so he was desperately gasping for air. His mind was spinning. His imagination must be going wild for it felt… it felt…. No, his imagination played no part of it.
Hands were clawing, gripping, and squeezing his body. His eyes were darting around; trying to locate the source but it was all black. Tears ran down his face as fear touched him like it never had before. But the worst part was the silence. Only the sound of his gasps was heard – echoing out like an army of men were surrounding him.
America frantically tried to twist his arm and flex his fingers, wanting to grasp what was pinning him down. The grip in the darkness tightened so a shot of pain ran along his limp. He screamed out yet was cut off into a muffled cry. His eyes widened. This was no ordinary darkness…. Something, or somethings, were lurking in it: something that he could not see nor touch.
They were holding him down, trying to tear him apart, and stealing his every breath away from him.
A fresh sound of a shirt ripping briefly lingered. Pressure increased on his stomach. He held his breath and clenched his eyes shut. This must be a dream… Nothing but a dream. Y-yes! It had to be! H-he just fell asleep watching a freaky horror about a blue-eyed ghost and now he was having a terrible nightmare.
His stomach twisted. Physically twisted. A high pitched scream was stolen from his lips and lost amongst the darkness. Hands plunged in deep, causing his body to thrush around.
"S-stop…! STOP! L-let me go! … Help!... S-someone please h-help me…."
Yells broke into sobs until even his tears were taken from him.
America didn't know how long he was there for. Every second felt like a year. He didn't know where he was or what was happening to him. The only thing he could register was the constant pain that tore through his body.
His throat was sore. His eyes were sore. Every single part of his body was sore. Yet his stubborn pride was staying intact and mentally fought back against the pain the best it could. America gritted his teeth. He had come to accept that no one was coming to get him. He had no one to rely on except himself. And he could barely move.
He tried to focus on thinking of an escape. All things had a weakness - even the great United States of America. This thick darkness must have one too. Yet it was difficult to think of what it could be when those monsters were still trying to grab at his flesh and bone.
Darkness… What would scare darkness? If he could remove it then he might be able to see what was causing this painful torture then punch them in their faces. Light would be ideal but he had no torch, no fire, not even a match -
Wait… He did have something! Trembling from the spasms in his nervous system, his hand struggled against the holds on it and rose to his chest. His fingers awkwardly pushed inside the ripped ruined jacket. It took many attempts but, finally, he was able to get a firm enough grasp on the lighter and withdrew it out.
He pressed down his thumb on the metal grinders and pushed down. One spark emitted out then vanished. America tried again. Another fleeting spark. Then another. And another. Each vanishing milliseconds after appearing.
Pleading mentally, America pushed down hard on the metal grinders again. A tiny flame flared into action. Hand shaking, he raised the lighter as high as he could.
America instantly regretted it.
Gazing at him an inch away was a white pale face. It had large empty sockets where eyes had once been. The creature was completely bald and, as it stretched open its mouth, the left side of its bottom jaw fell apart and dangled by a piece of skin. Its tongue fell down with the tip hitting against its revealed ribcage. Unable to move, America could only stare in alarm as it reached out its stumped fingers and attempt to grasp the flame. Its touch was chilly against his skin.
The lighter jerked out of his hold and the darkness returned in a flash. America saw nothing else of the creature or its kind. Yet he could still feel them. Had he been in the ideal frame of mind, he would have noticed the pressures weakening on him. But he didn't. His mind went completely blank and he was unconscious before the lighter fell.