TOOK LONG ENOUGH.
For such a simple chapter, it really took a while to get back into the groove of things. Please RandR. Love you all! Thanks for being patient!
…
GILD
CHAPTER FOUR
On the eleventh day, somebody finally came forward; good thing too, because rations were running dangerously low. The waterlines had been torn out on one of the first few days so that the faucets became unusable. Nobody dared venture outside for food either; there were men in black-padded suits everywhere, scrounging around and taking aim at any living thing that moved. Not only that, but the electricity that so drove the city before had been completely shut off.
Alfred realized something with a jolt…the sky. It suddenly seemed all the stranger…that, on this particular day…it just so happened to be blue.
Everyone was standing at the cracked windows as the announcement began, starting off with a little burst of feedback.
"Citizens of New York," A gruff voice echoed through the bank's mega-speakers. Since the first fire, planes sleek as snakes had been docking on its landing bays. "And, all of you people without lives of your own to live, tuning in on the TV, broadcasted through the many news helicopters circling the city…As you can probably tell, this city is under our control now. This is the moment in time when I'll idolize myself by asking for some ridiculous some of money, which most people don't even realize exist, let alone how to write it down…But, I have something else I want."
Alfred held his breath and pressed his palm up against the cracked pane so that the bank building was partially obscured. Anything…anything they wanted…they could have it. As long as nobody else died…as long as everybody was safe.
"I want silence. Give me peace."
What?
"Nobody enters the bank, or the whole city goes five-hundred feet in the air." The man expanded, "I'm not after your money, it's something hidden that I want. Someone hidden. When I find them, I'll leave. Until then, everything stays the same." There was a pause, "Oh yeah, and all of you are going to die unless we find it by this time next week. I'm sure your president knows what's going on. Ask him to save you." With another static burst, the transmission was cut off.
God Damnit.
"What's going on America?" England asked, puzzled, "What do they want?"
"I have no idea…" Alfred answered, "But…I'm not just going to stand here and wait to die."
"Of course you're not." England smiled knowingly, "I never expected you to. You're going to rush in there, and play Hero, aren't you? Playing God isn't for the faint of heart, Alfred. Think about this…"
"Perhaps I'm not playing God. Maybe I'm playing with Him." Al deftly stated. England furrowed his thick eyebrows and frowned.
"Someone's gotta stay and keep an eye things." He said. Poland overheard and piped up.
"I'll be glad to stay behind if you're going in there!" He quipped, "No way am I going to get shooted at!"
"I'll stay behind as well." England offered, "Lord knows what help Poland will be alone. This apartment will be our base of operations: Poland and I will keep watch from out here and see of anything shifty is going on."
Iceland shivered and rubbed his temple bit. America wondered if the war was getting worse or better in his country. "Didn't you guys hear that?" He complained, "If we go in there, that guy will blow up the city. I don't doubt that he's already got something rigged under us right now. That's probably why all the streets are ripped up."
"No way would he risk destroying what he wants though…" Canada spoke up quietly. America acknowledged him with a nod.
"Exactly."
"We're going to get people killed!" Spain cried.
"It's worth the risk." England said, "Ten quid says that those wankers blow the city when they're done anyway."
"And my boss isn't going to do anything about this…" America wanted to explain more, but stopped. He didn't want to look weak in front of the other countries. Truth was, his boss hadn't exactly been helpful lately.
"Well, I guess our minds are set?" Russia asked cheerfully. Belarus growled in disdain, although America pretty much knew by now that it could be translated as either a 'yes' or a 'no'. He nodded.
"Poland, England, I have some Walkie Talkies. We'll keep in touch that way." He announced, "The rest of you, we'll need guns. I've got an armory."
"but…Ah…" Canada tried to object, but nobody listened, per usual. Iceland followed the others as they tailed America down one of the hallways they hadn't noticed before. He dragged Canada along with him.
The hall lead into a smaller hallway, which eventually led to a large metal door with a code-lock on it. Alfred punched in a four-digit combination and the door allowed everyone to pass with a creak. Inside, the room was vast and painfully white, lined with too many weapons to count. Some were big, some were small, but all were deadly.
"Take something. Let's hurry, I want to be off as soon as possible." Al announced, hefting himself up onto a shelf and sliding a few cartridges for his pistol into his many pockets. The other countries were quick to catch on; Russia smiled wickedly and tried on an Ak-47, while Bela added to her knife collection. Spain and Romano decided on matching SMGs. Iceland stared around a while, trying to let this all settle in, before noticing a rather uncomfortable looking Canada trailing after him, followed slowly by Kuma-san.
"Something wrong?" Iceland asked curiously. He picked up Kumajirou, much to the small bear's protests, and set him on his shoulders. Ice swayed with this new weight.
"I've never really used a gun before…" Canada admitted, "I don't know where to start…"
"It's ok." Iceland tried to balance himself correctly as he spoke, "It's not that hard. You'll learn fast. Try something smaller first, like a Glock. It's got quite a kick, but I don't think anything less than that will do."
"What does a Glock look like?"
"…" Instead of attempting to explain it, Iceland lead Canada to weapon and gave him a few pointers before wandering off to find something of his own, still with kuma holding fast to his shoulders. In the end, Ice went with a small firearm similar to the one he had back home; a small, silver number with the kick of Chuck Norris. America saw that everyone was ready and jumped off of the shelf.
"Let's go."