im back!
:D
guys! i knew i would screw up something in the previous chapter! ALFRED IS NOT THE MISSING CHARACTER! sorry if it caused any confusion...
anyway, many already guessed who it is! :D
ah, finally spring has started here in italy. it's been horrible weather since october, but now the sun is shining again! and everything is in bloom! :3 its very inspiring
i made two other drawings (im getting WAY too obsessed with this story!) they're on deviantart, if anyone is interested!
/art/Nightmare-Apocalypse-Playing-the-hero-3652715 86?q=gallery%3Aleluireclaanna%2F29929887&qo=3
/art/Nightmare-Apocalypse-REDs-II-365244375?q=gallery%3Aleluireclaanna%2F29929887&qo=2
huh, but let's get on with the story, shall we?
ENJOY
Tino shook his head, discouraged. "It…it's impossible…!"
"Nee, we can do it!" Bella retorted.
The Fin looked desperate. He wiped his forehead, smudging it with a little blood. "Bella, look! He has a punctured lung, and a lot of broken ribs. I am no medic, and I don't know how to treat this! And neither do you!"
Arthur was lying motionlessly on the table in his own medical room. Bella and Tino were able to patch Mathias and Berwald, while Ludwig and Romano were looking after Feliciano. The Belgian and Fin were also able to patch Arthur's shoulders and abdomen up, but the two wounds on his chest were horrible, to say the least. The left wound looked like it didn't hit the lung, so that one they could patch up in one way or the other. But the right one… Every time the Brit breathed the air would wheeze through the hole, with a gruesome gurgle.
"I… maybe I can do something…" Kiku offered, coming inside. "I am no professional… but what I do know is that you mustn't let blood or air get into his lungs from the wound, and make it possible for the air to get out."
"Are you sure…? How can you even do that?" Tino asked hesitantly.
Arthur started a cough fit, blood trickling down from the corner of his mouth and the wound gurgling disturbingly.
"It's worth the try! Otherwise Arthur will probably die. Do what you can, please!" Bella shoved Kiku near the table.
The Japanese took a deep breath, concentrating and looking down at the wheezing Brit. "Hai."
Mathias woke up with a start, the lower part of his torso burning. He quickly sat up, but instantly regretted it as his abdomen started hurting like hell. "Gah…!" He hissed, putting a hand over his stomach, lying down again. He was lying on a mattress, in a room. He glanced sideways, and noticed a once white small beret in one corner. Hm, that was Tino's favourite hat. That meant this was his room.
Why was he here?
And why did his abdomen hurt so much…? He touched the soft warm fabric there with his fingers.
He spent a minute wondering about that, until the recent events came crushing down on him like a tidal wave. Arthur. The RED. Lukas. The ice. Berwald. Lukas, sinking his claw deep into his flesh… a gasoline tank. Lukas.
"Lukas!" The Dane exclaimed, sitting up again. He held back a loud groan, as his stomach screamed in protest. He looked down, and noticed his shirt had been cut open. Probably to get to his wound. He grimaced as he saw the bloody bandages. He probably had been stitched up too. And without painkillers, the pain was increased tenfold.
"Lort…!" He cussed, and a string of Danish curses soon followed as he stood up. He wobbled on his feet, and leaned on the wall to stand straight. Nonetheless his shoulders were hunched, while his left hand covered his abdomen. A single sweat drop trickled down his cheek, as he took a deep breath.
"One step at the time."
And he started walking.
He stood in darkness. If he was standing. Maybe he was lying down.
Honestly, he couldn't tell. And didn't care either.
He felt cold. So cold…as if his heart had frozen up and had stopped beating.
In his veins the blood wasn't flowing. It had frozen up as well.
His breathing was erratic. Correction, he almost couldn't breathe. And the small amount of air he managed to get into his lungs scratched his windpipe, and was also glacial.
He couldn't stand all this coldness. It felt so painful, so bitter, so…lonely.
But…what was there besides the cold? What was warmth exactly? He couldn't remember what it felt like. Did it even exist?
Something flew through the darkness. A red object. He heard a voice, echoing through the darkness. "Norge! Catch!"
He did catch the object.
Did he know that voice…?
…No.
And that was definitely not his name. He didn't remember what his name was, actually…
But he did know what the object in his hands was. A gasoline tank. He dropped it, and it fell down, through the floor(if you could call the thing he was standing on floor). It fell deep, deep, until he couldn't see it anymore. Then it flared brightly, and exploded. He shielded his eyes for the light, but otherwise the thing had no effect on him.
Suddenly something pressed down his chest. Heavily. Get off…! He tried to move that something but he found out he couldn't move himself anymore. Why was he blocked?!
The thing on his chest pressed down even more. He was already having problems breathing alone, he didn't need something making it more difficult! But then something happened. Something was moving inside his body. It left his fingertips and toes, and then retracted more, going up his elbows and knees.
Wait.
Was the coldness leaving him?
The thing on his chest was absorbing the coldness away from his body…? How..?
The ice in his body had almost left him completely, it was only in his heart now. It seemed to take more time to melt than the rest of the body, as if resisting. But then even his heart defrosted. And it started beating again. First unsure, almost having forgotten how to do it. One beat. Two beats.
Ba-bump. Ba-bump. The beating resumed, regularly.
…
…What a wonderful feeling…!
His blood started flowing again, making his fingertips tingle.
So this was what warmth felt like. He kind of remembered now… didn't he?
Then his lower back started hurting. Burning. That was too much warmth…!
But, as soon as it had come, it disappeared. He heard a snap somewhere.
Weird.
In the darkness around him something stirred. Again, the voice of before. "Norge…! Norge, wake up."
He looked around confusedly. Where was it coming from? It echoed through the dark space around him, he couldn't pinpoint the source.
"Norge!"
Dang it, that voice was way too loud. He winced. Suddenly something wrapped itself on his left ankle.
What…?! He looked down, and saw a black, clawed hand holding firmly onto his ankle. Deep down below him, two purple eyes shone in the complete darkness, and he had the strangest feeling of being smiled at. He shuddered, and shouted in surprise as the hand started pulling him down.
Where could he hold on to? He wasn't standing on anything anymore! He was more…floating in water, now. Yes, that was the feeling. And… he couldn't breathe again. Great. He tried prying away the claws from his ankle, but those fingers were as strong as steel.
The thing dragged him down slowly, and he flailed his arms around to find something, anything to hold on to.
He didn't find anything. He was slowly getting nearer and nearer to the owner of those eyes.
…No! No! He didn't want that…! he thought in fear. He knew something bad would happen if he did that again!
Wait, again…? So he had done it before…?
…He couldn't remember…
His mind was getting numb because of the lack of oxygen. He stopped struggling, and let his arms dangle above his head. He opened his mouth, and saw silvery bubbles escape his lungs and float upwards, although he didn't swallow water. He was just…empty.
He let the thing drag him down in those unknown depths.
"NORGE!"
A hand grabbed his, and held on tightly.
What…?
His head snapped up, and suddenly he could breathe again. He saw a hand coming from above him. Someone was…saving him…? He couldn't make out the features of that person, he only could see the lower half of his face. The somebody called out to him again. "Norge, wake up already, dammit!"
That voice was so familiar… The grasp on his ankle tightened, and the hand started pulling harder. He grasped onto the hand of the unknown person, and held on tightly.
The thing in the abyss under him got angry, and howled as his grip weakened. Slowly, very slowly, he started going up again, pulled by the other person.
He grabbed the arm of the stranger with two hands, and so did the unknown man. The black hand abruptly let go, snarling with rage, his prey lost. The sudden lack of an opposite strength made him shoot up in the air. Wait, where did the water go…?
He was soaring upwards, and he vaguely saw the stranger in the distance, down below him. He was looking up, smirking…
All of the sudden he recognised him, and murmured his name. "…Mathias…?"
And then, flying upwards, he broke the surface.
His eyes hurt so much.
It was worse than last time it had happened. Back then Lukas had frozen his eyes, and it had hurt. A lot. His vision had blurred, and it had felt like his eyeballs were on fire.
But after they had thawed out, he could see again. His eyesight had worsened a lot, but he could see, at least.
Now his eyes were wounded. He didn't know how bad it was, actually. He only knew that the pain reached deep inside his skull.
He surrendered himself to the idea he would never be able to see again.
He would be blind forever. He wouldn't be able to see colours anymore. No blue, no green, no red… Only now he realized what a great gift the eyesight actually was. He would never see Tino's face again…
Berwald sighed, bringing a hand up to his bandaged face. He touched the fabric softly, but nonetheless he hissed as the brief contact hurt a lot.
He brought his hand down, and felt the space around him. He guessed he had been brought to the dining cave again, after Bella had disinfected and wrapped his face. Mostly because of the chilly air (the temperature was still a bit lower than normal, even if Ludwig had told him the ice had crumbled and disappeared) and because he was sitting on a soft sofa.
Someone nearby was breathing deeply, as if sound asleep.
Who was it? Berwald tentatively extended one hand, reaching to where the sound was coming from. He touched wood, so it was the table. Wait, was the person lying on the table? Like with Francis…
He stood up, moving both hands now and careful not to hit anything. Moving in complete darkness was difficult, after all.
Why was the surface of the table wet? He heard dripping noises. He felt around more, even if he probably already guessed who it was. He touched a face, and his fingers immediately went cold. As if he had just touched a lump of ice. And then he found something covering half of the face: a mask.
Yes, it was Lukas already.
So if he had been laid down here, did it mean Feliciano had cured him?
While he was touching the Norwegian's face, Berwald felt him frown, and then he heard a crack. Lukas' face and hair were all wet, probably because of the ice melting. So he was definitely healing…!
Despite himself, he smiled. Mathias and Tino would be so happy…!
Suddenly he heard footsteps, shuffled ones, and laboured breathing. Was someone having difficulties walking?
"Wh''s th're?" Berwald asked, moving his head left and right out of habit, but of course not seeing anything.
He heard a soft groan, and the steps came nearer. Berwald got nervous, and took a step back, hitting the sofa with his heel. He still was moving his head to both sides frantically.
"Calm down, big guy, it's me…!" a recognizable voice wheezed.
Berwald frowned. "M'thias…? Yoo sh'uldn't w'lk 'round like th't! Your w'und…" He had heard from Bella that Mathias had gotten a pretty deep wound in his abdomen.
"Screw the wound! I had to check up on him, didn't I? So…Feliciano cured him…?" Disbelief tainted the Dane's words.
The Swede nodded slowly, moving his hands behind himself to find the sofa again. When he touched the fabric of the sofa, he sat down. "Hn."
Mathias looked down at the Norwegian that was lying on the table. Unlike with Francis, he hadn't been strapped with leather belts. Now that they knew Feliciano could fully heal them, it didn't look necessary.
Lukas was lying in a puddle of water, almost literally. His clothes were soaking wet, as was his hair. From the table water kept falling in big fat drops, which pooled under the table. The Norwegian's tail rested half on the table and half on the ground, also wet.
Mathias hissed as his stitched abdomen burned in pain, and he gripped the edge of the table to stand straight. He looked up at Berwald, who had sat down.
His face had been cleaned up from the blood, and now many gauzes covered the upper half of his face. The Dane's stomach churned as he noticed they were stained red from the blood. He honestly didn't want to know how the Swede was feeling. Not only would the wound would hurt, and his eyes, but the mere though of being…blind…unsettled him.
He looked at Lukas again. The armour on his abdomen had cracked because of the explosion, but now it was cracking in other places as well, like what happened to Francis. It wasn't coated in ice anymore and was becoming brittle. Suddenly a loud snap echoed through the cave, and Mathias' eyes widened as the tail landed on the floor with a thud. Nothing happened for a few seconds, and then out of nowhere it crumbled into dust.
"Wh't was th't?" Berwald asked.
Mathias blinked. "Norge's tail fell off…and crumbled into dust."
The Swede's eyebrows shot up, but it must have hurt because he winced, bringing them down immediately.
Then the sound of many cracks filled the cave, as the rest armour crumbled away as well.
What was left on the table was a Norwegian man, soaking wet and with tattered clothes. But human.
Mathias' eyes somehow started filling up with tears. "Norge…!" He turned his head to the Swede, knowing that he couldn't see. "Sve! He's n-normal again!" his voice cracked a little.
'Sve' nodded, looking relieved. He smiled, actually smiled a genuine smile. Mathias' hadn't used their stupid nicknames ever since Lukas had turned into a RED. The fact that he had called him and Lukas 'Norge' and 'Sve' was a very good sign.
Mathias was openly crying out of joy now, petting Lukas' wet hair. He chuckled, and that simple action caused him to wince, his abdomen reminding him that he was wounded. He didn't care, and smiled.
He stopped smiling as the Norwegian's serene face turned into a scowl. Like he was having a nightmare. The Dane frowned. That had happened to Francis too, he remembered. So he tried to wake him up.
"Norge…! Norge, wake up." he called out to him, moving his shoulders. He gained no reaction, however. Lukas was frowning deeply and grimacing, as if fighting something.
"M'thias…" Berwald muttered, standing up, worried because of the Dane's reaction.
"Norge!" He now was slamming Lukas' shoulders up and down against the table.
The Norwegian winced, before his face became serene again, exhaling. His body went even limper than before. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. He had stopped breathing.
"NORGE!" Mathias slapped him across the cheek, almost panicking.
Lukas' mouth opened, inhaling sharply. He breathed again, and his body tensed up, but still his eyes refused to open. Berwald was standing awkwardly beside the table, not knowing what to do.
The Dane was relieved for a second, and then slapped Lukas across the cheek repeatedly. "Norge, wake up already, dammit!"
Finally, Lukas' eyes shot open, inhaling sharply yet again. He sat up, coughing. Mathias was beyond happiness. Too many emotions filled his chest, all confused. Happiness, joy, relief… His legs buckled under him, and he fell on his knees.
Berwald was smiling again, and after a few attempts, found Lukas' shoulders. He held them up, while the Norwegian was coughing.
"…M-Mathias…?" He managed to say between the coughs. "…Berwald?"
The Dane smiled widely, still crying. "Yea Norge. Welcome back."
…Some hours later, many kilometres away…
A white haired man sat upon a pile of rubble, scanning his surroundings.
He sighed, going with a clawed hand trough his hair. Where were they? It was almost noon. He had arrived there a bit later himself, he admitted it, but the others…Okay, maybe the Spaniard could be late, but Lukas was usually as accurate as a freaking Swiss clock. Gilbert furrowed his eyebrows. It actually was really extraordinary for the Norwegian to be late.
Suddenly he heard someone approaching, and he turned his head. He smirked, recognizing the man, although it was not the one he had expected.
"Yo, Antonio! Where have you been? Did you start digging a gold mine or something? You're late!" Gilbert chuckled, standing up and folding his arms.
Antonio neared him, and shook his head. "I'm sorry…no, no mines, but I did find some gold…!" he said, his eyes glinting in delight, holding up a golden pocket watch for the albino to see. It looked like one of those turnips (was that how they were called?) of the previous century, or even the one before that.
"Toni, where did you even get that? It's museum rubbish!" Gilbert smirked, mocking the Spaniard. He reached out for it to take a better look, but Antonio immediately retracted the hand, clutching the golden object to his chest.
"…Mine." He hissed.
Gilbert raised his hands in defeat, stepping back. "Whoa, chill, Toni! I wasn't going to take that from you…!"
The Spaniard did not react, and put the watch carefully in his pocket and patting it. "…Where is Lukas?"
"I was just about to ask you if you had seen him. I take that you didn't?" The albino asked.
Antonio shrugged. "No."
Gilbert cupped his chin, thoughtful. "Strange. Lukas is always on time. Always. Even if it's just to rub it in that we are always late. And I didn't find Francis, that Arschloch."
The Spaniard nodded. "I didn't find any trace of Francis either."
"He probably died in a ditch somewhere."
"Wait…!" Antonio's eyes widened. "What if Lukas' city was the one Francis disappeared in, so he disappeared too?"
Gilbert grimaced. "Sheiße. Then we would be in trouble. Big fucking unawesome trouble"
"But we would have found the city…! And…" Antonio refused to say the word 'Master' if not forced to, "…he said that maybe the disappearances have something to do with the mistake he is always ranting about…"
"Good point, Toni! You're awesome! Not as awesome as me, mind you. But still! So…what should we do?"
Antonio shrugged, pointing out he had no idea.
The albino huffed. "Maybe…maybe we should go check that city too… We could find Francis or Lukas!"
"Or disappear like they did." The Spaniard mumbled.
"Uh, er… shit. But maybe we could trace them! We have a pretty astounding noses, don't we?"
Antonio's eyes narrowed. "No, it would be useless. Francis' trail would have disappeared altogether by now, and you forgot Lukas' habit of coating himself in ice. He leaves no scent at all."
"Dang it. I guess we'll have to head back and inform Master about Lukas' disappearance then…"
"He'll be angry." The Spaniard murmured, frowning.
Gilbert shivered. "Hell yes, he will…but he'll also know what to do next, don't you think?"
The man just shrugged again, and Gilbert started walking.
"Well then, it's settled! Let's go back. Oh!" the German suddenly remembered something. "Did you by any chance eat, along the way? Just so I know." He remembered he should stay wary of the Spaniard whenever he was hungry.
Antonio nodded slowly, walking past Gilbert. "…Sí… I ate a snack on the way here…" the albino, walking behind the Spaniard, saw him absentmindedly caress the pocket in which he had put away the golden watch.
…He now had the smallest intuition where Antonio had gotten that object from.
"…Gut. Let's go then."
guys! O_O 6000 views! 123 reviews! and all the new faves, and follows! YAAAY! you have NO idea how happy this makes me!
Thank you all so much! you are AWESOME U_U
as always, i will update on friday, or the days pior to that one ^^
have a nice sunday! :D
Nee : (dutch) no
Lort : (danish) shit
Arschloch : (german) asshole
Sheiße : (german) shit
Sí : (spanish) yes
Gut : (german) good