Whee, just having chapters running into each other. This chapter is also a continuation of the last one, because, I admit, it is very easy to write from China's perspective. At least for me. Apologies for Russia acting very OOC.
When I started this typing this, exam week was coming up, and now school's out! W00t XD
Sorry I don't update more, I spend my free time reading funny stuff and then don't have the heart to continue writing creepy stuff, and stuff that makes me feel awkwardish. But here it is! ^w^
Thanks to all those who review, and keep doing so!
So China sat up, a bit annoyed at being knocked unconscious so much. He remembered the white powder and wondering if it had done anything to him. Well, anything besides the obvious, that is. He took mental inventory of his injuries. No new throbbing wounds, no more infinity-sting marks. At least not on the surface.
The aliens have mercy, he thought. And yet they choose not to use it, aru. Well at least this time they did. He shivered, remembering the stings and the fire that came after.
And then he looked around properly.
We are back together again, aru! He thought exuberantly. Surely now we can think of an escape. America will have one of his heroic plans and we can all go home…
He crawled –walking was overrated- over to the still-unconscious nation, giving the waking-up Japan a light tap on the shoulder. "America." China shook him. "Wake up, we need you to be a hero, aru."
England met China at America's side, and China noticed that there were flecks of red blotting the other nation's unkempt tie. What happened? He wanted to ask, but instead he said "Now that we're all together again, we can plan, we can escape, ahen," disregarding his usual animosity towards him. England nodded, still looking a bit bewildered by it all. He turned to his ex-brother. "Wake up, you bloody git. We've got work to do. Wake up." He shook America, and China edged away, feeling superfluous and awkward.
"What happened?" groaned Japan, sparkle-less eyes dull. He looked as if he were about to throw up. China knew the feeling, and moved back a little to give him space if he did indeed decide to spew. "They knocked us out and rounded us up, aru." he answered.
"Okay," said Japan, looking less nauseous with his hands over his eyes. "I feel sick." He announced it with no great inflection, as usual. "I suppose it's the food." China remembered the sharp scent that the vaporized slime had given off. "The food could have chemicals in it that make us sick, aru. Like opium." His face hardened, and he glared at England, who was still trying to get America to wake up.
Japan sat up and then winced. "I think you might be right. I'll tell Germany." Still too shaky to get to his feet, he crawled in the direction of Germany, who was peering closely at a sting mark on Italy's hand, while the latter looked upset.
"Aiyaa," sighed China. "How does he ever bear it, aru?" Then he glanced over at England and France, who were squabbling again. America had woken up, and was laughing, albeit without his usual bubbly joy. I'm one to talk, he thought glumly to himself. He counted off the nations he saw. Yi, er, san, shi, wu, liu, qi…
Qi? Only seven? Where was Russia? A creeping fear lodged itself in his mind. The one he was most afraid of. Was he going to fulfill his part in the nightmare?
Empty bodies with lightless eyes piled on top of eachother in tilting towers. And in the center of it all stood a murderer streaked with red.
"No." China pressed his hands into his eyes. "No more nightmares, aru. They're not real, not real, not real…" It dissolved into a chant of meaningless syllables. Were the words now meaningless as well?
"So," said the murderer, "You've come." He grinned, and the still-damp blood on his clothes seemed to grow longer and darker and writhe all over like tentacles. "Have you ever healed someone's life in your hand?" The murderer raised a blood-crusted glove. China backed up, hitting a stack of of corpses, each still bleeding in some way. Gushing or oozing, it was still blood. One fell on him, and the feeling of the dead flesh against him made him want to scream.
China began rocking back and forth, tearing at the scabs on his lips with his teeth until his teeth were red, and his mouth was salty. "-they'renotrealthey'renotrealthey'renotreal-"
"Because it's quite an experience, I tell you." The murderer advanced, and China heaved the collapsed corpses off of him with the strength of panic. There was nowhere else to go. "here," said the murderer thoughtfully, and reached a red-stained hand into an equally bloody pocket, fishing out a handful of things China couldn't see. "These are for you."
China stared at the outstretched fist and didn't move.
"Take it." The murderer's voice was colder than snow. "Or I will kill you."
China reached out with shaking hands and cupped his palms. "Wise choice," said the murderer approvingly as he dropped the round sticky things into the bowl of fingers.
He felt warm wetness sticking to his hands and looked away, swallowing down bile. Whatever it was, he didn't want to know. "Look." Still fearful, China shook his head.
"Look." The voice had dropped ten degrees again, and a damp hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to look or have his jaw snapped off.
"-they'renotrealthey'renotreal-" China was curled up in the fetal position, eyes squeezed shut, hands locked around his knees.
Eyes. Just eyes, not connected to anything, brown and blue and green and gold. Familiar eyes. Two stern blue eyes that sometimes creased into a smile, trailing optic fibers. Two excitable cornflower-blue eyes, usually encased behind glasses. One pair of cynical green eyes. Blue like a sunrise, usually flirtatious but now empty. Gold eyes that normally were closed tight. And the brown eyes of the child he'd raised.
He did throw up then, unsocketed eyes falling to the ground, where the murderer caught them and put them in his pocket and laughed. "Now you." He started forwards, twirling a knife. China pressed against the corpses, sending more tumbling down on him. The knife traced his eyelid as he trembled in paralyzing fear. As the pressure started, China came to his senses, shoving corpses at the murderer and running for his life.
"China? Are you okay?" Japan was gently shaking the other nation. China's eyes snapped open. Sweat was beaded on his forehead, and his terror-filled heart was beating like a jackhammer. He looked up, gold eyes wild and fearful, and then drowning with relief.
" Nǐ méi yǒu sǐ… Nǐ yǒu yǎnjīng…" You aren't dead. You still have your eyes. He raised his hand and brushed it over his brother's eyelids. Japan gave him the look he normally reserved for the western nations' antics. "Are you all right?"
China was shivering, very slightly, the way Latvia did when Russia was talking to him. "Bù! Wo bù hao…"No! I'm not good… "The nightmares," he gasped, finally in English again. "I hate them, they're everywhere, aru." His eyes flitted around the room and settled. His pulse, which had been slowing, shot up again.
Because the murderer was there, curled up lonely in the corner. Nobody here that wasn't afraid of him.
Russia. The murderer. Interchangeable. One bleeding and laughing, the other hiding away.
China staggered to his feet, the blood roaring in his ears. He stabbed a finger at Russia, who looked at him uncomprehendingly. "Nǐ!" He spat, mixing Chinese and English in an unwieldy twist of languages. "Nǐ! Stay away from wǒ de jia! Stay away from wǒ de dìdì!"
Russia buried his face in his knees, not knowing what he'd done wrong. Extreme stress, like this, made him sometimes more child-like. In the darkness he created, there were the outlines of burning sunflowers, and he opened his eyes again with a gasp.
China was still yelling. "DON'T COME NEAR MY FAMILY! LEAVE US ALONE, ARU!" His pulse resounded in his ears, and it was harder to breathe. Calmer now, but only slightly, he said "Please, don't kill them, aru. Bù yao sha wǒ de jia rén."
He opened his mouth to say something else but something in his body went pop – and like a puppet whose strings had been cut, he fell into a peaceful darkness that embraced him.
Russia did not understand. He'd done nothing, had not even spoken to China here, and yet he was being screamed at. He felt like a child who'd been falsely accused of some heinous crime. "Не понимаю," he whispered. I don't understand.
Japan rushed to his older brother's side, feeling frantically for a pulse. He fumbled nervously at the wrist for the longest time, and then the tension went out of him with a whoosh.
"What was that all about? Has China gone round the bend or what?" asked America bluntly. Japan was at his throat in an instant. "Neither," he hissed, actually angry. The sheer fact that Japan was angry shut America up. Everyone else stared at this rare occurrence. Japan...angry? What'd happened to the world?
And then Russia screamed, not loud, more of a moan, but the emotions it carried could make it a scream, if emotions controlled the sound and not the throat. "нет…" And he began weeping nearly silently, at that moment, utterly defeated.
The other nations turned away and shifted sort of ashamedly. By silent vote, Italy was elected to try and soothe him. He'd probably be the best at it, anyway. Awkwardly, he crouched next to Russia and gingerly put his arm around the scary nation. Though right now he wasn't scary so much as…not pitiful, for he was still sort of scary, but something along those lines. In all seriousness, Italy asked, "What's wrong?"
Without lifting his head, Russia whispered, "Everything." Pause. "Burning sunflowers in all directions under a burning sky, and my sisters burning, all of them."
France, pretending not to be watching like everyone else, thought of the fun he'd once tried to have with Ukraine (before Belarus came in and nearly broke his neck), and wisely decided not to mention it.
"Everything is burning," whispered Russia, shoulders shaking. With patience Italy must've used to make Romano stop running around and screaming curses, Italy rubbed his hand in soothing circles on the other nation's back, feeling very strange.
"спасибо." said Russia uncomfortably, wishing he didn't just show a weakness. It could be used in war, and exploited. But now, having at least one person pretend to like him, it made him feel better. He looked up. His face was clear, but slightly fragile-seeming, as if it were a reflection in a puddle. "You can go now."
Italy stood up. There was an uneasy silence now, until Japan started talking to America about making a plan to get out. France joined in.
"We need to get out of here." America's voice was tense.
"No, really?" said France sarcastically, gingerly prodding a burn on his leg where, in the throes of the nightmare, he'd blundered into the electrified bars.
"How?" asked Japan, more practically. "We're probably in space, and if not, we're really high up in the atmosphere, leading to a long fall if we don't have anything to catch us.
"We have snow!" said Russia, seemingly back to his usual cheery self. "You don't need a parachute if you have snow!"
"You broke your back," said England critically.
"So? Is there a problem with breaking backs? I'd rather break my back and get out of here." That brought a somber mood over the nations.
Japan continued. "The aliens hate us, there are no doors to this room, and the bars in our cells are electrified, as you all know." He counted off the points on his fingers. "The aliens can walk through the bars as if they're not there. I've tried touching the bars by lying on the floor as it entered, and the electricity was definitely still there." He held up a swollen-looking fingertip. Catching the looks from the other nations, he added "Believe me, I really do want to escape, but I see no way out of here at the moment."
"We could all just die," said Russia, his voice empty, cheeriness fleeing as soon as it appeared.
"What?" yelped America, startled. But Japan seemed to be considering this suggestion. "No more nightmares," he sighed, almost wistfully.
"I've only had one," said Germany, leaving Italy sleeping on the ground. "It was more than enough," whispered England.
"I've never screamed so much in my life," said Japan, his voice devoid of emotion. However, the implacable mask on his face cracked, just a little. Once again, the countries looked at him in surprise. Today was a day for Japan to spring surprises, a depth of character they'd only suspected he'd had.
"I feel the same." France's hands unconsciously went to his throat.
"Sooo, escape." America tried to shift the subject onto less morbid things.
"They must want us alive for some reason." said Germany roughly. "Otherwise they would've killed us at the building.
"Maybe we're ransom," suggested England in his whispering voice.
"What do we have that they don't?" mused France. "Money? Resources? Gorgeous people?" They shared a tired smile at the old joke.
"I wish we could contact the others," sighed Japan. "Maybe they know what is going on. Does anyone have a phone?"
The assembled nations searched their pockets. Japan patted down China, and Germany rifled through Italy's pockets.
"They must've taken them." America looked downcast. "Now what?"
Germany frowned. "I'm trying to remember something…it feels important…" The others stared at him, but he waved them off. "Forget it. It's probably not important anyway."
Italy sat up suddenly, beaming. "Have you all come up with a genius plan for us to escape?"
"Ah- no," said Germany. "But we're working on it." The other nations nodded vigorously, pasting smiles onto their faces.
"Yayy!" cheered Italy. "With you people all thinking, we'll be out of here in no time!" He promptly flopped back down, apparently asleep.
"I'm glad you have faith in us." said Japan gravely.
"My little brother is sometimes like a little child," sighed France, meaning Italy. "Always looking on the bright side, always trusting us to save him."
"Mostly me, saving him," muttered Germany.
"We can't go die and just leave him here." France finished.
"No," agreed Japan.
Russia murmured something that sounded like "Wouldn't matter to me, I'm just the big, bad, scary nation. I'll make no promises."
America said, ignoring him, "So, we have to all get through this. If not for ourselves and for the people back at home, then for Italy."
"Everyone likes Italy, don't they?" said England, and then coughed. "But sure, I'll stay around for him."
As one, they all looked over at Italy, sprawled out snoring on the ground, and then looked at each other. "But," noted America, "If we're going to all stay alive, we need something to live for."
"Like escape." finished Germany. America looked from face to face. "Do we all solemnly swear to try anything to escape together?"
Russia pushed to his feet. "Da, I can swear to that"
"Same here." France put out his hand.
"For once, I agree with the frog." England also extended his hand.
"I'm the hero! Of course I can!" America added his hand to the pile.
"That is reasonable." Germany offered his hand as well.
"Me too, and I also vouch for China." Last but not least, Japan's hand topped the pile.
"Now what?" ventured France.
In answer, a fine dusting of powder floated down from the ceiling.
"DON'T BREATHE!" bellowed America. "IT'S KNOCKOUT POWDER!" He pulled the neck of his jacket over the bottom half of his face.
"This stuff fell earlier, didn't it?" asked Japan, removing his hands from his ears.
"Ja." Germany confirmed. "It only knocked us out."
"Maybe some of us could try and stay awake. Y'know, pretend, so when the buggers transport us out of here we could do something, get off this bloody ship." England's whisper was eager through the muffle of the tie he'd wrapped around his mouth.
"Sounds good," said Russia, his scarf around his face. "But don't make me stay awake, they hate me enough already." Fear flickered in his eyes. "My life will be hell. You can do it yourself, da?"
"All right," allowed Germany. "So not you."
They were all coated in powder by now, piling up on their heads and shoulders like snow.
Japan yawned. "I don't think I could do it…" He slowly sank down and was asleep.
"You can be the hero again, right America?" asked Germany. "I mean, I could try, but I'm also getting strangely tired…" His eyelids flicked down and back up.
"Yeah, I can do it. My jacket is thicker than all of your stuff." Also, it still smells like hamburgers from the time I smuggled fifty into a meeting, he added silently. What I wouldn't give for a hamburger now. Or ten.
He peered out of his jacket to see Germany sink down. France and Russia were already unconscious, accumulating piles of powder. Italy and China were barely visible.
England suppressed a yawn. "Y-you can do this, right, America? You're the hero, anyway…" and then he too was asleep.
America pretended to fall –well, really fell and pretended to be unconscious, sending up a plume of powder. He closed his eyes almost all the way, peering through his lashes at the world around him.
There was a barely audible hiss, and the powder stopped falling. Then, there were the muted clicks of clawed feet through a thick layer of powder as the aliens melted through the walls, silent as ghosts.
There were eight aliens in the room, one for each. America watched the one near Germany. It knelt, and held one hand above the nation's face for a moment before throwing the body over its shoulder, the scorpion tail coiled in such a way that if the nation so much as sneezed, the poison would work back into his system.
He recognized the big brute that originally stung Russia. It looked as if it wanted to sever the nation's spinal cord, but just satisfied itself with reopening the scabbed-over sting so the tan coat stained darker. Then the alien sheathed those prominent claws and threw him carelessly over a shoulder.
Then he closed his eyes tight as an alien came over to him and pulled the jacket over his head. He tried to look asleep despite the rush of adrenaline in his veins. Holding his breath and trying to look natural and unconscious was hard. The alien held its hand over his face and then jerked in surprise. America's mind raced. Had he been found out?
Well, I'd better do something then, he thought. I am the hero, after all. At the same time, he remembered the utterly inhuman voice of the alien, and the scratchy writing on the screen.
You will never be the hero.
His eyes flew open, almost grateful for the distraction from his melancholy thoughts, at a cold touch on his face. The alien was holding a clear vile that wafted the same sickly-sweet smell of the powder, patiently waiting for America to breathe it in.
And with a start, he realized that his lungs were bursting. He wouldn't hold out much longer.
He felt sinking despair. DO SOMETHING, clamored the States in his head. Get up! Do something!
Spurred on, he kicked out at the aliens, spilling the liquid away from his face and knocking the creature over. He sprang to his feet to avoid a startled swipe, running to the walls and banging on them in the hopes that something, anything would happen. He pulled jacket he'd heroically grabbed over his face.
A claw punctured the fabric and tore it away from him and America, who'd been taking a much-needed breath of clean air, found his nose full of the scent of overripe oranges, and his brain was shutting down. Slowly, he slid to the floor, Texas falling off his face and being captured by one clumsy hand.
The aliens further hastened his expedition to unconsciousness by helpfully whacking the base of his skull with a claw. Blackness dripped down his vision until all the light was gone.
There was a pinpoint not too long after, blue and green and a smear of sky and an upset person, all bent up like crumpled paper. There was faded amber-colored light, and a box of hand-painted wooden soldiers. Snippets of an excited voice; "Look! They all have different faces!" And a suit, well made, but formal and itchy and hot. And then the battle, and England all crumpled up again, sobbing in the mud. The memory tilted off towards the nightmare side, but the darkness faded.
A million things crammed into his head that he might say, and finally, one sad little sentence.
And after that, the long years of luxuriating in freedom and growth and expansion and building up and becoming great, with a government full of idiots like any civilized country.
And always the ever-present loneliness, just a sliver of it, when he could convince himself that there really was that little.
Because everyone misses their family.
And just like that, America jerked awake, back in the cell in the hall once again.
He lay there for a long while before moving.
Another fabulous A/N! : I must say, it was actually a lot harder than I thought to make Russia all OOC like that with only one nightmare, but a nightmare like that would scare the shiznits out of me too. Sorry I'm late! :3 Again I remind you kindly to review.