Wow… I really have no system when it comes to update dates. Sorry ^.^*
Though Ludwig had done his best, the training session had ended without any great losses. The brave recruits had survived the living hell on earth against all odds. Though heavily bruised and sore, they were all able to walk away from the nightmare when the long awaited lunchtime arrived. Well, all except for Mathias, but he hadn't been able to walk when he arrived either, so it didn't count.
After a quick shower, the comrades went out in hunt of some decent food. Kiku had wandered off on his own, with the excuse that he needed to lie down. No one blamed him, since he obviously had a hard time with all the awesome noise they were making. The only problem was, that with Kiku gone off on his own, poor innocent Feliciano was left at the mercy of agent Jones and his team. Said team was currently discussing where to buy their dinner. Loudly.
"There is nothing wrong with McD!" Alfred cried angrily, as they turned a corner, and began walking down the street, where most of the city's restaurants and eating-places were located. "There's meat, bread, and you can even buy a salad, for goods sake. That's the whole food pyramid if you haven't noticed!"
"I'm not eating at your disgusting grease pit Alfred!" Mathias snapped back. This was an argument they had at least three times a week. They never reached an agreement though. "Some of us are actually trying to stay in shape, if you hadn't noticed. And it's not a freaking salad if the main ingredient is freaking dressing!"
"So where do you suggest we eat, Mister I'm-to-good-for-good-old-American-cuisine?" The American shrieked, gaining a few weird looks from people passing by.
"I thought you'd never ask!" Mathias exclaimed, and flung his arms at a newly opened cafeteria. It had a big, freshly painted sign, which read the word "SMØRREBRØD" in bright red letters. "This, my American friend, is real cuisine. Crisp, dark, healthy bread, topped with good old Danish classics, like leverpostej, medister, or pickled herring, all accompanied by real vegetables!"
A mad smile spread across the Dane's face, as he looked at the cafeteria in complete awe, imagining all the wonders of the small Danish shop. His two friends just rolled their eyes, and let him enjoy his little moment. About twenty seconds later, he was still standing in the middle of the street, looking like a maniac. Gilbert and Alfred silently agreed that enough was enough, grabbed their friend by the shoulders, and started dragging him along.
"If we're done acting like idiots, I suggest we eat at the würst-house around the corner." Gilbert said, as they dragged the protesting Dane down the street. He was shouting a bunch of insults in Danish that neither of them could understand. "Even Feliciano can tell that German food is much better than either of your suggestions. Right, Feliciano?"
No one answered.
"Feliciano…?" the albino asked again, still receiving no answer.
Gilbert suddenly stopped as a realization hit him. The two others stopped too, and looked at Gilbert in alarm, as a horrified look spread across his face.
"Guys," the albino slowly said, "Is it just me… or has Feliciano been completely… silent… for about fifteen minutes?"
The look on the other two's faces turned from alarm to complete horror, as they realized how just how wrong everything about that sentence sounded.
The trio slowly turned around. Right in front of them, in the middle of the street, exactly where Feliciano had been was… nothing.
They had lost Feliciano.
Ludwig walked down the halls of headquarters with long, firm steps. To others it looked like he was in a hurry, but that wasn't the case. This was just his normal way of walking. No big deal. He had just finished a meeting with Kirkland, and he wasn't in the mood for slow-walking. He was just going to grab some lunch, and then go check on the four airheads. Oh, and Kiku too. He wondered if they were okay, since all of them had turned out to be in terrible shape. Seriously, did this base not have any kind of training program before he got here? Oh, and speaking of Kiku, wasn't that him lurking around up ahead?
"Private Honda?" Ludwig called out in his strict sergeant voice (yes, he had such a thing as a strict sergeant voice) "What are you doing here? This part of headquarters are only permitted for those with rank of special agent, or higher."
"A-ah Beilschmidt-san!" Kiku said, and bowed, "I-I am so sorry sir! I am afraid I am lost."
"Well, the cafeteria's that way." Ludwig said, and pointed down the hallway opposite of the one Kiku had been walking down. Kiku thanked him and turned to leave.
"Oh, by the way, do you know where Private Vargas are?" Ludwig asked. He was a little concerned that Feliciano was causing some kind of trouble somewhere that could get him kicked out.
"Oh, I believe he followed your brother and his friends out to find some lunch. Why?" Kiku stopped and looked back at Ludwig with concern. The sergeant had stopped in the middle of a step, and his face had gone considerably pale.
"W-was did you just say?" Ludwig gasped.
"Well, I said that Feliciano-san is with your brother, and-"
"SCHEIßE!" Ludwig raged, and stomped down the hallway to find Feliciano before it was too late.
The German raced out of sight, leaving a very confused Kiku in the middle of the hall.
"…I will never understand westerings…"
"SHIT!" Gilbert shouted as they rushed down the street. "SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!"
"Shut UP, Gilbert!" Alfred yelled back, his mind racing to find a way to fix this…well, shit. They had been forced to leave Mathias at the weird-Danish-bread shop, since he wasn't able to run fast enough with his bad leg. He hadn't been too upset about it though…
"How could we lose Feliciano? He's like a human hurricane of sound!" Gilbert cried out, as he jumped over a garbage can that happened to stand in the way. "Lutz is going to kill me!"
Alfred was just about to tell Gilbert that Ludwig wasn't going to murder anybody, when he spotted something up ahead. He reacted quickly, by grabbing a firm hold of Gilberts arm clasping a hand over his mouth to stop him from complaining, and swiftly pulled him behind a big dumpster. He only let go of his kicking friend, after he was completely sure they couldn't be seen from the street.
Gilbert started objecting, but was quickly shushed by Alfred.
"Gilbert," He whispered in a serious tone, "I need you to be quiet, okay?"
Gilbert was alarmed at Alfred's tone of voice, and slowly nodded.
"Okay, you remember those henchmen that always follows the commie around?" Alfred whispered, and peered out unto the street. "One of them is out there. Right. Now."
"What!?" Gilbert hissed, and went to peer out at the street too. After skimming the crowd, he recognized a tall man with brown hair as Ivan Braginski's second in command. What was his name…Tony? Terry? Nah, he couldn't remember. But what was he doing here?
Alfred was having very similar thoughts, when his phone started vibrating. He quickly pulled it out of his pocket to look at the message. It was from Mathias;
Hey
Did you find Feli yet? I think you should hurry, 'cause I just spotted one of those commie henchmen.
Alfred quickly replied that they hadn't found Feliciano, and that they had seen a henchman too. While Alfred typed, Gilbert watched Toris. They were both so captivated with their tasks, that they didn't even notice the threatening shadow creeping up on them. Not before it was too late.
"Bruder…" A voice growled just behind Gilbert, "Where. Is. Feliciano?"
Gilbert and Alfred shouted in a very manly way (they squealed like little girls), before quickly being silenced by Ludwig's giant hands being clasped over their mouths.
"So," He hissed, "Where is he?"
Smørrebrød = a Danish dish. In English it's know as an open sandwich.
Leverposteg = a Danish topping for open sandwiches. It's a type of liverpaste.
Medister = a Danish type of sausage.
So here it is. I hoped you liked it.
I have the basic plot planned, but I really need stuff to fill it with, so if you have any ideas, just tell me. Please.
I hope you enjoy your day, week, or whatever else you count time in ;)