Prepare for tension overload.

Warning: Angst, fight scene, weapons, insults from both America and Russia to each other, tension, threats, violence. You know, some actual, action-y stuff.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I have fun manipulating their characters, though

Against the Clock II

Alfred watched Arthur go, a lump forming in his throat as his brother disappeared off the crest of the hill. He quickly swallowed the feeling, looking up the slide as the others slid down and bounced off the end to stand beside him.

Ivan came down first, naturally, not to be outdone by his rival. He stood a few feet from Alfred, a step ahead of him, as if proving he was bolder. Alfred saw at a glance that Ivan had his pipe in hand. He turned to him, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Ivan sensed he was being watched and, without bothering to look at him, said, "Is something bothering you, comrade?"

"Yeah," Alfred replied. "Why not your gun?" Then Alfred frowned. "And don't call me 'comrade.'"

"You never think ahead." Ivan shook his head as the others slid down and joined them. "Bullets… I'd rather not waste them where we're going."

Alfred scoffed. "You just like to bash people's heads in and watch the blood splatter."

Ivan sighed. "Why am I always such a monster in your eyes?"

"Because that's what you are." Alfred replied coldly, cocking his handgun. "And I know how you are. I've been your rival for years, remember that."

"Please don't start a fight, Al. Not now." Matthew said, his rifle held tightly in his hands. "We need to focus. Be ready."

Alfred heaved a sigh and said, "Fine. But if that asshole decides to snipe at me one more time, I won't hesitate to confront him."

Ivan chuckled and Alfred started. Damn, the dude really did have the ears of a fox. "You may confront me whenever you please, Amerika. I can assure you that I am more than ready."

Matthew shook his head. "Not you too, Russia. Please don't be argumentative. Now is not the time."

Kiku nodded in agreement. "Yes, America-san. If England-san finds you two fighting, he will lecture you for hours."

They all groaned. All of them at some point in their lives had heard one of Arthur's infamous disciplinary rants. Sometimes they even went on for a couple of days.

"Agreed," Ludwig said, cocking his gun as well. Feliciano was standing beside him, shivering, gripping the German's hard shoulder with panic. "In order to survive, we need to work together. That means we must forget our differences." He broke off to murmur some comforting words to Feliciano.

Matthew stepped forward, daring to stand between Alfred and Ivan, saying, "Right, we're a team now. One for all and one for… pasta." He struggled to hold in a laugh.

Feliciano straightened up. "Pasta~!"

Alfred laughed under his breath. "Yeah, for pasta."

Ivan took out a flask from his coat and took a long swig from it. Alfred stared at him. "Can you aim well when you're drunk?"

Ivan chuckled as he put away the flask. "I don't get drunk." Then he quirked a smile. "But then again you're the one to know my aim is always good."

Ludwig suddenly pried Feliciano off his arm and pushed the Italian behind him, aiming his gun. "They're coming,"

Ivan shifted slowly, not bothering to raise his pipe. "I know. I've been listening to them."

Alfred scoffed. "That's totally creepy, dude." And he raised his handgun. "Time to take these bastards down. They'll learn that they can't just use force to get what is already someone else's."

Ivan chuckled darkly. "Like country like citizens."

Alfred was about to make a scathing remarked when Matthew hissed, "Shh, you two!" and stepped forward to stand beside his brother, raising his rifle. He was surprised that everyone noticed him. "Focus, Al."

"I am, I am already, damn!" He glared daggers at Ivan and the Russian smiled amiably back at him.

"Ve… G-Germany?"

"Ja, Veneziano?"

"We're going to be leaving soon, right?"

"We'll see,"

Alfred's brow wrinkled. "Kiku?"

"Yes, America-san?"

"Are you sure you'll be all right with just your sword? This ain't like your old feudal days."

"Of course, America-san."

"And don't call me America-san, Kiku. There really is no need for formalities in this shithole world."

"It is my tradition, America-san."

"Whatever, just watch yourself, okay?"

Kiku said nothing else, his eyes never leaving the approaching crowd.

The mob was about ten yards away and closing. Many of them were taking out their guns and starting to aim. The first man took aim directly at Alfred, but was quickly shot down. Alfred's ears rang as he turned to see Matthew cocking his rifle again, a fresh shell still smoking at his feet.

"Get them before they get us…" the Canadian muttered, taking aim again and shooting down a man who was a fair distance away.

Ludwig began firing not long after, and Alfred quickly followed suit. Alfred focused on those in the front of the mob, shooting them down easily so that the others behind them stumbled over their bodies. Without having to be told, Ludwig took the left front while Alfred took the right. Matthew, meanwhile, took out all the ones in the back that looked as if their aim would prove true.

Finally, the few people that had managed to avoid any bullets—some had bits of scrap metal to protect themselves—or had survived the blows staggered forward, pulling out their weapons. One limped right toward Ivan, pausing just a few feet from him, raising a loaded semi-automatic. Alfred watched the man carefully out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to admit to himself that he would cover the Russian if need be. But that possibility was not likely. That man's got some balls for taking on Russia… he thought. He even had to admit that Ivan was a little scary.

But only a little.

As soon as the wounded man took aim, his finger twitching on the trigger, Ivan lunged forward, raising his pipe, the metal whistling through the air as it came down hard on the man's head, crushing his skull. Alfred watched with disbelief as blood shot from the man's nose and mouth and he crumpled to the ground. Ivan caught his eye, but quickly directed his attention to the approaching people.

As many times as Ivan had hit anybody with his pipe—Alfred included—he had never hit that hard. And seeing as only countries could kill each other, that was a good thing… But he's still a monster. he thought grudgingly.

Alfred came to a sudden realization, but was brought back to reality by his brother nudging him in the ribs. "In front of you!"

"What?"

The man in front of him fired, and Alfred stepped to the side, hearing the bullet whiz by his head. Tembling a bit in shock, Alfred raised his own gun and shot the man through the head.

As with every kill he made, he knew he was shooting his own people down and it made him feel dizzy. Even though he knew he couldn't help the fact that they hated him, that didn't make gunning them down like wild animals any better.

Alfred had been so lost in his own thoughts, that he didn't notice that the full force of the mob had swept through them. He looked beside him, but Matthew was no longer there. Instead, his brother was standing on a boulder above the crowd a few yards away, shooting down anyone who came near him. Ludwig, meanwhile, had escorted Feliciano to the boulder on which Matthew was standing, and told him to climb on. The Italian did so, and Ludwig proceeded to turn around and defend the boulder along with Matthew. Kiku had disappeared in the mob, and Alfred's heart pounded as he looked around and found no trace of him. But when he spotted people flying backward from one area in the mob and blood shooting through the air like that of the cuts from a blade, Alfred knew he was alive and well. He watched as Kiku darted through the crowd, barely able to see him, but knowing where he was by the amounts of people that were slashed down in several areas.

And then there was Ivan… surely he had gone deeper into the crowd to bash more heads in for his own enjoyment? But Alfred was surprised to find that the Russian was still beside him, and had in fact moved a few feet toward him.

Alfred shot down a couple of people that were getting a little too close for comfort before looking curiously at him. Ivan noticed, and looked at him too before smacking a few more people down with his pipe and walking over.

"Coping well, comrade?" He smiled, his face and coat splattered with blood.

"Why would you care?"

"Why do you act so cold toward me? Our fight is over."

"Doesn't matter," Alfred snorted, shooting down a couple more people, his heart giving a painful lurch in the process. "I don't need your concern. You couldn't give two shits if I lived or died. Actually, I'm betting you'd celebrate if I was killed."

Ivan chuckled, shaking his head. Alfred growled as he downed another shooter. "What's so funny, bastard?"

"You're just so immature."

"What did you call me?"

"It's true," Ivan said, not minding to acknowledge the murderous glare Alfred was giving him. "You never forget past rivalries. Isn't that why you have so many enemies, Amerika? Maybe that's why you're having to shoot your own people down and suffer for every citizen you kill."

"Shut up, asshole."

"You know it's true. And I know what you're feeling. I've gone through it too. That's why I chose to die and not suppress my people's wishes by shooting them down like common criminals in the process, but, alas, I was brought here to endure your endless good company."

"You don't know me."

"I do. And you're selfish for not allowing your country to have a rebirth, for not dying with it, as your people wish, like the democracy you claim you have. If it weren't for me being captured and stuck on a plane bound for here, I would have let it happen." He turned to slam his pipe into the face of another approaching civilian, the man's face streaming with blood from his broken nose.

Alfred pointed his gun to the side of Ivan's head, cocking it. "Don't ever compare me to your vicious, tyrant ass ever again."

"And what would you do?" Ivan asked calmly, smiling, taking down another attacker with ease, as if having a gun pointed to his head was something that happened daily. "Would you kill me? You could. You could have chosen to do that very thing years ago when you came to gloat. But you didn't." He turned to look at Alfred, his violet eyes dark, the barrel of the gun still digging into his skull. "You need me, Amerika. That's what you've never been able to admit. And now I know why you do."

Alfred glared at him, determined not to blink, waiting for his answer. But Ivan simply turned around with an empty expression and continued to whack at incomers like they had not just had a very tense conversation. Confused and angry as hell, Alfred returned to shooting, his frustration chasing out his pain.

Kiku showed up at his side quicker than he could blink, peering up at him, his katana dripping with fresh blood, his face freckled with it. "America-san, the plane is secure. The rest are retreating."

So caught up in his rage, Alfred hadn't noticed that the hill was nearly empty. The survivors had clambered down, running back to the city, the others that remained were either injured or out-of-their-minds crazy. One man came running at Ludwig and was promptly shot through the head, stumbling back and collapsing to the ground in a piled heap. Behind him on the boulder, Feliciano whimpered and started crying hysterically. Matthew was trying to console him.

"Is good," Ivan said, examining the plane and the corpse-littered ground. "Let's keep a lookout for the rest, da?"

Everyone nodded except for Alfred, who was still angry about his fight with Ivan. "Already on it."

Ivan didn't bother to look at him, but his creepy, childlike smile had returned. He looked down, smashing his pipe onto the head of a still-moving body. "Very wise of you to take my advice, Amerika."

Alfred wanted to say more, but Kiku shook his head beside him. So, he resigned himself to sitting on the crest of the hill, eyes scanning the city, sitting as far away from Ivan as possible and trying not to think about what he had said. Yeah, right, the bastard knew him…

"Al?" Matthew asked. Alfred looked behind him where his brother had seated himself, rifle in his lap. "Are you okay? You have that look."

Alfred snorted. "What look, bro? I'm fine!"

Matthew's frown deepened. "That look you always have when you can't figure something out, when something's bothering you."

Alfred sighed. "Yeah, I'm worried about Iggy." he lied, though it was only a half-sided one.

Matthew raised an eyebrow, knowing there was more to it, but deciding it would be too much at the moment to go any further. Instead, he directed his attention to Ludwig, who was now trying to calm Feliciano down just a few yards away on the grass. "I am too. How the hell are we supposed to get out of here if he doesn't get that truck up the hill?"

"I dunno," Alfred huffed, wanting so much to light up a cigarette at the moment for his anxiety. His old addiction was catching up with him. "I just hope he gets here soon."

"Look!" Kiku's voice rang out from behind them, and they all turned to see him standing on the boulder, pointing. "The truck! Look, there!"

They turned and Alfred felt his heart lurch.

On the runway, very, very far away it seemed, sat the truck. A few people were seated in the back. A mob had surrounded it, but the vehicle still remained stationary.

Alfred quickly stood and called, "Arthur!" and ran forward, intending to run down the hill and help, but someone grabbed a tight hold of his arm and stopped him. Confused at how someone else could hold him back—as the only one who was as strong as him was Ivan—he peered back. Matthew looked desperately up at him, shaking his head quickly.

"No, Al, please stay here." Alfred was about to reply, but Matthew raised his rifle and pointed it at his leg. Alfred looked, horrified, at his twin. "If you don't stay," Matthew continued boldly, his voice trembling a bit. "I won't hesitate to hobble you. It won't kill you, but at least then I know you'll be safe."

Alfred continued to stare disbelievingly at him, then looked back at the runway. The truck had still not moved. He yanked his arm out of Matthew's grip, feeling betrayed. Matthew tried to say something, but Alfred growled, "Don't. I'll stay." Then he went silent, watching, hoping, praying that somehow Arthur and the others would make it out unharmed.

But then again, assessing the situation from where he could see it, that was slim chance.

He gasped, squinting his eyes, watching with horror as someone jumped out of the back of the truck and began fighting their way through the mob. Please don't be Artie. he thought desperately.

No translations

A Word From the Writer: Muhahaha, looking for that next button? Too bad! Another cliffhanger! I'm sorry, but I'm really trying to pace myself, because my last fic I kinda slacked off and the chapters caught up with me and it was a lot of pressure to write a chapter in a week with everything going on with life and shit so... yeah, that was a lot of and's, but what the hell, you get it. XD