Burn, baby, burn!

Warning: Angst, violence, weapons, gore.

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

Ashes to Ashes

Matthew watched in shock and awe as the men scattered around him, struggling to take out their weapons, but being riddled with bullets by a murderous-looking Francis before being able to do so, or being doused with flames at the flick of Arthur's fingers and a shouted, unintelligible word.

Matthew was so struck by the odd sight (because it certainly was odd seeing Francis cranking out bullets as quick as the blink of an eye and leaving a trail of shells behind him) that the man was able to tackle him to the ground from behind.

"You won't get away, you fucker!" the man growled in his ear, and Matthew kicked and elbowed but to no avail.

Matthew thought for sure the man had him, and then he just… stopped. Matthew stared at him in confusion for a second and the man began to writhe and scream in agony. Matthew watched in horror as his attacker's face reddened, then blistered (actually bubbled for a second), and then his skin began to melt and blacken. Matthew was so appalled, that he shrieked and flung the man off of him, the smell of burning flesh making him turn and throw up all the food he had in his stomach.

When he was through (feeling a little lightheaded now), he looked up and saw Arthur staring down at him. His fingers were pointed at the man still writhing, slowly dying with a keening screech on the ground beside him.

"Sorry about that. Are you okay, lad?"

"Y-yeah. I think…"

"Then get up and run," Arthur told him before aiming his fingers at an approaching attacker and shouting, "Byrnan!"

The man before him stopped, dropped his weapon, and fell to his knees, his skin boiling. And Matthew didn't stick around to see what happened next.

He was making his way toward the field before he remembered Sadiq and turned back. He had to find him.

"You fucking dumbass Canadian!"

Someone grabbed hold of his arm and tugged him back. He tried to resist before hearing the one gripping him say, "Look at me, dammit. Do I sound like those bastards?"

Matthew did, and his heart soared. "L-Lovino?"

"Who else, idiot?" Lovino snapped, then began to tug him back toward the field. "We're here to fucking save you, and now you're trying to go back into that mindfuck? No fucking way!"

"'We're'?" Matthew parroted and looked around, not believing his eyes.

Nations were pouring out of the tall grasses like animals running from a wildfire. Ludwig was just behind Lovino, and he plunged into action without a second glance at Matthew, shooting at anyone who confronted him. He made his way toward the tents, searching for the packs the Organization men had stolen. Gilbert came rushing out next, Yao and Alfred not far behind. When Alfred and Matthew locked eyes, the American immediately headed for him…

… And nearly bowled him over with his glomp.

"Mattie!" Alfred yelled in his ear. "Don't fucking scare me like that again, bro. Seriously, oh fuck…" He squeezed Matthew hard around the middle.

Matthew pushed Alfred off of him and righted his skewed glasses. "Al… Sadiq,"

Alfred's brow furrowed as if confused by Matthew's worry. "What about 'im?"

"He's here. He was captured with me, and I can't find him."

Alfred nodded. "All right. I'll go find him—"

"I'm coming with you."

"No, Mattie. We just found you—"

"I am coming with you." Matthew snapped before racing back into the crowd with Alfred on his heels. He was shocked at how many bodies were falling around him. There had been more men than they had thought.

It felt like forever before Matthew heard Sadiq's voice and rushed over to it. He was practically ignored (which was just fine with him at the moment) and covered by Alfred, who was shooting down whoever came close.

And then he found him. There, wrestling with Seth, was Sadiq. The Turk had managed to pull Seth to the ground where he was better able to match him, as his injury would be hindering him if he stood. As Matthew got closer, Seth came out on top, sitting on Sadiq's lower back, and twisting Sadiq's arm around so that he was forced onto his stomach. Seth pressed a gun to his head.

"Sadiq!" Matthew cried.

Seth looked at him. "Stop!"

Matthew did so, and Alfred was beside him. "Mattie…?" he panted before seeing Seth aiming his gun at him.

"Put that down or I'll shoot him."

Alfred scowled and lowered his weapon.

At this point, the camp had grown silent. Alfred looked around and was astonished to see that all of the Organization men were either dead or dying, but was even more shocked to spot all of the nations there. Matthew couldn't pull his eyes away from the terrifying scene before him.

The other nations gathered around to see what was going on. Seth ignored them; he only had eyes for Alfred.

"So," he hissed. "Mr. Jones has finally decided to show himself. Did it take this much to make you lose that cowardly streak, boy?"

Alfred growled, "Heroes are not cowards. Stand down."

Seth laughed. "A load of bullshit if I ever heard some. Come now, your friend is in danger. You should really be more willing to cooperate."

"I don't cooperate with motherfuckers like you," Alfred spat. "Let him go."

"I would change my tone if I were you, kid," Seth said, pressing the barrel of his handgun further into Sadiq's temple through his hood. "You wouldn't want anyone else killed for your wussy ass, or is that the way you do it now?"

Alfred clenched his jaw. "Shut up!"

"Oh, have I struck a nerve?" Seth laughed again. "The Organization is right about you. Someone like you should have never been a country. Not some young, cocky-ass pussy like you. No wonder our economy went down the shitter."

"And you think of yourself as any less of a bastard by killing innocent people?"

"Innocent?" Seth laughed aloud at this. "Boy, no one is innocent anymore."

It was a good thing Alfred was furious, because he was causing enough of a distraction for Arthur to try and break down the walls surrounding Seth's mind, which really wasn't very hard. Though, Arthur had to admit, it would be a great deal easier if he was as strong as he was before. He was feeling a little weak from all the magic he had been using today. But that barely worried him as he let the tendrils of his mind push against Seth's barriers. There weren't many—which was common in non-magic users. But he was as stubborn as all hell.

The recent battle made it hard for Arthur to focus; he was so hyped up on adrenaline that it took a lot of energy just to stretch his consciousness over to the man. And still Alfred and Seth went on arguing.

"How about an exchange, boy? Him for you. I could care less about this guy, but you are who I really want."

"I'll go to the Organization on my own terms," Alfred growled. "No way, I'm letting you drag me in."

Sadiq was seriously starting to worry now. Alfred wasn't exactly good with negotiations—as proven by his many enemies and mishaps in the past. At the moment, he wasn't quite so sure he'd get out of this one alive.

Seth shrugged. "Fine. If I can't convince you, then I might as well shoot him. I don't care if I don't have any leverage then. You can kill me if you want. They will find you. They know where you are now. Nowhere is safe. And when they do find you, you'll be sorry you ever dared to live this long." Seth cocked his gun.

"Sadiq!" Matthew cried.

Sadiq closed his eyes, ready to be done. But Seth was taking an unusually long time to shoot him. Was the fucker trying to play with him? He moved his head slightly, then decided to hell with it and moved however he fucking wanted until he was looking into Seth's blank stare.

Arthur had seized hold of his mind, jabbing at it until it was subdued and wrapping his consciousness around it so that it could not escape, could not function. "Alfred," he said, his eyes closed and his voice straining with the energy it took to restrain the man. "Shoot him. Quickly."

"Non," Francis said, coming forward. "I will do the honor." And he walked over to the paralyzed Seth, deciding that he didn't want to shoot him.

He wanted to see his brains smeared across the dirt.

So he used the butt of his gun to crush Seth's skull in from behind. Blood poured from the wound and Francis kept hitting him, pounding into his skull until it was concave at one end and brain matter spilled at his feet. And all the while this was happening Seth was forced to sit upright by Arthur who wanted Francis to have a good aim so it would all end as quickly as possible and Sadiq lay below him, covering his face as blood and brain spurted down onto him.

When it was done, Francis stood over the man, his breathing ragged, staring at the damage he'd caused. Yeah. He supposed that was pretty good compensation to what the other members of his Organization had done to him and had tried to do to Matthew. Blood was splattered on his arms, chest, and face but he didn't care. Seth was dead, and everyone was safe.

Only when Arthur felt no presence of energy in Seth whatsoever did he let go and retreat back into his own mind, Seth dropping to the ground with a heavy thud. When Arthur finally did return to himself, all the hurt and fear that Seth had endured before he died rushed into his own head. The experience surprised him and incapacitated him for a second. Normally he'd be strong enough to block these mental scars. But now he wasn't and it took a minute or so for him to recover. He swayed a bit.

"Are you okay, Arthur?"

Arthur opened his eyes and blinked before steadying himself. He held his head. "Yes… yes, I'm fine, Francis."

Everyone was silent as Francis rejoined the group. Blood was dripping from the butt of his gun, and Feliciano was crying. Alfred once again looked around to make sure everyone was there. Ivan caught his eye, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Though there was something about the Russian's posture that suggested something was off. Worry clouded his mind. Ivan wasn't easily hurt.

"It is done," Ludwig said, anxious to get moving for Feliciano's sake. The man was sobbing beside him from all the scary bloodshed that had gone on and he didn't want the Italian to be scarred by this, though he may well be scarred by many things already. "Let's go."

No one talked. Matthew rushed forward to help Sadiq up, asking if he was okay, but that was pretty much it with the dialogue. Alfred helped support the Turk as they headed off, eager to go around the field and be on their way. Arthur sighed with the prominent silence again. They had just learned how to speak to each other about their problems, but now… now they had slipped a few good paces behind. They would have to start all over, learn how to talk again.

The gunshot split Arthur's thoughts, and he nearly stumbled with the suddenness of it. He looked around to see if anyone had been hurt. Kiku was staring at the hills around the field and shouted, "More! There are more of them!"

"More?" Gilbert exclaimed with exasperation. "They just keep fucking coming!"

"They must have been out hunting or scouting or something." Matthew bounced ideas off of Alfred as they took off for the field again. If there was any other place Alfred would be right now, it would not be in the field. It only made him feel trapped again, not any safer. But it was the only thing to hide in for miles. He had no choice.

But Arthur did. He was fed up with this shit. All of this running around and looking over their shoulders. Being hunted down like prized game. What had been done to Francis, Matthew, Sadiq, and no doubt many others…

Rage filled him, and that gave Arthur ample enough power to summon his magical strength to form a formidable spell. He was tired of being the leader of the group and not being able to do a damn thing when someone was kidnapped or hurt. Now, though, he was going to stop it.

When Francis saw Arthur stop, he skidded to an abrupt halt. "Arthur, what are you doing? Run!"

"Stay back, Francis!" Arthur warned as bullets whizzed by him close enough for him to feel the deadly path they made through the air.

Francis didn't know what made him stay back, but the tone in Arthur's voice was like nothing he had ever heard. So he stayed where he was, and the other nations stopped as well, watching.

Arthur took a deep breath, gathering his energy at his core and focusing it out through his hands which he held, outstretched, to those men now running down from the hills and to the edge of the field to confront him. But he wouldn't let them get that far.

"Byrnan eall!"

The words seemed to explode from him, and power burned from his stomach through his arms and out of his hands. Within moments, the whole field before him was dancing with flames that soared eight feet tall and the Organization men were falling to their knees, their pained voices piercing the air as they were slowly burned alive.

For a moment, Arthur watched in wonder. He had done grander things, yes, but the gratification that came with doing something when they had been so desperate topped century upon century of magical feats.

Arthur would have loved to move. The flames were getting a bit too close for his liking. He could feel his eyebrows singeing. Sounds became far away to him, morphed as if muffled. He was vaguely aware of the raging heat surrounding him and the sharp pains shooting up from his hands before he felt as light as air, his legs like jelly, and he fell backward into the dry, burning grass.

The last thing he saw was red fire licking toward him. Then all he could see was black.

Translations:

Byrnan eall--Burn all

A Word From the Writer: Holy fuck, things heated up fast. Guess it got too hot for the Organization guys and their heels were smoking as they got the hell out of that hot mess. Then again, England's a pretty hot guy with quite a boiling temper. /end of puns. Ahem, so we see here the wild England in its prime element, that being fire, because he's a fucking badass and it was really the only element I could find cool-sounding Anglo-Saxon words to go with. Now, I'm not Tolkien (as much as I wish I were) so I'm not an expert in Anglo-Saxon and I just looked up some dictionary online. It felt really shady, so I only included a couple of words. And I know Anglo-Saxon is Germanic but I thought it would be more to England's nature to use words from a language widely spoken on his isle before France came in and contributed to it. He don't need no fancy French-Latin words to work his magic. /just kidding, official end of puns.

So England went berserk and, unfortunately, he forgot that he was mortal and since magic requires energy the whole time one uses it, it sapped his strength to the point of unconsciousness... or worse. The basic mechanics of it is inspired by Christopher Paolini's rendition of magic, which is particularly scientific and that I greatly admire. Although it may not have been Paolini's original idea, his were the only books I've ever read to expand so thoroughly on magic. But, unfortunately, England does not have a dragon. I know, I know, it would be awesome. And named Smaug (because, fuck yes, England could totally have tamed him).

See you next Sunday! X3