I sense a disturbance in the Force.

Warning: Angst, violence, weapons, dangerous situation, gore, character death (who will it be this time?)

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

Lament for an Idiot

They were making their way toward the shed and, suddenly, something changed.

Arthur didn't know what, but there was a twinge and it grew in size and prominence until he could no longer ignore it. As soon as he'd entered the house, he'd put up safety wards that would indicate whether there was any sort of negative, dark thought or dangerous intent anywhere around or inside the house. He stopped and his breath caught, heart beginning to pound like a drum in his chest. He looked over and saw Ivan had stopped as well. Their eyes locked and immediately what Arthur was feeling was confirmed.

Ivan felt it too.

Before Arthur could say anything, Ludwig had reached the shed. He looked inside and everyone crowded around them. "Was?" Gilbert asked, astonished. "What the hell is this?"

A raccoon was rummaging around in the shed, crawling over the lawn mower, various gardening tools, scrambling toward some rotting animal to fill its belly. When it saw them, it turned around, blinking at them for a moment before hissing and scrambling away into the mess until its ringed tail was no longer visible.

"The house," Arthur began, the feeling of dread clenching his gut almost painfully. "There's something going on in the house!"

At this point, no one asked him any questions. They knew what Arthur sensed was very much real, and they responded by rushing to the sliding glass door only to find… it had been locked.

"Goddammit," Arthur cursed. "We're locked out!"

"Let me," Ivan said and tried to concentrate on moving the lock on the other side of the glass. But his mind was immediately met with an insurmountable wall. "Что…?" He tried again, putting everything he had into his abilities, but once again falling short. "Дерьмо!"

"You can't get it?" Arthur asked, shocked.

"Step back," Ivan warned and everybody did so, and not a second later Ivan's foot was connecting with the glass. But it didn't break and Ivan doubled over, clutching his stitched side. He was more than disturbed. He had always been able to break down any door.

"Oh God," Arthur realized. "Alfred's inside. He's still inside!"

"Who has a gun?" Francis asked, looking around. "Anyone?"

"We left all of them inside!" Ludwig came to the conclusion and swore. He knew he shouldn't have taken Jeanne's advice and packed all the weapons away just in case one accidentally went off in the cars.

"Out of the way, West!" Gilbert shouted and they all parted so that Gilbert and Yao could drive the lawn mower at the door. With their dual weight behind it, the glass bent and finally shattered. By the time they stumbled in and their eyes darted around frantically for their weapons, they were surrounded, peering down gun barrels. Jeanne stood at the head of the corral, Alfred tied, gagged, and blindfolded standing before her. Her gun was pressed to his temple.

"Now," she said, her voice holding an air of strict authority that was like a kick in the stomach. "Cooperate, or Mr. Jones dies."

"You lying bastards," Ludwig growled, and the guilt that overcame him shook his voice. He should have known.

They were trapped like rats on a ship none of them had noticed was sinking, crammed together in an effort to be shielded from the weapons pointed their way.

Jeanne rolled her eyes at that. "Oh, please. You may be more of number, but you're as dull as a flock of sheep. As soon as you see someone who can lead you, you follow without question. Or are you just too above it all to think you couldn't be so oblivious? Yes, I fed you lies. We all did. Yet all of you were too dim to realize you were being strung along. Peculiar, since you're all nations. Guess that accounts for your screw ups."

Everyone stiffened at the word 'nations.' They know. Ludwig opened his mouth to speak again, but Jeanne quickly began, "Allow me to bring you up to speed on world events. All of your governments have been eradicated, replaced by small rebel groups. But that didn't last long. The Fellowship of Man extended its seductive tendrils to the international stage, or rather what was left of it. We have managed to snag every other torn country in our web. People want hope. We give them hope. They want higher ups who listen. We indulge them." Jeanne's smile widened. "The Fellowship of Man is now operating at an international level, with major connections in London, Berlin, Sydney, Moscow, and Beijing. But the city names should be changed shortly. It's one of our requirements. Want no trace of the traitors who came before us, now would we? Allow us to introduce ourselves." Jeanne spread a welcoming arm through the air and the one closest to her, Gerald, cocked his head.

"I am a former FBI investigator who led part of the coup that killed all opposing fellow workers. Tracking down criminals like you is my specialty."

"I was a pysch patient before me and the other patients killed all the doctors that abused us," Nate said without a sign of emotion on his face. "I was classified as a psychopath… after I put a bullet in all my family's heads. Now I work as an assassin for the Fellowship."

"I am a former marine." Everyone flinched as Marvin's deep voice rumbled through them. "I was recruited by the Fellowship of Man to reveal military secrets before taking out my superiors."

The only one left was Carter, and Ludwig couldn't believe the young kid who he expected to never have held any sort of weapon in his life to glare him down with such hate and condemnation, hand on the trigger of his handgun. "I wasn't wrong about being a geek. I worked in the military as a graphic simulator, testing and cataloging 3-D generated models and their construction, how it would crumble if things went boom. The Fellowship of Man requested that I begin to build up their information system for monitoring communications—and create models for new military equipment. They gave me an offer I couldn't refuse: a job where I was important."

Their eyes fell to Jeanne, then. Jeanne, with her rounded, formally pregnant belly. Jeanne, who seemed to be leading it all. "And my sob story was true enough. I wanted to kill every Organization member I could after they took everything from me, but then the Overlord allowed me to be the first to participate in something important. Something that the Overlord sees as critical to our dominance and the continuance of our race. And I took it." She sighed wearily. "However, he said that some little bugs were disrupting his progress. I, naturally, was more than willing to squash them. He said that an Alfred Jones was wanted for treachery and deceit. I was much obliged to gather my crew and head over, since the Bloodhounds are as lack-witted as their namesakes. So I had them herd you, and you just happened to be blind enough to fall for our 'escapee' personas. How pitiful. No wonder the world went to hell because of you. You couldn't smell the shit hitting the fan if you were on the receiving end of it." She motioned with her gun hand and her companions closed in. "Now, we have bounties out for your heads from your respected countries and I have been given permission to take you dead or alive. Alive would be ideal, though. The Overlord does enjoy torture and no doubt you deserve a great deal of it. So how will it be? Come quietly or be pumped full of lead? Your choice. Quite honestly, I like killing just as much as torture, so I have no qualms about downing you where you stand like the despicable pieces of filth you are."

Suddenly, Matthew stepped out of the protection of his peers. Francis made an urgent grab for him. "Matthieu, what are you doing?!" But the Canadian ignored him and looked straight at Jeanne.

"I'm Alfred Jones. We switched names so he could be my decoy if something like this were to happen."

Alfred, although gagged and blindfolded, shouted something muffled and shook his head fervently. But Matthew wasn't backing down from this. Alfred was his brother and he felt it was his responsibility to help him any way he could.

But Jeanne only laughed. "I thought I reached the depth of your stupidity days ago. But this? What a joke. Always like you nations, deceiving so that you get what you want."

The whole time they had been standing there, huddled, Ivan had been trying to focus enough to mentally extract the gun from Nate's hand. But he was so distracted by Alfred being in danger that he was taking longer than usual. Precious minutes wasted as all he could think about was Alfred, Alfred, oh God, Alfred, why did I ever let you go upstairs by yourself?

Arthur, naturally, could feel him working, but the Brit barely batted an eye. He wished he could use magic, but he was afraid it would go out of control like last time. The wards he had put up were nothing, but he couldn't overexert himself.

"Typical," Jeanne scoffed, and Matthew suddenly proved a great distraction. Ivan actually saw the gun twitch in Nate's hand, but the boy was paying too much attention to the exchange between Jeanne and Matthew to notice. "You bastards go so low it's incredible you still have morals. What, do you think by being so noble you'll gain your people's trust again? They've seen through your farce and moved on."

Ivan gritted his teeth. Come on, he urged. Come on, come on, come on! The gun shifted, and Nate's hand tightened around it. Ivan's impatience flared.

"Stand aside, shiteater," Jeanne spat. "You can't pull the wool over my eyes anymore. If you're gonna lie, try looking me in the eye like you mean it. Or are you just the coward like your friends all are deep down? You ever gonna take responsibility for what you did, you fucking piece of chickenshit?"

The way Jeanne sneered at Matthew, the way she regarded him as if he was the lower than dirt was something Matthew could not take. Being belittled was worse than being ignored, and (for the first time in his life) he wanted to punch someone in the face. And that someone was Jeanne. Before he could stop himself, he rushed forward, yelling and drawing his fist back in a threat. Jeanne, though surprised, was prepared and she redirected her gun to Matthew, as did everyone else.

Francis practically pushed others to the ground to get to Matthew. "Matthieu, stop!"

And then many things happened at once.

Ivan gave up on subtlety and yanked the gun out of Nate's hand with his mind. The boy startled, giving an alarmed shout as the weapon shot out of his hand and into Ivan's. Nate ran over to get it back, bemused, but was met with Arthur who shoved him roughly so that he stumbled backward. This gave enough time for Ivan to aim at Jeanne and shoot her gun arm. She gave a pained shout before shooting back and effectively missing Ivan and Matthew both, the latter having been pulled by his hood backward down onto the floor by Francis and the former spotting it early and jumping out of the way, his side screaming. Alfred, meanwhile, had dropped to the floor when he heard the gunshots, rolling onto his stomach and slithering forward, hands still tied behind his back, blind and mute, hoping he didn't get stepped on or worse. He was quickly caught by Jeanne again. Nate, meanwhile, was shouting obscenities as he plowed his way to Ivan, but Arthur encountered him again. Before he could do anything, though, he was kneed in his bruised thigh. Arthur yelled as he dropped to his knees, and Nate give him another vicious kick that sent him tumbling onto his side for good measure as he stepped over him.

Upon the first shot being fired, Ludwig ducked and tried to back his way out of the circle, but he backed into a solid brick wall which just happened to be a very pissed Marvin. The man swung at him and if Ludwig had been a second slower, he would have had a broken nose. He bobbed and weaved around Marvin's flying fists, and when the man started using his feet too, Ludwig merely retreated back into the fray, knowing he was wasting precious time fighting and oh fuck, where was Feliciano?

Luckily for him, Feliciano had used his fast legs to get out of the way of the fighting. Lovino had found him and they were both crouching, shaking and frozen, just behind the couch where they hoped no one would see them, having taken advantage of Nate's absence to get away. Ludwig's heart pounded and he could hear Marvin stomping after him as he made his way toward the couch, looking for the weapons they had left behind. When he peered over it, he was dealt a harsh slap to the face. "Scheiße!"

"Fuck, you idiot!" Lovino had been scared shitless when he'd seen a foreign head peeking over the top of the couch.

Ludwig glared, but didn't have time to argue. "The guns—there, give me one. Quickly!"

Lovino was hesitant to leave Feliciano and he was shaking so badly he was barely of any use. It felt like a lifetime before he finally located the weapon Ludwig had been asking for and tossed it over to him with surprisingly good aim.

Ludwig reeled about just in time to pistol-whip Marvin, who had finally reached him. He ducked out of the way while Marvin was distracted with his pain. Luckily he was distracted enough not to notice Lovino and Feliciano cowering just below him and lumbered off after Ludwig.

Kiku was locked in survival mode, everything in his vision seen as a potential threat. He covered Ivan as the Russian had a violent shoot-out with Jeanne who was trying to drag Alfred up the stairs, but was not getting very far with the blind, bound American tripping up the steps and trying to avoid all the bullets. Nate confronted Kiku after a while of fighting through the endless sea of moving bodies, pushing aside a shouting Yao, who was distracted with fighting Carter to see him coming.

Yao had gotten into the thick of it as soon as Ivan had the gun. He'd rushed toward the man, expecting him not to be strong, but Carter certainly had some heft to him. He dodged Yao for a bit before the Chinaman finally caught him, wrestling with him for the weapon in his hand. They were each trying to force the other to the ground and curses rattled off Carter's tongue so vicious Yao barely remembered the farce that he used to be. Then he was pushed from behind, and the stumble was just enough for Carter to yank his gun hand free and aim it. His glasses were askew, but it only added to the wild rage in his eyes. He truly hated them. He hated them all.

Then two bodies fell backward onto him, and Yao was crushed beneath them, squirming. He realized that Nate was kicking and writhing on top of him while Kiku tried desperately to snag his limbs above him. They locked eyes for a moment before Kiku rolled Nate off of him and they both wrestled on the floor, fighting for dominance. Yao's gaze returned to Carter, who was busy ducking from the bullets flying by his head. But Carter finally steadied his arm and aimed.

Then Carter's legs suddenly crumpled, and he fell to the floor. Yao looked over to see that Francis, who was still on the ground, had kicked the backs of his knees. Matthew, who was beside him, was reaching for his dropped gun. But Carter was quick to recover and snagged it before Matthew could. At this, Francis launched himself onto Carter's back, pushing him flat against the floor. The gun dropped from his hand again but quick feet kicked it out of reach. Instead of wasting his time looking for it, Yao rolled over to help Kiku subdue a now very irate Nate.

Gilbert had been wrestling with Gerald, had been doing so this entire fight, and he didn't think such an old and overweight man could hold his own so much. He had formally been part of the FBI, so he had to have some knowledge of defensive maneuvers, he figured. As soon as Ivan had a gun, Gerald had aimed at the Russian, and Gilbert had flown at him before he could shoot him in the back. He had practically plowed into him from the side, but the man (possibly from his hefty weight) didn't keel over like Gilbert had expected him to. Instead, he reeled about and gave Gilbert a punch to the jaw that sent his vision swimming for a moment before his own knuckles connected with the older man's stubbly chins. The fight between them endured and intensified, each vying control of the loaded weapon in Gerald's hand. Gilbert finally managed to snag his wrist, but Gerald kneed him in the stomach and Gilbert's grip loosened enough for Gerald to wriggle away.

Arthur, meanwhile, was in agony on the floor, but no one (thankfully) was trampling him or paying him much mind. So he used the time to crawl to the closest combat he could find and that was Gerald and Gilbert. He saw Gilbert struggling, teeth gritted and eyes burning with determination, but with every move, every bluff he tried, Gerald noticed just in time and managed to avoid getting snagged. The Briton felt so useless seeing them fight. His burned hands were too painful and weak to fight with, and his leg spasmed so much that he doubted he could stand. So, while Gerald was occupied, Arthur did the only thing he could do.

Gilbert was concentrating so hard, it came almost as a shock to him when Gerald finally broke in his struggle to cringe and glare down. Gilbert followed his gaze and saw (with much surprise indeed) Gerald's ankle in Arthur's teeth.

"You fucking animal," Gerald cursed, trying to shake him off. He gave a pained shout when Arthur's jaws only clenched tighter around him. "Christ! You sonofabitch!"

Arthur looked up at Gilbert and it was only then that the Prussian realized that this was his chance. With a flick of his wrist, he caught the gun and yanked it out of Gerald's hand. And before the old man could even give a startled yell, Gilbert pressed the barrel to his head and pulled the trigger.

Arthur quickly let up and rolled out of the way, trying to avoid his jaw breaking from the collapsing body and the blood pouring down. The blood back-splattered and Gilbert squinted his eyes shut, feeling it run down his face and eyelids, tasting it on his lips. Shivering a bit, he stood and let Gerald fall, kicking his corpse to make sure he really was dead. He looked down at Arthur.

"Danke."

Arthur only nodded and dove back into the action, looking for another ankle to bite.

Gilbert now had a gun. Great. He surveyed what was going on, only to find most of his view obstructed by Ludwig, who was running toward him, and Marvin who was following and not looking particularly happy. Gilbert had time only to vaguely wonder if Lovino was okay and where the hell he might be before Ludwig spotted the gun in his hand and shouted, "Verdammt, use it!"

But Gilbert was too slow and Marvin was too close. Ludwig tried to veer to the side to avoid Marvin's killing embrace, but he was caught up in it anyway. Gilbert watched in horror as his brother was scooped up and a muscled arm wrapped around his neck, squeezing. Ludwig's hands went to it, gripping, pulling, legs flailing, gasping for breath. His gun dropped from his hand and skittered across the floor.

Gilbert was so horrified that it took longer than usual for him to take aim. But his finger only twitched on the trigger before a bullet had lodged in Marvin's bicep. Gilbert looked around for who might have shot and found Lovino crouching beneath one of the arms of the couch, Feliciano clinging to him and a gun in his hand. He looked up at Gilbert and shouted, "Do something, dumbass!"

Gilbert would have done just that if it wasn't for someone knocking him from behind and the gun flying out of his shaky grasp to slide (as it figured) all the way across to the other end of the couch. Lovino gave him a withering look. Fuck!

Marvin's grip let up as he dealt with the pain in his arm and Ludwig slipped from his grasp. He dropped to the floor, knowing he had only a few precious seconds to search for his weapon before Marvin recovered enough to snatch him up again. He turned, searching, heart pounding and head still spinning with lack of oxygen, before he was met with a pair of sturdy legs and his gaze drifted upward.

Marvin gave a triumphant smirk. "Looking for this?" He flashed Ludwig's handgun and the German had barely any time to be shocked before he was being yanked to his feet, his shoulder nearly dislocating with the force of the pull. He felt the cold barrel press to his gut and Marvin narrowed his eyes. "You're a tough fucker. Just like the vermin you are."

Lovino aimed and shot again, but he was shaking so badly that his bullets lodged in the wall instead of in Marvin and eventually he had run out. Gilbert locked eyes with him and Lovino saw something in them… he didn't want to see.

"No," Lovino breathed in disbelief as Gilbert made a move toward Marvin, and his voice escalated, giving up his safety, and he rounded the corner of the couch, arms flailing. "No, you fucking goddamn idiot!"

And Gilbert was a fucking goddamn idiot. Because in the few seconds it took for Marvin to move his finger on the trigger, he had reached him… and pushed Ludwig out of the way with all his might. Marvin was too far gone in his reaction to stop it, and why would he even stop it anyway? Lovino felt his heart explode as the bullet tore out of Gilbert's back, a dark stream of blood following it like the tail of a comet.

No one stopped, no one even turned to see what had happened. For all they knew it was just another bullet lodged in just another wall. But Lovino wouldn't have it that way. He stood, but just as he stood Gilbert sank to his hands and knees, blood spilling out in a steady stream below him, bubbling on his lips, his lungs rattling with it. Ludwig called his name and rushed toward him, but not before Marvin gifted Gilbert with another bullet. Straight to the head.

And just like that Lovino felt his whole world crumple around him, just as Gilbert crumpled and fell limply onto his side. Part of his head was missing and red pooled beneath him, flowed out of him, endless, horrible, and so very familiar to Lovino. He felt as if his lungs had been crushed, but just as soon he had breathed in too hard, filled them too much, and he was screaming, defiant, relentless, excruciating.

"Gilbert!"

Everyone did stop then to look around and see just what it was that Lovino was screaming so agonizingly about. Marvin scoffed, "Noble dumbass," before spitting on him and stepping over his body to take aim at Ludwig. But before Ludwig could do anything, there were three shots in quick succession, and Marvin's legs gave out, falling forward so that Ludwig had to jump out of the way to avoid being trapped beneath him. Three bullet holes smoked in his back while three fingers of blood made trails down his dark skin.

Matthew was holding Carter's gun, his body shaking with barely suppressed anger. "Heartless motherfucker!" he yelled, tears coming to his eyes.

And just as quickly the fight had started up again, though with renewed vigor and only three enemies left to down. Matthew didn't waste any time. He watched Lovino fall to his knees beside the couch, face in his hands, sobbing, and he watched, watched because he wanted the anger to just take him and make him do horrible things. Because it was only right.

Carter squirmed beneath him and Francis before Matthew directed the barrel to the man's head and promptly shot. He felt the warm back-splatter, but he didn't mind. For all he cared, it was just game he'd planted a bullet into, because that's all they were—vicious animals that took everything from him, and seeing Matthew's grief manifest on Lovino's face was more than enough reason to be just as violent as them.

Across the room, Arthur had found Yao and Kiku wrestling with Nate and didn't waste time in pouncing on him, subduing him. "Strangle him!" he shouted, raging beyond all reason. He would do it if his burned hands had the strength—he would wring the man's neck until all that was left was noodle. He would dig his thumbs into those hateful eyes and press his nails into them until blood ran down the boy's cheeks, because this was not happening right now, this was not happening. No one could have died right now, no one they cared about, but Nate just might.

Kiku, who was astride Nate, did as he was told while Yao and Arthur held down Nate's flailing limbs. Kiku wrapped his hands around him and searched for any sign that Nate was sorry… but those eyes remained stony and those snakebites parted as Nate smiled. His split lip coated the glinting silver with red. "Do it, old man. Kill like I do. You'll love it, won't you?"

Kiku couldn't stand to hear anything else from the venomous mouth and pressed down, looking away. But he couldn't look away and his eyes wandered back to the face again, paling before going blue, before the eyes looked like they were bulging, before the lips contracted and the face scrunched up as the ability to breathe was cut off. Kiku wanted so much for it to end, but it dragged on and on and on until, finally, those sinister eyes were empty and the body below him gave out.

Kiku was almost hyperventilating. So much was going on at once and he couldn't handle it all. Yao noticed how stricken he appeared and helped him off of the corpse, letting Kiku lean against him, cradling him. "Oh, Kiku, I'm sorry you had to do that. I'm so sorry."

By then most of them had found some sort of weapon and were brandishing it threateningly at Jeanne. But Jeanne was not fazed. In fact, she didn't show the slightest empathy toward the deaths of her companions. She was halfway up the stairs, holding Alfred by his hair. His blindfold had come off a bit, and he could see out of one eye—could see all the chaos and Gilbert bleeding across the room, not knowing if he was alive or dead with Lovino hunching over him and obstructing his view—but other than that, the conditions were still the same: Jeanne pressing the barrel of the gun to his head, and everyone else watching uselessly.

Jeanne shook her head. "Look at you all, angry because we killed one of you. You will get shit sympathy from me when you let plenty of your people die in the streets this way every day since the Uprising began. Acting like you have one speck of humanity left in you—what a fucking joke. You're above all of us; why should you give a damn if one citizen died? Well, now we're above you. And expect what you gave. I learned not to give a shit from you. This man I have is nothing but an ant to exterminate before going for the whole nest. This is what humanity has become—are you proud of what you created?"

No one answered. No one had to, no one wanted to. Because this woman was beyond evil, and what she said wasn't all a lie. Jeanne shrugged nonchalantly, as if she didn't notice she had at least six guns ready to blow her head off if she happened to make a wrong move. Ivan tried to penetrate her mind, but he found it clouded now, and he was soon lost. He had been trying to lure the gun out of her hand since this whole thing began, but he was so stressed and distracted he barely got anywhere. So he returned to himself, defeated.

"Lambs led to slaughter," she said calmly, brushing away some of Alfred's hair with her gun. The American shuddered. "More like rats led to poison."

And she shot.

Ivan lost his breath for a moment, and it took only a moment for Jeanne to release Alfred and race up the staircase. Alfred tumbled down the stairs and Ivan forgot Jeanne and her gun and ran to him.

"Alfred?" Ivan could feel his chest constrict as he dug his fingers into his clothing and snatched the blindfold from his face. "Alfred? Пожалуйста."

Alfred opened his eyes, pale and shocked. He expected to be dead. The bullet had whizzed right by his ear and he was dizzy and close to fainting from the experience.

"Y-yeah," he said tremulously and wiggled around a bit. He frowned. "My wrists kinda hurt."

Ivan wanted to laugh, but all that came out was an overwhelmed sob.

Translations:

Was?-What?

Что?-What?

Дерьмо-Shit

Пожалуйста-Please

A Word From the Writer: Wow, shit just got real. Who knew Jeanne could be capable of anything so violent? Well, I'm not lying this time. Prussia is dead. More than dead. Half his head is blown off, so I'm pretty sure he's gone. Such an abrupt and bloody way to go... but, hey, gotta increase the brutality or else what kind of villains would the Organization be? Still, can't help feeling sorry for Romano. One of my most favorite pairings right there. Well, now at least Canada won't be the only one depressed. But England didn't get put in any sort of dire danger like I usually put him in. That's a plus, at least.

Feel better? Nah, I didn't think so.