Those black holes. Just showing up anywhere..

Warning: Violence, weapons, fight scene, gore, attempted child rape, and (possible) character death.

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

"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts."

—Winston Churchill

Fall

Arthur was walking the length of Passage 14, back and forth, back and forth. He counted his steps one way, turned, counted again. His muscles locked up with each passing of an Organization soldier, but they paid him little mind. He was, after all, only a part of the hive.

Somewhere just on the other side of the grime crusted wall Ludwig was pacing in the same fashion. Entirely the same, Arthur knew well. His mind could pick up on the man's growing angst even at such a distance. For a time, he stilled enough to listen, tendrils of his consciousness brushing against Ludwig's thoughts. Everything was a jumble, something Arthur would not have suspected from the man's outward appearance, and among all the flying words was one that resonated as sharply as a church bell. Feliciano, it rang. Feli, Feliciano. Arthur was soon reminded of Francis, Alfred, Matthew—of everyone who may be gone within the span of an hour or sooner, and he was forced to pull back, the inner being that controlled all things psychological curling up within him like a withered morning glory retreating from approaching nightfall. Arthur shivered and continued to pace again—1, 2, 3, 4—as a realization stole over him, making him wonder whether a sunrise would ever come to coax open those shield-like petals or the darkness would stretch on long enough to have it killed in its own sanctuary. Another soldier walked by, all straight-backed and perfect formation, and Arthur shivered exponentially more than he had before.

A black-clad finger swept across an elaborate map of tunnels, marked accordingly with numbers, arrows, colors, and the like. It paused on the number 14, tapping it. Green eyes met his like emerald shards and he couldn't help but think of Lennox.

"Now, Team Charlie. Here. This'll be your post, and Ludwig's,"—here the finger slid from 14 to 16—"will be here. Currently most of the Organization's troops have already been deployed to their posts or training. The tunnels are hardly full, save the guards. Once Bernard gives the signal, it will take about two minutes for a summoning signal goes out. An alarm will sound in the tunnels, calling anyone within to arms. At this time, the troops assigned to you will rush out with the rest and spread themselves strategically among the Organization rats. Shawn will be with them and give them the go ahead to start butchering the opposing forces. Do not attract attention to yourselves. Kill just like everyone else and try to seem like you're just another Resistance fighter. We can't afford to lose you this early in the game.

"Your goal, as previously stated, is to clear the tunnels, working your way up from the south to meet up with team Delta and as a unit free the women's sector, the children, and the hostages. There, I'll meet you with my team to escort all those you manage to free out of the tunnels and take any officer in sight captive."

"There are sure to be security precautions in place," Ludwig pointed out, brow furrowed as he examined the map further. Arthur could tell even without penetrating his mind that the German's thoughts were far from security issues. His eyes kept traveling to a far corner of the room in which, without looking, Arthur knew Feliciano to be standing, watching.

"You're not wrong." Red's finger began to move from point to point and all their eyes eagerly followed. "These places are all rigged with explosives. When the Council receives information that a battle is going down within the tunnels, they'll give the go ahead to activate the weapons."

Arthur's heart sped up a little with the thought of possibly being blown to bits in any number of places at any time. "I assume this is where Todd and Danny come in?"

Red nodded. "Throughout the operation, Todd will be communicating with you via earpiece. It is important that you listen to everything he says. Or else you're meat confetti."

Arthur's stomach churned at the image before Todd stepped forward, keeping an even gaze with them all. "From what we have learned, the defenses installed in the tunnels require two affirmations for decommission: one from the source on site and the other from its branch network which can only be accessed from within the Technical Headquarters. I'll try to hack into the system as quickly as I can, but no guarantees can be made as to just how many I can decommission before they go off. As long as you listen to the channel when I tell you to get the hell out of the way, then you'll be fine."

Arthur scoffed. Yeah, just fine. At the morning training drill that very minute, Todd was standing in rank, shoulder to shoulder with Organization soldiers who knew nothing of what was coming. After the signal, he would be on his way to the database facility where all the big black rats sat on their black seats with their black fingers working at their keyboards, setting off this and that and reclining every once in a while to watch the little model explosions on screen pop in and out of existence. I hope he makes it. Not just for his own sake, for the sake of not having his parts plastered against the walls and floor. He wanted to have those black rats covered in red, wished he could be close enough to hear them squeal when their nest was raided. Once again he shivered, this time just to get his anxiety out. What was taking Bernard so goddamn long?

And, as if summoned by his mind, muffled gunfire reached Arthur's ears from a very long way off and not a second later the howling alarm sliced through the tunnels like a meat cleaver. He had the urge to stop, drop to his knees, cover his ears, and wail along with it, sure that his eardrums had burst. But the Organization men began to swarm, as if deaf and guided by instinct alone, toward the gates, a call to arms, and Arthur, playing the part, followed just as mindlessly.

Daylight was a disk no bigger than a halved melon at the end of the passage when there was a shrill scream and Arthur whipped his head around to see a Resistance fighter yank his knife out of an Organization soldier, his body tumbling listlessly to the ground mere seconds before his comrades'. The traitors among them were eating holes in their ranks by dropping them like the flies they were. Screams, gurgles, gasps, dying wheezes—all bouncing off the dank walls and music to Arthur's ears. His mind was in a haze, as if refusing to accept the fact that everything they had been through, what seemed years and years of agonizing turmoil, had all come down to this one moment of a bloody, Romanesque free-for-all.

Morituri te salutant.

A soldier came flying at him, and it took Arthur a few heart-stopping seconds to identify him. But the blank look in the man's eyes, the almost mechanical way he reached for and aimed his gun was enough—Arthur wasted no time plunging the length of his knife into his gut.

The soldier gave a wet cough before stumbling out of Arthur's line of vision, and the Briton took a few steps into the fray before he was met with another rat. He downed this one the same as the last, and the one after. Weapons were out and loaded now, the rest of the Organization recruits recognizing a coup, but Arthur still met them with his dripping blade. For every man he came across, every rat that tried to down him, he gave a few more stabs, drew more blood. Ludwig found him with a fist curled into one of the men's infamous turtlenecks while the other jabbed the knife into the stomach of the man it belonged to over and over, twenty times. Arthur nearly attacked Ludwig when he entered the corner of his eye.

"We need to move," the German said, as if in reminder. Arthur stood there for a second, staring down at the man whose belly he'd just opened, and if nothing else felt an even more intense rage. These men were brainwashed, yes, but they stood in the way of all the good the world used to be, and that alone was unacceptable.

Without a word they moved through the crowd of the dead and the dying. A Resistance fighter received a bullet to the chest and staggered before tackling the soldier who shot him to the ground. The Resistance troops had been ordered to protect the personified nations above everything else. If they were to die, then the fighting would have been for naught.

Despite their efforts to shield them, Arthur and Ludwig were constantly losing contact within the crowd, forced to make a quick sidestep to avoid a barrage of lead or duck to escape an angled slash of a blade. Once, Arthur moved too late and was nearly gutted. He felt the sharp metal slice his side, felt warmth well from the wound, but he kept pushing forward, determined not to fall. To be cut down by such sewer filth would simply not do. He was better than that, and everyone who was counting on him to return expected better. His ankle was grabbed by one of the soldiers bleeding out below him and he retaliated with a kick to his skull that laid him out on the floor again, drowning in his own pool of blood.

He knew it was risky, after having reacted to such extremity the last it was used, but Arthur reached out with his mind, tapping on the reserves of his magic to sense Ludwig's location. He found the man within half a minute, the German lowering his gun as an Organization soldier crumpled to the ground. Much of the tunnel crossroads was clear now, the adjoining passages echoing with shouts and retreating feet.

Arthur stared after an opposition soldier, watching his black rat tail slip around a corner. The Briton's eyes narrowed and his fingers traced the butt of the weapon at his side. "They're getting away." His voice was guttural with a seething hate.

"I know," Ludwig replied. Only a few of the Organization's soldiers remained, abandoned by their comrades to be cut down by Resistance forces. "They are running because they are being ordered to regroup. Where I don't know, but we must clear the tunnels of their filth before they have the chance to gather again."

Alarm flashed through Arthur then, dominating his mind even more so than wrath for a few adrenaline-fueled seconds. "We are to split up?" He studied Ludwig's gaze and found imprints of utter mental exhaustion. The tendrils still detected that ever present echo of Feliciano. The German's red-splotched hands curled into fists.

"Ja, it is for the best." He met Arthur's eyes then. "You take the left tunnel and I will take the right. If everything works out as planned, we will meet up at the Expansion Center. I will instruct Shawn to guard the gate should any Organization soldiers be ordered to march back from their posts or training outside." Arthur nodded, taking only a few steps, back turned, before he heard, "Remember what you're here for, Arthur. Your mission may be to free hostages, but you also need to stay alive. Do not do anything rash."

Arthur didn't reply, only let the words slosh around in his mind as he ran. Only ten minutes had passed since the coup had begun, ten minutes that seemed an hour, so Arthur was surprised to hear Todd's voice cut through the static in his earpiece.

"I'm in, I repeat, I'm in!" More static, muffled gunfire. "Defenses are set to go off. Arthur, you are approaching one on your right. Turn down the upcoming passage and don't stop. Copy?"

Arthur pressed his fingers to the earpiece. "Copy that." And he dashed down the indicated tunnel, barely getting a quarter of the way down before an eruption of white-hot heat rushed up the passage, rumbling and spilling rubble. Arthur coughed, a thick cloud of dust chasing him, trying to swallow him up and choke him. It was only then he was aware that a group of Resistance troops were tailing him, having followed to clear out the tunnels with him. Their presence was realized as some of their screams were muffled by falling concrete or burned out as the fire cooked those who couldn't escape fast enough. Arthur didn't turn around, though, didn't stop. He was determined to hold up his part of the agreement, to see everything through to the end because he had come too far to stop now.

Defenses continued to go off, whether just behind him, a ways in front of him, or a distance off, shaking the whole system like one merciless earthquake. Screams, cries, gunshots, hacking—they all echoed down the tunnels at every turn, and there was no difference between the dying sounds of a Resistance fighter or an Organization soldier. Todd's voice kept guiding him through, Arthur's heart racing as fast as his legs, growing dizzy at the hairpin turns and legs wobbly at the sudden roar of explosions.

He heard other names as well, lungs contracting with every mention: "Matthew, a defense to your left, turn here. Ludwig, lead your forces down the next tunnel, quickly! Kiku, get out of that tunnel as fast as you can. Red, Feliciano, don't go down that way, take another route. Dan, there's another defense there. Disable it and send me its code."

"Disabled. Code is 245 Papa 34 Foxtrot, Tango, Bravo."

"Copy… yes, another down! Should be one just ahead—Matthew, Kiku, pick up the pace and go left."

And so on.

Until Arthur heard something that made him stop dead in his tracks. An explosion close by, just to the southwest. His troops stopped with him and did not question, just listened; listened to the horrible sound of thousands of pounds of concrete crumble and rain down into a nearby passage, making the ground beneath their feet shudder for minutes on end. Arthur's lungs were once again shriveled in his chest, praying that Todd's voice would not return for a few moments at least. But then it did, and Arthur's heart lurched. "Kiku? Kiku, do you copy?"

"… H-hai."

"Where's Matthew? I can't see him on the map."

"…"

"Kiku? Kiku?"

"The tunnel collapsed," came the panicked response. "There is a pile of rubble… I-I can't see him. I lost him."

Oh no. Arthur stood there, shaking and feeling more helpless than he ever had. Matthew was trapped, and where was he? Running away, toward the center, away from Matthew who was probably suffocating. Todd's voice was a sharp jab to Arthur's ear.

"Arthur, keep going. I disabled the defenses for this tunnel. You're clear to the Expansion Center."

"But… Matthew, I…"

"Remember your mission, Arthur," was Ludwig's gruff response, and Arthur tore his feet away and began running once more, leaving his breath and every hope of a rescue effort behind as he did.

He rounded a corner, his troops following, not saying a word to them, not needing to. Surely they would have dragged him kicking and screaming to the Expansion Center if he'd so much as set foot in the direction of the tunnel collapse. But he hated it. He hated not being allowed to do as he wanted—that's what they were fighting for, the right to have their voices heard. So, in a stroke of witless thought he stole around a corner and rushed ahead only to dash into a tunnel to his right, ducking behind rubble as his confused troops moved past him. They were kept busy calling out to him, searching, as Arthur moved off, intent upon looping around and going to where he heard the tunnel collapse. As much as he regretted leaving his men behind, he couldn't allow yet another nation to die by the hands of the Organization, especially not crushed and alone beneath a pile of rocks. Matthew deserved better than that.

No sooner had he cleared the tunnel in which he had hidden than he heard Todd's voice, harsh and reprimanding on the other end. "Arthur, what the hell do you think you're doing? Your place is—"

The line went dead.

And Arthur thought nothing of it, was grateful for it, as he snatched the earpiece from him and flung it to the ground. I've been through more hell than you can imagine, centuries of turmoil and unrest, he thought scathingly. I'll be damned if I let some drunken computer hack tell me where my place is.

Another tunnel, devoid of anything but true rats fleeing the battle, and he began to get nervous. Was he lost? How far had he gone? That earpiece was lying somewhere probably gnawed on by the evacuating rodents or crushed by a heavy foot, the only link to the location of the Expansion Center, or anything. Instead of stopping or turning back, he continued on, shooting down any opposing soldiers he saw, Matthew's face a constant presence behind his eyes.

Another tunnel, another Organization soldier, and Arthur aimed at his back as he moved against the far wall, just another rat to kill. But then he heard crying—a child's cry, a child's beg, and he changed his route, raced over.

"S-stop! No! L-let me g-go!"

The Organization soldier didn't say a word. Arthur approached him, weapon raised and ready, and saw the man tear off the child's skirt. He held her wrists in one large, leather-bound hand, twisting her around and pressing her face into the wall.

"Stop, no!" she yelled before her voice broke and she began sobbing. "Please, let me go. Take me back to the Center! I p-promise, I won't run away again! Please!"

When the soldier's hand trailed to his waist, fingers poised to remove the belt there, Arthur shot at his leg.

"Fuck!" he swore, legs giving out. The girl in front of him squirmed, her wrists still held tight to the wall, pale, frightened face turning to see blood drip onto the floor. She couldn't have been more than six or seven. Fire coiled in Arthur's gut, and he shot the soldier again, this time in his lower back, forcing him to release the girl, who staggered and whimpered. Arthur walked up and scowled down at the hunched figure.

"They teach you to rape little girls in this Fellowship of Man?" he asked bitterly. "What a wonderful world they want to create. They didn't allow you to do it before, but now—this must be a paradise for scum like you."

He shot the man again, in the chest, and the soldier wheezed and toppled onto his side, glaring his blank glare, belt loose and pants hanging low. Arthur was intent upon leaving him there in that deserted tunnel to bleed out slowly, turning and beckoning for the girl who stood shivering and staring with eyes as wide and white as eggs a few feet away. She cringed at him and back away.

"What he did was wrong," Arthur told her, holding out his hand. He had put his gun away, but he found the girl staring at it as it rested in the holster at his side. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help you. Do you know where your mum is, love?"

The girl's eyes lifted from the gun to him, and, slowly, she nodded.

"I'll take you to her. I promise. Come on."

A long minute passed during which the girl and Arthur just stared at each other, and then the child hesitantly walked toward him, keeping a far distance between her and the fallen Organization soldier, who seemed to have passed out. She took his hand with her tiny one, smeared with grime from the sewer tunnel wall she had been forced against, and suddenly Arthur forgot that he was lost, that the whole reason he had become lost was because he had the intention to save Matthew. He knew he would eventually find the Expansion Center and the girl's mother, even if it took him years.

"Let's go." He lifted the girl and held her, allowing her to cling to his front. "Do you remember where you came from?"

She nodded again, pointing. Arthur moved in the indicated direction, but then he heard the blast of a gun behind him, and he had to make a quick decision about which direction he should move in. He chose a step to the right, correct, but not far enough; a bullet tore through his back and out of his chest. The girl screamed and writhed, and he nearly dropped her. The bullet had thankfully missed her, but Arthur was bleeding as he ran, the Organization soldier behind him waking from his feigned sleep and attempting to gun him down.

The girl's screams were ear-piercing, little nails digging through his shirt and into his skin. "Hold on," he kept telling her as lead whizzed past them, growing ever closer with every shot. "Hold on, hold on."

The end of the tunnel seemed too far away, and Arthur's body seemed to be moving far too slowly. But yes, he was almost there, almost, just a few more steps and then they would both be out of range…

The click below his feet seemed louder than even the gunshots behind him, and Arthur barely had time to look down before he was falling through the floor—yes, falling, he made clear to his addled mind—into a blackness, as if he was falling through the earth. The girl's screams stopped for a moment in sheer confusion and terror before continuing in a new, sharper decibel. Together they plunged through the dark, leaving the tunnels, light, and explosions behind. They were falling for too long it seemed, but it was all too soon when they hit the bottom, Arthur's head cracking off the hard floor as the girl flew out of his arms, his eyes clouding over with a new sort of blackness.

Translations:

Morituri te salutant-Those who are about to die salute you. (Not really a translation more like one of those universal Latin sayings like carpe diem. The full saying is Ave, Imperator, morituri te salutant which means the same thing but with "Hail, Emperor" at the beginning. It's basically what gladiators shouted before competing to kill each other).

A Word From the Writer: Fuck, man, what's with all this bad luck flying around? Lol, I literally just finished this chapter, I'm such a lazy fuck. So what we have here is everyone passing out and the floor somehow disappearing below your feet. Just the usual crazy stuff. So as of now the possible death count goes: Russia, Canada, and England. Russia could die by being blown up and practically flayed by fire, Canada could be crushed by rubble, and England could quite possibly have a dent in his head from hitting the floor so hard. Just weigh each possibility there.

On another note, I meant to tell you in previous chapters about the mention of one character during Italy's spiritual visit with the dead countries. If you go back through, you will see written "Feliciano's eyes followed the hand patting the dog's head, and they trailed upward to meet a face he had never seen. Dark hair, bells intertwined, and piercing blue eyes. She merely nodded in acknowledgement, her gaze dark and rueful." Yup. It's Penny. If you can't figure out why she wears bells in her hair, google "Philadelphia" and "bell" and see what you get (ignore all the stupid advertising that pops up, it's historical! Or maybe the ads just attack me...? e_e).

More possible deaths next time!