|A/N| Greetings and salutations, my beautiful readers!
IT'S FINALLY HERE! Chapter eight has entered the building. Sorry that it took so long, this was another chapter that went through many changes, character wise. But it's completed and out and I am a proud writer. (And it has tooth-rotting RomNor. I'm not even sorry.)
Hope you enjoy~!
February 25, 2016
Bergen, Norway
"You know, we should've really gotten Emil a cell phone at Christmas."
Lukas tore his eyes from the old house phone sitting on the table, letting them rest on Vladimir. The Romanian was dancing around the kitchen, apron wrapped around his waist as he grabbed different utensils and ingredients. He was making Emil's favorite Icelandic sweet, Mondlukaka, as they awaited the boy's return home. Standing up from where he sat, Lukas grabbed the bag of almonds from the counter as he passed it.
"We didn't have the money back then, Vlad." He sighed, opening the bag and grabbing a cup from the cupboard. "How about we go buy him one this week? Maybe on Sunday we can have a family day or something." Despite how hard he was trying to mask it, Lukas was just as concerned as Vladimir was. Emil usually didn't stay at Leon's this long, a full day, without calling to give the two of them a heads up about a sleepover or whatever was going on. Maybe he was still upset? That seems like the most likely possibility, knowing Lukas' little brother.
Vladimir smiled, eyes holding worry. "That sounds nice. Thanks, Lu."
The duo lapsed into silence, the sound of beating eggs and grinding almonds making the kitchen come alive. Vlad was humming an old Romanian lullaby, one Lukas instantly recognized as Emil's childhood favorite. A small smile spread across his lips. Vlad loved Emil just as much as Lukas did and that was saying something; Vladimir just had that nature, Lukas supposed. The nurturing type, caring and compassionate and good with kids. It was...charming. He would make a good parent one day, if he decided to have kids.
It took no time at all for them to pop the cake into the oven. They had made that recipe more than they would like to admit, with Emil having a mouth full of sweet teeth. Then again, it seemed that the whole household did.
"You've got some flour on your nose." Lukas pointed out, taking a step closer to his friend and wiping the white powder off Vlad's face. He would never admit it, but he felt a form of pride blossom fill his chest when Vlad's pale skin dusted pink.
Vladimir took a breath to respond, most likely with a small "thanks," but was interrupted by a shrill chime from the ancient house phone. Heart leaping up into his throat, Lukas went over to the phone and picked it up from the receiver, hoping it was Emil. Biting his lip, Lukas forced himself to calm down before raising the phone to his ear, "Hello? Bondevik-Lupei residence."
"Loki?"
The voice on the other end was cracked with static, posh accent marred by bad reception. Disregarding that, it was as familiar as a slap to the face. Lukas tensed, sitting down and holding onto the table, fingers almost digging into the nice wood. "I believe you have the wrong number, sir. No one by that name lives here."
"No, I believe that I'm calling the right person. I can recognize your voice anywhere, Loki." Arthur's voice was condescending, forcing out both syllables of that damned name that Lukas hated to admit had ever been his. Before he could say anything else, the Brit continued, "I'm supposing Vasilica is with you? After all, you ran off together, it would make sense for you to stay together after all this time."
Vladimir was looking at his worriedly, Lukas could see him from the corner of his eye. "We don't go by those names anymore." He spat, knowing that Vlad would catch on. "But I suppose you still go by Arthur?"
"Of course I do." A snort, clearly meant to be belittling. "I was given my name at creation, why would I ever change it?"
Soft footsteps approached. The phone was tugged from Lukas' hands, being pressed against Vladimir's ear. He was grim, an expression that Lukas had never wanted to see on the Romanian's face ever again. "Because it is a name stained with blood." His voice was quiet, almost ethereal in the way that you couldn't tell if he was actually speaking or not. Lukas knew the tone well; frustration, worry, anger. Negativity made Vlad quiet. "Why did you call Arthur? How did you even find us again? You hate us, remember that; we are traitors to our creator and you are much higher in rank than us."
Lukas focused on the phone, trying to listen in on the call. It was easy, easier than he had expected. "Well, what I have to tell you is important." Arthur grumbled, sounding displeased. "I'm afraid that, since I am technically a solo operation now, I must give you information meant for all three of us."
"And that information is?" Vladimir prompted, frowning.
"Well, it is my great displeasure to say that...They're back."
:
February 25, 2016
Hampshire, England
The room was dark, blinds drawn and lights off. Arthur tapped his pen on his desk, providing the only sound in the room, as he listened to his old colleagues talk over each other in shouts. He still didn't have a clue why the two of them had stayed together after all these years, but the reason was easier to see now; the two evened each other out. Like a married couple who worked incredibly well.
A sliver of dull, yellow light flooded the room, bathing Arthur and his desk in it. The silhouette of Francis stood in the doorway, holding a tray in his hands. Arthur scowled despite himself, taking the phone from his ear and pressing his hand against the mouthpiece. "Not now, Francis," he hissed, narrowing his eyes, "I'm working."
Francis took a step forward, shaking his head in disapproval. "Non." He said, putting the tray (filled with sweets and housing a steaming teapot) onto the small table Arthur used for things that couldn't fit on his desk. He grabbed a rose-decorated teacup—one that Arthur would call his favorite—and poured some of the drink into it. "Vous avez besoin de votre force, mon ami." Francis smiled, looking tired.
Arthur sighed, "Fine. Only because you went through so much trouble." He watched Francis beam from the corner of his eye, the wings hidden behind his partner's large coat clearly fluffing up. "Now, let me get back to my work, please. This phone call is very important."
"Vous allez manger, oui?" Francis pouted, tilting his head. Like a bird. Arthur resisted the urge to snort.
"Yes, I will." To prove his point, Arthur grabbed the teacup, raising it to his lips before blowing on it and taking a sip. "There. Happy?"
Smile growing brighter, Francis clapped his hands together. "Oui!" He chirped, voice jumping up an octave. Turning around with a flash of white feathers, Francis made his way out of Arthur's study. "Bonne chance avec le travail, Arthur! Bonne nuit."
"Good night to you as well, Francis." Arthur muttered, resuming his phone call. Surprisingly, Lukas and Vlad had lapsed into a quiet argument, one that Arthur was unable to listen in on. As the argument dragged on, the Brit found himself drifting into his thoughts. 'Hopefully they found that "Emil" boy. And I found Francis...That means that we still have most of this group unaccounted for. Damn.'
Silence came from the other end of the phone, bringing Arthur's attention back to it. "Now, if you two are done bickering like an old married couple, we have many things to discuss."
"And what makes you think we want to talk to you?" Lukas spat, "We've been handling the General and his lackeys by ourselves for a long time! The bigger picture won't be that hard, considering the General is one of their highest officers." Arthur couldn't deny that fact. General Winter was a very powerful man, especially as a foe, but "Lukas" and "Vladimir" had no idea what they were truly up against.
Green eyes looked at the paper laid in front of Arthur. An array of names, give a take a few blank spots, matched with another list labeled "abilities." Two different colors ran through a set of names; Francis in green and Hue in red. That was the only information Arthur knew for sure, especially after his old partner's call, but it was still worrying.
"I know that you have been handling the General." Arthur said, leaning back in his chair and picking up another slip of paper. It was glossy, a rectangular picture displaying a young man. He seemed mostly normal, save for glowing green eyes that showed clearly in the dark. Another Unnatural, one that Arthur hadn't been able to get to. He sighed, putting the picture down again. "But have you heard of Project Genesis?"