CONTENT WARNING: Fighting, Gore
Luke 8:17 - For nothing is hid, that shall not be made manifest; nor [anything] secret, that shall not be known and come to light.
Normally, the well being of individual nations are trivial matters to Russia. Being the giant that he is, events on the western side of Europe were of no concern to him. He managed dominion over his states and paid no mind to other affairs; however, England's absence from the last world meeting was unusual.
It was unusual enough for Russian intel to take an interest in the matter. When Russian ambassadors were sent to the UK to gain more context, fingers were pointed at Ivan for a possible abduction of Arthur. This of course was not true. Ivan denied it, but was met by skepticism from the prime minister and queen. There was mutual agreement from parliament and the republic that England's absence be silently investigated.
Not that Ivan gave a shit. Arthur meant nothing to the Russian Federal Republic, and Arthur meant nothing to their president either. No, Arthur had no value to Ivan or his country. Yet finding out how this "mighty" figure disappeared? That was enough to spark some interest. To abduct a country without a trace was quite a feat. Normally abductions lead to ransoms and negotiations, but there wasn't a single whisper about Arthur's whereabouts. It was too interesting to ignore.
Not a word of where Arthur was… Well, until now.
Russia's superiors suspected that something was going on in Germany. It didn't feel like a coincidence that shortly after Arthur's disappearance, bodies went missing in morgues and homelessness suspiciously dropped. There was no way to prove these instances were connected, but Ivan felt a malevolent energy from it. He and his superiors agreed that it was worth looking into, so Russia was sent to the world meeting to eavesdrop on the gathering nations. He had a suspicion that Ludwig was more than aware of what was going on in his country. When Ivan tried to confront Ludwig about Arthur's disappearance, the German wouldn't crack. Their interaction went as expected, but it helped Ivan confirm that Ludwig was hiding something, and it was a promising lead to get the United Kingdom off his back.
Ivan reported the conversation back home, and two weeks laters, a task force made preparations for Ivan to quietly investigate Ludwig's residence. Intel noted that Ludwig was adjusting back to his normal life now that his bereavement leave was over. Lights would turn on at 5 am, the German would leave around 9:30 am, he'd return around 5 pm, and then lights would turn out at 10 pm. Repeat.
Despite this 9-5 normacy, Ivan could just feel the German was lying through his teeth about England. Somewhere in that house had to be a clue, which was why, at 10:30 am, Ivan was standing at the German's front door with gloved hands and a bag.
The goal was for Ivan to get in, try to find clues about England's location, and leave without a trace. He pulled his scarf over his lips as the chilly wind whipped his coat about. Reaching into his bag, Russia pulled out a lock pick and fumbled with the door, satisfied when he heard the lock give. The heavy wooden door slowly creaked open into a dark house.
An unwelcoming smell of burnt cinnamon rolls immediately singed Ivans nose as he stepped inside. Chills swept through Ivans bones as he closed the door. The house was freezing.
"Geez, you'd think it'd be warmer inside," he chattered as tools clanked back into the bag.
The house was unnaturally dark. Every curtain was drawn and lights were all off, shadows leaning over the tall man and making him small. It made Ivan want to pull all the curtains open to escape the deafening dark, but the fear of a neighbor catching him in the window caused him not to. A flashlight would have to do.
Ivan rattled around in his bag before finding his flashlight and turning it on, the bulb sputtering a few times before stabilizing. Ivans eyes scanned the front entrance. There was only a key rack with no keys, and a coat rack with a single, worn leather coat. Ivan slipped his gloved hands into the coat to see if there was anything in the pockets. No luck. Time to move forward then.
When Ivan stepped past the entryway into the living room, a high pitched cracking pierced through his ears. It was only for a split second, but the energy was enough for him to drop the flashlight and cover his ears.
"Fuck!" It hurt. The high pitched humming hurt. Ivan's eyes squeezed shut in pain, waiting for the noise to pass. Except it didn't. The hum rose and fell, some high, some low, but consistent like a machine.
Ivan forced an eye open so he could dig through his bag and stuff tissues in his ears to help with the noise. It wasn't ideal but it's all he had. It softened the cracking to the point where it was tolerable. Ivan tried to relax his body once he got the noise under control. The sound had caused his muscles to seize up.
God… how can Ludwig live like this.
It was hard ignoring the noise, the freezing cold, the smell, and the darkness. The atmosphere was less than inviting. As Ivan scooped his flashlight back up, he found it hard to believe the German was living comfortably. Even though the house made him uncomfortable, Ivan wasn't planning on staying long. It was best to ignore the eeriness and just push forward.
Russia started to poke around the furniture of the living room and was surprised to see how spotless it was. Sterile almost. Nothing was left out. Not a book, not a paper, not a cup. Every pillow was fluffed to perfection, the rug lush, the wooden floor glossy, the couch spotless, the coffee table smudgeless. Everything was accounted for and put in its proper place. It felt pointless to poke around, given how clean everything was. If anything had happened, it was long gone now. So Ivan left the room to wander down the west corridor.
While walking down the hallway, Ivan noticed that patches of paint were discolored on the walls. He ran his fingers over these spots, perplexed by their odd coloration. This was normally a symptom of damp walls, but when his gloved finger pulled away, there was no evidence of condensation. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? No… Ivan was right. The paint was darker in some places. The oddness of it made Ivan feel like there was something trapped behind the walls of the house, but he pushed the thought aside as he entered Ludwig's bedroom.
Ludwig's bedroom was…solemn. There was a sorrow that hung off the center room light. Objects in the corners of rooms looked like shadowy figures with their heads hanging. The pictures on the walls had their eyes pulled down, as if they couldn't look the photographer in the eye. The bed was crisply made with only two pillows and a thin blanket. On the east side, was a single desk with an old wooden chair. On top of the desk lay two books and a photo album with the page open to a picture of Ludwig and his late brother posing with beer at Oktoberfest. The picture was the only thing that held any warmth between the four walls. Had he been a friend of the Beilschmidt brothers, he might find the image amusing; however, Ivan only saw the lost sentiments of a tired, sad man holding onto something that no longer exists.
Ivan pushed the pictures aside to search through the desk hoping to find something that would be of use. All he found was junk, or what he considered to be junk: pencils, old erasers, a few loose cords, and half used notepads. Useless. Moving his flashlight along, Russia crouched under Germany's bed, hoping to find something. He pulled a few boxes out, quickly discovered it was porn, and then immediately pushed them back under the bed with disgust. Ivan wiped his hands on his jacket as he moved away from the bed and towards Ludwigs closet.
The closet was just a darker version of Ludwigs were coats, button up shirts, a collection of suits, some well worn leather shoes, an old rifle, a few pistols, a dusty box of ammo, 3 hats, and well worn pants. All of the items sagged on their hangers, darkness bleeding into the hems. Russia's nose flared in frustration, there was nothing for him here to find. Just some stupid books and a porn collection. Russia slammed the closet door and left the room with a huff. Maybe the library across the hall would have better results.
In comparison to the rest of the house, the library was in disarray. Ivan was not expecting a room full of unpacked boxes when he opened the door. Boxes were piled high against the caliginous walls and bookshelves, teetering in the dark, threatening to fall with the slightest breeze. On the side of every box was the words "Gilbert," followed by the box's contents. Ivan read the scripts under the dim beam of the flashlight and learned that Ludwig had packed up the entirety of Prussia's apartment and moved it into his study. Some of these boxes lay empty on the ground, others slightly open with things missing, and most still taped up. Ivan tried not to disturb the towers of boxes as he searched the room, but it was hard getting behind some of them. Just when Ivan thought he found some papers on a desk that might be of some clue, his light started to cut in and out on him. Ivan cursed under his breath, hitting the light with his hand as it flickered. Maybe if he rotated the batteries, it'd stop acting up.
When the batteries were removed, the house felt much darker than Ivan remembered it being when he first stepped inside. The shadows grew larger with every second he wasted, and a nightmarish energy slowly crept up from behind. Ivan's ears throbbed with adrenaline as he struggled to get the batteries back in. As soon as the light turned on, Ivan swung the flashlight to the door to make sure no one was there. There was nothing, of course, but for a minute where Ivan's light wasn't working, he felt like he was not alone in the house. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Nothing was there. It was all in his head, right?
Eyes playing tricks or not, Ivan was eager to get out of the room. He felt suffocated by the boxes and as if the walls were sinking in on him. He'd have to come back to take a better look at the pages strewn on the study desk. For now, the library was too unsettling for him to focus. He made sure to close the door behind him.
The only other room left outside of the kitchen was the guest room. Unfortunately, it had nothing in it. Just an empty bed, an empty dresser, an empty closet, and pictures on the walls with empty eyes.
This wasn't what Ivan was hoping for. He rubbed his brow in frustration and left the room. There was really only one more place left to check now, and that was the kitchen and dining room. A headache was starting to form and Ivan was feeling exhausted. He was ready for this to be over.
Tired eyes glossed over the kitchen. Yet again, nothing. Everything was spotlessly clean. Everything was put away. Everything just looked like a normal fucking house. Ugh! He swore something was off. Ludwig had to have something somewhere connected to Arthur.
Ivan's eyes scanned the walls of the kitchen as it melted into the dining room, and that's when he caught the east wall. Much like the hallway, patches of discolored paint speckled the drywall, except these were darker and larger, and the closer they got to the basement door, the worse they smelled. Ivan pinched his nose as he approached the door.
He gave the knob a jiggle but it wouldn't budge. The door was deadbolted. That's when Ivan realized that whatever Ludwig was hiding, it had to be behind this door. It was too easy. He should have just gone this way to begin with. Ivan slightly chuckled to himself as he shuffled around in his bag to find his bump keys. Picking the lock should be easy.
…except it wasn't. Ludwig got new deadbolts installed and the bump key didn't work. Ivan heaved an exasperated sigh. Of course it didn't work.
Ivan really didn't want to damage anything while he was here, but he could just feel something was beyond that door. It was a last resort, but Ivan was so confident, he didn't care. His crowbar latched under the lock and Ivan pitted his weight against the door. With a loud crack, the wood gave way, splitting the frame and damaging the deadbolt. Ivan pulled back and returned the crowbar to his bag as he watched the door slowly swing open.
Maybe it was just the basement being below the house, but when the door opened, freezing, damp air blasted into the room from the stairway. The smell of rotten meat accompanied it. It made Ivan gag and cover his nose. What the fuck was Ludwig keeping down there? A broken fridge or some shit?
Ivan peered down the stairway. The darkness only deepened with each step. Surely there had to be a door down flashlight sputtered down the stairway, barely illuminating another door before the batteries completely died.
Well, if the flashlight didn't work, there was no point in keeping it. Irked, Ivan shoved it back into his bag and pulled his scarf up his nose to mask the smell. When he tried to feel a switch on the wall, his hand found nothing. Of course. There was no stupid light in this stupid stairwell. Ivan rolled his eyes. He'd just have to hope that there was a light behind the basement door.
The floorboards loudly creaked with every step. Ivan swore the stairs were clean when he caught a glimpse of them, but as he walked down, his boots stuck to the wood. When he got to the bottom door, the muffled high pitched noise in his ears got louder. He tried to ignore it and open the door. It was locked, much to his annoyance. Whatever Ludwig was hiding in the basement, he didn't want it getting out. Ivans fingers confirmed that the door was just like the last - deadbolted oak.
Splitting wood rang up the stairway as Ivan went to work on the second door. Once he popped the lock, Ivan took a deep breath and pushed into the room.
Ivan had to squint. It was so dark, all he could see were shadowy figures in various corners of the room. The same ominous dread from the library started to fill his stomach. There was a presence in the dark, watching…looming. Ivan held his breath, listening for any signs of life, but the room was deathly air felt thick, the smell of rot and burning wires searing his nose, the taste of copper tainting his lips. For a second, he thought he saw something move from one side of the room to the other and it caused his heart to leap. When he found the switch on the wall and turned it on, Ivan caught sight of something unsettling.
To the right of the room, on the southern wall, a ghastly body hung, arms nailed to the was a shock finding something like this in Ludwig's basement. Ivan was expecting to find solid evidence of England's disappearance, not a literal corpse hung from a wall. Despite how sadistic this was, Ivan wasn't phased by it. Death happens. Horrible awful things happen to people. He'd seen it. He'd felt it. It's just what it is. Humans are just like the rest of the world - perishable.
Ivan wanted to take a closer look to see if he could identify the body. Heavy boots stepped across the blood stained concrete as he got face to face with the mystery cadaver. Its clothes were tattered and ripped from its body, and bits of skin were missing. Its face, throat, stomach, arms, and legs all exposed muscle, with a few bones, and organs haphazardly displayed in the torso cavity. Ivan closed in, and under the dim basement light, picked up its face in his hands. The hair was matted with blood and half of the scalp was missing, but Ivan could identify a blonde color. A single eyebrow remained on the mutilated face. Ivan inched closer, nose almost touching the body. That eyebrow was familiar… and with the hair…His eyes grew wide.
Holy shit. This was Arthur.
Just as Ivan put the two together, the sockets of Arthur's eyes flashed open. The sudden appearance of England's green eyes staring at Russia scared the shit out of him as he jumped back, throwing his hands to the side.
"Boji moy! You're supposed to be dead!" Ivan heaved over and held his chest, trying to regain his composure after Arthur's stupid stunt. He looked back up to meet England's eyes. Once he confirmed that his mind was in fact not playing tricks on him, Ivan took a deep breath and straightened up. How was this even possible?
Stooped, yet fascinated, Ivan leaned in to examine England's body. He had sworn that the body wasn't breathing, but Ivan was wrong. It was faint, so faint that one would miss it if they weren't looking for it, but it was there. A slight, pathetic heave every few seconds.
"Wow… I can't believe you're still breathing. " Ivan let out a low chuckle. As perplexing as all of this was, Ivan was fascinated by the sight of it. He knew that countries had the ability to prolong life even when experiencing extreme trauma, but he'd never seen anything like this.
"Can you feel anything?"
No response. Just empty eyes.
"I'll take that as a maybe," Russia snorted to himself. Everything made sense now. He had found England. Found out why Ludwig was acting weird. And it was all just too convenient. Everything he needed to wrap up accusations and investigations was right here in front of him. Ivan nodded his head in approval and turned around to look at the rest of the room.
Well, seeing as England wasn't going anywhere, Ivan thought he might as well poke around and find out what the hell Ludwig was up to. Afterall, keeping Arthur in a basement was out of character for him. Maybe the German lost his marbles after his brother died. Ivan spotted the bed and dresser across the way and decided to poke around at it.
His foot pushed aside a few children's sensory toys as he made his way over. Odd choice for basement attire but Russia shrugged it off, he was more interested in the pictures on the wall that were becoming visible.
It almost felt like a shrine when Russia got a good look at all the images. The wall was covered in photos of the Beilschmidt brothers. Some of them were relatively new, and some were over 100 years old. On top of the dresser lay diaries, Prussia's diaries to be exact. His name was gold leafed on the bottom of each book, along with the years.
"Geez, this guy needs to let go of this" Ivan muttered as he picked up a book and flipped through it. None of it interested him, so he carelessly tossed it aside. To Ivan's right was a freshly made bed with clean sheets and a hamper. Ivan's interest was caught by the clothes inside the basket.
He reached his hand in and pulled out a shirt, and god did it fucking stink. Ivan had to stop himself from gagging. Not only did the shirt reek, but it was also damp with blood. Now that was interesting. He looked from the shirt to England back to the shirt again, before holding it out to the clump of flesh on the wall.
"You know who's blood this is, Brit? Is it yours?"
All he got was a pathetic attempt at gurgling and choking on blood. Ivan rolled his eyes and threw the shirt back into the hamper. It didn't matter whose blood it was because it wasn't his problem.
Ivan sighed as he placed his hands on his hips and panned around the room again. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting, he was able to make out a dark stain on the floor. He followed the streak with his eyes. In the darkest corner, next to Arthur, was a pile of dubious shapes.
Curious to what it was, and feeling silly he hadn't seen it earlier, Russia followed it. The gurgling noise from England got a bit more frantic as he got closer.
"Oh would you shut up," Ivan called to Arthur. "Save your energy." Ivan moved past England and crouched to the ground, squinting into the darkness to see what it was.
The gasping from England got louder and Ivan turned over his shoulder "I told you to shut up!"
Ivan snarled and turned back toward the pile. His eyes were starting to make out familiar shapes.. A boot...some pants.. a hand…silver hair… holy shit. These were bodies. Ivan snorted in disbelief. What a plot twist. It explained the smell. Ivan rocked black on his heels, just dumbfounded. Why were these here? This was so out of character for Ludwig.
Maybe all of this was just some sick twisted way for Ludwig to cope. Ivan glanced back up at England. That didn't explain why the Brit was here. No….there was a piece missing. Ivan didn't know Ludwig all that well, but it was common knowledge that Germany hated violence. Maybe England found something out….
"Hey you."
Green eyes snapped back to Ivan as he pushed himself off the floor and wiped his hands on his coat.
"What the fuck is going on here?"
Arthur only choked on blood. Ivan didn't know what he was expecting, asking Arthur for any help. He needed to try a different approach.
"Can you blink?"
Half an eyelid glazed over, the other eye just disappeared in the darkness of the socket before returning. Ugh. It wasn't exactly a blink, and it made Ivan shudder, but it will do.
"Close enough" A small sigh. Ivan felt like this was going to take a while. "Blink for yes, don't blink for no, okay?"
Eyes rolled in and back. Gross but… at least England's brain was working and he could understand Ivan.
"Do you know what's going on here?"
The green eyes flashed in and out.
Okay….what to ask next? Ivan glanced around the room, eyes returning to the bodies. Ah, that.
"Is Ludwig murdering people?"
Ivan leaned in, expecting England to blink again, but the eyes didn't flinch.
"I asked if Ludwig is murdering people. Do I need to ask again?"
The same blank stare. Ivan scoffed in wasn't helping.
"So then he's not murdering people?"
Russia meant it as a rhetorical question, but Arthur blinked.
Ivan pinched the bridge of his nose. "So you're telling me that these corpses, right here" Ivan pointed to the mangled bodies "Just walked into the basement and died?"
Another blink
Ivan sighed as he rolled his head back in annoyance. What in the haunted house hell was going on.
"Lets try something else then. Did you see what happened to these bodies?"
Arthur's eyes flashed in and out again.
"Alright…" Ivan took a deep breath. He didn't like that these answers weren't straightforward. Something about it felt ominous. "Were they attacked by something?"
Arthur blinked again.
"Were you attacked by the same thing?"
Another blink. Arthur's answer made Russia uneasy, causing him to look over his shoulder. Was he sure the room was empty? His eyes darted back and forth between England and the rest of the basement. It was just the two of them. He slowly turned his head back forward, unsure if he trusted his eyes.
"Is it…the thing that attacked you…is that somewhere in the house?" Ivan felt his heart start to pick up and his breath hitch. Please, for the love of god, say no.
Arthur blinked yes.
Ivan sucked in a shaky breath. "...where is it?"
Before Arthur could respond, Ivan felt something grab his ankle. Russia yelped and jumped back, kicking his foot frantically to get It off. His head swung around wildly to see what grabbed him but there was nothing there. His face shot back up to look at England, heart racing.
"Where is it!?
Arthur's eyes disappearing into his sockets was not the answer Ivan wanted. It was time to go. Now.
Russia's feet scrambled against the floor and booked it to the basement door. He didn't know what was in there, and he wasn't about to find out. Ivan grabbed the handle of the basement door and pulled it shut fast behind him as he ran up the stairs. Except, Russia had destroyed the latch on the door, and with nothing to hold it closed, the wood bounced right back open. Ivan looked behind as he ran, heart pounding.
A gaunt figure stood at the doorway.
Shit! Ivan didn't take the time to see who it was. He picked up his pace as he approached the higher door. Once he was past the second basement door, he tried to slam it shut. Like the last lock, this door's latch was broken.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! Ivan pushed his weight against the door to keep it closed, searching for anything he could use to block it from opening. All he could reach was a chair. He shifted his weight to try to grab it. Bad move. The thing on the other side slammed its weight against the door, causing Ivan to lose his balance. He toppled into the kitchen chairs and tried to scramble off the furniture, eyes glued to the door that was now starting to open. He needed to think of something quick. Ivan reached into his coat and pulled out his pistol, aiming at the creaking door. His hands shook as he held his breath, waiting for whatever was down there to show its face.
The weak light from the basement faintly illuminated the figure in the doorway. Ivan's finger squeezed the trigger.
BANG!
The shot rang through his ears and echoed off the wall. Ivan's eyes widened as he watched the body stagger, stop, and then lift its head. Two glowing eyes stared back at him.
Oh fuck no….
A blood-curdling shriek cut the air in half. It caused Ivan to drop his pistol and cover his ears, face wincing. When the thing's mouth finally closed, it locked eyes with Ivan. He felt his blood pumping through his ears as he scrambled off the ground. Chairs were thrown aside as he rushed to the nearest exit he could find. Things crashed on the floor in a frenzy while he booked it to the sliding backyard door, throwing aside the curtains that were blocking the light. Ivan shielded his face from the bright sunlight, head turning back. It was such a stark contrast from the darkness of the home.
Ivan couldn't help it. As the light flooded the kitchen, his eyes caught sight of the body behind him. It was a person, or at least as close to a person it could be. There was hair, hands, and feet and a face. But that's as far as it got. The light highlighted pockets of discolored sagging skin. Sunken holes replaced where the eyes and mouth should have been. Its body was thin and bloodless. The skin clung to the cadaver's bones, giving it a skeletal appearance. But there were a few things that were unmistakable. The white hair, the cross around its neck. Russia's eyes grew wide at the realization that he was looking at Gilbert. Gilbert, who was pronounced dead two months ago. Gilbert, who was supposed to be in a cemetery a few miles away from here. Gilbert, who was supposed to be rotting away for the bugs. Gilbert, who was now approaching Ivan the way a predator approaches its prey.
Ivan's hands fumbled with the lock on the door as he pressed himself up on the glass, trying to stay as far away from Prussia as he could. The two of them were locked in a nauseating gaze. Prussia's shoulders hunched forward, body twisting in ways unnatural for the living. Gilbert's eyes flashed as his boots pounced off the floor. Ivan barely escaped Prussia's spiny hands as he slid open the door to escape.
Ivan burst outside into the backyard, looking behind him as Gilbert picked his body off the ground. He was so focused on the moving corpse that he wasn't watching where he was going. Ivans foot ran straight into a wooden plant bed, causing Ivan to trip and crash into a compost bin. He felt a searing pain shoot up his leg as he tumbled into the dirt, the compost bin toppling over him, spraying soil everywhere. Ivan thrashed around onto his back to get the bin off him when his attention was caught by the contents of the bin. As the soil spilled over, the top of a skull was barely visible at the bottom of the barrel.
Oh shit…
Gilbert's corpse was faster than Ivan had taken it for. In the few seconds it took for Ivan to push off the compost, Prussia was on top of him. Ivan wheezed in surprise and raised his arm in defense as Gilbert's hands slashed into Ivan's legs. Ivan yelped in pain and tried to kick the cadaver off him. He swore he was landing every kick, but Prussia's bony hands had latched onto Ivan's skin. The two of them were in a mangled mess of blood as Gilbert started to tear into Ivan's main arteries in his thighs. Ivan seethed in pain and tried to drag his body towards the garden gate. On the wooden fence next to the latch was a collection of garden tools. Ivan just needed to reach one of them…
Ivan howled as Gilbert started to claw up his body. Those soulless eyes held horrors Ivan had only read about. Its mouth barred its ghastly blood stained teeth. The terror made Ivan struggle harder to kick the Thing off of him, but it wasn't working. Tears squeezed out of Ivan's eyes as his jaw clenched from pain and panic. Every kick and every struggle only caused those skeleton hands to pierce deeper into Ivan.
Gilbert was now in Ivan's stomach. Russia heaved through his teeth and used one hand to hold back Gilbert's pallid head. This made Gilbert shriek, causing the Russian to yell out in pain from the high pitched ringing. Ivan was getting closer to the gate, he was almost there. His other hand desperately reached for the hanging pruners as he fought to keep Gilbert's head off him. Ivans fingers barely brushed the handle. Gritting his teeth, Ivan's eyes darted between Gilbert and the shears. This can't be it. This wasn't the end. It couldn't be. Ivan struggled to grab the shears next to the gate latch. He had to get them this time. He was so close…
Trying not to take his eyes off Prussia, Ivan gave a good solid kick to push himself up to the pruners. Ivan missed, his hand catching the latch instead. The force of Ivan's body being thrown against the wood caused the fence to shake open the gate. Ivan's head slammed into the ground, his hand holding back Gilbert slipping. Ivan's eyes widened as he looked up. Directly above him were the pruning shears. While Ivan's gaze was distracted, Gilbert grabbed hold of his chest and thrust Russia's body into the fence. The force into the frail wood jolted the fence and disrupted the shears on the wall. Before Ivan could react, the pruning shears plummeted down towards his face. The metal hit Ivan's eye, squishing on impact.
That was the last thing Ivan heard before blacking out underneath Gilbert's gnashing body.
Ludwig fumbled to get his keys out when he got home. It was later than normal and he was eager to see his brother. After wrestling to find the house key, he went to unlock the front door, only to find that the door was already unlocked. Ludwig froze in his tracks, a lump in his throat starting to grow. Someone had broken in. He felt his heart beat out of his chest as his hands carefully and silently pushed open the front door. He was quiet as he set down his bag.
"Hello?" He called out into the darkness of his home. No response. That didn't make Ludwig feel any better. Ludwig carefully stepped into his living room and flicked the light on. The glow from the living room light illuminated the kitchen and dining area. Germany's heart dropped into his stomach the moment he saw the mess of kitchen chairs on the floor. He thickly swallowed and crept towards the disheaved mess, eyes darting back and forth in case someone was hiding.
Ludwig's body seized when he rounded the corner and saw that the basement door was wide open with broken locks on the floor.
"No no no no no" he whimpered under his breath as panic started to settle in. He felt that familiar feeling of loss creep up and tried to swallow it down as he pushed past the mangled mess of chairs.
"Gilbert?" He cried out into the stairway of the basement. Seeing the basement light flickering through the bottom doorway only made Ludwig more stressed as he descended. "Gilbert, are you there?"
When there wasn't a response, he picked the pace up, pushing up the slightly ajar door into the basement. Germany's head swung in a scared panic as he tried to find his brother.
"Gilbert! Please. I'm home! Come out!" he begged as he started to search the basement, getting more frantic when each place he checked was empty. His hands threw aside covers, threw aside the hamper, pulled out all the chairs at the table, dug through the pile of corpses. Ludwig's panic was squeezing out of him as his eyes teared up. He found Prussia's journal carelessly tossed on the floor. Ludwig picked it up and hugged it tightly between his chest as he turned around in the room. There was a mix of anger and fear. Someone had broken in and taken Prussia.
Ludwig bit his lip, trying to regain control over his emotions. If the dining chairs were a mess, it meant Prussia attacked the intruder upstairs, right? Right. He gave a slight nod. That's right. Ludwig set down the book, took a deep breath, and then ran back up the stairs towards the dining room.
He had been so distracted by the open basement door that he completely missed the glass door being wide open. He stopped in his tracks when he felt the breeze brush past his face, stomach turning.
No… NO!
Germany's feet scrambled out into the yard, heart beating fast in fear. He couldn't lose his brother again. He felt like he was going to throw up when he saw the toppled compost bins and the streaking of soil and blood that led to the garden gate.
"Gilbert!" He called out, head spinning.
"No no nononono. Gilbert!" Ludwig rushed past the open garden gate and into the back alleyway. He spun around, trying to find something. Anything. This wasn't happening. Not after all they had been through.
"Gilbert!" Ludwigs eyes desperately scanned the alleyway for blood, lip quivering. There was a small trail on the cold ground. As it progressed, the blood started to soak more and more dirt. He followed it past several houses, before it abruptly ended next to a trash can. All that was left was a cold pool of blood and a single, lone military star.
Ludwig shakily sucked in air as he picked up the only thing his brother left behind. As Germany stared at the pin, waves of distress started to beat against him. He felt his chest tighten and couldn't help the tears that were now streaming down his cold face. He shook his head and clutched the small star in his hand.
This couldn't be it. It just couldn't. He needed to find his brother before it was too late. Ludwig was so scared of what would happen to Gilbert if he didn't find him, he couldn't even start to imagine what he'd do if he lost him.
Ludwig tried to dry his face off with his sleeve hem after pocketing the star. He took a deep trembling breath to ground himself. He could do this. All this work he had done for his brother. It wasn't going to end here. Not now. There was too much they had left to do.
