Family Ties [Part 31]
Apr. 5th, 2010 12:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellzabethTitle: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): WDF plus another surprise. <3
Rating: 12
Warnings: The British isles sibs are big fat hypocrites when they say America is trigger happy.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
"So, the kinetic hand-held incendiaries project is going smoothly, then?" England asked, regrouped at the base and looking quite miffed that he'd been dragged back from the ocean for a mere status update. The "war room", as America insisted it was called, was covered in maps and diagrams and latest models for weapons and planes and tanks.
"If you mean the Pocket-Sun-Bombs, then yes." Mexico fiddled with a braid of hers, pointing out the charts. "Trust Al's people to come up with a way to physically hold fire and throw it at people."
"Doesn't sound too bad to me." Ireland added, reading the information Egypt had sent them from the Middle East. "I hear it superheats the air around it to cook everyone nearby and blow off doors and that lark."
"To 300 degrees." Mexico confirmed. "Celsius."
Wales entered, laptop under one arm. "I think we have something to combat those silent guns." He was smiling, which of course prompted everyone to lean in to peer at his laptop screen when he placed it on the table.
Ireland tilted her head at the picture. "I see a tank, Darren."
"Well done, you have working eyes." England snarked absently, making his sister hit him on the shoulder. "What's different about it? They'll have anti-tank guns being equipped with the true-silencers any day now, and that's with out intel on a two-week lag."
Wales smiled triumphantly, mousing over to an .avi file. "Watch this."
The same tank as earlier trundled through a field in Shropshire. The camera panned over to show an anti-tank gun, ready to fire. Turning back to the tank, it only took two seconds for the sharpshooter to fire, sending bullets whizzing towards the expensive machinery.
They all abruptly turned in different directions, either shooting to the side or the air or getting stuck in the ground. The image cut to show the bullet holes in the floor a whole 5 feet from the edge of the tank.
An awed silence descended on the room.
"Was that a forcefield?!" María squealed, shock morphing into excitement.
"Holy shit." England gaped, running a hand through his hair and straightening. "Holy shit!"
Ireland gave a delighted sort of squeak, and replayed the video to watch it again. "Dar, you are my new favourite brother until North wakes up."
"Thanks, I try." Wales grinned.
Gravel crunched on the driveway outside, Canada and America's Jeep pulling up. Maria jumped up and ran out of the room and into the hall, leaving the rest to congratulate Wales.
"I am going to buy you all the pints you can drink." England promised, beaming. "And then some! I'll swear off making sheep jokes for the next one hundred years!"
Wales folded his arms. "Two hundred."
England frowned slightly. "One-Fifty."
"One-sixty."
"... done."
The North American trio re-entered the room with faces so solemn that it crushed the atmosphere instantly. Kumajiro wandered in from the hallway where it had been waiting for Canada, and the Nation picked him up and buried his face in his fur for comfort. America's glasses reflected the light so the expression in his eyes was hidden. The downturn of his lips was hint enough. England felt something heavy catch in his throat.
"What's... what's wrong?" he asked. Alfred drew in a deep breath through his nose.
"We've got good news and... bad news. Really bad news." His hand went self-consciously to his head injury. "The good news is that we're holding the lines up in Alaska. NWO's not advancing any further onto my land."
Wales looked wary of what came next. "Yes... and what's the bad news."
America clenched his fists. Canada spoke instead. "We... we saw Scotland and France."
A beat. "Why's that bad?" Aine asked. "Did they see you?"
Matthew shook his head. "No, but... they've done something horrible to them." Kumajiro was starting to look quite uncomfortable with how tight he was being held. "There were... burns, all around France's neck and probably more underneath his clothes. He looked in pain when he moved."
"And with Scotland," America finally spoke, face unusually dark. "the lights are on, but nobody's home." He tapped his head pointedly, then hissed when he hit his injury. The facts of the mission were rattled off next, England sinking into a chair once the full description of what had happened to the other Nations was described. Ireland was biting her thumbnail, eyes glaring hate into space. Wales was gripping the edge of the conference table. Canada had sat heavily on another chair, Mexico prying his hands off the poor polar bear before he choked him.
"... France must have been in his senses, at least, from how he was acting." America finished up. "He seemed to be directing Scotland away from us. I think he could see Canada."
England's expression was stony. "This isn't like what he did to North. It's different. North's lucid usually, and acts different when he's, for lack of a better word, possessed." He made a frustrated sort of growl. "I wish we could get our satellites over them to see what the hell's going on. I don't want my people crossing the boarder just in case it sparks something."
"Now what..." Wales murmured. America shrugged helplessly.
"We keep going, I guess. But with China on Russia's side and France most definitely being forced to use his nukes if Russia so wishes, we're outnumbered again."
"Devo eu falar agora?"
"Está ligada já, conversa!"
The WDF turned to look at the computer screen of Wales' laptop curiously.
"Olá!" Portugal smiled, waving in greeting. Brazil peered over his shoulder at the rest of them. "Can you hear me? Are you sure it's on, Brazil?"
"Ga-Gab-?!" England stuttered, eyes wide. Portugal waved.
"Ah, you are there!" he grinned toothily. "So cute when you're flustered." This comment did nothing to help the slight blush in England's cheeks. "So, I heard you needed back up?"
Notes:
- Kinetic hand-held incendiaries - I wish I was kidding.
- Forcefields - There is actually a project being developed by the British Ministry of Defense to create tanks with an EMP shield or the like. Since I garnered this information from my older cousin (I have a very military family. >>) I have no idea if it's accurate or if he's just messing with me for shits and giggles, but going by Rule of Cool and the fact that it's been proved war forces amazing leaps forward in technology, yes, forcefields.
- Comparing to his brother's, Port's empire wasn't exactly huge. However, Brazil has a population of 192,728,000. That is more than Russia. Sooo yeah.
- Oh yeah, and for those unaware of how hard I ship England and Port (curse you Cande) allow me to show you why. Longest lasting marriage, hahaha.Yes I know the Auld Alliance was earlier sftu they had a break up period.
- Also, I'm aware that it's extremely late to add this now, and I will go back and add it to the previous chapters too, but Aine's name is pronounced "Awn-ye". Like Anya with an Irish accent. Arthur probably butchers the pronunciation no end.
Part 32
Characters (in this chapter): WDF plus another surprise. <3
Rating: 12
Warnings: The British isles sibs are big fat hypocrites when they say America is trigger happy.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
"So, the kinetic hand-held incendiaries project is going smoothly, then?" England asked, regrouped at the base and looking quite miffed that he'd been dragged back from the ocean for a mere status update. The "war room", as America insisted it was called, was covered in maps and diagrams and latest models for weapons and planes and tanks.
"If you mean the Pocket-Sun-Bombs, then yes." Mexico fiddled with a braid of hers, pointing out the charts. "Trust Al's people to come up with a way to physically hold fire and throw it at people."
"Doesn't sound too bad to me." Ireland added, reading the information Egypt had sent them from the Middle East. "I hear it superheats the air around it to cook everyone nearby and blow off doors and that lark."
"To 300 degrees." Mexico confirmed. "Celsius."
Wales entered, laptop under one arm. "I think we have something to combat those silent guns." He was smiling, which of course prompted everyone to lean in to peer at his laptop screen when he placed it on the table.
Ireland tilted her head at the picture. "I see a tank, Darren."
"Well done, you have working eyes." England snarked absently, making his sister hit him on the shoulder. "What's different about it? They'll have anti-tank guns being equipped with the true-silencers any day now, and that's with out intel on a two-week lag."
Wales smiled triumphantly, mousing over to an .avi file. "Watch this."
The same tank as earlier trundled through a field in Shropshire. The camera panned over to show an anti-tank gun, ready to fire. Turning back to the tank, it only took two seconds for the sharpshooter to fire, sending bullets whizzing towards the expensive machinery.
They all abruptly turned in different directions, either shooting to the side or the air or getting stuck in the ground. The image cut to show the bullet holes in the floor a whole 5 feet from the edge of the tank.
An awed silence descended on the room.
"Was that a forcefield?!" María squealed, shock morphing into excitement.
"Holy shit." England gaped, running a hand through his hair and straightening. "Holy shit!"
Ireland gave a delighted sort of squeak, and replayed the video to watch it again. "Dar, you are my new favourite brother until North wakes up."
"Thanks, I try." Wales grinned.
Gravel crunched on the driveway outside, Canada and America's Jeep pulling up. Maria jumped up and ran out of the room and into the hall, leaving the rest to congratulate Wales.
"I am going to buy you all the pints you can drink." England promised, beaming. "And then some! I'll swear off making sheep jokes for the next one hundred years!"
Wales folded his arms. "Two hundred."
England frowned slightly. "One-Fifty."
"One-sixty."
"... done."
The North American trio re-entered the room with faces so solemn that it crushed the atmosphere instantly. Kumajiro wandered in from the hallway where it had been waiting for Canada, and the Nation picked him up and buried his face in his fur for comfort. America's glasses reflected the light so the expression in his eyes was hidden. The downturn of his lips was hint enough. England felt something heavy catch in his throat.
"What's... what's wrong?" he asked. Alfred drew in a deep breath through his nose.
"We've got good news and... bad news. Really bad news." His hand went self-consciously to his head injury. "The good news is that we're holding the lines up in Alaska. NWO's not advancing any further onto my land."
Wales looked wary of what came next. "Yes... and what's the bad news."
America clenched his fists. Canada spoke instead. "We... we saw Scotland and France."
A beat. "Why's that bad?" Aine asked. "Did they see you?"
Matthew shook his head. "No, but... they've done something horrible to them." Kumajiro was starting to look quite uncomfortable with how tight he was being held. "There were... burns, all around France's neck and probably more underneath his clothes. He looked in pain when he moved."
"And with Scotland," America finally spoke, face unusually dark. "the lights are on, but nobody's home." He tapped his head pointedly, then hissed when he hit his injury. The facts of the mission were rattled off next, England sinking into a chair once the full description of what had happened to the other Nations was described. Ireland was biting her thumbnail, eyes glaring hate into space. Wales was gripping the edge of the conference table. Canada had sat heavily on another chair, Mexico prying his hands off the poor polar bear before he choked him.
"... France must have been in his senses, at least, from how he was acting." America finished up. "He seemed to be directing Scotland away from us. I think he could see Canada."
England's expression was stony. "This isn't like what he did to North. It's different. North's lucid usually, and acts different when he's, for lack of a better word, possessed." He made a frustrated sort of growl. "I wish we could get our satellites over them to see what the hell's going on. I don't want my people crossing the boarder just in case it sparks something."
"Now what..." Wales murmured. America shrugged helplessly.
"We keep going, I guess. But with China on Russia's side and France most definitely being forced to use his nukes if Russia so wishes, we're outnumbered again."
"Devo eu falar agora?"
"Está ligada já, conversa!"
The WDF turned to look at the computer screen of Wales' laptop curiously.
"Olá!" Portugal smiled, waving in greeting. Brazil peered over his shoulder at the rest of them. "Can you hear me? Are you sure it's on, Brazil?"
"Ga-Gab-?!" England stuttered, eyes wide. Portugal waved.
"Ah, you are there!" he grinned toothily. "So cute when you're flustered." This comment did nothing to help the slight blush in England's cheeks. "So, I heard you needed back up?"
Notes:
- Kinetic hand-held incendiaries - I wish I was kidding.
- Forcefields - There is actually a project being developed by the British Ministry of Defense to create tanks with an EMP shield or the like. Since I garnered this information from my older cousin (I have a very military family. >>) I have no idea if it's accurate or if he's just messing with me for shits and giggles, but going by Rule of Cool and the fact that it's been proved war forces amazing leaps forward in technology, yes, forcefields.
- Comparing to his brother's, Port's empire wasn't exactly huge. However, Brazil has a population of 192,728,000. That is more than Russia. Sooo yeah.
- Oh yeah, and for those unaware of how hard I ship England and Port (curse you Cande) allow me to show you why. Longest lasting marriage, hahaha.
- Also, I'm aware that it's extremely late to add this now, and I will go back and add it to the previous chapters too, but Aine's name is pronounced "Awn-ye". Like Anya with an Irish accent. Arthur probably butchers the pronunciation no end.
Part 32
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-04-05 01:37 pm (UTC)And yes sob I don't do nearly enough bawww stuff with them orz. I'm so glad you like it and thank you for commenting. <333 I appreciate it. XD
no subject
Date: 2010-04-05 01:42 pm (UTC)Bawwwwwww. I ended up listening to the song (Found a good quality version on YouTube yay 8D) and now I'm imagining France singing this alone in a cell while holding unconscious Scotland. AND IT'S WAY TOO EASY TO IMAGINE.
no subject
Date: 2010-04-05 01:48 pm (UTC)O-OMG THIS. THIIIIS. The angst. There is clearly not enough angst where France is the one concerned over Scotland and not the other way around. :|a AND THAT IMAGE. IT'S WAY TOO CLEAR orz. fff now I have to draw that too bawww. ;A;
no subject
Date: 2010-04-05 01:52 pm (UTC)Oh yes, draw it~ =A=b *will die of angst but it's worth it*
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Date: 2010-04-05 02:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-05 03:04 pm (UTC)WRITE IT/WORKING ON IT omg it's not fair how you inspire meeee
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Date: 2010-04-05 06:24 pm (UTC)NEXT CHAPTER, BE PATIENT.You love it. <3