Family Ties [Part 59]
Jul. 7th, 2010 11:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellzabethTitle: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): France, Scotland, Ukraine, Russia, Quebec
Rating: 12
Warnings: Injuries, French swearing, my poor knowledge of the French language in general. >>
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.
Everything hurt. It was like he'd been run over by a car, or hit by a train, or something of that manner of speed and ruthlessness. His bones ached, twinged and burned. Moving was possible, but probably not recommended, from the way his head was spinning even though he was lying down.
Something touched his injured leg, and he let out a hissing swear.
"Sorry, sorry. Yer awake now?"
France squinted down at where Scotland was, looking up worriedly at him. They were in the back seat of a black car that was vaguely familiar, and the red head had several bandages in his hands, crouching just outside the car, using the door as a wind shield. Behind him, a field of wheat was being cut by machines, sending dust and pollen into the air to be whipped about in a cloud. It was rather pretty and idyllic, if it weren't for the smell of iron the car was soaked in.
"What..." France started. He became aware of blood in his mouth, and spat. He'd lost a tooth, cracked another. Wonderful.
"I was kinda hopin' ye'd tell me." Scotland shrugged sheepishly. "I drove as far from NWO headquarters I could without crossing the border since that'd be hard when ye're in this state. But, well, I can't say I know how we got to Russia in the first place."
Blue eyes stared. Oh. He didn't remember. "You really don't remember? Nothing at all?"
Scotland shifted uncomfortably. "Last thing I remember is gettin'... set on... fire." he got paler at the very thought of it, and shook his head to clear it. "And then I'm suddenly in an office and wearin' these clothes and watchin' you get the shit kicked out of ye by that vodka swillin', ice crunchin' Russian bastard." A shrug. "I did what I had to and got ye out of there. No matter what's goin' on I'm not havin' ye hurt like that."
France sighed and leaned his head back on the seat. "We are in very deep merde, mon coeur." A sudden crack sounded, and the blonde Nation gave a yelp.
"Sorry, sorry!" Scotland raised his hands from where he'd popped France's knee back into place. "I know ye don't heal as fast as me, but ye won't heal at all if yer knee's outta whack." Francis shot him the hottest glare he could manage at the moment. James recoiled. "Really, we've got time to talk, don't worry."
France gave an irritable sigh, scratching at the itchy bandages on his wrists. Ah yes, these were older ones from before, when Russia had tagged him with the tracking device.
... ah.
This was a problem only highlighted by the arrival of several black cars from directly behind and in front of them, as well as a helicopter overhead. Scotland looked around, wide eyed and panicked, shouting over the roar of the copter blades. "What the fuck is this now?!"
France sucked breath in through his teeth and sat up. "Mon cher, I'm afraid we're not so free as you imagine."
----
Russia shut his cell phone with a snap and a smile. "Caught the little rabbits."
In the plane seat next to him, Ukraine glanced over. "Did they run far?"
"Nyet, only to the border. Now we can focus on other things." Russia leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. Ah private seats. He'd missed this. War was both expensive as well as a good source of income. With China being so generous and giving so much, more than Russia had known he'd had, they could easily afford the war. And with so many troops, fake-out orders were easy to complete, as well as full invasions of usually well guarded places.
But a spot of land without a country was often not very well defended.
Ukraine made an odd sort of sound, an intake of breath that was nearly a sob. Russia peered curiously at her. Was she finally going to cry for Belarus? He'd thought it impossible.
"Syestra?"
"I'm fine." her lips were a hard line as soon as they'd ceased moving. "I'm fine. This is for Natasha. We can't turn back."
"Are you scared?"
Her hair had gotten a little longer than usual; it brushed her shoulders when she turned to look at him. "Of course I am, Vanya! Down there, there are people who want to kill me. You are so much braver than I am."
Before Russia could reply, the television screen that had them communicate with home command as well as the ground flared into life. On screen appeared a young man with hair that bounced by his chin in curls much like France's, only a shade darker, and a smirk that curled the corner of his lip like a cat that had caught a stunned sparrow.
"Salut! Is this thing on?" he greeted. Ukraine gave a gasp.
"Matvey?!"
"I am getting a little sick of this. Of this," he gestured, a sour look replacing the smirk. "careless use of le nom de mon frére. You of all people 'ave most certainly lost the right to speak it." He drew a deep, calming breath. "You are in Quebecois airspace, et I am going to shoot you down. Comprenez?"
"I wasn't aware that there was anyone in this land anymore." Russia said amiably. "Perhaps we could become friends?"
The very Canada-like boy tapped his chin. "Or, how about I turn you into little chunks in the sky? Of course you 'ave not 'eard of me, I chose not to tell you NWO bastards that I am here." He leaned close to the camera. He had Matthew's eyes too. "Boo."
The plane suddenly shuddered to one side, throwing Ukraine and Russia to the floor. The whole aircraft rolled to the side, then started spinning. Grabbing on to a seat, Russia looked out the window at the smoking remains of the right wing of the plane, as the death spiral got faster and faster, instruments from the cockpit beeping loud enough to nearly drown out the voice of the television, but not quite.
"I suppose now's a good time to tell you we've broken your information scramblers." he laughed, though it was more of a cackle. Ukraine started screaming. "I am Quebec, and I'll see you on the ground."
Notes:
- So yeah, good news and bad news for both NWO and WDF. 8D
- Yes, China has been putting much more money than he should into the war effort. >>;; It's not helping his condition.
- Oh yeah, French notes. "Le nom de mon frére" is "the name of my brother", "merde" is "shit", and "salut" is an informal French greeting, kind of like "yo!" or "sup!"
Part 60
Characters (in this chapter): France, Scotland, Ukraine, Russia, Quebec
Rating: 12
Warnings: Injuries, French swearing, my poor knowledge of the French language in general. >>
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.
Everything hurt. It was like he'd been run over by a car, or hit by a train, or something of that manner of speed and ruthlessness. His bones ached, twinged and burned. Moving was possible, but probably not recommended, from the way his head was spinning even though he was lying down.
Something touched his injured leg, and he let out a hissing swear.
"Sorry, sorry. Yer awake now?"
France squinted down at where Scotland was, looking up worriedly at him. They were in the back seat of a black car that was vaguely familiar, and the red head had several bandages in his hands, crouching just outside the car, using the door as a wind shield. Behind him, a field of wheat was being cut by machines, sending dust and pollen into the air to be whipped about in a cloud. It was rather pretty and idyllic, if it weren't for the smell of iron the car was soaked in.
"What..." France started. He became aware of blood in his mouth, and spat. He'd lost a tooth, cracked another. Wonderful.
"I was kinda hopin' ye'd tell me." Scotland shrugged sheepishly. "I drove as far from NWO headquarters I could without crossing the border since that'd be hard when ye're in this state. But, well, I can't say I know how we got to Russia in the first place."
Blue eyes stared. Oh. He didn't remember. "You really don't remember? Nothing at all?"
Scotland shifted uncomfortably. "Last thing I remember is gettin'... set on... fire." he got paler at the very thought of it, and shook his head to clear it. "And then I'm suddenly in an office and wearin' these clothes and watchin' you get the shit kicked out of ye by that vodka swillin', ice crunchin' Russian bastard." A shrug. "I did what I had to and got ye out of there. No matter what's goin' on I'm not havin' ye hurt like that."
France sighed and leaned his head back on the seat. "We are in very deep merde, mon coeur." A sudden crack sounded, and the blonde Nation gave a yelp.
"Sorry, sorry!" Scotland raised his hands from where he'd popped France's knee back into place. "I know ye don't heal as fast as me, but ye won't heal at all if yer knee's outta whack." Francis shot him the hottest glare he could manage at the moment. James recoiled. "Really, we've got time to talk, don't worry."
France gave an irritable sigh, scratching at the itchy bandages on his wrists. Ah yes, these were older ones from before, when Russia had tagged him with the tracking device.
... ah.
This was a problem only highlighted by the arrival of several black cars from directly behind and in front of them, as well as a helicopter overhead. Scotland looked around, wide eyed and panicked, shouting over the roar of the copter blades. "What the fuck is this now?!"
France sucked breath in through his teeth and sat up. "Mon cher, I'm afraid we're not so free as you imagine."
----
Russia shut his cell phone with a snap and a smile. "Caught the little rabbits."
In the plane seat next to him, Ukraine glanced over. "Did they run far?"
"Nyet, only to the border. Now we can focus on other things." Russia leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. Ah private seats. He'd missed this. War was both expensive as well as a good source of income. With China being so generous and giving so much, more than Russia had known he'd had, they could easily afford the war. And with so many troops, fake-out orders were easy to complete, as well as full invasions of usually well guarded places.
But a spot of land without a country was often not very well defended.
Ukraine made an odd sort of sound, an intake of breath that was nearly a sob. Russia peered curiously at her. Was she finally going to cry for Belarus? He'd thought it impossible.
"Syestra?"
"I'm fine." her lips were a hard line as soon as they'd ceased moving. "I'm fine. This is for Natasha. We can't turn back."
"Are you scared?"
Her hair had gotten a little longer than usual; it brushed her shoulders when she turned to look at him. "Of course I am, Vanya! Down there, there are people who want to kill me. You are so much braver than I am."
Before Russia could reply, the television screen that had them communicate with home command as well as the ground flared into life. On screen appeared a young man with hair that bounced by his chin in curls much like France's, only a shade darker, and a smirk that curled the corner of his lip like a cat that had caught a stunned sparrow.
"Salut! Is this thing on?" he greeted. Ukraine gave a gasp.
"Matvey?!"
"I am getting a little sick of this. Of this," he gestured, a sour look replacing the smirk. "careless use of le nom de mon frére. You of all people 'ave most certainly lost the right to speak it." He drew a deep, calming breath. "You are in Quebecois airspace, et I am going to shoot you down. Comprenez?"
"I wasn't aware that there was anyone in this land anymore." Russia said amiably. "Perhaps we could become friends?"
The very Canada-like boy tapped his chin. "Or, how about I turn you into little chunks in the sky? Of course you 'ave not 'eard of me, I chose not to tell you NWO bastards that I am here." He leaned close to the camera. He had Matthew's eyes too. "Boo."
The plane suddenly shuddered to one side, throwing Ukraine and Russia to the floor. The whole aircraft rolled to the side, then started spinning. Grabbing on to a seat, Russia looked out the window at the smoking remains of the right wing of the plane, as the death spiral got faster and faster, instruments from the cockpit beeping loud enough to nearly drown out the voice of the television, but not quite.
"I suppose now's a good time to tell you we've broken your information scramblers." he laughed, though it was more of a cackle. Ukraine started screaming. "I am Quebec, and I'll see you on the ground."
Notes:
- So yeah, good news and bad news for both NWO and WDF. 8D
- Yes, China has been putting much more money than he should into the war effort. >>;; It's not helping his condition.
- Oh yeah, French notes. "Le nom de mon frére" is "the name of my brother", "merde" is "shit", and "salut" is an informal French greeting, kind of like "yo!" or "sup!"
Part 60
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 10:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 10:35 pm (UTC)Maybe he is? Idk who's immigrated from where anymore the new world is confusing like that.
/actually goes to bed this time she swears.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 10:38 pm (UTC)*pats his head*
Maybe he just copied Vash's badassery/triggerhappypsychomania
no subject
Date: 2010-07-08 02:49 pm (UTC)Boy learns from the best. Though he does have America for a neighbour so maybe he got trigger happy from him?
no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 10:52 pm (UTC)FUCK YEAH, QUEBEC
SO BADASS.
and oh Scotland. ;; Nothing? Nothing at all? Here's to hoping Russia doesn't get to yuo and put nonsense in your head. D8
no subject
Date: 2010-07-08 12:05 pm (UTC)Russia's going to have trouble doing anything since he's doing a downward spiral towards the ground right now.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 11:11 pm (UTC)1. Canada being dead
2. NZ being traumatized
3. NUKES!?!?!
Am expecting epic Scottish rage now.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-08 12:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 11:58 pm (UTC)8D
/loves on Quebec
no subject
Date: 2010-07-08 12:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-08 01:50 am (UTC)Poor Ukraine, she sounds so traumatized ):
THAT DOES IT. QUÉBEC IS NOT ONLY A PIMP, BUT ALSO A BADASS. I LOVE QUÉBEC SO MUCH AT THIS MOMENT.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-08 12:10 pm (UTC)She is, the poor dear. Well, my sympathy for her only extends so far since she WAS the one that did it, but....
HE LOVES YOU TOO. SPREAD L'AMOR POR QUÉBEC~
Boom baby- I mean, look at that!
Date: 2010-07-08 02:08 am (UTC)Hell yes! I love Québec even more now.
NEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOWWWWWRRRRRN BOOOOOOOM
Date: 2010-07-08 12:14 pm (UTC)Keep the love coming, you'll inflate his already huge ego.
Re: NEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOWWWWWRRRRRN BOOOOOOOM
Date: 2010-07-09 12:03 am (UTC)I bet his Ego strokes itself at night. Or at any time of the day, really
no subject
Date: 2010-07-08 02:27 am (UTC)Screw Hong Kong, I want in Québec's pants. /shotWhy are France and Scotland always in trouble? Ffff, I'm beginning to feel real sorry for them naow. >.>
I STILL MISS CANADA THO.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-08 12:17 pm (UTC)How about both? It would be hot. /SHOTSHOTSHOT FOREVERBecause they never know when to quit, that's why. You're only just now feeling sorry for them? I started feeling bad around the time I set the poor lad on fire.
CANADAAAAAAA DDD8
no subject
Date: 2010-07-08 03:36 pm (UTC)YES. THREESOME. YOU ARE MY NEW GOD. /shot by the whole effing armyI'm some sort of semi-sadistic bitch. I thought the setting-on-fire and bamboo torture was amusing, although I sorta felt bad. Now the pity's really setting in.
People who don't know when to quit make the world go 'round. Yes, asschin dude Reed. I'm talking to you >.>
But as for Canada... it was like getting hit by a bludger. /boom headshot!
no subject
Date: 2010-07-08 02:17 pm (UTC)QUÉBEC, WHY SO BADASS? You have got to love that guy!
no subject
Date: 2010-07-08 02:42 pm (UTC)BECAUSE HE HAS INHERITED CANADA'S SECRET BADASSERY. <3333
no subject
Date: 2010-07-08 02:20 pm (UTC)lol good one Scotland. B| ;sldkf booooys you tried your best. But now it's back to the slammer with you. Better luck next time! Just rip that thing out of France's arm geez guys, he'll...he'll heal orz;;;
slfk;lkf QUÉBEC. DAMN SON. You've got balls.
The force is strong in this one :|a /shotno subject
Date: 2010-07-08 02:45 pm (UTC)He tried, bless him, he tried. It's the effort that counts! Maybe just cut off France's arm or something and keep running... too bad it's in his writing hand and all... and right next to an artery...
HON HON HON BITCHES
Become one with Quebec, you will.no subject
Date: 2010-07-09 07:37 am (UTC)I'm sure France and Scotland will escape again, somehow.