Family Ties [Part 62]
Jul. 19th, 2010 01:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellzabethTitle: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): Mexico, Spain, Romano, Quebec, Russia, America.
Rating: 15
Warnings: Violence, torture in detail.
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.
Mexico had happened upon an interesting sight.
Spain was reaching past Romano towards the television, growling something so angrily that the words all merged into one with the occasional shouted curse. Romano, in turn, had grabbed the taller man around the waist and was digging in his heels to the carpet to stop him from destroying what appeared to be the only non-dented piece of furniture that Mexico's old coloniser had left. The two of them had formed such an odd tangle of limbs that it became hard to tell where one ended and the other began.
She couldn't help it; she cracked up laughing.
This alerted Spain to her presence, who immediately stopped pushing against Romano. "México!" he greeted.
Romano, having lost Spain's body weight to push against, lost his balance and fell to the floor with a loud cluster of Italian swears. "Bastard, don't just move like that!"
He was ignored in favour of Spain giving Mexico a giant hug. "What brings you all the way out here?" he cooed, playing with the ends of her plaits like she was a little kid again. She smacked his hands off.
"I was just coming to check up on you, since I've had more free time since we found the sources of China's blockade." she said, watching Lovino get to his feet with a grumpy expression. Er, more grumpy than usual that is.
Antonio's face fell a little. "Oh, you're in the war aren't you. I forgot."
Mexico's eye twitched. 'You always forget, asshole.' "And you're being indecisive. Again."
Now the ex-empire looked affronted. "What? Of course I've decided! I'm with the WDF!" he beamed at her. Lovino grabbed his ear, eliciting a yelp from the Spaniard.
"Idiot, that's not what you were yelling at the TV five minutes ago!"
"Ay ay ay, Loviiii! That hurts!"
Mexico rolled her eyes skyward. "Romano, did you pick a side for proper then?"
The shorter Nation did not relinquish his grip on his boss' ear when answering. "Course I have, I'm not this idiot here. Besides, my stupid little brother dragged me into it because he has to follow that potato eating bastard everywhere." he grumbled. Spain gave up his struggles and drooped.
"Why does everyone always treat me like this?" he whined. Ignoring him, María rustled around inside her uniform and handed an envelope to Lovino, who looked at it like it might bite him.
"Then you can have that. It's some important info for our next coordinated strike. Don't let papá read it." she explained. South Italy nodded gravely.
"Seriously, I'm older than both of you and get no respect..."
"Also America-" and her mouth gave an odd twist like she'd bitten something sour. "-asked me to give this to Germany, but you're seeing tío Feliciano later right?"
"Sí, and he won't stay away from the sausage chomper for long." Romano agreed, the sour twist near identical. "I'll get it to him."
"What happened to the days when I was boss, huh? Those were good days. Say, do you think the NWO would give me back-"
"Shut up Spain."
---
Quebec twisted the pliers brutally, listening to bones pop out of place and the grunts of barely held in pain. The room echoed when he threw down the metal tool, leaning over where the larger man was strapped into the cold steel chair. No matter how cold Russia made the room with his malice, Quebec was unaffected. The tinge of pink in his cheeks was either due to the cold, or from the rush of adrenaline.
"So, are you ready to give up yet?"
Russia looked up at him, and grinned a bloody smile.
Quebec returned it. "Back to the hockey stick then." he decided, walking over to where he'd leaned the extremely battered, splintered and worn stick. He caressed it lovingly. "Should I put a nail through this thing...?"
He had to leap out of the way when the door slammed open hard enough to indent fully in the wall, the hinges completely snapping and the vibrations shaking the walls of the room. America didn't so much walk as charge into the room, jacket discarded and already rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Quebec couldn't get a word in before America pulled his fist back and punched Russia so hard across the face that his head snapped to the side and stayed there, limply resting against one shoulder for a moment. Knocked out, from a single blow.
Quebec swallowed as the aura of danger from America intensified. "I am guessing that you want a go?"
The overhead lights reflected off America's glasses when he looked at him, obscuring the look in his eyes. The northern nation didn't really need to see it when all his self preservation instincts were screaming to run. "Alright, have fun, I'll be back in two hours." The door couldn't be closed, so he just left it wide open as he walked down the hallway and practically ran the rest of the way to the break room.
This left America and Russia alone in the room, for the first time in nearly two years.
Deliberately slow, the blonde pulled up a chair and waited for Russia to wake up. It took nearly twenty minutes before Ivan blinked his eyes open, slowly moving them to look at his opponent. A smirk curled at his lip.
"Privyet, Amerika."
"Howdy, Russia."
With a sickening crack, Russia re-located his neck, rolling it around with a series of clicks, the smirk not disappearing even for a moment. "It has been a while since we had a chat."
America ran a hand through his hair, sitting back in his chair. "Sure has." he agreed. His face was carefully blank. "Don't suppose Quebec gave you the news."
An eyebrow rose. "Of what?"
The bespectacled Nation held up a hand, ticking off points. "I've beaten your second invasion out of Alaska, and my two new states." The corners of his mouth twitched, and he pulled down his little finger. "Quebec has handled the rest of your men coming down from the arctic circle. Interesting plan, didn't work." Pulling in the thumb, a small smile started to form. "China is dead. Hong Kong and Taiwan, working together as the Republic of China, are now handling things there. You won't be receiving any help from them any more." At the widening of Russia's eyes, the smile stretched wider, showing teeth. He pulled his ring finger down. "As we speak, your Middle Eastern allies are dropping out of the war, and I've got Germany and co steamrolling through Europe." Finally his index finger came down, leaving his middle finger to mockingly wag at Russia.
The smile spread to a full on grin, but not his usual, sunny kind. A nasty caricature of a humorous expression, wide and grotesque, splitting his face in two; that was what this grin was. He leaned in close to Russia, holding up the middle finger. "So I only have one more finger before I can punch your motherfuckin' lights out permanently. What you got ta say to that?"
Russia's grin widened to match America's own, teeth bloody and a few missing.
"Has anyone ever told you you have a lovely smile?"
Notes:
- So that was fun.
- "Tío" is Uncle in Spanish, if I remember correctly.
- Spain has a bad habit of forgetting his colonies entirely or getting them very confused. It's like a permanent Canada effect.
- I should probably note that Quebec is not always like this. As in, he's not usually so bloodthirsty. It's war, Russia's pissed him off. Usually he wouldn't give a fuck. But now it's personal.
Part 63
Characters (in this chapter): Mexico, Spain, Romano, Quebec, Russia, America.
Rating: 15
Warnings: Violence, torture in detail.
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.
Mexico had happened upon an interesting sight.
Spain was reaching past Romano towards the television, growling something so angrily that the words all merged into one with the occasional shouted curse. Romano, in turn, had grabbed the taller man around the waist and was digging in his heels to the carpet to stop him from destroying what appeared to be the only non-dented piece of furniture that Mexico's old coloniser had left. The two of them had formed such an odd tangle of limbs that it became hard to tell where one ended and the other began.
She couldn't help it; she cracked up laughing.
This alerted Spain to her presence, who immediately stopped pushing against Romano. "México!" he greeted.
Romano, having lost Spain's body weight to push against, lost his balance and fell to the floor with a loud cluster of Italian swears. "Bastard, don't just move like that!"
He was ignored in favour of Spain giving Mexico a giant hug. "What brings you all the way out here?" he cooed, playing with the ends of her plaits like she was a little kid again. She smacked his hands off.
"I was just coming to check up on you, since I've had more free time since we found the sources of China's blockade." she said, watching Lovino get to his feet with a grumpy expression. Er, more grumpy than usual that is.
Antonio's face fell a little. "Oh, you're in the war aren't you. I forgot."
Mexico's eye twitched. 'You always forget, asshole.' "And you're being indecisive. Again."
Now the ex-empire looked affronted. "What? Of course I've decided! I'm with the WDF!" he beamed at her. Lovino grabbed his ear, eliciting a yelp from the Spaniard.
"Idiot, that's not what you were yelling at the TV five minutes ago!"
"Ay ay ay, Loviiii! That hurts!"
Mexico rolled her eyes skyward. "Romano, did you pick a side for proper then?"
The shorter Nation did not relinquish his grip on his boss' ear when answering. "Course I have, I'm not this idiot here. Besides, my stupid little brother dragged me into it because he has to follow that potato eating bastard everywhere." he grumbled. Spain gave up his struggles and drooped.
"Why does everyone always treat me like this?" he whined. Ignoring him, María rustled around inside her uniform and handed an envelope to Lovino, who looked at it like it might bite him.
"Then you can have that. It's some important info for our next coordinated strike. Don't let papá read it." she explained. South Italy nodded gravely.
"Seriously, I'm older than both of you and get no respect..."
"Also America-" and her mouth gave an odd twist like she'd bitten something sour. "-asked me to give this to Germany, but you're seeing tío Feliciano later right?"
"Sí, and he won't stay away from the sausage chomper for long." Romano agreed, the sour twist near identical. "I'll get it to him."
"What happened to the days when I was boss, huh? Those were good days. Say, do you think the NWO would give me back-"
"Shut up Spain."
---
Quebec twisted the pliers brutally, listening to bones pop out of place and the grunts of barely held in pain. The room echoed when he threw down the metal tool, leaning over where the larger man was strapped into the cold steel chair. No matter how cold Russia made the room with his malice, Quebec was unaffected. The tinge of pink in his cheeks was either due to the cold, or from the rush of adrenaline.
"So, are you ready to give up yet?"
Russia looked up at him, and grinned a bloody smile.
Quebec returned it. "Back to the hockey stick then." he decided, walking over to where he'd leaned the extremely battered, splintered and worn stick. He caressed it lovingly. "Should I put a nail through this thing...?"
He had to leap out of the way when the door slammed open hard enough to indent fully in the wall, the hinges completely snapping and the vibrations shaking the walls of the room. America didn't so much walk as charge into the room, jacket discarded and already rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Quebec couldn't get a word in before America pulled his fist back and punched Russia so hard across the face that his head snapped to the side and stayed there, limply resting against one shoulder for a moment. Knocked out, from a single blow.
Quebec swallowed as the aura of danger from America intensified. "I am guessing that you want a go?"
The overhead lights reflected off America's glasses when he looked at him, obscuring the look in his eyes. The northern nation didn't really need to see it when all his self preservation instincts were screaming to run. "Alright, have fun, I'll be back in two hours." The door couldn't be closed, so he just left it wide open as he walked down the hallway and practically ran the rest of the way to the break room.
This left America and Russia alone in the room, for the first time in nearly two years.
Deliberately slow, the blonde pulled up a chair and waited for Russia to wake up. It took nearly twenty minutes before Ivan blinked his eyes open, slowly moving them to look at his opponent. A smirk curled at his lip.
"Privyet, Amerika."
"Howdy, Russia."
With a sickening crack, Russia re-located his neck, rolling it around with a series of clicks, the smirk not disappearing even for a moment. "It has been a while since we had a chat."
America ran a hand through his hair, sitting back in his chair. "Sure has." he agreed. His face was carefully blank. "Don't suppose Quebec gave you the news."
An eyebrow rose. "Of what?"
The bespectacled Nation held up a hand, ticking off points. "I've beaten your second invasion out of Alaska, and my two new states." The corners of his mouth twitched, and he pulled down his little finger. "Quebec has handled the rest of your men coming down from the arctic circle. Interesting plan, didn't work." Pulling in the thumb, a small smile started to form. "China is dead. Hong Kong and Taiwan, working together as the Republic of China, are now handling things there. You won't be receiving any help from them any more." At the widening of Russia's eyes, the smile stretched wider, showing teeth. He pulled his ring finger down. "As we speak, your Middle Eastern allies are dropping out of the war, and I've got Germany and co steamrolling through Europe." Finally his index finger came down, leaving his middle finger to mockingly wag at Russia.
The smile spread to a full on grin, but not his usual, sunny kind. A nasty caricature of a humorous expression, wide and grotesque, splitting his face in two; that was what this grin was. He leaned in close to Russia, holding up the middle finger. "So I only have one more finger before I can punch your motherfuckin' lights out permanently. What you got ta say to that?"
Russia's grin widened to match America's own, teeth bloody and a few missing.
"Has anyone ever told you you have a lovely smile?"
Notes:
- So that was fun.
- "Tío" is Uncle in Spanish, if I remember correctly.
- Spain has a bad habit of forgetting his colonies entirely or getting them very confused. It's like a permanent Canada effect.
- I should probably note that Quebec is not always like this. As in, he's not usually so bloodthirsty. It's war, Russia's pissed him off. Usually he wouldn't give a fuck. But now it's personal.
Part 63
no subject
Date: 2010-07-19 03:23 pm (UTC)Ah, that's fine. When he didn't get mentioned I just went into INSTANT PANIC mode.
Also, most of my reason for commenting again here is so I can use this icon, please excuse me.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-20 12:02 am (UTC)Lol I am enjoying this new found power to instill terror in people just by not mentioning someone. :D
/stares, /drools.
:D