Family Ties [Part 77]
Aug. 28th, 2010 07:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellzabethTitle: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Finland, Estonia, Latvia, England, Wales, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Portugal, Afghanistan, Turkey and Greece.
Rating: 12
Warnings: Destroyed cities, Denmark and the Irelands mechagazming.
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.
England would comment some time later that he had never been so happy to see vikings in his entire life.
Sweden carried the startlingly beaten up Estonia past them without much of a second glance. It was Finland who paused and helped Latvia to his feet, patting the boy on the back when he suddenly hugged him around the waist. The Brit siblings stared in stunned amazement at him, the edges of his clothes singed from flames and his beret still miraculously on his head and unharmed.
"So you guys seem healthy enough." he chirped at them, smiling in his usual friendly way.
"I thought you were neutral." was the first thing out of Wales' mouth. Finland gave him a look like he'd inhaled smoke by accident.
"If I'd known about Estonia's problem then I wouldn't have been for so long." he sighed. "Looks like I'm back in it again. Svi technically isn't in the war either, or Norway, but they came along to help out. Denmark's just here for fun." A roll of the eyes, but England's eyebrows rose even further into his hairline than they had before.
"Denmark? Where is he?"
The Fin jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, and around the corner came a pair of headlights, attached to a car.
Or what may have once been a car, but had been tinkered with and modified until it was more like a tank without treads. It even had a moving gun turret and a side door that opened up to show a lot more space inside than one would expect from seeing the outside. The window of the driver's seat rolled down, and Denmark leaned out, waving at the assembled group on the grass. Norway shoved his head back into the car on his way past, making the Dane grumble about hitting his head. He and Estonia disappeared into the back of the armored vehicle. Finland nodded to the others, and lead Latvia inside too.
The remaining siblings ventured over to talk to Denmark, who was making insistent motions to beckon them over.
"Evening folks." he grinned. "Enjoying the fresh air?" England rolled his eyes.
"Cutting to the point, Denmark, what are you and your group going to do next?" he asked, folding his arms. The other blonde looked put out, but shrugged.
"Technically I'm not meant to be here, and nor is Svi or Norge, so we should go home." He pretended to look stern for a moment, but the smile soon cracked on his face again. "But I figure, what the hell, I'm sticking around even if the others don't. Should be fun. Brought along a few volunteers but they're really not meant to be here either but I heard you needed more manpower so, yeah, you can thank me later."
England resisted the strong urge to facepalm. Barely.
"So if you're coming with us, are you bringing this beautiful beastie?" Ireland said, stroking the side of the machine like it was some kind of massive animal, an affectionate smile on her face. Denmark beamed.
"You like her? I call her Vánagandr, isn't she awesome?" he cheered, patting the door.
This time the urge to facepalm was too strong. Trust Ireland to bond with Denmark over such things as massive war machines. Besides him, Wales shook his head as Northern Ireland started inquiring how he'd built the thing. This carried on for a few minutes, before Norway hopped out of the back of the truck.
"How is he?" asked England, not so much out of personal interest as the desire to know what was going on. Norway shook his head.
"I had been told that it was bad, but I didn't know it was that bad." he said in his usual deadpan tones. He gave a side-along look at a fairy that had come to rest on his shoulder. "It seems someone left out some of the details."
"For a laugh, maybe." England couldn't help but smile at the pixie, which giggled like it had just received some kind of compliment rather than an admonishment. "You need to take him to hospital then?"
"Yes, or leave it a few days and take him to a morgue instead." The straight faced delivery made the line a little more than disturbing. But Norway had always been good at that. The shorter Nordic walked past England and tugged on Denmark's ear, forcing him to yelp and interrupting his explanation.
"Listen up, I'm not saying this twice." he frowned at him. "Svi, Finland, Latvia and I are taking Estonia to a hospital. I'll make sure they don't ask questions. In the meanwhile, you take this thing," he kicked the machine, and the Irelands and Denmark made tiny scandalised noises. "and help the rest of them invade Russia. And you will not do anything stupid or die. Clear?"
Denmark pouted at being ordered around, but nodded. "Crystal."
Satisfied, the smaller Nordic turned to ask England. "Can we borrow your car? It's a fair swap."
England shrugged. "Sure, help yourself."
"Score!" cheered Northern Ireland, punching the air. "We get to ride in the beast! I call gun turret!"
"No you bloody well do not!" his sister argued back, and Wales quietly went to usurp the seat himself.
---
Voronezh was probably a very pretty place once.
The white truck they'd "borrowed" trundled through the streets, where people still milled but with their heads down, trying to protect themselves from the flurry of snow that threatened to bury the roads and make them unusable. Not that they were in particularly good condition, for occasionally they'd find evidence of some kind of bomb or riot gone horribly wrong in the form of massive holes and ditches and half-collapsed buildings that nobody had got round to fixing yet. A number of times, Portugal had suggested getting another, more off-road suited vehicle. But then the idea of getting out of the nice warm van came to mind and the idea was immediately dismissed, because none of them were particularly used to snow.
Why were they invading Russia in winter again?
Turkey was driving now, having stronger arms to steer through the mud and ice when it got tough. Afghanistan sat with the map in her lap, looking around the buildings and trying to find landmarks that would help as they couldn't read Cyrillic.
"Hey." Turkey interrupted one of the many silences that had fallen on the group, a frown on his face. "Is that a tank?"
Greece peered over the headrest. "No shit it's a tank."
"No, I mean, that is not a Russian tank."
The four of them stared in wonder at the large tank with the insignia "US Armed Forces" on the side, nicely printed for all to see. They continued staring as a couple of men moved around it, as well as when another tank appeared, rolling up next to it.
"Stop the car." said Portugal, and Turkey did so, at a force which might have been a little excessive. Steeling himself, he opened the door and ignored the hissed protests of the others, walking out into the cold air. The army soldiers paused in their conversations as soon as they saw him, a few of them warily reaching for their guns.
"Hold your fire, I'm not an enemy." Portugal held up his hands to show he was unarmed, though the bulky coat could probably conceal anything. "I'm a Portuguese soldier, Afonso Gabriel Fernandes de Alcântara Henriques dos Anjos." He could see the men exchange looks at his comparatively long name, but that wasn't important. "I have a question to ask."
After a long pause, one of the soldiers lowered his gun. "Alright then, go ahead."
Portugal thanked his lucky stars. "Do any of you have a phone charger I can borrow?"
The sudden sounding of the car horn may have been because Turkey had just smacked his head against it. Or an electrical failure. Who knew?
---
They'd been traveling for hours and England was really starting to miss the comforts of a normal civilian vehicle. It had turned out that sitting in the gun turret while moving was a good way to get a sore head from all the holes in the road (they looked bombed, not recently though. Perhaps there had been riots before?). Instead, Ireland was sitting in the passenger seat next to Denmark, and the rest of the boys were piled in the back, and while there was plenty of space, the back seats were made of plywood and metal.
"Is that the Russian border?" asked Ireland suddenly. Everyone turned to look at the high, wired fences coming into view in their headlamps. It would be a while before dawn yet.
"Yup." replied Denmark, grinning away as the blockage loomed ever closer.
Northern Ireland raised his eyebrows. "That's a big electric fence in the way there."
"Uhuh."
England turned very pale."... Aren't you going to slow down?"
Denmark's grin became full of teeth, and he pressed down on the accelerator pedal, making the engine of the armored truck scream with effort and growl and snarl at the steel wire and concrete obstacle. Wales adjusted his helmet with a resigned air about him.
"Nope."
Notes:
- Denmark's armored truck is named after Fenrir, a massive wolf from Norse mythology. Seemed like an epic thing to name a truck, if you ask me. It looks like a gray, cobbled together version of this motherfucker here.
- Voronezh is on the way to Moscow, and also has the Trans-Siberian railway running through it.
- The reasons for the American soldiers in Russia will be revealed later, mmkay? Be patient children.
Part 78
Characters (in this chapter): Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Finland, Estonia, Latvia, England, Wales, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Portugal, Afghanistan, Turkey and Greece.
Rating: 12
Warnings: Destroyed cities, Denmark and the Irelands mechagazming.
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.
England would comment some time later that he had never been so happy to see vikings in his entire life.
Sweden carried the startlingly beaten up Estonia past them without much of a second glance. It was Finland who paused and helped Latvia to his feet, patting the boy on the back when he suddenly hugged him around the waist. The Brit siblings stared in stunned amazement at him, the edges of his clothes singed from flames and his beret still miraculously on his head and unharmed.
"So you guys seem healthy enough." he chirped at them, smiling in his usual friendly way.
"I thought you were neutral." was the first thing out of Wales' mouth. Finland gave him a look like he'd inhaled smoke by accident.
"If I'd known about Estonia's problem then I wouldn't have been for so long." he sighed. "Looks like I'm back in it again. Svi technically isn't in the war either, or Norway, but they came along to help out. Denmark's just here for fun." A roll of the eyes, but England's eyebrows rose even further into his hairline than they had before.
"Denmark? Where is he?"
The Fin jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, and around the corner came a pair of headlights, attached to a car.
Or what may have once been a car, but had been tinkered with and modified until it was more like a tank without treads. It even had a moving gun turret and a side door that opened up to show a lot more space inside than one would expect from seeing the outside. The window of the driver's seat rolled down, and Denmark leaned out, waving at the assembled group on the grass. Norway shoved his head back into the car on his way past, making the Dane grumble about hitting his head. He and Estonia disappeared into the back of the armored vehicle. Finland nodded to the others, and lead Latvia inside too.
The remaining siblings ventured over to talk to Denmark, who was making insistent motions to beckon them over.
"Evening folks." he grinned. "Enjoying the fresh air?" England rolled his eyes.
"Cutting to the point, Denmark, what are you and your group going to do next?" he asked, folding his arms. The other blonde looked put out, but shrugged.
"Technically I'm not meant to be here, and nor is Svi or Norge, so we should go home." He pretended to look stern for a moment, but the smile soon cracked on his face again. "But I figure, what the hell, I'm sticking around even if the others don't. Should be fun. Brought along a few volunteers but they're really not meant to be here either but I heard you needed more manpower so, yeah, you can thank me later."
England resisted the strong urge to facepalm. Barely.
"So if you're coming with us, are you bringing this beautiful beastie?" Ireland said, stroking the side of the machine like it was some kind of massive animal, an affectionate smile on her face. Denmark beamed.
"You like her? I call her Vánagandr, isn't she awesome?" he cheered, patting the door.
This time the urge to facepalm was too strong. Trust Ireland to bond with Denmark over such things as massive war machines. Besides him, Wales shook his head as Northern Ireland started inquiring how he'd built the thing. This carried on for a few minutes, before Norway hopped out of the back of the truck.
"How is he?" asked England, not so much out of personal interest as the desire to know what was going on. Norway shook his head.
"I had been told that it was bad, but I didn't know it was that bad." he said in his usual deadpan tones. He gave a side-along look at a fairy that had come to rest on his shoulder. "It seems someone left out some of the details."
"For a laugh, maybe." England couldn't help but smile at the pixie, which giggled like it had just received some kind of compliment rather than an admonishment. "You need to take him to hospital then?"
"Yes, or leave it a few days and take him to a morgue instead." The straight faced delivery made the line a little more than disturbing. But Norway had always been good at that. The shorter Nordic walked past England and tugged on Denmark's ear, forcing him to yelp and interrupting his explanation.
"Listen up, I'm not saying this twice." he frowned at him. "Svi, Finland, Latvia and I are taking Estonia to a hospital. I'll make sure they don't ask questions. In the meanwhile, you take this thing," he kicked the machine, and the Irelands and Denmark made tiny scandalised noises. "and help the rest of them invade Russia. And you will not do anything stupid or die. Clear?"
Denmark pouted at being ordered around, but nodded. "Crystal."
Satisfied, the smaller Nordic turned to ask England. "Can we borrow your car? It's a fair swap."
England shrugged. "Sure, help yourself."
"Score!" cheered Northern Ireland, punching the air. "We get to ride in the beast! I call gun turret!"
"No you bloody well do not!" his sister argued back, and Wales quietly went to usurp the seat himself.
---
Voronezh was probably a very pretty place once.
The white truck they'd "borrowed" trundled through the streets, where people still milled but with their heads down, trying to protect themselves from the flurry of snow that threatened to bury the roads and make them unusable. Not that they were in particularly good condition, for occasionally they'd find evidence of some kind of bomb or riot gone horribly wrong in the form of massive holes and ditches and half-collapsed buildings that nobody had got round to fixing yet. A number of times, Portugal had suggested getting another, more off-road suited vehicle. But then the idea of getting out of the nice warm van came to mind and the idea was immediately dismissed, because none of them were particularly used to snow.
Why were they invading Russia in winter again?
Turkey was driving now, having stronger arms to steer through the mud and ice when it got tough. Afghanistan sat with the map in her lap, looking around the buildings and trying to find landmarks that would help as they couldn't read Cyrillic.
"Hey." Turkey interrupted one of the many silences that had fallen on the group, a frown on his face. "Is that a tank?"
Greece peered over the headrest. "No shit it's a tank."
"No, I mean, that is not a Russian tank."
The four of them stared in wonder at the large tank with the insignia "US Armed Forces" on the side, nicely printed for all to see. They continued staring as a couple of men moved around it, as well as when another tank appeared, rolling up next to it.
"Stop the car." said Portugal, and Turkey did so, at a force which might have been a little excessive. Steeling himself, he opened the door and ignored the hissed protests of the others, walking out into the cold air. The army soldiers paused in their conversations as soon as they saw him, a few of them warily reaching for their guns.
"Hold your fire, I'm not an enemy." Portugal held up his hands to show he was unarmed, though the bulky coat could probably conceal anything. "I'm a Portuguese soldier, Afonso Gabriel Fernandes de Alcântara Henriques dos Anjos." He could see the men exchange looks at his comparatively long name, but that wasn't important. "I have a question to ask."
After a long pause, one of the soldiers lowered his gun. "Alright then, go ahead."
Portugal thanked his lucky stars. "Do any of you have a phone charger I can borrow?"
The sudden sounding of the car horn may have been because Turkey had just smacked his head against it. Or an electrical failure. Who knew?
---
They'd been traveling for hours and England was really starting to miss the comforts of a normal civilian vehicle. It had turned out that sitting in the gun turret while moving was a good way to get a sore head from all the holes in the road (they looked bombed, not recently though. Perhaps there had been riots before?). Instead, Ireland was sitting in the passenger seat next to Denmark, and the rest of the boys were piled in the back, and while there was plenty of space, the back seats were made of plywood and metal.
"Is that the Russian border?" asked Ireland suddenly. Everyone turned to look at the high, wired fences coming into view in their headlamps. It would be a while before dawn yet.
"Yup." replied Denmark, grinning away as the blockage loomed ever closer.
Northern Ireland raised his eyebrows. "That's a big electric fence in the way there."
"Uhuh."
England turned very pale."... Aren't you going to slow down?"
Denmark's grin became full of teeth, and he pressed down on the accelerator pedal, making the engine of the armored truck scream with effort and growl and snarl at the steel wire and concrete obstacle. Wales adjusted his helmet with a resigned air about him.
"Nope."
Notes:
- Denmark's armored truck is named after Fenrir, a massive wolf from Norse mythology. Seemed like an epic thing to name a truck, if you ask me. It looks like a gray, cobbled together version of this motherfucker here.
- Voronezh is on the way to Moscow, and also has the Trans-Siberian railway running through it.
- The reasons for the American soldiers in Russia will be revealed later, mmkay? Be patient children.
Part 78
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-08-29 03:27 pm (UTC)I am loving how pleased everyone seems with Port's "Spain moment" because lmao THAT MAN. THAT SILLY, ROMANTIC MAN. Nice to see where his mind's at in a crisis, amirite? orz;;; Not that America's people could tell him from Spain I'm sure. XD England you're a lucky guy. |D
Speaking of which you must explain to me how your RP game works, what with the collars and video feeds and nonsense. So then at least I can tentatively do something with Port lol orz.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-30 11:14 am (UTC)L-lol this wasn't entirely for the sake of comedy I swear >> Haha well they'd at least try? "Are you from Europe?" "... yes. Yes I am."
Heheheh sorry I wasn't on last night to explain I got dragged out to a pub quiz. <3 /will lurk on AIM today for whenever you're on