Family Ties [Part 81]
Sep. 10th, 2010 11:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellzabethTitle: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): England, Wales, Northern Ireland, Ireland, Denmark, Scotland, France, Lithuania, Poland, India, Taiwan, Prussia
Rating: 12
Warnings: Big blocks of text, England actually trying his hand at optimism.
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.
"Well," Ireland said dryly, folding her arms. "On the bright side, we caught up with our own armies."
The armored truck radio messaged the leader of the convoy of tanks and trucks of soldiers, now accompanied with the air force zooming ahead of them into the distance. They were about 30 miles outside of Moscow, but the villages were turning in to towns the closer they got, and there was more and more resistance on the way to the capital. But the force-fields on the tanks had been upgraded to the point where they extended below ground, and it would take something like a friendly soldier pulling the trigger himself or sabotage to actually bring the hulking monsters down. Granted, they moved slower with the shields on as they took up power, but with the air force on their side time was no longer of the essence. Which was good, because they also had about a foot and a half of snow to wade through as well.
"And we're also no longer hurtling through a forest at 90mph." added Wales, glancing over at Denmark, who shrugged.
"Hey, I got us here. If you wanna get out and walk to Moscow, just say."
North was sitting up in the turret, looking up through the roof at all the planes flying overhead. "If every one of those has twenty bombs there won't be enough of Moscow for us to take over when we get there." he commented, seeming genuinely thoughtful over the matter. "Hey, is anyone else wondering if we should still be doing this when America's not really telling us anything?"
"What else could we do?" England sighed. "Run home? It could be just that Russia's been intercepting or blocking the messages. Something like that. Either way, we're going to just have to trust America for now, ask him later what all this mess was about." He rolled his eyes. "Probably just because he's disorganised. Even if he did fire at Port, he was with Turkey and Afghanistan, and I don't think his soldiers are quite over the whole Middle East milarky. That must be it."
"Right, sure." Darren muttered as the first signs of battle appeared on the horizon. A plume of smoke curling up into the misty winter sky.
---
The air was cold enough to freeze their breath in front of their eyes despite it being nearly noon, a misty cloud cover landing the whole scene in a foggy gray. Scotland's limp was nearly gone from where he'd had to twist his ankle to get out of the wall, which was a good thing because he had to half-carry France and the two of them being injured would not help in the instance where they might have to run for it. The snow was thinner closer to the buildings, but he still didn't fancy legging it when he wasn't wearing much and it had to be -10C out here.
"It's fine." said Lithuania, smiling encouragingly. "Just get going."
"Like, don't be such a martyr Liet." Poland scowled, folding his arms. "Whatever, just come back for us later when you've beat up Russia, you big jerks."
He kind of felt bad for leaving Lithuania and Poland back in the cell, but theirs was the only one with a lose brick (and it looked like someone had been chipping away at it to make it so, possibly the previous inhabitant of the cell) and trying to break them out too was a one way ticket to getting discovered.
The two Nations crept around the back of the prison, quiet as possible, until Scotland spotted the fence. Letting France off his shoulder so the blonde could lean against the wall for support, he crept over and gave it an experimental poke. Not electrified. Sweet, okay, but the top was barbed in some nasty looking ways, and getting even more injured was not high on his list of priorities.
A terrifyingly familiar sound whistled from above, and every instinct in his body screamed at him to grab Francis and get down.
Not a moment too soon, as the falling bomb landed about twenty feet away from them, on the other side of the fence. Shrapnel and flying snow blasted everywhere with a deafening explosion, the blast rolling the two Nations into the wall of the building, piling snow up on top of them. James waited until the ground had stopped shaking, before pushing the snow off the both of them and looking around.
The fence was a smoldering lump of twisted iron.
"Well that was pretty lucky, all things considered." France said, eyebrows raised and clumps of snow in his hair. He looked skywards at the planes. "Those are new. I don't think I've seen them before."
The red head frowned. "They're Artie's, got his symbol painted on it."
"You mean the bulls-eye?" France smirked. Scotland gave an amused snort.
"See, I told him that, but he's a stubborn brat, says it looks nothing like it."
"Clearly an idiot." the other agreed. "We'd better find him and stop him doing something stupid."
"Yeah." There was fondness in the smile, but anyone who saw any would be called a liar. Scotland pulled his lover to his feet, and helped him past the shrapnel and out onto the street beyond, merging into the crowds of panicked people.
---
A train car full of Russia's highest NWO superiors was fleeing east towards the mountains. They were all silent, contemplating that they may in fact lose this war, and that their search for glory and triumph in a world grown lazy with peace may yet prove futile. The snow was no match for the Trans-Siberian railway, and indeed very little could halt their escape now.
It would take, say, an army comprised of volunteers from the Republic of China as well as the military forces of the Republic of India to completely take apart the tracks that had been cold-welded there for nearly 100 years.
Unfortunately for them, India and Taiwan themselves were standing on a hill overlooking the tracks. Both were quite looking forward to watching a train-wreck.
Woe betide those who decided to deny them what they wanted.
---
Prussia withdrew his hands from the hot water with a tiny flinch, not intending for it to come out of the tap that hot. He fiddled with the faucets until it was the right temperature and stuck his hands back in, along with the dirty dishes. Geez, this was harder than he thought, but complaining to higher ups would probably get him fired and that would be definitely not awesome.
The creaking of the kitchen door alerted him to movement and he glanced over. "Hey, back downstairs, dessert's in a minute, just lemme wash up." He rolled his eyes. "What am I, your mother now? Go play a video game or something." A pause. "Oh, you don't know how to work it, do you. You don't know anything. Argh." he turned off the tap and left the dishes to soak, pushing the door open and storming down to the basement.
"They don't pay me enough for this job."
Notes:
- Are you tired of me teasing you yet? 8D
- The RAF (Royal Air Force) symbol looks like this. And it really does look like a bulls-eye. >>
Q and A is up! (One chapter late orz)
Part 82
Characters (in this chapter): England, Wales, Northern Ireland, Ireland, Denmark, Scotland, France, Lithuania, Poland, India, Taiwan, Prussia
Rating: 12
Warnings: Big blocks of text, England actually trying his hand at optimism.
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.
"Well," Ireland said dryly, folding her arms. "On the bright side, we caught up with our own armies."
The armored truck radio messaged the leader of the convoy of tanks and trucks of soldiers, now accompanied with the air force zooming ahead of them into the distance. They were about 30 miles outside of Moscow, but the villages were turning in to towns the closer they got, and there was more and more resistance on the way to the capital. But the force-fields on the tanks had been upgraded to the point where they extended below ground, and it would take something like a friendly soldier pulling the trigger himself or sabotage to actually bring the hulking monsters down. Granted, they moved slower with the shields on as they took up power, but with the air force on their side time was no longer of the essence. Which was good, because they also had about a foot and a half of snow to wade through as well.
"And we're also no longer hurtling through a forest at 90mph." added Wales, glancing over at Denmark, who shrugged.
"Hey, I got us here. If you wanna get out and walk to Moscow, just say."
North was sitting up in the turret, looking up through the roof at all the planes flying overhead. "If every one of those has twenty bombs there won't be enough of Moscow for us to take over when we get there." he commented, seeming genuinely thoughtful over the matter. "Hey, is anyone else wondering if we should still be doing this when America's not really telling us anything?"
"What else could we do?" England sighed. "Run home? It could be just that Russia's been intercepting or blocking the messages. Something like that. Either way, we're going to just have to trust America for now, ask him later what all this mess was about." He rolled his eyes. "Probably just because he's disorganised. Even if he did fire at Port, he was with Turkey and Afghanistan, and I don't think his soldiers are quite over the whole Middle East milarky. That must be it."
"Right, sure." Darren muttered as the first signs of battle appeared on the horizon. A plume of smoke curling up into the misty winter sky.
---
The air was cold enough to freeze their breath in front of their eyes despite it being nearly noon, a misty cloud cover landing the whole scene in a foggy gray. Scotland's limp was nearly gone from where he'd had to twist his ankle to get out of the wall, which was a good thing because he had to half-carry France and the two of them being injured would not help in the instance where they might have to run for it. The snow was thinner closer to the buildings, but he still didn't fancy legging it when he wasn't wearing much and it had to be -10C out here.
"It's fine." said Lithuania, smiling encouragingly. "Just get going."
"Like, don't be such a martyr Liet." Poland scowled, folding his arms. "Whatever, just come back for us later when you've beat up Russia, you big jerks."
He kind of felt bad for leaving Lithuania and Poland back in the cell, but theirs was the only one with a lose brick (and it looked like someone had been chipping away at it to make it so, possibly the previous inhabitant of the cell) and trying to break them out too was a one way ticket to getting discovered.
The two Nations crept around the back of the prison, quiet as possible, until Scotland spotted the fence. Letting France off his shoulder so the blonde could lean against the wall for support, he crept over and gave it an experimental poke. Not electrified. Sweet, okay, but the top was barbed in some nasty looking ways, and getting even more injured was not high on his list of priorities.
A terrifyingly familiar sound whistled from above, and every instinct in his body screamed at him to grab Francis and get down.
Not a moment too soon, as the falling bomb landed about twenty feet away from them, on the other side of the fence. Shrapnel and flying snow blasted everywhere with a deafening explosion, the blast rolling the two Nations into the wall of the building, piling snow up on top of them. James waited until the ground had stopped shaking, before pushing the snow off the both of them and looking around.
The fence was a smoldering lump of twisted iron.
"Well that was pretty lucky, all things considered." France said, eyebrows raised and clumps of snow in his hair. He looked skywards at the planes. "Those are new. I don't think I've seen them before."
The red head frowned. "They're Artie's, got his symbol painted on it."
"You mean the bulls-eye?" France smirked. Scotland gave an amused snort.
"See, I told him that, but he's a stubborn brat, says it looks nothing like it."
"Clearly an idiot." the other agreed. "We'd better find him and stop him doing something stupid."
"Yeah." There was fondness in the smile, but anyone who saw any would be called a liar. Scotland pulled his lover to his feet, and helped him past the shrapnel and out onto the street beyond, merging into the crowds of panicked people.
---
A train car full of Russia's highest NWO superiors was fleeing east towards the mountains. They were all silent, contemplating that they may in fact lose this war, and that their search for glory and triumph in a world grown lazy with peace may yet prove futile. The snow was no match for the Trans-Siberian railway, and indeed very little could halt their escape now.
It would take, say, an army comprised of volunteers from the Republic of China as well as the military forces of the Republic of India to completely take apart the tracks that had been cold-welded there for nearly 100 years.
Unfortunately for them, India and Taiwan themselves were standing on a hill overlooking the tracks. Both were quite looking forward to watching a train-wreck.
Woe betide those who decided to deny them what they wanted.
---
Prussia withdrew his hands from the hot water with a tiny flinch, not intending for it to come out of the tap that hot. He fiddled with the faucets until it was the right temperature and stuck his hands back in, along with the dirty dishes. Geez, this was harder than he thought, but complaining to higher ups would probably get him fired and that would be definitely not awesome.
The creaking of the kitchen door alerted him to movement and he glanced over. "Hey, back downstairs, dessert's in a minute, just lemme wash up." He rolled his eyes. "What am I, your mother now? Go play a video game or something." A pause. "Oh, you don't know how to work it, do you. You don't know anything. Argh." he turned off the tap and left the dishes to soak, pushing the door open and storming down to the basement.
"They don't pay me enough for this job."
Notes:
- Are you tired of me teasing you yet? 8D
- The RAF (Royal Air Force) symbol looks like this. And it really does look like a bulls-eye. >>
Q and A is up! (One chapter late orz)
Part 82
