Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Greetings Diplomat,

You are cordially invited for a two week stay in Rapture, the city of the deep. Come join us for a spectacular New Year's Eve event on December 31, 1958! While you're here, you can also check out Arcadia, the largest underwater garden, which provides all of Rapture's oxygen, or go see a show produced by Sander Cohen at Fort Frolic.

If you'd like to attend please be at Reykjavik Dock in Iceland on December 21, 1958. Please dial +354 552 XXXX for precise docking information. Please call to set a time for the sea-plane to depart.

Sincerely,

Andrew Ryan

"It is not a dystopia . . . but like all utopias, failed even before the first shovel struck dirt . . . It doesn't matter if the utopia is in fact realized . . . it is doomed from the moment its founder pronounces the capital 'U.'"

-Christine Tarkowski, 2005

"Ludwig-san," Kiku said, "do you think it was alright to leave Feliciano-san alone?"

They had met up at the dock, coincidentally setting the same time to depart. The plane had just left with a few other people and was due back in about thirty minutes for their group, which included the two of them and three others that Ludwig assumed were workers from Rapture. Something was off about them, though. They were acting shifty about being above the waves.

Ludwig scowled at Kiku, but nodded. "He can take care of himself. He's an adult, and not involved with any wars at the moment. I believe he'll be fine."

The plane returned and took them to a lighthouse in the middle of the ocean. Large brass doors loomed over them as they walked off the plane onto the island. Their guide—the airplane pilot—pushed them open, inviting them in. No gods or kings. Only Man. That banner—and in front of a large statue of the founder—sent off alarm bells in Ludwig's mind. What was going on here?

"Do you have a bad feeling about this place, too?" Kiku whispered, staring at the statue.

They were led to a bathysphere that sealed them in a took them to the depths of Rapture. The welcome video played, Kiku and Ludwig watching, while the workers ignored it and talked quietly amongst themselves. There was no sign of the other passengers that had been on the plane trip before them.

Ludwig turned to Kiku, mumbling in his ear, "We haven't even stepped foot in this city and I can tell everything isn't going to plan for Andrew Ryan." He glanced at the workers in their shabby clothes. It wasn't the shabbiness that got him, it was the traces of what looked like blood on the bottom of the trousers and shirt sleeves. "We'll have to be careful."

"Of course."

The bathysphere docked, rocking the group into each other in the confined space. The three workers sped out of the space as soon as the hatch depressurized, leaving Kiku and Ludwig to slowly exit.

A heavy-set man with brown hair and a welcoming smile greeted the pair. Mr. Beilschmidt and Mr. Honda?" He had a very distinct southern American accent.

Ludwig stepped forward. "Ja, that's us."

The man stepped forward and shook Ludwig's hand. "Name's Travis McKenzie and I'm here to show you folks 'round Rapture some, and make sure y'all get settled."

Ludwig introduced himself, while Kiku and Travis shook hands and did the same.

"If you fellas will follow me, I'll show you the sites round here. Y'all don't need to worry about them bags, the porters will take care o' them." They nodded and followed him out of the Welcome Center. Behind them, two men received their luggage and brought it to their rooms. "Y'all are stayin' in Hotel Monseñor, finest hotel in all of Rapture. Everythin' during your stay is included, so please take advantage of the shows and the food. Kashmir Restaurant over thataways has a very diverse menu. Some of the best food I'd a ever had.

"Don't forget to take a stroll through Arcadia, the heart of Rapture. It provides all the organic food and oxygen we need down here. Don't worry about the fee, all expenses paid, like I said. Just tell 'em your name and you're a guest of Mr. Ryan.

"Stop by Fort Frolic for some shopping. All sorts of shops—clothing, music, knickknacks. Y'all be needing some masks for the New Year's party in a couple weeks. Better ta get them now instead of waiting.

"Sander Cohen runs the theater district and has a couple plays running, like Patrick and Moira and Happy Chappy. I'd preferred his movie, The Black Dream, myself."

They stopped in front of an ornate entrance to Hotel Monseñor. The hotel lobby itself didn't look overly busy. It didn't look like Rapture got that many new visitors, anyway, especially for a short visit.

"If y'all need anything else, send a note. I'll just be a jump away. Leslie here can help ya fellas get settled in y'all's rooms. Afternoon." Travis left and Ludwig and Kiku turned to look at the smiling woman in the yellow dress.

"Welcome to Hotel Monseñor. Can I please have your names?"

Alfred Jones had been down in Rapture for about a week at this point, and everywhere he goes, he can't help but be amazed. Ryan built an entire city underwater! Imagine what America could do if they expanded underwater! They already tried expanding into the air, and that didn't work out too well. Underwater, had to be better!

This was one of the most futuristic cities in the world, and it almost seemed like there was no end to it. Every day he found a new part he hadn't explored before.

Alfred stood in one of the glass lined corridors, staring out at the fish swimming around the buildings. Stomping around one of the support structures, a Big Daddy worked while another walked around the leaking inner building. Something was off about the Big Daddies. Not only their name, but no one seemed to know anything about them, or even seem to care. They were a mystery.

"Ah, Mr. Jones," Andrew Ryan said as he walked down the hallway. A hulking bodyguard stood just out of site in the hallway. "You are a very tricky person to track down."

Alfred smiled and turned to the founder. "Sorry about that, I've been exploring. This place is amazing! I can't wait to tell my boss all about it!"

Ryan's smile strained at the corners. "The city holds many wonders. Do be careful, my boy." Alfred nodded. "I'm awfully pleased that you accepted my invitation to join us for the New Year's Eve celebration."

"It's been a blast. So many new things and discoveries down here. I know I haven't found them all." Ryan froze for a second, then relaxed.

"Please let me know if I can be of any other assistance, Mr. Jones." He offered his hand.

"Will do, Mr. Ryan," Alfred replied, shaking it.

Ryan turned away, "Andrew, please."

"Will do, Andrew." Alfred watched Ryan walk back the way he came and out of the hallway. The large man stomping behind him. Something wasn't going as he planned down in Rapture. Alfred needed to find out what it was before it came and bit him in the ass.

He eyed a dimly lit corridor closer to the ocean floor. He could make out some shapes moving around—people if he had to guess. Maybe it was time to look deeper into the working class side of Rapture.

Feliciano was worried about his friends. They left a week ago to Iceland to catch a seaplane to a city called Rapture. They had to be down in the city by now. Something seemed off about the invite, like whoever wrote it was trying to hard to pretend that Rapture was a normal place. Plus, he couldn't, and wouldn't, just leave his friends down there alone without backup.

"Felici, I don't think this is a very good idea," Francis said, holding the tomato crate lid open.

Feliciano stood up from his crouch in the box. "But big brother France, I'm worried about them. We may not be allies anymore, but they're still my friends."

Francis sighed. "As long as you know what you're doing, mon ami."

"Sì," he said with conviction. Francis smiled at his enthusiasm and passed the shorter Italian a small backpack of food. "Grazie, fratellone Francia."

Francis put the lid down and hugged Feliciano. "Anything for you and l’amore."

Feliciano blushed. "It's not like that."

Francis pet him on the head. "Of course not, Felici."

He sat back down in the box and nodded to Francis to nail the top down. Francis did so, albeit grudgingly. He didn't want the small nation to go into uncharted territory without anyone else to search for his beloved Ludwig, but he didn't really have a choice in the matter. Felici would do what he wanted. Francis wasn't suited for undercover work (and if he being completely honest, neither was Felici, but he didn't want to get into a fight with him right before New Years.)

He drove the tomato crate with the hidden Italian to the docks and left it in the middle of a bunch of other crates going down to Rapture. He only hoped Feliciano was wrong about this Rapture place and he and the other nations returned home safely.

Feliciano fell asleep as soon as he felt the rocking of the boat. It was going to be a long ride to Rapture, and he had no idea how any of the crates were lowered to the ocean floor. He only hoped it wouldn't end with pain or drowning or some other unmentionable horror.

Once they docked and Feliciano work up, the crate was moved roughly onto another slowly rocking location. He ears popped as he assumed they were going deeper underwater. Just where was this city?

Men started shouting as they unloaded the crates and materials. He waited until he felt his crate moved off the floating thing and onto solid ground. The voices moved further away again and he got to work quickly unscrewing the false side of the crate. He crawled out and reattached it. No need to give away the game quite yet.

"You know the drill, men. Sort everything!" a foreman shouted.

Feliciano's eyes widened as the men started walking around all the boxes and marking them. He ran as silently as he could behind a few upturned skids.

"Sir!"

"What?" the foreman shouted.

"We have a tomato crate here!"

The foreman narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, walking over to the crate in question. He circled it once. "Why would they order tomatoes when we grow them here?" The workers just gave him a confused look. "Fucking morons. Because they didn't." Faster than Feliciano could track, he removed the shotgun from his back and shot all four bullets into the crate. That could've been him. Oh cavolo, that could've been him.

He swallowed the bile that threatened to come up and ran from the room as they opened the box. Soon they would question its emptiness and start searching for whomever wasn't there. He had to get further away before that happened.

If this place was a utopia, why did the dock workers have guns? Something was messed up with this place. Feliciano just hoped he would find Ludwig and Kiku before any of them were caught in the middle of it.

Chapter Text

"Utopia is the grotesque en rose, the need to associate happiness - that is, the improbable - with becoming, and to coerce an optimistic, aerial vision to the point where it rejoins its own source: the very cynicism it sought to combat. In short, a monstrous fantasy."

-Emil Cioran, History & Utopia, 1960

Feliciano had no idea where he was. Sure, he knew he was somewhere down in Rapture, but how he ended up in a forest, he had no idea. He just started climbing through some random vents and skirting around hallways, and he found an unlocked door that looked like it lead to somewhere bigger and more populated. He had wanted to blend into the crowds, but that didn't go as planned.

He got a bad feeling from the trees, too. They didn't feel natural. Like the entire forest was artificial or there was something more in the plants. They were very vibrant and looked healthy even though they were growing in an underwater city.

He meandered down the dirt path, taking in the sites, not really paying attention to his surroundings. He knocked into someone's arm, not terribly hard, got a sharp bolt of electricity, originating in his upper arm, jolting though his body. He was thrown back into the plants lining the path. The other man had only moved back a step from the collision.

"Watch where ye're goin'!" he complained. "Lettin' anyone into Arcadia these days. Don't believe it," he groused to the petite woman on his arm.

Feliciano groaned and held his throbbing head where it had smacked on the ground, trying to sit up as the couple ignored him and walked away. It took him a few minutes, but he was able to sit up and rest his head between his legs, trying to get his shaking limbs under control. Why did it feel like he was still being electrocuted?

A hissing sound started up and water sprayed down from overhead sprinklers. Feliciano jumped, shouting, trying to get out from under the spray. He stumbled over the bushes and into the path, kicking up dirt and grass.

"Hey, buddy!" an aging man in green overalls yelled, "Whatta ya doin' in the middle of the damn trees? It clearly says we're watering today!" He walked closer to Feliciano, pointing to the sign posted. He paused when he got close enough to see Feliciano's huddled, shaking form. "Oh…you okay?"

The water sputtered, sending large droplets away from the leaves to land on Feliciano. He yelped and scrambled back from the trees. Why couldn't he stop shaking? This was worse than any damage someone could do to his country.

"Jesus fuck, why didn't ya tell me you ran inta someone with one of those 'lectric tonics?" The gardener grabbed Feliciano's forearm and hoisted him to his feet. "Come on, kid. Ya can rest it off in my office."

"Th-th-thanks," he managed to stutter out.

"It's no trouble. Those tonics are a bitch. I know what they feel like."

He led Feliciano to a small office filled to the brim with gardening tools, loose plants, seedlings, and a literal mountain of paperwork both in flat piles and still in messenger tubes.

"Ya gotta be careful, kid. More and more people have been usin' tonics and Plasmids. It's getting' harder 'nd harder to walk around without running inta someone sellin' the stuff or buying."

"W-what are pla-plasm-mids?" Feliciano asked. He didn't think anyone had talked about those before at a world meeting. It was a weird enough word, that Feliciano was sure he would've remembered it.

"You been livin' under a rock or sommum?"

He shrugged, running his trembling hands up and down his pants. "Just g-got here."

"Fair 'nough. Tonics and Plasmids are these serum things that ya can take, and it changes your DNA so ya can do things you normally wouldn't be able to do. Kinda like super powers, if Superman had less of a moral compass." The man shifted tools around in his shed, putting some away, and brushing the dirt off of others. "Tonics…they work all the damn time once they're in your body, but Plasmids, they gotta be consciously used. That guy had a tonic that any attack to his person results in 'lectric shock to te attacker."

"Is that legal?"

The man laughed. "Hell, kid, if it was legal, it wouldn't be down here, now would it." What did that mean?

The tremors were almost gone, and Feliciano's temporary shelter from the weird and cruel world down at the bottom of the ocean would be soon, too.

"If I could give ya some advice…" The man waited until Feliciano nodded. "Head back up ta the surface. I've been down here too long to go back, but you're new. Things down here are startin' ta get real bad, and I don't want to see an innocent kid like you ta get hurt. Enough of them already do." That last point was a bit concerning.

Feliciano appreciated what the old man was saying to him. Telling him to save himself before he got sucked up into the seedy underworld that existed in Rapture, but he had friends to find and make sure that they were safe.

"I'm looking for my friends."

The man scoffed and started digging through his tools again as a distraction. "Then I wish ya the best of luck, kid." He pulled out a large red wrench from under a large bag of fertilizer. "Since ya plan on stayin' down here, ya better keep your head out of the clouds and stay alert. There's an uprisin' brewin' and ya're going to want to be prepared. Find a weapon, get armed, get ammo. Fists and brute strength will get you nowhere fast down 'ere. Everyone has a gun."

Feliciano stood up, brushing dirt off his clothes. Maybe wearing his bright blue military uniform was a bad idea. He was very noticeable. "Why are you helping me?"

"It's nice ta see someone not all spliced up." He shrugged. "I'm too damn scared to stick a damn needle in my skin, not even if someone paid me all the gold in Rapture." Feliciano nodded like he knew exactly what the old man was talking about. Needles? Spliced up?

The man thrust the wrench he was fiddling with into Feliciano's hands. "Find your friends and get out. Before Ryan stops sending things ta the surface. It's bound to happen any day now."

"Thank you very much," Feliciano said, trying to find a comfortable way to hold the wrench. It was fairly heavy, if he was being honest.

"Take it. Use it to protect yourself until ya can find something better. Sorry I can't give ya anythin' better, but I need all my guns and ammo." Feliciano decided to just hide the wrench in his backpack, and startled when hands started to push him towards the door. "Now, it's time for you to go." He pushed him fully out of the room. "Head straight down this path and you'll find a tram. Take that to Hotel Monseñor. Check there first. You look like you have important friends. That's where all the important guests stay. Otherwise, check the Aventine Hotel. They're probably in one of those two places. Good luck!" he said brightly and slammed the door in his face.

Feliciano sighed and started walking down the path towards the tram. He didn't have any money. How was he supposed to pay for it?

Alfred scowled as he waited for the next tram to arrive to head back to the Monseñor. Rapture was a lot more corrupt than he thought. Underneath the happy atmosphere of the upper class areas, the lower class plotted a revolution with Atlas as their leader and aggressor. It didn't help that there was such a large monetary gap between the rich and the poor with no ways to help the poor in place. Damn Ryan for being crazy, honestly.

Atlas was taking down Rapture from the inside out, and Alfred really did not want to be caught in the middle of it. He promised Ryan he'd stay until after the New Year's party, so stay he would. Sometimes he hated being the hero since a hero never went back on their word.

Alfred stared out at the crowd of people surrounding the metro station. This particular station was near Atlas' headquarters and the people had a different attitude than the upper class. Everyone looked like they were itching for a fight. He counted no less than ten guns peeking out from under jackets and purses. A group of people passing by were discussing which Plasmid was the most offensive—not in a morality way, but in a violence way. A man in the corner had cleaned out the vending machine of its EVE while Alfred waited and watched him, and started to try to sell it for a higher price to passengers. They still bought it, desperate for a fix.

Alfred ruffled his hair and turned to scan the station again. A familiar curl bounced above the heads and caught Alfred's eye. He couldn't be here, could he?

The EVE seller caught the arm of the brown haired man and started his pitch. The crowd parted enough for Alfred to see the bright blue uniform and the tan backpack that Feliciano always had. The seller started to get more pushy, almost stabbing Feliciano in the eye with the end of the needle.

Alfred pushed his way over to the duo, almost upending a mother with her sons in his haste. "Feliciano!" he interjected. The duo turned to face Alfred, the seller's hand loosening in his shock. "Come on, we're going to be late for work." Alfred grabbed Feliciano's arm and pulled him away and towards the tram. "I'm not getting fired because of you."

"Ve?" he asked, following blindly.

Alfred pushed the confused man into a seat and sat down next to him. "Sorry about that. You okay?" he asked.

"Sì. Grazie. What are you doing in Rapture?"

Alfred scrunched his face in confusion. Did he forget to tell everyone where he was going? He was sure he mentioned it to someone. "Andrew Ryan invited me." Alfred paused and took in the Italian man. He was covered in dirt and grass stains; his hair looked like he touched an electrical socket a couple times; and the edges of his uniform looked more frayed than normal. "What are you doing down here?"

Feliciano wrung his hands in his lap, looking down and clenching and unclenching. "Looking for Ludwig and Kiku. They were invited too, I guess. They left me alone and I got scared about their safety and wanted to make sure they were okay, so I got Big Brother France to help me get down here, then I got lost, and ran into someone that sent electricity through me, and this old man helped me and told me what Plasmids and tonics were, and then he gave me a wrench, and—"

"Wait, wait, wait," Alfred interrupted. "You followed Ludwig and Kiku down here just because you were lonely and worried for their safety?" Feliciano nodded. "Fucking dumbass," Alfred mumbled. "I'm going to get you a ticket back up to the surface as soon as we get off this tram. You shouldn't be down here."

"NO!" he shouted, catching the attention of most of the people in the tram. Feliciano blushed and lowered his voice, "No. Please don't. Please. I need to find them. Something is wrong with this place, I can feel it, and I don't want my friends to stay down here alone and get hurt."

Alfred sighed and ran a hand down his face, trying to figure out what to do. "I think they would appreciate it more if I sent you home."

Feliciano sat up straighter, looking more determined than Alfred had ever seen the smaller nation. "No. I refuse to go. I may not be as strong or as tough as Grandpa Rome or Romano, but I want to protect my friends."

Alfred knew the look on the Italian's face meant business because he himself had done the same from time to time. Alfred knew when he was defeated. "Fine, but don't go running off. It'll be hard find you again." Feliciano nodded.

The tram pulled into the station closest to Hotel Monseñor and a bunch of rich folks got on while a handful of workers got off. Alfred pulled Feliciano towards his hotel and the front desk.

The woman at the desk gave them a once over, dismissing them and going back to her paperwork.

"Excuse me," Alfred said.

She looked up, scowling. "Yes? How can I help you?"

"Uh, yes," Alfred stumbled. "We're looking for our friends, but we aren't sure what hotel they're in."

Her eyes went up and down their clothes again before her eyebrows rose. "You may want to check at the Pink Pearl. That's probably where they are."

Alfred jerked back. That was a brothel, not a hotel. What was with her attitude? She was nice yesterday. Alfred glanced down at his clothes and internally cursed. He had forgotten to change out of his slumming clothes, and Feli had literally crawled in mud at some point. No wonder she was a bitch to them.

"Listen, lady," he said, starting to lose his temper with her attitude, "I'm staying in room 34. My name is Alfred Jones. If I give you their names, will you look them up?"

"Alfred," trembled Feliciano, tugging on Alfred's sleeve to get him to turn around.

"Let me handle this."

"Alfred," he said, insistently.

The woman was smirking at him. He glared harder. "Not now, Italy," he snapped.

"No, Alfred, I think you need to turn around."

"What?" Alfred snapped and turned to Feliciano. He saw a hulking man standing behind his friend and glanced all around him. Twelve armed guards surrounded them. He fully turned, leaving his back to the desk. These guards looked like they lifted cars as a warm up. "Fuck," he breathed.

Big-and-ugly smirked, showing off his rotting teeth. "Fuck is right," he said, "We'll take it from here, Gloria."

"Thanks, boys," she said smugly, and went back to her work, not bothering to worry about the arrest going on right in front of her.

Alfred was prepared to have some cuffs slapped on him and the two of them hauled to jail, but he should've known that wasn't going to happen. He hadn't actually seen any real cops in Rapture this week. It was just a bunch of senseless violence and vigilante justice. Security went to the lowest bidder.

A hand chopped down hard on Feliciano's neck, and he reached out to his friend before a sharp sting struck him in the neck and he blacked out.

Chapter Text

"Our business here is to be Utopian, to make vivid and credible, if we can, first this facet and then that, of an imaginary whole and happy world."

-H.G. Wells, A Modern Utopia, 1905

Ludwig and Kiku walked into the lobby of Hotel Monseñor and saw a large portion of the guests watching a crowd of body builders surround two rugged individuals. The two in the middle shouted in distress before getting slammed on the neck and knocked unconscious. Two of the body builders threw them over their shoulders and stomped away.

Kiku locked eyes with Ludwig, a knowing look in his eyes. What was going on down in Rapture? Why would you need twelve buff men to drag two scrawny people away?

The desk clerk returned to her business, like nothing happened, and that signaled to the rest of the crowd to go back to their own things. No one seemed overly shocked about the occurrence.

Ludwig walked up to the desk. She glanced up and smiled warmly. "Welcome back, Mr. Beilschmidt and Mr. Honda. How can I help you today?"

"Is everything alright?" Ludwig asked.

"Oh that?" She giggled. "It's all fine. Just a minor disagreement. Do you need help finding entertainment tonight?"

Ludwig was taken aback and the dismissal and blatant change of topic, but allowed it, seeing that he could tell that she wouldn't talk more about it.

"Yes, what can you recommend?"

"The theatre is always a good choice. We keep a few tickets on reserve." She moved around her papers and pulled out an envelope. "Here we are." She handed Ludwig the tickets. "Follow the directions within the envelope and you'll get to Fleet Hall just fine."

"Thank you."

"Kashmir Restaurant is a good place for dinner, as well. Have a nice day!"

Ludwig nodded in response and the duo walked over to some chairs in another part of the lobby. "Show starts at seven. We have a few hours. Let's meet back here in thirty minutes and we'll go to dinner?" Ludwig asked.

"That sounds agreeable," Kiku said.

They separated, getting ready in their rooms before meeting back in the lobby. While they had directions to the theatre, they didn't have any to the restaurant, and it took them another thirty minutes to find it, since they had to keep asking people for directions and not everyone was very helpful.

"Doistu-san, do you find it strange that we've yet to meet Ryan-san, yet we've be treated to free theatre tickets and a generous credit to spend on various amusements?" Kiku asked once they were seated at a table and ordered.

Ludwig swept his eyes throughout the restaurant, looking for anyone suspicious, which honestly didn't eliminate many people. Everyone looked shifty and ready for a fight.

"I'm not sure why he would personally invite us, but not meet us. Maybe he has chosen to remain hidden because of the unrest."

"He could've had us meet him at his offices then, yes?" Kiku asked.

Ludwig scowled. "That is an option, yes. Let's not forget whatever happened in the lobby when we walked in.  Kabelsalat."

They quieted and leaned back from each other when the waiter walked up and dropped off their dinner. She walked away and the duo leaned closer once again.

"That was very strange. It seems like the rich and the poor do not like each other, or even interact much, and when they do, it doesn't end well."

Ludwig glanced at the busgirl and her shabby clothing, comparing it to the couple seated next to them at the next table. It seemed that there was no system in place to help those that needed it. That wasn't the way to run a successful community.

"It seems like everyone has a hidden agenda," Ludwig said. "Very few people seem happy here, and a lot of the advertisements I've seen around worry me." The rich man stared at the busgirl with distaste. That couldn't bode well.

"I agree," Kiku said. "I saw a vending machine that sold ammunition for guns on the way here. And another machine to upgrade your weapons. That doesn't seem safe."

"Also all the posters for those Plasmid things."

"Those worry me, as well. Do you have any idea what they could be?" Kiku asked.

A yelp, followed by a plastic bucket crashing to the ground dropping silverware and sending it in all directions. Ludwig didn't have the chance to answer and looked up to see what was happening behind Kiku, who had turned in his seat to watch.

It seemed that the busgirl had bumped into the rich wife at the next table, and the husband got angry and pushed the busgirl over. Thus, the loud crashing sound as dishes and silverware fell onto the ground and shattered.

"Watch were you're fucking going, you fucking cunt!" the husband shouted.

The busgirl scowled and stood up, pushing up her sleeves, showing off huge, pulsating boils along both arms. The boils glowed a deep red from under her skin. She flexed her hands and the boils burned brighter. Fire erupted out of her hands, slowly rising up her arms. Ludwig and Kiku flinched backwards in surprise at this display of science-magic.

The husband responded by flexing his own arms and blue veins pulsed, electricity arching around his fingertips.

"Oi!" the bartender shouted. He ran out from the bar towards the duo in the middle of the restaurant. He stepped between them, not doing much to diffuse the situation, but the next moment, thrust his hands out and sent them flying back into the windows behind them. "Can't you fuckin' bloody idiots read?" he shouted, pointing towards the sign above the bar. "No fuckin' Plasmid use within the restaurant! Elaine, you're fired. Collect your things and get lost before I call the coppers. I hear they're all bloody Brute Splicers."

Elaine got up. "Yeah, well, fuck you, too!" She stormed out of the restaurant as fast as she could after that last word.

The bartender turned towards the husband. "Sir, if you don't abide by the rules, I'm goin' to have to ask you to leave."

The man nodded and the blue veins disappeared back into his skin. "Sorry about that."

The bartender snorted, not believing the apology and went back to his job behind the bar. Another busser started to clean up the glass from the floor.

"That was not normal," Kiku hissed. "My tech isn't even that advanced." He paused. "Was that technology or magic?"

"I have no idea," Ludwig responded quietly. "My tech isn't this good, either. It can't be magic. England is the one obsessed with magic, and we all know it barely works. There has to be a reasonable explanation for this."

Kiku was silent for a moment, thinking. "Maybe Plasmids alter a human's genetic makeup? I can't tell how much it alters it just by that display, though."

"Has to be a lot, judging by the fact they could control the elements easily. The boils on the busser's arms weren't healthy looking, so there are negative side effects. Maybe it's addictive."

"Could it be the type of Plasmid they were using?" Kiku asked.

"Maybe, but anything can get addicting if you use it enough," Ludwig reasoned.

Kiku nodded, thoughtfully. "So, the busgirl was addicted to these Plasmids, but not the other two? I can see them getting addicted if given enough time."

"I can see that happening, as well. Why would Ryan allow for something so dangerous to be so widespread?"

"…I think that's the point of Rapture," Kiku said. "The only rule is that there are no rules."

"That will not end well," Ludwig said. The duo moved onto safer topics concerning their countries and current events, and nothing else was said on the original subject that night at dinner.

Despite the rumors about Sander Cohen, Patrick and Moira was a good play with some fairly good actors. The writing could use some work, and the story didn't make a whole lot of sense (why were the lovers ghosts?), but the sets and costumes were lovely. Cohen spoke to the audience before the play and he gave off the impression that he was not sane, but Ludwig was starting to see that that was a staple for the underwater city. It was going to be a long couple weeks.

As the two got closer to Hotel Monseñor, they could hear a commotion in the lobby. It was always this lobby, it seemed. The desk clerk was standing on her chair to be seen over the crowd of twenty or so people that kept yelling things at her and waving money or tickets in the air.

"I've already told you!" she shouted over the noise, "Ryan has forbid any communication with the surface. We can't allow anyone to buy tickets to leave."

"We'll die if we stay down here!" a woman wearing furs shouted.

"Yeah," a man agreed, "I was almost killed by one of those thugs down in the Farmer's Market after I bought some EVE from one of the vending machines!"

The rest of the complaints crescendoed as everyone shouted at once.

The desk clerk scowled at the crowd. "Everyone," she shouted, "please go back to your rooms and await further news over the PA system and newspapers!" That only angered the guests. They pushed forward more incessantly. She narrowed her eyes and thrust her arms out. Everyone in front of her blew back, just like the two in the restaurant. It seemed like more people had Plasmids than it had seemed at first glance.

"Listen," she hissed, "I know about the Civil War Atlas is brewing. We all know about it, but ganging up on me isn't going to make Ryan change his mind about communication with surface or being able to leave. Take it up with him if you want, but I had nothing to do with it. I'm just the messenger. Now, please, go back to your rooms, before I have to call the police." She nodded sternly and climbed down from her chair. Straightening her papers, she sat back down at her desk and started to write, ignoring the crowd still hovering around her.

People grumbled, but started to drift away, some to their rooms and others out of the hotel. The two Countries made their way up to Ludwig's room. He poured them each a glass of Lacas Scotch, trying to relax after that eventful day.

"This is more worrying than I thought," Kiku said. "How will be we get back home in time for the world meeting?"

Ludwig sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure. We'll have to try and set up a meeting with Ryan and see if he'd allow us to return. The rest of the world will wonder what we're up to if two of the three former Axis don't show up."

"Did you tell anyone where you were going?"

"Nein. I mentioned to my boss I was going on vacation and would be unavailable until after the new year. You?"

"Īe. I did the same with my boss. Someone is bound to come looking, I would think."

"They wouldn't find us easily," Ludwig said, "not without some sort of knowledge that Rapture even exists. Even if Ryan doesn't allow us to leave, we need to at least call someone and tell them where we are."

Kiku sighed and tried to relax. He couldn't do anything at this time, anyway.

Ludwig sipped his drink and loosened his shirt. "I'm glad Feli wasn't invited. It's too dangerous here, and we can't be looking after him and trying to avoid getting involved at the same time."

"Yes, I agree. Feliciano-san is very kind and sweet, but I don't think he has the temperament that could handle this city."

"Ja. That reminds me, we need to get Feli a souvenir." He finished his glass of scotch.

Kiku quirked his eyebrow. "Do you really think that's something we should be focusing on?" There was a war going on, it seemed.

"No, but we'll just take a coaster or napkin or something. Just as long as we bring something back for him. He'd be insufferable otherwise," Ludwig said.

Kiku placed his untouched liquor onto the coffee table, where it was promptly picked up by Ludwig, who downed that glass, too.

"How'd we get mixed up in this mess?" Ludwig asked, looking deep into the empty glass.

Kiku laughed humorlessly, "I'm not sure, Ludwig-san, maybe it's just our good luck."

Ludwig scoffed and smirked at Kiku's attempt at humor. "Must be," he said and poured himself another glass, leaning back on the couch.

Chapter Text

"There is nothing like a dream to create the future. Utopia today, flesh and blood tomorrow."

-Victor Hugo, Les Misérables, 1862

"Are these them?" a young light brown haired woman asked her companion. Her clothes were dirt streaked and ripped at the knees and seams. She had a bloody, dirty rabbit mask on. While the new year's party wasn't for another couple of days, citizens had started to wear the masks to protect their identities.

A redhaired man in a similar clothing situation looked down at the picture in his hand. "Yeah, they look like the people in the pictures." He had a bear mask that was also dirty and bloody streaked.

"Alright," the woman said and picked up the lighter looking of the two men who was wearing a—now rather dirty—bright blue military uniform. The other was in a worn bomber jacket and brown work pants. His glasses were smudged; it was a miracle they weren't broken. An hour ago, the coppers had dropped off the two men in an unused corner of Siren Alley. The coppers didn't tell any one anything about them, but judging from their clothes, it was clear they belonged down here instead of where ever they were picked up.

The man picked up Bomber Jacket and threw him over one shoulder. "It's a shame we can't play with them for a while, eh, Debbie?"

Debbie scowled. "Atlas wants them in one piece, Rob. I don't wanna be on his bad side. I need the cash."

Rob visibly deflated. "But, Debbie," he whined, "they're already beat up; one little needle prick wouldn't be noticed; and, if he asks, we can say we found them like that."

"You're fucked," she said, but laid Military Guy back on the wall again. Rob dropped Bomber Jacket down next to him. "What do you have?"

"Incinerate. I have it and found this one in a Pheuno," he said. "Was goin' to sell it, but this is more fun."

"Give it to Bomber Jacket. He looks like he'll survive it better than Military." Debbie kicked the legs of Military Guy.

Rob grinned and craned Bomber Jacket's neck to the side, plunging the needle into his neck roughly. The man twitched at the pain, but didn't wake up, and Rob wasted no time in pushing the plunger down, sending the Plasmid into his veins.

Now, Alfred has a strong tolerance for pain—most countries do—but the pain coursing through his body at the moment beat out anything he had ever felt before, even worse than multiple bullets slamming into him at point blank range. To him, it felt like literal fire was coursing through his veins (and Alfred had been lit on fire once).

The forced unconsciousness was slowly conceding to the force that was the wave of fire burning through his insides. He ground his teeth together, clenched his hands, and arched his back, all while withering on the ground. The pain spiked, crossing over his chest and heart, and he opened his mouth in a silent scream. The pain so intense, all he could do was let the tears fall and hope it would be over soon. It spiked again, this time crossing around his head, and Alfred dropped unconscious.

The next time he woke up, the pain was significantly less, and his eyes felt like lead weights had laid to rest on them. He forced them open just enough to see light. He could feel his glasses on his face, but everything was still blurry around the edges. Why did it feel like he was forgetting something? Why was he in pain? He felt like he had been standing in the sun too long, but that wasn't right. Heroes didn't burn, they tanned (which was a complete lie, and Alfred hated to admit that he burned as red as a lobster in the sun).

"Come on, we have to get them to Atlas," a woman said.

"Yeah, yeah," a man replied.

Someone leaned over him. Blood and dirt obscured the once brown bear mask covering the face of the man. He laughed. "He looks like he just had his cherry popped." He waved a wrench at Alfred, looking back at his companion.

The other gave a bark of laughter. "Just pick him up and let's get going."

Bear leaned down and picked him up around the waist and threw him over his shoulder. The throw jerked the air out of his lungs, causing him to gasp, but the gentle sway of the walking lulled Alfred back under.

The next and last time Alfred awoke, he was lying on something soft. It took a lot less effort to open his eyes. Once the room stopped spinning, he took his time to sit up. When no one immediately came to his aid, he took in the room.

The far wall was entirely windows and showed the peaceful ocean going about its business. Fish swam around the distant neon lights of buildings and under rock formations in the ground. A shark meandered into a cave off to the right of the windows. Inside the room, the walls were a boring brown and the furniture a faded lime green. Once he fully sat up, he realized he was situated on the couch. The double bed on the other side of the room had someone resting on top of the dark green comforter.

"Ve, Holy Roma," the person on the bed, whom Alfred identified as Feliciano, said.

Alfred rubbed his head. "Ugh," he groaned. "Why does it feel like I was hit by a truck and burned alive at the same time?"

He stood up slowly and made his way over to the Italian resting in the bed. Maybe he knew something Alfred didn't.

"Feliciano," Alfred said, shaking him, "It's time to get up. Come on, Feli."

Feliciano rolled over, away from Alfred, and curled into a ball. "Cinque più minuti, Germania," he mumbled.

Alfred sighed. "Italy, wake up. Seriously, we don't have time for this," he said, shaking Feliciano's shoulder harder.

"Wha-what?" Feliciano blinked in confusion as he sat up on the bed. "Alfred? Where are we?"

"Ye're in me private rooms."

Alfred spun and looked at the intruder. He hadn't heard the door open. The man looked like he was in his late thirties, early forties. His short brown hair was brushed back away from his face and his brown eyes were calculating, watching the duo by the bed. This sleeves of his white button up were stained with dirt, blood, and other grime, and his pants were in a similar state: no longer pressed nicely and covered in who knows what. Surprisingly, the suspensors the man wore were as elastic as ever.

"Who are you?" Alfred demanded. Feli was weak; Alfred had to protect him.

"Th' names' Atlas. I had some o' my underlings bring ye lads here."

Alfred stared some more at this Atlas character as he spoke. Every country had a connection to their own citizens, even when they moved somewhere new, and Alfred could feel that connection with Atlas. Sure, it was slightly muted because he most likely considered himself a citizen of Rapture, but you never really gave up where you grew up. If the man was really Irish, like his accent suggested, Alfred wouldn't feel any connection to him. He could also pick up hints of Brooklyn under the Irish lit.

"You're not Irish," Alfred blurted. Shit. He didn't mean to say that out loud. Oh well, time to run with that conversation.

"Excuse me, boyo?" Atlas growled.

"Alfred, what do you mean?" Feliciano asked, moving off the bed to stand up.

Alfred ignored the Italian. "You were born and grew up in the States. Why do you fake an Irish accent?"

Atlas scowled. "That's none of your business, boyo."

Alfred scowled right back at him. "You made it our business when you brought us here."

"Ye all haven't been down in the city long enough to know what happened between Fontaine and Ryan last year," he said, going on a tangent, "Fontaine wanted to take over Rapture and bring Plasmids to the surface, and Ryan didna want that. Hoarding the shiny new tech all to himself. In the scuffle, Fontaine died. I was Fontaine; and now, I'm Atlas. I'm taking down Ryan from the inside out, and ye're gonna help me."

"What makes you think we'd willingly do that?" Alfred asked.

"Once I take over, I can get yuh a bathysphere to th' surface, no problem. Ryan shut them all down for good yesterday. No one enters or leaves without his explicit say-so. We have a deal boyo?

Alfred's scowl deepened. "Give us a minute to talk it over."

Atlas smiled. "Take all th' time ye need. I'm in no hurry, but I should let ye know:" His voice took on a deeper tone and he switched back to his normal dialect. "I got underlings in ev'ry part of Rapture that support my cause. Yuh refuse an' life can get very hard for you and your little friend t'ere." He stared for another moment at the duo before walking over to the bar across the room and pouring himself a drink.

Alfred turned to Feliciano and whispered, "I think our only choice is to help him until we can locate Ludwig and Kiku and find a way out of here."

Feliciano nodded. "Sì, I agree, but we have to be careful."

Alfred tried to smile at Feliciano encouragingly. "Don't worry, Feli, we'll get out of this." He pointed his thumb to himself. "I'm the hero after all." Feliciano grimaced at Alfred's poor attempt to cheer him up. There wasn't much to smile about at the moment.

Alfred turned to Atlas, serious once more. "We'll help you."

Atlas turned to the Countries with a glass in his hand and a smile on his face. He made no move to offer either man a drink. "I'm glad ye've chosen to work with me instead of against me," he said in his fake accent.

"You haven't given us much of a choice here," Alfred countered, crossing his arms angrily.

Atlas shrugged in response. "There's always a choice." He took a sip of his drink. "Since we're all on th' same side now, I should let ye know, Alfred—can I call you Alfred?—" He didn't wait for a response. "—two of my former subordinates injected Incinerate into you."

Alfred's arms went slack. "The Pl-Plasmid?"

Atlas nodded with fake sympathy. "They were too smug when they brought ye in; thinkin' they had gotten one over on me. Foockin' idiots."

"Is there a way to get rid of it?" Alfred asked, shaking slightly. This was bad.

Atlas frowned. "No' at the mo'ent. At best, ye can just not take any EVE to so ye willna use the Plasmid, but your body will still crave the substance even if ye never use Incinerate. At worst, ye'll become so spliced that no one will be able to recognize you anymore," he said nonchalantly.

Alfred swallowed hard, trying not to collapse where he stood. He knew Rapture wasn't a pretty place to be, but he stuck around anyway and paid the price. He was Icarus, thinking he was fine and in control, flying too close to the sun, if the sun was the fucking crazy citizens that lived in the city. He never expected anything to happen to him.

Feliciano gave Alfred's shoulder a reassuring squeeze that was hopefully felt through the minute trembling. He would stay with Alfred regardless of what the Plasmid would do to him.

"I'll let ye two settle in. Ye can stay in this room for ye're stay in Rapture. I doubt ye'll be getting your room at the Monseñor back anytime soon." He put his now empty glass down and left the room without another word.

The two Countries were silent as they stared at the closed door Atlas left through. They were both in shock. Alfred was going to be addicted to a glowing blue product without any hope for a cure, even if he ignored it completely. And Feliciano might never see any of his family again, dying slowly in Rapture away from everything he loves.

Alfred blankly walked over to the couch and sank into it. Feliciano followed him and sat down next to the American.

There had to be a way. Even people that were addicted to the most addicting of substances could be cured if they tried hard enough. Although treatment normally included being separated from the addiction. Alfred shivered. He knew he didn't have enough willpower to resist the Plasmid. He would use it at one point (whether voluntary or accidentally remained to be seen), but he would, and he would want more. He would use all the EVE in his body that came with the initial Plasmid injector, and he would want more. More Plasmids, more EVE. It wasn't painting a pretty picture in his brain. It was inevitable, and Alfred knew it. He would be stuck down in Rapture until America completely disappeared and he died for good. Nothing short of that would hurt him. There had to be a way. Another Country, maybe a City…

Alfred's eyes lit up as he sat a little straighter. "We need to find Rapture."

Chapter Text

"Maybe this is why so many serial killers work in pairs. It's nice not to feel alone in a world full of victims or enemies. It's no wonder Waltraud Wagner, the Austrian Angel of Death, convinced her friends to kill with her. It just seems natural. You and me against the world... "

-Chuck Palahniuk, Lullaby: A Novel, 2003

Feliciano looked at Alfred, furrowing his brows and scrunching his face in confusion. "We're in Rapture. We don't need to find it."

Alfred stood up, newfound determination in his eyes. "No, no, no; the embodiment of Rapture. I met her once when she first showed up. Came to a meeting about ten years ago, then never showed up again."

Feliciano bit his lip, thinking for a moment. He vaguely remembered a sickly looking brunette girl that had a glowing blue eye and weird glowing blue veins on one side of her face. "Didn't she hate you?" he asked.

Alfred waved away the Italian's concern. "How can anyone hate me? I'm the hero!"

Feliciano sighed. "How do you expect to even find her? I mean, she's probably not going to just be hanging around waiting for another Country to show up, is she? Do you even know her human name?"

The American shrugged. "We'll figure it out as we go along. Besides, I remember her holding a rose and staring at it with such a smug smile on her face. I overheard her telling Latvia that she'd grown them without any sunlight. We'll start our search in Arcadia. Come on." He grabbed Feliciano's arm and starting pulling him from the room.

"Where d'ya think yu're goin'?" a man in dirty, gray slacks and a dark blue shirt asked from the other end of the hallway. Feliciano stayed behind Alfred in an attempt to stay hidden and out of the line of fire. It wasn't very successful.

"Out," Alfred snapped. "I didn't think there was any law against it."

The man walked closer and thrust a duffle bag into Alfred's hands, making him to stumble back a step.

"Altas says yous fellas has a job; details in the bag," he said and turned around and walked away, shouting over his shoulder, "Also says to say 'yous live in my home, yous earn your keep.' Wouldn't piss 'im off if I was yous." He turned the corner and was gone.

They retreated back into the relative safety of the room. Alfred set the bag onto the ground and unzipped it. Feliciano kneeled down next to him. He picked up the packet of paper on top and flipped it open.

"What's it say?" Alfred asked eagerly.

Feliciano sucked in a breath—Termination Order—was stamped across the top of the page. The rest of the page listed the man's name, address, and known associates. There was even a grainy picture of him just so there would be no mistakes. "He—he wants us to kill someone," he said quietly.

"Lemme see." Alfred snatched the papers and flipped through them.

The Italian took a deep breath to calm himself then opened the duffle bag and pulled out a shotgun. Underneath it were a bunch of bullets for the shotgun, and a pistol (which also had a handful of bullets). The pistol was almost like an afterthought with how it was shoved in the corner of the bag.

"Do we have to do this?" Feliciano asked, setting the shotgun down gingerly.

Alfred closed the papers and put them down, slowly unclenching his hand. It was a miracle the paper was still in one piece. "I don't think we have much of a choice, Feli. You heard that guy. We don't want to piss off Atlas."

"We're also Countries. We don't stay injured if the country itself is not damaged." Though, they did have to keep their bodies healthy because the more damage they take, the longer it takes to heal.

"I know that, and you know that," Alfred said, "but we aren't sure if Atlas knows that, or he thinks we're just diplomats for our countries. We can't let him in on the fact that we're basically immortal. Who knows what he'd do to us."

"I don't think it's Atlas we'd have to worry about He'd probably give us to someone more crazy," Feliciano reasoned.

"That's true." Alfred closed his eyes, took a breath to steady himself. When he opened them, gone was the hopelessness, and in its place was unwavering might and determination. "Listen, Italy, we're going to find a way out of here." Alfred grabbed the shotgun and loaded four bullets into it. He dropped it and picked up the pistol and loaded the bullets into it. "We just need to do these few things for Atlas, and while we do what he wants, we'll search for Rapture." He held out the pistol to Feliciano.

The Italian bit his lip and took the pistol. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

Alfred shrugged and dropped all the extra bullets into the Italian's backpack, along with the papers, leaving the duffle in the room. "We don't have much of a choice." He stood up and aimed the shotgun, testing the weight and feel. "Just stay behind me and keep the pistol out in case we get attacked." Feliciano stood.

He froze and Alfred continued stalking forward. He looked down at the pistol lying innocently in his hands. "I…I don't feel comfortable with a gun. Couldn't I just wave my flag?" Feliciano asked, pulling a white flag from his pocket, waving it lightly.

Alfred slowly turned around, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Feliciano could tell he was questioning how Ludwig put up with him on a regular basis. "That won't stop Splicers from shooting you. Listen to me, Italy," he said, putting his hands on Feliciano's shoulders to keep his attention. They locked eyes. "You can't pull your normal antics down here. You do that and we both end up dead, and that'll only delay us trying to find Ludwig and Kiku. I've been down here longer than you, and I've been watching the Splicers and the citizens of this city interact with each other. They. Have. No. Mercy. You have to defend yourself."

"I don't think I can sh-shoot anyone," the Italian whimpered.

"Why don't you just use the wrench in your bag?" Alfred said like it was obvious.

Feliciano gulped. "I…I don't know."

Alfred pursed his lips and thought for a second. He snapped his fingers and made grabby hands. "I got it! Lemme see the wrench and your flag."

"Why?" he asked, and pulled out both items.

"You'll see. Just hand them over."

Alfred snatched up the two objects and turned his back to Feliciano to conceal whatever he was making. A few seconds later, he turned back, only this time, the white surrender flag was tied around the dirty, red wrench.

"There," he said with a triumphant smile and handed the weapon back over to the trembling older country. "Now, when you wave it around, you'll also be protecting yourself at the same time."

Alfred picked up the pistol from where it dropped on the ground and pocketed it.

Feliciano tried to smile, but it came out more of a grimace. "Thanks, Alfred."

Alfred smiled and shot Feliciano a thumbs-up. "You're welcome, Feliciano, now," Alfred shouldered the shotgun and straightened out his shirt, "let's go take care of this asshole so we can start looking for Germany and Japan."

Alfred started down the hallway again and Feliciano followed half a step behind.

"How can you talk so lightly about killing someone?" Feliciano asked after a few minutes of walking.

Alfred shrugged. "Different mindset, I guess. Like being in the war again. I fight in every war America gets involved in. If I can prevent one more boy from getting drafted and most likely killed, that's a win for me."

Feliciano contemplated that thought. He tended to stay away from the fighting, regardless of whom was doing it. He couldn't imagine fighting in all the wars Italy got involved in.

The conversation died off from there and the two countries continued to walk in silence. A few minutes after they set out, they reached a bulkhead that Alfred knew lead to Olympus Heights.

Alfred turned back to Feliciano. "Okay, we're going to have to be really careful not to be caught from this point on. While we're here, try to keep an eye out for Ludwig and Kiku." He paused." You should probably take off your coat. It's very noticeable." Feliciano nodded and balled up his jacket, placing it in his backpack. Up until that point, they hadn't run into many people, and the few that they had, they had kept to themselves. This area wasn't known for its socialization.

Alfred spun the bulkhead wheel and pushed the heavy door open. The two stepped in and shut the airtight door behind them. They walked the five feet over to the other side and repeated their actions. They held their breath when the second door scraped against the track. When no one came running, Alfred pushed it all the way open and the two exited. He closed it behind them and waited with bated breath, to see if anyone would come check. The only sound they heard was dripping from an overhead leak and a distant rumble.

"Okay, I think we're good. Let's go," Alfred whispered and started walking. They exited the one part and came to an area with two sets of rail tracks with a raised platform in the center. There was a group of people rocking a tram system car, trying to derail it. People further away were shouting encouragement and waving weapons in the air.

The duo walked around the riot and were almost at the exit that lead towards Mercury Suites when metal crashed onto the ground, shaking the entire area and the crowd cheered. Feliciano turned around and saw the tram car off its track, leaning half onto the platform. The people started to light it on fire as Alfred pulled his arm to keep him moving.

Feliciano looked back at Alfred, who had a white knuckled grip on his gun. Feliciano's eyes darted each and every way at any and all sounds. If Alfred was this nervous, what does that say about him? It was probably a miracle, he hadn't broken the wrench in half with his grip.

"I haven't been in this area for, at most, three days, and this place has gone to hell," Alfred said as the duo stepped into the lobby of Mercury Suites.

Feliciano noticed that most of the furniture and walls were either now frozen over or looked like they had been set on fire. Every once in a while, a bee flew by, not attacking anyone, but looking for food. Many doors on the lower floors were off their hinges and no one paid the dirt covered pair of Countries any mind since most people's clothing were also in various states of disrepair.

People on the higher floors had guns out over the railings and shot at anyone who got too close. One elevator was smashed to pieces at the bottom of the shaft, while the other one had a broken cord, but was held by one side up at the fifth floor.

Alfred led Feliciano away from the main stairs up and towards the back stairs, not wanting to get shot at trying to go upstairs.

"The guy we want is on the third floor staring at Fontaine's old apartment," Alfred told Feliciano, forgetting that Feliciano had also read those papers. Feliciano gulped and gripped the wrench tighter.

"So," Alfred began as they climbed the stairs to the third floor. "I'm going to go first and get the guy, while you keep an eye out for any Splicers, gun-wielding maniacs, and Germany and Japan. Got it?" Feliciano nodded fearfully. "Okay." He pushed open the door and looked around before exiting the stairwell. After seeing no one pointing a gun towards them, he started to sneak down the open hallway towards the man sitting on a wooden chair. He had several cameras surrounding him, and a thermos at his feet.

Alfred glanced back at Feliciano, who was backed against the wall keeping an eye out. It was quiet. For now.

Chapter Text

"Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol or morphine or idealism."

-Carl Gustav Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, 1963

The American snuck behind the paparazzo, accidentally kicking a stray bullet. The man looked up, saw Alfred, and jumped up, knocking over his chair. He tripped away from Alfred, trying to put some distance between Alfred's gun and himself. Alfred always hated killing people. This was for survival and nothing else.

The man reached for his own gun, and Alfred fired into his side, causing him to fall to the ground, shouting out in pain. He groaned and cursed, trying to roll back over onto his front, but Alfred stepped onto the back of his neck, holding him in place. The man tried one more time to get up, but Alfred pressed harder and snapped his neck. When Alfred stepped away, he left bloody marks on the corpse.

The fight had distracted him causing him to forgot about Feliciano and he turned back towards the other Country when he shouted. Feliciano was surrounded by five Splicers and was forced into a corner. Feliciano was too scared to even try waving is flag, basically curling into a ball.

Alfred took his shotgun and fired the remaining three rounds into three of the Splicers, weakening them. "Shit," he hissed, trying to fire more rounds. He slipped the gun onto his shoulder and pulled the pistol from his pocket, firing the six rounds. He managed to kill four of them and injure another. That one was killed as Feliciano got some nerve and swung as hard as he could in front of him. It was pretty impressive considering his eyes were clenched tightly shut.

The last one growled at the loss of her friends and swung her pipe towards the Italian's head, who somehow had sensed an attack coming and bunkered down in the corner again, arms wrapped around his head.

Alfred instinctively thrust his hand out and snapped, fire leapt out of his hand a hit the remaining Splicer. She screeched in pain and dropped her weapon, trying to put out the flames that had caught on her dress. She flailed around, screaming and moved too close to the side railing, flipping over the edge, tumbling down into the atrium below.

Alfred ran to the edge of the open hallway and grabbed it with both hands, looking down at the unfortunate Splicer as she fell three stories. She hit the ground, hard, bones breaking through her skin in multiple places, and head smashed into the ground. Blood pooled around the prone (and still aflame) figure.

Alfred stared at his hands in shock. How had he done that? Was that what Plasmids felt like? It was so nice.

A bullet hit the railing next to his hand; Alfred jerked away, shocked out of his reverie. Three people on the opposite fourth floor aimed their guns at the American. He backed up out of their firing range before they could harm him.

He turned back to Feliciano, who was staring in shock at the bodies. "Come on, Italy, we need to get out of here," Alfred urged, pulling up the Italian.

He nodded numbly and stumbled after Alfred and they went down the first two flights of stairs. A group of men had decided to stop the duo from continuing down the stairwell any further by standing on the landing in a row.

"This way!" Alfred pulled Feliciano through the second floor doorway. They fled towards the main stairs leading down to the lobby. It wasn't the safest place, but neither were those stairs.

Bullets flew through the air, missing them by inches and hitting the ground behind them as they continued to flee out of the lobby and back to the tram station. They stopped in an alcove to catch their breath.

Alfred smirked and looked at Feliciano, "Well, that was fun."

Ludwig bent down and picked up the innocent red envelope that was slid under his door. He had yet to take a shower, clad only in a light blue bathrobe, and nursed a cup of coffee as he contemplated on how to get out of this hellhole. Rumor going around was that there were no more trips to the surface, which was going to be a problem. They had heard the receptionist say the same earlier with the crowd, but they hadn't believed her at the time.

The German set his coffee down and ripped open the envelope. Similar handwriting to the original invite down to Rapture stared up at him: Andrew Ryan is pleased to invite you to the Rapture Masquerade Ball 1959 located at Kashmir Restaurant. Hope to see you then. And then under that, Masks Required.

Ludwig signed. Ryan was flaunting his wealth and good fortune, and he was pushing his luck. It was bound to run out soon. He put the letter down and took a quick shower, changing into casual clothes.

A knock on his door pulled Ludwig away from putting the finishing touches on his hair. He pulled the door open and let Kiku in. "Did you get an invite as well," Kiku asked as he entered.

Ludwig nodded. "We'll have to go get outfits. I didn't bring anything for a Masquerade."

"The shopping area that we were in last night will most likely have everything we need."

"You're right. We should get going now. I don't want to be out too late if we can help it," Ludwig said.

"Hai.." They went shopping and took a slightly different route back due to a disturbance on their original route. The new route took them through the lobby of Mercury Suites. Their pleasant walk was interrupted by a gunshot. The two hunkered down behind a plant in an instant, hoping they weren't the target. Another series of gunshots broke the silence.

Ludwig stood a bit taller, pulling the gun from his waistband (he could never be too careful) and leaned around the plant, checking to see if anyone was around them. He inched away from the hiding place with Kiku close on his heels.

"What's going on?" Kiku asked.

"I don't know," Ludwig said.

More gunshots and a shout that sounded suspiciously like Feliciano came from across the building. Ludwig and Kiku shared a quick glance. Had they heard right?

Something orange and red flickered in the corner of Ludwig's vision and he turned just in time to see a woman—who was most defiantly on fire—flip over the edge of the open hallway and crash to the floor below.

"Sheiße," Ludwig breathed in shock.

"Does that look like Alfred-san to you?" Kiku asked, nodding toward the blond haired man leaning over the edge of the hallway also watching the flaming body.

"Maybe. I don't—" Multiple people shot at the man. He spun around and ran away from the edge. "I think it is. It looked like his bomber jacket."

A few seconds later, maybe-Alfred came running out onto the stairs leading down from the second floor. He pulled a brown haired man in a blue military uniform (sans jacket) behind him. The man glanced back at the men they were running from and Ludwig saw a curl bounce as his head moved.

"Italy," Ludwig said, exasperated, and then his words caught up to his brain. "It's Italy!" Ludwig tried to see where the two Nations disappeared off to, but they had already left Mercury Suites.

Everyone calmed down slightly and guns got put away. Some people went back into their apartments and bolted the door. Ludwig once again hid his gun and stretched out of his crouch.

"Did Alfred-san say anything about coming down here?" Kiku asked, as they headed back to their hotel.

"Nothing, but we didn't say where we were going for the holidays either. How did Feliciano get down here? He didn't get an invite. He would've told me," Ludwig said.

"He probably followed us," Kiku reasoned. Ludwig sighed. This just got more complicated.

"You were great in there, Italy!" Alfred shouted.

Feliciano panted as he tried to get his breathing under control. He could've sworn that he heard someone yell his name as they ran out of the complex. "Really?" he asked, panting.

The American nodded and started to reload his guns. "Come on, it's time to try and find Rapture."

Alfred started to walk away and Feliciano followed.

"Do you have any idea where she is? You mentioned Arcadia. I've been inside, and it's huge." Feliciano asked.

"It's a good as place as any to start. Maybe someone will know who she is and point us in the right direction."

Feliciano grimaced. He didn't think anybody would be of much help. The gardener was nice, but Feliciano didn't remember where his little shack was located, and he didn't think the man would appreciate them barging in and bringing trouble. He followed the younger Nation, tightening his grip on the bloody wrench/flag. This was not going to end well.

Feliciano was right. It'd been a half hour, and they were lost. Alfred had thought he knew his way around, but they had somehow made their way back to the working class neighborhood of Rapture, so now they were just trying to find a place to stay for the night. Maybe the way back to Atlas' rooms. The weird thing was that Alfred knew the way to Mercury Suites earlier with no trouble.

Girlish laughter echoed down the hall. Oh no, was she lost? This place wasn't safe for a little girl. Feliciano drifted away, still keeping Alfred in his line of sight, trying to find the girl and help her to a safe place.

"Come on, Mr. Bubbles! There are angels this way," the girl sang, coming around the corner.

Her long hair was pulled up into a ponytail and swung behind her as she skipped. Her tattered, bloody, red dress flying up with each step. In her hand was a sharp syringe type device with, what looked like, a baby bottle screwed onto the top. It had a bright glowing red liquid inside. One of the men in the diving suits lumbered after her, eyes glowing yellow.

"Hi, little girl," Feliciano said to the small child, leaning down.

She stopped skipping, eerie yellow eyes staring wide-eyed at him for a moment before she screamed and ran back to the man in the diving suit.

"Mr. B., help!" she screeched.

"Ahh, wait!" Feliciano reached out towards her, and the eyes on the diving suit turned an angry red.

The drill powered up and struck Feliciano on the side faster than he could dodge.

Feliciano screamed, hot tears pouring down his cheeks as he flew into the wall. He didn't try to get up and curled into a ball as best he could with half his chest torn to shreds. He just had to wait until his body healed itself. If he wasn't a Nation, he wouldn't even be breathing right now. He could barely breath as it was.

The diving suit groaned and stomped towards Feliciano. His gasping breath quickened and he tried to sink into the wall. The drill sped up and rose, ready to strike again. Feliciano curled tighter and stared at the drill in fear, waiting.

Chapter Text

"In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit."

-Albert Schweitzer

Alfred knew they were lost, but he didn't care. He knew, in some distant corner of his mind, that he should care, and that he should care that he didn't care, but he didn't. He was sure they started going in the right direction, but at some point, they got turned around. He just wanted to lie down and rest. He had heard the girlish laughter, but he knew what a bad idea it was to try and talk with the girl, so he ignored it. Until, of course, he heard the Little Sister scream.

The American turned to make sure the Big Daddy wasn't targeting him or Feliciano, but didn't see the other Nation anywhere. "Fuck. Where the fuck is he?"

A drill revved and Alfred cursed again, sprinting towards the sound. He had an awful feeling in his gut. Feliciano screeched, his screams reverberating in the halls.

Alfred turned the corner and watched Feliciano fly into the wall and the Big Daddy advance towards him, drill speeding up.

He shot off the six rounds in his pistol as fast as he could, but it didn't do much damage. On the plus side, it took the Big Daddy's attention off of Feliciano and onto Alfred. Down side, Alfred now had an angry Big Daddy after him.

Alfred struggled to put the armor-piercing rounds into the gun, and the Big Daddy got close enough to strike with the drill. Alfred thrust his hand out and snapped without a thought. The Big Daddy caught on fire and stumbled back a step. He finished loading the gun and shot it a couple more times. Still not down for the count, the Big Daddy raised its rivet gun.

Alfred snapped again, sending a small bit of flame at it. Immediately after, he felt drained in a way he couldn't explain. No time to figure it out, though. Two more bullets found their home in the Big Daddy and it collapsed on the ground: dead.

The Little Sister ran up to him and started to cry, shaking his shoulder, trying to get him to respond. She dropped her ADAM syringe on the ground, ignoring it.

"Mr. Bubbles! You have to wake up! Please, Mr. B.!" she cried.

"Hey, kid," Alfred said, kneeling down to her level, but still a bit aways, "you need to get out of here before more Splicers come."

She sniffled a few more times, thick tears running off her chin. She pat the Big Daddy on its head as a silent goodbye, then took off to the nearest Hidey Hole.

Alfred stood up and flexed his hands, trying to rid them of the minute shaking that started when the fight ended. He felt…empty. Like something was missing. He tried to form a small fire in his palm, but nothing happened. It felt like he was scraping against a raw wound instead of the smooth flow he felt the other times. Why didn't his Plasmid work anymore? Can they…run out?

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. The adrenalin faded away, but his hands continued to lightly shake as he scanned the area.

His eye caught the glowing red liquid in the Little Sister's syringe. It sang to him. Nothing else mattered at the moment as he walked over to it in a daze. He had to have it. He needed it. Alfred unscrewed the top and raised the bottle to his lips.

A groan of pain from Feliciano shocked Alfred from his trance and he threw the syringe away in disgust, the unfiltered ADAM spreading across the floor.

Alfred gripped his head in pain. What just happened? Did he almost…? Why would he do such a thing? It wasn't like him to be drawn to something as silly as a glowing liquid. It looked so wonderful, though—no! He couldn't focus on that right now. He would figure it out later. He didn't have time now; he needed to help Feliciano.

Alfred shook the thoughts out and rushed to the Italian's side. "You okay?" he asked. Dumb question. There was blood all over the floor and Feliciano.

He cracked open an eye, "It hurts," he whimpered.

Alfred's hands fluttered over Feliciano's side. Never touching, but trying to see the damage. "I know, I know. I'm going to find a First Aid Kit. Stay here and try not to move, okay?" Feliciano nodded and curled into himself tighter. That would have to do for now.

Alfred went in search of a kit and located one a couple of hallways over. He bought it, hoping one would be enough to heal Feliciano. He wasn't sure what they had inside of them.

A blue glow caught his eye from under a pile of garbage halfway back to Feliciano. He pulled the EVE hypo free and weighed his options. He could use it and be able to produce fire with his Plasmid again, ridding himself of this empty feeling, or he could drop it on the floor and walk away.

Addiction was awful, and Alfred hated the feeling. If he kept using the EVE, it would only get worse, but he kept subconsciously trying to use fire, and that grating feeling returned every time. He was a hero, and it never looked good for the hero if they were addicted to something, but it called to him. Not nearly as much as the ADAM did, but something inside him called out.

He held it against the opposite inner arm, needle pressing down, but not yet breaking the skin. Just a little more pressure and he would feel whole again. Just a little more.

"No!" he shouted, screwing his eye shut and pulling the hypo away from his arm. He didn't throw it, not like what he did with the ADAM. He would not give into temptation, not now. He had a friend to help.

Alfred stared at the hypo. He should throw it away. That would be the responsible thing to do. But what if he needed it again and didn't have it. That wouldn't be good.

Unable to make a decision, he pocketed the hypo and continued to Feliciano. He would figure out what to do with it later. Everything was later.

Feliciano was still curled up. It didn't look like anyone new had messed with him while he was alone. Good.

"You'll be fine, Feli, just stay still while I heal you, okay," Alfred soothed, opening the kit. He nodded weakly, silent tears pouring down his face.

Inside the kit was a roll of bandages, some antiseptic, a bandage clip, and a small glowing red syringe. Printed on the inside lid was a set of instructions: 1) Inject syringe contents close to injured area. Wait at least thirty seconds. 2) Rub antiseptic on injury. 3) Wrap and clip bandages around injury.

Alfred uncapped the syringe and tapped it a couple times to get rid of the air bubbles. He set it gently back down and pulled the remains of Feliciano's shirt off and out of the way. Without the shirt blocking the injury, it looked so much worse. Feliciano's entire left side of his stomach was mangled, blood steadily pouring out from around exposed bones and muscles. Alfred swore he could see an organ poking into the open air. He was surprised the man was even still alive.

The syringe was emptied into Feliciano's bloodstream, just above the large hole, and within thirty seconds, the wound was much smaller. The blood was gushing a lot less, now just oozing lightly. The muscle knitted itself back together around the reforming ribs. It was still pretty bad. It was a much faster healing than any Country could do on their own, though. Alfred spread the antiseptic on what was left of the gaping wound and wrapped it in the bandages. They were saturated with blood in seconds, but it was better than nothing.

Feliciano grunted and moaned, face pinching in pain, as he pushed himself up from the floor and leaned against the wall. "Grazie," he breathed. He rummaged sluggishly through his backpack and pulled out his jacket, slipping it back on so he wasn't topless.

"Are you going to be okay enough to move to get back to the rooms?" Alfred asked. He didn't fully understand why he was helping this guy. He was injured and frankly more of a hinderance than a help at the moment. He felt like he should know him, but it wasn't clicking at the moment. He knew they were working together, though.

Feliciano bit his lip, sucking in quick breaths in pain as he stood up, using the wall as support. "I think so…" He was standing, but was favoring his good side. It was astonishing how he could even move in that state.

Alfred let the shorter Country lean on him as they slowly maid their way back to the room, EVE hypo sitting heavily in Alfred's pocket.

Alfred sat on the couch, hunched over, staring at the bright, glowing EVE hypo resting in his shaking hands.

They had finally made it back after limping around Rapture, asking meager directions from the few people that would give them the time of day. The ones who were dumb enough, and couldn't read the room, asked for money, EVE, ammo, or weapons in return for their services, and they were met with the deep, penetrating stare of a multi-century year old Country that was pissed beyond belief. They were very helpful after that.

Feliciano's wound was healing nicely and the remaining injury would be half healed come morning. He was currently knocked out on the bed, exhausted from the day's events.

The EVE withdrawal symptoms set in within an hour of setting out. At first, he had only been shaking lightly, not enough to be noticeable, but now he had broken out into a cold sweat and his shaking was bad enough that he couldn't hold anything steady. Either Feliciano hadn't noticed because of the blood loss and shock, or he had chosen to ignore it and focus on getting someplace safe to heal.

Alfred ran a hand through his hair, trying to come up with a better idea than the only one he had. His eyes never left the EVE hypo on his lap. "This is a bad idea." He sighed heavily. "I can't believe I'm going to do this. This will be the only time. I refuse to do it again," he mumbled to himself, psyching himself up, "I won't do it again, or use up the EVE with the Plasmid," he reassured himself. "If I don't use the Plasmid, then I'll crave less EVE 'cause it'll still be in my body… That has to work." He held the needle close to his left arm. "It…it has to." He wished he could close his eyes, but then he wouldn't be able to place the needle in the right spot. Not that he really knew if there was a right spot, but he could hope. He plunged the hypo into his arm, biting his lip to keep from crying out in pain.

The glowing blue liquid drained out of the hypo and into Alfred's body, spreading warmth in its path and erasing the emptiness, which he had felt since used up the EVE hours earlier.

He pulled the hypo from his arm, wound closing within seconds with a quiet sizzle.

Alfred sighed in satisfaction and leaned back into the couch, relaxing as the shaking started to subside. He could rest here forever, floating and being without any pain. The hypo slid out of hand and plunked on the ground.

This is what he needed. No worries, just fullness. He felt much better.

Alfred woke up the next morning, neck stiff from sleeping sitting up on the couch. He stood up and stretched, popping his neck and back. Once that was taken care of, it was like he had never slept weird. No aches or pains, only a well rested body.

He looked around in confusion, poking at some of the random magazines and knick-knacks on the coffee table. This didn't look like his hotel room at Hotel Monseñor. A snore startled Alfred; he dropped the magazine, it landed with a thump. He spun to the bed and stared at the sleeping brown haired man. Who was that?

The man snored and rolled a bit, curl springing up into the air. Alfred gasped, doubling over and clenching his head. Right. Feliciano, a Big Daddy, and a really bad injury. Alfred stood up straight again and rubbed his head, mussing his hair. He paused. It had happened last night, too. He had forgotten who Feli was for a moment. That couldn't be good if he was forgetting Feliciano.

He walked over to the bed and peaked at the injury under the blanket. It was no longer bleeding, probably a lot smaller, too. Alfred grabbed a damp towel and washed the sweat from Feli's face. He still had a lot of healing to do, and most likely wouldn't be up until tomorrow morning, at the earliest.

Knock, knock

Alfred rushed over to the door and pulled it open wide, stepping into the hallway to avoid waking Feliciano. "What?"

A scruffy man in shredded dark slacks and a deep blue-black shirt stood with a pile of papers.

"'Ere," he grunted, pushing the papers at Alfred's chest, letting go almost too soon if Alfred hadn't raised his own arms to catch them. The man walked away without another word. Alfred waiting until he was out of sight around the corner before going back into the room.

He dropped the papers onto the coffee table and looked them over. Headshots and addresses covered the pages. Some were nearby, others on the other side of Rapture. All of them seemed to be on Ryan's side of this civil war.

Atlas had assigned him more hits to be carried out by New Year's Eve in two days. 'Fifty per hit' was sprawled across the bottom of the top page with two twenty and two five dollar notes attached.

Alfred growled lowly, wanting nothing more than to wring Atlas' thick neck then dump him out an airlock, but there was no way to get that close to him. He should've done that when he was in the room before.

He sighed and collected the bio pages, tucking them into a pocket. He took half the money—leaving the other half in Feli's bag for him—and the weapons. He had some people to kill.

Chapter Text

"A nation that forgets its past can function no better than an individual with amnesia."

-David C. McCullough

Ludwig and Kiku needed to get custom masks made for the Masquerade Ball in two days. The shop owner had said he would have them done and delivered in time, even with the uptick in orders. They could've bought one of the pre-made ones, but both countries had decided to forgo the creepy masks, and get something made that reminded them a little more of home.

Ludwig had gotten a black eagle with red and yellow details; and Kiku's snow monkey would be white with red details.

They walked down the Fort Frolic street, arms weighted down with shopping bags from the costume and dress shops.

"Mate, seriously, this is your fourth one in the last six hours. You sure you only started last night?" a man in gray swampers, rubber coveralls, and a mongoose mask asked. He stood with three others, a man in a beekeeper suit and cat mask, a blond haired man with a eagle mask, and a dark haired man with a rabbit mask, by a Circus of Values.

"Shut the fuck up, William," the blond said. He fed money into the machine.

Kiku stopped Ludwig from continuing to towards the hotel. "Was ist es?" he asked.

"Does that look like Alfred-san to you?" He nodded over at the blond man.

Ludwig turned and looked over at the man rifling through his pockets looking for loose change. He had a red, white, and blue eagle mask covering his face, but he turned around and the leather jacket couldn't be anything other than Alfred's bomber jacket.

"You have any money?" he asked his buddies.

"Al, mate, I don't think you should take anymore tonight." Alfred turned to face William. "I know it's addicting, but you've had enough."

Alfred tilted his head, considering the man, who returned his stare with one of his own. Not moving any other part of his body, Alfred swiftly pulled a pistol out of his pocket and aimed it at William.

"Hey, you don't have to resort to this!" Rabbit protested.

"Oi!" William shouted, "I don't mean any harm n'it."

"I'm sure there's a peaceful way to resolve this," Rabbit said.

The beekeeper took a subtle step back from the trio, but otherwise said nothing.

Alfred's smile widened, seeming to fill his entire face. His teeth glistened in the overhead lights, and his eyes sparked dangerously. Ludwig and Kiku hadn't seen madness like that in him since his Civil War.

"Mate…Alfred, put the gun down," Rabbit soothed as Alfred pulled back the safety.

William bit out, "This isn't funny—"

BANG!

Alfred pulled the trigger and fired the first round into the guy's skill, showering the other three with blood and gray matter. The few shoppers that were still around quickly ducked into a shop or sped out of the area, not looking back.

"Gross," Beekeeper groused.

"Yah coulda' warned us," Rabbit said, wiping blood from his eyes.

"Shut it, Cameron. I don't wanna be next."

Alfred dug through William's pockets and pulled out a handful of bills, stuffing them all into the machine. He pushed a few buttons and an EVE hypo fell out of the bottom slot. He picked it up, and without hesitating, emptied it into his arm.

Ludwig and Kiku were in shock. They never would have thought that Alfred would use any sort of drugs, especially one as experimental as EVE.

Ludwig had to do something. He handed Kiku his bags and jogged towards the three retreating men.

"Alfred!"

He turned around and stared at Ludwig, hand still on his pistol. "Do I know you?" he asked, eagle mask staring down the German. Ludwig hated that look. It was the same look he got at the World Meeting right before two bombs were dropped on Japan. It was not a nice look.

"Al, it's me, Ludwig," he replied hesitantly. It was never good to test Alfred if he was in a bad mood. "Don't you recognize me?"

"No. Sorry." He turned away from Ludwig. "Let's go, fellas." Ludwig was stunned. Alfred started walking away, rabbit following. Beekeeper took a couple steps, then turned around and walked back.

"If it makes you feel better, EVE causes memory loss the more you use it, so it's not a surprise he don't recognize you." He walked away after that.

Kiku jogged over to Ludwig, bags swinging. "I heard."

"We'll get him back," Ludwig pledged, "And we'll find Feli, if it's the last thing I do. We'll get them both out of here."

Feliciano groaned and rolled over, blindly reaching out for whomever he shared a bed with that night to cling to them. When his hands reached nothing but empty air, he reluctantly opened his eyes and saw the decaying wall of his current bedroom. Right, he was in Rapture.

His entire body felt stiff, like he hadn't moved in a couple days. He gingerly maneuvered onto his back and tried to sit up, arms shaking as he pushed himself up against the headboard. Oh, his belly hurt. Feliciano's hands fluttered around the area and felt the stiff, crusty bandages wrapped around his torso. "Oh, fa male," he whined. Last night was not fun.

Feliciano knew he was annoying, forgetful, and a terrible ally, but he knew his stuff when it came to painting, cooking, and healing. The last was a secret skill that not many, including Ludwig, knew about. His brother, Grandpa Rome, and Big Brother Spain were the only ones who knew.

He slowly made his way over to the attached bathroom and gently removed the bandages, hissing when they pulled the dried blood and gunk from his skin. A washcloth removed the rest of the dried remains on his torso, Feliciano flinching whenever he touched the tender skin. The wound was closed, but it was clear by the pain still radiating from it, it was not fully healed, even with the layer of fresh skin. He blinked away the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes and pulled on a new shirt he found in a dresser.

Everything was going horribly wrong and he wanted to go home.

BANG! Feliciano jumped at the apartment door slamming open.

He wandered out of the bathroom and Alfred was rifling through their meager possessions. He was covered in more blood and dirt than the day before, a bloody eagle mask pushed to the side of his head.

"Alfred?" Feliciano asked quietly.

His head shot up, blood-shot eyes staring at Feliciano with the look of a stranger. If Feliciano didn't know any better, he would say that Alfred didn't know who he was.

"Are you okay?" Feliciano asked, stepping forward.

His eyes cleared, smile appearing on his face. "Feli!" Alfred exclaimed, "You feeling better? You were out all day yesterday."

Yesterday? "What's the date?"

"December thirtieth. The New Year's party is tomorrow." He had lost an entire day.

"Oh, capisco." Alfred nodded and went back to looking through their belongings again.

"Alfred, you got it yet?" a man yelled from the hallway. He poked his head in and Feliciano noticed that he was also covered in blood and dirt. It seemed like everyone was. He had a cat mask over his face.

Alfred pulled a bundle of money from Feliciano's bag and stuffed it in his own pocket. "Yeah, I'm coming," Alfred called back. He picked up his discarded gun from the couch and shouldered it. He turned to look at Feliciano once he got to the door. "I'll be back later, okay. Don't get into any trouble."

"Alfred, wait." He slowly walked towards Alfred and the two jeering men in the hallway. "Are you sure you're okay? You're shaking."

Alfred's hand tightened on the door frame, cracking it with his strength. "I'm fine," he ground out, trying to quell his shaking hands.

"You didn't even know who I was when you came into the room." Alfred didn't respond, only staring silently into the hallway. It was enough of a confession as anything, but wouldn't give him any answers. "Where are you going?" he asked instead.

"It doesn't matter."

Feliciano reached out. "But Al—"

Alfred leapt back from the touch. "No!" His breath came out in heavy pants and the men in the hallway were silent, watching the exchange.

"Something's wrong with you." He didn't drop his hand, taking a step closer.

Alfred glared. "I'm fine. Just drop it, Italy." The two in the hallways glanced at each other in confusion.

Feliciano would not give up, stepping closer still. "We need to find Rapture. She could help."

Alfred swatted the outreached hand away with all the strength he had, causing Feliciano to cry out in pain. "No! I told you, just drop it!" He turned towards the hallway and stalked out of the room. "Let's go." He stomped down the hall, slipping the mask back on. One of the men closed the door in Feliciano's face.

A moment passed before he wrapped his arms around himself and sunk onto the floor. Hot tears poured from his eyes, soaking into his sleeves. He was alone, utterly alone. Feliciano had no idea what to do or how to even survive down in Rapture. Everything he'd done up to this point was sheer luck. He held himself tighter, wishing for Ludwig to come and save him like he always did.

Hours passed just like that. Tears flowing down his cheeks and arms wrapped tight. No one came to his rescue.

"I think you hurt the kid's feelings," John said to Alfred. He wore a beekeeper suit and always had a small amount of bees buzzing around his arms due to the Insect Storm Plasmid in his veins.

Alfred frowned. He didn't mean to hurt Feli, but he kept digging. He couldn't find out what he needed the money for; he wouldn't understand. Alfred almost couldn't admit it to himself.

"Oi, lay aff 'im. I don' think tha' kid's gonna last much longah anyway," Cameron said.

"He's much tougher than you think," Alfred said.

"Whateva ya say, kid."

Chapter Text

"You think wars get started because some old duke gets shot, or someone cuts off someone's ear, or someone's sited their missiles in the wrong place. It's not like that. That's just, well, just reasons, which haven't got anything to do with it. What really causes wars is two sides that can't stand the sight of one another and the pressure builds up and up and then anything will cause it. Anything at all."

-Sir Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, Good Omens, 1990

Feliciano was fidgeting. He couldn't stand still, no matter how many times Alfred nudged his side. It wasn't like any of other people in this crowd were standing still either, so why did he? They were in the large lobby of Fontaine's Home for the Poor awaiting orders for the Masquerade Ball that started in two hours.

An hour ago, Alfred had come back to their room and thrust a green, red, and white wolf mask into Feliciano's hands and told him to wear it. He didn't really get a choice whether or not to listen and slipped it on, not enjoying his now limited range of view.

As for his injuries, besides a small bit of tenderness and a fading scar, he was fully healed. Which was good, and meant he could run away if he needed to. Feliciano fully expected to be running as far away from the fighting as he could. He didn't understand why Alfred was getting involved instead of using this as a perfect opportunity to try and find a way out of Rapture. He didn't understand why he was being forced to participate, either.

He had rinsed and rinsed his surrender flag and had managed to clean it for the most part (it still had some light pink spots), and retie it to the wrench he now held in a death grip. His knuckles were white against the metal. He could survive, this. He had to.

The crowd around him cheered, surging up, and almost caused him to fall over and get trampled. The group of resisters and Splicers were agreeing with whatever Atlas was saying at the front of the room. Alfred and his new friends were among those cheering.

Feliciano stared at Alfred. This was not his friend cheering: this was the Splicer that took over his mind. The Alfred he knew wouldn't be wasting his time to help overthrow a government when he knew that the confusion from the attack would be the perfect time to try and find an escape. He had tried to explain that to Alfred, but he was ignored.

There was only so much Feliciano could do on his own. Maybe he could use the fighting to try and find Ludwig and Kiku. He was sure they were still on good terms with the hotel and would most likely be at the ball as actual guests. Hopefully.

"Come on...what's your name again?" Alfred asked Feliciano.

He flinched. "Feliciano. We've known each other for years, Alfred." Now he knew what that one Country felt like. What was his name again? Oh well, it didn't matter.

"Right, right. Sorry, Italy," Alfred responded, smacking himself on the forehead.

"Why do you keep calling him 'Italy'?" asked John. Feliciano's eye widened. Normal humans tended to have a hard time with the existence of Nations. The bosses were always the hardest to convince. There was a reason why it was kept secret. He hoped that Alfred remembered enough to not tell these humans their secret.

Alfred stopped from shock and tried to remember. "I...don't know. Nickname, I guess." Feliciano let out the breath he was holding. Mena Male. Okay, it was bad that Alfred didn't remember, but he was glad he didn't blow the lid off their secret either.

"Yah 'Talian, kid?" Cameron asked.

Feliciano nodded, readjusting the grip he had on the wrench. "Sì."

The subject was dropped as the group of four made their was towards Kashmir Restaurant. They were part of the first wave as people who could blend in with the crowds still arriving. They weren't as clean as the guests, but at least they looked human, for the most part. The second wave were the less human looking Splicers, and the third wave were Splicer controlled Big Daddies who would guard the doors and prevent anyone from leaving, as well as sniff out any hidden non-resisters.

It was going to be a long night.

Atlas smirked at his underlings as he watched the group of four walk out. These diplomats were so pathetic. Alfred was the perfect little soldier once his previous alliances were forgotten, even with the little hanger-on. Atlas was glad he added a memory modifier in the EVE serum. It made gathering soldiers that much easier.

He had gotten a glimpse of the other two diplomats that had taken up residence in Rapture as they came out of the mask shop. Hopefully one of his men could inject one of them with a Plasmid during the chaos during the ball.

"Joseph!" Atlas barked.

A young man looked up sharply and wandered over.

"What d'you need, boss?" he asked, shouldering his machine gun.

Atlas pulled a picture of the two men from his pocket. "I need ye ta inject one o' these fellas with a Plasmid tonight at the ball. Think ye can do that, boyo?"

Joseph took the picture and studied the men. "If I sneak up on them, should be no problem. Any preference for which one or which Plasmid?"

Atlas smirked. "Surprise me."

"You got it, boss." He started to walk back to his friends when Atlas called out to him. "Yeah, boss?"

"Donna inject both of them. One or the other."

Joseph nodded. "Got it, boss."

Atlas waved off the underling and walked back up to his rooms. He would supervise the invasion from the safety of his own home.

It was going to be a good day.

Ludwig paced his room. He was sure that something was going to happen tonight. He couldn't say what, but he knew it wouldn't be good. Plus, they've had no time to go and search for their friends. They didn't even have any idea of where to start.

He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to wipe away the bad feeling. When that didn't work, he sighed and decided to just head over to Kiku's room.

"Hello, Ludwig-san," Kiku said as he let Ludwig into his room. "Do you have the masks?"

"Ja. I have a bad feeling about tonight."

"Hai, I do as well, but it would be rude not to go." He grabbed his mask off the table and tied it to his head as Ludwig did the same. "I think...we should bring at least one of the guns we received from Sinclair Solutions."

Ludwig nodded. "We'll stop by my room before we leave to get mine. You take yours, just in case." He already had his own gun with him, but it wouldn't hurt to have a second one.

"Hai." Kiku collected the gun and ammo from the Home Consumer Rewards Program kit.

"No holster?" Ludwig asked.

"I couldn't find one."

"I have an extra one, come on." They went back over to the German's room. "I'll be just a second." He went to his bedside table and gathered his gun, two holsters, and the ammo. "Here you are."

"Arigato."

They left Ludwig's room, heading down through the strangely unguarded hallways. Everyone was either getting ready the the Ball or were already there. People dotted the corridors leading up to the restaurant. Elegant dresses and sharp suits contrasted the stark white and gold on most of the masks covering their faces.

What they didn't see, though, were Splicers getting ready for their attack, hiding and moving within the shadows. It was going to be a bloodbath.

By eleven o'clock, the party was in full swing. Most were dancing, drinking, laughing, and eating to their heart's content. There were other groups of people who stuck close together, guns in holsters and ready to fire, shotguns swung across backs, grenades prepped, Plasmids powered up. They were ready for whatever was going to happen.

Kiku and Ludwig remained at their table, trying to blend in. They had planned to leave right before midnight to give the impression they stayed all night, but not wanting to push their luck with actually staying the full night. They indulged a few women in dances, but stayed away from the more paranoid looking ones. They would make it through this, hopefully in one piece.

Lena, otherwise known as Rapture, sat in a shadowed corner on one of the balconies around the outer edge of Kashmir Restaurant. She wasn't taking part in the party, rather waiting for something, anything to happen.

She could feel Atlas' men getting ready to attack; the doctors itching to cut; the women more ready to throw a drink then a bullet; the citizens' desire to riot, to rebel, to change a broken system. She could feel Ryan trying, desperately, to keep control of a city he had long since lost.

All of that contained inside of one being made that being very jumpy, but she was able to hide it well, mostly.

Her mismatched eyes (one green, one electric blue—from the EVE) gazed at the dancing guests and tried to figure out which ones would turn to Atlas' side once the war started.

With her blue eye, she could 'see' the Plasmid and Tonics each person had. Sonic Boom. Cyclone Trap. Hypnotize Big Daddy. She hated that one. Winter Blast. Incinerate. Another Incinerate. Almost everyone in the room had a Plasmid, which was good for the scientists. All the science that could be done.

Lena spotted two men sitting at a back table, chatting quietly. They didn't have a Plasmid, and weirder still, she couldn't find any connection with them, and that meant they weren't a part of her city. Even people visiting became part of her city quickly. People couldn't leave too easily once they got here. But something else drew her towards them, too. They looked familiar.

She teleported down, sending red embers trickling through the shadows, and appeared behind the duo, still hidden.

"Ludwig-san…?" the Japanese man asked.

"Ja?" Ludwig responded.

"Do those doctors have…grenades?"

"I think so, Kiku."

Lena stiffened, brown hair jolting from behind her ears. She knew those names, and finally recognized what drew them to her. There were Nations, much like herself.

She had a choice. She could stay still and invisible, continue to hide, and try to find out their motives, or she could teleport away and have a few drinks.

When they didn't have any other meaningful conversation after ten minutes, she decided to teleport to a bar across the room and have a few drinks. Getting caught wasn't worth the risk of a few idle pieces of gossip.

She grabbed a handful of strong drinks and teleported back to her upstairs table and awaited the inevitable.

Alfred and Feliciano, surrounded by other Splicers, got into position as the clock ticked closer and closer to midnight. There was a hush of anticipation over the crowd. No one wanted to be the one to give away the game.

Feliciano had a plan. He was going to run in as fast as he could and hide under a table in a corner, occasionally peaking out to try and find Ludwig and Kiku. Thankfully, the tablecloths almost touched the floor.

Alfred knew the weak brown-haired kid (and Alfred, for the life of him, could not remember his name) hanging off of him would be next to no help. He planned to ditch him as soon as the doors opened. He'd find him again later…maybe.

Jospeh almost cackled with glee as he waited to go hunt down his target. He loved fucking with other people's perfect little lives. It made him so happy!

The clock ticked on.

"Attention, everyone," Andrew Ryan's voice echoed into the corridor from the restaurant. "Thank you all for coming to this year's Masquerade Ball. There's only about twenty seconds until midnight. Thank you again for coming, and have a safe and healthy New Year."

The room cheered for a moment, then started counting, "Ten! Nine! Eight!…"

The Splicers readied their weapons, powered up their Plasmids, and armed the explosive on the door.

"Happy New Year!"

BOOM!

The door exploded inwards, sending shards into the guests. Cheering immediately turned to shouts and screaming. Gunshots rang out amide the explosions, loud against the stillness of the ocean.

It had begun.

Atlas watched as shadows obscured the windows of the glass hallways leading to Kashmir Restaurant. He could comfortably watch the invasion from his home. His men were getting ready and would strike soon.

Another diplomat would be under his thumb soon, and that would hopefully drag the other two down to keep alliances. Rapture was going to be overhauled tonight and nothing would be the same. Families would have to find alternate ways to avoid the war, or they splice and rebel against Ryan. Most inhabitants were Splicers anyway. A new order was taking over Rapture and it was going to be all his.

He smirked down at the city through the window. The clock struck twelve and a loud explosion rocked through the ocean. Atlas raised his glass in salute and drank to the sound of gunfire and screams.

"Happy fucking New Year."

He couldn't be happier.

Chapter Text

"In the next few years the struggle will not be between utopia and reality, but between different utopias, each trying to impose itself on reality."

-Albert Camus, Between Hell and Reason, 1991

The doors exploded inwards, sending shrapnel and debris into the crowd of party guests. Some screamed, while others swung around and raised their weapons. As the dust cleared from the doorway, the invading Splicers fired into the room, sending a handful of people to the ground in pain.

The Splicers fanned out, covering more ground and injuring as many people as possible. A grenade was lobbed into the crowd by the invaders, and someone blasted it back with Sonic Boom. It flew higher into the air and collided with a Security Drone, exploding.

Completely by accident, Feliciano had been ferried to the middle of the room. He did not want to be here. He wanted to be on the edge, not in the middle of the room! People kept shouting and shooting around him as he tried to move off to the edge of the room. His eyes flickered every which way, trying to avoid anything flying towards him. He swung his wrench/flag combo, getting a few good hits in as he turned. He wanted to get out of the middle of the room before the wave of Big Daddies came in.

There! In the corner was an overturned table. He could hide there, and hopefully no one too bad was hiding there.

Feliciano pushed, shoved, and swung the wrench/flag as he made his way towards the corner. Pain erupted in his side. A brute Splicer had rammed into him, knocking him down.

"Wah! No! I'm on your side!" he screamed. He had no idea what side the Brute was on, but hopefully he believed him.

When the explosion happened, Ludwig and Kiku had flipped their table up on its side, and hid behind it. They pulled it as close to the wall as they could get and defended their territory. With all of the fighting, there was no way they were getting out of the room right then, not unless they broke through a wall, and they were unsure if there was a room or open ocean behind them. They also didn't have anything to blow up a wall with. They had meant to leave before midnight, but got caught up in their conversation.

Ludwig peaked out from their cover and shot at another incoming Splicer. They had good cover and an easily defensible position, so it was no wonder that some were trying to come and take it from them. However, the five dead bodies leading towards the table proved who were the better fighters.

Brute Splicers, while they were supposed to be the enforcers of the underwater city, were now only adding to the chaos instead of trying to calm everyone down. One rammed into a body and stopped, staring down at it. The crowd parted slightly and he caught sight of a bouncing brown curl. He turned back to Kiku. "I think I found Feliciano. I'm going to go get him. Can you handle this?"

"Hai," Kiku said, a fierce expression on his face.

Ludwig sidestepped out of the corner and inched around the room, against the walls until the crowd was larger. He had to frequently shoot at attackers, and when anyone got close enough, they received a punch in their face or a knee to the groin.

The Brute Splicer smiled and his arm lit up in flames. He thrust down, but jerked back when two bullets lodged into his forearm. Ludwig aimed his gun again, getting ready to fire at the new irate and charging Brute.

"Ludwig!" Feliciano screamed in joy.

Ludwig ignored his fellow Nation in favor of punching holes through the Brute with bullets. Three well placed shots later, he went down, crashing hard on the floor.

The Brute hadn't even finished falling when Ludwig rushed over to Feliciano's side. "Danke Gott, you're okay," Ludwig breathed, helping Feliciano stand. "Where's Alfred? Has he been with you?"

Feliciano shrugged. "I lost him when I was pushed in here. He's acting weird, Germany. He doesn't remember who I am most of the time."

"EVE causes memory loss. Come. We'll have to locate him later."

Feliciano nodded, holding tight to Ludwig's arm as they quickly made their way back to the corner. "Are you hurt, Ludwig?"

"Nothing a night of sleep can't fix—GAH!" A man jumped onto Ludwig's back, wrapping his legs around his chest to hold on. One arm went around Ludwig's throat and the other held a Plasmid hypo. He had a crazed Cheshire grin on his face.

Ludwig grabbed onto the man's shirt and pulled him forward, flipping him over his head, but the man didn't let go as easily as Ludwig hoped. Ludwig crushed an ankle and the man flinched away from Ludwig, and was able to be pulled ass over head over Ludwig and onto the floor. As he flipped, the Plasmid hypo was emptied directly into Ludwig's neck.

Ludwig screamed and slammed the man onto the floor. His other hand went to his neck in pain.

Feliciano narrowed his eyes and swung his wrench/flag as hard as he could at the lackey on the floor before him. The man continued smiling even through his own pain. The man flew back slightly, blood pouring out of his head. The smile had yet to disappear. "Oh, yes! That anger is great!"

Feliciano swung again and again until the man lay unmoving on the ground. No one hurt his friends! Feliciano panted, coming down from the high and looked away from the gruesome scene, running back to Ludwig.

"Are you okay?" he asked, laying a hand on Ludwig's shaking shoulder.

"Get me back to the corner," he grunted slowly. He pointed weakly to the table that Feliciano was headed towards originally.

He helped the taller man lean on him and they stumbled their way back.

"Ludwig-san! Feliciano-san!" Kiku exclaimed, darting out from the table and coming to Feliciano's aid.

"Grazie," Feliciano said once they made it back behind the cover.

Ludwig's face was contorted in pain. His hands were tight fists, fingers digging into palms, and Feliciano could almost hear Ludwig's teeth grinding together.

"It'll be okay, Ludwig," Feliciano said, squeezing his shoulder. Kiku defended their cover while Feliciano looked after Ludwig, who had just passed out from the pain from the DNA-changing Plasmid. The pain had spiked, bursting out from the initial injection site and continuing through his body, causing him to pass out. It had gotten to be too much for Ludwig's fried nerves.

"Oh no," Feliciano said, anxiously.

Ludwig awoke with a throbbing head and a bruised and bloody Feliciano sitting over him, holding a shaking shotgun (despite rarely holding a gun before this) pointed into the room, ready to attempt to shoot whatever comes near.

"What happened?" Ludwig asked, sitting up.

Feliciano dropped the gun where he stood and turned towards his German lover.

"Oh, Ludwig!" Feliciano threw his arms around the German. "You're awake! I'm so happy! We were worried that you wouldn't wake up and that we would have to drag you back to the hotel, e tu pesa molto, but that's not because you're fat. It's just muscles, but that almost makes it worse, and I was so scared. When we dragged you over here you just passed out and—"

"Feliciano," Ludwig said, cutting him off.

Feliciano dropped his fluttering hands and met Ludwig's eyes. "Sì?"

"You're rambling."

Feliciano ducked his head. "Sorry."

"Keine Angst. How long have I been out?"

"Only about five minutes."

"Are you alright, Ludwig-san?" Kiku kneeled next to Ludwig on the other side.

Ludwig looked at his hands. "…I think so. I feel…different. Stronger, almost."

Feliciano bit his lip and fiddled with the hem of his jacket. Kiku nodded and went back to cover them, trusting Feliciano to watch over Ludwig.

"What's wrong, Feli?" Ludwig asked, leaning closer to him.

He started to cry, rubbing at his eyes to wipe away the tears. "You're going to forget me, too," he wailed. "After Alfred started using EVE, he barely remembers me and willingly went to fight against Ryan. I don't want to lose you, too. " Feliciano threw himself on Ludwig, squeezing him. Ludwig gently wrapped him arms around the smaller Italian.

"I promise you," he said seriously, " I will try my hardest to remember you. If I start to leave, drag me back. Knock me out if you have to, okay?" Feliciano nodded.

"Incoming!" Kiku shouted. Ludwig and Feliciano's heads shot up.

Ludwig thrust his arm out (deciding now was a good as time as any to find out what his Plasmid was), blowing the incoming bomb back towards the Splicer, blowing him, as well as the rest of his collection of bombs, up.

"Which Plasmid is that?" Kiku asked, shooting down another incoming Splicer.

"Sonic Boom, I think," Feliciano answered. He had seen some advertisements during his initial wanderings. He giggled. "It suits you."

Ludwig facepalmed. "This is serious, Italy," he ordered.

Feliciano sobered up. "I know, I know."

"Does anyone see Alfred?"

"Over there?" Kiku answered, pointing towards a blond-haired man digging through a dead man's pockets.

"I'll be right back." Ludwig stood up, leaving Feliciano behind the table and jogged over the Alfred. By this time, most of the larger attacks had migrated out of the restaurant and into the corridors of Rapture. "Alfred," he said.

Alfred spun around, aimed his gun and pointed it at Ludwig. "Who are you? How do you know my name?" Alfred asked.

"I'm Ludwig. I've known you for many years before we came down to Rapture. You need to come with me."

Alfred started laughing. "What makes you think I would do that? Do you know who I am?"

Ludwig held his ground in front of the clearly insane Nation. "Alfred F. Jones, otherwise known as the embodiment of the United States of America."

Alfred gave Ludwig a weird look. "You're fucking crazy."

Ludwig shook his head, never once breaking eye contact. "I'm not. Have you noticed that every time someone shoots you, you just stand right back up? How you never seen to stay injured—"

BANG! BANG!

"Ugh!" Ludwig gripped his shoulder where the two bullets from Alfred's gun lodged themselves.

Alfred's shaking hands pointed the gun at Ludwig's chest. Ludwig did the only thing he could do without getting more bullets shot into him: he pushed out his hand, emitting a shockwave that pushed Alfred back, his head bouncing off the wall, knocking him out.

"Der Scheißkerl," he grunted, walking over to the younger country. "Bullets are scheißen mich an."

Ludwig bent down and threw Alfred over his good shoulder with his good arm. The bullets were still lodged inside his shoulder. They didn't usually like to push out on their own right away. He walked over to the table and put Alfred down with help from Feliciano before sitting down himself.

"Are you okay? Did the bullets go through? Oh no, it's still bleeding really badly. Are you sure you're okay, Ludwig? Let me see," Feliciano fretted, hands pushing aside the fabric on his shoulder.

Ludwig pushed Feliciano down. "I'm fine. The bullets will come out on their own and I'll heal."

Feliciano became serious and started digging through his bag. He pulled out a first aid kit from home and set it on the ground. From inside it, he produced a pair of tweezers.

"Felicia—mff." Feliciano stuffed a rag into Ludwig's mouth and started to rip off Ludwig's torn sleeve.

Ludwig pulled the rag from his mouth and pushed the working Italian from his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

Feliciano met Ludwig's eyes. "Do you want the bullets out of you now, or would you rather only have one arm until you heal?"

"Feli, I know you care for me, but I think I can wait." Feliciano was silent. "It's not that I don't trust you, I just—"

"Feliciano-san is a good healer, Ludwig-san. He knows what he's doing." Kiku glanced back at the duo for a moment. Ludwig knew Kiku was also a competent field medic, but between the two uninjured Countries, Kiku was more likely to protect them. Ludwig sighed. If Kiku trusted the Italian to heal him, then Feliciano must be at least okay at it. "Fine." He stuffed the rag back in his mouth.

Feliciano straddled Ludwig's waist and held the tweezers poised over one of the bullet holes. "Ready?"

Ludwig nodded and shut his eyes, leaning back against the wall behind him.

Chapter Text

"Most test subjects do experience some, uh, cognitive deterioration after a few months in suspension. Now, you've been under for quite a lot longer, and it's not out of the question that you might have a very minor case of serious brain damage! But, don't be alarmed, alright? Uh, although if you do feel alarmed, try to hold on to that feeling because that is the proper reaction to being told that you've got brain damage."

-Wheatley (Stephen Merchant), Portal 2, 2011

Lena fled from the room the moment the fighting started. She couldn't take a side in the fight, not an unbiased one, anyway. Part of her wanted freedom from Andrew Ryan, but another part wanted to protect her leader. It was an awful feeling and she wished that her mind wasn't divided like this.

She staggered against the wall when her connection to a large portion of the Big Daddies got cut from that fucking hypnotize Plasmid. Tears gathered in her eyes, a sob building in her chest. She swallowed it down, breath hitching. It was bad enough when one died.

"Get out of here, freak!" a man shouted at Delta. Delta retaliated by hitting the man across the chest, sending him to the floor. Lena ducked behind a Circus of Values and hid out of site.

Delta revved up his drill and struck down at the man, who dodged by rolling away. Delta pulled back, drill going faster. The man moved faster and threw a glowing green ball into Delta's face, cutting the connection Lena had to him.

She covered her mouth before a sob escaped. The tears overflowed from the corners of her eyes and ran down her cheeks. How dare they! He was the first!

Delta turned from the Splicer and towards the Little Sister—Eleanor Lamb— with him.

"There we are," Sofia Lamb said, coming down the stairs. "He's perfectly safe now." She pulled Eleanor back by the hand and laid hand on her head. "This is not your daughter," she said to Delta, "Do you understand?" she asked, stepping towards him. "Her name is Eleanor, and she is mine. Now, kneel please."

Lena's hand dug into her cheek at that tone of voice from Lamb. If you didn't want the Big Daddy to care, than you shouldn't have used your own daughter as a test subject.

Delta knelt on the floor, gazing at Lamb's feet and little Eleanor standing next to her.

"Remove your helmet," Lamb said, holding a pistol out to Delta. He was one of the few Big Daddies left who could actually do that and have something human like gaze out. He took the pistol. "Place it against your head." He slowly moved it towards his head, breathing heavy. Lena widened her eyes, hand not on her face, gripped the vending machine in a metal-bending grip. No! She wouldn't do that. Not in front of her own child! "Fire."

BANG!

"Daddy!" Eleanor yelled, reaching towards her Big Daddy. "Wake up," she wailed, shaking the prone form slowly leaking blood, "Please…"

Lamb grabbed the girl's arm and sharply pulled her back. "Come along, Eleanor."

Eleanor looked back at Delta as she stumbled after her mother. "But Daddy…" Lamb pulled her away.

Lena stared. She did. He was dead. The first successful Big Daddy, and the only one still semi-human. Delta had looked after her since she was just a small child running wild in her city of Rapture, just like he did for the Little Sisters.

Lena narrowed her eyes at the retreating body of Sofia Lamb and her daughter. She would pay.

Alfred started to wake up as the brown haired man was bandaging the shoulder of the blond. He felt smug. He was able to injure the fucking asshole. Good.

He looked up from watching the brunette and stared straight at Alfred, meeting his eyes.

"I hope you're happy, Flachwichser," he growled.

The brunette gasped. "Ludwig!"

"What are you talking about?" Alfred asked back just as harshly, shifting his gun into a more comfortable position on his lap. "You were the one to approach me. I shot you in self-defense. And then you threw me against the wall! I don't see anyone taking care of me, bastard!" He paused, a smirk slowly spreading across his face. "You know, maybe your little whore there could help me with this one problem I seem to be having." He reached down and adjusted himself in his pants.

Ludwig lunged towards Alfred, pushing the brunette off of him. He yelped in pain when he landed. Ludwig gripped Alfred by the neck, squeezing tightly. Alfred gasped, trying to take in air.

"Germania"

"Doistu-san!"

"Don't you dare say anything like that about him again," Ludwig growled.

"Germany, let go!" the small brunette urged, tugging on Ludwig's arm.

"Do you understand me?" Ludwig's eyes narrowed and his hand spasmed, getting tighter for a moment. Alfred struggled, hands weakly pulling at Ludwig's. "I said," he ground out, pressing into Alfred, "Do. You. Understand. Me?" Black spots started to appear in his vision, his lungs ached for air.

"Let him go, Ludwig-san." The tugging on the arm continued, but Ludwig steadfastly ignored the man.

Alfred knew he would come back to life if the blond managed to kill him, but he didn't really want to die from suffocation today, so he nodded his consent to not say anything about the smaller man.

Ludwig let go roughly and backed away, still glaring daggers at Alfred as he gasped for much needed air, the black spots retreating.

"Fuck, man, I almost died."

The small brunette was stuck between looking at Alfred and looking at Ludwig in concern. Once he decided that Alfred would be okay gasping for oxygen, he knelt in front of Ludwig.

"Ludwig?"

"What?" he snapped back.

He started tearing up. "Are you okay? You attacked Alfred and almost killed him."

"I'm fine," he grunted out, trying to push the fussing man away from him.

The brunette froze and stopped fussing.

"No," he whispered. "No, you are not," he said louder, "That was the same thing Alfred said to me three days ago and look at him now!" He swept his arm back towards Alfred. Alfred raised an eyebrow in question. "He doesn't even know who we are. You never attacked anyone like that, even during the wars. Never in a blind rage. You always had a plan. I want to help you. Please," he begged.

Realization dawned in his eyes as he gasped. "Oh, Feli," he said, pulling the smaller man forward in a spine-crushing hug. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"An attitude adjustment," the Asian man said.

"What?" Ludwig asked. Feli tilted his head in confusion.

"It seems to me that the ADAM and EVE serums have a type of attitude modifier in addition to the memory modifier."

"Memory modifier?" Alfred scoffed. "Yeah right. I'll have you know that I know for a fact that there is nothing wrong with my memories."

The three stared at him, looks of pity on their faces.

"Do you remember what you did before you came down to Rapture, Alfred-san?"

"Of course I do."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. "What was it?"

Alfred opened his mouth to respond, but he paused. He didn't really remember what he did before Rapture. Alfred shut his mouth and closed his eyes, trying to remember. He remembered…a meeting? A lots of yelling. He couldn't tell what they were talking about, but was that a superhero saving the Earth? Yes, it was, and the superhero had his face!

"I was a superhero that saved Earth from Global Warming," Alfred said confidently.

Ludwig groaned.

"You were," the Asian man said, "and still are, the personification of the United States of America. As Nations, we go to meetings and discuss world issues," he corrected.

"There you go again with the personification thing. You're all crazy. Wouldn't I know if I was some sort of 'Nation' or whatever?"

"You don't remember," Feli said. "You kept calling me Italy earlier today because you couldn't remember my human name."

"Did I?" Feli nodded. "Okay, wait. If I'm the personi-whats-it—"

"Personification," said the Asian man.

"—Whatever of America, then what are you guys?"

"Other Nations," Ludwig said.

Alfred was super close to disregarding the whole conversation and leaving, but curiosity got the better of him. "Okay, then who are you guys?"

"Kiku Honda, Japan."

"Feliciano Vargas, North Italy, but I just go by Italy or Veneziano during meetings, ve~."

"Ludwig Beilschmidt, Germany."

Alfred gazed at their serious faces. "You…you're not joking, are you?"

"No," Ludwig stated.

"We only want to help. We need to find a way to the surface and to hopefully do that, we need to find Rapture," Feliciano said.

Alfred gave Feliciano a look of pity. "I hate to be the barer of bad news, Feli, but we're in Rapture."

"The personification. She's around here somewhere," Kiku said. "That's not a bad idea, actually. She may know another way out. Where might she be?"

"America said we were going to start our search in Arcadia since she really liked her roses at the one meeting she came to," Feliciano said.

"I thought personifications were just nations, not cities," Alfred said.

"Some are special," Ludwig said. "There have been a few Cities throughout the years. No Cities exist within Nations, but if a City is the entire Nation, then it's classified as a City.

"Rapture is one of those," Kiku continued, "Columbia, her sister, existed in the early nineteen-hundreds. She had a lot of your citizens, Alfred, and seceded from the US in 1902. Atlantis was also a City."

"How come I've never heard about any of these people?" Feliciano asked.

Ludwig sighed. "Because you never pay attention in the meetings."

"Oh, yeah."

"Alright,"Alfred said, standing up, "If I'm really who you say I am, then I guess I'll stick with you guys. John and Cameron probably got killed off anyway, and it's bad to walk around Rapture alone." Alfred started to walk back towards the entrance of Kashmir Restaurant. He turned back to the other Nations. "You guys coming?" he asked when he didn't hear anyone following him.

Ludwig sighed and stood up, pulling Feliciano with him. Kiku stood as well.

"Let's go," Ludwig said. "Feli, get the bag." Feliciano nodded and packed everything up into his yellow backpack.

"If you don't mind, Ludwig-san, I would like to retrieve my katana from my room. I won't need anything else," Kiku said politely.

"Alright. We'll go back to the hotel first, get your katana, then head over to Arcadia to look for Rapture."

"If she'll help us," Alfred mumbled.

The four walked as silently as they could back to the hotel. "You know," Alfred said, "how do you plan on getting up to your room? The whole building is probably swimming with Splicers."

Ludwig's eyes flashed dangerously. "We'll manage."

Alfred shrugged. "Your funeral."

Chapter Text

"Aggression is necessary to deal with a hostile environment in the struggle for existence."

-Dale B. Harris, Concept of Development, 1967

It took them an entire day to travel the long way around Rapture, avoiding fights and Splicers and sentries, however once they got close, Hotel Monseñor was surprisingly easy to reach. Getting into Kiku's room, however, was not.

Splicers had started to raid the rooms and would shoot anyone that crossed into their turf. That translated to anything or anyone that even looked in the direction of where they had laid down their armaments.

"Okay, this is going to be a lot harder than I thought," Alfred said, "I thought there would be tons of fights breaking out, I mean there are, but I thought it would be more chaos and less territory holding."

"Shut up," Ludwig grunted.

Feliciano glanced at the surly German and bit his lip. He could tell that the blond-haired Nation's temper was getting worse.

"The main stairs are clear," Kiku observed. "I'll wait for a distraction, and then run up the stairs to the first floor and over to the back stairs. They are closer to my room."

"A distraction?" Feliciano asked. "How are you going to get a distraction?"

The four looked around the lobby. Everyone holding territory were at a stalemate. No one advanced and no one defended, preferring to sit and hold their ground. Less bloodshed that way. It didn't look like any type of distraction was coming anytime soon.

"Screw this. I want to get out of here," Ludwig uttered. He pulled Alfred forward by the collar of his now dirty and bloody bomber jacket.

"Ah! Hey, hey! What are you doing?" Alfred shouted as he was dragged in front of the German and into the middle of the room. Ludwig sent a Sonic Boom blast directly into Alfred's stomach, sending the man soaring across the room and into a pile of discarded chairs.

Alfred scrambled out of the rubble a moment later and staggered to his feet. "Not cool, man!" He sent back a wave of flames towards the other three Nations.

"Wah!" Feliciano cried as they scattered away from the incoming flames: Kiku towards the stairs, Ludwig and Feliciano towards cover. This proved to be the distraction that Kiku needed to make it up the main stairs without being shot at.

It took him no time at all to sneak up the poorly barricaded back stairs to his floor. He peaked around the corner to check how distracted the people on the open hallway were: they were preoccupied with the fight below. Good.

He snuck over to his room and pushed open the creaking door hanging half off its hinges. Someone had indeed broken in. The couch was overturned, the kitchenette torn apart, and there was what looked like a dead body in the back corner. It was hard to tell from the burns what they might've looked like before last night, but it sure smelled like a body. Kiku only hoped his katana was still in his bag.

"Hey, Mihael, look what I found!" a young American voice said from the bedroom.

"What, Mail?" Mihael replied.

A sword scraped the inside of the scabbard. He had thought too soon.

"Isn't it awesome?" Mail exclaimed.

"What good will a sword do?" Mihael countered. "Put the fucking thing down and help me find some chocolate."

Mail sighed. "What makes you think this guy will have chocolate when the rest don't?"

Mihael didn't answer.

Kiku edged around the corner and looked into the bedroom. The sheets were torn from the bed, and the headboard broken in two. The few pictures on the walls had their glass shattered if they weren't already on the ground in pieces. A fight really went down in his room.

A leather wearing, blond man was searching through his drawers, pulling out clothes, scattering them all over the floor. Kiku'a katana was still being handled by a redhead in a striped shirt and goggles.

Mihael stood up. "I'm going to look in the other room. Guard the door."

Kiku crouched down and hid in the small bathroom as Mihael walked past. Mail sighed and followed his blond companion.

Kiku jumped up behind Mail and hit him as hard as he could on the back of the neck, knocking him out. He caught him before he could hit the ground and set him down gently, half in the bathroom. He pulled his katana free from the man's grasp and snuck back towards the door.

He pulled the front door open, causing it to creak. Should've just broken it off in the first place.

"Hey!" Mihael shouted, turning his gun on Kiku.

Kiku bolted out the door before the blond said another word, narrowly missing a bullet hitting him in the head.

Mihael ran out after Kiku and aimed his gun again. "You motherfucker!"

Kiku ran full speed down the hallway, panting. He ducked a few flying bullets, gasping each time one flew by his head.

He ducked into the stairwell and glanced back at the irate blood who shook his head in exasperation and threw his hand down in a dismissing gesture, heading back into the room to his friend.

He breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed against the wall, holding the katana close to his chest.

Feliciano cowered in a dark corner outside the lobby of the hotel clenching the wrench/flag in his trembling hands.

Alfred and Ludwig had progressed to good old-fashioned punching and insult throwing when they both ran out of EVE and ammo. They weren't pulling their punches, having forgotten that the fight was only a distraction.

The punching stopped and Feliciano inched around the corner, peaking into the room where the peanut gallery were making comments on the speed of Kiku's appearance into the fight. Kiku held his katana, still in its scabbard, between a panting Alfred and a fuming Ludwig.

"Arigato gozaimashita for providing the distraction, but it is no longer needed. We need to continue on," Kiku said.

Alfred grinned, wiping the blood off his mouth with the back of his hand. "Pah! I knew that!" He turned and led the group out of the lobby. "Where'd that scared guy with the wrench go?"

Feliciano stood up. "Qui."

"Great! Let's get going!"

Feliciano stared at Alfred in confusion. His emotions were everywhere. He's almost acting normal.

"By the way, what are we doing again?" Alfred asked continuing down the hallway.

Ludwig ground his teeth together and huffed in frustration. "Looking for Rapture."

Alfred nodded like that meant something to him. "Uh huh, uh huh. And where is she?"

"In Arcadia, most likely," Kiku said a moment later when it didn't seem that Ludwig could answer without killing something, that something being Alfred.

Alfred stopped walking randomly and Feliciano bumped into the younger Nation.

The blonde's emotions shifted rapidly and he narrowed his eyes down at a terrified Feliciano. "Watch where you're going, you little bitch," he hissed

Ludwig grabbed the front of Alfred's shirt and pulled him up to eye level. "What did I tell you, arschloch?"

Alfred chuckled softly and held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry, man, but you know how it is. It's just too hard to resist sometimes, you know?" he cajoled.

"Nein, I don't," he growled, face twitching in dislike.

Feliciano stood up and placed himself in front of Ludwig. "Enough of the fighting!" he shouted, fed up. "You have been at each other's throats this entire time. We won't get anything done if you don't stop this dumb fighting and actually help each another." Ludwig dropped Alfred. "I haven't run away to hide because I know if I do, I'll never get out of here. I came down here for you," He poked Ludwig in the chest, tears pouring down his face, "and I'm not leaving you to die down here, despite how scared out of my mind I am! I want to go home, have some pasta, and take a siesta, but I'm not. You know why?" Ludwig didn't answer as he stared at the crying Italian. "Because we need to help each other to get home. You both need to get that through your thick skulls! This anger is irrational, anyway. Neither of you are vengeful people. Please just calm down and help each other," Feliciano trailed off, finishing his rant, uncertain.

"…He's right," Ludwig admitted after a few moments. "Truce?" He held out his hand for Alfred to shake.

Alfred glared at Ludwig and his eyes flickered to each of the former Axis Powers. "Ugh…fine." He grabbed Ludwig's hand in a fierce grip and they released each other just as quickly. "I don't want this truce to last any longer than it has to. Let's get going so we can find Rapture and get out of here."

Alfred started to lead the way to Arcadia. They had to backtrack from their previous location because they were going in the wrong direction before. Alfred had forgotten where they were going.

"And find a cure," Kiku said, "Or at least some notes to make a cure topside."

"A cure for what?" Alfred asked, distracted. He dug in his pockets and pulled out some money.

Ludwig stared at the idiotic American in front of him. "EVE addiction."

Alfred fed the money into a Circus of Values machine and an EVE hypo slid into the slot at the bottom. "EVE addiction? Pshah! I can stop anytime I want," Alfred said, injecting the blue liquid.

No one wanted to start a new fight with Alfred, so they didn't say anything about the EVE. "I highly doubt that, Alfred-san. Rapture might know how to help, so we need to move quickly to find her," Kiku responded.

Ludwig had snuck away for a moment when Alfred was at the vending machine, having found his own hypo buried under a body. He pocketed it for later.

"Why do we have to move quickly?" Feliciano asked, confused.

"We have a World Meeting the fifth of January. If I am correct, today is the second of January. If we don't show up, it'll be suspicious."

"Oh."

Ludwig grabbed hold of the Italian's hand in reassurance causing the brown haired Nation to smile up at him and add a small skip to his step. He may not remember or understand everything that the Asian and his Feli were talking about (the Plasmid had messed with his memory at bit) but he did know that the short, forgetful Italian meant something to him, and he would do anything to see him smile again.

Chapter Text

"Be careful the environment you choose for it will shape you; be careful the friends you choose for you will become like them."

-W. Clement Stone, Do Over: Why it Will Work Now when it Didn't Work Then, 2010

"I know we need to keep moving," Feliciano said, "but can we find somewhere to rest? I feel like—aaaach," he yawned.

"That's a good idea, Feliciano-san."

"Where are we supposed to sleep?" Alfred snapped. "A box in the street? In case you haven't noticed, Rapture ain't really the safest place anymore."

"This is Pauper's Drop, right?" Ludwig asked, pointing behind him at the signs. "It'll most likely have empty rooms since most of the Splicers were lower class workers that lived here."

The others nodded and went in search of an acceptable room in the dilapidated building in front of them. They found an abandoned room and settled down on the bed and chairs for a short rest. Feliciano and Ludwig took the bed, Kiku took the couch, and Alfred pushed two chairs together for his bed.

Alfred waited until he could hear the snores of the other three men. He grabbed his gun, refilling his stock of ammo, and snuck out the door, leaving a note saying where he was going. He didn't want them to get too worried if he wasn't back before they woke up.

Eve's Garden had to have at least one girl still dancing. The war couldn't have hit everyone quite yet.

Ludwig woke with a start, eyes snapping open, straining against the gloom, and grabbed the wrist of the hand that was shaking him.

"Wah, Ludwig, you're hurting me!"

Ludwig's brain registered the voice and relaxed his grip. "Es tut mir leid."

"It's okay…" Feliciano gently rubbed his wrist with his other hand.

"Alfred-san is missing." Ludwig sat up at the news from Kiku. "He left a note saying he want to Eve's Garden."

Ludwig took the note from Feliciano, read it, then crumbled it up. He growled, "Arschloch." Ludwig climbed out of the bed he shared with Feliciano. He shouldered the machine gun they found in the room and pocketed his pistol. "I'll find him and bring him back. Stay here." Feliciano nodded as Ludwig left the room.

Since the trams were down, it took Ludwig an hour to make his way back to the richer section of Rapture. On his way there, he found a canvas bag and some metal zip-ties. Ludwig smiled cruelly; Alfred would either like his new make-shift bodybag home or he was going to get a very hard punch to the head and go into the bag anyway. He wasn't going to let the man walk. He already left them for a quick fuck.

Ludwig walked into Eve's Garden and stood in the doorway, observing the scanty clad women dancing on the drooling men. He spotted a bouncing blond tuff of hair off to the side.

When he got closer, Ludwig realized that the girl (and he meant girl—she couldn't have been older than eighteen) had her skirt hitched up to her hips and no panties. Alfred's shirt was unbuttoned, pants unzipped and he was buried deep in the girl.

He walked over and tapped the girl on the shoulder, "Let me take over," Ludwig whispered softly into the girl's ear, trying not to disturb the idiotic blond quite yet.

She raised an eyebrow at the unusual request, still thrusting down onto Alfred, but shrugged, smiled prettily and proceeded to extract herself off of Alfred.

His half-lidded eyes opened a bit more. "I'm not done," he panted.

She smiled and winked at him, pulling down her skirt just enough to cover her front, but not enough to cover her entire ass. "Someone else wants to take a turn at you, sweetheart. I'll catch you later." She trailed her hand down Alfred's chest. She giggled as she walked away.

Ludwig walked around the edge of the couch and kicked at Alfred's spread feet. "Put your dick back in your pants, arschloch. You're fucking eighteen-year-olds now? That's low."

Alfred scowled. He stuffed his still half-hard cock back into his pants and buttoned up his shirt.

"Fuck you, man." Alfred stood up and stormed off, away from Ludwig. Ludwig's eyebrows rose in disbelief. It's going to be like that, huh. Alfred brushed him off. Fine. He would do this the hard way, then. He took the pistol out of his pocket and flipped it in his hand so that he was holding the barrel.

Ludwig walked behind Alfred, not trying to be subtle at all, and bashed the handle into Alfred's hard skull. He crumbled onto the floor and Ludwig stuffed him into the bag after zip-tying his arms and legs. That'll show him.

Ludwig stalked towards the door, bag thrown carelessly over his shoulder opposite the gun swung across his back.

"Agh!" A light shock hit his ass and he shouted in surprise and pain. He turned around to see the girl from before. She had shocked him in the ass.

"The guy you're kidnapping owes me one hundred dollars." She huffed and held out her hand. "Either willingly pay up or Ricky over there at the door will make you pay."

Ricky shifted closer to Ludwig and the prostitute. He was a big guy. Muscles rippled under his stretched out clothing. He smiled and maintained eye contact, cracking his knuckles as ice formed up his arms.

Ludwig growled and dug the money out of his pocket, handing it to the girl. Her scowl immediately turned into a smile. "Thank you and come back soon."

Ludwig turned and left as quickly as he could. Ricky stared at him until he was out of eyeshot.

It was another twenty minutes before any sound or movement came from the bag. Ludwig had made some good progress to get back to Pauper's Drop. He had hoped to get back before Alfred woke up, but it was not to be.

"Ugh, my head," Alfred moaned, his voice muffled by the bag. He shuffled around a bit. "Why can't I move my arms or legs? What the fuck is going on?" He tried kicked out, but the bag held firm.

"Shut up," Ludwig snapped. "I tied your arms and legs and now I'm taking you back to the others."

"Wait…you're that guy. The tall blond one, right?"

"Ja."

Alfred started squirming. "You ruined my night!"

"Stop squirming or I'll drop you, and I'll make sure you land on your head."

"No, never!" Alfred moved around some more and the bag accidentally brushed hard against the wall, hard.

"The fuck, man?" Alfred shouted, pain lacing his words.

"Stay still," Ludwig ordered.

"Let me go or I'll light this bag on fire," Alfred threatened.

"Don't be an idiot," Ludwig said. "You'll get third degree burns and be useless for at least a week until you heal completely. That would only make it harder to get out of Rapture. Besides, did you even buy any EVE before your little side trip? You're constantly using it to light your hands up. You can't have much left."

He was silent for a moment. "Burns would be worth it if you got injured too!" Obviously he didn't buy any more EVE, and had used up what he did have by fucking around.

"You purposely injure me and I'll remember that next time you're fighting against someone twice your size," Ludwig said.

"…Let me the fuck out of here, you goddamn asshole!" He wiggled around some more.

"Using more expletives isn't going to make me want to release you any more."

Ludwig continued to walk back to their current room, hitting his cargo on as many walls as he could every time Alfred got too mouthy. After the fifth hit, Alfred shut up and accepted his fate. If he didn't want to be found, he shouldn't have left a note.

"Do you think he's alright?" Feliciano asked. He worried at his lip. "He's been gone for awhile. Do you think he was able to find Alfred? Oh, what if something happened to them. I couldn't live without Ludwig! What if they got killed and it takes them weeks to wake up again, allora non riusciremo mai a trovarli e la fuga. So che sono forti e sono potenti nei loro diritti, ma tutto può succedere. Non sappiamo nulla di questo posto e se non sono qui, non posso fare a guarirli! Questo è terribile, terribile. Per favore, Kiku, dimmi che stanno bene. Hanno bisogno di essere bene. Devono solo—"

"Feliciano-san."

"—essere. Cosa?"

"You're rambling in Italian. I'm sure they're fine. Alfred-san is probably being stubborn and holding Ludwig back. They'll be back soon."

"Sì, you're right," he sighed. Feliciano fidgeted in the corner, trying to get comfortable, but his mind only jumped from awful scenario to awful scenario. What if they got lost? What if they were injured and couldn't make it back? What if they forgot all about them and decided to wander off into Rapture forever? What if they were kidnapped? What if they died? "Kiku…" Feliciano said after a few minutes of worrying.

"Yes, Feliciano-san."

"How long does it take to get to Eve's Garden and back?"

Kiku looked up, going through the map of Rapture in his head. "Walking, at least two hours. Why?"

Feliciano whined. Bad! That was bad! "It's been five."

Chapter Text

"How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?"

-Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Sign of Four, 1890

It was a few days after the start of the New Year, the fifth of January to be exact, and also the first of four annual world meetings. By scheduling the meeting to be on the fifth allowed for any New Year's hangovers to hopefully be fully healed, and also was a good time because not many Countries had pressing matters to attend to back home.

The beginning of the meeting was almost always mostly controlled chaos. Nations caught up with friends, allies, and enemies alike that they hadn't seen since the last meeting. Fights were started, but those quickly ended when they realized that the meeting was to start. Despite the fact that most, if not all, World Meetings ended in chaos, they tried to start them off peacefully (after the initial bout).

There was a slight problem with this particular meeting, however: four Countries were missing, and no one knew where they were.

Normally, this wouldn't be a problem since internal problems could always keep a Nation from showing up. It was a problem this meeting because three of the four missing Countries were the former Axis Powers. The other was a superpower, but he was late to most meetings so no one thought anything of it quite yet.

Twenty minutes into the meeting, it had yet to dissolve into chaos and they somewhat-calmly discussed world issues. Amazing what they could do when one of the troublemakers didn't show up.

"Où est Amérique?" Francis asked during a lull in the discussion.

The rest of the Nations started murmuring and looking around for the missing Country. Maybe he was hiding under the table or in a closet. No one ever said the Nations were actually smart.

"What are you talking about?" Roderich asked. "He's right there." The Austrian pointed to a curly blond haired Nation holding a polar bear.

"I'm Canada, aye," Matthew said and, almost immediately, everyone forgot who he was…again.

"The former Axis Powers are missing, too, aru!" Yao said.

"Did anyone hear if they were going anywhere?" Elizabeta asked.

"Alfred was supposed to be back on the second," Arthur informed them, sipping his tea. "Prussia, what of your brother?"

"West left with Japan after Christmas. Don't know where they went."

"Where the fuck is my fratello?" Lovino shouted, slamming his hands onto the table and pulling all attention to him.

"You don't know, aru?" Yao asked.

"He disappeared the day after the potato bastard did."

"I'm sure he's fine, Lovi," Antonio said.

"Don't call me that!" Lovino shouted, shoving the clinging Spaniard off him.

"Canada!" Gilbert said, pointing to said Country, and causing everyone to pause and stare at the ex-Nation.

"Maple," Matthew squeaked, shrinking down when everyone's eyes shifted to him.

"Did America ever say where he was going?"

Matthew swallowed nervously. "N-no. He just said to take care of his house and he'd be back on the second."

"Damn," Gilbert said, sitting back into his seat.

"Is everyone absolutely sure that they haven't seen or heard from any of them?" Elizabeta asked.

Everyone nodded and denied that they hadn't seen any of the missing Countries since before they had left.

Francis swallowed heavily. He didn't think helping Feliciano down to Rapture would cause this much chaos.

Arthur stared at Francis as his eyes darted back and forth between the arguing Nations, his face looking guiltier every second.

"Frog, you know something," Arthur said, staring straight at the French man.

Francis laughed, waving his hand as if to dismiss the notion from the air. "Angleterre, what makes you think that?"

"You vill tell us, da," Ivan threatened, speaking up for the first time.

Francis flicked his eyes to each of the Nations staring at him. He didn't know who was going to harm him first after he told them. If they'd even take turns or just go after him all at once.

Francis swallowed again. "I know where Feli, Ludwig, and Kiku are, but I'm not sure about Alfred."

"Where's my fratello, you wine bastard?" Lovino yelled, slamming his hands, again, on the table in anger. It was a wonder the table lasted this long with all the slamming and enhanced strength in the room.

"Rapture." Well, I hope he's down there. I didn't really have any way to confirm it once I left him at the docks, Francis thought.

The Nations present started to scratch their heads in confusion. The name sounded familiar, but no one could place it.

"Where is this place, aru?" Yao asked.

Francis bit his lip. He knew Lovino (and maybe Elizabeta) were going to kill him when they found out where Rapture was.

"Where?" Elizabeta asked, tightening her grip on her frying pan when he didn't answer immediately.

"In the Atlantic Ocean," he whispered, cringing away from her.

Everyone just looked confused.

"What do you mean, 'in the Atlantic Ocean'?" Elizabeta asked. "You can't have a city in an ocean."

"Yes, you can," Raivis said.

Everyone swiveled in their seat to look at the small blond haired Baltic country.

"Explain," Ivan ordered.

Raivis looked at Ivan and started shaking. "A-a couple y-years ago, there was a-a N-Nation that showed u-up and s-said her n-name was R-rapture."

"Wait, that sickly looking girl in the tattered dress?" Roderich asked.

Raivis nodded.

"I thought she was just a random human that wandered in," Elizabeta said. It had happened before.

"No, s-she was the C-City of Rapture. She said t-that she only c-came to meet us, but a-after she said that she couldn't stand to b-be around R-russia and America, so she w-wasn't going to come a-again."

"That vas not very nice," Ivan said. "Ve could have been great friendz." A purple aura started to surround Ivan and the other nations discreetly scooted away from him.

"What are we going to do?" Arthur asked. "Obviously if they haven't showed up yet or gotten into contact with any of us, then something happened down there."

"I say the awesome me goes down and searches for them!" Gilbert declared.

Elizabeta hit him on the head with her frying pan. "If they can't get back up to the surface, what makes you think you can get down there?"

"How did Italy manage to get down there?" Roderich asked. "Lovino, you had no idea he was leaving?"

"If I did, do you think I would've let him chase after that potato bastard?" Lovino grumpily said.

"You knew where he was, frog," Arthur said. "How did Italy get down to Rapture?"

"Tomato crate," Francis mumbled.

"WHAT?" Lovino and Elizabeta screamed.

"You mean he went down there illegally and you helped him?" Elizabeta said, fire burning in her eyes.

"It was for l’amour," Francis said weakly.

"That gives you no excuse!" Elizabeta said and threw her frying pan at Francis' head. He ducked under the table so as not to get hit.

Elizabeta retrieved her frying pan and started to hit Francis.

"Hungary, please stop," Arthur said, sighing. "He's the only one that knows anything."

Elizabeta backed off, but stayed close, her eyes never leaving his body. He would be leaving this room with many more bruises, he knew.

"I don't know the actual coordinates of Rapture, just where the boats dock up on the surface."

"Great," Arthur said, collecting his papers. "Then you can go find the coordinates and report back to us."

"Wait, what?" Francis broke in.

Arthur continued as if no one had interrupted him. "If no one has any other issues, I think this meeting is done." When no one said anything, he stood up and left.

The other Nations gathered their papers and packed up as well.

Francis sighed and nursed another few head wounds (courtesy of Elizabeta) as he headed down to his car. He would start his search on the docks in Iceland. It's not like he had any choice in the matter.

Chapter Text

"The weakness of all Utopias is this, that they take the greatest difficulty of man and assume it to be overcome, and then give an elaborate account of the overcoming of the smaller ones. They first assume that no man will want more than his share, and then are very ingenious in explaining whether his share will be delivered by motor-car or balloon."

-G. K. Chesterton, Heretics, 1909

Ludwig-san and Alfred-san had been missing for two days. Feliciano-san, after his initial shock when he realized they hadn't come back on time, sat curled in a ball, back to the corner. He didn't say anything, eyes blank, fingers twitching where they gripped his knees tightly.

A day into their waiting game, Kiku tried to leave to find more food, and Feliciano-san all but welded himself to Kiku to keep him in place. Even after he promised not to leave, it was still another half day before Feliciano-san let go.

Kiku sat on the chair in the middle of the room and ate one of the last Pep Bars in their bag. They couldn't really die from lack of food, but it made them weak.

Feliciano-san's eyes drooped and he lost a bit of the blank look he'd been sporting. He forced his eyes back open, digging his fingers into his knees, almost pushing through the fabric of his pants. He yawned, shaking, eyes closing against his will. A moment later, he struggled to get them open again.

"It is okay to sleep, Feliciano-san," Kiku soothed, trying to get the tired man to sleep, even if just for five minutes.

"No, non posso. C-cosa succede se…  what if they come back and I'm sleep"—he yawned—"sleeping?"

"Than I'll wake you up. Please sleep, even if only for a short time. You need to be well-rested for when they come back." Feliciano-san nodded and let his eyes drift shut. Kiku took a blanket and draped it over his shoulders. He placed the last Pep Bar next to Feliciano-san's folded legs, hoping that when he awoke, he would eat it.

Kiku gently picked up his sword and a pistol and snuck over to the door to slip his shoes back on. With nothing else to occupy his time, he had cleaned the room, floor included, as best as he could, and it was now at acceptable levels for Kiku to take off his shoes at the entrance. He had worked around Feliciano huddled in the corner.

The stiff silence of the hall was broken by the soft creaking of the door opening. Water steadily dripped through holes in the ceiling and cracks in the windows. Kiku took a breath, inhaling the sharp metallic scent of the walls and what he was pretty sure was mold. He slunk down the hallway, making his way to the vending machines at the end.

Between two apartment doors was a peeling 'Who is Atlas?' poster, half covered in blood. Kiku followed the trail of blood up (since there was no body on the floor) and hanging from the chandelier like a fish on a hook, was a man impaled through the gut. Blood dripped down, almost hitting Kiku. Someone must've dragged the man up from the floor. He swallowed back the bile that threatened to rise. The sooner they could get out of here, the happier he'd be. He would have nightmares for years, he knew. Kiku continued walking.

Bright blue light reflected into the alcove and the Circus of Values machine played a cheery tune as he crept closer.

"Welcome to the Circus of Values!"

Kiku double checked there were no Splicers about to jump out at him and stepped in front of the machine. He bought four First Aid Kits, five bags of chips, and eight Pep Bars. The machine laughed again.

Kiku backed away, spoils in his arms, and sprinted back to the safety of the apartment.

Lena stood in front of her boss as he paced the length of his office. She was torn. A part of her wanted to take one of his blasted golf clubs and bash it against his head, while the other wanted to go hunt down Atlas and ring his fucking neck. He had summoned her right after the war started on New Year's, but she ignored him until today.

Lena hated the Civil War happening in her city. It wasn't big enough for her to split over it yet, but until that happened, she couldn't make up her mind over which side to support, and her mind was already not firing on all cylinders. She could see the good and bad for both sides—Atlas and Ryan. She followed the will of her people, but they were split, and it was giving her a headache.

"A birdie informed me that the two diplomats that were spliced have been separated from their friends, and that they aren't the closest of comrades," Ryan drawled.

Lena picked at her nails. "So? Doesn't that just mean that they're more willing to finish each other off then? Why am I here?"

Andrew Ryan glared at his City. She continued to focus on her hands. "Unfortunately, the German is devoted to the Italian bitch that stowed away in that crate I got reports on." He ignored her question and continued like she was paying attention and cared. "While he won't go running off to Atlas, he's still dangerous."

"Then why not just capture them?"

"If only it were that easy…" he trailed off and sat down behind his desk. He smirked and looked at Lena. "How good are you at capturing people?"

Her eye's narrowed, taking in the man across the room from her. He didn't trust her. Fuck, he didn't trust anyone, even though Lena was the one he should trust the most. It's almost impossible for a Country to betray their home.

"No. I won't do it."

Ryan scowled. "You are my City, and I am your boss. You will do what I say!" His order was weak (technically it was only a question of her skills, but the order was implied) and easily ignored at the moment.

Lena stalked over and leaned over the desk. "You listen to me, Andrei Rianofski." Ryan flinched at the use of his birth name. "You don't control me. No one controls me! The people sway my choices. Their will shapes the City, not the other way around. I don't have to do a fucking thing you tell me to do." She was fudging this a bit, but what he didn't know couldn't bite her in the ass later. "I could easily take your golf club and bash it into your fleshy skull, causing it to crack open like a grapefruit." She leaned further over the desk; Ryan sunk into his chair trying to get away. The veins on her face pulsed with light and glowed brighter than they ever had. She leaned right into his face and smiled. He gulped in fear. "Do. You. Understand?"

Ryan nodded, neck cracking with the force of his nod.

Lena stood up and brushed imaginary dirt from her dress. "Good. Now I best be off. Find someone else to do your dirty work." She paused at the door, turning slightly to look back at Ryan. "Oh, and don't try hunting me down. I'm much more powerful than you think." She smiled sweetly and teleported away, an echo of a distorted laugh the only reminder of her presence.

"Bring me two specimens or I'll cut you up," Tyrone mocked. "Meh, meh, meh. Why can't he get his own damn bodies to cut up?"

"Let me go or I'll light the bag on fire!" a muffled voice shouted! Tyrone paused and looked around. He found a large muscular man with a squirming sack over his shoulder.

Tyrone looked at the man's eyes. Perfect! He had that gleam in his eyes, the gleam of an EVE user that didn't know their own limits yet. Steinman didn't have many people at that stage of Plasmid use. Usually they were just insane, and this man didn't look insane…yet.

Tyrone flexed his hands, electricity racing up and down his arms. He dashed forward and struck the duo, knocking them out cold. He pulled the bag off the second man.

"Fuck." They were much bigger up close. He tried to pull the one that wasn't in the bag, but was almost pulled off his feet. "That's not going to work. Knew I should've gotten Telekinesis." Cyclone was a bit useless to him right now, but at the time, it was a good idea, not to mention fun.

He quickly threw the bag over their faces, making it look like they were dead. Hopefully that'll hide them for a minute while he goes to look for a Garden. It was a piss-poor job, but it didn't matter that much. He could always find new patients.

Tyrone found a Gatherer's Garden machine two rooms over and bought Telekinesis, immediately injecting it. Didn't want anyone to steal it on his way back to the new patients. After your first Plasmid, any new ones didn't effect you as much. You could inject one and just keep going.

He thrust his hand at them, hoping it worked just like any other Plasmid, and almost got smacked in the face with the shorter one. "Fuck." He dropped them in shock. "Gotta be careful with that."

He levitated them again, more carefully this time, and wandered off back to the Medical Pavilion.

Francis frowned as he stood on the Icelandic dock. There was no record of any ship going to a place called Rapture. No one even knew about Rapture. It was if the place didn't exist. He remembered the sickly looking girl in her red polka-dotted dress. Her eyes stood out—one green, one electric blue—, but the most striking feature was the faint blue pulsing veins arcing down the right side of her face.

The humans had no idea. All he knew was that the city was located in the middle of the ocean. That didn't give him much of a lead, though. His only hints were in the Atlantic Ocean between America and Europe. There had to be another clue. He just needed to look harder.

Chapter Text

"The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane."

― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

Dr. J.S. Steinman gazed down at the two men tied up on the floor. One of his assistants brought them to him yesterday after injecting them with tranquilizer. A lot of tranquilizer. Apparently they both metabolized it much much faster than they should've. Glasses started to twitch. Steinman grabbed another tranq dart and stabbed him in the neck. He did the same to the taller blond. He couldn't be careless. These were made to take out Big Daddies and would put these men out for another twelve hours.

His assistant did say they were trouble, and they needed to be made perfect. There were ugly—ugly! What needed to be done? The taller one was too muscular, his face too unsymmetrical. And those scars on his chest. Those would have to go.

Glasses had scars, too—ugly scars, all of them.. He would fix the eyes, too. Maybe some nice fish eyes. Always staring, never blinking. He wouldn't need glasses when he was done.

Steinman grinned, lips stretched wide, showing too many teeth, and picked up a scalpel, reflecting the light off the desk lamp and onto Glasses' closed eyes.

Later. He would work on them later.

Lena was fuming. All she wanted to do was rest in Arcadia, but Ryan was breathing down her neck, and she wanted him to stop. She had to get the other Countries out of her city and back to the surface. While he didn't know they were Nations, she did. She wasn't about to tell him, either. Who knows what he'd do if he found that out? He couldn't hurt her too badly, but other immortals? Not good. Why couldn't they just leave? It's not like they want to be here anyway.

If they weren't going to leave on their own, she was going to find them and make them leave. With her help, it should be more successful than the other people that tried to leave and got shot on the way. The only problem was that everything was shut down. They'd figure it out later. Right now she had to find them.

Lena focused on the Countries' signatures, looking for their locations. Two were in the Medical Pavilion, moving around, and two were in Pauper's Drop. Pauper's Drop was where she needed to go then. Easy. The two in Pauper's Drop were staying still, and hopefully would stay that way so she wouldn't have to keep chasing after them.

She checked around her hiding space above the lobby of Athena's Glory. She couldn't risk getting caught by any of Ryan or Atlas' minions. Even after her threat to Ryan, she knew he would try and catch her to do his bidding, and as much as he was her boss, she was still being pulled away from him by Atlas and his ideology.

Lena glanced wistfully at a Hidey Hole, wishing she was still small enough to go crawling through them. She ducked out of her hiding spot and into the open, heading out.

Alfred squinted at the bright lights shining above him. This wasn't his room. He tried to sit up, but thick straps criss-crossed his body and held him tight against the cold, metal table. His head throbbed in time with his heart and his fingers twitched like electricity was still running through them. He felt empty.

He tried to open his mouth and demand to be let go, but someone had filled his mouth with cotton and he couldn't get his tongue to cooperate to form words. He doesn't think his mouth even moved when he tried to open it. Why did everything feel heavy?

He deliberately twitched his hand, but no fire came out. Something was missing. EVE. He had no EVE. How had it run out? He started shaking, rattling the table lightly. No EVE. Texas was missing. This was bad. So bad. He didn't want to go through withdrawal symptoms again.

A blur moved to the right of him and he moved his eyes towards the figure, not really being able to move his head.

"Oh, you're awake, good, good. You're going to be so beautiful. I just know it," the figure said. He came close enough for Alfred to make out scrubs and a mask over his face. He smiled wide under the mask, edges pushing past their limit. Alfred sucked in a frightened breath.

"Don't be afraid." He grabbed Alfred's chin, forcing his head to stretch backwards and strain the muscles in his neck. Alfred gasped in pain. "I'm going to make you perfect," he purred and pulled a marker from his pocket and started marking his skin.

"I'll cut…here…and here. Oh, this has to go," he muttered to himself. He pulled Alfred's face back down and stared into his eyes. "Need to fix the eyes, too. I can't let something that will be as beautiful as you wear such ugly glasses."

Alfred's chest shuddered with each heaving breath he took. He couldn't take his eyes off this man, and every instinct within him screamed to Get. Away. This man was insane. He squirmed on the table. There was nothing wrong with him and the crazy guy was going to cut up his handsome face! Maybe it's all a dream! Yeah, that's what it is. A bad dream. An EVE induced dream. That's it. All Alfred did was take one too many hits at once since he'd been without for too long.

Crazy guys' grin stretched impossibly further as he held the scalpel over him, catching the gleam of the overhead light. Why couldn't he change what was going on? He knew it was a dream. Wake up!

"Isn't it pretty? I'm going to use it to make you beautiful. You're going to be such a work of art," he boasted.

Alfred increased his struggles. Any remaining thoughts of this being a dream flew out the window. He was going to die.

Crazy man's grin faltered. "Hey now, if you struggle too much you'll break your bonds." He grabbed a syringe. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, we can't have that." He tapped the bubbles out. "Now I usually prefer my patients to one hundred percent conscious for medical procedures, but I can tell that you'll be a bit more trouble than I'm used to." He jammed the syringe into Alfred's clenched arm none too gently and pushed down the top, sending the clear liquid into his veins.

The drug took effect within moments and Alfred's movements calmed until he stopped moving around altogether. Any thoughts of struggle or escape floated out of his head before they fully formed. Crazy Man kept going in and out of focus. His body became jelly on the table, mouth dropping open slightly and fingers laid limply on the table.

"That's much better."

Crazy Man lowered the scalpel to Alfred's skin and pressed down, cutting into his face. Alfred whimpered, tears pooling in his eyes. Blood dripped out of the wound and onto the table, staining Crazy Man's apron a darker crimson.

The door exploded inward and Crazy Man jerked back from the table.

"Alright! Where's the American?" a female voice said.

The smoke cleared and a brown haired teenager stood with a grenade launcher in the doorway. Behind her stood a red-eyed Italy holding a wrench with a pink tinted flag, Kiku with his katana out, ready to swing, and that asshole blond with a pistol pointed at Crazy Man's head. There was rope hanging limply from his wrists and a manic gleam in his eye.

No one moved.

Lena sighed in contentment, eyes drooping, and pleased grin on her face as she removed the EVE hypo from her arm. It was a nasty way to deliver drugs, and she didn't really need to inject it to make her Plasmids work, but it made them more powerful. Besides, drinking the glowing blue liquid burned its way down the throat and left an ache worse than EVE withdrawal. She would take injections over drinking it any day.

It had taken the better part of a day to make her way down to Pauper's Drop without getting caught by the big goons. She still had to defend herself against some of her stupider citizens that tried to attack her for money or EVE or whatever they think they needed.

Her footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, lights flickering as water dripped into the circuitry, sending shadows around the broken doorways and ruined furniture scattered around. She side-stepped the dripping chandelier-man on the ceiling and crushed some glass under her feet. Lena held her head high and knocked on the door.

A minute later it creaked open just enough for an eye to peak out.

"Who are you?" an accented voice asked.

"Lena. You'd know me better as Rapture."

The man stared at her through that small crack, assessing her truthfulness. He took in her ragged dress and glowing veins on her face disappearing under her mask, as well as her mismatched eyes. He nodded and opened the door wider. A short Asian man stood just inside the room, sword in hard. "I'm Kiku Honda, Japan." He bowed slightly. "What do you want, Lena-san?" He didn't let her in just yet.

She tilted her head, trying to put an air of indifference to her tone, but it came off more impatient. "You four out of my city. We can handle things on our own. We don't need outside help."

The man invited her in and said, "We want to leave, you must know this. There's no way out, official or otherwise. Our companions are also missing. We won't leave without them."

Lena leaned against a table and sighed. "They're in the Medical Pavilion. Dr. Steinman is probably looking after them."

"Looking after them?" Lena startled and saw the other Country sitting in the corner. He was so quiet, she forgot he was there.

Lena nodded. "He's brilliant. One of the best medical men in the world."

The brown haired man jumped up, hands having around. "We need to get them out of there!"

"Who are you?" she asked, annoyed.

He froze and swallowed heavily. "Feliciano Vargas, North Italy. I've heard the Splicers whisper of him. They say he can fix their deformities."

Lena nodded. "Normally, I would let the good Doctor have his fun, but not this time. I don't want any more of that dirty American blood split in my city. And I defiantly don't want America as part of the Doctor's collection for the rest of my days. So, let's get going." She turned towards the door. "Either of you have a grenade launcher?"

Chapter Text

"The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing... not healing, not curing... that is a friend who cares."

-Henri Nouwen

Steinman's eyes widened as the last of the dust cleared. People don't just interrupt him when he's working!

He locked eyes with the girl. She narrowed her eyes in determination.

"UGLY!" he roared, rearing back, and he dropped his scalpel. It clattered to the floor. He backed-up to the support beam in the middle of the room and stared at the abominations that dared come inside his palace while he was working. No one moved as Steinman backed away. "I'm sorry, Aphrodite! I failed you!" he wailed and picked up his box of grenades. He pulled one out. "I'm sorry! I'll fix them right up," he snarled, throwing the grenade. It sailed through the air and landed with a thud in front of the imperfect specimens he wouldn't be able to fix, make perfect. They were so ugly! Too ugly for him to even fix. Such a waste!

The invading group struggled to figure out what to do with the ticking bomb, and only managed to take some very basic cover before it exploded. Steinman cackled and made his retreat into Rapture. Another day, he'd be back to finish his work.

Alfred watched the short confrontation take place, figures swimming in and out of his vision. It was hard to focus on being worried. It didn't matter, right? What was there to be afraid of? It was only a small explosion. He'd survived worse. Right? He had, hadn't he?

The room shook, vision whiting out, and the table flipped over, bonds melting free. On his cheek there was liquid that was oozing from what he thought was his ear. He couldn't be sure. Everything felt soft. Where was that buzzing coming from? He slowly curled up on the floor, body barely taking commands. Why couldn't he hear anything? Softness gave way to burning and pain. He pushed his hands over his ears. Oh fuck, what was going on? It hurt, oh god, it hurt! Make it stop, please god, make it stop.

Hands were touching him, uncurling his form, turning him over, prodding his side. He begged and tried pushing them away. Why couldn't he calm down? Where was the blissful feeling? He wanted that back. This world was pain and suffering.

A needle pierced the haze in his head figuratively and literally in his neck. The injected liquid felt warm, and the burning in his skin dulled a small amount. Everything stopped being so painful. It was nice. He could stay like this. This…floaty feeling. Thank you mysterious needle. Darkness tugged at the dregs of his mind and a gentle patting on his head put him right out.

America finally blacked out and Lena leaned back, dropping the calming agent onto the ground.

"Now that that's taken care of, Italy, you carry him," she declared. He startled from his place petting Alfred's head.

"Why me?" he asked.

Lena huffed. "You're the most useless, so you get to carry the dead weight."

Italy pouted but put his wrench/flag into his bag and heaved America over his shoulder. Japan handed Italy a pair of surprisingly intact glasses, and Italy pocketed them. The American's bomber jacket was stuffed into Italy's backpack.

They picked their way out of the Medical Pavilion, steering clear of the main hallways towards someplace safe.

"What if he wakes up and tries to kill me?" Italy asked, adjusting the man.

Germany sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Lena shrugged. "He'll probably be too weak to do any attacking. He's had a lot of drugs pumped into him."

Italy adjusted America again in response. Even though she could tell he was worried, he had a determination in his eyes that he would protect his friend no matter what. Lena looked away before she could feel jealous. What was there to be jealous about? She was happy down here. Alone.

The five Nations continued in silence. Lena led them through a destroyed general's store and into the the back room hidden behind a large cabinet wedged in front of a door.

This was one of the few safe houses she had spread around the city. Her least favorite, but still safe. Her favorite, and most used, was her workroom in Arcadia.

Italy set America on the floor, folding up his bomber jacket to use as a pillow. He placed the glasses onto America's face.

"Sumimasen, Lena-san," Japan said, "but where are we?"

Lena pulled open the fuse box on the wall and turned on the single bulb on the ceiling. It didn't help much. "Somewhere safe from Splicers." She glanced at America and Germany. "Well, Splicers that aren't Countries. We're gonna heal your friend, rest a bit, then we're going to figure out how to get you all out of the city."

Italy sat next to Germany on the floor and took his hand. Germany shut his eyes, other hand in a tight fist, and lips pursed. He looked like he was trying not to punch Italy. Probably didn't remember who his little lover was again.

"Will you be able to heal them?" Italy asked.

"The physical injures, yes. You have some First Aid Kits. Those can heal most things. We should let America burn those drugs out of his system before we try and introduce anything else, though. Don't know what would happen if we didn't."

"What about…Atlas said he'd be addicted to EVE no matter what," Italy said.

Lena shrugged. "It's just a normal drug. Sure, excessive usage causes deformities and whatever fuck else is going on, but I'm pretty sure he was lying. Withdrawal is way more intense since you've changed your DNA in a pretty big way, but without any new EVE, they should go back to normal. Well, as normal as they can, what with the DNA change and all, like I said."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Japan asked.

Lena turned to him. "I don't know. I'm not a scientist or a doctor. Purge them, I guess?" She shrugged again. "Don't know how to do that. I don't do magic shit. We're pure science down here. That's your problem."

She didn't know if they did magic, either, and it wasn't her concern. Italy nodded and rubbed Germany's arm in comfort. "And the memory problems?"

"Listen," Lena said, fed up with all the question. "I have never seen someone fully detox from EVE. The scientists tried to force someone to stop and they killed themselves midway through the withdrawal. I have no idea if the memory problems will stop. I don't even know if they'll survive detox, except for the fact that they can't die."

"…Right."

Japan reached out for Italy's hand and squeezed it in comfort. "We should get some sleep while we can," he said.

Lena pulled some blankets out of a box and handed them out. "No matter what your opinion of me and of Rapture is, you are safe in this room. Don't worry, " Lena reassured. She took her blanket and curled up into a ball in the far corner. She didn't shut her eyes just yet, watching the three talk.

Italy rested his head on Germany's shoulder, snoring in seconds. Lucky bastard.

"I'm losing myself, Kiku," Germany whispered, "I can feel myself slipping away. All I want to do is hurt you all. It's taking everything I have to prevent Feli from seeing that. What if I go through withdrawal and I still can't remember anything. What if I still want to hurt him?"

Japan locked eyes with Germany. "Feliciano-san and I will do everything we can to prevent either of those things from happening. Remember the times we spent together on the training ground? How you and I would be the only ones there and Itaria-san would only show up if Igirisu-san started chasing him." Germany closed his eyes and fell asleep to Japan's tales of their training sessions. He allowed himself a small smile and followed his companions into a light sleep.

Lena stayed up, staring at the unlikely group of Countries still in her home. They were such a goddamn weird bunch. She would be glad to be rid of them. Tomorrow.

Francis sighed and ran a hand down his exhausted face. It had only been two days since he arrived in Iceland and he was no closer to finding any new information than when he started.

The maps in this general store did tell him where the other docks in the area were, but this is the area where he dropped Feliciano off. He groaned and buried his head in his hands. That was so stupid! Why'd he let him go?

"Afsakið, þarftu hjálp?" a female voice asked gently.

Francis looked over to her. It was the cashier, looking concerned that he was crying over maps.

"Fyrirgefðu," he replied, then continued in English. "It's been a rough day." Francis didn't know much Icelandic. Usually a Country knew their main languages and any regional dialects. However, if they wanted to know one that wasn't commonly spoken in their home, they had to learn it the old fashioned way. English was something everyone picked up fairly quickly, if they didn't know it already.

The girl nodded. "I know English. How can I help?"

"I lost my friend. He got on this boat a few weeks ago and I haven't heard from him since."

She looked concerned. "Do you know where he was going? You could look up the boat manifests."

"I've tried that. There's no record anywhere."

She hummed and went back behind her desk, gesturing for him to follow. "Where was he going?"

"A place called Rapture." She froze. "Qu'est-ce que c'est?"

"There are…rumors. Boats that do not come back. Strange blinking lights in the middle of the ocean. Planes going to the middle of the ocean and never returning to shore."

"How do I get there?" he asked, desperate, leaning towards her.

"To where they disappear? You want to go where boats are not coming back?" She looked at him like he was crazy.

"Oui!"

She worried her lip for a moment and took out a scrap of paper, writing an address down.

"This man…he said he came from a new world. We thought he meant America, but he does not have an American accent. His stories make no sense. Looming buildings, glass tunnels, lavish living, but also hulking men in diving suits and glowing drugs."

"That sounds insane."

"I know. I cannot recall him naming this place in his retellings, but he does talk about the 'rapture' a lot."

Francis took the paper. "Maybe telling the name by not telling it."

"Kannski. I am sorry I cannot help you more."

"You've been a great help. Þakka þér!" he said and ran out the door. He had a lead!

"Verðu þér góður!"

Chapter Text

"There is a tyranny in the womb of every Utopia."

-Bertrand de Jouvenel, Sovereignty: An Inquiry Into the Political Good, 1998

"Wha' do we know abou' these men? Besides being diplomats ta their home country." Atlas asked his informants. On the desk in front of him he had security photos of Jones, Honda, Beilschmidt, and the Italian. "Anyone find ou' his name?" He pointed at the Italian.

"When I was hanging around Jones, he called the kid 'Italy'. Said it was a nickname," John said.

"Good enough feh me. Any updates?"

Marissa spoke up. "Last I heard them was goin' towards Pauper's."

"Heard some commotion over at Med Pav yesterday," Rachel reported.

"Four broke in through the main doors to the surgical suite," David continued, "Big 'plosion."

"Yeah," Rachel said. "Afterwards, the small guy"—she pointed at Italy—"was carrying Jones on his back. They went round a corner and I lost them."

Atlas stared at his goons in thought. "Who was tey with? Do we know 'im?"

David looked at Rachel. "You got a better look. It was a girl. Couldn't have been older than twenty."

"Tall, brown hair, some sort of bird mask, I think. Had blue veins down the side of her face," she said.

Atlas had seen the girl around. Probably everyone had at some point. She was a ghost. Always seemed to know everything that was going on. Also seemed to be in Ryan's pocket. If she was allying herself with these four, they were needed. Get them and you get her.

"Bring them ta me. As much force an' firepower ye need. Anythin' else I should know?"

"Sir," John said, "Jones wouldn't go down at New Year's."

"Wha' do ye mean, boyo?"

"He would get hit, then get right back up. Didn't seem ta notice too much, neither."

"Maybe they all like that?" Marissa asked.

"Double whateva firepower ye think ye was goin' ta use," Atlas ordered. "Bring Jones and Beilschmidt ta me alive. They have a Plasmid. We can use that. The other men donna matter. Bring them in alive or leave 'em fah dead. Bring the girl in alive. Got it?"

The four goons nodded and left to go gather forces. Sure, sometimes it was hard to get a bunch of people working together down in this dump, but with the promise of violence, most came running.

Alfred came to slowly. His head throbbed, but it was closer to the feel of a headache than an actual injury. His hearing was almost back to normal. Another few days, and it should return fully.

"Was goin' on?" he slurred, sitting up. He felt sticky, like he hadn't taken a shower in a few days.

Kiku moved over and helped him sit up. Once he was leaning against the wall, he handed him a bottle of water and a couple Pep Bars.

"We're trying to figure out how to get out of Rapture," Kiku said.

Alfred chugged the water and tore into a Pep Bar. "Bi' 'a-y sui'?"

"What?" blond guy (Ludwig?) said.

Alfred swallowed his food. "Big Daddy suit." He looked towards the girl. "Who are you?"

"Lena. Rapture." She didn't seem too happy to introduce herself.

Kiku looked at the others to see if they understood any more than he did. "I'm not sure I understand."

Lena stared at Alfred, not moving, waiting for an explanation. He explained, "We kill some Big Daddies. Take their suits. Walk to the nearest shore. Not like we can really die if we don't go without food or water for a few days, right."

"No," Lena said.

"What?" Alfred asked, shocked. "It's a great plan! Daring heroics! Sneaking past the guards while disguised as the guards. It's foul proof. Or do you mean the not dying thing? I'm pretty sure that was a thing."

Lena's frown grew more pronounced. She sent a shock to Alfred's leg. He yelped. "We're not killing the Big Daddies."

"Well why not?!" he shouted, throwing his arms up. It was a great plan. He came up with it, after all.

Lena jumped to her feet, arms rigid, hands fisted with fire rushed around them. Alfred shied back. Maybe he shouldn't piss her off.

"The Big Daddies care for the girls. Without them they get murdered or eaten or abused. And I can feel when the connections break. I can feel when one of them dies." The men were silent. It had been a very long time since they could feel the death of their citizens to that extent. With so many people, it was a dull roar in the back of their minds, but with so few important citizens, she must be hit harder at each death. "So, no, any plan with Big Daddies are off the table." She extinguished the flames and ran her hands under her mask and over her face.

"Next idea," Ludwig said.

"Tomato crate?" Feli suggested.

What the fuck? "Anything else?" Ludwig said, defeated.

"Does anyone have access to a submarine nearby?" Kiku asked.

"How would we get in contact with them?" Ludwig asked.

"Could we just swim?" Feli asked. "Like Alfred said, we can't really die, so what if we just open an airlock and start swimming. Once we reach the surface we can head towards shore."

"Even though we can't stay dead, we still need air. We still tire," Kiku countered.

"But sooner or later wouldn't we make it somewhere?" Feli asked.

"I don't think it's going to work, Feliciano-san, sorry."

"What if," Alfred started. This idea was brilliant. "We take a hallway and seal it up." They stared at him. "Then disconnect it from the main buildings. Strap an engine to one end of it and just ride it all the way to shore! Bam! Instant submarine!"

"That's stupider than the tomato crate idea," Ludwig deadpanned.

"Hey!" Feli and Alfred shouted.

"We don't have submarines," Lena said, almost to herself, "but we do have bathyspheres."

"We rode one of those down," Kiku remembered.

"We could steal one from that store that sells them," Alfred said.

"No, those have problems. And not that many citizens still have working ones," Lena informed them.

"So we're screwed," Feli said.

"The Welcome Center," Ludwig said.

"What about it?" Feli asked.

"Germany's right," Lena said, standing up and gathering their things. "The main bathysphere in the Welcome Center should work fine. It's frequently repaired and serviced. Until recently, it was used almost daily. We aren't far."

"Is that going to be safe?" Kiku asked.

"Should be. We have four health packs. Any of you injured? We can heal you up now. If we're sneaky, we hopefully won't have to do much fighting."

Alfred tried to stand, but everything still hurt. "Ow," he whined. "I feel like every nerve is trying to take off." Lena threw a First Aid Kit and hit him hard in the stomach.

Ludwig spoke up. "I'm also still getting aftershocks." Lena tossed him a kit. Whomever hit them with that electricity was pretty strong for the aftereffects to last this long.

"Italy, Japan?"

"I'm good. Thank you Lena-san."

Feli shook his head and gathered things into his backpack, leaving the wrench/flag out.

Alfred sighed at the rough treatment and dug into the First Aid Kit, pulling out the red hypo and injecting it into his arm right on top of a series of other half healed injection points. His healing ability had been on the fritz for a few days. The hypo got to work and the holes fully closed up. The other aches and pains dulled down to almost unnoticeable. His back still hurt a bit. Guess it can't fix everything.

"Anyone have any EVE left?" Alfred asked when he felt the healing finish. "I'm running on empty here.

Kiku reached out gently. "Alfred-san, I don't think that's such—"

"You don't get to tell me what to do," Alfred snapped, cutting him off, slapping the hand away. Kiku took a step back.

"He!" Ludwig protested.

"Cool it!" Lena shouted. "It doesn't matter right now. We'll get you both a couple EVE hypos, just in case. Once you're back home, you won't have any access to them, so no problem. Detox later. Be ready in case of a fight now. Leave any weapons you don't have ammo for." She shouldered past the men. "Let's go."

"Enter!" Andrew Ryan ordered.

"Sir," a female voice said, entering the room.

Andrew put down his pen and looked at the woman entering. She looked like she was geared for war. "Rachel. I see you've been busy."

"Yes, sir. Atlas is making a move on those four men and a girl."

"A girl?"

"Brown hair, has blue veins on her face."

"Lena. She's trouble. Do you know where they're going?"

"We have men stationed at all the main checkpoints. Atlas seems to think they may try to escape Rapture, so our biggest force is near the Welcome Center. They were last seen in the Medical Pavilion."

"Very good. What are your orders?"

"The men with Plasmids and Lena are to be brought to Atlas alive. He doesn't care about the other two."

"Bring those two to me, then. Alive, if at all possible. We can use them."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

Rachel nodded and left the office.

Interesting. Atlas was going to try and turn those two diplomats into his willing soldiers. And that bitch of a City. How dare she support a citizen of one of the countries that kept him down? Direct orders had worked on her before. They better work now. He wouldn't back down this time.

Francis slid down the last bit of the slope towards the front door of Kyung-woo Sung's house. He lived in a small home on the outskirts of the city. The closest neighbor was a good half hour away, and the front door was down a hill with crumbling stairs.

He knocked on the door. "Excuse me, Monsieur Sung?"

Something thudded inside the house. Someone stomped towards the door, but not close enough to open it.

"Kkeojeo!" someone, presumably Sung, shouted.

"Please," Francis begged. "I've been told you have information about Rapture." No further sound came from the house. "I have friends lost down there and—"

The door was wrenched open. "You should forget about your friends."

"What?"

"If they're in Rapture, they aren't coming back. Forget them. Make new friends." Sung was an older Korean gentleman. He had on ratty clothes that looked to be a month over due for a wash and greasy hair cropped short to his head. The most striking thing were the large boils trailing up his left arm. They looked like they hurt. Sung made no move to cover them when he noticed Francis' gaze.

Francis pulled his eyes back up to Sung's face. He stared coldly back at him, as he started to close the door. "Please, I need to find them." Francis was desperate. This was his only solid lead.

Sung sighed after a moment and opened the door wider, inviting Francis in. "It's a big place," he said about Rapture. "I should know. I helped build it." He prepared two cups of coffee, setting one in front of Francis.

"If you don't mind me asking, why aren't you there now?" Francis asked.

Sung explained, "I got into an accident right before they realized some of the workers would need to live down there too. To help run the place, you know, behind the scenes, while the big wigs live it up. I was sent to a hospital top side and told to never come back there again. Honestly a bit surprised they didn't kill me outright."

"Why's that?"

"No family left. It's not like anyone would miss me. I'd just be another death the city was built on."

Francis was silent as he drank some coffee. That was a painful thought.

"Listen. Your friends," Sung said, "Rapture is…a lot. So much happens in one day. The science they were doing." He shook his head. "It's not normal. You should forget about them."

Francis burst out of his seat. "I can't do that! So many people are counting on me to find them! Please, you don't have to come. I just need something. Coordinates, a docking site, anything."

He thought for a minute. "I give you coordinates, you leave me alone. Forever? You tell whoever told you my address to forget it, got it?"

"Oui, Oui."

He sighed and took another moment, stealing himself. "63 degrees, two minutes north by 29 degrees, 55 minutes west. You can rent boats from the docks. Be careful. Those waters are known as the Frozen Triangle. Many boats and planes have gone missing."

Francis grabbed Sung's hands, headless of the injury, and shook them. "Merci. Merci beaucoup. I'll be careful. I'm grateful."

"Just leave me alone."

Francis agreed and left the house in a hurry, back to his car, and back to the docks. He had a boat to rent.

Chapter Text

"Violence, naked force, has settled more issues in history than has any other factor, and the contrary opinion is wishful thinking at its worst. Nations and peoples who forget this basic truth have always paid for it with their lives and freedoms."

-Robert A. Heinlein, Starship Troopers, 1987

It was quiet, Feliciano thought, almost too quiet. Well, quiet in the sense that no one was around. Water still dripped from the walls, and there were distant gunshots almost out of hearing range. Every once in a while, he heard the fwoosh of someone teleporting, but never saw anyone. Feliciano would swear he heard scraping, like something sharp against a wall, as they ran out of the Medical Pavilion.

"They probably know what our end goal is, so we're fucked, just so you know," Lena said.

"That's not reassuring," Kiku said, hand tightening on his sword.

"Wasn't supposed to be. This way. Through the Transit Hub and up those stairs." She pointed across the room. "We have to keep going up. At least three floors."

"We're going to die," Feliciano whimpered.

"No, we won't!" Alfred said, "I'm the hero! I'll save us all."

"We're doomed," Ludwig deadpanned.

"Hey!"

"Shut up!" Lena snapped. "Fight amongst yourselves on the surface." Bees flew towards them from up ahead in the hallway. "Fuck!" They started to attack Lena since she was the leader of the pack. "Ow, fuck!"

"What the fuck? What do we do?" Alfred asked.

Kiku pulled out his pistol and shot a Splicer running towards them with a pipe. He jerked back, but continued running, just not quiet as fast as before.

Ludwig thrust his arm out, sending the guy careening back.

A shot rang out behind them, hitting above Kiku's head. Ludwig swung around a thrust his hand again. The guy flew far back into the Medical Pavilion and over some debris left in the middle of the room.

"What is happening?" Feliciano shouted cowering in the middle of the group.

"Get the fuck up!" Lena shouted. "You're the only one without a ranged weapon, so either get one, or cover our backs!" The bees started to tire out and fall to the ground, dead.

Feliciano nodded quickly and stood up, holding the wrench in front of him. He had to stop being so scared. Be scared later. Help now.

"Raaaahhhhh!" a deep voice yelled and threw a large rock at the group.

Lena held up her hand and caught the rock, sending it right back to the Brute Splicer. She immediately sent ice at him, freezing him in place. "We need to move."

The first Splicer ran towards them again and Alfred shot fire at him. He started running around screaming, trying to put out the flames. They weren't the smartest bunch.

They moved further through the room, trying to stay along the walls. The stairs would be the dangerous part. Well, more dangerous.

A large crack echoed around the room. Feliciano looked back at the Brute Splicer. He was breaking out!

"The big guy!" he shouted, pointing.

"America, you have anti-personal rounds. Hit him, now."

Alfred shouldered the shotgun and took aim. Two shots later and the Brute wasn't slowing down. He paused firing and threw fire at it, catching it aflame, then fired the gun again, but missing the target this time.

Ludwig blasted the Brute back into the wall, and he collapsed, dead, still aflame.

A series of rifle blasts came from the entrance to Neptune's Bounty. Alfred and Ludwig yelled out, clenching their shoulder and stomach respectively.

Kiku retaliated with a pistol shot, hitting the guy right in the head. He was down.

Lena moved closer to the stairs and peaked around the edge. Machine Gun rounds rained down on her, followed by a blast of electricity. She jumped back just as quick. A bomb followed right after. Ludwig blasted it away.

"What do we do?" Kiku asked. The bomb exploded on the other side of the room.

"I can blast them back," Ludwig said, clenching and unclenching his hand.

"Light them on fire, first," Lena ordered. "I'll send bees after them, then fire, then blast them. We run up after."

Everyone nodded.

She released the bees and they sped up the stairs. Three Splicers started shouting. It sounded like two women and a man. Alfred looked around the corner and shot flames up, hitting the people. Ludwig blasted them right after, then folded in on himself in pain.

"Go!" Lena, Alfred, and Kiku started running up the stairs.

"Ludwig?" Feliciano asked.

"I'm empty."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't have any EVE left."

"Oh." Feliciano reached into his backpack and pulled out an EVE hypo. He was the keeper of hypos and health kits. "Here. I know you don't want to, but we need you."

Ludwig hesitated but took the hypo and injected it. Feliciano looked away with a grimace while he did that and threw the empty hypo to the floor. He took a deep breath and jogged up the stairs, Feliciano right behind him.

Two pistol shots and one shotgun blast rang out halfway up. When they got to the top, the three Splicers were dead. Lena was going through their pockets and taking any extra ammunition and handing it out. She took the box of bombs and handed it to Feliciano.

"So you're not completely useless. Just don't hit us."

They crept forward, weapons at the ready. Alfred pulled Feliciano towards him and started rummaging through the bag. "Ahimè!" Feliciano said. "Alfred, I could've gotten it for you." He stumbled as Alfred released his hold on the bag, EVE hypo in hand. He looked away as Alfred injected it.

"This was just as easy," he grunted.

Kiku grasped Feliciano's shoulder and gave him a reassuring look. "We'll help them. Don't worry."

Each footstep reverberated around the empty theatre as they made their way across the room to the next set of stairs. Water dripped from an unseen leak and distant shouts could be heard. The stage below was lit up with one spotlight shining down right in the middle. The curtains were still.

"They're all going to be waiting for us at the exit," Ludwig said.

"Not surprising," Lena said, leading them up the stairs. "This area has a lot of places to hide, for both sides. An ambush in the next few rooms will be better." Lena laid down Cyclone traps at the top of the stairs just in case someone tried to follow them up.

They took the open walkway along the back wall of the theatre across and into the upper level of Kashmir's.

Alfred whistled. "This place looks a lot different than before."

"No fuck," Lena said. "There was a big fight. You were in it, remember?"

"No."

"Let's keep moving," Kiku said.

Ludwig was crouched at one end of a hallway, staring down it towards what Feliciano thought was a large open space at the other end.

"There's an elevator in the room down there that'll take us up to the level with the bathysphere."

"I think I hear people," Ludwig said, holding his arm out to stop them walking forward.

"Throw a bomb at them," Alfred suggested.

Ludwig scowled. "That's always your solution, isn't it?" he asked.

Kiku backed away slightly and readjusted his hand on his sword. He never liked being reminded of the bombs that ended WWII.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alfred pushed towards Ludwig, getting right up into his face.

"Back up, arschloch."

"Oh my god! Are they like this normally?" Lena asked Feliciano. Kiku watched the other duo nervously.

"Not usually this bad," Feliciano said, fidgeting with the bomb box.

Lena scowled and pulled a bomb from his arms, arming it. Feliciano shouted and moved back, pulling Kiku with him. She placed it gently on the ground in the middle of the hallway and backed up. "You should probably send the bomb across the way, otherwise, you'll be blown up," she said, casually.

It did the trick of distracting the two from fighting. Ludwig's eyes widened and he sent a powerful blast at the bomb. It shot down the hallway and exploded in the other room.

The five followed the bomb down the hallway, not wanting to be stuck at the other end after all that. It was a good distraction as any.

Lena sent out another wave of bees and it hit the Splicer in a dock worker's uniform that was running towards them shooting a pistol while on fire. He must've been at the top of the stairs. The shots missed and went wide. One bullet streaked a line across Feliciano's cheek and he yelled out in pain.

A Splicer in a red dress raised a Machine Gun and fired, spraying bullets in their direction. There was no way to block as they dodged out of the way. Feliciano felt a couple bullets go into, and back out, his arm and side. One of the bullets caught the dock worker in the head and he went down. She didn't care about friendly fire, it seemed.

Ludwig sent a blast out, catching a Splicer in a green shirt with a shotgun on the side. He flew back, skidding on the floor.

Kiku raised his pistol, catching a new Splicer, this one wearing a suit and a bunny mask, in the arm as he raised it, causing him to jerk and the attack of electricity missed the group. Instead, it landed in a large puddle of water, electrifying it. Which was inconvenient since the water stretched across half the room and they'd half to take the long way around.

Green shirt dodged around the group of Nations and came at them from behind, closest to Feliciano. Kiku turned to swing with his katana and sliced right across his chest. The Splicer jumped away, towards Feliciano. Machine Gun fire sounded behind Feliciano, followed by a fwoosh of flame.

He screamed and swung his wrench/flag as hard as he could and bashed the Splicer in the head. Green shirt was not quick enough to dodge Kiku's sword a second time and, a moment later, his head was rolling on the ground.

Feliciano breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath and turned around, ready to swing, but Red dress was down. He looked over at the other end of the room where Suit Splicer was. He stared at them for a moment assessing his odds, then bolted to one of the elevators.

Alfred shot flames and a bullet at him and Lena held out her hand, but nothing happened. The doors closed and he vanished upstairs, uninjured except for the one bullet wound from Kiku.

"Fuck. He was too far away. He's gone to warn the others."

"What if we do the same trick with the bomb but use the elevator?" Alfred asked.

"Then we destroy an elevator," Feliciano said.

"There's another one," Kiku pointed out.

Lena hummed. "It could work. They move fast enough. Let's try it."

They made their way carefully around the water and to the elevator on the side. Lena primed a bomb and sent the elevator up. They heard the faint ding and the doors rattling open.

KA-BOM-FWOOSH

The elevator exploded, crashing back down to the floor they were on, metal warping from the flames.

"That worked better than I thought," Lena said. "Should be clear now." They got in a working elevator and the doors shut. "Hopefully."

Feliciano grabbed onto Ludwig's hand and held tight.

They rode the elevator up, cautious as the doors opened, but no one came to ambush them yet. The Splicer caught in the explosion was groaning on the ground, somehow still alive. Kiku shot him in the head, putting him out of his misery.

"I'm going to have nightmares for years," Feliciano groaned, holding his stomach.

"Give me a hypo," Lena demanded. Feliciano's hands shook as he dug one out and handed it to her. She quickly injected it and forced them to move on. "We're almost there." Kiku reloaded his pistol. Alfred took the same moment to reload his shotgun.

They turned the corner to a long hallway. Standing at the opposite end was another Brute Splicer. He roared and charged forward. Lena tried to hit him with ice, but he ran her over before she could.

Kiku shot at him with his pistol, running through the magazine of bullets and not doing much damage. The Splicer started shaking, getting electrified by Lena, then thrown off with a blast.

Something flew through the air and hit the wall behind them, blowing up.

Feliciano flew through the air, screaming, and landed hard on his side. "Che cosa?" Feliciano groaned.

"Vorsicht!" Ludwig yelled and tackled Feliciano. He thrust a hand out behind him and sent back the second bomb heading towards them. It exploded in mid-air. He was up as quick as a flash and sprinting down the hallway, yelling. He tackled the Splicer at the end and bashed his head on the ground over and over until he stopped moving. Feliciano looked away and threw up the meager food in his stomach. This was an awful place.

Fire erupted next to him and he shouted and backed away, hitting his head against the wall. The Brute Splicer was on fire, and somehow frozen. He wasn't moving as Lena sent bolt after bolt of electricity into him. After a few moments of that, he shattered.

Feliciano took a moment to take stock of his friends. Alfred was bleeding from numerous bullet wounds, as was Kiku, but Kiku was also burned down the left side of his chest and arm. His katana was coated in blood. Ludwig limped back over to the group, blood dripping down his hands and breathing heavily. Lena was the worst off of all of them. The blue veins on her face were brighter than normal in the dim light and contrasting heavily with her pale skin. Blood ran down her face from a cut in her eyebrow and a gash on her side.

Feliciano himself had a throbbing head and burns on the right side of his body. He dug in his bag for the First Aid Kits, passing them out, as well as new EVE for the three that used it. He hoped that would be enough since he didn't have any First Aid Kits or EVE hypos left.

One last room and then it was a hallway and the exit.

Bees flew through the air headed straight towards Ludwig. Lena stared at them with a look of concentration and froze them in their tracks and sent a new set of bees towards the direction they came from. The original bees died on the spot.

They were in the lounge now. A woman in a blue dress aimed her machine gun and shot down at them from the balcony. Another man watched them from above. Ludwig retaliated and sent a sonic blast at her. She flew back, but her buddy in the ratty button-up wasn't so lucky and tripped over the railing and down onto the floor below, stunned.

Alfred shot fire at the stunned man.

"Why can't you just die already?" a Splicer with a shotgun yelled and charged them, holding the shotgun high like a club.

Feliciano yelled wordlessly back and swung his wrench/flag, hard, hitting the man in the stomach, and throwing him to the side.

Kiku swung his pistol around to point behind Feliciano's back and double-tapped a Splicer behind him. The same Splicer grabbed Feliciano's backpack and pulled backwards.

"Ahh!"

"Down!" Kiku yelled. Feliciano went boneless and Kiku sliced her head off.

Shotgun Splicer aimed his shotgun at Kiku and Feliciano threw a bomb at his face, knocking him further away. He threw it off, but was still caught in the blast and had to pat his shirt-sleeves off.

Blue dress Splicer looked over the balcony, assessing them, dodged a stream of fire and a bullet from Alfred and ran away, back into the upper level.

Bees flew over from a set of stairs going down and towards the group. Lena blasted them back towards the originator. The bees were disoriented for a moment but turned back to Lena and attacked her again.

"Why do the fucking bees hate me today?" she shouted, swatting at them.

Ludwig grabbed the pistol from the dead Splicer behind Feliciano and fired at the Splicer still on fire. He had been starting to get up. The man dropped and didn't move again. Ludwig used the remaining three shots on Shotgun guy. He dropped.

They stood in a circle, backs to each other and stared out. It didn't seem like anyone else was coming. Lena sent bees out, but they only wandered around the room for thirty seconds before dying. No one was there.

"At least three are still alive," Alfred said.

"For now," Ludwig said. They took a moment and went through the pockets of the downed Splicers, finding two EVE hypos and more bullets. Alfred and Ludwig immediately injected them and lead the way up the stairs to the Welcome Center.

The lights flickered and water dripped, but no one jumped out at them and there were no unusual noises.

"Quick, inside," Lena ordered, pushing them ahead of her into the bathysphere. She stood outside it. "Pull the lever there and it'll send it back to the surface. You're on your own then."

"Thank you, Lena-san," Kiku said. "We're very grateful."

She scowled. "Just get the fuck out. And never come back."

Kiku went over to the lever and tried to make it move. He gestured for Feliciano to try as well, but nothing happened. Lena watched them and pushed her way past.

"Let me try." Nothing worked for her either. "But…what? They worked for me yesterday."

Alfred stepped out of the bathysphere and looked at the screen attached. "It's saying bio-locked."

"What?" she said and moved out to look at the screen.

"Well, I can't have just anyone taking the bathyspheres for a spin, now can I?" Andrew Ryan asked from behind them. They spun around and he stood at the other end of the room, golf club in hand. Blue dress Splicer was standing next to him, machine gun out and pointed at the group.

"Fuck," Lena breathed.

Chapter Text

"It may be that the best we can hope for when it comes to utopias is that they be held at arm's length and regarded as aesthetic constructions, in which various proportions are neatly worked out, contradictions eliminated, and outside intrusions minimized. They are fictions, artifacts of culture. And we should be wary if they ever become much more."

-Edward Rothstein, Visions of Utopia, 2003

"You really think it would be that easy to leave?" Ryan asked. Lena started shaking. This was bad. So bad. How did he know? How did he find them?

"Hey, get away, fucker! This place was doomed from the start!" America shouted and threw fire at Ryan. His Splicer goon (Lena focused for a moment and get the name Rachel) shot a handful of rounds into him. He collapsed against the side of the bathysphere, breathing labored.

"Such a pity, Mr. Jones. We could've had some good business between the two of us." He looked past Lena into the bathysphere where the other three were. "And Mr. Honda, Mr. Beilschimdt. It's been an exciting few days, hasn't it. So sorry we never got the chance to meet until now." He focused back on Lena. She widened her stance in front of the bathysphere entrance. "Lena, come along," he ordered.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the three pull America into the bathysphere and Ryan and his goon did nothing to stop it. She felt a slight pull to go with Ryan, but ignored it. "Let them go."

Ryan frowned. "Why would I do that, foolish girl? So they can blab to the authorities and people would come investigate? Come now," he said, condescendingly, "you know that's what they'd do. You can't be that stupid."

Italy spoke up from where he hovered over America, who was barely staying conscious, "We wouldn't. I promise. We'll leave and never say a word to anyone."

Ryan focused back on them. "Who are you?"

"No one important," Lena insisted, bringing his attention back to her. "You let them leave. They'll keep quiet. I'll cooperate with whatever you want."

Ryan started chuckling. "You're funny. I didn't know that." He stopped and looked back at her, catching her eyes. "Kill the ones with Plasmids. Drag the other two out." Rachel handed her a pistol.

She grabbed it, almost in a trance and turned back to the group in the bathysphere. Why was she doing this? She didn't want to kill them. She just wanted them gone.

"Do it," Ryan ordered.

Her hand shook as she stepped up to the hatch. No. Fuck Ryan. She didn't want to kill them. Her hand twitched.

"Kill them," Ryan growled. Her hand snapped up to aim at Germany.

"Listen, Lena," Japan said, "I know it's hard to resist, but you can."

"Being in the middle of a Civil War makes it easier," America added, softly. "Focus on the part that isn't Ryan's underling."

Right. There was Atlas. He wanted reform. He wanted to screw Ryan over like he was screwed over. Half her citizens didn't even like Ryan's politics.

Her hand lowered.

"That's great. You're doing, great," Japan said.

Lena grunted, hand twitching on the gun in her hand. "What about when I'm free? You're still stuck here." Atlas and his dick squad were trying to make Rapture a new city, but they weren't Andrew fucking Ryan.

Italy spoke up, "You can emulate citizens' DNA."

Fuck Ryan. "What does that mean?" Fuck Ryan.

"It's…um…you kind of pretend you're them and then you're DNA changes and will be recognized as that person. It's easier to be someone you know verses a random person you've never met."

She painfully inched her pointer finger off the trigger. "So I have to fight his control while becoming him?" Why was Ryan staying silent during this? Maybe he enjoyed her pain and confusion.

"Not becoming him," Japan insisted. "Just channeling his essence as a citizen of your city to use the genetic lock."

"This is taking too long," Ryan drawled. "Shoot the American in the heart. Put him out of his misery." It was a direct order with no room for error.

She fired, hitting America in the chest and causing his heart to stop. Italy screamed, and he and Japan started crying. Germany stood up, planting himself in front of his comrades. She wouldn't be surprised if she didn't make it out of this alive.

"You can fight him. I know you can," Japan said, tears pouring over his cheeks. Germany stood his ground, ready to protect his comrades from her.

Fuck Ryan. Fuck Ryan. Fuck. Ryan. FUCK RYAN. "FUCK ANDREW RYAN!" she shouted, spinning around and throwing the gun as hard as she could at Ryan. It bounced off his head, knocking him out. She sent an Electo Bolt blast at Rachel and she yelled and ran away, still twitching. So much for bodyguards.

"Use him. Get us to the surface," Germany said, pointing at Ryan's prone body. Quieter, he said, "Practice the essence. It takes work."

Lena nodded and dragged her asshole of a boss over to the outside controls. She used his hand and entered the release codes.

"You did good," Japan said.

She paused. "I killed America."

Germany shrugged. "Most of us have at some point. He's annoying. It's hard to go against your boss."

"Thank you," Italy said, still holding onto America.

"Right." Lena nodded, finishing the settings. Only Ryan's genetic signature will be able to get this bathysphere working again, and she didn't think he was going to use it any time soon. "Please don't mention the city. We'll stay down here, and you stay up there."

"We promise," Japan said.

Germany and Italy nodded as well.

"It wasn't fun," Lena said, sealing them in. She released the pressure and they sunk into the water. It wasn't the smoothest ride, and she could see the bathysphere bob along jerkingly as it rose to the surface. Going down was always smoother than returning to the surface.

Ryan started groaning. Time to go. She dropped him, kicking him once in the ribs as payback, and escaped into a maintenance tunnel. It would be a while before she would surface to talk to anyone again.

Lena didn't see Ryan cursing at the bathysphere control panel. Lena also made it so it could only be operated from inside the bathysphere by him, up on the surface. He cursed his useless bodyguards and stalked back to his office, vowing to tighten security and protocols. She had to come out of hiding sometime, and when she did, well, let's just say, Ryan is going to have plans.

"Ahh, John, what's the news? I see we have no new guests," Atlas said, setting his drink down.

"They killed most of the men. Two Brutes like they were nothing," John said, scratching at one of his many bee stings. Betrayed by his own love.

"Where are tey now?"

John shrugged. "Not sure. Probably the surface."

Atlas looked towards the Heavens to grant him patience. "Who's alive?"

"Me, two others that took some damage, but will recover, and ahh…"

"Who else? Why ain't tey here?" Atlas asked.

"Rachel. She was working for Ryan."

"She's been playin' both sides?"

"Looks that way, boss."

Atlas turned and looked out the window. No one double crosses him and expects no consequences for their actions. "Kill her."

The rental agent would only rent Francis the boat if he paid for half a new boat up front, just in case he didn't come back. The rental agent didn't have much faith that he would, warning him that if he wasn't back within a week, he would first charge him the rest of the boat, then report him missing. Such a nice fellow. Francis knew he'd get most of the money back once he dropped the boat off when he returned, but in the mean-time, he was forced to hope his engine didn't die on him. He was able to rent a small boat, large enough to hold multiple people and make the 216 nautical mile (400 kilometer) trip there and back, but small enough to row if needed.

He headed towards the coordinates, water getting choppier as he continued out onto the Atlantic. The only saving grace was that it was a clear and sunny day. He didn't know what he was going to do once he got to the coordinates. Hopefully there was an island or something.

Three hours into his trip, the sonar, radar, and engine started sputtering on and off. Francis managed to get the radar working at the expanse of the engine going anything above 20 knots and the sonar system. This added an extra hour or so to his already long trip.

The engine died three miles away from the coordinates, so he picked up the oars and started rowing. He would get there, even if he had to swim.

The waters were not doing him any favors. They seemed to want to try their hardest to break his boat, rocking him around and getting him soaked. He now understood why the rental agent charged him so much.

On the crest of a large wave, he spied a lighthouse peaking up over the horizon and turned his boat towards it. Even if he just went in a complete circle, land was better than nothing right now.

As soon as he got within 400 meters of the lighthouse, the waters calmed, almost inviting him in. He rowed to the small dock and tied up the boat. Hopefully it'll still be there when he got back.

He was on a small island that only housed the lighthouse and nothing else. A short path lead from the dock and up to a set of large brass doors. He walked around to the front and cautiously opened the doors. What was this place? Was this the entrance to Rapture?

Inside was dark, but when he stepped in, motion sensors flicked the lights on. Towering over Francis was the bust of a man holding a red sign with gold writing that said 'No Gods or Kings, only man.'. The rest of the lighthouse was in an art deco style, towering high above him.

"Je n’y crois pas..." he mumbled, in awe and disbelief. His friends actually went into Rapture after seeing this sign. Were they crazy? If this even was the entrance to Rapture, anyway.

He continued down the stairs and faced a deepwater well. The water was rippling steadily, like something was traveling through it.

A round shape breached the water and Francis scrambled back to hide halfway up the stairs, out of site from its hatch.

It hissed open and a lithe shape stumbled out, sword aloft and ready to fight. "We're clear," he said. That voice…

"Feliciano," a deeper said, "Grab Alfred's head. Don't drop him."

"You're alive!" Francis yelled, bounding back down the stairs. Kiku spun to face him, katana out. A heavy thud banged on the ground of the ship thing and Feliciano's head poked out.

"Big brother Francis!" Feliciano yelled, leaping at Francis and hugging him tightly. Kiku relaxed and looked towards Ludwig who was now looking out.

"He dropped him," Ludwig accused.

Francis took the moment he was being squeezed to death to take in his friends. From what he could see in the dim light, they were covered in dirt and blood, and a lot of it looks like it was theirs, but not all. Bullet holes cut through their clothes, and Ludwig was limping. Their clothes looked burned in places, too.

"Feliciano-san, you either need to hold my katana or help Ludwig-san with Alfred-san," Kiku said to the still clinging Italian.

"Ve, sì, sì," he said and held out a hand for the sword. Kiku sighed but passed it over and went to help Ludwig.

"What's wrong with Alfred?" Francis asked. Feliciano flinched and let go of Francis' neck, but held onto his arm tightly. Kiku walked backwards carrying a body that was more blood than pale skin. It looked like their shirt had been ripped off to try and get to the many bullets riddling their torso. The most striking was the bullet wound right over the heart. He tried to avoid it, but couldn't and looked at the person's face and almost threw up. "Mon Dieu. Mon Dieu. Qu’est-il arrivé?"

"Rapture is not a good place," Feliciano whispered next to him. Ludwig threw Alfred over his shoulder in a fireman's carry once they were in the open. It wasn't like he could get any more hurt: he was dead. Kiku took his sword back. "So many horrible things."

Ludwig lead the way up the stairs, Alfred's head bouncing off his shoulder lifelessly. He would recover, after they got the bullets out. Sometimes they wouldn't come out on their own right away, but most of the time they weren't in vital places and you could get them out yourself.

Coming out into the twilight, Francis looked at his friends again. They were exhausted, and honestly looked worse in the dimming light. Uniforms and clothes were ragged. Francis didn't think any of them had one spec on them that was clean.

"I have a boat," he managed to choke out, pointing at the dock. They got settled in and he tried to start the engine, but no luck. "It died on me about three miles ago. We'll have to row. Hopefully it'll start once we get out."

Feliciano was the least injured and took up one of the oars while Francis took the other one. They rowed until they reached the edge of calm water. The choppy water at the edge made it almost impossible to row over the divide. They would need the engine, which wouldn't start, not for a long while still.

"What if, we clear the waves long enough for us to get through this first section?" Feliciano asked.

"How would we do that?" Francis asked. "We aren't magic."

Feliciano looked at Ludwig. "It might work," he said, rubbing Ludwig's arm.

He nodded and moved to the front of the boat. "Get ready to row."

"Que faites-vous?"

"Matsu," Kiku said, holding out his hand. "We'll go in the wrong direction. We need speed to get over, so push us from the back, then we should clear the waves."

Ludwig narrowed his eyes in thought but moved to the other side of the boat where Kiku grabbed onto his legs to hold him in the boat.

"What are you doing?" Francis asked again.

"Get ready, Francis-san."

Ludwig held out his hand and a concussive force exploded out, sending the small boat blasting forwards through the rough waves. Francis and Feliciano started rowing, trying to get further out.

"I think I can do it one more time," said Ludwig, panting. "Are we facing the right way?"

Francis looked at the radar and had Feliciano adjust their heading. He nodded and Ludwig braced himself, and let another force go. The rocketed forward again. This time when he tried to start the engine, it powered up no problem and they were able to quickly make their way back towards shore.

Francis didn't think to bring any first aid, but Kiku had found a pair of tweezers in Feliciano's bag. He had started to pull the bullets out of Alfred's chest as he laid still very dead on the floor of the boat. Kiku pulled the last bullet (the one over Alfred's heart) out and started bandaging him up. A few minutes after the last bullet was pulled, Alfred gave a gasp, his heart finally restarting.

"Owww," he moaned, curling into a ball. "My everything hurts." No one replied, letting him heal in silence. Someone had pulled Alfred's bomber jacket from Feliciano's bag and gave it back to the man. He wrapped it around his chest in lieu of a shirt and as a feeble attempt at comfort.

"What was that?" Francis asked once again, an hour later into the trip. "You couldn't do the pushing thing before. What happened down in Rapture?"

Feliciano hadn't stopped crying since they lost sight of the lighthouse, clinging tightly to Ludwig, who looked like he would rather be anywhere but here. It was not the look that usually graced Ludwig's face when Feliciano was around. Kiku looked tired, like he'd been through three wars. Alfred curled himself up against the side of the boat, face blank. This was the quietest he had ever seen the young Country.

Kiku steeled himself to tell the story, seeming to realize he was the most coherent one. "They called it a utopia, but it was anything but."