Dried leaves which settled on the ground crunched under the Englishman's feet as he stepped out of his car and scanned the farm house. Even though he lived in another country, he heard legends and tales growing up about this place in Texas. He didn't fear the so called Leatherface man, he heard they recovered his body weeks ago. Officers swarmed in one night and used their numbers to bring down the incestuous and murderous family. Arthur and the team were there to gather evidence and destroy the home. Like burning a book forbidden to be read. Once at the front door, he stared at the only photo of Leatherface, a man in an orange coat wearing a hockey mask and holding the infamous chainsaw in his hands.

A soft breeze ruffled the leaves around his feet, causing the house to seemingly groan with the coming autumn. There wasn't a soul in sight other than Arthur and his team. Each word spoken back and forth between them seemed far too loud. As though this place banished all noise.

A curtain rustled in the upstairs window, and had anyone noticed it, they would have seen a pair of bright blue eyes peaking out from behind the pale white of a hockey mask.

Arthur and the other team members ignored the usual items of a home such as the furniture and food laying about. "There's an awful stench, clearly, these people didn't take care of themselves." He wasn't part of the operation to finally exterminate the Jones family but, whispers from the coroners weren't kept behind doors about the vile and hideous diseases the family contracted. Most likely from the lack of a proper gene pool. Opened drawers held pictures, dead flowers, broken clocks and other useless items to the English detective. A very young female accompanied him, Lily, in searching for any worth to the police case. A nauseous feeling brewed in his stomach as they entered in the kitchen where they found Vash, Lily's brother. The sounds of metal clanking drew the Swiss man to a pot cooking onto a stove and bubbles escaping under the lid. He covered his nose with his sleeve and turned off the nob then, with a dirty rag, he removed the lid and looked inside only to scurry back when he found a human face, blistered red and eyes budging out of the skull, inside.

The rest of the team came running at the sound of the pot lid clattering to the ground, their foot steps covering up the soft creaking of the boards above them on the second floor.

Alfred was crouched by the top of the staircase, his fathers mask covering his eyes and short blond hair knotted and dirty with dried blood and other thing. His blue eyes blazed with a glittering, amused sort of fire as he listened to the shouts of panic coming from the first floor.

They would pay.

They would all pay for what they did to Pap and Gramps and the rest of the family.

Alfred smirked behind his hockey mask shouldering the glinting, metal chainsaw that'd been left behind when he came out of his hiding spot to find them all dead.

They would all pay.

"Cannabis, aren't they?" The Englishman coughed and put as much distance between him and the kitchen, the putrid smell died down soon after from his nostrils. Travis country lost their only means of money when the slaughter house was shut down for health violations. He guessed cannibalism was the only means of food for the Jones family but, that didn't justify their actions. The station worried the family would expand and start traveling for their food and so, they had to be put to an end. "Honda, Braginski, check this side of the upstairs home." The detective gestured to the steps covered in torn carpet and pond sized stains. A rat gnawed from under the rusty colored steps and chewed on something fleshy in the corner. "Zwingli, both of you follow me. Beillschmidt, stay down here."

Walking slowly up the stairs after checking the rest of the rooms leading to the second case, Arthur shined his flash light to light up the stair case. He wiped away the sweat from the heat and his forehead with his sleeve. If only he wasn't wearing he bloody bullet proof vest, he could breath a little easier. It was protocol and could save his life today. He didn't think much danger could still linger around but the home could be booby trapped for all he knew. He opened the first door after giving it a hard jerk with old hinges crying and found it to be a child's play room. Dust laid like a blanket over chipped old toys, fallen picture frames with cracked glass holding drawing with blood and piles of Mother Goose books. Odd. The Englishman didn't remember seeing any small bodies recovered.

Alfred had moved from his spot at the top of the stairs, smirking madly as he heard the thick, British accent order 'Beilschmidt's' to stay down stairs by himself... Pathetic.

The American shifted out of sight just as they came up to the second floor, disappearing down the back stairwell and crawling down to the kitchen without hardly a sound.

Ludwig was investigating in the living room, looking around for any sign or clues of evidence that might be helpful in identifying some of the victims.

Alfred stopped in the kitchen, tilting his head enough to get a good look at where he was before setting his chainsaw down on the floor, silently opening the door to the hall closet and pulling out the bloody baseball bat that had belonged to one of his uncles, nails sticking out of it at odd ends and chunks of rotted flesh still clinging to parts.

Ludwig was dead before he had a chance, his body falling to the floor with an audible thunk and the back of his scull crush under the weight of Alfred's swing.

Arthur turned to Vash with a concerned looked, thinking he heard something. "Lily, do you mind checking on Ludwig downstairs?"

"Alright, sir." She nodded before giving a kiss on her brother's cheek. A habit she never grew out of when she parted ways with him. In return, lips pecked his sister's forehead.

"Be careful." Also, a habit of Vash's which he never grew out of too. He watched her leave before stepping over soggy puzzles and tiny clothing in the play room to look outside of the window. Barren. The outside contained nothing but dry, cracked dirt paths with tall, thin wood formed by dead trees.

The lead detective opened more drawers and found another photo of Leatherface, this time, something was in the burly man's arms. Arthur clean the photo of dust and walked to the sunlight from a window. He pulled down the curtains and held the picture in the light. "What is that?" Eyes narrowed into the mass of sheets and made out a smaller face. A child? Did Leatherface have a child?

Alfred hooked his arms beneath the corpse's, leaving the bloody baseball bat on the floor in a pile of blood hair and brain matter. He payed no mind to the fresh blood that spilled onto him as he dragged Ludwigs body to the kitchen, stuffing him into the broom closet... He'd move him to the freezer later. Right now there was work to be done.

Like the girl coming down the stairs now.

Alfred grabbed a butcher knife off the counter top next to the stove. Moving towards the staircase he could hear her coming down.

Lily made the long walk down the hallway and covered her nose again as she reached closer and closer to the kitchen. She choked and before she stepped in a traveling flow of blood, she moved to the front door to breath. The stench somehow grew more putrid then before. "Ludwig?" She called with her soft voice lightly, hoping he would answer back.

A hand covered her mouth, pulling her roughly against a broad chest. The smell was terrible now. Reeking of corps' and unwashed human filth and the metallic scent of blood all mixed into the putrid, sickening likeness of a stray dog that'd been hit by a car.

A knife was set against her jugular, chapped lips pressing against here ear to whisper. "Ludwig can't play right now."

The slender woman tried to gasped but a scarred palm covered her entire mouth. She didn't know the voice and stood still with the knife on her neck but, her hand laid on top of her gun. Lily's gagging reflex came strong as she heaved and tried to hold down her stomach contents. Her eyes burn and tears formed.

The knife shifted down from her throat, the mans rough hand resting on top of hers on the handle of her gun. "Don't make a noise~" He cooed at her, though considering her mouth was still covered it was a useless order, he wrenched the gun from her belt, slipping it swiftly into one of the deep pockets of his leather coat and returning the knife to her throat, pressing it hard enough to draw a thin trail of blood, but not hard enough to kill. "Ya'll a pretty girl miss. I ain't seen a young lady ever before." His accent was thick, minimal education, but his voice was clearly young... Like that of a teenager.

Closing his eyes with the photo joining the other in his pocket, Arthur listened for anything. The sounds of evidence collected or Lily and Ludwig conversing. Something didn't feel right. Like a ghost lingered in the home and cast a feeling of worry. Was there a newborn in need of help? The station had taken 'innovatory' of the Jones family and nothing of the town records said anything about a baby being born recently. It was small chance but, it couldn't go ignored. Maybe in one of the rooms. "This room is done, we're going to move on."

"This room is empty as well." Ivan's voice came from across the hall, he and Kiku stepping out of the bed room to move on to the next one. "Is there anything special we should be looking for?"

Alfred dragged the knife across her throat in one, smooth motion... It wouldn't kill her, he knew enough about killing to know how to do it properly. This would just make sure she could scream... Cut her voice box.

His hand dropped from her mouth, dragging the girl by her hair to the kitchen- where the door to the basement was. "Come'on miss... Need ya outa the way 'till I can use ya." He'd seen the team coming into his house... She looked a lot like one of the men. And he'd use that later to have a little fun... He wanted to watch the lot of them suffer.

Arthur shoved his fists against a metal door to open it with the hinges screeching for a halt. Another bedroom, it appeared as he sighed. "We're looking for weapons, body parts, anything to collect from the home. Much like the stew we found, just like my nana made." Somehow, a joke emerged from the grime of the situation. "Also, I believe there's a child to be saved." The likelihood of an infant surviving weeks without proper adult supervision dulled next to nothing in the Jones Family. Completely alone, Arthur would greatly believe in the lord above for the miracle.

Lily steeled her veins and refused to show fear to the man, holding down a cry from the sting of the blade into her flesh. The reflex tugged harder the closer they entered to the kitchen. Her eyes fell onto the abused bat, soaked with blood, then darted at streaks of Ludwig's blood leading out from the kitchen.

Alfred smirked slightly when he saw her eyes follow the trail of blood giggling a little as he reached the basement door, throwing it open and dragging her down the wooden skeleton staircase to the damp, dirt floor basement below.

There were a few bones scattered around, some still with half rooted flesh clinging to the joints. But most of them where bare, gnaw marks left from rats and people alike. The workshop was in the corner, blood caked thickly onto the surface, but he didn't turn that way. Not right now.

The padlock of the freezer, spun beneath his free hand, the door coming open with an audible groan of rusted metal and the scraping of it moving across the dirt floor. A cold rush of air reached his face through the holes of his hockey mask.

He shoved her in, hard, slamming the door roughly and turning the padlock to keep her in.

Leavened in with the bodies a while... He'd get he'd when he needed her.

Ivan yawned, out of Arthur's sight for the Englishman would scold him, while rolling a shoulder, popping his bones. He didn't hate his job but, that didn't mean action came around every corner like he expected. Covering his purple eyes from the sun flooding through broken and brown stained window panes, Ivan looked at an old building a far from the Jones' home. "That is their slaughter house?" No wonder the family became accustom to tearing flesh from humans, they were already used to it for live stock.

"Indeed." Sneezing from the dust, the detective knocked on the walls to find a hallow space to hide the weapons for evidence. "If memory serves, they were found adding roaches and mice to the meat mixture. Horrid sanitation lead to many ill and sick residents. Police traced the diseases to the meat, therefore, the Jones family." The room where they killed the poor victims irked the detective since not much progress was made. "We would search the slaughter house but, it's been gutted and nothing was found."

Alfred moved back up the staircase towards the kitchen. He considered moving that Beilschmidts fellow to the freezer now... But decided against it. He'd handle that later... Maybe he'd make German sausage for his 'guests'.

Alfred's scarred palms locked onto the handle of his fathers chain saw as he passed where he left it in the hall... He'd been quite long enough.

There were four left.

Four little rodents running free in his house.

He'd have to split them up.

"If this wasn't such a big house, we might have found something by now." Shuffling through papers written in fade or bleeding ink from droplets overhead, Vash endlessly grunted when nothing useful turned up. His sister hadn't returned, he grew anxious for Lily even though he trained her himself in fighting and self defense. Vash, being the older sibling, naturally preferred her under his watchful eyes. Something started crawling along his sleeve and he smack away a large scorpion with a gasp before slamming his foot down.

Ivan turned his attention from the slaughter house on to the Swiss man. "What happened?"

"A bug almost stung me." He wiped off the bottom of his boot with the papers, crumbling it up and tossing it aside.

"Let's not make more of a mess, shall we?" Arthur walked into another door where Kiku opened a chest at the foot of a flea infested mattress. "Disgusting." He muttered. "Make sure to not get any of those on yourself."

"Yes sir." Kiku spoke respectfully, nodding his head as he began searching through the contents. His brows drew together, pulling out several torn, browned photo albums.

"Sir I... Think you should look at this." He turned the pages slowly, photo's of the Jones family... Leatherface, along with his siblings... 'Mama' and 'gramps' and all of the other identified bodies.

Well... All except one.

A little boy hung from Leatherface arm in one of the pictures, eyes shinning brightly at the camera, even through the black and white of the photograph.

Alfred moved up the steps to the second floor. Blue eyes shinning out from behind the bloodstained plastic of his hockey mask. He lowered his chainsaw, recognizing the sounds of men moving about in one of the rooms... Pap's room.

"What I'd kill for to have a can of pesticide right now?" Arthur opened one of his inner coat pockets and wore a surgical mask over his mouth. It wasn't much but, it helped, at least he liked to think it did. Crouching by the Japanese man, the Englishman looked over his shoulder an stared at the baby. "Hm." He removed the photo he had and the two children were the same. "Do you suppose that infant is still here?" His heartstrings tugged for the young one, if they found the little one, Arthur would want to raise such a innocent life. Maybe someone could be saved, he always looked for hope in many situations.

Fingers trailed against scratch marks in the wooden walls of the room adjacent to Arthur's. The wood easily chipped away under Ivan's nails. "Vash, I am thinking there's something behind this." Using his pen, the Russian worked on the walls until flakes fell to his feet.

Lily struggled with the man and once shoved into the freezer like container, she couldn't hold down her need to vomit. After heaving her breakfast onto the floor, bits landing on her clothes, she removed her pants to cover the spilling. Lily didn't want to see churned sausage and pancakes with potatoes. Her pants soaked up the brown and yellow mixture, she threw her coat on top, shivering more. The cellar freezer was cold and icy, meat frozen for cooking and suspended from hooks... Bodies in various states of gutting.

Alfred's hand rested on the ignition of his chainsaw, blue eyes blazing with a violent sort of fire behind his hockey mask as he stopped outside the room.

He pulled the chain.

Kiku jumped back from the wall as the wrenching sound tore through, hand raising in involuntary defense. "What's going on in there?!"

Ivan found cold bars, like that of a jail, just beneath the wall. He jolted at the sound of an engine. He and Vash drew their guns out at the sound of danger, aiming for the door way.

Arthur didn't believe his ears at the roaring from the hallway. "Arm yourself!" He yelled, finger on the trigger of his gun. He looked around and found a few shotguns poking out from under the bed. He hoped he wouldn't need to use them but also hoped that if he did, they were loaded.

Alfred giggled to himself, jamming the rotating blade into the door, churning metal easily cutting through splintered wood.

He went after the two blonds first... He'd get the other and he japaneseman later.

Alfred didn't say anything... He took a card from his paps book... It was more terrifying when you didn't speak.

But pap hadn't killed for the fear.

That was how he and Pap were different.

Backing away from the chainsaw, Ivan took aim at the door where the head would be but forget the broken open window and fell backwards. Turning around to save the Russian man, Vash reached his hand out but was too late as he watched Ivan's back slam into the ground. He was lucky to miss the farm equipment surrounding him.

Arthur heard the sounds and there was no doubt. Slowly he walked to the doorway, ready for anything to barge right in. He hadn't expected this.

The saw suddenly pulled out of the door, Alfred taking a few slow steps back and raising his leg, slamming his booted foot hard into the wood and feeling in crunch inward.

He came in with the chainsaw, blue eyes mad with amusement and focusing in on the remaining Swiss man.

He swung the blade around, aiming for the hand holding the gun.

Vash caught the flash of the chainsaw as he shot. "Leatherface?"

The ripping scream from the other room worried Arthur. "Who's there!?" He yelled, gesturing at Kiku to follow. He flung open the door and prepared himself for anything.

Alfred could have laughed at that... He really thought he was pap.

The bullet just missed Alfred's body, lodging in the loose of his jacket as he turned for another swing at Vash, this time the blade of the chainsaw catching the Swiss' forearm, grinding and tearing through flesh and bone.

Kiku moved quickly towards the door of the room, grabbing the doornob and keeping his gun leveled ahead of him at all times. "We need to help them sir!"

Grabbing a shot gun and tossing it at Kiku. "Use it!" He caught another scream before shooting at a man in the orange coat. "Who the hell is that?" He fired again, blood rushing to his finger tips and heart pounding from the disbelief. That couldn't have been the mad man they all feared! No! He was killed! Gunned down! This man was much thinner than the one photographed. Could it be that the Jones family made a body double? Arthur didn't want distract him mind from the danger at hand.

The shot missed, blowing a hole in the wall as Alfred turned to face them, blood, and chunks of meat churning in the metal chain of his saw.

He charged.

Kiku tried to take a shot at him, but it was no use, the cranking blade of the chainsaw carving through the meat of his stomach, the sickening smell of sewage spilling into the room as his entrails were creamed.

Disembowelment had a very particular smell. Alfred knew. He kind of liked it personally.

Vash, arm dismembered and squirming on the floor, bleed like a burst dam, redness coating the floor broads and dripping to the dinning room table underneath. With the Leatherface man turning his back on him, Vash use his hand which was still attached and fire his last two shots at the man's shoulders before the loss of blood blacken his mind.

Green eyes widen in horror once the Japanese man fell to the metal teeth eating into his skin. Arthur looked at the chainsaw wielding man and stepped away towards the stair case once the bullet flew pass him from Vash. He gave a brief look into the shredded Swiss man laying in the bloody room but, could not find Ivan. He didn't want to leave the two men behind but, his primal instinct for survival pumped adrenalin into his system.

Alfred shrieked in pain when he felt one of the bullets burry itself in his shoulder, wirling around to face Vash.

His death would be painful for that.

He stalked forward, pulling Lilie's gun from his coat pocket and pressing it hard between the Swiss' eyes. His own blue orbs shinning. He considered shooting him. But it wasn't good to kill when you were angry. It wasn't good practice.

With the suppose Leatherface occupied, as much as Arthur didn't like to think about it as such, he hurried down to the stair steps. He needed a plan to remove whoever that man was. It couldn't have been who he thought it was. He dashed too quickly and tripped over the loose carpet, falling against the stairs as he grunted once hitting the bloody floor. He needed to move, no rest for him when escaping a killer! He pushed himself up but cried with a sharp pain striking from his left arm. "Damn it!" He gritted his teeth and pushed on, leaning onto the front door and scrambling onto the porch. He would radio for back up, yes.

Alfred could hear the other scrambling away... Heard and gritted his teeth, whipping the butt of the pistol across Vash' face, into his temple, making sure he was unconscious before clambering after the Brit. He didn't bother to grab his chainsaw, simply moving down the stairs after the British man. Catching up to him easily, despite his head start.

His breath hitched when heavier footsteps followed behind him as he ran towards one of the cars. He didn't bother to look back reaching his hand outwards and almost breaking the handle of the car door off. Fingers gripped the radio and smashed the call button down, he screamed to other line before the hockey masked man got to him. "Back up now! All units! Please! It's alive!" Arthur was unsure if that was Leatherface but, nothing else was brought up to mind. He tried his luck to start the car but realized it wasn't his own.

A sledge hammer crashed into the windshield of the car, sending a spiderweb of cracks shooting out across the plexiglass.

Bright blue eyes blazed beneath the mark of Alfred's hockey mask, a crazed, psychotic sort of rage shaking his frame as he picked up the hammer, this time smashing straight through the glass, and reaching through to pull the detective out through the windshield.

He stopped, when he caught sight of the Brits eyes... Freezing with his hands on his collor and their faces inches apart.

They were... Such a pretty green.

Arthur shielded his eyes from the glass, thankful for the surgical mask catching any that would lodge in his mouth. He tried to climb to the other door to escape but, a beaten hand yanked his whole figure onto the ground. He prayed back up was on their way and hoped they wouldn't be too late. He stared up at the man covering the sun with his body, looking at him. Through the holes of the pale mask, Arthur noticed a sense of familiarity. The eyes. Shaking his hand, he removed the first photograph he found and gasped. There was a child that survived on the property, but it wasn't an infant. He turned the photo and read the words of a name. "Alfred Jones."

His head twitched the the side, still staring straight into Arthur's eyes. His fingers tightened on the form of Arthur's shirt, pulling him up closer to get a better look.

Such a... Such a nice pretty green...

"What's ya'll business pokin' 'round my house?" He broke his usual oath of silence... His family always said he wasn't good at keeping his mouth shut.

And... And he had such pretty eyes...

He gasped once tugged harder and panted lightly with an occasional swallowing of air as his heart pounded against his rib cage. Blood and dirt crusted on the cuts of the man's skin, however, around the blue eyes, the Englishman noticed clean flesh, the color like his own. His eyes held a faint hint of innocence from the photo, Arthur hoped maybe he could turn the murder around as he seemed to spare his life, unlike the lives of Kiku and Vash. He spoke? Arthur nodded and answered. "We're here to collect the weapons and any body remains from the people killed on this property."

"Ya'll bastards already took em!" The man... No... He could have been a teenager with that voice- sapped at him. "Ya took pap and mama and gramps and uncle Tex- hell ya'll to 'a entire family 'cept me!" He glared at him, gritting his teeth. "Ya'll shoulda jus' left a poor devil 'lone." He never would have left the property... He would have been too scared to.

He continued staring at Arthur's eyes' head swerving slightly to get a better look at them... They really were quite pretty... Pap would have liked them. Maybe he could put them on pap's grave.

"The people your family murdered!" He snapped back, getting to his feet, glaring back. Maybe he had some leverage with the boy. Arthur figured out this was really a child, not the man they feared when he was still alive. He had a few guns on his body and if need be, he would use them on the lad. "You have a choice, because you're so young, you have a chance to be a free man after serving time for what you did to my team members." He could find the good in anybody if he saw even an ounce of kindness.

"Ya'll shut up!" Alfred snapped at him, shoving the Brit back hard- hard against the cracked dried earth. "Ya'll don't know nothin' bout me and ya'll don't know nothin' bout my family! You leave the dead alone!" Part of him didn't want to hurt something so pretty... Because he really was pretty. A bird... A little angel like mama used to read him stories about...

He wanted to keep him.

"Ya'll best shut up." He warned him, slamming him back against the dirt one more time for good me sure. "And hold still- gimme ya guns."

A cry of pain escape his throat as he wanted to explain that Alfred needed to stop but, another slam elicited another cry. "Al-Alfred!" He gripped him by the collar of his coat and tossed him as they rolled their positions. No way would he render himself defenseless. He straddled the murder and held him down by his wrist, thinking he had enough strength to. "You must surrender!" Arthur wasn't a cop but, he had to try to save any lives that were left.

Such as Lily, walking slowly in the freezer and bumping into the closely hung bodies of animals and humans. After knocking and trying to break the door, she opted to find a spot free of blood and meat to huddle and preserve any body heat left. She didn't know how long the man intended to keep her inside and it scared her.

Alfred actually laughed at him, locking his hands onto his wrists and shoving him off easily- he was big for his age, and he had an unnatural strength about him... He'd often been told he got it from his father. "This ain't ya game to win Angel." He slammed him hard against the ground once again, letting the back of the smaller males skull connect with the dry earth. "Go to sleep." He slammed him down again and again.

He gasped and cried out with each painful blow but, Arthur would not give in so easily to him. If he did, he may never wake up. One effort he tried, he thought would help at least slow down Alfred from the hurting spears stabbing into his head. Pushing his hands against Alfred's face and ducking his head down so only his back struck the earth, Arthur grabbed the hockey mask and threw it further away. He faced up then his green eyes locked with blue, clearing seeing Alfred's whole face.

The American screamed at him in rage, blue eyes blazing. His teeth were yellowed. Clearly having never seen a dentist, and his hair was matted back and greasy... There was a strink about him, like rot and death and human filth... However there was a certain.. Handsomeness in his features. A youthful, boyish promise that, had he come from different circumstances, had the potential to carry him far in life.

He tried to slam the Brits head back, screaming obscenity at him, accent thickening with his anger until his words were unidentifiably to the British native.

He'd have to make him sorry now... But he wouldn't ruin his angels pretty face... No, no he wanted to keep it... He wanted to be able to see I whenever he wanted.

Arthur couldn't take any more pain but, his life depended on it! His screams fusing with Alfred awoke the Russian who was knocked out from earlier. His back moved with a dull soreness along his spine with a few broken vertebra, he snarled from the ache. He kept moving until he was able to stand on his own two feet. He thought the man with the chainsaw was a nightmare but, after recollecting his thoughts, he remembered it was all true. The voice was the lead detective, still alive. The Russian stumbled over his feet before, dust in his lung, before starting to run to the front of the house, gun in each hand. He gasped at the sight but left no time to think as he shot at the man's shoulder. "Back off!"

Alfred yowled in pain as a bullet tore once again through his wounded shoulder, slamming Arthur hard against the ground one more time before turning around, his good arm groping around until he found Arthur's pistol. "God damn it stay dead!" He was sure he'd seen him go out the fucking window.

Pain riveted from his between his spinal cord and bone but, he went through the roughest training sessions in the military before working in the filed. "God damn your face!" Ivan shouted and aimed for his head. "Get away from him, loh!" Not letting the man throw Arthur down again, Ivan shoved his foot against his waist and kicked him away. He pulled on Arthur's bad arm, dragging him to stand up. "Hooy tebe v zhopu!"

Alfred scowled at him dangerously, lunging at him with the barrel of the gun in his hand... He hit him with the butt. Hard. Wanting to hurt him... Wanting to make him bleed on the inside. Make it so he couldn't move anymore.

He had to keep him down.

Or that bastard would let his angel get away.

"Ack!" Ivan fell to his knees a few feet from the car, spine cracking hard as he grunted with Arthur's arm slung around his neck. He turned and shot behind him, trying to get away from the grasp of the murder. "Poshyel k chyertu! Go to hell!" He cursed between his native language and English. Arthur fumbled with one of his guns and fired as well, mind throbbing hard with pangs of metal inside. He would fight tooth and nail if that's what it meant to survive.

None of them struck Alfred... The American simply kept coming at them, his hand wrapping around the handle of his sledgehammer and bringing it down on Ivan's leg, smirking at the sound of cracking bone beneath the metal... He considered doing the same to the Brit so he couldn't run... But he didn't want to ruin his pretty little angels body just yet.

Leave that for later.

And as it was... He didn't want to kill this Braginski fellow yet... No he wanted to make him hurt first.

"Ah!" He fell and shoved Arthur towards the car as he fell to the dirt, cracking into the ground. "Zhopa!" He spat at Alfred, facing him with a gun, clicking his last bullets to his head. Despite those who always claimed the Russian as a cold man, he was honorable and bold.

The Englishman took his chance and ran into the car seat, scrambling for his keys with jittering hands. He glanced back at Ivan, before looking through his pockets for the blasted keys. If he lived, he swore he would urge the chief to only use button activated cars.

Alfred knocked the gun out of his hand, the pistol skidding across the cracked earth as Alfred raised the sledge hammer, bringing it down hard on Ivan's other shin.

He shouldn't be able to run now.

Hell. He wouldn't be able to walk now.

Which left Alfred... To grab his little angel before he flew away.

Ivan scream losing the feeling in his feet, he growled and shouted another insult at the man. "Ootebya nyet yayeesav! Fight like a real man!" He patted himself to find something, groaning as he bit his tongue to stop any whimpers. He wouldn't allow such a demeaning sound escape his lips. He crawled quickly on his arms, just like in the army, to grab hold of Alfred's ankle and bite with all the force possible.

He shoved the key inside the ignition as the teeth could have stripped the inside and turned. It creaked and didn't start. "Bloody old thing!" He cursed and hit the horn before trying again. He noticed how close Alfred was like last time, Arthur left the key inside and threw himself out of the window and ran to the near by woods, hoping to lose him.

Alfred yowled, kicking to get the Russian off... His booted foot making easy contact with Ivan's nose.

God damn it the Brit was running.

He free'd his ankle, taking off after Arthur- run slightly lopsided from the two bullets lodged in his shoulder.

Shrieking, Ivan covered his nose and glared hard, trying to grab at him but, he moved too quickly. He slammed his fist into the dry earth. "Unbju! I'll kill you!" Violet eyes looked at the house and crawled towards the front door, maybe someone else lived on?

Glad no real harm came to him except for a dull ache in his head, the Englishman moved quickly through the thin woods, cursing himself, breathing harder. He had to get away from that boy, even though he needed saving.

Alfred wasn't terribly concerned with Ivan's threat... He was gaining on Arthur.

He knew these woods like the back of his hand.

He'd grown up in these woods.

He'd killed in these woods.

Arthur didn't stand a chance on Alfred's own home turf.