~*Chapter Nine*~

Gilbert, despite popular belief, had little to fill out his day.

Most of the time, when he grew bored of reading his old journals or pestering his brother, he resorted to drinking. Never mind that it was a bad habit to drink out of boredom; it wasn't as if he would drop dead from alcohol poisoning. However, it was on this particular day that there wasn't a trace of booze to be found at home. While it would be the responsible thing to go to the store and get more (along with other necessary groceries), Gilbert knew it would be easier to just find a bar and drink there instead.

"Sometimes I surprise myself with mein awesome ideas," He snickered to himself.

On his way out the door, he remembered that he should probably leave a note to tell Ludwig where he was going. The last time he left without saying anything, the German sent a fucking search party to look for him. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but the fuss his brother made over him was a little embarrassing. To this day, England and Denmark made it a point to bring it up every time they were out drinking together. Speaking of which…

"Dänemark? What are you doing here?"

Upon entering one of his favorite taverns, he noticed the lone figure at the bar and quickly recognized him as one of his usual drinking buddies.

"Eh?" Denmark looked up groggily. "Oh, 's you. Jus' thought I'd drop by an' all."

"Drinking without the Awesome Me? You've got some nerve!" Gilbert cackled, taking a seat next to his friend. "So, what's up?"

While the formerly known nation of Prussia came across as self-centered and arrogant the majority of the time, he was a bit more observant than most gave him credit for. While he usually drank for fun, he was no stranger to drinking his feelings away. He couldn't help but notice that Denmark was doing the latter.

"Ah, 's nothin'," Denmark replied, words slightly slurred. Gilbert frowned; the other must have had quite a few drinks if he was this disoriented. As part of the notorious Drinking Trio, he was known for either excessive drinking or the ability to hold his liquor, after all.

"C'mon, broha, even I can tell something is bothering you."

After a bit of hesitation, Denmark sighed. "Jus' feelin' down lately."

After that, it didn't take much more prompting to get the drunk Dane to spill his guts. Alcohol usually loosened the tongue, as they say. Within the next hour, Gilbert learned that Denmark missed the days when the other Nordics depended on him and how he felt like Norway hated him. He was also told of a recent incident at the last World meeting where Norway had behaved rather coldly. Gilbert did his best to reassure his friend that the other Nordics were normally cold nations and that he shouldn't take certain things too seriously, though he felt most of his advice fell on deaf ears.

"I mean, 's like he prefers hangin' out with his magic friends instead o' th' res' o' us!" Denmark whined. "Not my fault if I can't see stupid faeries an' trolls…"

"Und we're done here," Gilbert sighed. He decided that the easiest way to solve the problem was to have Denmark talk to the other Nordics about his insecurities.

Paying for their drinks, he hauled the other nation to his feet and started what he felt to be a long walk to Norway's place.

"Wow, that's, uh, not good. I mean, wow, man, are you sure?"

"For the last time, Alfred, I saw Japan get attacked at Germany's house!" Canada whisper-shouted. It was a challenge for him to surpass a certain level of loudness, no matter how upset he was.

"Okay…"

As the personification of America, he was used to over-the-top stories and situations, though this had to take the cake. To be fair, it was hard for Alfred to believe that Kiku, one of his best friends, was just killed by Italy and a clone. Because honestly, who would come up with such a sick story? Certainly not Matthew.

"Did someone put you up to this? Just tell me and I'll kick their ass," Alfred said, a dark look crossing his features. Matthew shook his head.

"N-No! You have to believe me, Alfred! I don't think anyone else will…"

Alfred sighed, scratching the back of his head. He took into account the fierceness of the other's tone, the pleading look in his eyes bloodshot from crying. Matthew seemed completely sincere and terrified by what he had witnessed. Just less than an hour before, his brother had come to his front door. He was on the verge of passing out by hyperventilating on the spot, yet he still struggled to get his words out. Who was he to deny his brother this after what he had gone through? It was a hero's job to help out with these sorts of things, right?

"Okay."

"Okay?" Matthew said incredulously. "So you believe me?"

"Yeah," Alfred nodded. "It sounds pretty crazy and… I'd be lying if I said I wasn't upset about J-Japan."

Matthew looked down, suddenly feeling a wave of guilt and slight nausea wash over him. Why did he freeze up? Could he have saved Japan? Why hadn't he gone to find Germany or Prussia? He knew the answers to these questions, as much as he hated to admit it. He had been afraid. He wasn't strong. He was too busy worrying about getting caught.

"I'm sorry," He sniffled. "I, I could have—"

"Matthew."

He looked up in surprise as a hand came down onto his shoulder, seeing one of his brother's most reassuring grins before him. He blinked back several more tears as he was overcome by sudden emotion.

"B-But—"

"Don't beat yourself up over this, Mattie. Sure, maybe a lot of things could have happened differently, but you don't know that. What's important is what we do next, okay?" Alfred told him, a determined look crossing his features. "Now, let's go."

"H-Huh? Go where?" Matthew asked, eyes wide in confusion. Alfred merely grinned, offering a hand to his brother as he stood.

"We're dealing with a killer clone, right?" At Matthew's slow nod, he continued, "So we should talk to the guy that deals with this sort of stuff all the time."

"And who might that be?"

Alfred's grin broadened. "Arthur."

"What can you tell me about Luciano?"

Oliver stopped humming and looked up, an odd look crossing his features. "Pardon?"

"W-Well," Feliciano hesitated, "What… kind of person is he?"

Deep down, the Italian knew how ridiculous his question must have sounded. After all, Luciano was the one that "killed" him and sent him to this scary place. But he also knew that this was his chance to learn a little more about what he was up against, and Oliver had promised to help him in any way he could.

"Luciano, hm? Welllll," Oliver paused, tapping a finger to his chin as he contemplated, "He's a frightening fellow, I can tell you that much."

"Um, a-anything else?"

"What else do you want me to say, poppet? That he's ruled our world since plunging it into darkness decades ago? That he's the reason it's not safe to go outside anymore? That he's single-handedly reduced our existence as nations to rubbish?" Oliver chuckled humorlessly, "Oh, I could go on all day about the things he's done!"

Feliciano wasn't sure of the answer he'd been expecting, but it surely wasn't that. Perhaps it was time to change topics before Oliver went back on his word and hurt him. However, before he had the chance to do so, the Englishman slapped a hand over his mouth, shushing him when he made a muffled sound.

"Someone's here," Oliver murmured, glancing around urgently. "We need to leave."

Feliciano wriggled out of his grasp, trying his best not to scream and cry as he normally would. "B-But you just said it's not s-safe to go outside!"

"For humans," Oliver corrected. "Now, we need to sneak out before they catch me in here. Who knows what would happen~?"

Feliciano could have been imagining it, but it sounded as though Oliver wasn't too concerned about getting caught. Another thought occurred to him: if this was Luciano's home, how did Oliver get here in the first place? Or better yet, why was he here?

Maybe he should have asked those questions sooner.

AN: Another transitional chapter, I suppose. But it's all leading up to something big, I promise! Until next time~