Life's return

Shopping List and Danger

TW: themes of suicide, Possession (kinda?)

New York listened to the familiar bubbling of the percolator over the fire. There was no coffee to be found in the camp, but he couldn't say he disliked the idea of tea about now. Even if it was made with raspberry leaves and various other herbs Louisiana had found.

He watched her pour a cup and set it aside for America. She gestured with her free hand to his cup which he held out. She partially filled it then set the percolator down. 

"Think you could take that to Dad?" She asked.

"Sure, where'd you put him?"

"Al and Sippy got him in the cockpit. Can't miss him."

"Thanks." He picked up the mug and walked to the plane. Holding the two mugs in one hand he opened the door. Most of his siblings were still asleep, along with Alaska's friends who opted to seek safety in numbers. He didn't see Texas or California but that didn't surprise him.

He quietly moved down the isle dodging sleeping peoples' limbs. He opened the door and looked in.

The back of America's head poked over one of the pilot's seats. California was parked beside him, facing the door. A plate of berries was sat on the dash board within arms reach. Make shift candles were scattered about the room in cans.

"His hands have never been this cold." California gently put America's had back in his lap. "Even when he was passed out, I've never felt his hands be this cold."

"Lu sent this for him." New York set the mug for America next to the berries. He handed his mug to California.

"His breathing has gotten fainter since last night. I think-"

"Wait a bit before you give a prognosis. We know Dad's a mad tough son of a bitch."

"Sorry to be heavy, but we need to prepare for-"

"He just needs some time. He'll be okay."

California knit their brow but didn't say any thing else. New York nodded to himself and walked back to his seat. He grabbed a tote bag and his list, and quietly left the plane.

"Where you headed?" Louisiana asked from her place by the fire.

"Just going to get some food for myself, since you'd prefer that." He slid the list into his back pocket and tried to cover his movements by stretching. 

"Okay, be careful." She went back to tending the fire.

He nodded and walked towards the forest. Justice would be served.

________

"Confederate States of America." He said his own name to himself like a chant. The black inside of the mask in his hands seemed to suck the light away from the forest around him, somehow casting shadow like a candle cast light. He knew that on the other side was the face all the other denizens of hell recognized, feared, and had some semblance of respect for. He hated it.

He felt a tremble in the chains around him. His siblings were up and moving around camp. 

The scraps of Hell were denser in this area. He relaxed his mind and tried to let the bits he could understand come into focus.

Cold bits of Hades mixed with red hot pieces of Hell. The faintest bits of Hel and Dubnos tempered the chains. He'd have to be careful, ancients weren't far from here. God help him if they were meaner than he was.

Biter grief and resentment trickled to him, along with regret. Self hatred, a concoction he had learned as he watched the living before the chaos started. Funny how death brought that clarity to him, along with the futility of dwelling on it.

A distinctive cold shock hit him. Nav, mixed with hell and forced into a hammer shape. Soviet was near, and if he had to guess, she was angry.

He pulled himself back together. He'd have to hope he had enough sway over the chains to defend them. He would keep his last breath's promise, if nothing else.

He speed to the campfire, startling Louisiana.

"We need to get everyone back to camp, now."

"What's wrong?" Texas asked from the door of the plane.

"I'll 'plain later, git your asses in the plane, and be ready to scatter."

A crack of thunder to the north caught his attention. A large red storm rolled steadily in their direction, throwing golden lightning.

Louisiana fired two shots at the sky. 

________

New York perked up upon hearing two consecutive gun shots. He tied up the bandana of ingredients and buried it in some dried grass he had gathered. To anyone else, it would look like a weaving project. He stuffed his list into his pocket.

He ran back to camp. 

Dixie stood over the fire. He slid on the mask of the Virginia battle standard and gestured towards the plane. A long, glowing hot chain formed in his other hand. 

New York nodded and jogged to the door of the plane to find it locked. He banged on it, but all he got in response was silence. 

He tried to open it again, but a hand roughly pulled him away. It was Dixie. He mutely pointed to the door.

"What is so scary you won't talk?"

Dixie answered by ripping the door open and shoving him in. There was a sound of heavy chains wrapping around the outside of the plane.

"*Why didn't you tell me your brothers were connected to the Dark Duke of Chains?*" Poland harshly whispered at Alaska in Russian.

"Wait, who?" New York asked. He grabbed Poland's shoulder over his wing.

"Oh, wait, that's something only someone who died before would know..."

Suddenly Texas had the Pole by his collar and pinned to the wall.

"You better get talking real quick!" He growled in the winged man's face.

Poland's face suddenly started to change. A scar formed along the left side of his face, along with a seal on the other side. He was suddenly taller and more muscled,  filling the once oversized sweater.

"*Enough.*" His voice sounded like two people talking in unison New York almost didn't notice he was speaking in German. He slapped Texas hands away. "*If you want answers, ask properly. Or do you want death?*"

The states exchanged startled looks. Alaska's face hardened.

"Who are you, what did you do to Poland?" Her voice was angry but clear.

"He's Polish Lithuanian commonwealth." New York answered.

He tilted his head at New York. "*Of your father's?*"

"*Yes. Save Russia.*"

He nodded in acknowledgement. 

"So, where's Poland?" New York asked.

"I am a part of him. He is of me. I came forward because of the duke. Though it seems my judgement was incorrect."

"Who's this duke you keep talkin' 'bout?" Texas finally asked.

"Confederate States of America. He who was built on sweat and blood. The last great slave master. The dark duke of chains. And apparently, Dixie."