Paint it Another Colour

Chapter 4

15 years since 9/11.
Remember

Arthur knew something was off the second he stepped back into his home. It had been a few days since Ivan's 'surprise' meeting and no one had heard from the Russian since. He'd had many a frantic text from Yao, clearly forwarded to everyone, demanding that if they knew where he was, they tell him, but no one had any idea.

Now, as he stepped into the home he shared with his brothers, it was quiet. Cold, dark and quiet. It wasn't usually this quiet. Usually, Allistor would be tormenting Peter, Ronan and Bridget would be screaming at each other for some reason or another and Dylan would be either blasting music or sat with a pillow over his head, watching the television at an eardrum-destroying volume.

Today, there was nothing. Of course, Peter was over with the Nordics for the month, he tended to skip between his two families, never really choosing to stick in one place, or just turning up unannounced, often with many of his micronation friends. Of course, Bridget had refused to get up the day before he left for the meeting, complaining of a sore head, and Dylan had phoned him to say she was still refusing to move. The lack of noise from others would mean he wouldn't play music or the television so loud, but even from those disruptions gone, Allistor would still find someone to argue with and Bridget definitely wouldn't be staying quiet no matter how ill she was.

Something was definitely wrong.

"Hello?" Arthur, stood by the door for a second, scared before slowly hanging his coat over the coat rack. "I swear to Mother Britannia Allistor, if you're going to jump out at me I'm going to curse you ten times over."

Nothing.

There wasn't a sound so he peered out the window. There was five cars on the drive including his own, so they should be here, unless they'd gotten someone else to pick them up?

He sighed and went on a patrol of the house, checking every room thoroughly before he left it, every curtain, every wardrobe, every small dark space. There was no one here. He checked his phone. A single text from Dylan, but nothing else apart from that. It was pretty normal for them not to tell him where they were going if they were going out at all. He was used to it. Clearly that was the case. Clearly they'd planned on getting totally drunk and had forgotten the cars.

Yes, that had to be the case, but he couldn't shake the feeling of unease he had.

Shaking it off, Arthur finished inspecting the rooms and walked back downstairs. As he got closer to the kitchen, a smell hit his nose. It was one of rotten meat or some other food produce of that kind.

"Bloody git" Arthur hissed, picking up his phone, dialling Allistor's number and putting it up to his ear. After a bit, it started ringing, slowly. A guitar heavy riff started up from the kitchen before moving into 'Love Illumination' by Franz Ferdinand. Arthur huffed and ended the call, the ringtone finishing. "Wanker forgot his phone again."

He strode into the kitchen ready to seize up his brother's phone when another smell appeared. It blocked out that of rotten meat, making him relieved for a second before he realised what it was. Baking. But... no one in the house could bake. The last time anyone who could bake had come round was Francis at least a couple of months ago, unless the idiot had snuck back into the house to randomly cook something.

"Francis you wanker I ought to..." he trailed off as he burst into the kitchen, the phone still in his grasp slipping from his hand and shattering on the tiled floor. He took a shaky step backwards, staring. "You."

"Hmm?" Oliver looked up from licking a wooden spoon with cake mixture on it, pouring over one of the many cook books they had in their house. "Oh, 'ello poppet. You missed me?"