War's Edge

Crescendo

Keep it together.

A slow intake of air. A shuddering release of it.

Keep yourself together.

-

Ivan woke up shivering. Goosebumps rose across the expanse of his arm, spreading to the rest of his body. He rolled from one side of the bed to the other, but both sides were cold and empty. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, still refusing to open his eyes while a lingering hand trailed up to his neck. When he felt the rough bandages on his neck instead of his scarf, he cracked an eye open. Sure enough, no one else lay beside him. He sighed, briefly shutting his eyes, then stepping out of bed to stretch. A few bones audibly popped into place.

Ivan moved toward his bedroom door and almost opened it, had he not remembered his scarf. After wrapping it around his neck and sighing at its warmth, he left his room and peeked into Alaska's bedroom. The young girl's back faced him, covers still piled up around her curled-up body. Ivan smiled a little and sat on the edge of her bed.

For the briefest moment, he felt a gentle ba-dum in his chest. He gripped the fabric above the sensation, recognizing the feeling as his own heartbeat. It was almost pleasant to feel for once.

With his gentle smile, he whispered, "*добре у...тро...?"

He heard the faintest sound from her—a sniffle. Up close, he could see slight movement.

"...папа..."

"Alaska?"

He leaned over to her side of the bed, seeing her trembling now.

"I-I'm scared..." Alaska whispered, eyes squeezed shut. Ivan gently pulled her tiny hand into his, and she instantly gripped it with all of her strength.

Ivan sat by her side a few more moments. She whimpered and refused to open her eyes, seemingly terrified of something that he could not fathom. She couldn't be in a nightmare because she was very much awake.

"I am making the breakf—"

"No!"

Alaska wrapped her arms around his arm, pulling down with much protest despite her being as light as a feather.

"Please don't leave! I'll be safe! Don't go! I don't wanna be alone! I don't want to go!" Alaska cried, hot tears cascading down her dark face.

Finally, she opened her watery eyes to reveal brilliant pink eyes. Her eyes hadn't been pink like that before... no, they had never been pink. Was this an act of magic? Was she sick? Was this the reason she was so terrified?

Some unknown look crossed her features for the briefest moment, then she unlatched herself from his arm and pulled the covers over her head.

What was he supposed to do in this situation?

He looked back upon his own childhood for answers.

Alaska didn't particularly seem to enjoy murdering others. She hadn't complained of others, nor had she stalked anyone of interest that may become her friend. She was a state—there was no way she could expose her identity, anyway.

Maybe she'd enjoy...

Ivan smiled fondly, a dreamy look in his violet eyes. He patted Alaska's head, or at least, he patted the sheets above her head, and swiftly left the room with a whispered promise of a gift.

Alaska proceeded to cry, unable to forget the image of Alfred examining an old pistol just moments before leaving the house.

And Ivan? He figured the younger nation had simply run off unannounced as usual.

-

Keep yourself cool. Cool, calm, collected...

Act natural.

Alfred looked over himself in the bathroom mirror. Just from an educated guess, he assumed he was at a rest-stop somewhere in Washington or Idaho.

Killing my own people, Alfred thought to himself, will do no good if they're innocent. I've left all of my paperwork at home, and I'm nowhere near Texas yet.

A rush of violently cruel thoughts surged through his mind, causing a sickening grin to spread across his face. Alfred could see a spark of insanity in his eyes and decided it was unnatural for him. He'd embrace the feeling, but only to his benefit. It didn't benefit to kill his own innocent people. So, instead, he pulled his phone out and dialed his boss' number.

"Oh, Jones? I thought you were on break."

"Change of plans," Alfred simply replied, emphasizing he didn't want any further questions. "I'm interested in those plans again. File 17-TQ, was it?"

"Oh."

A brief pause.

"Strange of you, Mr. Jones. Anything I should be mindful of?"

Alfred's reflection grimaced, a slightly frustrated and bored look in his eyes.

"Just give me an assignment," Alfred snapped, and after realizing he had lost his cool, added, "I just need to blow off some steam. I'd rather be efficient while I'm at it."

His boss thoughtfully hummed, deciding to obey and give the nation his assignment. Once Alfred was done with the pleasantries and had said his goodbyes, he grinned that sickly grin once more and mulled over the new information.

"Dallen. Last name, Dallen," Alfred muttered to himself just to hear the name of his target roll off his tongue.

A chaotic look crossed his features, and he nearly left the bathroom with the excitement flooding his veins at the thought of fresh blood spilled. However, his clothes were old and stained already. He hadn't brought any extra clothes of his own, but the old man had been traveling...

And so he settled for a wrinkle-free and nicely-pressed white dress shirt with a clean black bow tie and suspenders. He switched his old jeans out for a pair of clean black pants, decidedly leaving the suit jacket.

Pleased with his appearance, he lingered around the area, knowing it wouldn't be long before his equipment was delivered straight to him.