The Canadian Connection

Ch. 17 Cut the Deck, New Game

Recap.

"Ve, let me see…" Feliciano though aloud, looking at the several keys on the chain given to him in concentration. At length the Italian shrugged, choosing one that looked right he pushed it into the keyhole, only for the door to shift slightly open at the slight nudge. Curious, the Italian lightly pushed on the door, watching in rapt interest which soon changed to horror as the door opened all the way revealing what could be considered a war zone.

Jaw slack in awe, the Italian gingerly stepped into the apartment, turning about as he assessed how tremendous and all-pervading the destruction to the home truly was. So enwrapped in his horror, the Italian did not even register the owner of the room's approach.

"Well Feliciano I- Oh god dammit Feliciano! You weren't even alone for a full minute!" Ludwig bellowed furiously, dropping his bags to gesture at his destroyed home furiously.

"Ve!"

Gilbert did not have people over often. Neither friends, lovers nor others were generally admitted to his apartment. Friends, of whom there were only two which he would even consider admitting to his home, a French fellow by the name of Francis and a Spanish fellow going by Antonio, never came over of their own volition. Francis saying he would hate to intrude, and Antonio adding that he thought it was because Gilbert's apartment was a mess. As for women, Gilbert tended to try and make sure they never knew where he lived, relationships with them after the first night of torrid passion often going… badly.

In his defence, beer makes them look thinner.

Still, with his company at the moment, Gilbert had begun to regret breaking his rule.

"Boom! Headshots originated in Korea!" Yong-soo crowed over the crack of a bullet which echoed from the massive speakers of the television.

"God damn hacks!" Gilberts snarled, watching as the green armoured man collapsed on the ground limply, the screen panning out to show him the death. "Fuckin' Halo." The albino snapped, raising his arm to fling the controller at the tv and punish it for its failure to reflect his awesome playing.

A dull knocking from the door saved the device. At once Alfred, Norge, Tino and Berwald turned their heads towards the source of the sound, hands sliding to pockets where actual guns were located. Gilbert twisted his head around with a scowl, reluctantly putting the controller down. Rising from the couch he stomped over to the door, peering through the peephole. "Who the-, oh." Gilbert grabbed the doorknob and turned it, admitting the practically steaming with fury green eyed Briton on the other side. "Yo Arthur, how ya doin'."

"How the bleeding hell do you think I'm doing!" Arthur bellowed, his voice echoing through the apartment. "I had no damn idea where the hell you lot went. I go back to the bridge and find nothing, check my phone and surprise, no messages! I drove around town for nearly an hour looking for you all. I thought Ivan had gotten you and was just waiting for the ransom message. Then I think to myself, if I were as daft as Gilbert, where the bloody hell would I go with a group of potentially dangerous people. Oh of course, he must have gone home!"

So I come here, no idea what I'm going to find since no one thought, hey, maybe we should tell that English bloke we're all gettin' along fine now and he doesn't need to worry. But no, not one of you bloomin' gits thought a that."

So, let's hear it. Do you morons have anything to say for yourselves?" Arthur demanded, ending his rant with a pair of green eyes glaring into Gilbert's uncomfortable reds. A tense silence erupted in the room, no one sure what the right answer, if there even was one, would be.

So, someone gave the wrong one.

"Hey." Yong-soo exclaimed from the couch, garnering everyone's attention. "Where're your pants."