[Fanfic] Out of the Shadows (Chapter 2)
Title: Out of the Shadows
Characters: America, England, Canada, Australia, Russia
Rating: I'd say probably a pg-13, might go higher later on though
Warnings: Overall fanfic, language, violence, creepy and disturbing (hopefully) imagery
Summary: When Alfred is dared to stay in a haunted house overnight he gets more than he bargained for.
When America walked back over with a canvas messenger bag and blue cooler, Russia was bent, leaning down to examine the latch which held the gate closed. "I do not know why," he said, shaking the gate lightly, "but the latch will not move."
"Ooh," said Australia, looking over at America and wiggling his fingers. "It's a sign."
America sighed and sat the cooler on the ground, then stepped over to stand beside Russia. He looked for a moment at the latch and the hinges. "Or rust," he said, gripping the gate with both hands then shaking once, twice, and hitting the latch with a tempered forward blow. The gate let out a 'screak' as it swung open slowly into the yard.
Australia shrugged, "that too." He picked up the box he had sat on the ground and entered through the gate, the other two following behind. They walked along a slim path that led up to the house, through a yard filled with near waist high weeds and briars.
"Maybe I should have brought along a snake bite kit," America said, under his breath. He was eventually going to have to film the outside of the house as well, and he had a feeling that the best shots, as usual, were going to be off the beaten path, both figuratively and literally. A light touch on his shoulder made him jump and nearly run into Russia before he steadied himself and looked back, confronting a low hanging branch. He suddenly wished he had managed to place himself between Australia and Russia, despite how un-heroic it would have looked.
"Okay, so all the branches and stuff add a bit of creepiness," said Australia as they climbed the steps up to the front porch, "but it's still a bit of a let down so far."
"What were you expecting, a thunderstorm on cue?" Russia replied, as he went to open the front door. He frowned as the doorknob turned but the door stuck in its frame. "We are not in a horror movie. Real horror carries more," he applied his weight to the door and pushed, causing the door to pop open, "subtlety." He turned to smile at America and held the door open, "After you."
America attempted to swallow the lump sticking in his throat and smiled back at Russia. "Don't mind if I do," he said as he jauntily stepped in. An old, musty scent hit him as he stepped through the door, making him slow. It took a minute for his eyes to catch up to his nose. The room he had stepped into was mostly empty, lacking furniture completely. What it lacked however, it made up for in dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked as he walked forward slowly. It seemed stable enough, but he took care anyway, keeping his eyes down and his senses sharp for possibly failing floorboards.
"Well, this is more like it!"
America turned around to see Australia grinning as he peaked around the doorway. He nodded and turned back, taking in the room as Australia and Russia came in behind him. Despite the mid afternoon light outside, the room was dark, the fault of heavy curtains which covered the front windows. No doubt he'd find more throughout the rest of house. Opening those would be one of his first tasks. No need to make things worse than they already were. He sat down his cooler and walked over to the window. Gingerly, he pulled the drapes open, waiting to be assaulted by spiders, but instead overcome by a cloud of dust that left him coughing and gasping for air. He waved a hand in front of himself and lifted up his shirt to cover his face, taking a momentary comfort in the sunlight and the scent of Tide covering the smell of old house.
"That better?" he asked once his lungs had recovered, turning around. The room certainly looked more distinct in the daylight. Old rose print wallpaper covered the walls, peeling off in places, and white plaster and small dark forms littered the floor.
"Don't know," said Australia, frowning. "I think it had more ambiance before."
"Before the windows were open you could not even see. How would you know if it had ambiance or not?" Russia countered.
America ignored the argument starting between Russia and Australia, instead staring down at the shapes on the floor for a moment before walking over to the closest one. A dead bird. Or what was left of one at least. America swallowed and looked around, noting what the darkness had been hiding. Every few feet small bodies and skeletons lay, a veritable wildlife mortuary. What seemed odd though, was the way they were laying, with a leg here, a wing there, fur and feathers joining the dried spots and smears of blood darkening the wooden floor. Not as if they had been eaten, but as if something was playi-
"Hey, mate," America jumped a little at the hand on his shoulder and turned around sharply to see Australia. "You still there?"
"Huh?"
"Been asking you where you want your equipment set up," Australia said, his expression a strange mixture of concern and puzzlement.
"Oh, yeah," America laughed and scratched his head, which was tingling slightly. He must have stepped into a spider web and not noticed. "Just set the case over there," he said, pointing to the space beneath the window. "I'll take a walk around in a bit and figure out camera angles and shit."
"Right. Don't tell me you're cracking up already? You've still got," Australia looked down at his watch and smiled, "over twenty-four house to go".
"Just getting in the zone," America said, tapping his head.
Australia looked at him somewhat doubtfully, glancing at the small decaying body America had been staring down at. He began to comment, but was stopped by Russia.
"Ah, good. I would not want to miss hearing your panicked phone calls this evening."
"Sorry to disappoint your sadistic commie ass, but it ain't happening," America replied. He walked over to the cooler and dragged it towards the rest of the boxes and equipment, then knelt down to begin unpacking.
"Ah, but I think it will," said Russia, who leaned up against a wall, his arms crossed. "America is too afraid of his own shadow. I remember your paranoia well."
America stood up, his fists tightening, and turned towards Russia. "The only phone calls I'll be making will be to complain about how boring all of this is."
Russia shook his head, grinning, "I will answer the phone and hear your terrified screams, and I will simply lie back and listen. It will be music."
"In your dreams, Ivan." America glared at Russia, old mannerisms coming back all too quickly. The room had just turned a few degrees cooler. He knew it, could feel it.
"That is a promise, da?" Russia said, as he pushed off from against the wall, approaching the window.
"Okay, that's enough. Cold war's over. Time to get down to business," said Australia desperately, in an attempt to change the topic. "You remember the rules, right?" He asked, locking his eyes onto America in an attempt to avert a crossfire.
America pulled his glare away from Russia and relaxed his stance. "Yeah, twenty four hours on the property. Film a certain room at a certain time. Gotcha."
"And you've got the packets right? The envelopes?" Australia said, rubbing his arm to get rid of the rest of the goosebumps that had popped up. He couldn't remember interactions between America and Russia causing an affect like that. Perhaps he had simply blocked it out.
America nodded. "Yeah somewhere," he said as he knelt down and opened one of the boxes. He dug around for a minute before pulling out a small stack of envelopes and waving them above his head. "Right here."
"Okay, so open them after we leave. Just remember to film yourself reading them."
"Why?" America stood, crossing his arms. The chill in the air seemed to have gotten worse. He was going to have to wear layers that night under his bomber.
"So we know didn't just open them and ignore them."
"Hey," America bristled visibly. "I take my projects seriously."
"Yeah, yeah," Australia said, holding up his hands. "Sorry to insult your artistic integrity."
America smiled and looked satisfied, either not catching or ignoring the sarcasm thrown into Australia's statement. Australia assumed it was the former and continued, "Okay, so check your mobile."
"Huh?"
"God, I had forgotten how dense you can be." Australia rolled his eyes at the blank expression on the other's face. "Make sure you have signal."
"Ah, right, sure," America said distractedly, rubbing his arms. He didn't think it was possible but the temperature seemed to be dropping again. A cold breeze danced across the back of his neck and entered his ears, a harsh frosty whispering. "This place sure isn't sealed up very well."
"What do you mean," Australia asked, a little confused at America's actions. He had warmed considerably.
"The draft." America rolled his shoulders, discomfort climbing at being met with two confused stares. "You guys don't feel it?"
"The temperature is perfectly normal," Russia said. America glanced over at Australia who nodded his head in agreement.
America shrugged and laughed, then stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth from his toes to his heels. "Man, must just be where I'm standing."
They all stood there for a moment, in semi-awkward silence before Australia prompted, "Your mobile?"
"Ah, yeah," America said, reaching down and digging through the messenger bag slung across his shoulder. "Got it," he said, pulling the phone out and flipping it open. "Signal's good".
"What else do you have in there anyway?" Australia asked, as America stuffed the phone back in the bag.
America could feel his face warming up slightly. "Nothing really."
"Ah," Russia smiled. "Did America bring a security blanket?"
America's eyes narrowed. "As I already said," he grumbled and reached back into the bag to pull out a handful of candy bars and a few comic books, "boring night."
"You didn't already have enough to eat in that?" Australia asked, not completely shocked, and tapped the side of the cooler with his foot.
America feigned surprise. "You can never have enough candy."
"Thus the reason you are getting pudgy," said Russia, reaching forward to poke America in the stomach.
"One to talk, big guy," America said, as he dodged Russia's hand. "And I'm not pudgy".
"Well," Australia said, looking down at his watch. "As fascinating as talking about your health problems are Yank, it's getting late. Fairly sure we won't get lost going back, but I want to have enough time that it won't matter."
"Geez, Oz." America grimaced. "Where's your sense of adventure? When you talk like that you almost sound like Arthur. Way too responsible."
"Hey," Australia glowered and punched America in the arm. "You start talking like that and I might have to kill you myself, to hell with letting the ghosts have a turn."
America laughed loudly. "Better, but it's still there. Arthur would have threatened me too."
"No," Australia chuckled. "Arthur would be the one who summoned the ghosts to begin with. But have fun."
"Alright, go already," America smiled, feeling his teeth beginning to clench as the momentary reprieve slipped away. "And same goes to you."
Russia put his arm around Australia's shoulder and squeezed. "Da, America. We will have a good time." He grinned and turned, pulling Australia along with him.
Australia turned his head and mouthed, with a stricken look, 'help'.
America just grinned and waved, enjoying seeing Australia squirm a little. If he was going to have to go through hell, then at least he could take pleasure in the fact that he wasn't alone. No doubt Australia would be getting a solid education in the fine art of vodka consumption.
The moment Russia closed the door, however, his humor disappeared. The world suddenly seemed much quieter, despite the fact that he could still hear the other two outside. He could hear Russia's loud laugh getting further and further away as they walked down the stairs and down the path. He could hear the sound of car doors opening, then closing, and finally the engine starting up and a bit of gravel being shifted as they pulled out. The sound of the car became softer the further it went into the distance, still, suffocating silence replacing it. The cold reached into him, twisting his gut, as he felt the shadows closing in from-
"Well," he said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them, all the while trying to ignore the tremor in his shoulders and voice. "Time to get started."
Author's Note: I really should be giving this time to settle before I post it. I'm sure there's going to be something that I'll be kicking myself for later, but oh well. Hopefully the next chapter will actually get into some more freaky stuff… this is progressing a lot slower than I had actually thought it would. Considering the fact that my chapters are somewhat short though that shouldn't be too surprising.
Characters: America, England, Canada, Australia, Russia
Rating: I'd say probably a pg-13, might go higher later on though
Warnings: Overall fanfic, language, violence, creepy and disturbing (hopefully) imagery
Summary: When Alfred is dared to stay in a haunted house overnight he gets more than he bargained for.
When America walked back over with a canvas messenger bag and blue cooler, Russia was bent, leaning down to examine the latch which held the gate closed. "I do not know why," he said, shaking the gate lightly, "but the latch will not move."
"Ooh," said Australia, looking over at America and wiggling his fingers. "It's a sign."
America sighed and sat the cooler on the ground, then stepped over to stand beside Russia. He looked for a moment at the latch and the hinges. "Or rust," he said, gripping the gate with both hands then shaking once, twice, and hitting the latch with a tempered forward blow. The gate let out a 'screak' as it swung open slowly into the yard.
Australia shrugged, "that too." He picked up the box he had sat on the ground and entered through the gate, the other two following behind. They walked along a slim path that led up to the house, through a yard filled with near waist high weeds and briars.
"Maybe I should have brought along a snake bite kit," America said, under his breath. He was eventually going to have to film the outside of the house as well, and he had a feeling that the best shots, as usual, were going to be off the beaten path, both figuratively and literally. A light touch on his shoulder made him jump and nearly run into Russia before he steadied himself and looked back, confronting a low hanging branch. He suddenly wished he had managed to place himself between Australia and Russia, despite how un-heroic it would have looked.
"Okay, so all the branches and stuff add a bit of creepiness," said Australia as they climbed the steps up to the front porch, "but it's still a bit of a let down so far."
"What were you expecting, a thunderstorm on cue?" Russia replied, as he went to open the front door. He frowned as the doorknob turned but the door stuck in its frame. "We are not in a horror movie. Real horror carries more," he applied his weight to the door and pushed, causing the door to pop open, "subtlety." He turned to smile at America and held the door open, "After you."
America attempted to swallow the lump sticking in his throat and smiled back at Russia. "Don't mind if I do," he said as he jauntily stepped in. An old, musty scent hit him as he stepped through the door, making him slow. It took a minute for his eyes to catch up to his nose. The room he had stepped into was mostly empty, lacking furniture completely. What it lacked however, it made up for in dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked as he walked forward slowly. It seemed stable enough, but he took care anyway, keeping his eyes down and his senses sharp for possibly failing floorboards.
"Well, this is more like it!"
America turned around to see Australia grinning as he peaked around the doorway. He nodded and turned back, taking in the room as Australia and Russia came in behind him. Despite the mid afternoon light outside, the room was dark, the fault of heavy curtains which covered the front windows. No doubt he'd find more throughout the rest of house. Opening those would be one of his first tasks. No need to make things worse than they already were. He sat down his cooler and walked over to the window. Gingerly, he pulled the drapes open, waiting to be assaulted by spiders, but instead overcome by a cloud of dust that left him coughing and gasping for air. He waved a hand in front of himself and lifted up his shirt to cover his face, taking a momentary comfort in the sunlight and the scent of Tide covering the smell of old house.
"That better?" he asked once his lungs had recovered, turning around. The room certainly looked more distinct in the daylight. Old rose print wallpaper covered the walls, peeling off in places, and white plaster and small dark forms littered the floor.
"Don't know," said Australia, frowning. "I think it had more ambiance before."
"Before the windows were open you could not even see. How would you know if it had ambiance or not?" Russia countered.
America ignored the argument starting between Russia and Australia, instead staring down at the shapes on the floor for a moment before walking over to the closest one. A dead bird. Or what was left of one at least. America swallowed and looked around, noting what the darkness had been hiding. Every few feet small bodies and skeletons lay, a veritable wildlife mortuary. What seemed odd though, was the way they were laying, with a leg here, a wing there, fur and feathers joining the dried spots and smears of blood darkening the wooden floor. Not as if they had been eaten, but as if something was playi-
"Hey, mate," America jumped a little at the hand on his shoulder and turned around sharply to see Australia. "You still there?"
"Huh?"
"Been asking you where you want your equipment set up," Australia said, his expression a strange mixture of concern and puzzlement.
"Oh, yeah," America laughed and scratched his head, which was tingling slightly. He must have stepped into a spider web and not noticed. "Just set the case over there," he said, pointing to the space beneath the window. "I'll take a walk around in a bit and figure out camera angles and shit."
"Right. Don't tell me you're cracking up already? You've still got," Australia looked down at his watch and smiled, "over twenty-four house to go".
"Just getting in the zone," America said, tapping his head.
Australia looked at him somewhat doubtfully, glancing at the small decaying body America had been staring down at. He began to comment, but was stopped by Russia.
"Ah, good. I would not want to miss hearing your panicked phone calls this evening."
"Sorry to disappoint your sadistic commie ass, but it ain't happening," America replied. He walked over to the cooler and dragged it towards the rest of the boxes and equipment, then knelt down to begin unpacking.
"Ah, but I think it will," said Russia, who leaned up against a wall, his arms crossed. "America is too afraid of his own shadow. I remember your paranoia well."
America stood up, his fists tightening, and turned towards Russia. "The only phone calls I'll be making will be to complain about how boring all of this is."
Russia shook his head, grinning, "I will answer the phone and hear your terrified screams, and I will simply lie back and listen. It will be music."
"In your dreams, Ivan." America glared at Russia, old mannerisms coming back all too quickly. The room had just turned a few degrees cooler. He knew it, could feel it.
"That is a promise, da?" Russia said, as he pushed off from against the wall, approaching the window.
"Okay, that's enough. Cold war's over. Time to get down to business," said Australia desperately, in an attempt to change the topic. "You remember the rules, right?" He asked, locking his eyes onto America in an attempt to avert a crossfire.
America pulled his glare away from Russia and relaxed his stance. "Yeah, twenty four hours on the property. Film a certain room at a certain time. Gotcha."
"And you've got the packets right? The envelopes?" Australia said, rubbing his arm to get rid of the rest of the goosebumps that had popped up. He couldn't remember interactions between America and Russia causing an affect like that. Perhaps he had simply blocked it out.
America nodded. "Yeah somewhere," he said as he knelt down and opened one of the boxes. He dug around for a minute before pulling out a small stack of envelopes and waving them above his head. "Right here."
"Okay, so open them after we leave. Just remember to film yourself reading them."
"Why?" America stood, crossing his arms. The chill in the air seemed to have gotten worse. He was going to have to wear layers that night under his bomber.
"So we know didn't just open them and ignore them."
"Hey," America bristled visibly. "I take my projects seriously."
"Yeah, yeah," Australia said, holding up his hands. "Sorry to insult your artistic integrity."
America smiled and looked satisfied, either not catching or ignoring the sarcasm thrown into Australia's statement. Australia assumed it was the former and continued, "Okay, so check your mobile."
"Huh?"
"God, I had forgotten how dense you can be." Australia rolled his eyes at the blank expression on the other's face. "Make sure you have signal."
"Ah, right, sure," America said distractedly, rubbing his arms. He didn't think it was possible but the temperature seemed to be dropping again. A cold breeze danced across the back of his neck and entered his ears, a harsh frosty whispering. "This place sure isn't sealed up very well."
"What do you mean," Australia asked, a little confused at America's actions. He had warmed considerably.
"The draft." America rolled his shoulders, discomfort climbing at being met with two confused stares. "You guys don't feel it?"
"The temperature is perfectly normal," Russia said. America glanced over at Australia who nodded his head in agreement.
America shrugged and laughed, then stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth from his toes to his heels. "Man, must just be where I'm standing."
They all stood there for a moment, in semi-awkward silence before Australia prompted, "Your mobile?"
"Ah, yeah," America said, reaching down and digging through the messenger bag slung across his shoulder. "Got it," he said, pulling the phone out and flipping it open. "Signal's good".
"What else do you have in there anyway?" Australia asked, as America stuffed the phone back in the bag.
America could feel his face warming up slightly. "Nothing really."
"Ah," Russia smiled. "Did America bring a security blanket?"
America's eyes narrowed. "As I already said," he grumbled and reached back into the bag to pull out a handful of candy bars and a few comic books, "boring night."
"You didn't already have enough to eat in that?" Australia asked, not completely shocked, and tapped the side of the cooler with his foot.
America feigned surprise. "You can never have enough candy."
"Thus the reason you are getting pudgy," said Russia, reaching forward to poke America in the stomach.
"One to talk, big guy," America said, as he dodged Russia's hand. "And I'm not pudgy".
"Well," Australia said, looking down at his watch. "As fascinating as talking about your health problems are Yank, it's getting late. Fairly sure we won't get lost going back, but I want to have enough time that it won't matter."
"Geez, Oz." America grimaced. "Where's your sense of adventure? When you talk like that you almost sound like Arthur. Way too responsible."
"Hey," Australia glowered and punched America in the arm. "You start talking like that and I might have to kill you myself, to hell with letting the ghosts have a turn."
America laughed loudly. "Better, but it's still there. Arthur would have threatened me too."
"No," Australia chuckled. "Arthur would be the one who summoned the ghosts to begin with. But have fun."
"Alright, go already," America smiled, feeling his teeth beginning to clench as the momentary reprieve slipped away. "And same goes to you."
Russia put his arm around Australia's shoulder and squeezed. "Da, America. We will have a good time." He grinned and turned, pulling Australia along with him.
Australia turned his head and mouthed, with a stricken look, 'help'.
America just grinned and waved, enjoying seeing Australia squirm a little. If he was going to have to go through hell, then at least he could take pleasure in the fact that he wasn't alone. No doubt Australia would be getting a solid education in the fine art of vodka consumption.
The moment Russia closed the door, however, his humor disappeared. The world suddenly seemed much quieter, despite the fact that he could still hear the other two outside. He could hear Russia's loud laugh getting further and further away as they walked down the stairs and down the path. He could hear the sound of car doors opening, then closing, and finally the engine starting up and a bit of gravel being shifted as they pulled out. The sound of the car became softer the further it went into the distance, still, suffocating silence replacing it. The cold reached into him, twisting his gut, as he felt the shadows closing in from-
"Well," he said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them, all the while trying to ignore the tremor in his shoulders and voice. "Time to get started."
Author's Note: I really should be giving this time to settle before I post it. I'm sure there's going to be something that I'll be kicking myself for later, but oh well. Hopefully the next chapter will actually get into some more freaky stuff… this is progressing a lot slower than I had actually thought it would. Considering the fact that my chapters are somewhat short though that shouldn't be too surprising.