A Game of Chess

Chapter 12: Questions

Alfred quickly ran, shoving his foot through the opening before Toris could close it completely. "Toris, what's the matter?" He said, forcing his hand in as he slammed his body into the door.

"Please, don't make this harder than it already is Mr. America!" Toris said, struggling to hold back the minimal strength Alfred was pushing with.

"Just.. let me in!" He yelled, finally forcing the door open and flinging the man back in his burst of strength.

Controlling his emotions had always been a problem to him, many people including Ivan and his family told him that. But even yet, he never lingered on the flaw too much. He felt that his over abundance of sympathy was a good trait. After all, he was supposed to be the hero here right? Even Arthur dismissed his thoughts about it, telling him he was being too childish. He never did get what he meant by saying that, but a part of him remembered that all of the sudden. Was he maybe forcing his emotions onto Toris too much?

The question disappeared as soon as it came, he couldn't contemplate his actions when they were already carried through. He burst through the door, that being the last thought on his mind. Something about this made him feel queasy, like he was going to regret ever chasing him. Maybe he should've listened to that instinct a bit more.

A loud noise sounded across the hotel room. *Bam! And a shout of pain followed after. "Agh!"

Alfred stepped in, looked over to his side, seeing Toris writhe on the floor in pain. His eyes were tightly clenched, the wailing cry of agony coming from his mouth. The betrayed look on Alfred's face faded, a more worried expression taking over.

Guilt came crashing in like a tsunami in his heart. "Holy shit, Toris, I'm so sorry!" He yelled, panicking, rushing to his side. The Lithuanian's brown locks of hair overshadowed his face, probably hiding a horrifying expression. "I didn't mean to push so hard!" His groans of pain continued, breathing heavily.

He patted Toris on his back instinctively, intending to carry the weakened man up before realizing that he placed his hand in something wet. He patted his back once more, placing it in a different area. His hand still felt wet, as if he had dunked into something. Stopping for a moment, he raised his hand back up in horror and felt his heart drop.

No matter how many times he has seen it, whether it be his, his colleagues, or his enemy's, it never was an easy sight to see. Especially when there was an ever growing pool of it in front of you. A crimson red liquid dripped from his shaking hand, coating it in it's shiny bloody lacquer. His heart froze, leaving his mind to go blank as it dripped into his sleeve. He turned back to Toris who was still groaning in pain and shivering on the ground as he realized how cold the room was. Did the air conditioning break?

His mind rewired as that thought passed him, realizing the blood still visibly there on his hand. "You're bleeding!" He yelled, flipping him over to see a large dark spot growing out of his coat. "Why the hell are you bleeding?" His heart beated faster and faster, his fight or flight mechanism turning on. Toris still laid silent in his arms, unable to speak.

A part of him snapped out from his shocked phase and quickly picked him up, moving from the blood stained carpet. Gently, he placed him onto the couch and removed his thin coat and shirt as fast as he could. His eyes grimaced at the sight of more blood, the reminder of his immortality being almost forgotten. There was a pinched feeling in his stomach, like his heart was being twisted over and over again as he took off his shirt, revealing his back. He took a step back, stomach lurching over as if he was going to throw up.

It truly was a gruesome sight, something that made him want to shield his eyes. Although they had healing capabilities far more capable than any normal human being, Toris seemed to have lost that ability. Yet somehow, he still existed, hadn't died from the blood loss either. And from the state of his back, no normal person would've survived. Alfred was wondering why the blood wasn't stopping, and now he knew why.

Covering his back, were large scars, going from one side to another. There was an attempt to stop it, using bandages but they were old, and yellowed like they have been used multiple times. There were fresh ones, going in all different types of directions, cutting deep in his body. They were thick and differently textured, some of them looked like they were caused by a whip and others like it was a sword. The shiny red liquid flowed from the injuries, soaking into the couch.

Alfred held in his stomach, as he watched before him, the injuries slowly trying to repair themselves. It must've been a day since he got these, at best. How did he even get these? Where the hell were the fresh bandages? "Don't roll over, I'm getting a first aid kit." He said, running into the bathroom and opening the cupboards. Toris didn't say a thing. He only stared off into the wall, that greyness in his eyes no longer holding that spirit he had before.

The American walked out of the bathroom, holding a roll of gauze in his hand and some rubbing alcohol in another. "Okay dude, I'll help you with the bandaging. Just need you to sit-"

"That won't be necessary Fedya." Someone said behind him, placing a hand onto his shoulder. Toris's eyes widened as Alfred turned back to see him, unable to see his friend's reaction.

"Ivan?" He said, questioningly as he stepped away in shock. "What do you mean, Toris can barely walk." He attempted to take another step forward, but Ivan had a much stronger hold on him.

"Do not worry, he will be fine." He said, tossing some vial of yellow liquid towards him. "Let's continue our conversation elsewhere, da?" His grip tightened on him, causing Alfred to wince a bit. "Come." He beckoned.

Alfred looked back at Toris, watching him gently grab the vial from the floor. He looked upwards at him and gave him a small smile. "Please, do not keep him waiting, I can bandage myself."

He was very unwilling to leave, seeing the blood still dripping from his back. Leaving him only felt wrong. But Ivan was waiting.

"I'll come back and check up on you." He said unsurely. And just like that, he turned away and walked beside Ivan towards the door.

The two of them walked silently through the Hotel, none of them uttering a word as they walked towards meeting room C4. It was farther from the conference room and also wasn't wiretapped. At least Alfred didn't think it was. Normally he would be talking chipperly to Ivan, exuding his normal behavior around people. But not this time. His expression was solemn, eyes were absent minded, and his mouth was clenched. Though he didn't seem like it, his anger was spilling over, filling his mind with aggravating thoughts. Yet, he still kept a still face. God forbid anyone knowing what he was feeling, all the profanities he was screaming to himself.

He didn't know what yellow vial was, and he wanted to know why Ivan pulled him away. Why Toris looked like that in the first place, why he ran away. Questions were piling over themselves, anger pumping through his veins, Most importantly, he wanted to know why Ivan was so reluctant in letting them talk.

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Well that brings the end of Chapter 12. Sorry if this wasn't what you were anticipating for, it's not what I was either. I was supposed to move on to the present and have some interesting scene, but I just did this so I'm very sorry. But yeah, toris is hurt, and we don't know why. I don't feel this was as good, and it wasn't as long. There might be two more of this cutscene, I apologize. But I swear, the story gets real damn interesting after this. Stay jazzy and much love.