We're All Dead

"Berwald has given me the orders, Lukas; he's had enough of Matthias meddling in our affairs, and he's reached his limit this time. I'm to carry out the execution in twenty minutes."

Lukas couldn't help it as he stared at Tino, who stood at the door of the Norwegian's cell. The Finn's face, meanwhile, was a mask: cold, void, dead. Dead violet eyes and a straight mouth with a flat voice looked down on Lukas from a set of marionetted shoulders. All the previous life in the Finnish sniper's being had been drained, and all the joy spent. Tino's face was dead.

In a way, they were all dead. The war had killed them, them and their very souls.

Well, Emil really was dead and gone, but that time had passed; funny how numb to his brother's passing Lukas felt after a couple years of apocalypse and catastrophe. Funny how numb in general he felt these days.

But, not now.

"Y-You're joking, Tino..." Lukas choked out, crawling from his spot on the chalk-dusted floor by the cracked wall. He grasped the bars of the cell and struggled to his feet, ignoring the sharp jab of old pain in his left calf, rising to the sniper's level. Lukas leveled Tino with his hollow eyes, emotions breaking to the surface for the first time since...he couldn't remember when. Before Emil, probably. "Tell me you're joking, Tino..." he croaked.

Dead violet eyes stared right back into the starved and tortured orbs of the man in the cell. "I'm sorry, Lukas. Orders are orders," came the flat answer from the emotionless mask. God, what did the Finn's face look like before the world turned to shit? He couldn't remember.

"T-Tino, please... H-He can't..." Grasping fingers reached through the bars and swiped at Tino, as if trying to pull better answers from him. The sniper slapped the Norwegian's hand away. Horrified eyes were met with the eyes of the dead.

"That is all I have to say, Lukas. Good day." With that, the sniper turned flatly on his heels and marched away, stiff as a board in his worn combat fatigues.

The man in the cell watched his former friend disappear up the nearby stairs, a thin hand still outstretched while the other clung to the cell bars for sweet support. Goddamn his leg. Soon, the prisoner let go, sinking roughly to his knees, his hands falling to rest on the ragged pants hanging off his thin frame. Lukas could only stare with his hungry eyes, hungry for a better truth, for the past, for Matthias. He raked his fingers through his lank blond hair, displacing the clip that held his bangs to the side. The sharp ping of the silver piece hitting the ground matched the short, frantic breaths forcing their way from Lukas's body.

No, no, no, he can't... No, he's all I have left... Tino, you can't, please... I can't...

"Tino, please!! PLEASE!!" Lukas wailed with his water-parched voice as he heard the door slam at the top of the stairs. "TINO, YOU CAN'T TAKE HIM, HE'S ALL I HAVE LEFT!! YOU CAN'T!! TINO!! BERWALD, PLEASE, YOU CAN'T!! MATTHIAS!!"

The Norwegian's voice broke on that last name. A single tear ran down his face as he stared into the darkness with wide hungry eyes. "Matthias..." he whispered to no one. "M-Matthias, please..."

Another tear ran down his face. His body fell sideways, slumping into the fetal position on the cold dusty floor. Twitching and shaking, Lukas didn't stop the soft and broken sobs that escaped his starved body, the water from his eyes flowing in earnest now.

I can't...

"Wow, you're actually giving up. You really have changed, Bror."

"S-Shut up, E-Emil... Y-You're not here..."