Tautų miršta sunkiai per Kalėdas

(by Sailor Taichichi Vegeta)

I decided to explore this thing called a 'kinkmeme' and kinda got sucked in, and was only too happy to grant somebody's wish for the Trembling Trio to save everybody, action-movie style. I'd been hoping to post the whole thing on the 25th, but have been doing the fight scenes (and many other parts) way slower than I thought I'd be able to, so I missed Eastern Orthodox Christmas too… But you'll have it all eventually, and I hope you enjoy it.

(I'd love to post the link, but this site keeps eating it. If you really want it please ask.)

Disclaimer

Hey, hey, Mama, more hot cider!

Hey, hey, Papa, hey, hey, Papa!

I can't forget the taste of that grilled cheese-and-bacon sandwich that nobody wanted to share with me!

Draw a circle, that's the Earth,

Draw a circle, that's the Earth,

Draw a circle, that's the Earth,

I'm not Himaruya and therefore own nothing!

Part 1

"Please let me go! I swear I'll cooperate!" The fair-haired youth struggled against the rope, but it was too strong and he was helpless as they dragged him through the building.

"It's too late for that, my old friend," replied his captor, looking straight ahead as he spoke. The ungrateful boy was beneath him and didn't deserve his mercy or his full attention. Soon he, his bodyguards and his 'package' reached the roof, the late-December wind whipping their hair and his scarf. When the young man looked down at the ground far below he began a new spate of begging, which was ignored.

"Don't you see? I've given you so many chances, and you've only disappointed me," came the reply. His smile was cheerful, almost innocent-looking as he gazed out over the city. "Maybe you'll be reincarnated as someone who can be a loyal friend to me. Would you like that?"

"No! Please!"

Strong hands sent him flying.

"That is what many consider to be the fate of the last man to cross arms dealer Oleg Stepanovich Petrov," said the TV hostess' voice. On the screen was a photograph of a stern, bearded man with a scar across one grey eye. "Because there were no more witnesses who could prove his guilt, he has been at large since 1995."

"Turn it off, Estonia," pouted Latvia as he stared stubbornly into his coffee.

"No, I want to watch this." The bespectacled nation turned up the volume and took another sip from his own cup. "I can't believe nobody else is down here."

"Well, it still is sort of early. Everyone else is either asleep in their rooms or already headed off to business meetings."

"I'd rather be up too early than too late." To prove his point, Estonia finished his second pastry.

"How many more of those things are you going to eat?" asked Latvia, doing his best to ignore the gruesome re-enactments on the TV.

"Why are you worrying? They're free."

"It's not that. Shouldn't we be getting ready to leave? The others are probably up too."

"No, Hungary emailed last night to say she'd arrived very late because of work and has no intention of waking up before nine. Poland's been delayed by bad weather but hopes to get here soon." After they'd moved out of the Soviet Union house, the Eastern European nations had all had challenges to confront and changes to make, but despite the politics most of them agreed to come together once a year for a short period of relaxation. It was their own private 'I-survived-being-one-with-Russia' support group, with booze flowing in place of tears. Recently Ukraine had expressed an interest in the proceedings, so as a friendly overture they decided to hold this year's meeting in her house. As an added bonus, it was almost Christmas and they'd been planning a little holiday party.

"Wait, did you say you can get Internet?" Lithuania approached the two with his own breakfast in hand. "My laptop hasn't cooperated with me since I got here. How'd you do it?"

Estonia just smiled and finished his coffee.

"He's not very responsive this morning," muttered Latvia. "I asked him to turn off this crap and he wouldn't…"

"Latvia, did you spike your coffee?"

"Eh?"

"Did you spike your coffee?"

"It's perfectly good on its own! Who does that so early in the morning?"

"So you didn't?"

"I didn't say that."

"So you did."

"…"

"…"

"…well, what if I did? I mean, look at that! A fish scaler! Who does that? Do you want to look at that while you eat?"

"Just look at something else instead."

"Yeah, like that." Estonia nodded at the complex across the street, visible from where the three were sitting. Their hotel was by no means shabby, but the one over there was both high-class and high-tech, elegant and futuristic. It supposedly had a gym, an enormous pool, a modest-sized concert hall, a five-star restaurant, and its own mall. The museum that just happened to be next door was connected to the super-hotel by an all-glass walkway. Some offices were also there, separated from the hotel and museum by fountains (currently shut off due to the weather) and flowerbeds (currently occupied by hardy shrubs due to the weather). "I wish we could stay there. Stupid global economy."

Lithuania agreed. "I know, but as you so eloquently put it, things aren't as good as they could be, so it wouldn't be too considerate to our citizens."

"Well, I bet it's free to look," said Latvia, tired of poking at cold remains that reminded him just a little of unlucky informant viscera. He got up and started toward the elevators, intending to get his coat, scarf and hat from his room before heading out.

"Hey, I'm done eating. I want to come too." Estonia took one more bite of baked good and followed his friend.

"And so it's up to me to clear all three of our places?" Lithuania muttered when they'd left. "How considerate of them…" At least Latvia had been right –the coffee was quite good.

The pair could hear carols and see each breath crystallizing as they jogged across the street. A few early risers were walking in the square.

"This is really, really nice," said Latvia, gazing up at the Lavrinenko Hotel.

Estonia nodded. "I read that the same man runs all of these buildings and is trying to expand further. Our hotel is owned by his company too."

"Eh? Then why don't we have a five-star restaurant?"

"Ours is one of his older ones. He wanted to remodel it, but there was some sort of safety issue that came up, so he ended up just building a new hotel."

The lobby would have been beautiful at any time of the year, but with assorted ornaments and a ten-foot tree, it drew an appreciative gasp from the two nations. There was a fountain in here too, sending up jewel-toned jets of water courtesy of lights in its base. Just visible was the entrance to the dining room, and faint but tantalizing scents wafted towards them. Latvia was somehow reminded of the competition between America and Russia, except the rivalry was over hospitality, not weapons, and instead of two worthy opponents facing off it was more like a hulking footballer stomping on a wheelchair-bound octogenarian. Maybe he ought to listen to Lithuania and stop spiking his coffee after all.

"Good morning, gentlemen," said a young woman at the front desk. "Are you here for the Bogumil meeting or the Maczuilis meeting?"

"Er, neither."

"Actually, we're staying across the street, but we were curious and wanted to have a look around. You don't mind, do you?"

The receptionist managed a smile. "I don't care. Everybody else is busy. Go on, explore. They won't let you into some places without a key, though."

'Some places' proved to be the computer room, concert hall (currently not in use), the gym and its adjoining pool (not quite as large as Latvia'd thought, but still impressive). Even the bouncer outside the dining room asked them for keycards.

"I'm not really that surprised," said Estonia as they shuffled away. "With a place this special, do you think they'd let just any riffraff wander around?"

"Hey, I'm not riffraff," pouted Latvia.

"I didn't mean you…"

"Back so soon?" chuckled the receptionist.

"They wouldn't let us into some places," deadpanned Estonia.

"Please don't be angry! It's the hotel's policy to promote the safety of our customers." She looked around, and lowered her voice. "Come here."

Hesitantly the two nations approached the desk, and she pressed something into Latvia's hand. "They've just kept you out of most of the hotel, so don't use it right away. Wait a few hours for the shift change and come back." His eyes went wide and she shushed him before he could give them away. "I like you two. Think of this as my good deed for Christmas. Just make sure you return it before you leave, okay?"

Estonia backed away from the counter and said aloud, "If that's the way it is, I guess it can't be helped. Thank you for your time."

"Thank you for understanding, sir," said the receptionist. "You can still access our shopping center. Why not give it a try?" She winked; Estonia winked back.

Of course the stores still had yet to open; Estonia wound up stopping in the gift shop near the mall's entrance to get a scarf he liked for his pal Finland. (He'd been busy with typical country problems and hadn't paid much attention to Christmas other than the gathering with his fellow nations.) Latvia purchased more coffee from a nearby vending machine.

"You like reindeer?" asked a young man who'd been in line behind them. He wore glasses like Estonia's, but his hair was black and his face suggested he could've been one of Germany's or maybe Switzerland's children.

"Oh, no, this is for my friend."

"Rabbits are better." The German nodded at his bunny-emblazoned wristband, magic rabbit keychain, and numerous pins affixed to the backpack he wore. "Unless you want to be dumped."

"Wha –It's not like that! I said we're friends!"

"Have fun lying to yourself," he snorted through his mouthful of candy, and walked off.

"What a jerk," said Latvia. "You ready to go back to our hotel?"

"Sure. Let's go out that way. It's closest to the hotel, and I want to look at the fountains back there."

When they went out they realized most of the 'fountains' were really sculptures. Some were inspired by classical Greco-Roman architecture, while others wouldn't have looked out of place on the set of a sci-fi movie. The only real fountain, placed in the center of the area, was carved from black and white marble to look like a mountain forest, the stony summit reaching thirty feet above an empty pool surrounded by miniature animal sculptures. Latvia cooed and went to stroke one. Estonia stopped him.

"They've probably got thousands of cameras around here," he said.

"They must have a thousand cameras around here," muttered the German kid from his table in the food court. He petted the small rabbit bobblehead that sat on his open laptop and continued, "I still can't believe they wanted me to get the offices too..." A familiar five-note sequence sounded from his pocket, and he answered the phone before the tune could continue. "iJa/i?"

"Have you finished, Hinkel?" asked the man on the other end.

"No, I haven't. There are far too many cameras around here. I've gotten the ones in the hotel and offices the way you wanted, but if you want that last place completely blind it'll take more time and more money."

"How much more?"

"Ten thousand USD."

A quiet sigh. "Fine."