Starting another story, since a selective plot bunny the size of a truck landed on me... Apparently, there are aliens being described as 'Nordics' and the idea won't leave me. So, here we go!
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, but I want to!~
Chapter 1: Introductions
The desk in this room was covered with papers and posters hung on the royal, blue walls by thumbtacks. The brown, carpet floor was littered with miscellaneous items from clothes to trash. Sitting diligently at the cluttered desk, was a young man in his earlier twenties with golden, brown hair with a stubborn cowlick in the front and bright blue eyes, gazing through golden framed glasses at the piles of research he was sifting through.
The oak door slammed open and another man stood there with golden hair, blazing emeralds for eyes, and giant eyebrows. He quickly walked through the room and grabbed the man at the desk before pulling him away from his research.
"Arther, what the heck, bro! Let go of me!" shouted the man as he was dragged from the room by the newly named Arther. Arther shook his head and dragged him out of the room and down a hall before the Brit began talking to him.
"Bloody hell, Alfred! I want you to stop your idiotic research and for you to go outside!" Arther's British accent barked at him. Alfred went limp as the Brit dragged him to the door and, literally, threw him out the door and falling down the steps, to land in a heap on the crowded New York sidewalk.
"Dammit, Artie! Could you have done that more gently?" groaned the American, as he stretched from his ungraceful tossing. Arther glared at him, hating the use of his nickname 'Artie'.
"I don't care where you go, lad, but you can't stay here! Leave for awhile, get some energy from your system, and take a break from your stupid alien research!" The Brit slammed the door shut before Alfred could retorted or even object. His research wasn't stupid! If anything, it was brilliant and he was this close to figuring it out.
Alfred shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and headed down the street, looking for something to do. As he walked down the street, he saw a group of people in the alley. He snuck around the corner and hid by a dumpster as the voices got louder.
"Listen, mon ami, because I'm not going to repeat myself. Hand over your argent and we might leave you alone." said a familiar voice, with a heavy French accent.
Alfred peeked around the corner to see the infamous Bad Touch Trio. The French voice came from a tall, long haired blond by the name of Francis Bonnefey. Next to him were two more tall men, one with brown curly hair named Antonio Fernandez Carriedo and an albino named Gilbert Beilschmidt.
"Si, do not keep mis amigos waiting! That would be very impolite." stated the Spaniard as the Prussian went into a fit of laughter, and grabbed their victim by collar. Alfred couldn't see the victim's face very well but he did see his clothes, which was a pair of dark blue pants and a black shirt that were both skin tight.
"Hey, dummkopf! Are you deaf or something!? Give use your money or the awesome me will make you cower at my awesomeness! Keseseses!" shouted the albino man, he friends laughing beside him. Alfred shook his head and jumped out from behind the dumpster, to confront the trio.
"Hey! Leave that guy alone or else!" Alfred shouted, distracting the trio from the victim, which Alfred could see was an emotionless young man with a cross pin holding his hair back. The trio glared at the wannabe hero, before breaking out with massive grins.
"Well, well, well! If it isn't the alien fanatic! Seen any E.T.s, pal?" stated Gilbert before they began laughing, the victim giving Alfred a curious look. The Bad Touch Trio walked pass Alfred, Francis pushing him into the wall as he walked pass.
"You believe in aliens?" asked the emotionless man, giving Alfred all of his attention. Alfred nodded at the man's question, giving the Trio's victim his attention as well. The man offered his hand to Alfred, which he quickly high-fives. The man just gave him a weird look before tilting his head like a confused puppy.
"Is it customary to smack peoples hands when greeting them?" asked the man with the tilt to his head. This time Alfred gave him a weird look. Alfred turned and walked out of the alley and the man followed him. Alfred began to get creeped out as he stopped a block away from his home, seeing the guy was still there. He even stopped when Alfred stopped!
"Hey, you don't have to follow me. Go on home or something, will ya?" he told the guy and continued home, before noticing he was still being followed. He stopped in front of his house and the man stopped too. Okay. This is beyond creepy... What am I going to do?! He could be some scary spirit sent to haunt me! AAAAHHHHH!
"BEGONE, SPIRIT!" shouted Alfred, throwing a random bible at the man before running inside, up into his room, and hid under the covers of his queen-sized bed. Alfred got drowsy the more he worked himself up, and quickly fell asleep.
Unfortunately, he left his window open, and a man with a cross in his hair, dark blue pants and a black shirt, that was skin tight, climbed through. The man gave the sleeping American a look before opening up his closet and hiding inside. Hidden in the darkness, the man's eyes glowed dark blue, the color of his pants, and opened up the bible Alfred threw at him. Might as well wait for him to wake up. I need to talk to him later. He could help me.
Read and review, if you would, please!~