Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters.
Summary:
Real life… You never truly get what you want, not even I succeeded in getting what I wanted. What I have is a shadow of the man I sought after, only the shell; the core damaged and lost which I am to blame. Rusame AU
Status: Complete.
Genres: Drama, Romance, Mystery, Suspense, Crime.
Warning: See the Genre's list. There will be a couple scandals or two in here. Also, Angst, Betrayal, Mystery, all that jazz in Crime-Romance movies. Also, since this is an M-rated fic, there will be heavy scenes not intended for a general audience. With language and explicit scenes at some parts, this is not a light story For those who are faint to the heart, or could/does not stomach mature themes, this is not for you. You are warned.
A/N: This is my first time doing a setting in a bar. With the known impressions that surround bars, I believe that this will be a nice change of scenery compared to earlier works. You can just know that there will be all sorts of drama and chaos in a bar- a perfect landscape for a uneasy story.
Also, this is my first story starring Alfred as a lead character. In the other works, he has been a dueteragonist, a side character, or even an antagonist. Because of this being my first story with him, I hope that I'll be able to execute his character well.
Enjoy!
Chapter 1
Late in the night, the city choked by the heavy haze of heat. In the night sky, the moon engulfed by blackened clouds, it was a night of bad omens; the kind of night where nothing good happens. The superstitious believers are huddled in the sanctuary of their homes, holding their family close as darkness surrounds the city.
Shrouded in the hub of the underground booze joints a cigarette burn; the silence deafening. The unsullied spiced tobacco crackles as smoke swirls with an inhale, minuscule flakes of ash flutters down. A drawn out exhale catches the attention of the shadowy figures occupying the dimly lit bar. Curious eyes veiled by fedoras take a gander, watching the two men exchange leveled looks; nothing of interest, they, once again, lose themselves within their drink, swallowing down the day, welcoming the alcohol induced liberation.
The cigarette flickers, the burning ash brightens as the smoker takes another long drag, lips puckered as smoke bellows out, polluting the dank air. A brow rose in challenge.
"Murder you say?" The smoker pulls another drag from the cigarette, accompanied it with a sharp exhale. Lips turned up, as the body leans back; casting the smoking dark featured man deeper in shadows. His eyes traveled his inquisitor's hearty frame, searching.
"Yes, murder. And you are the last documented person to see him alive, so, Alfred; care to tell your side of the story?"
Alfred scoffs, sitting himself up, he pulls one more deep inhale of the poisonous smoke, sucking it in deep, before blowing it out and quickly outing the burning cancerous stick. "If I'm a suspect, shouldn't we be doing this in a more private setting…?" Alfred paused, flashing a grin. "What should I call you? Copper, Dick, or Gumshoe?" He mocks, leaning in, crossing his arms on the table, a hand idly toying with a glass of straight gin. "What do you prefer?" He inquired fingering the wet rim of his tumbler, making it sing.
"I prefer the correct term, Detective."
Alfred smirked. "Huh, the unimaginative sorts are we. I bet you do everything by the book. You're hard boiled aren't you?" He derides.
"I'm not here for entertainment, Alfred. I'm looking for some answers," The detective shot back, his patience wearing thin. He snagged a hold of Alfred's white collar, pulling him in with a snarl. His eyes burrowing into Alfred's dark honey colored iris's, witness the cockiness fade into annoyance, making those honey eyes darken. "And I hear talk that you got some answers to my questions, understand."
Alfred pulled away, scoffing off the detective's bark as he unruffled his shirt. He struck a match the flame lit his high cheekbones, casting his dark eyes in shadows; another cigarette burns. "When I left he was breathing fine."
"I want details Alfred; why, where, how, and when." The detective asked, pulling a small crisp note pad from his coat.
Alfred raised a playful dark wingtip brow. "All in that exact order?"
"Don't get smart with me; I'm not in the mood." The lawman snapped.
Alfred shrugged, "I guess this means you won't be buying me a strong drink of hooch." Alfred chuckled at the leveled glare he received from the frowning detective. He couldn't help but to gaze at the copper's strong jaw and cleft chin, couldn't help smiling seeing those pale lips scowl from irritation. "Very well, I'll tell you everything you want to know," Alfred leaned over the table, the detective meeting him halfway. "I got a room up top-"
The man cut Alfred off. "Why the privacy, Alfred, If you ain't got nothing to hide?"
Alfred's eyelids dropped. "Let's just say, it's a manner of secretive sensitivity."
The detective's thin upper lip twitched as his thick brows furrowed in slight confusion. Alfred chuckled with a quirk his lip, flashing a few white teeth. "Surprised," His snigger grew. "I'm quite a smart feller, shocking, I know." Alfred pushed himself away from the table, finishing his gin with a gulp, leaving the cigarette to burn away in the ashtray.
No one paid mind to them, not bothering to lift their heads as they stood away from the old worn down table and mismatched chairs. Alfred gave the detective another look back over his shoulder the detective was a big man, the kind you see in a boxing match; intimidating, a kind of man you would pay to have as muscle. He nodded to the back, to a door nearly hidden by the sheer gloominess of the patrons obstructing the way.
Alfred moved forward, virtually glided through the muck of depression, his stride practiced, the detective couldn't help admiring the self-confidence of his stride; the only thing that gave any elation to this rundown bar. Their trek up the darkened stairway was no different, Alfred's aura once again was the only joy found here, the steps dirtied and worn groaning from the weight of his feet. The dim lights flickered, preparing itself for the end, its faint yellow bulb generated bulky stirring shadows; your typical rundown two story building. The walls were poorly painted, which he assumed at one point was a sunny yellow now more of a faded rusted orange, the aged lead paint chipping away. The flower printed wallpaper peeling from its corners, curving in on itself; as if trying to run away from the dank building; a feeling he was beginning to sympathize and identify with. The detective shuddered at the squander of the place, cringing at the idea of the state of Alfred's room.
Alfred threw a quick glance back to the man trailing him, "My stop." Alfred fished the key from his pocket; unlocking the door and tossing it wide open allowing the tall, robust man behind him in.
The detective grinned, "I insist that the owner lead the way."
Alfred cocked a brow. "Hm, a man who won't turn his back on another."
"Something I've learned the hard way." The detective explained.
Alfred smirked. "I bet, your line of work don't seem to cater to many friends." Alfred led the way in, sliding off his jacket and fedora throwing them onto the old simple creaky painted chair by the bed. He swept his fingers through his short gold hair, slicking it back, keeping it from his eyes.
The man of the law step in closing and locking the door, he watched, to some degree of amusement, as Alfred stiffen to the sound of a click. "I guess in your line of work, Alfred, you're always expecting the worse, not many friends." He took in the room; taking inventory of everything, scoffing slightly to himself at the decor, reminding him more of a sleazily room in a brothel, red, lots of red splashed everywhere from pillows to curtains, and yet still quite Spartan.
Alfred shrugged off the white dress shirt leaving his off-white colored undershirt and the plain black straps of his suspenders holding up his black trousers. He nodded to a chair in the corner. "Take a seat, detective." Alfred moved over to the record player perched on the nightstand, taking a quick glance over the records piled on the floor, he chose something that tickled his fancy.
"I am not here for a party, Alfred." He took his seat, observing Alfred with a critical eye, finally able to catalog the man, no longer cased in dark shadows. Alfred stood a good 5'10 foot, a few good inches shorter than himself, muscled but not as barreled shaped around the chest like him. Alfred had quite a face, almost streamline, high cheeks, strong jaw, pale skin; must be from staying inside more; not a sunbather the detective thought. It was when he took in those lips, thicker than an ordinary man's lips ought to be; Alfred glanced his way, his eyes almost flirty. The detective averted his eyes to stare out the window, avoiding those suggestive eyes.
The detective observed the steam pour from under the streets, making the air humid and stifled. Three men staggered the along the sidewalk, arms slung around shoulders to maintain balance as they laughed merrily, drunk; unaffected by the heat. The detective could see the grand view of the glittering grey city; hear the potent sounds of her cradled children nestled in her concrete arms.
"I don't like people listening in, nor, do I enjoy the sounds of the gals in the other rooms knocking boots with their johns. I don't suppose you want to hear it?" Alfred explained, the cocky grin catching the detective's attention.
"No. I suppose not." He'd answered, casting one more glance to the window, watched the three men climb into the brightly colored cab; the street now barren.
"Good." Alfred placed the needle on a flat black disc. "I hope you don't have a problem with the colored canary Bessie Smith." Alfred smiled to himself. "Or is Artie Shaw more of your platter?" Alfred turned and spread his arms as one would do to show off an advertisement banner, "Let me guess, Artie Shaw, Nightmare. Make you feel plenty rugged, eh, dicky." Alfred closed his eyes, chuckling at the glare he knew was directed his way. "Personally, I enjoy-"
The detective cut Alfred off with a growl of annoyance. "Enough, Alfred, you wanted your privacy, you've got it. Now answer my questions."
Alfred shrugged and replied airily with a wave of indifference. "Ask away."
The detective sat straighter, notepad in hand. "How do you know the victim? What was your relationship with Mr. Ivan Braginski?"
Alfred looked out the window, "Well, at first meeting we were hardly friends, until we warmed up to each other."
"So you guys didn't like one another at first. Why, what happened? And I want all the details, Alfred, do not omit anything."
Alfred rested his chin on a fist. He smiled broadly as a particular song by his lovely canary played. "It was the fall of 1914, on the south side of town. Eight years ago, that's when I first met the man, and as I said, we didn't get along. I was operating a small clip joint business, minor stuff, some hooch and jazz, a little bit of gambling; just something to make life easy, and Ivan, well he was muscling into my business. We feuded, trying to buy up property, muscle businesses for protection payments, we did it all. But no matter how hard I tired, it always seemed Ivan was there first, and before I knew it, he owned almost the whole damn district." Alfred smiled, fishing out a cigarette. "I was going to put a hit out on the bastard."
"You were going to have him killed." The detective's brow rose.
"Yes, I was planning to have him killed, of spring the same year, but, as I said. It seemed he was always ahead of me. Ivan and five of his men came knocking down my office door." Alfred sighed and took a haul of his cigarette. "He should have killed me that day, and we were rival businessmen, yet, he held out his hand," Alfred gently laughed to himself. "I swore, at that moment, I thought I was going to go sleeping with the fishes, but no, not Ivan. He let me keep my life, and ran me out of the business, taking over my joint and property. I hated the fuck for some time after that, left only with a few Lincolns in my pocket and the clothes on my back, pulling petty cons to survive."
"It doesn't sound like to me you were friends, more like you got reasons to murder."
Alfred sighed. "Indeed, but you didn't let me finish. It's rude to cut in, you know." Alfred flashed a smirk. "It was a few years later I saw him again, summer of 29', Bessie was in town, I'll never forget it, she was singing 'Nobody knows you when you're down and out', I was at the bar enjoying a damn good scotch when I seen him again. Now, on first sight, he made my booze taste bitter…"
-0-
Alfred sat at the bar, servers milling about behind him, weaving through the silk covered tables' and flutes of bubbly champagne on silver platters. The marvelous sound of Bessie filled the room and hushed the crowd, it was what she done best, silence the chatter of the bars inhabitants by a single tune from those lush lips and powerful lungs. He tapped his foot against the polished wood, lightly humming in his tumbler, following her verses.
The Venue catered to the rich, famous, politicians, and high society types, the majority, however, were the elitist of business; the families. It was bright and screamed money; the patrons made the place dazzle with high priced suites and expensive jewelry. The booze was full of flavor, spiced and aged just right. It wasn't the kind of place men would bring their mistresses, it was the kind of place they brought their trophy wives, make connections, and show off wealth. It was the kind of place poor men dream of… The kind of poor he is these days.
He just got lucky. Johnny Boy owed him a favor for saving his ass from certain death at the train station years ago. A few muscle men almost tossed John's lanky butt on the tracks, after plugging him with a few lead holes of course; they would've too if he didn't jump in. That boy was lucky he wanted those very men dead. It added a favor in his bank from Johnny Boy, and it had been cashed in today. Once he discovered Johnny worked within the fine establishment. The boy's favor was repaid by an unlocked back door, turned backs and blind eyes.
He came looking icy, lifting a tux from an old fat cat uptown was too easy, all one had to do was pose as a bag boy outside of the ritzy shops. Alfred smiled, tugging the labels of his newly required suit, he stood by that door for a good portion of the afternoon waiting for a man roughly his size to come out, offered his services. The moment that wrapped box touched his hand he took off running as if the devil himself was chasing him.
Now here he sat with expensive whiskey in hand, Bessie filling his ear, and a damn nice coat around his shoulders, all in all, it was a great day.
"She's singing your tune, Alfred." Ivan leaned against the bar wearing his white form fitting suit, it shined against the Mahogany of the bar, and his deep green vest made his emerald eyes pop. Complete contrast to Alfred's slightly loose black and navy blue, which had done nothing special for him next to Ivan's grandeur, it was like placing a dull daisy next to an exotic lotus.
A glass was held loosely by Ivan's fingertips as his attention was solely on Alfred. Ivan's larger body made his presence hard to ignore. Alfred could feel Ivan's emerald eyes on him, almost piercing him with their intensity.
Alfred growled in his own glass, eyes like a predator. His great day was taking a sharp vinegary turn. "Come to rub it in?"
Ivan shrugged a broad shoulder, his elbow resting on the bar top, causing the button up strain against his wide, powerful chest. "Not really. I came for the music; I didn't expect you to be here." Ivan gave Alfred a slow look over. "Isn't this swanky place out of your price range?"
If looks could kill, Ivan would be incinerated to smoldering ashes, all 6 feet of him. "That is none of your concern."
"Working the trade?" Ivan inquired with a quirk of a brow.
Alfred cheeks flushed a reddish hue by the audacity of Ivan's statement. "How dare you, I am no protsy, taking johns for money!" Alfred hissed under his breath turning to face the man, his fist clenched, ready to punch Ivan right in his button nose.
Ivan chuckled light heartily. "Take it easy, it was only a joke."
Alfred snarled his fist tightened, his nails leaving indents in his palms. "Well, sorry if I don't find being accused of being a prostitute humorous."
Ivan held his right hand up in surrender. "Forgive me, I was trying to lighten the mood with a joke." Ivan looked Alfred over once again, taking on a more serious approach. "But really Alfred, what are you doing for work now?"
Alfred screwed up his lips, averting his attention to the stage, watching the band sway as they played, still dwarfed by Bessie's soul filled voice. "Nothing." He whispered.
Ivan almost didn't catch the answer from his former rival, if he hadn't strained his hearing. He licked his lips, as he looked over Alfred for the third time. "If you're interested I got something of an opening, and I think you would be a good fit for the job."
Alfred growled, slamming his drink down. "I am no charity case." He turned fully on Ivan, standing toe to toe, stretching up to get as much height as possible. "You can take it and shove it, Ivan; I got better things to do."
Ivan sighed, catching Alfred's upper arm in a tight grasp as he tried to stomp away. "Like what? Go back to your cold shoebox with an empty stomach and sleep on a hard floor." Alfred's honeyed eyes flashed with fury, clashing with Ivan's bright emeralds. Ivan pulled him in closer, almost whispering in Alfred's ear. "I'm offering you some damn good greenery, and a warm bed to lay your head."
Alfred mulled over it for a few minutes his tongue clicking the roof his of mouth; until the need for good pay outweighed the idea of working for his formal rival. He swallowed his pride. "Where do you want me to be?"
Ivan's smile reached his eyes. "Down by the docks, 11 tomorrow night."
"I'll be there." Alfred shrugged off Ivan's large hand, still feeling the pressure and warmth of it as he made his way out of the jazz club.
Ivan grinned throwing a look over his shoulder, he called out to the hastily retreating man. "Don't forget a coat, gets cold down there."
-0-