AUTHOR'S WARNING:

The beginning of this chapter borders on organized crack—but don't worry, the plot comes into play when the whole group isn't together.

He was the worst villain of all time.

"God damn—if you don't take this fucking seriously I'm going to do my fucking research and get you replaced," Alfred yelled, doing something stupid with his hand to express his exasperation.

His friends looked at him like he was a buffoon. Because he was.

"Uhm, Al," Mathew muttered, looking around. The boy's long locks reached his shoulders, brushing against his backpack, flirting with the zipper that encased the team's plans. "I know that you're, like, really into this super hero thing…but you might also look into getting some more sleep."

Alfred groaned, sliding his hand down his face. "You're right, Matt," he caved. No way was he going to be able to explain the sexy voice that graced his every waking hour. "Whoa-oh-ho!" He laughed. Stupid laugh. "Sexy? I would say posh pedophile at best. What kind of accent even is that? And let me guess—handle bar mustache?"

"Ve," the coward boy from down the street—who had only gotten into the super hero club since his brother was dating one of the founding members—giggle nervously. "You've been talking to yourself a lot lately. Maybe you should get some sleep? We can meet tomorrow!" The boy's oddly feminine face lit up. "We could go take a nap or get a snack or something! I mean, I have some homework that I have to do if anyone could help? Stats."

Hah. As if Alfred could manage such mental maths.

Ludwig, the Nazi from down the street—

"Hey! Be nice!"

-offered his assistance with stoic features. He seemed oddly bulky for a nineteen-year-old. No doubt he would kick Alfred's ass in a fight.

Balling his fist and clenching his teeth into an aggressive smile, Alfred continued. "Haha, I'm just pulling your guys' chain," he lied. "I read somewhere that the best way to start a meeting is to get everyone's attention."

"You really should try a more orthodox way," the guy covered in warts whose voice made him sound like a toad said. He was probably wearing three cakes of makeup and was, without doubt, a chain smoker. And he was a jerk, too. No redemption. Alfred's head twitched.

"Yes, sorry about that, Francis."

"So," Mathew pitched, "can we get started?"

Alfred nodded. Mathew quickly tore off his backpack and started laying the plans down in the middle of the floor. They had found an old abandoned shack just outside of town a little while back and had decided to make it their new 'base.' They met every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday no matter what—even if that meant postponing the meeting until three a.m. because someone had to study or stay at work late. It really had been easier when they were all in high school. Now the only one with that luxury was Kiku.

"Okay," Alfred announced, taking initiative despite no one liking him. "As we all know, there has been a recent flux of break-ins down town. I can't say for certain what kind of people are doing it, but whoever they are they're either paying off the police or keeping them at bay some other way." He said, describing a plot to a movie he had watched.

"How do you know that?" Kiku asked, black brows furrowing.

"I hacked into my dad's shit." His dad was a cop. A bad one. "There hasn't been a single report despite there being a total of seventeen known break-ins. They also refuse to bring in any new cops for the time being."

Lovino, an intimidating red head, crossed his arms and huffed. "You know you're admitting to you own father being corrupt, right?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Orders are orders. His hands are tied!"

"Whatever."

"So what do you propose?" Ludwig asked, leaning forward a bit. "It looks like they're attacking only one central area. Do you think that they're looking for something specific?"

"Yeah, I do."

Ludwig hummed with thought, studying the map with a hard stare. "The break-ins have been happening from around midnight to three in the morning," he mumbled to himself. "If they really are paying off the police in some way, this would be the best time for everyone. In-between shift offers liability for the officers."

Alfred nodded. "They've already covered a good deal of ground. They may be looking to expand. However," he jabbed at the map, his thumb landing between the intricate highlights and notes Mathew had provided, "they still have this area to cover. Three locations left. I don't think that they'll be expanding before they cover them."

"So we split up?" Feliciano pitched in.

Mathew laughed timidly. "That never works in movies."

"I don't know," frog-face offered. "There's enough of us that covering three locations could work."

"Or," Antonio, leaning against a bitch-faced Lovino offered, holding his hand up as if he were in primary school, "we decide which location is most likely to be attacked. No doubt the shop keepers have caught on to what has been happening. We can talk to them."

"One of these isn't a shop, though; it's a museum." Feliciano whined. "It's the museum of Italian art which is publicly owned by the town."

"Then maybe it's already been broken into?"

"Yeah," Lovino spat, "if they decided to go through all that trouble and not steal a god damn thing, sure."

Ludwig and Alfred still poured over the map. "Yeah," Alfred mused, "I wonder why they haven't broken into that yet. Break into some locally owned café before an Italian art museum?"

"Yeah, and that's a paint shop," Feliciano pointed over Ludwig's shoulder. "It's where I get all my oil paints and pascals. And that's a print shop."

"Weird," Antonio said, coming to stand behind Feliciano. "Have they broken into any art related stores?"

Feliciano tapped his fingers as he looked. "Nope, none at all!"

"Maybe they're just not interested in art," Lovino growled.

"Or…" Alfred, again, "maybe they're saving those locations for last on purpose." In a paradox of passion, he slammed his hands against the table, the wood cracked beneath the brute force. "What would keep the police force from acting?"

"Money?"

"The president?"

"Pretty ladies?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "No! Think about it. Police forces don't move in if the public is in danger. Not until they have a clear shot and they feel confident that they've got it! Maybe these people aren't breaking into places to steal—but to leave something behind."

Quickly he ruffled through the notes that the team had messily thrown together on each case. Alfred hadn't known why everything that was stolen was so random—he had assumed it was because the thiefs were part of a bigger group or a black-market trading ground. But that hadn't even made sense, seeing as some of the items stolen were down right useless.

"What you are suggesting," Ludwig said lowly, "could be holding much more dire implications than I think you understand."

"I know, I know! But why else would they steal a tea kettle!?" Because they had some taste, probably. "It wasn't worth anything. Twenty bucks, tops! And I doubt that there was some hidden inheritance laid in it. There is a pattern here somewhere, but I don't think we're seeing it because we're looking at the wrong crime!"

"So, you think they're leaving behind something that could potentially endanger the public?" Gilbert asked, coming to finally join the conversation as he sat next to Ludwig. "Like…a bomb system?"

Feliciano gasped. "Bombs! You really think they're planting bombs around town!"

"I don't—well, no, it couldn't be that serious."

"Are you sure?" Gilbert asked with a raised eyebrow. Ludwig elbowed him in the rib, Feliciano having reached some pinnacle of nervousness that caused him to stop listening, it seemed.

"No, not bombs," Ludwig soothed over with a sigh, pressing Feliciano back into his chair as the auburn haired boy looked ready to bolt. "They would get federal law involved immediately if that was the case."

"Maybe they are involved," Mathew said, "and we just don't know it because they're keeping it undercover. That would explain the lack of reports in Dad's database."

"Yeah it would…" Alfred trailed off. His arrogance kept him from fully believing that this could be true—because if it was that would mean he wouldn't have a reason to slip into inappropriate spandex and tittle around the town like an idiot.

Alfred dropped his head to the table, breathing a quiet "tittle? The fuck are you? Three?" Recomposing himself, he nodded to the group. "It is definitely a possibility, then. It still feels too out there, though. I mean, this is a realistic story, no way the author is going to throw us into that right away."

A lapse of silence. "Al, seriously, you should take better care of yourself. This is real life—you can get hurt here. I really don't think you should get involved in this one."

Alfred suddenly stood up and slapped his brother across the face. Mathew fell backwards, crying something indistinguishable and—

"No I didn't!"

Well I'm getting bored.

"Then go find something else to do, asshat."

Ludwig stood up with a sigh. "We'll keep our eyes out, Alfred, but I suggest you don't do anything rash."

Alfred sighed and nodded. "Alright, alright. I'll try to call Dad tonight and get some information. Maybe stake out the locations?"

"I'll go with you," Feliciano offered. "I've been meaning to buy some new supplies."

"Even with all the bombs?" Gilbert teased, earning himself another jab in the ribs.

"I mean…there are no bombs, right, Lovino?"

The moody twenty-year-old shrugged. "I'd blow up those damned places, too. Keep away idiotas like you."

Feliciano crossed his own arms and stomped his foot. "If you keep being such an asshole, I'm going to get Aunt Eliza to kick your ass."

"Oh, oh, ohh, please do," Gilbert broke in with a stupid grin. "I would very much like to see her."

"Gilbert!" Ludwig yelled.

"What? I'm twenty now, Luddy." Francis and Antonio chuckled, throwing him winks and thumbs-ups. "It's time for me to lay down the moves."

Feliciano giggled and rolled his eyes. "If you can take the pan you have my blessing. But, yeah, I'll come with you, Al." He turned back to Alfred with a grin. "And Ludwig can do my homework while we're off!"

"That was not part of the deal—"

The coward turned to him with the widest eyes Alfred had ever seen. He grabbed the bulky teen's hands, stood on his tiptoes, and cocked his head to one side slightly. "Oh, please doi—"

"Fine!" Ludwig shook the boy off with a deep blush across his cheeks. Feliciano smirked, throwing Antonio a wink. Lovino glowered at him.

"That does it~!"

The group dispursed, happy to get away from Alfred and his antics. Feliciano said goodbye to Ludwig and Gilbert, promising to be back before dinner time. Matthew packed up his things, cornering his brother.

"Be careful, Al," he sighed. "I really don't want Dad yelling at you about this again."

Alfred offered him a wide smile. "He's just worried," he laughed. "And jealous. I would be too, if my seventeen-year-old son was better at my job than me." He sent Matthew a playful wink. "One day they're in seventh grade track the next they're mulling down criminals. What can I say?"

"That you'll wait to be murdered until after you graduate high school?"

Alfred threw up a hand. "I swear that I will wait until after I graduate high school to be murdered," he vowed, "scout's honor."

Mathew sighed, shrugging on his bag. "I'm not really sure you can say that, seeing as you got kicked out of boy scouts for almost burning down a forrest."

Alfred shrugged. "You're still in it, though. American boy, my man!"

"American idiot, my brother," Matthew mocked, rolling his eyes.

Feliciano came over to join them. "Ve, are you coming, Matt?"

"No, unlike you I don't have someone to blackmail into doing my homework," he chuckled. "Keep my brother out of trouble?"

"Si!"

Before long Alfred and Feliciano had piled into the coward's orange Italian car. Feliciano rolled down the windows, apologizing for the fact that his air conditioner still didn't work. Alfred didn't mind the heat much.

"So, you and Ludwig are doing well?" Alfred asked.

Feliciano grinned. "Yup!" He laughed as he reversed out of the small place in between the trees. Awful driver, really, if Alfred was going to die anytime soon was going to be because of this boy's driving. "He actually invited me over for dinner tonight! I think he's going to ask me out."

"Ask you out?" Alfred laughed. "You guys haven't screwed yet?"

"I mean—but we were drunk and—" Feliciano giggled, "I couldn't help myself. Toni and I made a bet, and I just had to win!"

Alfred rolled his eyes, putting his elbow out the window. "I swear, you Italians. Suprissed you didn't go all Casanova on his ass."

Feliciano sighed in agreeance. "I definitely went through a minute where I wanted to," he admitted. "But…Ludwig and I have been such good friends for years now! And he really is quite sweet."

"Death of a bachelor," Alfred teased.

Feliciano stuck his tongue out at him. "Now all we have to do is find you a date. Boyfriend or girlfriend or… itfriend?"

The two laughed, Alfred exclaiming something about it being 2018 and making a shallow joke about refrigerators. Feliciano clutched the steering wheel, giggling so much—bringing them no doubt within an inch of their lives.

They came into town, Feliciano going past a stop sign without stopping.

"So," Feliciano continued, "have you told him yet?"

Alfred sighed. "Define told."

Feliciano stole a quick glance. "Going up to your brother and saying outright 'I have voices and my head and don't know what to do about it.'"

Alfred groaned, laying his head out the window and allowing the wind to push his eyes closed. His wind fluttered violently, sticking him until he was sure he was bleeding. "I just…don't know," he finally muttered.

"Get your head in the fucking car so that I can hear you," Feliciano told him, rolling up the blond's window.

"Hey!"

"This is a serious topic, Al."

"I know, I know… it's just I… don't know?"

Felicaino offered a small smile. "Si, I understand. You really need to confide in Matt. He'll understand."

"Did you confide in Lovino?"

Felicaino laughed. "Of course I did! Lovi may be a total ass in public, but he's actually pretty nice. Just… angsty. Si, he is an angsty teenager." Alfred chuckled. "Just—" Feliciano continued, serious, "don't let it get out of hand."

"You deal with it well."

Feliciano rolled his eyes. "Glove box."

"What?"

"Go on. Look."

Arthur followed directions. A small orange bottle with Feliciano's name in black letters, followed by something in Latin, lay ready at a moment's notice.

"This is the real world, Al." He chuckled. "Illness may seem like a novelty when you're being narrated, but it's dangerous. It… grows."

Alfred grasped the pill bottle in his hand. "So they finally figured out your dosage?"

Felicaino shrugged. "They're trying. Better than it's been!"

"Your supplies?"

"Going unused. I'm hoping to find something new—to inspire me. Maybe try something with graphite?"

"Aren't you scared that you have to choose between your passion or your sanity?"

"I mean, of course. But… there's pros and cons you have to consider. Anyway!" He lit up. "Nonno is going to let me go off when we go to Rome this summer. He said he's going to keep me under constant watch and that I have to listen to everything he says, but… but that's okay." He sent Alfred a grin. "It means we can find compromise! And so can you, but you have to speak up."

Alfred nodded slowly, sinking into his seat.

They made it to the art supply store fifteen minutes earlier than the speed limit told them to, and the boys piled out of the car. Felicaino stretched his arms above his head, resting them on his shoulder with laced fingers. "Alright, then! Your thing first, then mine."

"I don't know," Alfred said. "Mine may have us here all night."

Feliciano sent him a wink. "Then you better get a hotel. I'm classy now."

What a whore. This one really isn't good company. A coward half the time, a prostitute the rest of the time. And what even was his obsession with—

"Shut up," Alfred growled.

"Hmm, what was that?"

"No—Nothing! Let's just get your thing."

Feliciano laughed, jumping on the opportunity to go in an secure a few more art supplies. Alfred followed in behind him, stuffing his hands into his pockets and letting his mind run.

What are these people looking for?

Are there really bombs? No, no way!

But what if there are? I could be putting my friends in danger.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. A piece stuck out irregularly, just up, into the sky; annoying indeed.

"Yo," Alfred said, calling attention to the cashier. "'s'ou're owner around?"

The old woman shook her head. Her attire was simple, paint blotched apron and thin, grey hair pulled behind her ears into a bun. "No, she won't be back until next Monday."

"Manager?"

"That would be me."

Alfred nodded, taking out a pen and notepad from his pocket. He opened it to a blank sheet and sent the woman a kind smile. "Can I ask you a few questions? I'm doing a school report on business security."

The woman sent him a cold glare. Sighing he took out his wallet and flashed her his school ID. "Hetalia Community College, approximately seven miles from here, ma'am. I promise, I'm not looking to rob ya. Doing this for my Criminal Justice course."

"Ve!" Feliciano appeared with a flirtatious smile. "Vicky! You look lovely today. I painted a flower recently for you but seeing you today I realize that it won't do. Let me sketch you one? The more detail the more it will fit you, I think." He set the supplies he bought down. "There's just nothing generic that will work. No, nothing at all. Hmm, Al what are you—are you interrogating Ms. Vicky?"

"What? No." Alfred laughed. "I just wanted to ask her some questions about the store's security."

"Asking question is interrogating. How do you expect to become a cop when you don't even understand that?" Feliciano exclaimed.

At first Alfred was embarrassed, because he was dumb, but he soon came to realize that his friend was a genius.

"We have cameras," Ms. Vicky shared, "but we don't have anything major. No alarms or anything."

Alfred fervidly wrote this down. "And its worked? I mean, you've never had a break-in?"

The old woman shook her head as she rung Feliciano up. "No. Not many people are interested in art. And if they are they'd break into the museum. Will that be all, hun?"

Feliciano nodded and handed her his card. She swiped it, handed him a small pin-pad, and took it back just as it was spitting out his receipt.

"As you may have heard, there has been a list of break-ins around this area. Does that concern you?" She shrugged her shoulders.

"I live in the loft upstairs when the owner isn't in. If someone breaks in they get a bullet in the chest. No acceptations."

Feliciano giggled at her nervously. "That'd show him." He muttered.

Alfred nodded. "So you have on site security, then. Do you never feel in danger yourself? You are in the middle of downtown."

"When you've lived in this city as long as I have, boy, you learn that the scariest thing we have is the police force." She wiped he hands on her apron and busied herself with gathering something together. "There's no hope for this country if your generation doesn't fix it."

Alfred hesitated with his pen. "Uh—yeah. Well, thank you, ma'am. I think that this is enough to start my report."

"Yeah, yeah." She mumbled, turning away from the two boys and disappearing into the back room. Feliciano and Alfred shared a shake of their heads and a small laugh. As they left Feliciano chirped "what a strong and independent woman. Even if she scares me more and more every time I come by."

Alfred laughed. "isn't she your flower?"

"Mmm, cougar." He growled playfully, laughing.

Their next stop was the museum. It was going to be closing in half an hour, so they would have to be quick. "You know," Feliciano said as they walked in and paid for their admission, "maybe asking people about their security system isn't the best idea. Makes you look suspicious."

Obviously. Only a twat doesn't know that.

Alfred took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright, so let's just look around for a way to get in?"

"Erm, suspicious."

"Well," Alfred whined, throwing his hands into the air, "to beat a criminal you gotta think like a criminal!"

"As day time television has told me," Feliciano chuckled.

"We could stake out the place. Stay in here, stay hidden?" Alfred pleaded.

"As wonderful as that sounds…"

"Please Feliciano. I'd really like to catch these guys."

Feliciano bit his lip, twiddling with the hem of his shirt. "Well, it's just—what if the others are right and there is a greater threat? What do we do then?"

Alfred shrugged. "I don't know. But I don't think it'll come down to that. My gut doesn't think that there's a bomb."

"I'm not sure if I'd peg your gut as the winner in that fight."

"Pleasssee!" It had come to this, annoying for incentive.

Feliciano thought it over, sighing. "Okay, okay. I will—but only if you can convince some of the others. It I'm going out I'm taking those I love with me."

Alfred laughed, taking out his phone. "I think you're a sadist."

Feliciano just sent him a wink.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hi, so this story is my attempt at writing something light. Remorse is slowly making me go insane as I plot out the story and characters, and I don't know why haha. But, here is a superhero story featuring your favorite American. The style presented in this fic is inspired by Reneia 's Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better; except, of course, these characters are at the beginning of their college careers, not the end of their high school years.

Don't be afraid to review, and IF YOU ARE REVIEWING AS A GUEST PLEASE PUT SOME CREATIVITY INTO YOUR USERNAME

I'm serious. I want something that tells your life story. I don't know how many characters you have, but make it good.

Until we meet again~