Point Blanc : Noir
Canada~Matthew Willliams
Summary: 18-year-old Matthew Williams became an assassin-for-hire at the early age. Keeping his job and maintaining his usual daily normal life, was a "hard-to-do", seeing that his brother, Alfred F. Jones (a self-proclaimed hero and annoying loud brother) was being chased by an unknown organization. Not only that but his best friend, an albino Prussian male that goes by the name of "Mr. Awesome" (or simply Gilbert Beilschdmit) was suspicious of his mysterious "job". Oh what a poor, shy, passive-aggressive Canadian hired gunner to do?
A/N: Ta-da! Here I am, again, bringing you another action-packed Hetalia fanfic and this time, the spotlight's on the quiet and timid, Mattie! *shot by a certain Canadian* *revives again* Anyway, I hope I could go somewhere on this and don't give up on it- . Oh well~ Anyhoo! Enjoy! Don't forget to voice your opinions on this one if I should continue it or not, kay? Kay! Now, dear Mattie, will you please?
Mattie: -sigh- Maya does not own. She only owns her crack-filled, disturbed mind.
Got that one, right, lad! AHAHAHAHAA- *shot again*
Mattie: Anyway, please enjoy!
Prologue
"To the edge of the Earth- There's a brave new world awaits…"
"N-No way… I was pretty damn sure that I-" My little twin brother, Alfred F. Jones, shuddered as he gazed at the test paper filled with red marks. He had funny aghast look in his slight chubby face, despite that he's the same age as me (though I'm older by him by a minute).
I sighed, "C'mon, Al- It's just an entrance exam, and look! You even passed! Isn't that enough?"
He frowned deeply, "Yeah! Like you can call 76% percent in Dad's eyes! He's going to kill me, Mattie! He told me that if I don't get at least, 80%, he'll take my Xbox 360 away for the weekend!"
I listened to him whine some more at what punishment that Dad would do to him once he sees his mark. I just sighed again. Really, my brother is just like that. Even though we're in our first college year, he still acts like a spoiled child. I guess, he'll never grow out of it.
Oh, sorry, I haven't introduced myself yet. My name's Matthew Williams. Adopted by a gay couple-now-parents. The one who's whining like there's no tomorrow happens to be my little twin brother. We're fraternal twins. He has golden hair, but mine's much more lighter color, almost platinum. While his eyes were blue like the ocean and the sky combined, mine have the mix of lilac and light indigo. The only common thing about us, is that we wore glasses. Though we're so different in so many levels, people around us can't help but mistake us from each other.
In the family, Alfred is like the sunshine. He brightens up our parent's day after work by annoying them or making fun of them. He's loud, annoying, and full of energy. One could mistake that he had sugar-overdose or something. He always wore that leather bomber jacket that Dad bought for him last Christmas. His dream was to be in the military and fight the bad guys. Oh, did I tell you that he has this big ego and a huge hero complex? No? Well, now you know…
On my side, I'm the quiet one. The smart and polite one. My parents often lecture my brother about him being more like me. Although, unlike him, I don't talk to people too much, resulting into having no friends to hang out with. But there's one. He's a German- Pardon me, a Prussian-albino with silver short, messy hair and handsome red eyes. He call himself "awesome" every time that he refers to himself and has a pet golden chick that often make its home at the silverette's head. It's name was Gilbird, named after him, Gilbert Beilschdmit. He's also my brother's archrival in popularity during these past few years.
Anyway, going back to where we are now, we're in the entrance of our school, just finished our exams. Apparently, I got an average 95% (which is pretty for me, if I do say so myself) while my brother was moaning being 76%. We were dressed casually, of course, my brother's wearing the said bomber jacket as always. Though, it's already spring and the winter's breath was still upon us, given that there's warm sunlight and melting snow.
"As long as you say that you did study hard for it, you'll be fine…" I told him, "They'll believe you since you've never gotten close to being 80% before…"
He sighed, resigning, "… M'kay." He then suddenly brightened up. Seriously, there's nothing that could let my brother be depressed for a minute. "Hey! Wanna grab some grubs before we go home?"
"Huh? Why? We have enough food at the house-" I was cut off when he gave me a look.
"Dude, have you forgotten what today is?" I shook my head. He made a face. "It's Dad's turn to cook, not Papa…"
I shuddered. Oh. "W-Well, what are we waiting for? Where do you wanna go?"
He let out a laugh as we ran together to the gates of the school. "McD's, of course!"
Want to know why I agreed with him? You'll see…
After an hour eating outside, we came home by almost 4. Papa wasn't back yet from his work yet but we did know that Dad's home.
Because of the god-awful smell that smelled like rotting flesh with expired cheese together coming from the smoking kitchen. Both me and my brother stared at the kitchen in dismay.
"Go get the extinguisher, Al-" Alfred nodded and went back to the front hall. I sauntered towards the black fog that had formed inside of our kitchen.
"D-Dad…"
"Oh, blast it! That's not suppose to do that! GAH!" Crash. Clank. Thud.
I let out a tired sigh before letting myself in, plugging my nose between my fingers while I'm it. That's my Dad for you. He can never cook (not that he can't) without letting out a string of swears.
"Dad! We're home!" I called out, my voice sounded funny without breathing through my nose.
Crash. Thud. "A-Alfred?"
"No, it's Mattie! W-What happened here?" I spotted a mop of messy blonde hair like mine in the midst of the smoke. I reached out to him and found his shoulder.
He turned, his green scowling eyes were on mine. "Oh! Mattie- W-Welcome home! Y-You should get out, my boy, I don't want you to get lung cancer from the smoke!"
His name is Arthur Kirkland. Despite how he looks, his the "mother" figure in out family. He's very adamant and timid around Papa. He has a loud voice like my brother if he's angry and the only thing that is so unique from him, aside from being British, is his caterpillar-like black brows. Those things were like huge, I don't know how else I could put it. He's rather scrawny and pale like me and bro. He can be very passionate and be like a "mother" but he has his "moments" (Al calls them, "effects of PMS" or something…).
I shook my head, coughing up a bit before I pulled him with me, leading towards the exit. Once we were outside the kitchen, I sucked in the fresh air. Good thing, Alfred opened that window- Wait a minute, where is he?
"I found the extinguisher!" a familiar voice boomed at my left. That's not where the front hall is- Wait, did he…! "No Alfred! Don't use that!"
"Don't worry guys! The hero is here!" And without hesitation, aimed the hose towards the threshold of the kitchen. Which where me and my Dad were situated. Shi-
"Al!
"Bloody hell! Son! Puu-"
With a loud spurt, white foam exploded in out faces as Alfred sluiced us with the contents of the extinguisher. After a minute or so, the entire room was covered with pearly white spumes. And so did I and my Dad.
Alfred blinked, his socks were wet too from the suds. He dropped the extinguisher and his face scrunched up like he was holding himself back (I would call it, the "constipated" face).
I gaze at him strangely before turning to Dad, and I immediately felt the atmosphere. This is bad.
And Alfred did the most out-of-situation thing ever.
He burst up laughing, his guffaws echoing in the house. "Oh God! You guys look funny! Dad looks a lot like Jack Frost! DDDD"
Snap.
One minute, my Dad is chasing after his jovial son, screeching at him in British slang that I could not comprehend. I shook my head at this as I stood up among the white stuff and decided to wash up. I headed upstairs, passing Dad and Alfred along the way. Alfred gave me a grin while the other ignored me, still screaming profanities with British accent.
As I stepped to the stairs, I heard the front door opened and I knew that Papa had came home at last. I glanced at my wristwatch. It's already 6. Dad hasn't made dinner yet (well, he tried like many times before, but still ended up burning the stove, for the eighth time this month) so that means Papa is making one.
My Papa's name is Francis Bonnefoy. He has hair like mine and eye like Al. He's, per say, a very interesting person. He loves us so much and spend his time offs with us. He's currently a famous chef down at the town and he gets paid high, (so repairing the kitchen every time Dad burns it, isn't a problem). He loves to flirt and show my Dad physical love in public. Which me and Al would find it awkward. For him, he would just give us the excuse of "not afraid to show l'amore to your beloved" or something…
"Mes chers! I am 'ome!" called out a French-accented deep voice. "Oh, 'ello there, Al-"
"Papa, hide me!"
"-?"
"GET YOUR BLOODY ARSE IN HERE, ALFRED F. JONES! I OUGHTA-"
"Oh! Mon petit lapin! What 'as 'appened? Why do you look like Jack Frost?"
"YOU TOO, FRENCHIE!"
Even not seeing them. I could still picture their reactions and faces in my head. I just swayed my head for the umpteenth time that day and continued my way to my room.
Our house isn't anything grand or lame. It's quite comfortable with two story and a single kitchen and a pretty large back yard. We have rooms for ourselves, the master bed room, of course, belongs to my parents.
I opened my door to my room and walked in. I switched on my lights at the side, the lights flashing on.
My room is decent enough, I think. One single bed, a study desk and a Mac laptop, an attached closet and a washroom at the far side of that. At the opposite of where I am, the curtains were drew close. I first headed to the washroom to get rid of the froth stuck in my hair. After I rinse my face and dried my hair, I went back to my room to change into my nightwear when my phone rang.
I glanced at where the device was placed. The tiny LCD screen flash an "VQ" letters. My lavender eyes narrowed. Of all times, they would call.
I, again, let out a heave before walking towards it and picking it up. "Hello?"
"Matthew Williams?"
"Yeah, that's me. Is there a new "client"?"
"Yes. Meet us at the regular place, we're already there."
I remained silent before speaking up again, my tone suddenly turned cold and void of emotions, "How much?"
"350000 Canadian Dollars."
Wow. I could buy a house with that much money. "Right. Give me a minute."
"Of course." Click. I shut off my phone and tossed my blue winter nightwear to my bed. I went to my closet to fetch my work clothes, which consists of a black hoodie and tight jeans with hidden compartments. I also took out my knapsack that was well hidden behind my hangar. It contained most lethal weapons and knives used for my job.
Thud thud thud thud. BAM! "Hey Matti- Huh?"
I froze at the sound of my brother's entering. My back was at the door and I can see him blocking the entrance. Crap.
I slowly straightened up, eyeing my knapsack which was covered with the shadows underneath my bed. Thank God I'm fast.
I saw Alfred pouted as he saw me, "You're going out again to that mysterious job, right?"
I smiled nervously, "So-Sorry… D-Don't worry, it's nothing. The manager just asked me to take over one employee who got sick for the night."
He huffed, "Geez, Matt! You're overdoing it~ You'll grow old fast if you keep working like that! We have Papa for that, you know and I don't want you to tire yourself out and faint randomly at school!"
I let out a laugh. Oh, I just love how his imagination works. "Right. Well, I still got a few minutes left before I go, so would you mind leaving me for a second, please, Al?"
My brother stared at me quietly before rolling his eyes and retreated back, closing the door on his way. I heard him run back downstairs and told Dad and Papa about what's happening. I sighed. I should go before they check up on me again.
I snatched my pack out of the bed and sprinted to the curtains. I shifted them apart and unlocked my tall windows. With a final look at my dark room, I fled into the night.
I was able to be on time in the designated place, the famous pub in town, called White Tigress. This place was only open at night where prostitutes and rich men get drunk and get laid. A perfect place for a negotiation business. I know what you're thinking but no, I'm old enough to be seeing such things, thank you very much.
"You're late, Matthew- Huh? What's that in your hair?"
I groaned as I reached up and touched the suds that we're still there. I thought I got rid all of them! "It's nothing. So where's this client?"
My partner, a bald Black guy with dark brown, long dreadlocks, stepped aside to show me the "client". He was your pretty average wealthy guys with white suit and jewelry adorning his fingers and neck. He had a smug look in his bony face as his lazy eyes scanned me.
"Huh?" he said, in a drunken state voice, "Is this who you're talking about, David?"
My partner fixed his black sunglasses, "Yes. He's known as the Ghost Reaper around here."
The wealthy man walked up toward me and scaled me, "Huh, I thought you're going to be a big and scary guy but instead, you're a cutie~ Are you really a guy?"
I felt my brow twitched at his last words. Is this guy asking for trouble?
David held my shoulder as he stared at the man coldly through his glasses, "Please refrain such behavior in front of him, Mr. Gregory."
Damn right he should or else I would have shove up my gun in his ass and choke him with my- "Cool it, Matthew." I heard David says, his grasp tightening. He let go and gave me a folder.
Mr. Gregory puffed, "Whatever, as long as this cutie knows what he's doing~ So like I told your side-kick here earlier… There's this man that has been terrorizing my peeps all over the place. A few of my men were found dead this morning and others were missing. I don't know it is but I think I got a pretty good idea of this person." He motioned for me to open the folder.
I heard David called out some slutty waitress dressed but nothing with skimpy clothing and her assets were showing. I looked away in disgust. This isn't exactly one of my favorite places on Earth. My friend ordered some drinks, giving her a tip because of how she looks. I rolled my eyes at him.
I read the contents of the said articles and glanced up, "So this person called "Russia" is killing your people? Why?"
Mr. Gregory shrugged his shoulders, groaning, "I don't know! That "Russia" is one of General Winter's subordinates! He's a psycho, I tell you! Kills everything, left and right, whenever someone pisses him off!"
"A psycho killer? I haven't heard that for a long time," I chuckled, but I found it strange though. I mean, c'mon! Who would named their selves after a country?
My client narrowed his eyes, "This is no joke, kid." He grabs a bottle of rum from the table and gulped it down with one go. I made a face at this. "That guy, I've seen him ony one time, and I hope that I would never see him again! He's pretty damn big and his weapon of choice happen to be a fucking water faucet! A fucking water faucet!" He made a gurgled noise and spat at the ground. Eew. "So I want you to kill him off for me."
I sighed, "No problem. But seeing that this "Russia" person is, in your terms, "big and scary" ,we we're going to have to raise the price for my services."
Mr. Gregory slammed his bottle down, "Whatever it takes, kid! I want that psycho gone!"
I smirked, "Then that's settled~ David, find any more info or background about this man, would you?" I handed him the file.
"Of course," he replied, taking it and placing it under his jacket. I turned to my client, "Well, expect this "Russia" to be seen dead next week's morning newspaper~"
He just stared at me ridiculously, "Ha? You can't kill of that person with just your own size!" He cackled, "Whatcha gonna do? Beg him to let him kill himself?"
He paused when he found himself at dead point underneath my M9 pistol. I beamed softly.
"I told you so," I heard David muttered, sipping in his wine.
"H-How did y-you!"
"I'll kill him, you'll see…" I growled while maintaining a jubilant face. I backed away as he let out a long drawl of relief.
That's right. In real life, I am Matthew Williams, the quiet timid, shy boy in school and a good and polite son of two gay couple. But in the dark side of reality, I am the Ghost Reaper, an infamous assassin-for-hire that was feared by many thugs and small organization.
Two persona. One being. My purpose of this?
To find the one who had attempted to abduct and kill ihim/i ten years ago.
This is my story.
{Point Blanc : Noir}