Matthieu Williams: L'espion
Title: Matthieu Williams: L'espion
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Characters: Various Characters, [Human-Verse]
Rating: PG-13+ | May be adjusted in the future, maybe?
Warnings: Not in this chapter, at least.
Summary: [AU] It was all Alfred's fault, really, dragging him into this mess, which led to another mess, and then another mess from that one! Matthew Williams never expected to be thrust into the underground world, a world filled with lies, deception, death, and mystery—the mafia; however, who's to say that he's scared at all? It's a new adventure, and there's that slight possibility of—well, maybe he is slightly afraid after all. In this situation, maybe the saying still stands strong in the end: "once you're in, you can never get out." Though, there's no harm in trying, right?
Author's Note from Aurrei: Really, I don't know where I'm going with this story, but I hope you guys like it—the idea actually came from a book that my brother's reading: something with spies and whatnot. I hope that you all enjoy my first story here on Fanfiction.
Preliminary Hearings | "It's not just a desk job…"
- New York, New York
Well, you could say that he sort of hated his job—mainly because of the fact that it kind of involved working with those dangerous types of people that you thought you'd only see in movies, but yet, he found himself liking it in that odd, sort-of-twisted way that was completely and utterly—the blonde Canadian bit the end of his pencil, trying to solve the math problem in front of him whilst continuing his inner monologue—him. Really, he wouldn't have signed up for that first assignment had not Alfred persuaded him into joining the exuberant blonde in completing that odd task. He wouldn't have gotten himself into that world in the first place, given that the overly-excited American hadn't dragged him in that scheme that the both of them both knew just wouldn't work. It was crazy, all of it was insane; bollocks; it was like Alfred's spring fever for disaster.
Being a part of World Industries certainly did not put him at ease every second of the day; rather, it made the hairs on the back of his neck constantly stand on edge! He, Matthew Williams, was most certainly not suited for working for a branch of the mafia world—as an informant nonetheless! It was crazy, absolutely crazy. Well, at least there were some benefits that could've balanced everything out, right?
"Matthieu?" queried a voice from behind him. Turning around in his chair, the college student looked up at the Frenchman standing behind his chair, hands tucked elegantly into the pockets of his expensive-looking coat, stubble gracing his chin, blue eyes twinkling in the lights of the office building. And, oh, you could just tell from one glance he was French.
"Oui, François? D-Did you need anything?" the Québécois young man replied timidly, closing the binder containing his college homework—he still had to finish that English essay!
Handing him a manila folder, Francis Bonnefoy, otherwise known as François, smiled at his young pupil, ruffling his soft, blonde hair fondly before explaining the contents of the heavy object: "Here's your—what is it, third?—assignment. We need information on the whereabouts of the Vargas brothers."
"Vargas brothers? Weren't they in Spain just a few days ago?"
"They were, yes, but apparently they're gone."
"Gone? Just like that?"
"Oui. Arthur would like the information by this afternoon, s'il tu plait."
And just like that, the Parisian was gone, humming the tune to some French folk song as he made his way towards his office with such elegance that one would think that he were royalty or something. Sighing, the violet-eyed Canadian opened the file and took out the necessary documents: cell phone numbers, addresses, maps, and other things that he thought he might need before going on an intensive web search and phone-call mania. "Why does Mister Kirkland always put all of this work on me?"—glancing at a framed portrait resting on the side of his desk, he sighed—"Alfred can also do the work, right?"
But he was sort of thankful, having a job in the first place and all—some people weren't even granted the thought of being able to work for one's own keep, and as an informant? That was completely outrageous; there were people out there who were ignorant of the government's doings, the doings of their neighbors, the doings of their family—the actions that groups of people committed in their lives that influenced their tomorrow in ways that might not be entirely beneficial. It was nice, knowing what exactly was going on instead of relying on biased news sources and the like.
Matthew also liked learning new things; but what he didn't know was that several of the higher-ups in the organization liked the fact that he took on jobs without questioning them at all—he was too easy to bring into their plot, too trusting of his employer, especially in a field such as working in the underground. Well, the man thought to himself, nibbling once more on the end of his pencil as he looked through the phone numbers, trying to correlate them with the ones already on his records, at least it's only a desk job—I couldn't handle killing somebody.
Luckily it's only just research about groups of people—that much I can handle.
Suddenly cut out of his thoughts by the phone ringing, he shook his head, picking up the plastic item and pressing it to his ear. "'Allo?"
"Hey, Matt, it's me, Al. Listen, do you have that file about Luddy?"
Bringing up the information on his computer, he quickly connected the phone to the device, tracing the call; he copied the coordinates that appeared on the screen, entering them into the company software. "What information did you need, eh?" His hands were poised readily at the keyboard, itching to type the information that his brother desired.
"Whereabouts, information regarding his base"—the American on the other side of the line seemed to have paused, thinking about what else he could say; Matthew could imagine him scratching his head or adjusting his glasses, or maybe tapping his temple with his eyes closed in deep thought; his mental picture of his older brother was extremely childish, but adorable in that Alfred-esque way—"I dunno. Can you just send stuff that'll help me infiltrate?"
"I've sent you a package onto your mobile—there's also a map there if you need it." He smiled, picturing the look on Alfred's face after realizing that he was working so quickly. He'd probably be smiling in that goofy way. There was a muttered thank you on the other side of the line before a grunt of confirmation that the information was sent. "Be safe, Al!"
Then the line went dead.
It's been awhile since he'd last seen his brother—four months, the other side of his mind offered. Yeah, it's been four months since he'd last seen him. Frowning, the college student continued to type at the computer; his hands were aching; his headache was growing. Why can't I just find—a little box popped up on the corner of the screen, one with… a small tomato on it? Staring at the image bouncing in the corner for a few seconds, the hockey-loving young man clicked the jumping chat notification, raising an eyebrow at the message that popped up long with a large image of what looked like a crime scene.
- - - (Guest, AnCa) I'd like information regarding this photo, please. [21:35:15]
- - - (Guest, AnCa) I've already contacted Mister Kirkland regarding this matter. [21:35:36]
Frowning, Matthew quickly typed in a message to his boss, wondering whether or not their latest "customer" was either lying or telling him the truth—you never really knew, especially though messages sent on the internet:
- - - (MaWi) Sir, I've received a message from somebody: [Guest, AnCa]. Did they contact you regarding a crime-scene photo? [21:36:02]
- - - (ArKi) Yes, they've contacted me. Please give them all desired information. [21:36:27]
- - - (ArKi) On second thought, don't give them any phone numbers, Mattie. [21:36:39]
Quickly typing a thank you to his British boss, he went back to the open window with the pictures and "Guest, AnCa"—
- - - (MaWi) Thank you for contacting World Industries, AnCa. What information would you like regarding this photo? [21:37:01]
- - - (Guest, AnCa) Those involved, the crime, and the reason for it, por favor. [21:37:35]
- - - (MaWi) When would you like the information by? [21:37:41]
And at that moment, he already had the photo being scanned through their system, trying to find a match that contained the file with all the information that their servers had. Then he would look in the folders in his filing cabinet for any other information that the other man might need. But no phone numbers, he reminded himself sternly, remembering Mister Kirkland's instruction.
It was a tough job that required knowledge of how to use a computer; well, maybe it wasn't so difficult, but it was a still interesting what pictures or documents you got handed to you.
- - - (Guest, AnCa) As soon as possible. [21:37:44]
However, their messaging system was unique: it was encrypted with impossible-to-crack security software that several people in another department cooked up several years ago. And with the technology nowadays, it was easier to send documents than from the past. A simple click here and then another click there could allow a person to send several gigabytes of information, packets and packets of papers, to another person halfway across the globe in a matter of only several minutes—depending on nothing on internet speeds and how busy the server was.
- - - (MaWi) I have all of that information here. Would you like me to send it to you via messenger? [21:37:50]
- - - (Guest, AnCa) In person is fine.[21:37:52]
In person, Matthew echoed in his head, staring at the blinking message on the screen. He's never done an in person delivery before; people would usually ask for him to send the information online because it was easier. Then he could spend the rest of the night working on his college assignments, and information gathering assignments that Francis would give him occasionally. In person was definitely not in his comfort zone!
The image of a fairy popped up on his screen: Mister Arthur Kirkland.
- - - (ArKi) Mattie, are you sending him the information? [ 21:38:10]
- - - (MaWi) He wants me to give it to him in person. [21:38:11]
- - - (ArKi) Bloody hell. Mattie, just give it to him. [21:38:12]
Mister Kirkland had confidence in him to give "Guest , AnCa" the information. He was confident he could do it—he wanted him to ditch the desk job to deliver the information. That little bit of knowledge that somebody trusted him to do something made Matthew Williams absolutely giddy, his heart beating just a bit faster, his clothes slightly more comfortable, the office chair suddenly seeming like a fun, spinning toy that he could play around in all day; happy, he felt happy. Somebody trusted him to do something!
- - - (MaWi) Do you have a meeting place? [21:38:14]
- - - (Guest, AnCa) I have sent you the desired coordinates for our meeting two days from now. Thank you, MaWi.
Looking up the coordinates on a map, the Canadian merely stared at his computer with wide eyes. I'm ditching the desk job, he thought to himself, gritting his teeth, trying to prevent himself from cracking a small, shy smile. I'm going to Europe!
- At an Unknown Location
"Are all the plans set?"
"Si, he'll be flying in by tomorrow afternoon."
"Perfect."
Ending Author's Note: Well, I hope that you guys liked it-I don't think that I've nailed all of the personalities of the people in Hetalia quite yet, so please point out where I happen to have a character out of, well, character. Anyways, I hoped that you guys enjoyed that, and please review with your comments if you have any!