Creeping through the back alleys of New York City, blue eyes perused every shadow for injustice. He did this nightly, under the protective disguise of an all-new costumed vigilante. After all, it was New York City, famous for the Spider-Man movies and being the muse of inspiration for Gotham City in Batman. The only way to fight crime and get away with it in this city was if you pretended to be a superhero. And that's exactly what he was doing.

Coming into the alley our hero patrolled was a snowy haired teenager, listening to music with his hood pulled up. He was totally oblivious to the three guys trailing after him. Sinking into the shadows, our hero waited patiently, watching and waiting for the trio to strike.

One of the three boys appeared to be underage and publicly intoxicated, and they all looked familiar…our hero was the picture of silence. He thought to himself that he wouldn't be noticed if he tried or if he didn't, either way. That's just how it was for him.

"Yo! Snow White! Where's your, like, Prince Charming?" one of the teens shouted, his voice slurring as he threw an arm around his friend to steady himself, "I bet you're, like, goin' to visit him….tall, dark, and, like, Indian."

The teenager in question raised his head, revealing two scarlet eyes our hero knew well enough, and looked behind him. The albino stopped mere inches from the end of the alley, where it opened to a dark street with even darker houses lining it; he slowly took his ear phones out and smiled devilishly.

"Yeah? You aren't too far from your butt buddy, either, Feliks. How are you doing Toris, by the way?" The brunette of the trio grew red and the shorter blond flew at the hooded boy. The sound of a fist making contact with skin was clear, echoing through the alley, causing our masked hero to tense. He wouldn't make himself known until there was a more serious danger…like the tall boy with violet eyes.

"You, like, need to learn how to speak to others. Especially people that are, like, so much higher up on the social ladder than you are." Gilbert rubbed his cheek slowly but made no move to defend himself, "Ivan, I'm like, done with him. You can do, like, whatever you want with him. Come on Toris, I'm like, totally sloshed and it's a school night. Can you drive me home because, like, you aren't drunk because you're, like, no fun at all?" Toris sighed nervously but he must have said yes, because the sound of retreating footsteps was evident.

And so was the sound of a silent struggle. Its silence broke the next minute, the sound of metal breaking bone filling our hero's ears. Just the sound of it made him cringe into the glacially cold brick wall he was hiding against.

The victim grunted in pain and coughed wetly as the continuous sound of metal crushing bone and the laughter of Ivan Braginski filled the alley like a song from hell.

Now.

Emerging from the shadows, our hero walked out silently. His clothes didn't utter a whisper and his boots dared not give away that there wasn't two people in the alley anymore, but three. From head to toe, our hero wore black leather trimmed with red and our hero's masked eyes fixed themselves stubbornly on the sight before him:

Gilbert Beilschmidt lies on the ground, clutching his rib cage as Ivan Braginski rained steel and mirth onto the unusually defenseless German. This was an uncommon sight. Fire-filled Gilbert Beilschmidt always fought against everything; his brother, his teachers, the rules, authority, etc.

Not tonight, however.

Jumping into the air and kicking off of the brick wall, our leather-clad hero tackled the violet-eyed Russian to the dirty ground, pausing his assault. Knocking the steel pipe away from Ivan's merciless hands, our hero began punching Ivan in the face to keep his attention on him; he ignored the aggressive blows he was being dealt.

Rolling onto our hero in a surprisingly quick manner, Ivan stared down into confident, blue eyes and found he was curious. He'd have to unmask this "hero" and then throttle him for interrupting his business. Or throttle him now and ask questions later. Wrapping his hands around his captive's pale throat, he began to squeeze, not taking into account that there was a wall in front of him and that our costumed vigilantes legs were free to do whatever they pleased.

And whatever they pleased they did.

With hardly any effort, athletically seasoned legs launched Ivan Braginski forward. Making a resounding whack, Ivan Braginski's head made contact with the red bricks and the dead weight of his body fell sideways. Our now free hero stood up and surveyed the damage.

His neck would be bruised and so would his ribs, but that was all in a night's work.

What was important was that he protected an innocent. It was pretty sweet.

Breathing out, our hero's hot breath made a plume of white smoke form in the wintry New York air. Gazing at the attacker, blue eyes searched for the rise and fall of Ivan's chest, before closing in relief when he saw it go up and down slowly. He trained his gaze next on Gilbert, finding his lips spotted with blood and tinged blue from the cold.

Gloved hands found Gilbert's arms and pulled gently so that he was sitting up, his head lolling sideways and his eyes trying to focus on his savior before him. Strong leather encased arms picked the German up bridal style and Gilbert could feel himself moving from the alley.

He sighed in relief, shaking from the cold and from fear. He had been expecting this for weeks.

But, before Gilbert lost total consciousness due to the trauma inflicted upon him, he saw blue eyes, blond hair, and a stray piece of hair that stuck out and curled defiantly. Gilbert knew two kids that fit the bill of that description easily, but only one that would have a reason to beat Ivan Braginski into the ground for his wrong-doing.

Gilbert wheezed out a name questioningly, "Alfred?"

Alright! Hi, guys! This is the first time I've ever tried doing an action story like this, thoughts? :3

I really hope you enjoy this!

Feliks - Poland

Toris - Lithuania

Gilbert - Prussia

Ivan - Russia

Hero - time will tell~