Author's Note: Uhm this is for the kink meme… just the prologue for now… I don't even know why I'm posting this?

It's pretty shitty and there's not gonna be any smexing till the last few chapters. If that's what you're looking for, don't bother reading this… So yeah. T for language at the moment, but it will be M… eventually…

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Alfred inhaled deeply, ready to give this last call everything he had. "ARTHUR KIRKLAND!" He shouted. No answer.

A few loud smacks to the door. Still, no answer.

"Open the god damn door and hand over my god damn pay check, you prissy old bastard!" Alfred demanded, a deep frown etched onto his face. Perhaps that was not the best of ideas, considering this Englishman was the one who provided all of Alfred's income. However, he wouldn't be getting any money if that old grouch didn't get his ass out there!

Forgetting to pay your employees once? No big deal. Twice? Pushing it a just a tiny bit. Three times? Uh, hell no buddy! People have needs. Financial needs. Financial needs that require your money at the end of every month.

Alfred took a second deep breath, trying to regain his composure. So far, that plan wasn't going so well. He grabbed the knob, giving it a good jerk, only to find the door swing open. Great. All that hard work and the door had been left open. Curiously, he took a step inside.

Alfred took it upon himself to do a bit of "exploring" around the house. And the only thing he managed to gather was that for an old geezer, Kirkland sure knew how to live! A theater room and an indoor swimming pool complete with hot tub? This guy was loaded! Yet he couldn't give out a few measly pay checks each month? Well, that's rich people for you.

"Mr. Kirkland? MR. KIRKLAND?!" Alfred called, picking a random hallway. All the lights were off. This was going to take a while…

xxxxx

After traveling the dozens of hallways, Alfred stumbled upon a door at the end of the final corridor. It was opened just a crack, revealing a light at the top of a narrow staircase. "There you are, you cheeky bastard. Thought you could fool me, did you?!" He snorted, swinging the door open and stomping up the stairs. "But you can't fool Alfred F. Jones! And that's a lesson you're about to learn the hard way…. THERE YOU ARE... not…" He muttered, smacking his forehead in frustration. The room was empty. What a real big shocker right there.

The attic had an eerie aura about it. Two hanging lanterns gave the room a dimly lit glow, yet somehow the light added to the haunting atmosphere. To Alfred, the room resembled something straight out of a Harry Potter book. A large assortment of cloaks had been left out, strewn across the dusty floor. Joining the cloaks on the floor were about half a dozen or so trunks, all locked up and sealed tight.

"What a strange little British man…" Alfred muttered aloud. Every sound he made was magnified by the otherwise silent room.

Despite all the bizarre instruments and peculiar smell, the thing that intrigued Alfred the most was a small safe that had been left open just a crack. Perhaps the Brit kept his money in a safe? Pssh. How old school was that? Oh well. Kirkland's loss.

Alfred knelt down onto the floor, opening the safe cautiously. The thing was old and rusty, and for the most part as if it were on the verge of falling to pieces. However, there was no cash in the safe; just a star on a stick and an old piece of paper.

"What the fuck is this?" He chuckled, picking up the scrap of paper. "'DO NOT TOUCH? Property of Arthur Kirkland?'" He read aloud, rolling his eyes. "Whatever. This guy sure is a creep." He muttered to himself, grabbing the stick and looking it over.

"It looks like a wand! This guy sure has some weird hobbies…" He snickered, giving the wand a flick. Without warning, a spark shot from the tip, and flew rapidly around the room, bouncing off walls and knocking over some of the bizarre instruments on the selves, until it hit Alfred square in the chest. There was a bright light, and then everything went white.

xxxxx

"Ughh… fuck…" Alfred muttered, sitting up slowly. A shiver went through his find as he felt the wind blow in from the open window. "Damn… it's fucking cold… Wait. Jacket. Where's my jacket?" He asked aloud to no one in particular. Looking down, he realized why he was so cold. His uniform was gone and he was left in what resembled a toga tied around the waist with a length of rope.

"Wha… what the fuck?" He cried, scrambling to his feet. Okay… something had seriously gone wrong. What time was it? Where were his clothes? How did he get in the toga? So many questions were buzzing through his head. However, his thoughts were interrupted by a demanding scream.

"WHO THE HELL IS IN MY HOUSE?!" Alfred recognized the voice of none other than Arthur Kirkland, and he could hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

Without warning, the door swung open, and his boss burst through the door. "J- Jones? Is that- what in the hell…? What happened to you?" He asked, eyes darting around the room. Finally, they lay on the wand and the open safe that lay on the floor.

"Oh no…"

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TOLD YOU IT WAS SHIT…

Beware typos. It's like zero fucking degrees here and I can barely type…

Review plz? I'd love to hear suggestions or ideas for later chapters! Oh yeah! The prompt!

"One day, America somehow gets England's Brittania Angel powers and America becomes the American Angel."