A/N: Back with an experiment of sorts, and things will get very... interesting? Complicated? You decide. I'm excited about this story, though, and I hope you will be too! c: I guess it'll become pretty apparent, but the story is set during the Cold War (as all my stories seem to be, because who am I kidding, the dynamic between America and Russia at that point is absolutely delicious~)
Hopefully I'll get around to updating once a week, but we'll see how long that lasts.
I think for future reference, I should go ahead and warn about language, sexual implications, actions, that sort of thing, but I don't want to spoil the fun, so enjoy!
The corridor was eerily familiar. At least, to those who had the unfortunate duty of making themselves familiar with the building in which it resided. The fame of the headquarters mainly lay in the flashy atrium, displaying various aircraft models suspended from overly polished glass panes. Most of those in attendance of the agency's press conferences never even gave the building's interior a glance, though the long wall of windowpanes behind the stand would surely imply that someone would peer inside once and a while.
But then again, who would really ask what went on behind their closed doors?
A crisply uniformed blonde strode down the hallway, his pace a bit more hurried than normal. He stopped at the row of windows, glancing outside into the rainy streets as the screams of sirens echoed through the city from several blocks away. His eyebrows furrowed as gloved fingers pressed the elevator button. Days like these made the department fidget more than usual, and he was just as happy to rid himself of the stress as they were. A receptionist glanced up at the click of the man's boots, before her eyes darted to the clock on the wall as she made a note of the time. But by the time she looked up again - perhaps to greet the man, or perhaps to point out rather condescendingly that he was late to meet the commissioner - he was already through the elevator door and gone.
The elevator stopped at the basement with a slight jolt as the man stepped into another corridor, considerably narrower and entirely less aesthetically appealing.
"So, you came after all, Alfred?"
As he looked over at the chief of police exiting an office, Alfred couldn't help but to grin at the man's weary state. "And here I was, thinking things were going so well when you handled them on your own," he replied, gripping the older man's hand in a shake. The commissioner sighed, and ran a hand through his graying hair. "I don't know about this one. He's… different," he said with a grimace, "and I'm worried that we've got more on our plate than we think." It had taken a considerable amount of preparation to gain a lead on the subject of the discussion, as well as a considerable amount of research on exactly what had been happening to those left in his burning path, but when the department sent out a team to go take the suspect into custody, they were surprised to be met with the character they'd found, now being held in the next room.
Alfred picked up a file from a nearby desk with a bark of laughter. "Commissioner, you've said that on more than one occasion, I think we'll be alright." As he paused to take a sip of coffee, Alfred caught the man rolling his eyes at the nation. "Always so eager to play the hero," he murmured, holding back another sigh as the American beamed. "Why don't you go in and start getting some information from this guy?" Alfred nodded, grabbing a few more papers and a pen off the desk. "Sure. Can I get the key?" He started for the door of the main interrogation chamber, turning around confusedly when met with silence.
"Commissioner?"
"Actually, he uh… wanted the conference room."