EDIT: I forgot to add the copyright or whatever. Sorry about that ^-^"

Hetalia (c) Himaruya

Player 1: Arthur [Iggy] Kirkland

Age: Not verified | Sex: M

Gender: Unknown | Location: Unknown

Eye colour: Green | Hair colour: Blond

Skills: computer hacking, espionage, martial arts [incomplete information]

I closed my eyes, annoyed that light still passed through the translucent skin which were supposed to protect them from the harsh environment of the outside world. I was not the simple man people saw me to be. With my involvement in the underworld, I promised myself one thing—that I would never feel sympathy towards my fellow humans.

At a very young age, I learned that life was a cruel joke and that in order to feel irreplaceable you had to work and earn your position otherwise, people would begin to see you as expendable. Don't get me wrong; people are indeed expendable, disposable—you get the picture—but there are geniuses and prodigies out there. That did not change my point of view on how pathetic life was. Whether they could speak in twenty-four languages, or they could memorize codes after scanning through them; genius or not, the person was still replaceable. That simply is—and will always be—the reality. Their skills, their knowledge, and any musings that passed through their minds casually—those were the ones that could never be replaced.

I raised a—some would describe as thick, or large, although I particularly believe they're average-sized—brow, listening to the heavy footsteps approaching me. That wouldn't be allowed, where I worked in. Bang! The gun would shoot the person in the chest, puncturing their lungs causing an instantaneous yet messy death.

Cracking an eye open, I stared up at the man in front of me, with his sun-kissed tan, electrifying blue eyes, and messy dirty blond hair. "Can I help you?" I asked in a not-so-welcoming tone. It was lunch period and I clearly did not appreciate people bothering me during times when I sought peace and quiet from my duties as the student council president. I especially did not appreciate troublemaking, code of conduct-offending idiots, such as the man right in front of me.

Pearl-white teeth grazed over his pale-red lip as he continued staring at me, anxiety shown all over his baby blue eyes. "Artie—" he said in an attempt to start the conversation before I rudely interrupted him.

"Mr. Jones, I would appreciate it if you called me by my name. We are not acquaintances, nor do we interact with each other socially enough by giving such…nicknames," I said in a clipped voice, sneering at the last word. This person was irrelevant to me; therefore I did not really see the purpose in acting socially-acceptable around him.

"Jeez, fine, Arthur, I was just wondering if you could tutor me in English class," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he returned my annoyed glare. His voice was low and smooth—not as low as mine, due to the usual upbeat tone he had in his voice, although it was low nonetheless. If one would hear him talk, they'd be able to tell that he was trying to cover up his southern twang, although he would still drag his vowels ever so slightly. What did I know about this man? Ah, yes, his name was Alfred F. Jones and he transferred to our private school a little over a month ago, I believe. From what I've heard, he was quite popular with everyone, although some did secretly loathe him. I would understand why, since not everyone can tolerate such a bright, annoying, and obnoxious attitude. He was quite the intellect, seeing as how he has tested out of three university-coursed Science classes, and has finished taking all of the Maths programs offered in school. He was admitted here as a special case, although he did have weaknesses in his academics. An example of that would be English. This—what everyone called him as—'boy genius', has failed English literature three times, completing one out of four required English credits in order to graduate. I could have laughed at that if I cared, although it took too much effort. Those were the basic information written on his school record.

Taking a glance at the book I held in my hand, I cracked my other eye open, letting out a sigh as I snapped it shut, placing it in my satchel. "There are various posts on the bulletin board outside the guidance office, as well as on the school website, recommending you to many other capable tutors," I muttered, hoping he'd understand what I meant. I simply had no time for such mundane things like tutoring.

"So?" Upon hearing that, my hopes were crashed as I let out another irritated sigh.

"It means that I can't tutor you because I'm busy and I have a life outside of the student council," I said as I tried not to snap at him. I don't really know if anyone could relate to me, but school—especially the people in it—loved testing my patience. I could even argue that it's gone and that I'm simply indifferent.

"Aw, that sucks! I heard you're amazing and that you're a wide-reader so I hoped you'd teach me your awesome ways, but I guess not," he groaned. What kind of micro-penis do you have for you to realize that I do not want anything to do with you, git?

"Flattery will get you nowhere in life, Mr. Jones. I appreciate the lovely compliments, although I believe you heard wrong," I huffed as I covered my half-eaten sandwich and shoved it inside my satchel. Honestly, I believe the only thing I could not ruin with my cooking skills would be things such as sandwiches, salads and cereal. People must think I was a healthy foods-freak and that I didn't have much of an appetite, but really, I simply could not cook without everyone criticizing my meals therefore I stopped bringing cooked meals to school.

"But you love reading classics by Morley," Alfred blurted out a little too quickly as he eyed my satchel.

I narrowed my eyes in response to his observation, surprised that he could even tell that Callaghan was one of the famous authors of the early twentieth century, along with Fitzgerald. In all honesty, I never expected him to recognize such names in literature. Earlier that morning, a friend of mine handed me a book, recommending it to me since he thought I'd be drawn by the plot. Strange Fugitive was in my list of books to read, although it wasn't particularly the first one. "That's not any of your business, arsehole. I'd appreciate it if you left me alone now since I have more pressing matters to see to."

"Sorry, but I'm not leaving you alone until you teach me," he replied, crossing his arms as he remained in his spot.

I scoffed, taking a look around, only to realize that the cafeteria was still filled with chaos caused by students who were standing on tables, shouting, screaming out lyrics of bubble-gum pop songs, causing my patience to dwindle all the more. Perfect…just…perfect. Where were the teachers that were supposedly on cafeteria duty? "Alright then," I began as I quickly got up and carried my satchel, "I guess I'll be going, then."

"Oh no, you don't," Alfred said as he instantly grabbed my wrist, preventing me from leaving. He flashed a smug, toothy smile as I tried to pull my wrist away from his vice-like grip.

And that was the last straw, my friends. I cherished my personal space more than anything in this materialistic world and since this stupid American decided to invade that, my patience snapped as I twisted my arm, sidestepped, and took a step forward, my arm connecting on his jaw as I pushed down and knocked him off his feet and onto the ground. Scowling down on him, I nudged him with my foot to check if he was alright before walking away.

I risked my position as the student council president, but during that point, I did not give a damn. He intruded my personal space without my permission, and even if they won't allow me to claim that as an act of self-defence, I was sure that I could pull some strings and make the school forget entirely about the whole situation. I did not require high school education since I've learned and tested out of several grades, but what I did require was a good cover.

It was all I could do since operations were currently slow and quite uninteresting.

Hey guys! This is my first time writing a multi-chaptered fic in English, so please feel free to correct my mistakes. It's currently unedited so I'm really sorry for the grammatical and spelling errors. I'll most likely update every other week because a) my parents are completely against writing and b) my parents want me to spend time in the sun since it's summer. Ew, the sun.

I've never actually read Strange Fugitive by Callaghan, because my parents don't like it when I read either, but I'm really interested in it. Callaghan's Canadian so woo~ Canadian pride go!

Should I continue this? I find the whole idea rather dry so let me know what you think. :) I'm also worried that Alfred and Arthur are OOC so really, I need to know what you guys think. :\

- Reilley