Hello! Since my computer is now shot, the one with the 40+ chapters I prepared the past month for this month, I decided to publish a few new stories before I get all that data back in disc form. I'm sincerely sorry, and I feel like I wasted the past month completely and utterly, but I'll get all those things published soon, hopefully. But in the meantime, enjoy these!
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia
SLASH!
CRACK!
"AAAAAHHHH" the hooker screams, running as fast as her clacking heels will take her to get away from the scene. Anyone would want to get away from that dark alley on that moonless night.
With only a flickering lamp light, the bloody killer growls deeply in his throat. After walking into the open street, he lets the large and now red butchers' knife slip out of his hand, dropping onto the cold paved ground with a CLANG!
He himself drops to one knee, clenching his rotting teeth in anger and hatred. Clutching his mostly separated arm, trying to help the remaining muscle hold onto his shoulder. "DAMN YOU, MOTHERFUCKER!" he screams in agony and fury.
"HOW DARE YOU DISTURB ME?"
"How dare I? Maybe because you were killing innocent women," a brunette weakly chuckles in Italian, the other too furious even try to make sense of it. "Well, maybe not so innocent, but innocent of the acts you have committed," he speaks again, this time in English, half-jokingly.
"You're making fun and disrespecting my justice?" the man accused, although it was more statement than question. "Yes, since you so fucking screwed up in the head. Justice? I protect the law of Justice. Following your own selfish justice is contradictory not only to the definition but also our great and fair justice," he replies.
"SCREW YOU!" he screams again, shaking in pure anger. With much struggling and fueled by the hot flame of rage, he stands once more. He wobbles and totters, but his will for revenge is too strong for his physical condition to hold him back.
"You want more? After I pretty much severed your writing arm and shot you three times in the abdominals, 5 in the legs and back and once in the shoulder? Very persistent, I'm impressed, but it's all for not," the Italian responded, not at all scared of the wobbling and trembling, bloody man slowly inching toward him with a face even the devil would run from.
"Are you forgetting I stabbed you 7 times? How can you even still stand, hell, why are you even still conscious? Matter of fact, I don't even know who the fuck you are!" the brawny killer screeched. The brunette laughed, ferocious green eyes glinting in the dim lighting.
"You would only know of me if I wanted you to!""Impossible! My network is-unless!""Yes," the brunette answered, "I am the head of the Secret FBI Division of Special Cases. Call me Puttanta if you want, you're going to go insane soon enough. Jail for Mass Manslaughter and Abuse of Narcotics."
"W-what? I never used-""But I can't let anyone remember my face, so you're now a stoner. I'm so lucky I brought the Heroine. All Heroes need one."
The man got even more furious. "So you think of yourself as a hero and that you get to do whatever you want?" he snarled. "You certainly did, but no. I'm not a hero. That's just something stuck in my head because of the useless Chief of the NYCPD. And I don't do what I want, I do what's right."
"FUCK YOU! YOU WON'T HAVE ME!"
"MERZO!"
SPLURT!
"But Chief!" begged the Italian. The man he was begging behind a large desk piled with papers, undoubtable important documents from very high people. This man, however, ignored his pleas. "You are severely injured, Secret Agent Vargas. I have no choice."
"But you do have a choice! And what about my team! It would be too great of a burden!" he continued. "Agent Vargas!" the other, older man, snapped. "Although I said you wouldn't be acting as Secret Chief for the remainder of your recovery, I never said your duties as a Secret Investigator would be stopped," he whispered.
After a look of confusion passed the younger's face, he continued to elaborate. "You and your team will be going undercover at a prestigious High School in search of the person responsible for the teacher killings," he explained. The other nodded.
He was handed the case file, and was about to leave, when the Chief stopped him. "Good job catching the Hooker Butcher," the balding man said. "Grazie. How is he doing by the way?"
"He only whispers things about a 'Green Grim reaper.' I wonder who that is? He's in a straightjacket now and I hear he converted to Christianity. At least they can handle him with only one arm," he replied smirking. He turned in his swivel chair to stare at the fag hanging liply from a rod.
The Italian brunette matched his smirk, snatching his long, dark green coat from the hook and leaving with case file in hand.
"Belle, Lars, Elizaveta, Gilbert, Kiku, Scotty, Katyusha! We got a job!"