Symphony of the Psychotic Chapter 2: Mock Turtle Café, a hetalia - axis powers fanfic

Shinigami-cat: Hey guys! Well, here's my next chapter for this. I really hope you all are liking this so far. Also, some people have noticed that I have used a lot of the dialogue from Alice Madness Returns in the prologue. That is because it was that particular part that inspired me to write this whole thing. It's not some weird spinoff of the game, so don't worry. The song used is White Rabbit by Egypt Central… I OWN NOTHING!

Mock Turtle Café

Two days ago there was a house fire in the small country town of Burton, situated on the River Brue. Of the five members of the family that were within the house at the time, five died. All died in their sleep and found tucked in their beds. The smoke had gotten to them first, leaving nothing but charred skeletons.

Only one member of the family is alive and until a few hours she was suspected to have started the blaze. That was until the agency got a ransom note, straight from the kidnappers themselves.

The note was signed in animal blood by the three worst gangs of the British underworld. The Cards, Checkers and Chess. These gangs are highly dangerous and for that reason it's in your interest to go undercover until such time as the case is over. You are too meet our double agent at the Mock Turtle Café. Code name Cheshire.

It is in the best interest of the agency that she is brought back alive. This reason cannot be disclosed at the current time. Good luck, Looking-glass, AKA Arthur Kirkland.

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Arthur frowned a little as he read and re read the letter sent to him by the agency. He calmly tossed the letter into his fire place and let the letter crackle and burn as he drank his tea. He was used to getting these kinds of cases. It had been two years since he attempted suicide and one year since he had been allowed to leave the asylum.

After that he was forced back the agency into working cases again. Not that he could blame them for wanting him back. He was the best at what he did. That was why the agency hired him after all. Though this case was exceedingly unusual.

For one, the agency didn't supply the name, age or a photograph of the girl he was meant to collect. She was an enigma. A mystery. A silent whisper in the wind. It both disturbed and excited him. A new challenge for him, but going to meet someone at the Mock Turtle? That was in one of the nasty parts of London.

There was a knock at the door. Frowning, Arthur slowly got up and walked to the door. Standing there was a Steam Droid. A rather miraculous invention really. They were anatomic beings powered by steam. Most were created to drive the carriages that cluttered the streets of London, but if the wrong people got their hands on them there could be disastrous consequences.

From the silk ribbon tied around the Droid's top hat, Arthur could tell immediately that it was an escort. Probably going to take him to the Mock Turtle, or at least drop him off close to it as they do.

"I am to take Arthur Kirkland to his destination." Said the Droid in its off mechanical voice.

Arthur nodded and walked out to the carriage, complete with awkward looking steam powered horse. It turned its head in a clipped, timed way as to attempt to simulate a horse. Signing, Arthur climbed into the back and waited for the Droid to take him to his destination. Sitting next to him in the carriage was a large box tied up with a red ribbon. He took off the lid and watched as a card fell out. He picked up the card and quickly read over the gold scribble on the back.

Wear me.

He sighed a little as he looked through the disguise that the agency had given him to wear today. He had been given a black button up shirt, forest green vest, black leather coat, a belt covered with all manner of miss matched junk, goggles and a pair of thick leather boots. "Of course." Muttered Arthur. "This is just like them… making me dress like one of those underclass punks all in the name of work."

He pulled on the clothes and waited for the ride to end. As he waited he looked out the window and watched as the people and the places rolled by. London had entered a golden age of steam technology. Everything was powered by some kind of steam mechanism or tightly wound spring. The fashion of the day expressed this too.

The upper class wore an array of fashionable Victorian garments and enjoyed the finer things in life, while middle and underclasses wore much more junked clothing. Garments made to look like those from the upper class but with a much more mechanical and makeshift nature, created from mismatched leather, copper cogs, old corsets and random, decorative junk. This style was known as Steam punk.

Arthur was not a huge fan of it. The style was too mismatched for his tastes. He much preferred the prim and proper attire of his fellow man of proper English society. Though, if he must dress like a degenerate, than he would. It was part of his job.

Soon the light hearted and whimsical nature of the good and proper face of London changed to the darkened and more dangerous tones of the London he preferred to ignore. Looters, thief's, swindlers and all manner of man and woman lived in these parts.

The carriage lurched to a halt hours after later, signalling that he had arrived. With a sigh, Arthur climbed out, stepping into a puddle. "Bloody hell…"

This place was less than dismal. It was appalling. Urchins pickpocketed the unaware, prostitutes happily sold their backsides on street corners, black market dealers stood in alleyways with their thick trench coats on ready to sell their illegal goods and beggars sat along the walls and begged for money. The whole set up made Arthur's skin crawl and his stomach turn.

He started to make his way to the Mock Turtle Café. Mock Turtle was well known for its cheap food, strong alcohol and surprisingly comfortable beds. It was more like a pub than a café, but no one complained.

Arthur made his way into the café and took a seat outside. Perhaps he was early and would meet Cheshire soon. Whoever the man or woman was. The agency had a habit of naming its employees strange names. His own code name was Looking Glass.

As he waited he noticed a beggar on the street. This one was wearing a hooded cloak so his face was hidden and playing something that looked like a guitar. 'At least he's not outright begging.' Thought Arthur. He looked over at the beggar as he strummed his guitar and started to sing.

Your magic white rabbit
Has left it's writing on the wall
We follow like Alice
And just keep diving down the hole

You can't face your broken promise
Our ties have come undone
I will not be used to be battered and abused
It's the reason why I choose to cut my losses
Your lies fool no one
Your magic white rabbit
Your white room straight jacket

Your magic white rabbit
Has left it's writing on the wall
We follow like Alice
And just keep diving down the hole
We're falling and we're losing control
Your pulling us and dragging us down this dead end road
We follow like Alice
And just keep diving down the hole

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" Asked a French voice.

Arthur looked up and frowned a little. There standing across from him was a man with shoulder length blond hair and blue eyes. He wore the same style of clothes as he did, except his under shirt was a dark red, and his vest was a navy blue. He also wore some kind of black and gold decorative gas mask on his face that only covered the lower part of his face. It annoyed Arthur to no end.

"Ravens eat worms and a writing desk is worm ridden." Muttered Arthur. "Cheshire I presume?"

"That would make you, Looking- glass." Said the Frenchman, sitting down across from Arthur. He sighed a little and extended his gloved hand. "I'm Cheshire, though you can call me Francis."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but shook the Frenchman's hand anyway. "Whatever… Call me Arthur. I never liked that Looking- glass nonsense… So do you have any information on the girl or not?"

Francis sighed a little. "I guess the time has come my little friends to talk of other things… Of shoes, ship and ceiling wax, cabbages and kings… and why the sea is boiling hot and weather pigs have wings."

"Bloody frog." Muttered Arthur. "Why do they call you Cheshire anyway?"

"The same reason they call you Looking-glass I guess." Said Francis. He took a deck of cards out of his pocket and shuffled them a little. "The world's divided into black and white. Right and wrong. Poor and rich. The fortunate prey upon the unfortunate and those who are weak."

'Of course the agency pairs me up with some insane lunatic.' Thought Arthur bitterly.

Francis turned the cards over. "Kings and Queens rule the world while the Jacks, the religious have a steady hand in their affairs. Going down the line the you have your upper class that are better off than the lowest, unless you are the Ace. The Ace is always here and there. He is good and he is bad." As Francis rambled on and on about everything and nothing, Arthur listened to the beggar play his music again.

You can't offer your poison to me
In your kingdom of filth
White Rabbit
Straight jacket

I won't be pushed aside
I will be heard
I will get what I want
What I deserve

"Are you even listening to me?" Asked Francis.

"Sorry, but I grow tired of listening to blithering idiots." Said Arthur coldly. "I don't like this place. Why couldn't we meet somewhere better, more…?"

"Sophisticated?" Asked Francis. "Somewhere more discrete perhaps? Well I'm sorry. I don't take strangers to my home."

"Even if we're from the agency?" Asked Arthur.

"Especially if you're from the agency." Said Francis. He sighed a little and stood up. "Well, I guess we could go to the meeting place they set up for us… At least there we can be in more private quarters and I can give you a debriefing."

"Sounds like a plan." Muttered Arthur. The pair of them got up and left Mock Turtle and walked down the street. As they walked, Arthur threw a couple of coins into the singing beggar's guitar case.

We're falling and we're losing control
Your pulling us and dragging us down this dead end road

Your magic white rabbit
Has left it's writing on the wall
We follow like Alice
And just keep diving down the hole
Diving down the hole

Once they were out of ear shot, Francis started to chuckle. "What is it frog?"

"I'd advise against giving money out like that." Said Francis. "Beggars that know you have money are more likely to try and rob you blind when you aren't looking." Arthur highly doubted that Francis was right, but didn't want to prove the Frenchman right either.

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The pair entered a rundown apartment building and walked into one of the rooms. The whole place looked burnt down and mouldy. It was gross. Arthur didn't like the dank, damp air that hung thickly in the air.

"Come on frog. What do you have to tell me about the girl?" He asked. "Why was she kidnapped? Who is she? Tell me everything you know."

Francis shrugged and pulled a leather suit case out from under a mouldy pile of sheets. He placed them onto a charred metal table and opened it up. "I know very little about this case, just that she was not originally kidnapped. I just know she followed a man out of her house the night it was set alight."

"Who was this man?" Asked Arthur. He was eager for a lead.

"A mystery man." Said Francis. "He's… A difficult man to find. He's not found unless he wishes to be. Those in the loop know him as White Rabbit. A professional abductor, mercenary, hit man… a jack of all trades if you would. He works underground… very underground. Find the White Rabbit and you'll find the girl." He turned the suit case around.

Inside was a large dagger with an intricate design on the blade. Arthur picked it up by the copper coloured handle and swung it through the air. "So the agency has decided that a blade is better for me than a gun?"

"It's a new kind of blade." Said Francis. "It's called the Vorpal blade. It's strong, durable, can cut through almost everything, never get dull and one whip with a rag and it'll be better than new… One, two! One, two! And through and through. The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head he went galumphing back."

"Poetry aside, you have been slightly useful." Muttered Arthur. "Where do I need to be to find the White Rabbit and will you be joining me on my mission?"

Francis chuckled and put away the suit case. "Assist you, yes… But join you? I don't think so. I don't have a death wish. I'll be there from time to time to help you and offer you advice, but when the heat is on I'm gone."

Arthur scoffed. "Spoken like a true Frenchman." He hid the vorpal blade under the folds of his clothes. "So where must I go? Is there some dank hovel in this miserable place I must explore?"

"Yes… and no…" Said Francis. "The best way to explain it would be something like this… To find a human one must look on land and sea, sometimes air… but to find a rabbit one must look underground. If you want to find the rabbit you must look at Under London."

Arthur shivered at the thought. "I guess that makes sense… I must go to the world of the crime lords to find the girl they have gotten this rabbit to abduct. Pity. I'm not looking for a fight."

"Well one is most definitely looking for you." Purred Francis in a cat like manner. It made Arthur's skin crawl.

"Whatever. Take me to where I need to go and I'll be on my way." Muttered Arthur. "Wretched creature."

"I don't mind being wretched as long as I'm content." Said Francis in a smug tone.

"You're insufferable."

"And you're just as delusional and lethal as you ever were." Shot back Francis. "I know about your cases. There's hardly a single one where someone wasn't killed as collateral or by some strange accident."

Arthur glared at the Frenchman. "Unless you'd like to lose your tongue I suggest that you shut it."

"Touchy subject for you isn't it?" Asked Francis. "Oh well, times ticking slowly away… We must get going. I'll show you the way, but the other paths you must choose yourself."

'Why do I always get paired up with the loony people?'

TBC

Shinigami-cat: Well I really hope you all liked this chapter, it was lots of fun to write. Please review.