A/N: Hey, guys! I'm back with a new chapter! ^^

I gotta say, I was a little disappointed, I guess I was too optimistic... But I'd like to thank everyone who read, faved and followed and especially to those who took the time to review. Also, a big thank you to Malina for the Turing thing - you know what I'm talking about.

On another note, I'm working on another fanfic, obviously UKUS...or USUK...I'll see who'll be the top. Anyway, keep an eye open 'cause I'm gonna post it soon! It's called 'The Evil Comic' - the summary is in the end A/N.

Enjoy!

Chapter II

Amelia didn't get to take a proper look of what was going on, but the corner of her eye caught the sight of a particular cop. Supposedly cop. Or more likely, the sight of his eyebrows... 'Dude, they're thicker than Gregory's!' She also spotted, though for only a second, a tuft of lemony yellow. She assumed it was the man's hair, which she didn't have time to check.

"This way." Gregory whispered in his regular husky voice.

"But the exit is-"

"Trust me."

She pursed her lips, not really pleased. The businessman opened a door, expecting her to step into the newfound corridor. It was obviously a secret door, considering that it was framed into the wall in such a way that one would have easily mistaken it for the design of the hall. For a moment, she wondered why a casino would have needed such a secret exist. Then again, she trusted her partner wholeheartedly, so the doubts were disregarded right away and she made the first few steps. As he followed her, Hart closed the door behind them, sinking the place into pitch black. Amelia squeezed her eyes, trying to peer at the stairs. Pitiful attempt. She couldn't see anything. She brought a hand in front of her. Still nothing. The blonde pouted; now she had to walk based on her instincts and instincts alone. It couldn't have been so hard, could it? Heroes did it all the time in comics and movies. And she was a heroine herself! Or in the process of becoming one, anyway. With a new boast of enthusiasm, she made a step into the darkness. Much to her dismay, her shoe slipped on the stair, almost causing her to fall. A shriek echoed as she stretched her arms in search for something to hold on. Fortunately, the corridor was narrowed - two people couldn't walk side by side -, and she regained her balance. A sigh escaped her lips.

"Be careful."

"Trying. It'd be easier if I saw something."

The female trailed her fingers along the wall, on a short distance, but enough to guess its texture. Bricks - certainly bricks. There didn't seem to be anything to rub on her fingertips, nor something to fill the gaps between one and the next brick or to soften the material at the touch. It lacked dye. It also lacked bulbs or, at least, something to start a fire, maybe a torch. Probably too much to ask for. As if a bright idea struck him - although it was basically Amelia's comment -, Gregory lit up his lighter. So much better! Looking down, she could finally figure the stairs. They were made of stone and slightly uneven; not all of them had the same size, some stretched to a quarter metre while other stopped to a few inches. The edge of each of them was rather sloppy sculptured, line not straight. Small, almost unnoticeable holes dug into the stairs; however, they were enough for her heels to stuck into. So she did the easiest thing she could: she took off her shoes. Sure, the stones were cold and rough, but they didn't hold as much danger of slipping as they had had before.

Hart directed her towards the other end of the corridor. The further they walked, the more turns they had to take. It was like a labyrinth. It must have been half an hour by now, for the air seemed to get thicker by every breath. Her body started feeling heavier, although she still had lots of energy left. The atmosphere was strangely hot - wasn't it supposed to be colder in the basement...or wherever they were? They kept going down the path, the voices from the casino becoming shallow whispers if anything; soon, there was no other sound than their steps and breaths.

Arthur had had enough. His patience had grown thin during the ride to the casino and even thinner when he got nothing out of the mandate. His men had searched through every room they could find, but there was nothing wrong. Well, there were lots of wrong things, just not some that they could find. He started to think that Vargas somehow knew about their raid. Not very logical, seeing as he got the mandate about two hours ago...but still a possibility! Maybe they had a traitor among those who were approving the mandates. Lovino's impatience didn't help much, either. In fact, the Italian's frown and foot tapping only bothered him further.

"Done yet, bastard?"

Of course, Lovino had all the right to be annoyed by the intrusion. They had most likely destroyed a good night. Arthur couldn't care less, though. He chatted silently with one of his men, whom only informed him about the failure. Taking a glimpse at the casino's owner, he could have bet his tea that he had seen a victorious smirk on his face. The Latin behind him - the one telling him something in what Kirkland assumed to be Spanish - might have been the reason, but the blond had the feeling that Vargas was just making fun of them. Yes, he definitely knew about the raid. Nodding to the cop, the detective turned to the mob.

"We're done here." He announced loud enough for everyone to hear. "Now, you'll have to accompany us to the section."

"No."

"It's not up to you."

"You have no right to ask me that."

"Of course I do. I have a mandate on your name. Easy way: come willingly; hard way: I'll drag you there. Choose."

Arthur's voice hold no hint of a lie. He hoped that Lovino would buy it, thus maybe giving some information at the section. Just maybe, for the Italian wasn't fool enough to get himself behind the bars so easily. He could hear Francis swiftly approaching him and whispering so no one could hear: "You don't have a mandate for arrest." But Kirkland disregarded the reminder, keeping up his act. Whether Lovino heard his partner or it just didn't work, the young man still refused to obey. It had been worth a try, anyway.

Another row of Spanish words followed, something along the lines of 'Kick them out'. Obviously, the Italian had had enough too. They were not welcomed there. As if on clue, a canary flew around the blond, then towards the exist. Arthur took it as a confirmation, but the others seemed amused. What was so funny? Most of them tried to hide their chuckles, but the Frenchman - and the 'enemies' - wasn't so concerned.

"You have some shit on your shoulder."

Green eyes fell on the shoulder. Apparently, the canary wasn't confirming anything, but giving him a 'gift'. A stinky, sticky gift.

"Perfect."

After what seemed like hours, they had finally reached the end of the corridor. Although pale due to the moon, the light outside was still better. And the air was fresh! Relatively. There was a trashcan a few metres away, but it was little to no important.

Amelia shivered a little at the cool breeze. Compared to the corridor, the temperature decreased with a considerable amount of degrees. She rubbed her arms, attempting to warm up. Fortunately, Gregory was nice enough to place his jacket on her shoulders. She silently thanked him and tightened the piece of clothing around her. As she did so, she checked out the surroundings. They were in some alley, rather dirty, which caused her to put her shoes back on. Heels were not the ideal thing on muddy ground, but it was better than walked barefoot. Either way, she didn't recognise the area until Gregory leaded her down the path. They ended up right at the park where Hart left the car. The blonde sprinted up to the car, grateful that the man disabled the alarm immediately. The sunk into the front chair, spoiling herself into the welcoming warmth inside the vehicle. He joined her a moment later.

Half of the ride was spent in silence. There was no particular reason to it, more like a dozen of questions needing to be answered and a million explanations to be given. Almost impossible to choose just one thing.

"Would you like to stay over?"

Gregory's inquiry cut through the trance that Amelia was into. She had been staring out the window, not really paying attention to the landscape. She had been too focused on the incident at the casino.

"Hm?" The blond blinked at him.

"I asked if you would have liked to stay over? My place is near and I'm sure you'd find it comfortable. Besides, it'd be good to have someone by your side after...after what happened."

Amelia chewed on her lower lip. She knew what that proposal really meant; it was far from an innocent one, one concerned about her well-being, about her fear - not like she had any - or anything akin. They reached that point, didn't they? She hadn't been looking forward to it. Gregory looked good for his age, true; he surely had the touches too; yet, she didn't want it. She just didn't feel the need, nor did she feel ready.

"No, I'll be fine."

Hart glanced at her. A harsh blame burn into his eyes, which Amelia didn't quite catch. However, it would have been obvious for anyone else that he wanted it as soon as possible. They had been in a relationship for a while, he had been patient, given her time - he had been waiting enough. One could easily read the desire in the way he watched her. He sighed disappointed. He didn't want to push it tonight - it had been a rough night and it wouldn't have been wise.

"What happened, anyway?"

Gregory shrugged casually. He had expected this question, though. "I suppose it was just the police checking out the Vargas Casino. They do that to every casino once in a while. It's nothing to worry about."

"Then why did you hurry to get out? And that secret passage? It's fishy!"

"Amelia," he sighed once more. "I doubt that a police raid is anything nice to remember. I just wanted to spare you from such a memory."

"If you say so..."

It made some sense. Still dubious, though.

"Are you sure about this?" Gregory asked again as he parked in front of a building. It was old and its stability seemed questionable. The paint fell off on various places; graffiti covered the brick walls and the small spots of dye remained, only on the ground floor, though. A few windows were cracked or broken, giving the impression of a desolated building that no one lived in. Many lived there, though, the many who couldn't afford something better. With the university costs, Amelia was still one of them. She had refused on moving in with Hart for one reason: night activities. Alright, there was also the fact that, when he wasn't around, she could be fully herself, not having to pretend to be a lady.

In a last attempt, Gregory gently caressed her thigh. His hand felt rough against her tender skin. It gave her an unpleasant shiver, causing her to tense. The blonde, however, hid it behind an innocent smile.

"Yep. Totally." She beamed before undoing the seatbelt. They shared a quick kiss, then she stepped out the car. " 'Night!"

The narrowed alley leading to the building was as unsafe as it appeared to be. Once the car was out of sight, Amelia hurriedly made her way to the entrance. She could take care of herself - she just didn't feel like kicking someone for her own safety tonight. So she quickly climbed the stairs to the 2nd floor and stormed into her apartment. Locking the door behind her, she immediately tossed the shoes aside, not bothering to even use her hands. Walking towards the bedroom, she proceeded to remove the jewelry. She stopped in front of the mirror, staring at her own reflection for a long minute. That woman was nothing like her - apart from anatomical features and the hair colour. That woman looked classy and reserved; Amelia was energetically and full of life. She slowly undid the loop, allowing her strands to fall in waves to her shoulder. The dress followed suite, sliding down to the ground, then the lingerie. She took a quick shower, washing away all the fake mask and every scent associated to it. After drying herself, she pulled on a large shirt. It was simple, barely reaching her thighs and with the number 50 on the front.

As amusing as it had been, Gilbird's 'gift' didn't serve well to Maria. Hence why she was now in the interrogation room at the Interpol's headquarter.

"Let's try again," the detective spoke evenly, rubbing his temple. Really, she proved of no use, apart from a way of wasting a few hours worth of sleeping. "When does Vargas make the next move?"

"Dunno." Maria said with a shrug.

"Then where will it take place?"

"Dunno."

"Did he know about tonight's raid?"

"Possible."

"Who told him?"

"Someone."

"What's that someone's name?"

"I think his name was something like you-are-wasting-your-time." She smirked, placing her feet on the table and crossing her ankles.

"Take your feet off the table."

Maria rolled her eyes, but did so. "Listen." Suddenly, any hint of joke or tease faded from her face. "I've been trained not to spill anything. I won't do it, no matter what you say or do. You know it too. So make us both a favour and let me go."

"All say they won't give any information - they all eventually give."

"This is my case, okay?"

"Vargas is my case too."

"Well, it was mine first."

"Perhaps they passed it to me because you couldn't handle it."

Maria laughed as if Arthur had just said the best joke ever. "Couldn't handle it? The awesome me can handle anything!"

"Apparently you can't. Vargas is still free, doing whatever he pleases. On the other hand, agents and innocent people alike die because of him."

"Well, they wouldn't die if they stayed out of the way. So stay out of it!"

"You're in my way too. I start to think you changed sides."

"Think again. I'm not a traitor."

"Prove it."

"Not falling for it. I'm not gonna tell you anything."

"We shall see. I hope, for your best, that you will change your mind."

That being said, Arthur marched to the door. Once outside, he looked at his partner. "Your turn. Announce me tomorrow about what she said." He had spent too much time at work already; the soft mattress and puffy pillows were waiting him home, ready to welcome him with a warm embrace. Hopefully some sweet dreams too.

While Kirkland was on his way home, Francis took his coffee and entered the interrogation room. By now, everyone else left. Instead of using the chair, he seated himself on the table. Although he rarely smoke, he pulled out a pack of cigars, knowing that Maria did.

"Ah, the classic bad cop, good cop." She took a cigar with a smirk and placed it between her lips. The handcuffs attaching her left hand to the table made a high pitched noise as she moved. "Is this really necessarily?"

"A safety measure. Remember what happened last time?" Francis said with a shrug. He pulled out the lighter and lit the tobacco. He contemplated for a moment whether he should use the key and free his friend, eventually deciding on doing so.

Maria rubbed her wrist. "You could take them for later, though."

"Plans for tonight?"

"Yep. And now you have plans too."

It wasn't like a deal or anything akin to it to gain information. It was just fun. Fun without rules, without obligations - without commitments.

"What's new?"

It also wasn't like Maria to spill anything just because it was the 'good cop' asking the question. She was keen on keeping the case for herself. Why she was so serious about it, she wouldn't tell to anyone, not even Francis. The Frenchman was a real help, though. He provided her information about Arthur's movement beforehand; now, he wasn't a traitor, for Maria was also his colleague. The little detail regarding Kirkland's disagreement on their close relationship held no importance.

"Nothing much. I gotta get closer to find out more - like his bodyguard or something. Or fool Antonio, but he wouldn't say anything more than how cute Lovino is or how much he looks like a tomato when he blushes or gets angry... Stuffs like that." She groan, letting her head fall back. "He's nice, but useless when it comes to that..." Upon remembering an important detail, her eyes snapped back to the blond. "By the way, you didn't tell me about the mandate!"

"I didn't know about it either."

"You're just as useless..."

"Cold!"

The reproach won nothing more than a shrug and an indifferent look.

"What else? Is Arthur up to any other surprises?"

"Maybe. You can never be sure when he's in such a bad mood."

"Well, you called him by that nickname..."

"But he has sexy legs! Anyway, it's because of the psychologist. Once they find a replacement, they'll send him to another centre. In Canada, I think."

"Too bad, he's kinda cool. Wait, they didn't find anyone yet?"

"Non."

Her lips curled into a sly smirk. "I think I might know someone." She said in that sweet, lingering voice that had never brought anything innocent.

It was finally morning and...raining. Despite the false stereotype of London being a place where the rain poured six days a week, today seemed to identify with the stereotype. Heavy drops had been whipping the windows for hours, only recently slowing down. Greyish clouds still covered the sky, barely making space for a few shy sun rays. The pale light slipped through the wet glass, falling on the sleeping figure's face. Lying on the soft mattress, wrapped into white sheets, was a man. Golden strands were messily scattered around his head, lips slightly parted and nose almost completely buried into the pillow. A hand rested loosely a few inches from his nose. He looked so ironically innocent.

Beep. The lips united and parted again a couple times as his eyes flushed open. Lime-green orbs, still fogged by sleep, focused on a small device placed on the bedside. Beep. His hand reached out to stop the alarm. Arthur sat up and stretched with a yawn. After such a long day, the sleep had been so sweet! It would have been sweeter if he had had someone special to share the bed with, but he couldn't afford it. Agents didn't have a personal life, didn't get attached to anyone new and would stay away from their dear ones - after all, a rival could take advantage, they would put those people in danger. It was the first unwritten rule he had been taught. He was not selfish enough to break it for a little comfort at night. But it was too much of a wonderful morning to have such thoughts! Apart from the raining... Well, nothing new in that. Pushing the depressing reminder aside, the blond crawled out the bed. He made his way to the bathroom and turned on the shower. While waiting for the water to get warm, he chose his clothes for the day: a pair of bluejeans, a shirt with various objects colourfully printed - headphones, musical notes, curves, graffiti and whatnot; the design didn't make any sense, but it looked funny - and with a text that said 'The BEST of UK'. After carefully placing the items down, he stripped and slipped under the shower. The water rolled down his toned frame; he wasn't a buff guy, just perfectly built.

Half an hour later, he was all fresh and clean. And dry. By the time he was ready, the rain had stopped too, allowing the sun to shine bright and warm up the wet ground. He jumped in his sneakers and pulled on a black leather jacket. The difference between his all formal attire at work and the casual or punk one he wore in his free time, that difference was huge. One would say it wasn't the same person. Then again, his whole personality was a series of contrasts, showing based on the situation and place. Perhaps that was the reason why no one had managed to fully read or understand him yet. He didn't mind.

Once in a while, Arthur would serve the tea at a cafe a few blocks away. It was a cosy little place at the intersection of two streets. Maybe today he would take the breakfast there too. He contemplated the idea as he walked to the cafe.

You know, I always thought stereotypes were kind of ridiculous,

So I wrote a song about it

And it goes a little something like this:

I think I love you more

Than a Japanese loves tentacle porn

And we should

Dance, dance, dance, d-d-dance

To these stereotypes!

Let's come together and live in this world

Like a uni-brow on an Indian girl

And we should-

Amelia groaned, letting her hand to slip off the phone. The alarm song had always amused her, but there were times when she just didn't want to get off the bed. She rolled on the other side, hugging the pillow even tighter. She especially didn't want to wake up when she had a nice dream - and she just had one! It went something like this: she had just finished knocking out the last bad guy, thus being the heroine of the day and, like any hero, she got her sweet lover. Not the knight in shining armour riding a white horse, she didn't need a knight to save her; it was just the guy who'd always be by her side and cheer her while she kicked ass and did her heroic stuff and then await her in a shining car. Yup, that was more like it! And the lover in the shining car was so handsome...supposedly. She hadn't really seen his face or built, but he had to be! All she saw was his hair, his dark strands with tints of grey... 'Wait, he was blond. And had some really weird eyebrows!' Amelia jumped on her feet, frantically shaking her head.

"No,no,no!"

Something was not right! The guy should have been Gregory, or her crush from high school or even from middle school. Hell, even the cute guy next door. Certainly not... She didn't even know his name!

"Dude, that's so not cool."

With a pout, she stomped to the bathroom, partly to get the morning shower, partly to wash away that dream. Apparently, it worked. By the time she finished, the blond agent had left her mind. The woman quickly pulled on a pair of shorts and a top knotting just above her midriff. She thought whether she should have changed the shirt, but decided to keep it. She would take a jacket, anyway, so if they wouldn't let her enter the University building - again -, she would zip up the jacket. She would have opted for a skirt or maybe a dress, had she not have baseball practice after the classes. Amelia was the only girl in the team, which caused her colleagues to often joke about her or hit on her. Too bad for them that she was second best player, fact that always shut them up. As for their attempts to flirt, she was either oblivious to it or pretended to be. Anyway, she played better when she wore shorts - also not giving the guys a nice view to her underwear. They were lucky enough to stare at part of her chest, though...

The blonde glanced at the clock. She still had an hour to waste, so she put on her sneakers, grabbed her bag and headed to the cafe where she took her breakfast almost everyday. In a few minutes, she was there and burst in with a huge grin on her face.

"Your heroine is here!" All eyes turned to her, some confused, some assuming that she was an idiot. Ignoring them, Amelia pointed to the waitress. "I want a hamburger and a coffee!" The waitress was already used to her entrance, as well as her order. It was a miracle she didn't get overweight with all the fast-food she ate. Next, the American's gaze averted to her usual seat. She frowned when she saw it occupied. Who did the guy think he was to take her seat?! He looked familiar, maybe because of his hair... Damn, the memory of the dream came back!

A/N: Time for reminder! 'The Evil Comic' - summary:

Every country had a dark side. During the World Wars, the evil side of every country grew more and more until it became a physical being. For once, the states united to fight a common enemy - the ones they called the Parallel Nations or 2p. After an exhausting battle, the Magic Trio managed to throw a powerful curse at them and look them forever. However, they forgot one thing...all three of them had copies among the Parallels, 2p that hold the same skills as them.

Many years after, a few of the Parallels broke free. It was time for them to take over the world and destroy their originals. And what better way than locking them into a universe where they held no power and then crush them like worms? After all, everyone knew about America's love for comics and heroes. When Alfred was given a comic as a gift, one made specially for him, one where he was the hero, he was oblivious to the trap. Now, he found himself literally sunk into the comic, needing to become the hero in order to survive. And the fact that some other lives - more importantly, England's - were on the line too wasn't of any help. But perhaps it was better that he wasn't all alone.

So...? Also, suggestions about what other nations or 2p you'd like in the new fic are welcomed.