THIS IS SPARTA.

...oh, and it's also the next chapter. xD Thanks for all of the reviews, guys! I love you! ^^

PLEASE READ THIS NOTE: After today, I may not be able to update daily anymore due to school-related matters (ugh) so the updating MAY have to turn weekly. I apologize for this inconvenience; I want to update as much as you want me to. :) Just letting you know... :(

Chapter 7: Operation: Bomb and Injury Disposal

Arthur and Alfred stared at the bomb before realization kicked in. They had to get this thing out of here. Pretty damn fast.

"Arthur!" Alfred asked, panicked. "You're a freaking assassin! Can't you disable it or something?" There wasn't much time left.

"Not with the amount of time we're given!" Arthur yelled back, equally as panicked. Then, the Brit whipped his head around to the window. Alfred followed his gaze and knew just what the Brit was thinking.

"Arthur, no! Don't you dare jump out that window!" Alfred yelled, but Arthur was much too fast. The Brit darted to the window, opened it, and jumped out, landing on the wet street of the alley beneath him, taking the bomb with him. Alfred ran to the window and yelled, "Arthur! What the hell are you doing?"

The Brit, running in the distance, didn't turn back. Instead, he just screamed, "Stay back and protect the others! That's your job, isn't it?" The American was about to retort, when Arthur added something that made his blood run cold.

"You live to protect! I live to kill, so by God, I'm going to die murdered!"

And Arthur disappeared into the night. Alfred found himself unable to move, unable to breath, as he sank to the floor of his room, clutching his bomber jacket like a child would clutch a teddy bear.

Why? Why am I just so useless when the chips are down and it matters most?

Not long afterwards, a huge explosion was seen and heard in the huge river nearby. It was a beautiful, orange color, with little dots of red and sometimes purple. The sound was deafening. Alfred's breath hitched in his throat, and he sat there, waiting for about a minute.

It felt like an eternity. And Arthur didn't come out.

"Enjoy the fireworks?" A voice came from the doorway. Alfred jumped and whipped his head around to the doorway.

Natalia Braginsky stood there, leaning against the door frame, a smug look gracing her beautiful features. Alfred blinked and stood as realization dawned on him.

Security is so hyped up here that the FBI probably couldn't get in.

Ivan had to have had somebody on the inside.

...oh, God, Alfred thought as he glared daggers her. "...You. You traitor."

Natalia shrugged. Then, she smirked heavily. "Boo."

She ran towards Alfred, and the American readied himself for a fight. However, Natalia missed him completely and jumped right over him, out the open window and into the night. Alfred cursed heavily and followed her.

The night was cold and crisp on his cheeks. Alfred chased after Natalia's disappearing form. The white-haired woman looked back. Upon seeing that the American was hot on her trail, she cursed and knocked over a few trash cans, in the hope of slowing him down. However, she missed one important detail.

This was Alfred. Alfred F. Jones.

You don't fuck around with him, especially when you just might have murdered his love interest.

The American dodged the trash cans narrowly, leaping up to dodge one, rolling onto the floor to dodge another, and almost-but-not-quite running on the wall to dodge the last one. Natalia growled and took out her guns. She launched a couple of shots at Alfred, who dodged them perfectly, and took out his gun as well, shooting at the disappearing form of Natalia Braginsky.

Soon enough, the two came to a dead-end, and Alfred smirked. He cocked his gun and pointed it directly at her, pure hatred burning in his eyes.

"You traitor," he murmured. "I can't believe you."

Natalia laughed and dropped her guns, which had ran out of bullets a while ago. "You're funny."

That was it. The last straw. He reloaded his gun and came up towards her, pointing it at her neck. "You killed Arthur."

She continued to laugh, despite the gun at her throat. Then, she sent an uppercut straight into Alfred's jaw, and the American, blinded by hatred, hadn't expected it. He reeled back, clutching his bloodied jaw.

"Bitch," he mumbled, then proceeded to attack. He dropped his gun and went straight for her, launching a punch at her face, which she dodged. Natalia jutted her leg out in the hopes of tripping Alfred, but the American jumped over it. She cursed and attempted to punch Alfred in the gut, which he narrowly dodged. Then, Alfred leaped over her and dropped down behind her. He sent a bone-shattering blow to her back, and she let out a large "oof!", which was accompanied by a sickening crunch.

Natalia fell to the cold alleyway, clutching her stomach. Alfred turned her over with his foot and stepped on her stomach, rage burning in his eyes. Her cold, dastardly eyes met his, and when she laughed, she coughed up blood. Alfred winced.

"Are you going to kill me, Jones?" she asked, blood running down her mouth. "Or does that go against your entire hero complex shit?"

Alfred pulled out his gun from his pocket and pointed it at her. She laughed, throwing her head back.

"Can I ask one last question, before you blow my brains out?" Natalia asked, and Alfred's eyes flashed before he nodded. She smirked. "What are you afraid of? Come on, everyone's got a fear."

Alfred cocked his gun and leaned down to shove it in her neck. She let out a sharp cry of pain, before looking up. "Answer the question. Come on...Spiders? Death? Snakes? Scorpions? Come on," she drawled. "I'm going to die anyway. At least give me a good answer."

The American thought for a while before answering. "I'm not afraid of anything," he stated confidently.

The Belarusian rose an eccentric eyebrow before asking, "What about love, Alfred, hmm? Are you in love?"

All it took was a tiny flicker. The tiniest hint of hesitation. The smallest twitch upward of the lips. Natalia caught it, and she smiled.

"Ah, you are," she said, and Alfred made a disgusted sort of sound. She laughed again. "You're in love right now, I can tell. Let me guess. Hmm...Kirkland?"

Well, no dip, Sherlock, Alfred wanted to say, but for once, restrained his tongue. He cocked the gun again, and pushed the gun deeper into her throat. She laughed. Alfred swore he had never seen anyone so giddy about their last moments of life.

"I knew it," she said. "Love is a weakness, you know. Just look where it got me."

Alfred winced. The Belarusian shrugged her shoulders and said, "You can kill me now, Jones." The American blinked, then sighed and stood up, tucking the gun into his pocket. Natalia rose her eyebrow.

"What's wrong? I killed Kirkland. You should kill me."

Alfred chuckled, but there was no humor in it. Instead, he kicked her once more, reveling in her grunt of blinding pain, and said, "But that would make me no better than you."

Natalia eventually fell unconscious, and Alfred carried her body back to HQ. He took the body to Kiku's office and explained the situation to him. Kiku told Alfred that he would take care of things, and dismissed the American bodyguard. And by "take care of things", Alfred hoped he meant prison. Prison for a long time. That, and maybe she could get them information on Ivan.

And he made his way back to Room 103A, his one hope being that Kirkland was alive, and was waiting to insult him on the other side of the door.

~Operation: Bomb and Injury Disposal~

Kiku Honda sighed. He had placed Natalia in a cell after he had gotten over the shock of having been betrayed, and had ordered a few of his employees to check for any more bombs surrounding the building, or even in it. He waited anxiously for the call on the walkie-talkie.

Suddenly, it crackled.

"Sir?"

"...Yes?" Kiku asked, fists clenched tightly.

"There seems to be three more bombs on the premises. Each has about four minutes before they explode, though, unlike the one Jones and Kirkland found."

Kiku's breath hitched, but he calmed himself long enough to give orders and remain in the chain of command.

"Take them out."

"Yes, sir."

~Operation: Bomb and Injury Disposal~

Alfred made it back to his room and looked around. No sign of Arthur. He breathed in, then out again, and sank to the floor, covering his ears with his hands.

He could still hear the explosion. It rang in his ears, like a bell that refused to be silent. The loudest boom he had heard in the world.

He sat there for a while, hands covering in his ears, as if it was the end of the world.

Arthur returned two minutes later, and saw Alfred sitting in the corner, hands covering his ears. The American's eyes were screwed shut. He tilted his head, amused.

The British assassin slowly sauntered up to the American bodyguard and knelt down next to him. "Alfred?" he asked, tugging at the American's bomber jacket. "Jones? Hello?" Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes, then without thinking, blew in Alfred's ear. The American immediately shot right up and screamed.

"GYAAAAAAAH!"

"GYAAAAAAAAH!"

"...oh," Alfred said as soon he saw it was only Arthur, who was by now half-way across the room, terrified of Alfred's sudden outburst. "What the hell, Arthur? Don't sneak up on me like that! I was terrified, man!"

Arthur, who had regained a good portion of his brain, blinked in disbelief and scoffed. "You're scared? Look at me, I'm fucking terrified!"

The two took a moment to breathe, when realization dawned on Alfred.

"You're alive!" Alfred exclaimed, standing up. Arthur stood as well, brushing dust and ash off of him.

"Well, yeah," he said nonchalantly, but let out a surprised sort of noise when Alfred devoured him in a hug. Arthur attempted to break it, but Alfred spoke.

"Thank God. I thought you were dead," the American exulted into the assassin's trench coat. "Thank God."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "...so what? Would you miss me if I was dead?" he asked, smirking. The American pulled away and smiled that brilliant smile of his.

"Of course," he said. Arthur laughed, and then flinched in pain as the American's hand went to his left arm. Alfred, alarmed, looked towards his arm and had a sharp intake of breath.

"You're hurt," Alfred realized, letting go of the Brit's arm immediately. Arthur scowled.

"I'm fine," he said. "Just a cut...I fell in the water while getting rid of the bomb, and my arm scraped against something. No big deal. ...What are you doing?"

Alfred proceeded to unbutton the Brit's trench coat, despite his immediate protests. He threw the trench coat to the ground. Then, Alfred lifted Arthur's sleeve and gasped.

"God, you're not fine, Arthur," he said, taking in the wound. It was almost the entire length of his arm, and blood was spilling from it even as they spoke. Dried blood had clotted around it, making it look even worse.

"I can patch up my own wounds, thank you."

"Well, I won't let you," Alfred insisted, and made Arthur sit on the bed. "This cut...God, don't hide things like this from me!"

Arthur's eyes flashed and he looked to his lap, frowning, feeling humbled and contrite, and awful that he had made Alfred worry, though he would never admit that.

"I'm sorry," Arthur mumbled. Alfred was pleasantly surprised at the apology and smiled at the Brit.

"Don't worry, Arthur," he said, crossing the room to retrieve his medical kit from underneath his couch. "I'll fix you right up."

"I'm even more worried now," Arthur dead-panned, but there was a good-natured humor in his voice.

~Operation: Bomb and Injury Disposal~

Francis and Matthew followed the scanner into a storage room. The bomb was in here.

"North," Francis said, and the two headed that way. Suddenly, the scanner blinked to life, indicating that they were right where the bomb was.

"But...where is it?" Matthew asked, looking around. Suddenly, he blinked, and sighed as he looked upwards. Yeah, it was on the top shelf.

"Merde," Francis cursed, and Matthew nodded his agreement. Then, he got an idea.

"Francis!" he ordered, and the Frenchman immediately turned to the Canadian, eyebrow raised. "Stand here. I'll climb onto your shoulders and grab it."

Francis snickered, and Matthew groaned. "No dirty jokes right now, please!" Francis nodded, remembering the gravity of the situation, and stood where Matthew said to stand. The Canadian then climbed up onto Francis's shoulders.

He's surprisingly light, Francis realized, as Matthew stood straight up and balanced himself on the Frenchman's shoulders. "Do you see it?"

"Yes!" Matthew said. "Two minutes and thirty seconds! We have to..whoa...whoa!" The two let out an undignified cry as Matthew lost his balance and the two toppled onto the hard floor. Luckily, Matthew had the bomb.

"Ow!" the Canadian moaned, lifting himself up off of the floor. "I fell on my coccyx." Francis rose an eyebrow, amused, and chuckled.

"Hehe...you said-"

"Oh, grow up!" Matthew scolded, but allowed himself a little chuckle before turning to face the bomb. "One minute, forty-five seconds..."

He quickly got to work, taking a hair pin out of his hair and a pair of scissors out of his pocket. Francis looked over him.

"...Green wire."

"Got it."

"Red wire."

"Check."

"Now, cross over the-"

"-blue one with the white one," Matthew finished, nodding, and proceeded to do just that. The ticking promptly halted, and the numbers on the screen turned black. Bomb 1 was out.

Matthew and Francis let out a huge sigh of relief and collapsed back onto the floor, laughing.

Francis turned to the Canadian. "Are you sure you aren't an assassin? You're good at this entire bombs ordeal."

Matthew shook his head. "No," he answered, laughing. "I'm just a computer geek."

Francis laughed in response before contacting Kiku on the walkie talkie. It crackled to life.

"Bomb 1's down, Kiku."

"Excellent."

~Operation: Bomb and Injury Disposal~

"This is insane," Alfred said while carefully stitching Arthur's wound together. "You aren't even flinching."

"I've done this to myself many times," the Brit explained. Alfred chuckled.

"Why am I not surprised?" the American asked the air, and Arthur wanted to punch him. The two sat in a companionable silence for a while, before it felt awkward and Arthur just had to break it.

"So...you'd miss me if I was dead?" he asked, and Alfred halted his stitching before meeting Arthur's gaze.

"Uh-huh," he said, and went back to stitching.

"Why?" Arthur asked, still not satisfied with the answer. Alfred continued stitching this time, but his mind pondered on what he should say.

I can't tell him I love him. Not yet, Alfred reminded himself, so he settled with, "I would have no one to argue with, I guess."

Arthur knew he should have punched the git right then and there, but for some reason, coming from Alfred, the statement was...endearing.

"O-oh?" he responded dumbly, and Alfred laughed.

"Yeah!" Alfred responded. "You always bring out the worst in me, for some reason, and that's why I like you so much, Arthur. 'Cuz no one usually sees my bad side, only you." Arthur blinked.

"Was that a compliment, or an insult?" he queried, a smirk playing on his lips. Alfred, who had finished the stitching, sat up with a satisfied sigh. He admired his art for a bit before turning to Arthur.

"It was an insulting compliment," he answered with a smirk, and Arthur face-palmed.

"Excuse me while I regrow some brain cells," the Brit said into his palm, and Alfred laughed.

~Operation: Bomb and Injury Disposal~

"You asshole!" Lovino spat, following Antonio down the darkened hallway. "I told you we were going the wrong way! Look how much time we've lost!"

Antonio smiled to himself as he looked down at the scanner. He opened the door to the gym and went inside, Lovino not too far behind.

"Which way, O wise and beautiful one?" Antonio asked, handing Lovino the scanner, which the Italian promptly bashed him on the head with. Then, the Italian examined it and came to a conclusion.

"West," he announced, and Antonio, rubbing his head, followed suit. The two continued walking westward until the scanner blinked to life. They both looked all around, but found no trace of the bomb. Suddenly, Antonio pointed upward.

"Lovi-"

"Lovino, you prat."

"Lovi, look," the Spaniard was pointing to a basketball hoop with a bomb taped on it. Lovino glared daggers at the machine, as if his glare would melt it into spare parts.

"...Are you fucking serious," Lovino asked the heavens, and then proceeded to take out his gun. Antonio rose an eyebrow.

"Lovi, um...I don't think you should do that!"

Too late.

The Italian pulled the trigger and shot the bomb. Antonio scrunched his eyes closed and waited for the end, when...

"Open your eyes, idiota," Lovino demanded, and the Spaniard opened them. The bomb lay in a dysfunctional heap on the floor, sparks and smoke radiating off of it. Antonio blinked and laughed.

"Well, that's one way to disable a bomb," the Spaniard chuckled. "Good job, Lovi." The Italian flushed and looked to the side.

"Yeah, whatever," was his response, and Antonio laughed pleasantly, leaving Lovino to once again wonder if this guy was a masochist.

The Italian quickly contacted Kiku.

"...Lovino?"

"Bomb 2's out," Lovino announced into the walkie-talkie, "...and so will this stupid Spaniard if he continues calling me 'Lovi'."

~Operation: Bomb and Injury Disposal~

The cut was, surprisingly, very well-stitched together. Arthur couldn't help but admire its craftsmanship as Alfred put some gauze over it.

"You're very good at this," Arthur commented, letting some jealousy enter his voice. "Almost better than me." Alfred laughed as he finished wrapping the gauze.

"Yeah," he replied. "I was supposed to be a doctor."

Arthur blinked, surprised. "What happened?"

There was a pang of pain behind Alfred's glasses-which Arthur had come to know as "Texas"-and the Brit recoiled, wondering if he had asked one too many questions.

"My parents were killed," Alfred confessed, leaning back against the bed. Arthur found himself at a loss for words.

"Oh," he responded, gulping. "I'm..uh...I'm sorry." I've treated him so harshly, but he's got his share of pains too.

"S'okay," Alfred replied, shrugging. He laughed. "You didn't know. I'm over it, anyway."

An awkward silence filled the room before Alfred broke it again.

"And anyways, if they hadn't been brutally murdered, I would never be where I am today! You know, with...um...," Alfred paused. He scratched the back of his head. His cheeks grew a massive shade of red. For once in his life, he stuttered. "...with, um...you."

The two sat there, staring at each other for a while. And then something snapped. Alfred lurched forward and took Arthur's face in his hands, leaning in so that they were nose-to-nose. Arthur didn't realize he had stopped breathing until he started again.

"Arthur...there's something I've gotta tell you."

~Operation: Bomb and Injury Disposal~

Feliciano Vargas tip-toed into the kitchen, clutching the scanner in his hand. It wavered in his nervous grasp, but he always got a hold of himself whenever he caught a glimpse of Ludwig. His Ludwig.

Cool, composed, and uber-bad Ludwig.

Feliciano smiled as the two caught a glimpse of the kitchen. This place brought back so many memories...wait!

He shook his head, his curl dancing in his brown hair, and attempted to focus. The Italian checked the scanner. "West, Ludwig!" Feliciano announced proudly, pointing in that very direction. His German partner nodded and the two followed where Feli had been pointing. Suddenly, the scanner blared wildly.

"Here," Ludwig said, and looked around. Frowning, he added, "I don't see it."

"Doitsu, Doitsu!" Feliciano cried. "Doitsu" was a part of a secret language the two shared. It meant "Germany" in Japanese. "In...in here. Wow, this is so weird!"

Ludwig followed Feliciano over to an oven. He looked over the Italian's shoulder and nearly fell over from shock.

What kind of idiot puts a bomb in a freaking oven? One that's on, no less?

"Ve~! Ludwig, are they trying to cook it?" Feliciano asked, concerned for how the bomb would end up tasting. "If so, I think they're doing it wrong."

Ludwig allowed himself a chuckle. Too cute. He then attempted to reach inside and grab it, remembering that this was a bomb and it could explode at any moment, when Feliciano slapped the German's wrist.

"Ah!" he said, and pulled out a set of oven mits from a nearby drawer. He then pulled the bomb out and smiled brilliantly at Ludwig. "Oven mits! Wouldn't want you to burn yourself."

Ludwig laughed, then turned to the bomb, grabbing the oven mits Feliciano was holding out. He did a procedure very much like the one Matthew had done, and shut it off completely. The two sat there, waiting and watching the bomb, as if waiting for it to explode. Then, they sat back and laughed openly, relieved that they had shut it off.

Ludwig called Kiku on the walkie-talkie and reported their success. Then, he decided that it would be good if he could just sit back and enjoy one of the little wonders in life-hugging Feliciano.

Soon afterwards, the Italian piped up.

"I'm sort of glad we disabled the bomb, Ludwig," he said. The German couldn't help but laugh again.

"Oh? Why's that?" he asked. Aside from the fact that we could have fucking died.

"Well, whoever did it doesn't know a thing about cooking!" Feliciano exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. Ludwig rose an eyebrow.

"Do they, now?"

"Yeah!" the Italian nodded. "Everyone knows that when you're trying to cook bombs, you've gotta slice some grenades and throw 'em in there, too!"

~Operation: Bomb and Injury Disposal~

Arthur's breath hitched in his throat. He didn't know what was about to happen. All he knew that Alfred, Alfred F. Jones, the man he should have detested but somehow didn't, was right in front of him, and...well. He just might get kissed. And he didn't know how he felt about that. Or did he?

Alfred's breath hitched in his throat. He didn't know what was about to happen. He'd lost his control, and he'd lost his composure. What the hell was he going to do now? Move in for the kill? Kiss Arthur? What?

Just when Alfred decided he was going to move in for the kill, somebody burst into the room. Again.

"Guys, Natalia's woken up! She's willing to-are you fucking serious, I broke another moment?" Elizaveta cried, running out of the room to cry her eyes out. Alfred and Arthur parted once again, and the American threw a pillow at the two currently present (Francis and Matthew), and demanded:

"Do you know how to knock?"

Arthur's face was so red that he couldn't say a word.

Francis, finished laughing, said, "Natalia's woken up. She's willing to talk. Come down to the cells." Matthew, hiding behind Kumajirou, ushered Francis out of the room and closed the door...

...leaving Alfred and Arthur completely alone.

The two immediately shot up off of the bed and turned to each other, both scratching the backs of their heads.

"Well, we'd better go," Arthur said.

"Yeah," Alfred concluded. The Brit turned on his heel all too quickly and went to walk out of the room, Alfred on his heels.

I'm so stupid, Alfred thought, cursing himself. Why would someone like Arthur...

...fall for someone like me? Arthur thought, sighing.

What a long night.

~Operation: Bomb and Injury Disposal~

A man stared in shock at his computer monitor, then, outraged, slammed his fists onto his desk, making the two assistants standing behind him flinch.

"They disabled the bombs!" he yelled, throwing his hands up in the air in outrage. "All four of them! Impossible!"

"...They are the best, though," Ivan said from across the room. "I'd have to say there's no group that does their job better than those men and women."

The man lifted his gaze to look at the Russian across the room. He tilted his head. "...Do not be mistaken, Ivan!" he screamed, crossing the room to point a finger at the Russian ex-assassin, as well as ex-bodyguard. "These people are your enemies! Learn to despise them! Learn to...what are you looking at?"

The man followed Ivan's gaze to the computer, where Yao was seen at the moment, organizing papers and clipping them together. The man smirked, let out a sound that sounded like realization, and turned to face Ivan, whose dark eyes were already fixated back on his boss.

"Focus, boy! Focus!" the man scolded, and slapped Ivan. The Russian brought his hand up to his cheek and looked up at his boss, his eyes expressionless.

"Sorry, sir."

The man scoffed. "I am merely helping you, Ivan. That...thing-"

"That thing has a name," Ivan corrected, rage coating his eyes. "His name is Wang Yao." And then, as if to piss his boss off further, added, "He's very pretty."

His boss laughed-that same humorless, colorless laugh that everyone seemed to be laughing nowadays. "Well, that boy is a distraction. I need you focused, Ivan!" He hit him again, and Ivan fell to the ground with a grunt. His boss knelt down and whispered,

"Now be a good boy and let me help you. That's all I'm trying to do," the man said with a smirk and got up. "Don't let your feelings for that boy-your feelings for anyone on their side, for that matter-distract you from your duty!"

Ivan got up and dusted himself off and nodded. "Yes, sir."

The boss nodded, satisfied. "And just what exactly is your duty, Braginsky?"

Ivan's eyes flickered for just a moment. Some part of him didn't want to do this anymore. He didn't want to go against his friends, and he didn't want to do his "duty". When, he wondered, had he lost so much control? Over his life? Over his responsibilities?

The Russian gulped silently, then answered what he had been answering for the past few weeks.

"My duty is to destroy all of the assassins and bodyguards."

~Operation:Bomb and Injury Disposal~

HAPPY NEW YEAR! :D

Since I won't be seeing you as often cuz of school, I made this chapter longer. Much, much longer. My arm hurts. xD Be happy! :D

And sorry about that failed USUK moment! It couldn't happen yet-the story was planned this way; don't worry, when they finally get together, it shall be epic!

I LOVE YOU ALL. I CAN'T SAY THAT ENOUGH.

I hope I shall be able to update! See you next chapter, whenever that arrives! :D

ALL MY LOVE,

Blank Paiges ;)