School's catching up with me.
I just want you to see how bad-ass as a mafia boss China is in my story. I can't promise that the Asians will appear more in more chapters to come because, well, I can't connect them to Matthew much.
I don't own Hetalia.
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Yao Wang spat at the man in front of him. This person— who is an owner of an illegal joint of imported drugs— had asked to give his company a more larger export from the current contract of theirs. They were at the port, by the huge crates towering them from the evening sun.
"You still owe me! You promised me you will pay me the next time we meet!" He produced a handgun from the fold of his sleeves. "I've been patient enough, aru. I do not joke around about this thing" He pointed the gun at the man and pressed the trigger only for it to produce a click.
"Bang." He said, smirking at their astounded looks. He turned around to go back his car, one of his guards, standing by it and opened the door for him.
Soon enough, his men appeared above the crates, aiming guns at the man and his two bodyguards, startling them.
Once the Chinese man's door slammed close, they shot the three men until they were nothing but bloody messes of holes.
From inside the car, Yao sighed as he caught sight of a Nintendo DS beside him; it must be Yong Soo's. He took it and turned it on.
"Take me home, aru." He commanded the driver.
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"Here are the girls we recruited, Monsieur Bonnefoy."
The Frenchman smiled and raised his wineglass, "Let them in."
Seven girls came in the room with bathrobes on. They lined up in front of him side by side.
"You never seem to let me down." He told the man as he stood up from his settee. He placed his glass on the side table and glanced at the girls, then said, "Strip."
The girls were hesitant at first, but soon complied when the first man glared at them. They took of their robes one by one, letting them fall to the ground. They stood there, shivering in their underwear.
He pointed at the girl before him, "I'll have dessert with you tonight."
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"What?" Roderich shouted as he sprung up from his chair. "Emil broke his arm?" His wife nodded as she held the phone close to her ear.
Elizaveta was swimming, as Roderich was reading a book to accompany her in the backyard. She heard the phone ringing in the house when she got up from the pool to drink.
She muttered on the phone, "He'll be there shortly." She pressed to end the call and put it down on the receiver. "Honey, you better head out before they come get you."
He stomped to the house, grumbling, "They should have run him to the hospital."
She shook her head at him and sighed, looking at the ring on her ring finger longingly, "I didn't marry the wrong man, did I? I hope not." She then took her drink and followed him.
She tagged along so she could give the poor patient some calming tea. But when they got there, the boy was as calm as ever, quiet as a mouse. While his brothers were frantic about his bleeding broken arm. It seems that they need the calming tea.
Roderich was so frustrated at them that he scolded them to leave the room, and so concentrated at the boy's arm that she dared to ask around.
"So, gangs can't go to hospitals? They need private doctors?" She mused. She was hoping to get an answer from this man beside her, whom she gathered as Mathias Kohler, and the leader among them.
Mathias laughed nervously, "Not really. Ice— I mean, Emil, practically tried to break a leg by climbing our tree outside. But it seems fate wanted him to break a hand or something." They both leaned on the back of the headboard of the couch.
The Dane turned to her, "So, you Doc Eldenstein's nurse?"
"I'm his wife."
"W-woah!" He exclaimed in surprise. "You look so, sorry to be rude, but you look so young! I thought you'd only have a boyfriend or two."
Her lips twitched in an incredulous smile, "'Or two?'"
He shrugged.
She changed the topic, "So there are five of you here?"
The Dane closed his eyes in thought, folding his arms over his chest. He hummed, "Actually, since Tino's not part of the gang anymore… there would be four of us."
She mentally sweatdropped, that took him quite an awfully long time to figure out. She smiled anyway, "I see."
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Arthur Kirkland slammed open the double doors from his path. The autopsy report he asked for was stolen from their errand boy. They had to get the autopsy report from the hospital since all of their troupes had to run around to shut the mafia world from shaking the good, and better citizens who knows how to make decent livings. But anyway, their errand boy was put to sleep and got dragged into a supply closet. The report wasn't that too much big of a deal, truth be told.
He was called to the hospital to get the report verbally and see the body himself and too also check on the poor boy.
"Detective Kirkland," A woman greeted, looking up from her clipboard.
Arthur stopped on his tracks and stared at the woman warily.
The woman looked too young to be a doctor; she had her long golden hair braided in a red ribbon, her glasses framed her blue eyes, and her white lab coat hanging on her lithe frame of a young woman in her early 20's.
"You are Doctor Blanc?" He mused.
She smiled softly, "It would be better if you could call me Mona."
Arthur chuckled, "Please Doctor, my colleagues would think I am courting you."
"Do as you please." She turned towards the closed glass doors, "Let me show you the body."
She led him through the doors and pointed at a quite wrinkled body on the metal table to the right, pointing with the tip of her pen.
She took two surgical gloves and gave one to him, putting down her pen and clip board.
"Our man here, Mr. Phipps, was tied and gagged with cloth as the men in your office had found him." She pressed her gloved index and middle fingers on the pale white skin on the left shoulder of the corpse. "You see, his captors, before throwing him in the water, had shot him over here and had dislocated the tendons," She dug her hand inside the wound, "the bullet is inside the body, but was deflected by the shoulder bone, making it stay inside. But the abrasion is all the way to the back probably inflicted with a long sharp tool. One doctor suggested that Mr. Phipps got thrusted with a sword then got shot."
He nodded, "Brutal way." He muttered. Dr. Blanc agreed. "My men told me there were some visible cuts that Mr. Phipps' captors had attempted to slice his legs off."
"Oh yes, that." She walked to the corpse's lower half. She lifted the blanket until his thighs. "Something very sharp, obviously. The thing used can only cut 'til bone, probably a chopping knife or an axe; unless there was an act of mercy or hesitation that the person who did this part did it half-heartedly." She unfolded the blanket, covering back it's lower limbs. "Any questions or comments?"
He shook his head, "Your report is quite better than the last coroner that I had worked with here."
She smirked, "Only 'quite'?" She took of her glove and threw it in the garbage bin.
"You have to show you're worth my trust."
Her brows rose in a questioning gesture, "Shall I tell you something personal?"
"It is your choice."
She smiled as she nodded. "I'm French." She said, putting a hand over her chest.
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"Why is she crying?" The German man asked, watching the woman cagily.
Eduard smiled dubiously, "She was very attached with that rifle." Katyusha was hysterical; hugging him and all that.
She clutched his sleeve. "Let's get," she sniffled, "let's get out of here." She whispered.
"We'll go on ahead, if you don't mind." He said, clutching the briefcase with the pay for the rifle.
The man nodded.
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Elizaveta closed her car door with too much force necessary. She was meeting up with Kiku and possibly Kiku's lover. She wanted to jump in joy, but something in her made her doubt. She cursed in her mother tongue. She just remembered that Kiku was kidnapped. Now he was mysteriously freed? Maybe Kiku's lover got something to do with it.
"Elizaveta-chan," The Japanese man called weakly. "Konnichiwa Elizaveta-chan. I-I would like you to meet Herakles Karpusi, m-my boyfriend." He told her as she stopped a meter from them. The man beside Kiku was looking at her sleepily.
She tried to give a friendly smile. First impressions are the bases of friendships, and if she gave a bad first impression then Kiku might get upset with her.
Herakles is hot in the scale of cute and hot. His hair was brown and curly. Elizaveta could make out the man's muscles faintly from the almost white-gray long sleeve shirt he was wearing, and being a fashion designer her eyes went down to see if his pants was bulky with a wallet full of cash…or maybe something more.
She bit the inside of her mouth, thinking 'I'm not going to steal from Kiku's boyfriend!' She mentally scolded herself, 'That's crazy!'
She laughed nervously and laughed.
Kiku sweated and smiled, equally nervous, "E-elizaveta-chan, I-I don't like that look in your eyes."
"Kiku," She clamped his shoulder, "As a fujoshi, it's an honor for me to be your best friend." She faced Herakles, "I'm Elizaveta Hedérváry."
He nodded. "Why don't we go sit down?" He led them inside the restaurant.
It was just any other restaurant, it wasn't anything fancy. Elizaveta remembered Matthew took her here once just after his first suppose to be date with Natalia, but Toris and Vash barged in the restaurant and took him on his chair, completely leaving Natalia there startled. Matthew made her "I'm sorry" pancakes the day after.
Once they were seated at their table, Elizaveta asked Herakles.
"So, you're Greek?"
He nodded slowly.
She sweat dropped mentally, it felt like that the conversation would only go on if she ask questions. She went to the basics.
"How did you meet Kiku?"
"I got a speeding ticket," The Greek said, a matter-of-factly. "And then I met Kiku." He turned his head to the raven haired man. Elizaveta couldn't stop herself from grinning and had to pinch herself from squealing. That was definitely cute.
"When did you two start dating?"
"As soon as I got the ticket." He was replying in one sentence. And as soon as she finishes her questions, he answers in a flash. And there's Kiku, who's fidgety and stuttery. She could see him very flushed up as Heracles replies. There was something up, they were hiding something.
There was one question that bubbles up in her brain. Before she could muster the courage to ask, her mouth moved on his own.
"Have you done it?"
"Yes."
She fell with her chair. She was taken aback that made her fall backwards. Her ungracious fall made a loud thunk which raked all the people in the restaurant's attention. She was numbed from being embarrassed. She was perplexed. Her hand shot up to the edge of the table, she groped the ledge and pulled herself up and propped her other elbow on top the table; the rest of her covered by the table.
"You've done it?" She whispers harshly, throat dried.
"Elizaveta-chan, stop. They're staring." Kiku whispered back, completely blushing like a tomato at the unwanted attention they were getting.
Betrayed, completely betrayed, that's what she felt. Why should she feel betrayed? Kiku's sexlife was none of her business, of course. Maybe she was overjoyed that her mind had made her feel confuse to another emotion.
She wasn't like those desperate girls that pry in their friend's personal life to gossip and giggle about it. No, Kiku is too kind for that. He doesn't and will not amount to useless friends like that.
"Am I a useless friend?" She asked herself.
"I don't think so."
"Huh?"
She looked at the person who was standing in front her, she was seating behind the cash register. The person had a soft smile on his face; he had a fedora hat on his black hair and had a well tailored suit. Judging from his light accent and skin, he was Asian, Indian if she should mention.
"You asked if you were a useless friend and I doubt that, judging from your melancholic expression." He said wisely, then added, "And I've been asking for the past ten minutes."
Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, she finally blurted out, "I-I'm so sorry, sir. What can I do for you?"
He nodded at her in satisfaction, "I just wanted to ask if you can design a specific theme and tailor it."
She wanted to laugh at herself, but didn't. "Is it for a party?"
"Indeed."
"Well, I am the designer Elizaveta Hedérváry, and I completely apologize for that just now. Shall we discuss about it in my office?" She offered, walking from the cash register and to the small hall leading to her small studio.
"That'd be great."
"Ria," she called softly to the girl fixing the hangers by the racks. The girl raised her head at her, "Please cover for me." She told her and the girl manned the register and let her costumer to her studio.
Matthew was the first to know that day, then Feliks, next was Roderich when he called, the rest knew by Facebook.
"At least he's safe." The blonde breathed. "Who did you say he was with again?"
"Heracles Karpusi. Greek guy, very hot." She told him, looking at stuff in her iPad. She lifted her eyes from it and narrowed her eyes. "Very hot." Repeating that made Matthew laugh at her serious look.
He nodded as he calmed down, "You shouldn't tell Vash's little sister that."
"Why?" She asked her face softened.
"Eh," His indigo eyes gave that innocent gleam, "She and the Mayor has a date next week with the Three Heirs. And she's quite interested on the Grecian Heir."
"Of course! Of course," Elizaveta mused sarcastically, throwing her brown hair behind her. "She would like the guy, come on! He's hot." Her hands flung to the air in a gesture of matter-of-factly.
Matthew scrunched his nose in disgust, an act that Feliks and her had labeled as cute from him.
"No, not that kind of interest. She just read about him in a magazine. Remember that this Heracles guy has Kiku."
A delicate eyebrow raised, "Mh-hm," the woman hummed questioningly, "I'm also a girl, Matthew. I know where that leads to."
Matthew laughed again.
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"Bonjour, Papa! Rise and shine! It's a beautiful day out there!" Angeliqué exclaimed, pulling the curtains apart to let in sunlight in the dark room.
The Frenchman groaned, "Just a few more minutes, Angeliqué, let Papa sleep…" He mumbled, covering his head with his pillow.
The girl pouted and placed her hands on her waists, "I know you just had some mind-blowing sew last night, Papa, but you made a promise to Uncle Tonio and Uncle Gil that you're meeting up again." She told him. "After that Mattiue is going to your club to meet you. And then…" Most of his appointments she remembers just to remind him. It was completely necessary especially on times like these.
Francis gave a muffled frustrated scream on the mattress and rolled of his bed to the other side.
She grinned victoriously then walked to the door. "Breakfast is ready." She stopped from opening the door, "Oh Papa," Francis turned his head to her. She smiled at him innocently, "Don't go downstairs with no clothes on again." Before closing the door after her, she heard him mutter.
"Je peux vivre avec l'être nu."
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"Lilli! I'm heading out!" Gilbert shouted in a semi singy voice from the front door.
"Okay! Just buy me some eggs when you get back!" The girl shouted from upstairs with the same voice.
"Would you like them fertilized or unfertilized?" He shouted again, fixing the sleeve of his jacket.
"If you bring home a whore, I'll cook Gilbird!" Lilli shouted, still in the same tone.
"I'll get a virgin then!" He yelled in sarcastic anger and slammed the door, enough for her to hear, as he stepped out the house.
He looked around the front lawn in search of the garage and beamed when it door open, there his shiny silver-white Volvo sparkling in splendor.
Antonio cocked his head as the young girl served him a glass of wine.
"Mi querido, has Francis woke up yet?"
"Oui, Uncle Tonio. He's still inside eating his breakfast."
He nodded, taking the glass, "Did he come down with no clothes on?"
She grinned, "I reminded him."
Antonio smiled proudly at her, "Remind me later to give you a treat the next time I see you again, si?"
"Si!" She said, repeating the stranger word on her tongue.
Francis' house was built up on a private hill, a dirt path leading up to the front door. There wasn't much of a fence or wall around the house, but security was tight below the hill – though it was open-aired, that's what the Frenchman thought, so Angeliqué can enjoy the outdoors, and also, it was a great place to meet the other two. They were in the backyard; a table was set up there for them.
They heard a car roar from downhill which became louder, and suddenly a silver-white Volvo raced towards them and the tires screeched irritatingly as it parallel parked abruptly to the table's side, to Antonio's left. Its albino owner opened the door as his car's engine stopped.
"Hey Antonio, Angeliqué." He greeted as he saw them over the roof of his car. "Where's Francis?"
The Spanish man smiled back at his greeting, "He's still eating breakfast."
Gilbert looked at his wristwatch as he went around his car to join him, "At 11 in the afternoon?" He faced Angeliqué. "He didn't come down naked again, right?"
"I told him."
He patted her head and praised her, "Good girl Angie, you're the best daughter Francis could have."
The girl shrugged and gave him a glass of wine.
Soon enough Francis came over to them.
"Hey! You remembered to put clothes on!" Gilbert said, raising his glass of wine at him.
Francis opened his arms and smiled triumphantly, "Mon petit Angeliqué reminded me."
Antonio nodded as he put the glass to his lips, "Mi amigo, your fly's open."
The Frenchman cursed and swung around, turning his back at them.
"What—" his daughter started.
"Angeliqué, turn around!" He shouted.
The other two giggled to themselves.
When the whole fiasco had finished and Angelique had gone back into the house, Antonio snapped at Francis, his voice low.
"Francis! How could you let your own daughter see you like that?" He didn't let his best friend answer, "You let her wake you up every morning and show her that you slept with a woman who is not her mother?"
Gilbert leaned back on his seat, "Toni, Francis ain't like that."
Francis chuckled lowly, "Mon ami, Angeliqué is adopted."
"Ja," The albino added, "Francis leaves the bitch in the room then goes to his own room."
Antonio's heart drop, "Huh?"
"He leaves the girl."
"No, the first one."
"That Angeliqué's adopted?"
"Angeliqué's adopted?"
The other two looked at him with the same shocked impression.
"You don't know?" The German asked.
But the Spanish man cannot reply. He was too lost in his own thoughts and broken heart. Francis' little twelve year old daughter… that sweet Angeliqué, she was—
