Hey! The last (unedited) update for the month is here! Also, I'm planning on bumping the rating up to M (meaning the smuts) so I need to know what you think.

Hetalia (c) Hidekaz Himaruya

The repeated knocking on my door didn't cease as I tried to tune it out with the sound of the telly which displayed a music video filled with nude women and well-dressed men treating the opposite sex as though they were playthings. Despite the catchy pop melody, the lyrics only seemed to piss me off all the more with the lack of respect for women. Nudity, in my opinion, was tolerable, but the fact that the singer referred to them as 'good girls' and knowing that they wanted 'it' was something I couldn't tolerate. Mutual respect for people's decisions on whether to engage in sexual activity or not should be acknowledged in order to have a healthy relationship. Knowing that they wanted 'it' simply wasn't enough. Every decent human being knew that.

Lying in bed with my feet propped on a stack of feather pillows, I began examining the weapons Alastair had provided for us. How did we even get the weapons in the first place? Well, upon boarding, we remained unarmed as we passed through metal detectors. The ring pistol Alfred wore was considered as an accessory as it we showed security officials that it was unloaded (we had unloaded the gun and hid the bullets as they performed security checks). We got held up enough what with the amount of jewellery we were wearing; it was a good thing we were able to put up with the rich kid image. The weapons were delivered to our rooms; courtesy of Alastair dressed up as a worker aboard the ship, slipping away before the ship departed.

Growing tired of the repeated knocking on my door, I heaved a sigh and made my way towards the door, unlocking it. "What the hell do you want?!" I asked in an annoyed tone, complete with the believable American accent.

Alfred stood there, stunned by my sudden loud voice. "Whoa, I never knew you could be that loud."

"What the hell do you want?" I repeated, this time in a much calmer tone, although I let the accent stick for amusement, as well as to be safe.

"Can I come in?"

"Can I say no?"

"Not really, Dylan."

I let out another theatrical sigh, faking a smile as I grabbed for his collar and pulled him into the room, locking the door. Why not make Dylan gay? It added so much more to his character. Perhaps that was why his father had arranged for him to establish relations with his business partner's son. Perhaps they were already engaged and were simply on one of their dates. Perhaps I could have done something more productive during the past few seconds, had I not have gone overboard with my musings, considering Dylan Ashford was fictional.

Locking the door behind him, he raised an eyebrow as he took a look in my room where my weapons were laid haphazardly on my bed.

"Care to explain your reason for bothering me?" I asked, this time, without the accent.

"I'm nervous," he replied briefly before placing my weapons neatly on one side of the bed, making room as he sat down.

"Aw, do you want me to hold your hand and tell you everything's okay?" I mocked, to which in reply, he raised an eyebrow. Letting out a sigh of frustration, I resisted the urge to run my hand through my hair, reminding myself that I was on a mission with someone who had no clue what they were doing and that Morgan would kill me for ruining the rich kid façade. "I'm sorry, I promised to try to be civil and yet here I am," I mumbled with a frown. I had always held a certain distaste over apologies. They're useless and held little to no meaning in them, and in all honesty, I could even say they're filled with broken promises.

"S'okay, I mean, I've dealt with worse anyway," he chuckled, looking slightly weary. I could only assume that thoughts of the painful past just flooded his brain, and judging from what I knew of him, that was exactly what had occurred.

"Would it help if I said I had a plan?" I offered, tucking away my weapons discreetly and creatively.

At that, his eyes lit up. "Yes! What's the plan?"

"There is none. Fooling yourself into believing there's one though, or better yet, trying to come up with one should that make you feel better," I hummed. "That's a life lesson, by the way." Indeed it was. There would never be a plan in life, as not everything went the way we wanted it to be. As if that wasn't obvious, I could even say life often had complications as things were never meant to be easy. If it was, then I would have been dead. If it was easy, then I'd have done something wrong, for life…life is a bitch and for that reason, it will never be easy.

Without even looking, I could tell he was pouting right at that moment. With his legs crossed on my bed, he fiddled with my ring uneasily, his brows knitted together as his eyes appeared distant, as though he actually listened to my suggestion.

Plans were something I could quickly come up with. I acted on impulse, though as horrible as that might sound, my impulse was trained to deal with issues pertaining matters related to the things I dealt with. Everyone in the Kirkland family was trained, though not properly but efficiently, as there would be usually one chance to execute the deed correctly. We've learnt to avoid making mistakes as much as possible, as the repercussions had we done wrong, involved life and death.

"So what if we get caught?"

"We're fucked."

"Huh."

"Indeed."

Along with the pregnant pause, the awkwardness grew in the air as we remained in the same room, not even bothering to talk. In comparison to other people, I felt extremely at ease in silence, as I sat on a loveseat and slid my eyes shut, for the sake of resting. The insufferable music in the background changed, indicating that my little protégé, if I could refer to him as that, had given up on devising a plan and decided to make better use of his time by seeking some sort of entertainment to soothe his nerves.

Time passed, and a buzz on my phone alerted me of the event nearing the time of fulfilling the task. Stretching my arms, I got up and reminded Alfred of our mission, heading out to explore the ship and locate the objects required. I preferred not to indulge myself in such luxuries as I was a man of hard work; always on the job, every second of every day.

Following the corridor leading onto the area where the objects were displayed, I met eyes with an unexpected figure.

She was stunning. In fact in my opinion, she was one of the finest women I've ever had the pleasure of knowing.

"Arthur Kirkland," her voice was smooth, low, and seductive with a thick accent filled with overwhelming confidence. Golden white strands of long hair shone in the bright light, flowing smoothly as she turned to face us. Eyes as blue as the midnight sky hid underneath long, dark lashes as she blinked, hinting a look of amusement in them while her face showed no emotion. The shine and colour in her eyes were accentuated with the colour of her floor-length dress which she wore with a flair of elegance. Pale pink lips formed a slight smirk, her flawless pale skin making her appear to be a porcelain doll—an ice goddess in the flesh.

Behind me, I heard Alfred hold his breath, knowing without a doubt that he too appreciated the sight. It'd be a shame for him to find out her identity, really. Such a shame.

"I'm Dylan Ashford tonight, love," I chuckled, bringing my hand up to run it through my hair until I remembered Morgan's reaction had I continued with the action.

I felt a slight tug on my sleeve as Alfred tried to get my attention, "Arthur, who is she?"

Holding a hand up to silence him as I approached her, I mirrored her smirk as I took the hand she held out, bowed, and kissed her knuckles. "Honestly, you get more stunning each time we meet."

The action brought a smile to her face, radiating an air of superiority and sophistication. This woman enjoyed people bowing to her, and I had no problems whatsoever doing so. "I'm guessing you're on a mission again? Off to steal something? Information, perhaps? Or are you after the pièce de résistance at the auction?"

"Arthur, who is she?" Alfred demanded impatiently.

"I'm always on the job, m'lady."

Her eyes wandered to the boy behind me. "And what is this child doing here? Is he lost?" she asked. Walking towards him, I noticed the fascination in her eyes as her face masked her expression. "You shouldn't be meddling in adult affairs," she told him. She was odd that way, insulting every person who she had taken an interest to, the first time she met them.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but Arthur and I have some adult business to take care of," he smiled sweetly while his voice was coated with thick, deadly poison; poison which he meant to direct towards her. "You're kind of interrupting us."

The immature child in me giggled at how it sounded, hinting my amusement as I watched him walk away and drag me with him to the auction hall, leaving the ice goddess behind with a slightly offended look on her face.

Alfred fumed, his grip tightening around me as he said, "I don't like her." You shouldn't.

"Why is that?" I asked playfully, letting him drag me around.

Alfred remained silent at that, his face turning into a shade of pale pink. "I just don't," he mumbled.

With a roll of my eyes, I came to a halt as I twisted away from his vicelike grip, annoyed while smoothing the wrinkles he left on my sleeve. "You have a lot to learn, Alexander. Why show your distaste for someone when they might be useful in the future?" I sighed.

"You pay more attention to her," he said silently.

"Don't be a brat. Why must it be a concern if I pay more attention to everyone that isn't you?" I asked, growing impatient. It was hypocritical of me to tell him not to display any emotion when I had a sudden burst of impatience merely seconds later, but I couldn't help it. Alfred made me react to every single thing he did way more than I usually did.

"Never mind, then! Let's just get this over with, and go home," he snapped.

Alfred sat at the guard's chair in the surveillance room while I stood in the hallway, on the lookout for anyone who could possibly be watching. I secured the area minutes before, but since Alfred had been nice enough to do the hacking (simply because he was better than it than I was), I decided to make sure the area was safe.

"Whelp, I put the surveillance cams on loop, so it shouldn't give us away. Since you're the best at what you do, we won't get caught with this," he huffed, cracking his knuckles while he took the leather gloves off his hands, slipping the ring pistol back on his finger.

"The alarms?"

"Shut them off," he smirked.

"Arrogant prick," the name-calling habit had grown into me and though I tried to hide it, I usually slipped when Alfred was around.

Flashing a bright smile, he chuckled, the sound like that of a child's: musical and joyous. "I'm the best at what I do," he said, sounding extremely obnoxious, until he tripped over the leg of a guard I'd disposed of earlier on. His body hadn't gone stiff from being dead yet, but I knew he was growing colder and colder and soon enough, rigor mortis would be in effect. He looked old, but capable; he probably had children—possibly grandchildren. Alastair would probably read about him in the obituaries page of the newspaper days later.

Alfred never seemed pleased at the sight of death, though I could tell that it obviously wasn't the first dead body he'd encountered. With a roll of my eyes, I sighed as we exited the room, locking it and walking away like nothing happened.

He'd done his part, and now it was up to me.

We had minutes to complete the job. The security wasn't as tight as I had expected; Alfred, disabling most of the sophisticated security systems for me, so what was left of me to do, was pick the lock, steal the objects, and lead Alfred to our escape. It was simple enough, although we were expected to stay much longer than expected so no one suspected Alfred and me of the crime.

"Put your gloves back on; we don't want you leaving prints around now, do we?" I hummed, not bothering to put some on. I used to add superglue to my fingers to hide my fingerprints, and in my earlier years, I often used to alter my fingerprints using needles, but since I'd grown tired of doing so, the number of cuts I had on my hands caused callouses to grow and by the time I'd burnt my fingertips, it hardly did anything to aid me.

Pulling out the tools I'd created, I easily picked the lock and pulled the pieces of jewellery out, wrapping them in cloth and placing them in a small self-sealing bag, before tucking them in one of my pockets. Pulling out the decoy, I placed them back in the glass case, previously containing the original objects, before locking it back in place. "Disappointing," I mumbled, before walking away and meeting Alfred who had been watching the doors for me.

"When are you going to teach me how to do cool stuff like that?" he asked as we continued walking in the halls as though nothing had happened.

"I assumed you already knew how to do that," I replied silently, cracking my knuckles out of boredom.

"I can kick down doors," he offered, only to receive a disappointed head shake from me.

The encounter was a fun chapter to write. The rest was painful since I had to rack my brain for info, meaning, I actually had to try, rather than letting my imagination do the work. Fuck.

Reviews are sweet like ice-cream cake. I love them and appreciate every single one.

~Reilley