A/N: Hey, everyone! Sorry for the late post, but I was at this rocking party last night! I was a +1 to an eighteenth birthday party, and I must admit, I had just a good time! I can't feel my feet, though, but I suppose that's an indication I had a good time dancing! I'm sorry for having neglected my duties as a FanFiction writer, but this really was an awesome party! I always love to get my dancing shoes on when I can! Also, the hosts (they were twins) were just lovely - I didn't know either of them, but one of them would stop by every now and then and he would just make sure all his guests were happy and having a good time! You know it's a good party when almost everyone's on the dance floor, and they don't leave until the DJ has to go for his next gig! I was extremely thankful they let me on the guest list, because there was like 200 people there! I'm usually a bit introverted (and don't get outside enough) but this really was an experience for me and I would definitely go again if I could repeat the night! There's nothing like a little going out on a Friday night to live it up a little! Thank you for you patience!

Also, thank you for 4,000 views! Wow! That's a lot of people who've dropped by to read Gakutalia, and I really appreciate that. Thank you for all your support and I'm having an amazing time writing this Fic, so I hope everyone's enjoying reading it! Thank you so much for all the reviews so far, and, without further ado, here is the next chapter!

I.B.

He didn't know how it had happened, but he was sitting inside the old woman's lounge with a cup of hot tea in his hands, listening to the life story of this grandson that so resembled his personality. It was the moment when she'd started to worry about him standing there for so long, but was reluctant to end their conversation – for Ivan had amiably kept the flow of words going through with the odd response every now and then. She had invited him inside to get warm, and he, being Ivan, had been unable to refuse the offer of someone in need of his company.

He didn't know how the expressionless hockey mask reminded the old woman of her grandson, but his only belief was that her grandson was involved with some kind of criminal organisation. Either way, it was difficult to breathe in if worn for too long (in his opinion) so he'd pushed it up from his face.

Ivan raised his head and saw that the time had somehow flown to be quarter to ten. His first instinct was to stand and dash out the door, but the old woman was still talking, and she must've been desperate for company to spill the entire life story of her grandson to a complete stranger. His second, more ethical instinct was to sit there and listen, maybe send a text to Alfred explaining the fate that had befallen him.

His third instinct was having no idea what to do. He didn't want to betray either the old woman or Alfred. He knew Alfred would be completely broken if Ivan caused them to lose by being late, but at the same time, the guilt of abandoning a lonely soul was too much to-

"Is that the time already?" the old woman glanced at the clock. "Gosh, it's late! Your parents have certainly raised a wonderful boy, since you've listened to me all night long. For that, why don't you have this?"

She stood and crouched by her fridge. Ivan waited patiently whilst she rummaged around, only to return and place a chocolate bar in his hands. It was a large chocolate bar, and Ivan wasn't sure he could take something that big.

"Oh, wow," he blinked.

"Thank you very much," the old woman said, guiding him to the door. "It's been wonderful having someone to talk to. I don't get visited often, and the only thing I really have in common with either of my neighbours' cats... I've kept you too long; your family are probably wondering where you've been."

"It was lovely talking to you," Ivan smiled, and took several paces away from the door.

"Don't eat too much chocolate," the old woman called after him with a mischievous smile on her face.

"I won't," Ivan promised, and she closed the door.

Checking his phone, he was seriously pushing the time limit. However, he knew a cut through that would bring him straight to the area of meeting. Ivan dashed across the road and headed there in a light jog, pushing the mask back down on his face to keep the cold wind from burning his skin.

Y.W.

He counted the large amounts of chocolate he had collected from different houses and families. He had done well this Hallowe'en. Checking the time, Yao frowned, seeing the clock read quarter to ten. He was supposed to be at the meeting place in five minutes. If he thought right, then he was more than five minutes walking distance. He had traversed moderately far in the course of the evening.

Yao chose to do the sensible thing. He whipped out his phone and texted Alfred he'd taken a wrong turning and would thus be late. It was OK to lie every now and then.

Without waiting for Alfred's reply, Yao already started running in the direction he was supposed to be headed.

F.B.

Francis only thought to check the time when he reached the end of the street. Blanching when he saw it was quarter to; Francis did the only sensible thing he could think of. He dialled a number, and lifted his phone patiently to his ear, standing on the side of the road.

A.J.

When he received Yao's text, Alfred began to worry. He hadn't noticed before, but it was already nearing the time he should've been meeting the others. He'd been so absorbed in collecting candy that he'd barely paid any notice to what was happening around him.

If there was one thing Alfred didn't want happening, then that was turning up late to a meeting point he'd arranged. That would just be embarrassing. He was the hero after all.

Like the Dark Knight he was dressed up to be, Bat-Alfred swished down the road in a hurried attempt to reach the meeting point before anyone else could.

A.K.

There were many things pressing on Arthur's mind, but reaching the meeting place in time was not one of them. Desperately, he pulled Peter out of the other side of the alleyway, and into another street lit by tall, towering lights, their yellow spotlights burned into the road and pavement.

Arthur could feel the sweat on his palms. He was terrified for Peter's sake, but also because he didn't have a reasonable explanation as to why some people would be trying to run him down.

"Come on, I think we can avoid them," he said, dashing into the darkened areas of the streets.

Peter nodded, remaining silent. Glancing over his shoulder, Arthur saw two burly men clad in black exit from the other side of the alleyway. His heart skipped a beat and he disappeared around another alleyway with Peter.

"Arthur, we need to get to a phone or the police," Peter worried.

"I know," Arthur agreed. "I just don't know how…"

They passed into the next street, which was empty. Arthur was trying to get a visual picture of the area in his head, but the dark setting and his panic made it difficult to concentrate and pinpoint a good location. He could ask a random person for a phone from their house, but stopping stationary risked more people's lives as well as their own.

The street was suddenly lit up with light. Arthur turned his head, only to have his retinas burned by the Hummer. With a shout, he ran across the road, whilst the Hummer performed a U-Turn in the middle of the street and stopped dead before the closest alleyway. Whoever was driving the Hummer sounded the horn, momentarily deafening Arthur. He saw the two men come running at the sound.

Arthur grimaced and dashed backwards, dragging a distressed and tearful Peter along with him. He wasn't sure how, but he managed to duck behind another building without getting shot (that was assuming these men had guns), and raced down it.

He collided with someone, and staggered backwards, hearing the clattering of a device. A phone skidded to his feet. He raised his eyes and saw two sunken holes where eyes were expected to be.

Peter uttered a cry of terror, and Arthur stepped in front of him before his senses returned to him. Ivan pushed his mask up onto his head with a concerned expression on his face, as he stooped to pick up his scraped phone.

"Ivan," Arthur breathed in relief. "Ivan, we need to go."

Ivan blinked as Arthur started pushing him along. "This is the wrong way – and we're already late."

"Not important," Arthur insisted, although Ivan was a big guy and not easy to push when resisting.

"Hold it, hold – kid," someone coughed from behind.

Arthur froze and saw a gun aimed straight at him. The owner of the gun was a slightly short man. He had dark hair and was relatively young, a light stubble growing across his face. He was moderately well built, and on his wrist there was an expensive watch. In his other hand, a burning cigarette wafted smoke into the air. Behind him stood two men of incredible stature.

"You know we're onta you," the man said. "An' that's fine – but put down the act an' jus' come along, right? Show's over, right, kid?"

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked, shaking in the cold.

The man pushed his sunglasses down and assessed him carefully. "Whad am I talkin' 'bout? I'm talkin' 'bout you, kid, right?"

"What do you want with me?" Arthur frowned. "I have a bit of cash – like, maybe a few quid. It's not much, but…" he pulled it out of his pocket. "…it's on offer."

The man spat on the ground and laughed, glancing at his colleagues, whose shoulders shook with amusement, although their eyes showed no emotion. Then he turned his head back and assessed Arthur coldly, his demeanour changing in the flip of a coin.

"No jokin' round with me," he said. "I don't do withat kinda jokin'. C'mon, kid. Come quietly an' you might jus' live a little longer…"

"Wait, what do you want with Arthur?" Ivan asked, just as confused as Arthur was.

The man's gaze settled on Arthur's friend, and his eyebrows rose on his forehead. His mouth opened and closed, whilst he seemed to consider Ivan, standing a little behind.

"You, kid, your name?" he asked him.

"Me?" Ivan pointed to himself.

"Aw, stuff it – I already know," he took a drag on his cigarette, gun still aimed at Arthur's head. "We was plannin' on takin' the rest of you anyway. All three jus' come along. Ransoms are pretty good for gettin' quick cash from those who care."

"I don't get it," Arthur worried. "Why do you want me?"

"We jus' wanna ask a few questions," the man replied. "Thassall. Nothin' else. As a matter a fact, it won't even take long – answer me an'-"

Arthur watched as a fantastic Maybach Landaulet suddenly rammed into the side of the Hummer. The bigger vehicle tilted and collapsed from the sudden impact of the other with a loud groan. The Maybach, its front completely crumpled from the impact, skidded backwards and drove on.

"Fucker!" the man screamed, running to investigate his car.

Ivan was the first to react. He pulled out the metal faucet and lobbed it straight at their opponents, catching one of the large men straight across the head, sending him staggering backwards. The three students took the blissful opportunity of some drunk passer-by to run as fast as they could.

A.J.

"Where the Hell are they?" Alfred scowled, standing in the cold with Yao and Matthew.

The only person to not arrive late had been Matthew, and he was already getting impatient from having been left standing for about ten minutes until Yao finally arrived.

"This is getting ridiculous, Alfred, I'm going home," he'd clearly had enough by now. "I'm cold – I'm tired – and I never wanted to be part of your competition anyway. I left home today really hoping I could enjoy myself trick or treating, but you always have to make things way too complicated."

"Wait, Matthew, if you leave, then we'll have-"

"It's all about your competition, see?" Matthew huffed. "I'm leaving. What I've collected is for myself."

He started storming away.

"Matthew, wait!" Alfred called.

"I'll see you later…" his brother muttered as he walked away.

"That went well," Yao frowned.

"Geez, where the Hell are they?" Alfred scowled, scrolling through his contacts. "I'll call Ivan because Arthur doesn't even have his phone."

"Look, aru, we're going to have to leave soon if we want to reach the meeting point in time," Yao winced. "I know that'll really put us at a disadvantage, but it's better than being late."

"Just give them a little longer," Alfred said. "Damn – he's not picking up."

I.B.

Ivan had no idea what he'd gotten himself into, but he sure wouldn't be kicking the bucket to answer a phone call from Alfred. He promptly ignored it.

He was sad to leave his precious faucet behind – which he'd found with his father when he was a lot younger – but duty had called and he'd wanted to protect his friend and his friend's kid brother.

The drunk-driver car had provided them with the opportunity to escape, which they'd done, although he doubted it would last, what with the enemies being less than a mile away.

There was a whirring engine from down the street, and Ivan wondered if the game was over until they saw the very same Maybach from before racing down the street, fully functioning despite its crumpled front. They crowded on the side of the road and watched in terrified silence as the car stopped before them.

The door was pushed open, and Francis looked at them with a set mouth and a concerned expression in his eyes.

"Get in," he ordered, and nobody hesitated to clamber into the car.

A/N: I hope I did not disappoint with a late chapter! Very sorry for it's lateness! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and thank you for all your support once more! I'm really honoured 4,000 people have stopped to look at Gakutalia! Until next time!

Matthew Jones: Canada
Peter Kirkland: Sealand