Strong, Blond, and Wrong:

Arthur's POV:

It's been one week since Alfred and I had been dismissed, albeit informally, from the 'regular' police force. Today, we would be starting our positions at a brand new investigative unit. Chief Vargas's directions had taken us to a dingy-looking church, a church that was located in perhaps the roughest part of town. On our way there, it had taken a lot of effort on my part to restrain Alfred from leaping out of his seat and tackling the local gang members that we drove past. The big oaf hadn't appreciated the 'friendly' hand gestures that we had received from those punks.

It was a good thing that I was driving too. Lord knows what Alfred would have done if he was behind the wheel. Knowing him, he would have probably harassed them by blaring the cruiser's siren and profusely declaring that he was the law and that justice would be served. I think that it's already been established that my partner's an idiot. I was simply the victim who had been caught up in all of his bullshit.

I parked the cruiser, stood up tall, and smoothed out any potential wrinkles in my uniform. I was starting all over again and making a good first impression was imperative. I was sick of constantly being associated with Alfred and his rather reckless policing tactics. This was my chance to prove to others that I was competent in my work. I may not be as tall or muscular as that hamburger-eating twat, but at least I had the brains to carefully analyze situations, and properly at that.

Alfred yawned and joined me at my side as we walked up the cracked cement steps leading to the Church's front entrance. The building looked like it hadn't been repaired since the Great Depression. A rusted sign with weathered down block letters spelled 'The Aroma of Chigi Church'. Huh, what an odd name.

Alfred didn't seem to be too worried about the haggard appearance of the building, however. He was too busy shitting bricks and clutching onto my arm to truly notice anything else. I rolled my eyes and practically heaved him through the heavy glass doors. Ha! As if there were actually any ghosts in this place. What a preposterously absurd assumption!

"Ciao! Ve, you guys must be new recruits!" A bell-like, presumably male, voice echoed across the open space of the front entrance. I looked forward and gulped down some fear of my own. A faded figure at the end of the corridor began to approach us. The lighting was dim, and the shadows casted by the colourful glass mosaics on both walls of the room only added to my sense of unease.

Alfred yelped, his nails digging a whole two inches into my forearm. "Dude, are you a g-g-ghost?"

I slapped Alfred's hand away and scoffed. "Don't be silly! Of course he's not a ghost! Um, isn't that right now, Mr…" I trailed off as the man, or rather, young boy came into clearer view.

He had a full head of copper-coloured hair and was lanky in build. The most mentionable feature about him was his rounded cheeks and boyish smile, which was touchingly warm and inviting. There was something about him that was inherently likeable. It didn't matter how eloquently he dressed. It was the simple mannerisms like the way how he bounced on the balls of his feet when he walked, or how he absently hummed under his breath that told me he was an overall joyful person to be around. Innocent and naïve was my first impression of him.

The boy's doe-like brown eyes crinkled into crescents when he laughed and brought a mocking hand to his chest. "Me? A ghost? Ve, I sure hope not! My fratello hit my head really, really hard this morning, but I don't think he hit me hard enough to kill me!"

The boy held out his hand, his silver wrist watch glinting in the sun. "No need to call me Mister anything," he smiled. "Feliciano or Feli will do just fine."

I gave Feliciano a quick once-over and immediately felt inadequate. Just how rich was this guy?! He couldn't have been older than nineteen, and yet he was wearing clothes expensive enough to pay for my entire monthly hydro bill. He was wearing a black Armani dress shirt, matching dress pants, and shiny, brown slacks. The only thing that took away from his pristine appearance was the fact that there was one odd piece of hair near his forehead that stuck out from the rest of his otherwise well-kept mane of ear-length curls.

I reached out and shook hands with Feliciano. His hands were small and dainty despite the firm and confident grip that he held my hand with. "Arthur Kirkland, a pleasure," I murmured through gritted teeth. Alfred was driving me absolutely mad. It took a good elbow to his rib-cage to get him to snap out of his deliriousness and shake hands with Feliciano, whose hand had been held out awkwardly for an uncomfortable period of time.

Eventually, Alfred shook hands with Feliciano and muttered his name in between stammering like a nonsensical idiot. He was still worked up about the possibility of there being ghosts in the building. "Jones. Alfred Jones. Nice to meet ya!"

Feliciano winced and politely wrenched his hand out of Alfred's bone-crushing grip. "We should probably get going! The meeting will be starting soon~!"

Feliciano turned on his heels and began to lead us towards the chapel area. Alfred and I followed after him like lost baby ducklings. "So, are you in this program too?" I asked, my heels clacking against the marble floor in a rushed manner. Feliciano walked surprisingly fast for a person of such a small stature. Even Alfred had a hard time matching the young Italian's pace.

Feliciano turned back to look over his shoulder. "Gods no! I can't keep a secret for the life of me." A sad expression crossed over Feliciano's face. "Although, I do have a lot of friends who are undercover right now. Just once, I wish my fratello would let me join them on their mission. Maybe one day I'll finally be able to convince him!"

"Fratello means brother right?" Alfred cut in, and very dumbly at that.

"Si! That's right!" Feliciano grinned. Alfred, the oaf, stood up tall, letting Feliciano's praise fuel his already enormous ego. The bloody American then had the audacity to send me a wink, his way of saying 'keep up with the program, Iggy.' Blast that patronizing git!

My brows furrowed in confusion. "What's your job here then?"

"Oh, I just do all the paper work. Nothing too important, heh," Feliciano shrugged. "Lovi's the one who does most of the work around here."

"Who's Lovi?" Alfred asked.

Feliciano pushed open the grand wooden doors that led into the chapel area, winking as he stepped aside to let us through. "Don't worry," he smirked, and rather cryptically at that. "You'll find out soon enough."

An odd sense of deja-vu overcame me. I'm almost certain that I've heard this somewhere else before…

Feliciano was gone before Alfred and I knew it. The last thing we heard before we stepped into the chapel area were the echoes of Feliciano's frilly-sounding giggles.

Alfred and I exchanged confused looks before we shrugged and entered the main church area. No more than ten people were in the room. They were widely dispersed amongst the wooden benches. Alfred and I took a seat at the back to avoid their stares. I cocked my head to the side. Why were we the only people wearing our uniforms? Were we even in the right place?

I looked around, which didn't help to alleviate my confusion. At the front of the room there stood a wooden pedestal, which was empty at the moment, but behind the pedestal sat a familiar statue of Jesus bound to a cross. Except, it wasn't any other normal statue. At the foot of it, several boxes of pastas of all kinds were stacked on top of each other.

Alfred chuckled to himself. "Looks like we just joined a cult of pasta lovers."

I smirked. "All hail pasta Jesus." Spittle flew everywhere when Alfred just about barked with laughter. He sounded like such a dumbass that I couldn't stop myself from joining him. We were so loud that people turned back to look at us.

I spotted a familiar face sitting near the front. It was that Spaniard who we had trained with back at the academy. Antonio, was it? No matter, I had never been fond of that guy in the first place. He was a bit too cocky for me to tolerate, and that's saying a lot considering the fact that I have to put up with Alfred on a daily basis.

I wasn't exactly fond of the person sitting next to Antonio either. Call it fate, but I could tell already that we weren't going to get along very well. He was tall and slender in frame, with shoulder length blond hair, shrewd blue eyes, and a beard so faint that you could hardly call it stubble. Oddly enough, he reminded me of a frog. He kept licking his lips like a bloody creep as he looked at me over the pair of Gucci sunglasses that were haphazardly perched on the bridge of his snotty nose. I glared back at the Frog, and was about to call him out for staring when the loud clack of heels could be heard near the front of the room.

A skinny, medium-height boy in his twenty-somethings twitched over to stand by the front pedestal. He had auburn coloured hair and was wearing a crisp beige cardigan that was complimented by a burgundy under-shirt. Leering hazel eyes brushed across the room, effectively sending chills up everyone's spines. All chatter in the room died down immediately.

The boy grunted and swore under his breath as he kicked at a stray box of pasta that was lying near the middle of the stage area. Alfred inhaled sharply. I turned to look at him in irritation. "Stop being such a fat fuck," I growled in harsh a whisper. "I told you that we'd go out for lunch after this."

Alfred shook his head. "Don't you know who that is?!" he hissed.

Alfred took my silence as his answer. "That's the Lovino Vargas! I heard that he took down the entire Russian mafia with nothing more than his bare hands and a basket full of tomatoes!"

My eyes widened in realization, and Alfred very unnecessarily punched my shoulder out of excitement. "Dude, I'm so getting his autograph after this!" he gushed.

I had to concur with Alfred on this one. Lovino Vargas was very well-known throughout the police force. On top of being the Chief's grandson, he was one of the best undercover agents that the force had to offer. During the height of his career, he was known for taking down entire crime syndicates, but more famously for his 'Romano' persona. Romano was the Mafioso identity that Lovino assumed when he did his undercover work. Unfortunately, just a year back, his position had been compromised by a close relative, and he had no choice but to resort back to conducting traditional investigations. It was quite a pity, really.

My response was cut short when the explosion of a shout swept across the room. "Che palle! Is this how you show respect to your superior?! Stand the fuck up, you cocky pieces of shit!"

Everyone in the room stood up abruptly. Lovino's thin lips stretched into a disgusted sneer. "Now that's more like it!"

"Welcome to hell, otherwise known as project 21 Hump Street. Now before you bitch at me and ask a shit ton of stupid ass questions, it's important to reflect on why you're all here. Look closely at your neighbors; what do you all have in common?"

Lovino stepped down from the stage and began to patrol up and down the aisle resting in between the wooden benches. Those smart enough looked down to avoid eye contact. Each clack of his heel caused me to wince, albeit involuntarily. Alfred's heavy breathing to the right of me indicated that he was just as scared as I was.

"You are here, simply because you're all angsty-looking motherfuckers. Your task is simple. You will be going undercover as high school students. My job is to bring out your stereotypes and ensure that you blend in with the rest of the pimple-popping herd. Now, I know what you're thinking. That I'm just your typical, temperamental Italian man. Well, screw your judgmental asses for thinking that! I worked my fucking ass off to get where I am today! It wasn't just my anger that helped me take down the Russian drug ring! It was my knowledge of how to use my anger to my own advantage that helped me in the long run."

"What I'm trying to say, is that embracing your stereotypes is one of the most crucial aspects to this kind of work. The stronger that you can fit in with the role, the more credible that you'll be when it comes to forming bonds, gaining information, and acquiring informants."

Lovino cleared his throat, turned on his heels, and set off towards the front of the room. "For starters, why don't we point out some of the common tropes in this room?" No one said a word. Lovino's words were like God's. You didn't challenge him out of fear of being smited, with ruthless insults that is.

Lovino stopped in front of Antonio, who was smirking for whatever reason (with the look on his face you would think that he had just seen the love of his life), and jabbed an accusatory finger at the Spaniard's forehead.

"Take this guy for this example. Yes, I'm talking to you, 'Smiley Mc Dumb Fuck'. I bet that this guy gets laid all the time, but give him one math problem to solve and he'll curl up in in the fetal position and cry like a little bitch."

Antonio's smile fell, while the Frog next to him teared up and choked on his own spit. His stupid 'honhonhon' laugh was extremely irritating to listen to. It was just my luck that Lovino ripped that Frog's tongue right out of his pretentious mouth. "What's so funny, man-slut with a weave? Too busy jerking off to your friend's misery to say anything?"

The Frog simply averted eye contact from there on in. Lovino quickly got bored and moved on to making fun of other people. It was all fun and games until Lovino stopped to stand before Alfred and I. Lovino was about the same height as me, but that didn't stop Alfred from cowering in his presence.

"Didn't anyone tell you fuckers that this was an undercover operation?" Lovino lowered his voice into a harsh whisper.

"N-no sir, we weren't told any-"

Lovino was quick to cut me off when he made a grand gesture at Alfred's slumped over figure. "Or what about this moron? He's what I like to refer to as 'Strong, Blond, and Wrong'. Shaped like a brick, and just as dumb as one too."

I bit my lip to stifle a smirk, ignoring the daggers that Alfred was sending my way. Another pair of angry eyes latched onto me, and it was then that I realized I was a goner.

"Got anything to add, eyebrows?"

I mutely shook my head in horror.

Lovino grinned and proceeded to dig right into my already weak self-esteem. "This pussy is almost too easy to categorize! Lanky, insecure, nerdy as fuck, and most definitely a die-hard Doctor Who fan!"

Alfred bent down to whisper into my ear. "You do have an unhealthy obsession with that show," he conceded.

I grimaced. "Bollocks, he's right. I totally do."

…

After a quick change of clothes (luckily Alfred had an extra pair of sweats in his gym bag, even if they were enormous on me), Lovino had all the recruits stand next to each other in a horizontal line. Alfred was standing to my right, and to my left stood a pale-skinned girl with platinum blonde hair and sharp, indigo eyes. She looked like a doll, as indicated by her child-like face, short stature, and the cutesy white bow fixed into her hair, but don't let her delicate appearance fool you. Alfred had a knife pressed to his throat before he had even considered the thought of flirting with her. Only Pasta Jesus would know how she had managed to sneak that weapon into a church of all places. Dear God, I've just succumbed to the satire of it all, haven't I?

Lovino, as per usual, was pacing back and forth, leering at those who were brave enough to establish eye contact with him. "Rule number one of Hump street…" Lovino looked expectantly to a girl with long, honey-brown hair. "Héderváry?"

"Do not get expelled," Héderváry answered with confidence, batting her lashes at Lovino as she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. Her flirtatious behaviour went right over Lovino's head, however. The Italian was disappointed and was looking for a new victim to prey on.

"Correct. Nobody in the system knows that you're here. Get expelled, and you'll get your sorry ass kicked out of Hump Street."

Lovino stopped to stand in front of the cold woman situated next to me. "Rule number two, Arlovskaya?"

The Belarusian's voice sent a cold chill across the room. "Do not have sexual relations with a student or teacher."

Lovino nodded his head in acknowledgement before turning around to aim a sharp glare at the Frog. "Man-slut, I'm looking at you."

Alfred snickered. I hissed at him to shut up, but the damage had already been done.

Lovino was clacking over to us in no time. The Italian's sharp chin stuck out to look up at the much larger American, his nostrils flaring. "You too, tweedle-dick."

Alfred coughed. "I'm sorry, what?!"

"Don't you play dumb with me," Lovino unabashedly pointed towards Alfred's crotch area. For reasons that will forever escape me, Antonio whimpered out of jealousy.

"You keep that disgusting bulge in your white ass Tommy Hilfiger jeans, you hear me?"

Alfred's jaw gaped open in shock. Blast. I should probably say something. Any good friend would, and so I did. That was my first and only mistake.

"Excuse me, Lovino?" I wavered and was quick to correct myself. "Uh, ahem, sir? I know that we probably don't look like the most competent pair of the bunch, but I can assure you that we take our job very seriously."

Lovino snarled and placed both hands on his hips. At least now I didn't have to worry about him strangling me to death. "Was I talking to you, Browzilla?"

"B-browzilla?!" I spluttered.

Lovino wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Go get yourself some damn fucking tweezers. I feel like I'm reliving puberty all over again just by looking at your face."

I blinked at him in confusion.

"Pubic hair, motherfucker! It's all over your face!"

Oh…

I was too flabbergasted to say anything after that. The rest of the lecture was a blur for me. I only snapped back into focus when Alfred and I were summoned into Satan's lair. Or at least that's what the Frog liked to refer to as Lovino's office anyways. I wonder what type of character degradation he would have us go through this time.