Aha! I finished the chapter! Woo for the first chapter of mine in this story! Enjoy!
Arthur sighed as he watched the red Pontiac peel away from the curb, nearly hitting another car. The silver-haired driver flipped off Alfred and began screaming curses at him, both in English and what sounded like German. Even as the car disappeared from sight, Arthur could still hear the strings of curses coming from the irritated driver.
As he had been walking back to the kitchen, his husband's antics had caught his eye from the window. He shook his head and continued on to the kitchen, where he reprimanded Peter for changing the channel.
"But why does it matter? That lady says the same thing every day!" whined Peter as his 'mom' turned the channel back to the news.
"They might announce some new information on that killer! Besides, those cartoons aren't good for you! You might get bad ideas or something!" said Arthur, cleaning up Alfred's half-eaten breakfast.
Peter just sighed and stuffed some pancakes into his mouth, listening to the news. " The latest police reports show that at least eight people have been killed. The bodies were nearly completely destroyed, and were almost unrecognizable, but as of now, these are the identifications of the bodies," reported the anchorwoman, pausing to shuffle some papers. " Vash Zwingli and his sister Erika Vogel, Francis Bonnefoy and Mathew Williams, Feliks Łukasiewicz and Toris Laurinaitis and Wang Jia Long and his sister Xiao Mei." There was a picture of each person as their name was stated, all of them smiling at the camera.
"See? They don't have any news on that psycho," complained Peter, getting up to put his dish in the dishwasher.
Just as Arthur turned around to reply, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," said Arthur, taking off his pink apron.
When he opened the door, there was a girl standing there with a box in hand. She had long platinum blond hair and dark blue eyes and a white ribbon for a headband. She was wearing the uniform of some delivery company.
"Hello," said Peter, pushing Arthur aside so he could see who was at the door.
"I have a package for a," she paused, looking at a clipboard. "Mr. Arthur Kirkland-Jones. But it's addressed to a Mr. Peter Jones as well."
"That would be me," said Arthur, taking the package from the woman.
"If you could just sign here?" she said, holding out her clipboard to Arthur.
"Sure," replied Arthur, awkwardly taking the clipboard and pen from the woman, still holding the package. When he was done he handed the clipboard back to the woman.
"You should sign as well," the woman said, looking at Peter's pouting face.
"Cool!" he exclaimed as he was offered the clipboard and pen. He scribbled his name and then gave the clipboard back to the woman.
"Thank you. Also, the person who sent this said to open it as soon as possible," said the woman, retreating to a large delivery truck.
"Thanks!" called Peter, waving cheerily at the woman.
Arthur closed the door and brought the box into the kitchen. He set it down on the table and went in search of a knife to open the box with. Peter jumped up and down excitedly, wanting to see what was inside of the box.
Both Arthur and Peter ignored the television as the news anchor announced that they would be showing the picture of the killer one last time before the show ended. A picture came onto the screen as Arthur finally found a knife and approached the box with it.
Arthur took the knife and carefully cut all of the tape away from the box. Peter excitedly opened the box.
It exploded.
The room was full of smoke, and both Peter and Arthur were coughing, their eyes tearing up.
Peter fell to the ground first, twitching and coughing. Soon he was completely still.
Arthur crashed to the ground right after his son. As he coughed, he looked up at the television screen. The picture of the killer was still up. Through his streaming eyes, he looked closely at the picture.
It was grainy, obviously taken from a cell phone. The man in the picture was wearing a long tan trench coat, darker brown pants, a white scarf, black gloves and boots. A tan hat that looked as though it belonged to a raking officer of the Soviet Union mostly covered his face. A small piece of hair wasn't covered by the hat.
It was platinum blond.
Arthur looked closely, and as he was blacking out, he saw some of the man's eye.
It was dark blue.
Alfred was still slumped on the floor when the small Asian woman came looking for him. His eyes were clouded over with tears, and he just sat there silently, in shock.
"What happened?" asked the woman.
Alfred's breath hitched as he thought about what had happened again. He couldn't say it. He would not reiterate the news. He could still hardly believe it.
"Mr. Jones?" asked the woman, concerned about her new friend.
Elizaveta picked up her head from her arms and wiped away the tears staining her cheeks, even though they were instantly replaced by new ones. She took a deep breath and said, "The police called. They told him that his family was taken. There was evidence that it was the Midnight Killer who took them."
The Asian woman gasped, instantly looking sorry for Alfred. "I'll go ask Ludwig if he can go home," she said, starting off towards a door down the hallway. She turned around and said, "Excuse me, but I forgot to introduce myself. I am Sakura Honda."
She disappeared into the meeting room and the two waiting in the hall listened to the indistinct murmurs that came from the door. When she reappeared, she nodded.
This sent Alfred flying down the hall and to the stairwell. He raced down all fifteen flights of stairs and was out in his car in under five minutes. He pulled out of his parking spot without checking behind him first and there was a sharp 'thud'.
Alfred leapt out of the car and raced around to the back to see who or what he hit. It happened to be the driver of the car he had nearly crashed into this morning.
"Ow ow ow ow ow. Shit man! Your driving sucks!" said the albino man as he slowly stood up.
"Sorry dude. I just need to get home as fast as possible," replied Alfred, looking rather uncomfortable.
"What, you just hit someone with your car and say, 'oh sorry, I have to go' and leave? That's a load of shit! The awesome me, Gilbert Beilschmidt, does not take this kind of crap!" he yelled.
"Get out of my face! I need to get home!" Alfred yelled back, trying to get back into the driver's seat.
"No way! The awesome me will not leave until I receive compensation!" declared Gilbert, planting himself in front of Alfred.
"For Christ's sake man, move! My family was freaking abducted!" Alfred practically screamed at Gilbert.
"You nearly f-" Gilbert started, but was stopped when Elizaveta slammed his head with a frying pan.
Alfred stood there for a moment, staring as his secretary pulled the unconscious albino out of the way. "Go!" Elizaveta said, still dragging Gilbert away.
Alfred looked as though he was going to protest, but Elizaveta held up her frying pan, threatening to hit him if he didn't leave.
"Thanks!" yelled Alfred as he sped out of the parking lot, cutting off some cars and nearly crashing into a telephone pole.
Alfred had finally reached his home. It had only taken him fifteen minutes, what with him speeding and breaking nearly every driving law ever made. What he saw was a blockade of police cars and his home cordoned off with yellow caution tape.
He quickly ducked under the tape and made his way towards the front door. None of the officers noticed, they were all busy consulting one another on some matter.
Inside the house everything seemed normal. But the lack of movement and noise made it seem dark and oppressing, even though it was midday. As Alfred looked around, any every day object seemed to evoke some sort of memory. A pink apron that Arthur would always wear. Alfred would always tease him about it. A single shoe. Alfred always told Peter to keep those shoes together. A picture-less frame. Alfred remembered the time they went out to get a family photo, it had been a total disaster, so they just left it empty.
"Hey, you! This is a crime scene! Only law enforcement officers can-"
"You should be looking for them," Alfred said, cutting off the officer mid-speech.
"Wha-?" the officer was saved from having to respond by the arrival of his superior. "Officer Bondevik!"
The officer was had silver hair and violet eyes. He also looked as though he had just gotten out of bed.
"Who're you?" asked the man, completely ignoring the other officer.
"Alfred F. Jones," replied Alfred, still somewhat shaky from the news of his family's disappearance.
"A pleasure," said a different voice, this one colder and more distant. This was the same voice as on the telephone.
"Inspector Bondevik!" exclaimed the forgotten police officer.
This man had light blond hair and dull blue eyes. Alfred looked into them but couldn't see anything.
"Wait, why do the have the same last names?" asked Alfred, confused.
"They're brothers! The best duo in the whole region. The Bondevik Brothers!" replied the man excitedly, though he stopped speaking when both of the brothers' cold eyes were turned on him.
"I am Lukas Bondevik. The elder brother," said the blue-eyed man, gazing intently at Alfred.
"I'm Emil Bondevik, the younger brother," said the officer, looking at Alfred with sympathy.
"Nice to meet you. Not to be rude, but do you know where my family is?" asked Alfred, looking at the brothers expectantly.
When Arthur regained consciousness, he was sitting in a small, metal room; his arms and legs were bound with rope. As he exhaled out, he noticed that his breath clouded in the air. He was cold.
"You jerk! I thought you had left me!" cried Peter from somewhere behind him.
"It's alright, love. We'll be alright," said Arthur on reflex, even though he was pretty sure they would die.
"Where's Dad?" asked Peter, his voice shaking.
"I'm not sure love. But I know he'll come and save us," replied Arthur, while he was silently thinking, 'Alfred, where are you? Will you get here in time?'
Arthur could hear his son's sniffling and knew he was crying.
"I don't want to die," cried Peter, his voice cracking in the middle of the sentence.
"We're not going to die. Not here!" replied Arthur savagely. He wouldn't stand for this. There was no way he would let his little eight-year-old die.
"B-but the lady on the n-news s-said that no one e-ever lived past the t-twenty-fourth hour," said Peter, now sobbing.
Just as Arthur was about to reply, the door was slammed open. A man dressed in a tan trench coat, darker pants, a white scarf and black gloves and boots as well as a Soviet-looking hat stood in the doorway.
It was the Midnight Killer.
"Time to begin, da?"
Mwahahaha! Cliffhanger! Sorry, but I just HAD to. And yes, the Asian woman was genderbent Japan. Sorry if I killed off any of your favorite characters. There HAD to be victims. And there will be more! But I'm not telling who.