Hetalia - Down the Rabbit Hole

Chapter 11! Welcome new followers and with nothing much to say, let's get right into it,

Enjoy!

Downtown Spades District, Cyan Apartments, Alfred Jones' and Matthew Williams' Apartment.

'Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck!' Matthew Williams cursed as he stormed around the small room, hands twisted into his hair tight enough to rip the follicles out. Alfred stood there with his arms open in an attempt to pacify him.

'Bro, just- just calm down okay?'

'Calm?! How can I be fucking calm? I could handle the Columbia gig. I could get my head around working with Britannia. However, I cannot, cannot accept that we have had our private lives spied on!'

His twin's words prompted Alfred to scan the room, horribly reminded that it was bugged, and that they were probably still listening to their every word. Their own home wasn't safe nor private, it hadn't been for a long time. The thought made him shiver and he got out his phone.

'Do they know about the Kirkland's?' He texted.

Matthew shook his head and took the phone from him to type his response. 'I was out the house when you called. Phone still has the anti bug on it.'

Alfred allowed himself a small sigh of much needed relief. At least they'd dodged that bullet. His brother's face hadn't softened any less though, and Alfred gulped when he reached for him. 'Look Matt, I'm sorry okay? I didn't mean for all this to blow up so much.'

'A bit fucking late for that, eh?' Matthew snapped back at him with a bitter laugh and Alfred's brows drew together. His hand curled to extend his index and jabbed it to Matthew's chest.

'Yeah. It is too late to be regretting decisions, but life's a bitch like that. You make a choice, and you suck up the consequences. Well, Columbia was the decision we made. Would I have less bruises and broken bones if we hadn't? Absolutely. Would we be in this situation now? No. But Matt,' Alfred's eyes lit up with wonder, 'Columbia is good for this city, we have done good for this city. We've got a sweet thing here, and even now, I wouldn't change it for anything.'

Matthew stared back at him, jaw set, but his eyes screamed anything but anger; they were afraid, afraid for his brother, afraid for their future and security. The truth that what they were doing was no longer some thrilling secret between them. They had been exposed, and if they didn't play their cards right, they would get taken in; Alfred likely to some god-knows super max facility that could contain his super strength.

'I'm just…scared Alfred.' Matthew confessed with a crack, his clenched fists trembling at his sides.

Alfred's hand moved to his twin's shoulder and pulled him into an embrace. 'I know bro. I know… I am to. But hey, with this Guardian thing, we aren't in any rush. Let's keep it on the down low, read through the drive, give it some time, and then make our decision. Okay?'

Matthew sniffed as he pulled away. 'And what if it's a decision they don't like? What then, Al? Incarceration? Live on the run the rest of our lives?'

'Hey! It won't come to that! These guys are the government, right? Is they have any decency, they'll respect our decision. Whatever it is.' Alfred proclaimed with more confidence than he felt, and while Matthew nodded, his pressed together lips told that he'd hadn't brought the act.

'Well, you know what they say. Fake it till you make it.' Alfred thought as he clapped Matthew on the back and leant down to hoist the two duffles Matthew had packed under his arms.

'So, ready to do some serious levelling up bro?' He beamed with his brightest grin, holding out his fist.

Matthew eyed it for a second before his lips gave away to a small, almost reluctant smile of his own, and he bumped the fist back.

'Hell yeah.'

Spades District, 221 Baker's Street, The Kirkland Residence.

Alfred glanced back over his shoulder back to Matthew when they stepped out the lift and up to the Kirkland's front door. 'Ready?'

His brother gulped but nodded his head. 'Let's do this.'

Alfred smiled back, however, before he could knock, the door was wretched up to reveal Seamus' flush face that turned ecstatic when he saw Alfred and Matthew standing there.

'You're back! Get yourselves in here! Allistor, Dylan! Alfred and Matthew are here!' Seamus yelled as he near pulled the two brothers inside, Alfred silently chuckling at Matthew's quiet gasp when he saw the incredible apartment. They stopped at the centre of the floor when the door to the room that Alfred had carried Britannia into was opened, and Allistor and Dylan stepped out; their faces brightened when they saw them.

'It's good to see the two of you. Acadia, or Matthew, glad to have you on board.' Allistor said with an extended hand. Unbelievably, Alfred could of sworn that he saw the faintest of tints colour his twin's cheeks when he returned the handshake. Oh, he would have to follow up on that later.

'How is Britannia? Alfred said he was in a bad way.' Matthew asked with an averted gaze as Allistor dropped their hands and crossed them over his chest.

'He's recovering steadily. It'll be perhaps a day or two enough he'll be strong enough to move,' The Scot replied and then motioned for them to follow him. 'Come. I'll show you where you're sleeping.'

'Aren't we going to start training?' Alfred asked as he followed along with Matthew up the stairs with Allistor taking the lead. Behind them, Seamus gave them a small wave and turned to head back into the room Britannia slept.

At the top of the stairs, Alfred saw and gasped at the huge baloney to his left behind a wall of glass, a turquoise lit up pool built into the stone. Honestly, the Kirklands' wealth was borderline ridiculous. Allistor took them in the opposite direction through a black door that expanded into another hallway; five more doors lined it's cream walls.

'Mine, Seamus', Dylan's, Arthur's,' Allistor labelled with a point to the respective door and halted between Arthur's and the unnamed one, 'Guest. Matthew, you take this one. Alfred, you can take Arthur's while he's staying at the old man's out of the city.'

'He's staying at your dad's?,' Alfred frowned, his stomach knotting with guilt when he realised he hadn't asked after him all evening (though in his defence, it had been a very surreal one). 'Not here?'

'The old man is…protective with Arthur. When he heard that the school had been attacked, he'd insisted that Arthur stay with him for a few days until things cooled off.' Allistor lied smoothly unbeknownst to Alfred, who raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

'Seriously?,' He asked, finding the story hard to swallow. Even if Arthur's father was overprotective of his son, surely to pull him out of Terra entirely was too extreme. 'A bit much isn't it?'

'At the end of the day, he gets final say,' Allistor concluded and moved to open Arthur's bedroom door for Alfred. 'Besides, it keeps Arthur in the dark out you and Matthew.'

Alfred's brow dropped. 'You don't want Arthur to know? I thought- I thought that he was onboard with Britannia?'

Allistor's lip curled and his eyes of Greek-fire focused to lasers on Alfred, pinning him where he stood. 'Arthur can never know that you and Columbia are one of the same,' He growled and Alfred struggled to suppress the urge to take a step back from the eldest Kirkland's intensity. 'I'll say it again. Arthur isn't, and won't ever be, a part of this team, is that clear?'

'Crystal,' Alfred gulped, and his shoulders sagged. 'I just- I don't want to lie to him. Friends don't keep secrets from each other, y'know?'

It was Allistor's turn to raise a brow, thick and bushy. 'Friends? You consider Arthur your friend?'

'Of course! We're buddies! Wait- why? Has he said something?' Alfred stuttered, barely registering the rush of blood to his cheeks. Why had Allistor thought that were weird? He and Arthur were absolutely friends, they'd been through enough life threatening bonding moments to be, hadn't they? They were buds. Friends. Mates…(Soul Mat- No!)

Allistor's only response was a low chuckle accompanied with a shake of his head as he grabbed Alfred by the shoulder and shoved him into Arthur's bedroom.

'Who'd a funk? Arthur has a friend.' Alfred distantly heard the man breathe under his breath as he stood in the doorway with wide eyes.

Arthur's room was elegantly modern. The wall opposite to where he stood, like large portions of the penthouse, was entirely made of glass and it offered a beautiful view of Spades' harbour bay and lighthouse. The night illuminated by hundreds of winking neon lights of blue and purple. The furniture in the room was minimally in quantity, though certainly not quality; a sleek dresser was pushed against the same wall the doorway protruded from, and on the wall to Alfred's right was a wide HD screen that hung parallel to the bed. And what a bed it was!

A queen, no Californian, canopy bed with pearlised sheets of silk that floated from each post and oyster grey covers and pillows puffed up enough to closer resemble a nest than an actual bed.

'It looks like a princess'.' Alfred thought aloud as he made his way over the plush carpet, dropping his bag at the ottoman at the end of the bed, and bent over to test the mattress. He found it firm without a single groan of a spring, immediately putting the ratty one that belonged to his apartment to shame.

'You'd say otherwise if you knew what he was like in the mornings.' Allistor laughed from against the doorframe, and Alfred's stomach fluttered at the imaginary image of waking up beside Arthur in bed. Golden locks tussled to gravity defying proportions, warm, pale fitting form pressed against his… Skin to skin…

Alfred mentally slapped himself hard. 'Stop it you' he scolded the same green-eyed monster that purred at the fantasy; the same one that had emerged when Bonnefoy had flirted with Arthur in front of him.

His jaw stretched like a lion's when a yawn escaped him. The fatigue of the day finally catching up with him. 'You should get some sleep. You're gonna need all of it for what I've got in store tomorrow.' Allistor grinned before he patted the doorframe and started off back down the hallway they had came.

'Yeah. Night dude!' Alfred called after him and leant down to unpack the contents of his duffel.

'Oh, and one more thing,' Allistor's head popped out in the doorway. 'We start at dawn.'

'What?!' Alfred cried, but the Scot had already gone for good. With nothing left, Alfred grumbled to himself as he swiftly changed out of Allistor's borrowed outfit into a pair of briefs, before climbing into Arthur's bed and rolled into a comfortable position; Arthur's scent pleasantly surrounding as he drifted off.

The next morning.

Alfred huffed, beads of perspiration trailing down the sides of his temples as he bounced on the balls of his bare feet and swung to land a solid hit against the hand target gloved hand. Allistor gave him an approving nod and rightened his hands in position again, keeping light on his feet to match Alfred's pace. True to his word, Allistor had woken him at dawn sharp, and brought Alfred down into the Kirklands' gym/dojo below the living room to put him through a series of fitness tests. The latest one being that of coordination.

'Good. Now, all the Kirklands' special skills and roles. Go.' Allistor ordered and Alfred licked his lips and jumped to avoid Allistor's testing kick.

'Okay. Dylan's the hacker, gadget guy and explosive's expert. Rarely on the field, specialised in support instead. Prefers throwing projectiles.' He recited the information Allistor had drilled into him during his examination (that had involved a lot of prodding and 'tell me when it starts to hurt''s).

Allistor gave him another curt nod, feigning left as he did. 'Technically we're all trained to be considered support for Britannia. Go on.'

'Seamus is an ace sniper and good at stealth, making him the scout. He can also drive slash pilot anything.'

'Don't let him hear that. His head's big enough.' Allistor smirked and ducked under Alfred's swipe.

Alfred continued to press his advance with aggressive momentum. 'You're trained as a war medic. The old Britannia trained you to be the muscle of the team, as well as the leader. Britannia's coordinator.' Alfred saw Allistor's brow draw together, and immediately felt terrible for it. It was clear that Allistor considered Britannia's insistence to go out without a coordinator a failure on his part; to spend your whole life training to be in a partnership, only to have said partner reject you had to be crushing.

'And finally?' Allistor lowly prompted and Alfred had to clear his suddenly tight throat.

'A-Arthur, sharp shooter, cat burglar and pickpocket. Multi trained with weapon types, but his main is the bow and sword. He and Britannia were trained together.' He finished with a missable crack in his voice. Even with Allistor's in-depth explanation totally making sense why Arthur was able to floor three men twice his size, Alfred still had difficulty accepting that Arthur had assassin equivalent training. It was not because he had any doubts about his capability, nu-uh. It was the horrible scenarios that ran through Alfred's head that had him on edge; play scenes of Arthur being surrounded by knives and guns, one hundred to one. Arthur, laying on the ground in a pool of blood, a bullet hole between his dull dead eyes. Arthur, screaming in agony, tears streaking down his cheeks, his back ripped to shreds like Britannia's…

'Smack that look off your face,' Allistor grunted and took the presented advantage to box the dazed American upside the head. 'If I were Arthur, you'd already be on the floor.'

'Allistor,' Alfred blurted before he could stop himself, the make believe track of Arthur screaming on a hellish repeat cycle. 'How can you stand it? Knowing that the ones you love could die out there.'

The Scot's face hardened. 'Look laddie. I get where you're coming from, I really do. But remember that we have been at this since we've been babes. Arthur has been doing this his whole life. It's sweet that you're worried about what he's been through, but get it into your head that no good will come of stressing over the past.'

The churning of Alfred's stomach slowly calmed as he absorbed Allistor's wise words. He was right. The past was the past, and he couldn't change that. Arthur was trying to live a normal life now, and Alfred took that thought as a security blanket. With it, he knew he could fully commit to helping Britannia. Britannia was probably eager to keep Arthur out of it all as well, away from danger.

Alfred gave Allistor a grateful nod. 'Thanks man. I needed to hear that.'

'Anytime lad,' Allistor returned softly, and then the impish winkle returned to his eye. 'Right. Enough sappy chat. To the weights!'

A few hours later…

'How-much-longer.' Alfred gasped between heavy pants, his chest heaving, unable to get enough oxygen to keep up with his body. Body slick with sweat, forearms bulging, Alfred trembled as he held his push up position, tightening his core. Sitting on top of him, actually sitting crosslegged balanced on his back, Allistor leisurely smacked his lips and gave a bounce that caused Alfred's palm to slip an inch against the tatami mats that made up the dojo's flooring.

Alfred had been holding up Allistor, plus the additional weights he in turn held, for almost an hour now, and his back and shoulders were creeping close to cramping.

'Another ten minutes me thinks.' Allistor replied breezily, and Alfred groaned as his muscles fibres elevated to a higher octave of screaming. Ten minutes? He wasn't going to last another ten seconds.

'Allistor…I gotta- I gotta take a break.' He pleaded, dangerously close to caving in under the weight, when it was abruptly gone. Alfred let himself go limp, not even caring when his face mushed against the floor. Boneless, spent, his lungs and heart working in maximum overdrive as he shamelessly panted for breath. He had greatly underestimated how tough this was going to be. He had never been pushed this far whilst fighting as Columbia.

'Never. Moving. Again.' He wheezed, and groaned when he felt himself be manually rolled onto his back. Allistor grinned down at him as he held out a chilled bottle of glorious H2O, elixir of the gods. Tempted to open his mouth and ask Allistor to start pouring, Alfred swiped the bottle, briefly pressing the cool surface to his burning forehead before he uncapped it and downed the liquid. As he did so, he felt Allistor crouch down beside and take his throbbing arm to examine it.

'You've got a good gasp on your limits.' Allistor said with an impression hum and began to knead and massage the arm, draining the lactic acid from it.

'Where did you learn that?' He sighed when Allistor moved to his other arm.

'Temple in Thailand. Spent weeks mastering acupressure, twi no and trigger point therapy.' The Scot muttered, and Alfred couldn't hold back an unintentional moan when he was flipped again and Allistor switched to working out the knots in his back with deep, long strokes.

'Medic. Right…Hey, trigger point, does that mean that you can do that thing where if you hit specific nerve points, you can paralyse a guy?'

'Cross me and you won't like the answer.' Allistor darkly teased and moved back to allow Alfred to sit up.

'You're one scary dude, dude. How'd I do by the way? Close to lifting the door?' Alfred asked hopefully.

'Lifting the door, aye. Being able to fight alongside Britannia though…' Allistor trailed off uncertainly, and Alfred felt his stomach drop.

'But- but you said that my technique was alright!' He cried as he scrambled to his feet.

'Aye, except 'alright' isn't going to cut it if you and Britannia come up against the woman in white,' Allistor snapped back, causing Alfred to wince at the memory of when he had been too slow to stop himself from being grabbed and thrown into Britannia, sending them both overboard. She had beaten their asses. Hard. 'Britannia couldn't keep her back by himself, and the way your fighting is now, you'll get in the way more than helping.'

Had to admit, that hurt. Really hurt. It must of showed on his face because Allistor gave a disappointed sigh and motioned upstairs with a throwaway hand. 'Go take a break while I set up for the next bit. There's orange slices in the fridge.'

Alfred didn't give any response, and turned away to walk up the stairs into the living room where Matthew and Dylan worked. The early afternoon sun shone bright to illuminate the airy room and the air was lighter and cooler than the level below. Fruit dishes and pitchers of water and orange juice had been set on the dining table for snacking, and over on the coffee table by the party sofa, the 3D hologram of N.O.V.A labs slow spun; red and white spots were strategically positioned throughout the complex to symbolise cameras and other security measures. The glass surface near entirely covered by electronic tools, gadgets and wiring.

Sat on the left sofa side, with his coordinator set up spread out, Matthew held a screwdriver between his teeth and rotated Britannia's gas mask in his hands. Opposite him, Dylan Kirkland sat holding up the Columbia suit as he sewed shut a tear in the fabric. To his surprise and delight, Alfred saw that a few alternations had been made along with the patch job, namely, the suit had been enforced in places with what looked like kevlar padding. Bulletproof suit, nice.

Matthew's face lit up when he saw Alfred, and wrinkled his nose at his sweat slick appearance. 'You look awful.' He smirked before going to back to admiring the inside of Britannia's mask.

'How's Allistor treating you?' Dylan asked without looking away from his work; combing over every thread, pulling at the fabric to test it's durability.

Alfred gave out a sigh as he made his way for the Kirklands' kitchen fridge. 'I like, expected it to be tough, but like- I dunno…He's hard on me.'

Dylan looked up. 'He has to be though if you're going to lift that door in time.' He rationalised, and Alfred's shoulders slumped as he searched for the promised orange slices amongst all the fresh produce.

'I know. But goddammit it doesn't make it any easier,' He sulked before he found the desired fruit and sucked on a slice. 'How's things on your end coming?'

'Great, eh! Dylan's been upgrading your suit and I've been tinkering with the goggles' interface. Should be less buggy now.' Matthew beamed, and Alfred let bad for the jab of jealousy in his gut at his brother's smooth progress. Change topic. Now.

'What's that?' He quickly asked and pointed at the shape sitting on Dylan's knees, half hidden by the Columbia suit. After carefully setting said suit down, Dylan gripped the shape and held it up for a better view. It was a black compound bow with matching full quiver.

'Britannia's oneida kestrel. 31 inches, 70lbs, smooth, silent, strong.' Dylan introduced, tilting the weapon so that it could be marvelled at from all angles; surprisingly, none of the arrows slid out or about loose in their quiver. How handy, Alfred thought.

'How come I've never seen him with a bow if he's reportedly so good with one?' He questioned, and Dylan gave out a loud laugh.

'No 'reportedly' about it. Britannia's a crack shot, with the only reason that you haven't seen him with a bow is because he hasn't felt the need to use it with this city's crime level.'

'Cocky, eh?' Matthew scoffed.

Dylan shrugged as he put down the bow. 'Yeah, can't deny that,' He smirked, and then frowned when he looked past to where the stairs were. 'What are you doing dressed like that?'

Alfred turned to look and saw Seamus with his arms folded in a army kevlar vest and combat boots, looking ready to storm a battlefield. The irishman's eyes shifted to meet Alfred's, and a shit eating grin spread across his face when he pointed at him.

'It's you and me, cupcake. Downstairs, right now.'

Alfred gave a short laugh, that trailed off when he saw that Seamus was serious. 'Um, dude, I'd like love to- but Allistor is probably wanting me to get back to training.'

'No fear. The fight's Allistor approved, wants us to juke it out to work on your technique,' Seamus said with a crack of his knuckles and cocked his head with theatrical pout. 'Unless, you don't think you're up to it?' He taunted.

That did it. Alfred finished off his slice by shoving it whole into his mouth, and chewed furiously as he marched over to stand toe to toe with Seamus, puffed up chest against chest.

'Let's fucking go bro.'

Place your bets, place your bets!

So this chapter is entirely Alfred's chapter, seeing his and Matthew's reaction to Germania's invitation and how they plan to move forward with the Kirkland's. We get to see Alfred finally question why Arthur isn't around (*looks into the camera like I'm on the Office*) and hints of his developing crush on Arthur.

The training section of the chapter is to essentially level Alfred up into a more capable hero and reveal information about the Kirklands' and their roles and skills. Insecurities are also a theme in this chapter, with Allistor being Britannia's rejected coordinator and Alfred about being/viewed as weak, all of which will be expanded on in later chapters.

All in all, a character building chapter.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did, it would be brilliant if you took the time to leave a review telling me your thoughts, opinions and questions. Once again thank you for reading and as always,

Until next time folks!