Down the Rabbit Hole

Chapter 24! And this chapter, boy, let's just say this is some chapter. Huge, huge apologises for being away for so long. I have deadlines coming up fast, and I have also started writing for the Voltron fandom, so that's also eating into my time alongwith having a life.

We are almost finished with this fic, maybe three chapters left to go? Super hyped to get this done and see what you all think :D

Thank you so much to all you who reviewed, especially considering my lack of activity. It truly means the world.

Now without further ado, the next chapter!

Enjoy!

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

'Ahem.'

Alfred raised an eyebrow at the Brit, and cocked his head in confusion when he suggestively nodded to Allistor as the lift doors pinged! open to reveal the Kirkland's underground garage; the lofty stone basement lined by sleek cars so expensive that Alfred could of drooled.

Seamus and Allistor were the first out of the elevator, and headed straight for the bumblebee yellow Lamborghini, leaving him and Arthur alone to talk.

'What?'

'I believe you made me a promise?,' Arthur said, and Alfred continued to stare blankly back. 'On the baloney. The night after you brought me in with my back? You promised me you would say a certain something to Allistor.'

The lightbulb went off, and Alfred gulped thickly as his stare slid away over to where Allistor leant against the Lamborghini, his bulging forearms never looking more threatening.

'Right now?'

'Yes. Right now.' Arthur's eyes twinkled with an emerald glint, and teasingly laced his fingers with Alfred's to pull him along over to where his brothers waited. Seamus nodded to them as they approached, and slid into the driver's seat whilst Arthur took shotgun. Alfred hovered with his hand on the handle.

'You waitin' for a good luck kiss or something, laddie?' Allistor cracked, and Alfred sent off a quick prayer before he readied to release the floodgates. He could feel Arthur's and Seamus' stares on him, so focused they could of burnt.

'No. Nothing, nothing at all…Matron,' Alfred smirked, only to have it drop when he saw the look on the Scot's face. He had never seen such a vivd red.

'Okay, great talk, byeeee~!,' He blurted before he dived through the window into the backseat and slapped the back of Seamus' seat. 'Drive man, drive!'

'What FUCK did you just say?!'

'Drive!'

Spades District, Indigo Light's Street, The Train Station.

'He's never gonna let you back in the house again!' Seamus howled, slapping over the wheel as he pulled up in a dimly-lit back alley, not ten metres from Spades' train station where the jangle of crossing bells, the squeal of metal on metal and churn and chug of the train's engines drowned out the chatter of their riders.

'Oh, his face!,' Arthur wheezed, clutching his stomach as he laughed; the sound making Alfred's stomach flutter. 'I would have paid to have taken a picture!'

'Yeah, yeah. Glad you're laughing it up now, because when we get back, I'll be lucky if Allistor doesn't decide to pop my head off.' Alfred grumbled with his head rested back against the soft leather head rest, and Arthur twisted in his seat shoot him a pitying look.

'We had a good run, love.'

'Wow. They weren't kidding when they said you were cold.' Alfred bat back to pull a chuckle form Arthur and Seamus drummed his fingers on the dash.

'Okay girls, it's eleven. Good luck.'

'Thanks for the lift.' Alfred said before he copied Arthur's example and climbed out, shutting the car door as gently as he could; it was such a sweet car.

As Seamus reared the engine and tore away to swerve around the corner out of sight, Arthur shot Alfred an amused smirk as his stare dragged after it longingly. 'You know there's no way it's going to happen. Yellow is Seamus' baby.'

'Not even if I ask really nicely?' Alfred tried, only to have Arthur return with a scoff as he made for the metal fire escape attached to the building to their right.

'As Oz would say "Not on your nelly!"' He threw back over his shoulder and leapt high to grab onto the fire escape's bottom platform and heave himself up.

Alfred watched appreciatively as Arthur began to parkour his way up to the roof of the delict building. Arthur's gymnastic displays always a pleasure, not just for the flattering angles they provided his audience with (angles that Alfred was now shamelessly allowed to enjoy), but for the hypnotising lean gracefulness of his movements. The way that Arthur's legs extended into the long splits, the power with how he was effortlessly able to support his entire body weight with one hand alone— it sent shivers down Alfred's spine, and made heat pool in his lower gut.

How had he been so blessed that this breathtakingly beautiful man was in love with him?

When Arthur was the last three floors from the top, Alfred shook his head out and tensed his legs before he straightened up to launch up himself like a rocket. His boots loudly crushed against the roof's gravel just as the top of Arthur's head peeked over the brick ledge.

'Show-off.'

'You know, I'm never against carrying you. You weigh, like, nothing,' Alfred grinned as Arthur dropped down and approached, looking down to the train station in the next block over. 'In fact, I bet I could of thrown you, jumped, caught you, and stuck the landing.'

'Don't be ridiculous. As if I'd ever allow you to throw me around like a rag doll. Oh— fantastic, we're the last ones to arrive.' Arthur huffed, Alfred following his stare to see that he was right.

Oz, King, North, Svea, and Gaul were already on top of the station roof, stood in a loose circle whilst the metros hummed and screeched below them. Arthur strode ahead, propping up a boot to jump down, when Alfred's hand snapped forward and yanked him back.

'What?' The Brit hissed, and Alfred's eyes narrowed on Gaul, unable to ignore the nauseating twist of the his gut at the sight of the frenchman's face. Arthur noticed his glare, and sighed before he pulled his arm out of his grip.

'It's just one job. One we can trust him to do.'

'It's not the mission. I don't trust him to behave himself around you.' Alfred gritted through his teeth.

Arthur barked a laugh, 'Alfred Jones, I never pegged you for the big-bad alpha jealousy type,' He chuckled, though his laughter died off when he saw that Alfred was serious. With a sigh, 'Honestly,' Arthur removed his mask before he gripped Alfred by the collar, and pulled him down into a long, deep french-kiss; the slipping dip and dart of his clever tongue into the other's mouth drawing a low moan from the American as his rigidness melted, and he found his hands to move on their own as they slid into gold locks and ventured lower to massage a toned buttock.

'That—was…' Alfred gasped flushed when Arthur broke away, heatedly tugging on his lower lip with his teeth, before he released him, stretched onto his tiptoes and pecked Alfred on the tip of his nose.

'There's no competition love, you know that.' He purred, husky rumble of his voice and cocky confidence about him making Alfred's legs turn to jello and steam whistle out of his ears whilst Arthur replaced his mask.

'Nu-uh.' He nodded numbly, thoughts a gooey scrambled mess as his brain struggled to reboot.

'Alfred.'

'Nu-uh.'

'We should go.' Arthur reminded with the smuggest smirk before he swaggered forward and suavely leapt down.

'Yeah.' Alfred mumbled as his feet stumbled over themselves. When he found them again, and swiftly stepped after Arthur, he was unable to swipe off his ridiculously happy grin as he fell.

Again, how was he so blessed?

'G'day ya wankers—Woah, bloody hell. New threads Britannia?' Oz whistled out a low impressed note as Arthur came up from his landing tuck and roll, Alfred close behind him as they joined the other vigilantes.

'For the special occasions.' Britannia bat back, and there was an near audible shuffle of pleasant surprise. The Britannia Angel? Bantering?

North wavered over and curiously ran his index down Britannia's shoulder, tasting the woven enchantments in the fabric. 'Impressive. How long did this take you?'

'Years, if you'll believe it.'

'I do. King could do with one.'

'Hey! My suit rocks!' King exclaimed.

'You tripped on your cape on the way over here.' Svea deadpanned to make King's face turn a brilliant shade of red.

'No! I—That's not true, Britannia, that's not true. Slander! Slander I say!'

Britannia gave a low chuckle, and pricked up his ears when he saw Oz nudge and lean in to Alfred's ear. 'Mate, you didn't say you'd be arriving with Britannia!'

'Yeah. We're cool now.' Alfred grinned back to make Arthur's heart flutter, and he find himself wanting to reach out for his hand, when—

'Oh my god! That's Britannia! Britannia! Oh—and King, Columbia! Janet, Janet! Look!' A woman down below on one of the platforms cried out, and there was a chorus of excitement as more and more pedestrians began to notice the vigilantes' presence on top; many scrambling to take out their phones.

'Perhaps, it is time we moved on.' Gaul muttered, his long black gentleman's coat flapping in the wind, and everyone gave a nod of agreement.

Britannia straightened up. 'Alright everyone. We all have our missions,' He announced just a train began to pull out of the station for Spades, 'Check in on comms before engaging. Columbia, Gaul, on me!'

With that, Britannia ran and vaulted over the barrier, using his catlike agility to skilfully land on the moving train's roof with a metallic bang!

Back on the station roof, Gaul immediately took off after Britannia, with Alfred wishing his Guardians luck before he followed to.

Spades District, Onyx York Street, Cardverse.

When the train passed over the street, Britannia, Columbia and Gaul dropped off onto a building behind Cardverse, the club itself built with many layered tiers like that of a cake; lit up in indigo, blue and purple spotlights with electro-bass music thumping in the night.

'Right. The launch event is taking place on the first floor of three, with there being a large underground area that serves as the club's warehouse.' Allistor's voice crackled with a static pop in all their ears as they gazed down on the extensive queue that waited outside to trickle in.

'That's gotta be where Wang is stashing 'X' and the captives.' Alfred whispered.

'Gaul, where do you suspect Wang will have your information?' Britannia muttered to Gaul, the frenchman's stare intent on the upper tier of the club building.

'His office, on the top tier, most likely locked down in a vault.' He said.

'Cymru, update on Wang's location?' Britannia asked.

'Wang's in the VIP lounge on the third floor. The first and second floors are dance floors and packed with people.' Dylan answered, and there was another static pop when Matthew opened his mic.

'The way down to the warehouse is mostly clear. See that window between the drainpipe and sign? Go through that and there's a network of staff hallways you can use to get to the basement— Uh, Eíres? When you spotted the place, how many men did you say Wang had?'

'Twenty-one. Seven for each floor.' Seamus returned.

Matthew sighed, 'You gonna stick with that?'

'You gonna tell me I'm wrong? Because I'll tell you, I am never wrong.'

'Guys! Focus!' Alfred snapped to Britannia's right, the American's jaw squared.

'My point is, there are nearly twice that number in there.' Matthew laid out, and there was a collective groan.

Britannia rubbed his temple as he felt the early throb of a headache coming on. 'Cymru?'

'Unfortunately, Acadia's right. Wang's brought in more men.' Dylan confirmed.

'Since last night?!' Seamus squawked, and Gaul looked at Britannia and offered a shrug.

'You did say that he was expecting you.'

'Wang's had nearly two days to step up security. It makes no sense for him to change it overnight,' Allistor muttered, 'I don't like this Britannia.'

'A few more men is nothing we won't be able to handle. We are not aborting the mission. Cymru, an estimate on the new numbers?' Britannia requested, and there was a quick burst of mouse clicks and keyboard tapping.

'At least forty, likely all armed.'

Britannia sighed and looked between Columbia and Gaul. 'I suppose we had better watch ourselves then.'

Gaul smiled, and they all straightened up as one. Britannia brought his finger up to tap his earpiece and speak over the vigilantes' shared channel. It was time to start the mission.

'This is Britannia with Columbia and Gaul. Initiating mission in T minus thirty seconds.'

'Understood. This is North outside of Clubs.'

'Ten-four, ya boy Oz ready at Hearts.'

'King and Svea, good to go on Diamonds.'

Columbia tapped in his ear piece to join in. 'Alright Guardians, let's move out!'

There was a chorus of cheers, and Britannia raised a eyebrow when they dropped out of the channel. '"Let's move out"?'. In the corner of his eye, he saw Gaul back up for a running jump.

'Look, I haven't nailed down the team call yet, okay?' Columbia pouted as he braced to run when Gaul passed him and launched himself off the roof, catching hold of the previously highlighted window Matthew had directed them to.

'Team call?' Britannia scoffed.

'Yeah, y'know. Avenger, assemble. Titans, go! Autobots, roll out. All great teams have to have an awesome catchphrase.'

Opposite them, Gaul unlocked the window and slid it up before slipping inside, shooting back an impatient look that finally prompted the two to jump.

'That's ridiculous,' Britannia huffed as he clambered in after the American. The room they had entered was clearly a liquor cabinet, with shelves upon shelves of amber tinted bottles gleaming in the low light. 'You don't need a cheer to be considered great.'

'Easy for you to say. You're "The Britannia Angel". The Britannia Angel. You know you've made it when people add a "the" in front of your name. You've never even needed a catchphrase.' Columbia argued, and Britannia saw Gaul cross his arms.

'Britannia, lui faire s'il vous plaît arrêter de parler. Mes oreilles saignent.' Britannia, please make him stop talking. My ears are bleeding, the frenchmen hissed.

'Ne soyez pas si mélodramatique.' Don't be so melodramatic, Britannia tutted back, not caring for the Gaul's switch to french so Alfred wouldn't understand, as he moved past Columbia over to Gaul by the door. He cracked it open to peer outside.

A long hallway stretched in either direction, dark and stylishly lit by neon indigo lights, and was most importantly, clear of any of Wang's yakuza. Heavy bass music pulsated through the building to make every beat feel as though it were experiencing a miniature earthquake.

'Il ne devrait pas venir avec nous. Il est vous distraire.' He shouldn't have come with us. He's distracting you, Gaul bit back, and a hot flame lit up in Britannia's gut.

'If I wanted your opinion, Gaul, I'd ask for it. Until then, keep your mouth shut. You'll get your bloody information.' He growled back in English, smirking in satisfaction when the man winced. That handled, Britannia switched focus over to Columbia and received a confirming nod.

They were ready.

The way down to the warehouse was uneventful, peppered only by the occasional guard that Columbia would choke out. When they eventually made it to the basement level—Britannia had had trouble hearing himself think over the deafening thumping music and cheers of the club goers—Gaul had stood guard at the door and Columbia had darted towards the back, searching for the slaves that he had told Britannia about. This left Britannia himself to set the charges against the towering shelves lined with crates.

After he had finished, the Brit grunted when he unsheathed his knife and used it to pry open one of the many blue Spade marked crates. The wooden lid popped off, and Britannia frowned when he saw the contents inside.

Instead of the fine white powder that he had come to know as 'X', Britannia was met with thousands of tiny glass bottles filled with clear liquid, and labelled in fancy calligraphed text 'Drink Me'. He selected one, and had to swallow back down the bile that jumped up his thorax that came with an resurfacing old memory.

'That's…disturbingly specific.' Allistor said Britannia's thoughts, and Britannia numbly nodded.

'Extremely' He muttered before turning to see Columbia approach with a small crowd of young girls and boys, all strikingly pale and scared with wide eyed. 'Is that everyone then?'

'No. Ellie,' Columbia motioned to the petite redhead to his right, 'says that there are still some hostages on the dance floor. We gotta round everyone up before we get them out.'

'Non. That will take too long, every second we spend increases the risk of our discovery, and I refuse to leave without my information.' Gaul protested walking over, and Columbia turned on him.

'Are you kidding me? Do you even care about the hostages?'

'You seem to be forgetting who is responsible for this entire operation.' Gaul icily rebuked, and both men looked to Britannia to be the deciding vote.

'We still don't know what information Gaul is after.' Allistor whispered, and Britannia silently agreed. There was no other way around this.

'We'll have to split up.'

'Split up?' Columbia uttered, the high tilt at the end made Britannia's gut squirm with guilt.

'There are four objectives here. Rescue Wang's hostages, extract the location of the neuroscientists, retrieve Gaul's location, and destroy the stash of 'X'. Seeing as the charges can be detonated remotely, dividing up the remaining objectives between us makes the most sense.' He laid out methodically.

'What do you have in mind, mon cher?' Gaul asked, and Britannia replaced the bottle of 'X' before he rested both hands on his hips.

'I'll approach Wang directly and draw his forces' attention on me. That will give the two of you some wiggle room to rescue the hostages and get into Wang's office.'

'No. No way, it's insane to try to take on all Wang's men on yourself.' Columbia objected.

Britannia waved away his disapproval. 'I have the Valkyrie suit. I could not be in better shape for such a challenge,' He smiled before he looked at Gaul. 'I'm going to want pictures of that information.'

Gaul shook his head. 'I am afraid that was not an element of our agreement, mon dour ange. If you wish to know my secrets, you'll have to exchange it for something in return, a kiss, say?' The frenchman winked.

Britannia groaned and decided to drop the issue with a quick shake of his head at Columbia who looked ready to strangle Gaul. 'Is everyone clear on the plan?' He asked, and was met with two nods.

Hidden behind a blue column, Britannia breathed in a deep breath as he watched Columbia take off with Ellie for the lounge where the other hostages were; Gaul in the other direction for the upper floors. Around him, the crowd danced, and jumped, and stomped, the thudding club mix gasoline; the bitter burn of alcohol, drunk, messy kisses, loud laughter, sweat, and the tang of smoke all swirled together to suffocate Arthur's senses.

'Cymru, cut the music in five.' Britannia said, and pushed out of his hiding place to stride for the baloney ledge that had a view of both light up disco floor below and third floor. He ignored the complaints of the dancers as he pushed past and jumped up onto the half-wall. Right on time, Dylan cut the club's music, and before the roar of disappointment could be released, Britannia unsheathed and raised his gun to pop three shots into the ceiling.

'EVERYBODY OUT, NOW!' He bellowed at the top of his lungs, noting how Dylan had linked his mask's mic to the speakers to amplify his voice to an almost a deafening effect. 'WANG, FACE ME!'

As the club exploded in screams, erupting into a frantic, chaotic stampede for the exit, Britannia looked up to see Wang approach the baloney on the third floor, narrow his eyes as he searched for the intruder, and finally, smile when he saw who it was. The mob boss, in a midnight blue prim suit, with his hair slicked back into a low dark ponytail, extended a hand to have a microphone be placed in it.

'Britannia, welcome to Spades. Would you care to join me up in the VIP lounge?' Wang amplified voice's reverberated through the space, and Britannia cocked his head up at him, half listening to Allistor as he whispered that Columbia had one hostage left to evacuate.

'How kind of you.' He snarked back, and Wang's smile grew to a wicked grin.

'Excellent. I'll have my men escort you.' He said before handing the mic back, and walked away to disappear from sight. Britannia could practically sense the horde of incoming henchmen, like the roaring rush on an tsunami wave.

'I think I'll find my own way up.' He muttered to no one, and with the familiar warning chill shivering down his spine, stepped off the half wall to plummet to the dance floor, narrowly missing the grab of a creeping yakuza.

Britannia landed hard on his knee, the enchantments in the Valkyrie suit absorbing the impact, straightened up, and was immediately forced to bend back to avoid a flying kick. He back-peddled to recover from the assault as more and more men steadily rushed onto the floor.

Within a matter of seconds, a loose ring had formed around Britannia. Hands lunged for him, and with his magic hot and pumping through his veins, Britannia's form vibrated and exploded into a flock of brilliant blue butterflies. Untouchable, they swarmed forward a short distance away before reassembling into their previous humanoid state; the magical transformation dash all occurring within the span of a second.

Britannia dashed again, pressing the advantage of having his opponents stunned by his magical display, and thrust out his hand to send of a telepathic push. The men within range were blown off their feet back into the ones behind them, sending them clattering to the floor like bowling pins. But Britannia didn't have time to celebrate.

He may have had everyone he faced outmatched, but the net was closing in fast, and as quickly and surely as grains of sand drained in an egg timer, Britannia was losing ground to defend himself with.

It wasn't long before Britannia, sweating, panting, came out of a butterfly dash to be clipped by a lucky right hook. The punch sent him stumbling, breaking his agile combat flow, and Britannia cried out when another punch crunched into his ribs. He lashed out with a wild kick, and had a flash of satisfaction when it collided the puncher's head, only to have it vanish when a beefy arm snaked around his neck and squeezed.

'Grab him!' A yakuza shouted, and Britannia thrashed as his limbs were immobilised, man after man clamping onto them so that he couldn't move them an inch. The crowd of yakuza split before him, and Britannia's writhing turned hysterical when he saw that they were parting to make way for a lean asian man bearing a black katana blade.

'Hold him still!' The man cried, unsheathing the great blade, it's keen edge glinting, and Britannia fought to control his breathing, regain some composure. Except he couldn't. His lungs were screaming for air, he was too distracted, with large black spots starting to overtake his vision, too disoriented to dash away, even call upon any of his magic.

Britannia screwed his eyes shut, bracing for the impending agony of being run through, (and he knew it well, with the last time having him nearly losing his liver) when there was a rush of air, and a loud thud! in front of him.

Blinking through the tears, Britannia could of cried out in relief when he saw the back of Columbia's navy suit, the American having caught the katana's edge with his fingertips and effortlessly holding back it's swing with his herculean strength.

'Now. That ain't no way to treat a fella.' He drawled in an exaggerated southern accent, before he shattered the blade with a flex of his fingers, and roundhouse kicked the samurai in the chest to send him flying.

Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, Britannia jackknifed and smashed his head back against his immediate restrainer, forcing him to release his chokehold with a howl, and butterfly dashed out of the other yakuza's grip. He reappeared against Columbia's back, and with a wide sweep of his hand, telepathically shoved the wave of men facing him onto their backs.

Finally with a chance to breathe, Britannia bent over spluttering and gasping, hungrily sucking in deep gulps of air before he rubbed at his sore throat and glared around to Columbia.

'Took you—bloody long enough.' He rasped again between fits of coughing.

'Sorry, I should of gotten here nearer. Although, the hero has gotta make his dramatic entrance, don't he?' Columbia winked, clearly seeing that Britannia was not seriously harmed enough to deem jokes inappropriate.

'Honestly.' Britannia huffed when there was the crackle of his comms opening.

'Britannia, Wang is moving up to his office. You have to move.' Allistor directed, and Britannia gave a grunt of acknowledgement before he looked up to the third floor's baloney where he had seen Wang last, a plan already shaping in his mind.

'Columbia?'

'Yeah. I got it, Wang's moving to his office. Heh—need me to carry you this time princess?' Columbia quipped back. Britannia rolled his eyes and playfully nudged him in the back with his elbow.

'Just follow my lead, that is, if you can.' Britannia teased back and leapt high to begin running along the heads and shoulders of the yakuza crowd toward the baloney; the unlucky men beneath his feet crying out as he pushed off them like stepping stones. As he got close, Britannia coiled his muscles like a spring and launched himself off the tallest yakuza like a springboard, snapping out a hand to catch onto the baloney's ledge.

As Britannia heaved himself up, the ledge shook as Columbia landed beside him in his favoured 'superhero landing' pose, grinning like an idiot when he straightened up and held out a hand to assist Britannia up.

'Must you keep showing off like that?' The Brit grumbled as he accepted the hand and allowed the American to pull him up before breaking into a stride for a door-lined hallway tucked away at the back of the abandoned lounge; the vigilantes' strides broke into a run when the lounge's staircase that would take them up to Wang's office on the top floor came into view at the end of corridor.

Columbia raised an eyebrow. 'How else am I supposed to compete when you go "Extra Ninja"?'

'I don't go—' Britannia cut himself off when a unsuspecting yakuza stepped out from one of the doors, zipping up his pants. Without missing a beat, Britannia slipped down to tackle him baseball style, sliding low to deliver a sweeping kick and knock the man's feet out from under him. The man's cry warped into a whelp when Columbia's punch met his face mid-air, rocketing him tumbling ahead. Maintaining his momentum, Britannia kicked off the floor and dived over the man's twitching form, tucking and rolling before he rightened back into a sprint.

'Like I said, "Extra Ninja".' Columbia smirked at him as they took the stairs two at a time. Britannia opened his mouth to retort, only to come up speechless when they reached the top of the stairs.

Wang's office opened to be not the typical kind you would expect to find, but rather—Wang's office looked as though it were designed by an overly eccentric child; mismatched colourful furniture and a light feature that resembled a half-melted disco ball. Extending from the top of the stairs was a stretch of floorspace, like that of a ballroom, before a raised platform jutted out, among which Wang and the jade man (the wrist Britannia had handcuffed and broken in a cast) stood. However, most importantly, and most strikingly, planted guard in front of the platform, with tactical gladiator with their sword unsheathed, was the White Queen herself.

Ice trickled down Britannia's back, and despite knowing full well that Alfred's Lucid immunity was a better than any weapon he could possess, that Alfred could literally shatter metal and concrete with his hands and leap over buildings, Britannia reactively pulled Columbia behind him as he simultaneously unsheathed his black latin machete off his back.

'Oh shite.' Seamus vocalised all their thoughts as Britannia drew his pistol in his other hand, forcing himself to take deep, steadying breaths as he glanced between Wang and the White Queen.

'Britannia, I'll take the White Queen. You get Wang.' Columbia lowly muttered in his ear, whole body rigid with tenseness, and Britannia shook his head.

'I would agree, except that I am the one she's after. She's not going to get her eyes off me. No, I'll fight the White Queen, you handle Wang.' He argued and thumbed back the safety off his pistol.

'Here's a bright idea. Why don't you both fight her?' Matthew bit over the comms with sarcasm.

'Yeah, and try not to get your arses beat this time.' Dylan snorted.

'Lads, keep an eye on Wang. That snake might try to sneak away in the fray.' Allistor warned, and Britannia gave a curt nod before he tensed to spring.

Columbia leant his head in as he to sank into stance. 'Okay. Britannia, how'd you wanna play this?'

'Let me lead and wait for your opening. Do not hold back. If you can get even one solid hit on her, it could be enough to down her.'

'You got it,' Columbia returned as mirrored Britannia's tension. 'Ready?'

'Ready.' Britannia confirmed, and sprang.

How could Alfred describe his and Britannia's fight with the White Queen. Well— if he could even say that. The way Arthur and the White Queen fought it…

People didn't move that fast—they couldn't. Arthur and the White Queen were just black and white blurs to Alfred, sometimes moving so fast against each other that they merged to become grey; the monochrome whirlwind spastically broken up by the amber sparks when their blades clashed, and the brilliant bursts of blue when Arthur exploded into a swarm of butterflies to dash away.

But even though Alfred was unable to track their battle—let alone spot an opening like Arthur had expected him to—he knew that Arthur was being pushed back. He didn't have the strength to push back, crying out when the White Queen bore down on him with their blades locked.

'Watch your feet! Watch your feet!'

'Attack! Be aggressive! Get off the defensive!' His brothers unhelpfully shouted in his ear, making Arthur bear his teeth as he did everything he could to avoid getting hit.

'What do you think I've been trying to do?!' He hissed back, the distraction proving to be long enough to allow the White Queen to knock his blade away and land a hard kick against his already throbbing ribs.

Britannia staggered back, wanting to curl in on himself with his side on fire. Alfred's warning cry came just in time for him to Bleed, and igniting his magic, and instinctively triggered a spell he had dubbed 'God's Right Hand'.

His hand blazed a fiery gold, incinerating it's glove, and as the White Queen swung, Britannia borrowed a page from Columbia's book and caught the blade before it could slash him.

'Columbia, now!' He cried, gritting his teeth as he struggled to push back against the White Queen's strength. He didn't have the power to sustain the grip like Columbia could.

The stripped and starred hero saw his chance and rushed forward to running-punch the White Queen hard, wincing when he heard something snap, and the White Queen smacked against the wall like a rag doll.

Britannia frowned at Columbia as he shook off the lingering pins and needles in his fist as his magic dissipated back into his blood.

'You pulled your punch,' He said, almost accusatively, and ignored the hurt look on Columbia's face in favour for the White Queen as she shakily climbed back to her feet. 'You shouldn't of pulled your punch.'

'Jesus Britannia, I don't wanna kill her.' Columbia frowned.

'She won't mirror your mercy.' Arthur warned back, wishing for once that Alfred's morale compass wasn't so righteous. If he had hit her harder, she would of gone down, and stayed down, leaving the path to Wang open.

'Britannia—'

But Columbia's words were cut short when an invisible fishhook yanked Britannia's chest forward and over to the waiting White Queen. She grabbed him, and in a flash; wrapped him into a chokehold, drew her hip pistol, hammered back the safety, and aimed between Columbia's eyes.

Arthur froze, not daring to breath.

No.

He jerked his elbow up, and the White Queen's bullet went wide, the bang blasting Britannia's eardrum to ring with white noise. Moving like a crazed animal, Britannia whipped out the knife strapped to his lower back, and brought it down into the woman's thigh.

The White Queen cried out, and as Britannia felt her hold on him release, he reached back and ripped away her mask.

Time.

Time stood still as green eyes stared back at dark gold, and the rest of the world fell away.

In that moment, as Arthur's trembling fingers lifted off his own mask, letting it drop to the floor, he was not the Britannia Angel. Not a hero, a friend, a brother, nor a lover.

In that moment, Arthur was just a boy. A scared, lonely boy standing in front of his—

'Mother.' Arthur rasped, barely a whisper, around the inflated lump in his throat that choked him. Wet tears pricked the corners of his eyes as a icy, numbing chill spread throughout his body to paralyse him.

'Surprise! Now it's this just touching,' A voice, that sickeningly familiar voice sang out from far away, and from the shadows, he stepped out as a mirage. ''Ello poppet~'

No.

No. No.

No, no no no no no no no.

No.

'You would not believe how relived I am to get this off my chest. Wow. Carrying this little golden nugget with me all these years has been a chore, I'll tell you. I admit, I came close to cracking a few times, especially last night. Mmm, oh yes. Last night was—how to put it— incredibly strenuous. But, ah~ Arthur, seeing your smile now, makes it all worth the wait.'

Arthur's knees gave out from under him. Unrestrained tears freely fell down his face. His hands clamped over his mouth.

He was going to be sick.

'It's all been building. It's all been building, and I'll tell you, I have plans. I have big, with a capital 'B' big, plans.'

'You are not going to fucking take him.' Someone—Alfred, growled, and there was a high musical laugh.

'Oh, I'm not going to take him. Because Arthur is going to come with me willingly. Isn't that right, love?'

All eyes must have been on him, but Arthur couldn't feel them. He couldn't feel anything.

'No!'

'Yes, little Alfie. Yes he is. Because right now, more than anything, Arthur wants answers. Answers only I can give him.'

'You sick, fucking—'

'Would you like that that, love? Like to know all my dirty little secrets? My dastardly deeds? Why Mommy's over there, and not dead at the bottom of the ocean?'

Arthur's brain vaguely registers that he's shaking, chest violently, yet silently convulsing.

A sigh. 'Now, love, I can appreciate that this is a lot to take in. But sweetie, I really would like to wrap this up so—'

There was a snap of fingers, then two explosions as the White Queen—no, Mother—put two bullets through Alfred's kneecaps.

'ALFRED!,' Arthur shrieked, snapping out his disassociation as the American crumpled to the floor with a scream. 'No, no, no, no, no!' He pleaded, dropping to his knees beside him, hands scrambling to come away bloody.

'Oh~ That looked like it hurt,' Hatter giggled, and raised his hand. 'Let's do that again.'

'NO! Please! Stop!,' Arthur's voice broke on the last word, bowing his head defeated. It was too much. It was all too much. 'I'll go with you, please, just—stop.'

'Arthur. No—Arck!' Alfred gritted through his clenched teeth, his knuckles white and his hair plastered to his forehead drenched in sweat; blue eyes, blue, beautiful blue eyes, pinpricks with desperation.

'You—Urgh! You can't—Not again. Not again.'

'If I don't—'

'No! I don't care, no!'

Arthur wept, his vision blurring as the droplets fell off his chin and dropped onto Alfred's poor beaten and battered face. 'I can't heal you, you idiot. I can't—'

'Together, or not at all! That's what you said! That's what we do!' Alfred begged, and Arthur's lip trembled as he slowly shook his head.

'Not this time, love.'

It was Alfred's time to cry now, ugly, blabbing, hagged sobs as Arthur cradled him, leaning down to press their foreheads together. He took Alfred's hand into his own and place it over his heart.

'This is yours, now and always.'

'Arthur, p-please—please, no—'

'And don't you dare blame yourself over this, because I know you will. This is my fault. And ever given the choice, I would choose your happiness, your life, over mine, each and every single time.'

'Arthur! No, please, you can't do this! You can't do this Arthur! PLEASE.'

'You are a good man, Alfred F. Jones. And even if it wasn't for very long, being by your side made me the happiest man in the world,' Arthur breathed as he gripped Alfred's hand, feeling how his body uncontrollably shook, and pressed a tender, chaste kiss to his forehead, lingering in bitter-sweet a second longer to breathe him in, engrave the scent into his memory. 'I can't lose you. Not you. So please, please, just this once, stop being the hero. Don't get up. Don't look for me, I won't be there…

I love you. So fucking much…and I am so, so sorry.'

With that, Arthur stood up, each step he took away from Alfred, and towards Hatter, an eternity. Alfred's whimpering pleads to come back, to step away from Hatter, to not to go—god please, each a stab in Arthur's heart.

If Alfred was the sword in his heart, Hatter's satisfied, cheshire-cat grin was the hooked dagger in his gut as he stopped in front of him.

'Something to say to me, love?' Hatter cooed with a cock of his head, blinking his eyelashes with false innocence, and Arthur smothered the surviving ambers of his dignity.

'Take me.' He whispered.

'Take me, what?' Hatter giggled, and a fresh wave of tears broke free down Arthur's face.

'Take me, please.' Arthur choked, and felt the last of the warmth inside him die out when Hatter smiled softly and cupped his face with both hands, electric blue eyes boring into watery green. His gaze drinking—no, drowning—Arthur as a thumb came up to wipe along the tear tracks running down his cheeks.

But Arthur couldn't feel it. The numbing ice inside him was back, harder, and colder than before; the personification of a deadman walking.

'Of course, Arthur~'

Ha- ha, ha...help.

Not sure when I'll be able to update again, though the best answer is after the 15th of December.

Thank you for reading and I hope you 'enjoyed' this chapter. If you are, please take the time to consider leaving a review leaving me your thoughts, opinions and questions. Once again, thank you for reading, and as always.

Until next time folks!