Today was Saturday. It was nine bloody o' clock in the morning, and while that may not be all that early, the point was that it was Saturday. The day, in which Arthur was not supposed to have to wake up until at least noon, and from there, not really get moving until two. Then find some lucky girl or guy, take them to some night club, make out, go back to whoever dorm was closest, fuck, and take the walk of shame in the morning while nursing a hangover.

The problem is that for some unknown reason, the superpowers had decided that it would be best to start the planning committee meeting at nine in the morning, most likely because Alfred left at eight to get some burgers and pick up some comic books, and would probably be back around noon. That gives them just enough time to start planning the back to school party, which was expected to be done by next Friday.

Yao had decided to sleep in today. He was getting old and when you get old, you crave more and more sleep. Forget what early bird specials say, no real, self respecting old person would be up before ten unless it was necessary. True, he was eighteen, but he was the oldest in their school if that counted for anything.

Ivan on the other hand had gotten up at six. He had to drive down into the city to do a transaction with some customers at eight, and with traffic, it would be about an hour and a half away. This was one of the most important deals that he had in a while now. Lately they have all been small tradeoffs here and there for information and he only had to break out the old pipe and revolver twice in the past seven months. But in this one, he was breaking out both mentioned above, and adding a knife. The only group that could come even close to the Russian mob was the Italians, and that was who he was visiting today. Actually a relative of the Vargas twins, a man named Romulus.

So Arthur dragged himself out of his bed, a monstrous migraine pounding at his temple as he pushed the blankets off him and began his morning routine. As he was walking around, he found a note on the fridge that said, "Mon cher, Gilbert, Antonio and I are going to set up the meeting spot in the conference room on the first level. There are some croissants in the fridge if you don't want to try and burn the cereal again. You know what time to be down."

Scowling at the cream colored paper in his hand, he crumpled it up taking slight delight in the crinkling and ripping sounds, and tossed it into the waste basket next to the fake marble counter. With a reluctant hand, he opened up the fridge and grabbed one of the croissants. It was only because he needed to get out the door and they were premade and all. Not because they might actually taste good; that would be ridiculous.

He snacked on the plate as he got ready for the meeting, throwing on some usual garb and meticulously crafting his perfectly messy hairstyle that he has every day. His hair is actually naturally very lifeless. He never has any form of bed head and it was so wiry that if you tied it in a knot it would probably undo itself. It was also a lot longer when not puffed up the way he does it, hanging over his eyes and ears. But when he is done, it seems just like he rolled out of bed, did not bother to do anything at all, and was just naturally this roguishly hansom.

He shoved on his clothes, and yawning as he did, headed down to the conference room on the first floor, down the hall from the cafeteria and seven doors down from his math room. It was behind a normal green door, nothing out of the ordinary. Most likely wooden, cheaply produced, and able to be kicked down by a seven year old, but Arthur still felt a sense of dread about opening it. Mostly because he could swear he heard screaming and kicking inside.

Mustering up his courage, he pushed open the door to the meeting room, and swiftly closed it again. Well, there goes any hope of sanity he was holding on to. W-w-why. Why is he being forced to do this, all due to the fact that the guy who he wants to take over has some sort of otherworldly power and has friends that seem to be spawned strait from the mafia (then again, who knows, maybe they are.)

Taking a deep breath and fighting off the rising headache, he opened the door with heavy caution and found that his eyes had not deceived him when he did the first time; no matter how much he wished that it had.

At the root of the problem, as always, was the bad touch trio. How they became armed with cans of silly string he does not want to even begin to ponder, but they were, and that meant all hell had broken loose.

Gilbert was standing on the table, laughing like a cartoon villain and spraying everything in sight, seemingly winning the fight when taken from a second look. Francis used Feliciano as a human shield, who in turn was laughing and babbling about a mixture of pasta, gelato and puppies, not even noticing he was covered head to toe in the sticky goo. Antonio was fighting rather fiercely, sneaking up behind Francis at one point and getting mounds stuck in his hair, which then resulted in a lament of French cursing due to the fact that the style had taken over an hour to prepare.

The trembling trio was doing just as their name implied, trembling under the table trying to avoid being hit by the various projectiles being thrown and sprayed around. Their hands were on their ears, trying to block out the deafening laughs and screeches that were pounding in Arthur's ears as well. The teen sent here to be neutral was doing just that, sitting down in a spinning chair. He must have had some sort of magical force field or something due to his zero stance position in the conflict, since through some miracle nothing seemed to be able to come within his little bubble in the corner of the room.

The Japanese student awkwardly suggested that everyone stopped and actually began to work since this all had to be done by Friday. He gave extremely good advice, but sadly never seemed to say it loud enough to get people to follow it. Much like the German who was twitching his eye and entire body, as a single vein got larger and more apparent on his forehead. He was screaming as loud as he could, but it made no difference, since as soon as he did, everyone else did as raised their voices as well. So all that did was bring up the total volume of the room.

Arthur just stood there motionless, not quite sure how to handle the current situation. Should he leave? Yeah, that seemed like the most valid option. He was about to close the door, when something happened that may have shaken the very core of space time. The world would have warped around it and melted if it were not for the fact this wasn't some overblown fantasy novel. The most unlikely of things happened that set off a chain reaction that could only be described as a volcano.

Silly string hit Lovino's jacket.

Now, that does not sound all that terrifying in and of itself. So what? It is a jacket, what is the big deal? But the thing is, Romano did not do 'just jackets'. That was for low lives, simpletons and people who could not get their shit together. He only wore the best of the best. Armani, Gucci, Chanel, Blurberry, Valentino, and things of that nature. This jacket happened to be the second, and Lovino did not take kindly to his limited edition Gucci jacket being ruined by some silly string.

That was when everyone learned that just because Lovino was a complete and utter coward, did not mean that he could not throw knives like a circus performer. Even without the use of a blade right at the moment, he managed to make use of an uncapped pen on the desk where he was sitting. Flicking his hand back, with minimal effort he threw the pen, embedding in the wall and landing right in between Francis's legs, less that a centimeter from the 'Eifel tower'.

Everyone in the room effectively shut up instantly as they looked from Francis's shocked and terrified face, to Lovino's stoic and flat one. Arthur realized then that if anyone he knew was in the mafia, it actually would probably be the southern Italian.

"Now," Lovino said smoothly, completely devoid of emotion, like the calm before the storm. "Which one of you fucking shits decided that my limited edition Gucci jacket would benefit from being sprayed by fucking silly string!" His voice got louder and angrier as he talked and by the end he was shouting.

Everyone dropped their cans, and pointed to the person next to them. Gilbert to Francis, Francis to Antonio and Antonio, actually Antonio didn't point to anyone, he instead just looked back and forth across his friends with something that Arthur had never seen before, but when Gilbert and Francis caught wind of, quickly put down their fingers, tensed their muscles in slight fear and Gilbert hopped off the table.

"Uh s-sorry dude. That was totally not awesome of Francis to do, am I right?" the Prussian nervously laughed as Antonio's green eyes turned sharp and calculating on them. This was not good.

"Oh? So you are sorry, are you?" Antonio said in a sickly sweet voice as Francis and Gilbert backed away slowly; knowing that the only way for this to pass was to be calm and help Antonio out of this crazy place he goes sometimes. It isn't only Antonio's 'friend' (lifelong crush) that he get's this obsessive and creepy over when hurt, it is whenever someone he cares about has anything bad happen to them whatsoever. One time when some students from the college down the road knocked over Gilbert's bike on purpose, making him break an ankle; Antonio personally hunted each of them down and…well…the superpowers aren't the only ones who can cause hospital visits. They can just get away with it a lot easier.

No one knows why Antonio started getting this overprotective, it happened sometime around the third year they were at this school. Around that time Yao also started teasing Antonio a bit more, and Antonio got much more aggressive against the Chinese teen. He used to despise Ivan with a burning passion, but now a day's no one can bring up the superpowers without the Spaniard declaring his hate for the other.

"Look, ami . I am really, really sorry about Lovino's jacket. It was a complete accident and, look, he's not hurt right," Francis assured the other. He didn't hold this against his friend, since he has a nagging suspicion of what made him like this and it would take someone without a heart to hold it against him.

Antonio turned to the boy he had been protecting since he was seven (although never had Lovino asked for it. They had just always been in the same classes and Antonio had taken a liking to him, and vowed to protect him; cheesy as that was.) and looked for a sign to stop.

Since no matter what he says, Lovino did not actually want either of them killed, he nodded and gave a hand gesture to say he was fine, and Antonio seemingly snapped out of a trance. He looked to his weakly smiling friends and dropped his own sickly one and, for the first time, Arthur saw the man without a grin.

"Ha, sorry amigos. You know how I get sometimes."

"Don't worry about it," Gilbert laughed, swinging his arm around his buddy's shoulders. "We all have outr shit, except me, since I'm awesome like that."

"Well," Francis laughed. "There is you're ob-"

Gilbert shoved his hand in front of the Frenchman's mouth and gave a glare daring him to say what he was going to say. Sensing that he probably should not add any more baking soda to the vinegar cup, he decided to shut up; and the trio of friends walked over to the silly string covered meeting desk in the center, kicked up their feet, and talked as if nothing happened. Leaving Arthur still standing in the doorway, the familiar question on his mind as he tentatively took a step in.

What the bloody hell was wrong with this school?

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AN- Hey everyone, so I am back J I hope you like the new chapter. I have been hinting that something is not really right underneath the serface of Antonio, and well for a few more chapters before I bring up what made him snap. Same for Lovino.

But anyways, I'm back J well, technically not until the first of December, but I decided to do a quick update to all my story's, as well as add a new one that I made for fun on my b-day. (104 Days Of Summer Vacation.)

So, if you were wondering what to expect. The next chapter is going to be really light and funny and sweet, to prepare for the complete and utter tear fest that is most likely coming after that, or in the one after the one after. For some reason I really enjoy torturing characters I love and relate to, and those consist of Prussia, America, Russia, Romano and Spain, in no particular order (although I am near identical to Prussia both in my life situation and personality.) And therefore you can expect for all of them to be emotionally tortured, crippled, and driven to the brink of insanity and probably cross it more than once.

You may have also noticed that on the character main list, France fell of and Prussia was added. Just trust me, it may not seem that way yet but he is going to be very important in this. And as I said, he is the most like me, therefore I will torture him to death (take that as literally as you want.)

One last thing, I have a new sort of fic that I am working on, and I am super excited about. This one is sort of scifi steam punk and my first time using Prussia as the main character. On my Profile page I mention I used to want to be a 'Cheshire'. Well, that will be explained.

Okay enough with the ramble. Thanks for your time J

-ithefantasticfanatic.