Kawaii: Hello, hello! Welcome to the third chapter! It's pretty insane, eh? Well, maybe not to you, but to me, yes. I personally feel pretty okay about this chapter. Ahah. Also, have you read Pineapple Desu's story Coffee Shop? If you haven't, read it. Now. And while you're at it, read my story too. It's not as insane as you think. /shamelessly advertising. Thank you, and please tell us what you think about this chapter by leaving a review, down there... down thereeeee...
Pineapple: SPEAKING OF SHAMELESS ADVERTISING... Hey, guys! Mind if I ask you something? Ruby and I want an England (well, mostly me). The requirements are on our profile page if you're interested. We get into character a lot, you see, and we fight over Artie a lot. If we could get an England, that would be great! You don't necessarily have to be an RPer; you just need to be able to get in character. Uh. Yeah. Enjoy this chapter!
There was something wrong.
Well, of course there was something wrong. There were drugs, women and men of different colors, some with angel wings, others having odd tails. The sky was pitch black, and yet the glowing red lanterns made the place eerily crimson. Moans and groans were loud, and he could even HEAR the vibrators.
But no. It wasn't that sort of wrong.
It was how he couldn't really sense Gilbert and Matthew anymore.
Okay, he couldn't exactly pinpoint their exact location. But he could see their movements of their... let's just say souls. Arthur couldn't see things when it was concealed. And there wasn't a reason for Matthew and Gilbert to conceal themselves. His hand casually reached to his ear, and he pressed the transceiver that was embedded into his ear.
"Alfred foshizzles Jones, at your service!" Alfred's bright and happy voice was louder than usual, as though he was trying to yell over the noise.
"Alfred? It's Arthur." Arthur said quietly.
"WHAT?" Alfred yelled even louder. Arthur winced.
"IT'S ARTHUR, YOU DIPSHIT!" Arthur yelled.
"WOAH! No need to be so PMS-y and loud, Artie." Alfred chuckled. Arthur rubbed his temples in irritation, trying to keep his temper in check.
"I can't feel Matthew's and Gilbert's... souls." Arthur said. Alfred stopped talking for a while.
"...How the fuck do you FEEL-"
"LOOK!" Arthur practically screamed. A couple of prostitutes swiveled their heads to him, but quickly returned back to their duties. "THEY MIGHT'VE BEEN RAPED AND DEAD ABOUT A MILLION TIMES ALREADY!" There was another considerably longer silence.
"How do they die more than-"
"You know what? Forget it." Arthur snarled. "If you don't care about your brother's wellbeing, fine. If you don't care about your teammate's sanity, fine. I'll deal with it-"
"Sorry, Arthur." Alfred sounded much more serious now. "So what do you think we should do?"
"We should try to contact them. You get albino, I'll get purple eyes. No complaining." Arthur could even FEEL Alfred's next remark.
"Alright. Break!" He declared, and hung up. Arthur quickly pressed on the transceiver again, praying to every single God he knew, (even the God of Second Chances) that they were alright. He was met with a long dial tone.
Obviously, no one was on his side this time.
"Arthur, no answer." Alfred's voice broke his train of thought. Arthur nodded, before realizing that Alfred couldn't see.
"Same here. I think we should check up on them." Arthur thought for a second. "Gilbert's soul seemed to be concealed more. I think he might have two or more incubus around. I'll go to him. You go check up on Matthew."
"Alright."
Arthur gritted his teeth, and ran to the opposite direction, ignoring the looks of contempt and surprise.
He also ignored the look of hunger and lust, from a pair of glowing, crimson eyes.
He tried to concentrate on what he couldn't sense. Okay, so Gilbert was obviously still with strippers and shit, but where? His legs actually began to hurt as he sprinted into the South portion of the district, his breath coming in shallow bursts. This would complicate things. He looked around wildly, before going into the first bar he saw. He went right up the bartender and asked in a wheeze, "Have you seen a guy around here, about my age, with white hair and red eyes and a cocky attitude?" What he said was nearly unintelligible, but the woman seemed to understand. When she nodded, he gasped for breath. "Did you see where he went?"
"That way," she said, pointing to her left. "He went with a stripper."
He nodded as a thank you and hurried over there. It ended up being a door, so he shoved it open, and what should he see but a ho standing over a bleeding Gilbert? She turned at the sound of the door opening. "Ári," Arthur said clearly, the word making the woman spasm, her mouth opening in a snarl, "burt með þér. Flýja frá þessum stað. Leita leið aftur til helví―"
Suddenly, a pair of slender, but strong arms, hooked onto his his, pulling him back. She leaned down, her long, dark auburn hair swishing as she went, covering her face. She bit down hard, on his left hand, causing him to yelp.
"Fuck. You didn't drop it, honey bunch." Her southern drawl came out less obvious now, and she licked her lips, moaning in pleasure. He shivered in disgust.
"My, you're quite the dashing young man." She ran her fingers over his chest, her long nails scratching softly. She leaned down, and settled her neck on the crook of his neck. "You smell nice, lad. Cologne?"
"Sweat. And the scent of whores." He snarled at her. She didn't seem at all affected.
"Hmm. Well, whores DO tend to smell nice, anyway. Coral?" She called over to the blond, who was currently circling Gilbert. Coral turned around, her brilliant midnight eyes boring down onto Arthur's torso.
"Yes, Passion?" She said sweetly.
"What do you think of me living in him?" She said, her hands drooping down onto his belt. Coral's eyes raked all over. Arthur felt as though he was getting stripped.
"Well, he's gotta be quite the nice fuck, hon." She crouched down, and brushed Gilbert's bangs away from his eyes. "I was going to have some fun with this guy, but in 2 seconds he whirled around and pointed his guns at me. He was also reaching towards his ear," at this point, she traced her finger on his jawline, all the way to his ear, and tapped at it, "but I beat him to it." She pulled out the bloodied transceiver from his ear, and crushed it between her thumb and index finger. "Shame. What a nice boy he was, too... so gentle at first..." She wrapped her arms around him, and licked his earlobe. "He has nice blood..."
Arthur slammed his foot down onto Passion's hooker boots. She yelped, loosening her grip slightly, but that was all he needed. He whirled around, and placed his hand in front of her. "Ári! Leita leið aftur til helvítis! Fara í brott!"
She gasped, her eyes bulging out, her mouth open, screaming. It was bloodcurdling, echoing loudly in the small space. She was leaning back, her arm bent at a funny angle, and her hair wild and shooting out, turning black. Her eyes were crying out blood, staining her porcelain skin, which was starting to rot away, like cigarette ash. Green arcs surrounded her body, in ancient letters, and in a blinding flash of light, she disappeared.
"YOU BITCH!" Coral screamed, and lunged at him. He quickly dodged it, making her fist drive into the wall and break it down. It left a gaping hole, the dust flying everywhere, tinting her skin and surrounding her in a hazy mist. Her hair turned from light blond into dark red, looking as though it was lit like fire, dancing wildly and brimming with energy. Her mouth widened, and rows of sharp, white teeth were apparent. She ripped off her chunky cuff, and crushed it under her hooker boots. On her arm, it had a single symbol.
A black trident.
"You killed my sister." Even her sweet voice changed. Now it was deep and gravelly, hissing and sounding as though she shot in too much cocaine. "You will pay for that." She pushed her bangs back, and her eyes turned completely red.
Like the flames of hell.
"Have you seen a guy like me?" Alfred said, panting. He pointed at himself. "Except he's more feminine looking and has wavy blonde hair." He accentuated it by making his hands make a wavy sign. The prostitute was about 16, her dark brown hair chopped to a bob, and she was wearing a see-through white dress shirt, her neck covered in hickeys.
"I'm sorry, I have not." She shook her head, but her brown eyes sparkled. "But, please, could you stay? There hasn't been a guy near my age in ages." She sighed, and wobbled unsteadily on her tired legs.
"Ahaha... I'm not into quick fucks, but here." He handed her 5 gold coins. Her eyes widened.
"This... this is so much! I cannot possibly-" He raised a hand to silence her. She immediately quieted down.
"Keep it. In fact, you should probably get out of here. Although 5 gold coins can only buy you a train ticket." He chuckled. She bowed happily and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips.
"Thank you! I wouldn't have minded earning that money from you." She called out, waltzing away. He quickly wiped the kiss away. There was time to enjoy that later. Well, actually, he was hoping for a certain cranky British man, but...
Anyway. Work first.
He wondered where the hell Matthew was. It certainly wouldn't be easy to find him with so many prostitutes. He could be fucking a random person right now, but he could also be getting killed and possessed by an incubus. He shuddered, hoping that his sweet maple-syrup eating brother of his wouldn't become some sex crazed stranger.
The worst part is that it was very likely that had happened.
His resolve hardened. There was no way in hell he would let his sibling become possessed by a dirty incubus! The only problem he had was that he couldn't exactly find him. It proved to be quite the difficult problem. He had asked around for ages, but had anyone seen him? No. He wasn't the type to get scared, but he was honestly started to fear for Matthew.
Adrenaline rushed through his veins. Okay, they were twins. He had to have some sort of twin telepathy, right? He would have closed his eyes and let his feet lead him if he weren't scared he would bump into prostitutes with each step he took.
Twin telepathy powers, activate.
He closed his eyes, and concentrated on Matthew. That wavy-haired, purple-eyed, pretty much carbon copy of him, who had the same career as him (demon slayer, fuck yeah), had an infatuation with maple syrup, who was born a complete 2.3 seconds later than him, the one who seemed to always pick the red crayon and say that America was gay and Canada was awesome (2 countries that they made up), when they had pretended to be pirates and waved their cardboard swords at the other girls.
"...no!"
Alfred's eyes shot open. He wheeled around, his ears alert, his eyes bright, recognizing that voice anywhere. It sounded strained, laced with terror, but completely human. He yanked off his limit and ran towards the dark alley, lit up by a flickering streetlamp only.
Alfred was graced with a sight he would rather not see. His brother, his shirt ripped open, with the buttons yanked off, had angry red marks on his chest. His hands were handcuffed behind his back, and his glasses were broken and discarded. He was also blindfolded, and had his pants partially down, but thankfully still had his boxers on. Blood was splattered on his hair and clothes, and his mouth was bleeding, the drops dripping down from the side. His limit was still on, which would be why he hadn't just decapitated the guy already. The man on top of his brother bit down harshly, earning a cry of alarm from Matthew. He seemed to lavish the taste and had a fetish with blood, since his platinum blonde hair was streaked with red, his shirt covered with fresh blood, which Alfred wasn't sure if it was from Matthew or some other victim. He was grinding hard against Matthew, but also seemed to yank off bits and pieces of skin here and there- from his neck to his hands, even on his inner thigh.
"Get off from my brother." Alfred's voice was eerily calm, and it sounded like there was a lot of suppressed anger in it. The man turned around, his lips curled in a half smile, his dark eyes bleeding out blood. Alfred almost recoiled from the sight, but kept his ground.
"Oh, I can see the resemblance." He tilted Matthew's chin up, and examined him closely. "But this little guy here is much prettier. Damn, he'd be a lovely house for me."
"House?" Alfred said, his eyes flashing darkly.
"You do know that we incubus like to live in our... ah, nicer victims." He ran his finger over Matthew's stomach. "Oh, he doesn't have flabs. Must work out a lot." He gave a sly grin to Alfred. "But our female counterpart, the succubus, like to go with anyone. They're such sluts." He licked Matthew's neck slowly. "But then again... we are one and the same." Suddenly, a foggy haze wrapped around him, and after it disappeared, his hair reached his chest, soft and wavy. He (or she, which she was now) had at least a C cup, and her waist shrinked. Her dark eyes became larger and seemed as though there were many layers of mascara applied on. Her jeans were now a bit too big for her.
"You disgust me." Alfred snarled.
"And you disgust me, so let's get this over with." She yanked off her dress shirt, and soon, it was replaced with a long, sleeveless trench coat, made out of... possibly leather. It was wrapped with a chained belt, covered with heads of humans. She gave a quick kiss on Matthew's lips.
"I'll be back, darling." She cooed. She unbuttoned the top of her trench coat, revealing a symbol; a black trident. "We pledge allegiance to our one and only god, the god of Death. May we thank thee for letting us out." She murmured.
Alfred ran forward, his chain saw roaring, and he jumped up, ramming his chain saw down, only to have it make a crack on the floor. The succubus laughed evilly, revealing rows of sharp, white teeth. Her dark eyes became so light they almost looked white. She was in the air, and she made a 360 turn, landing on her feet.
"You have to do better than that to beat me." She grinned, her smile disturbing.
Alfred jammed his chain saw down onto the ground, where it teared it up without a single thought, making the cracks much larger. He ran forward, making the chain saw cut through the cement, and slashed at her. She just laughed, jumping and dancing gracefully, as though this was all a game.
"Puh-lease. The Institute of the Otherworldly sure is becoming weak." She gave another laugh. It sounded horrible, all screechy, as though she was a car that stopped at the last second.
"Take that back, bitch!"
Alfred and the succubus turned around, only to meet a bloodied, angry Matthew, his scythe raised, his blindfold gone. He slammed it down, slashing a huge arc in the air. It grazed her stomach and part of her hair. Her eyes hardened.
"How'd you get out?" She asked, seeming only to be curious.
"Skills." Matthew huffed. Alfred's eyes trailed down onto his hands. The cuff was ripped off, but the cloth that had held his hands captive was still on there. There was a huge rip, but that was about it.
He was also not wearing any pants.
"Oh god... I know this isn't the time to say this, but Mattie? You're only wearing like... fish and chips boxers." Alfred said. His eyes widened. "Holy shit, fish and chips! You... you! My own brother!" He gasped theatrically. Matthew gave him a dark glare.
"Is this really the time?" Matthew said, exasperated. "This is humiliating. I'm fighting a succubus in my boxers."
"Not to mention fucking hilarious." Alfred snapped a quick picture on his phone.
"Delete it!" Matthew lunged at Alfred, who was just laughing.
"No!"
"Yes!"
"No!"
"Ye-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" She screeched, catapulting down towards them. They both jumped off in different directions, making her slam right on to the ground. They nodded their heads to each other, and in one, swift motion, they raised their weapons and slashed into her. She screamed, her hair shooting up, before quickly settling down and becoming ash black. They stared at the remains of her.
"Well. One down." Alfred finally said. "And, I would lend you pants bro, but y'know. I'm only wearing one pair." He shrugged. "You look like a prostitute, if that's any help."
"How is that any help?" Matthew said, exasperated. He looked down. His shirt was tattered, his boxers were half-mutilated, he wasn't wearing any shoes, and he could barely see. "I need a new uniform. After I just got a new one, too."
"Uniforms aren't important right now, bro." Alfred patted Matthew on the shoulder. "We need to focus on Arthur and Gilbert. No doubt they're getting pummeled without us, the awesome brothers!" Alfred fist pumped into the air. Matthew did a half-hearted one as well.
"After this is over, I'm taking a bath. And going to bed." He said, sounding tired. "I can't believe I was about to get eaten by a succubus. Incubus. Whatever. You know, I wouldn't mind going back to school, just to see some normal chicks and guys."
"I know right." Alfred rolled his eyes. "But still. You look like a prostitute."
No matter how tired Matthew was, he still had enough strength to give Alfred a black eye.
Gilbert dragged himself to his pistols, thrown off to the side. He was breathing hard, and when he staggered to his feet, he looked as though he had risen up from the dead. She froze, and the laugh she emitted was horrifyingly grating. Without even turning around, she grabbed hold of one of his pistols and threw it, along with him, to the side of the building opposite them. His shoulder hit it with a sickening crack.
Arthur was chanting even as Gilbert slid down to the ground, groaning. "―leita leið aftur til―" His green eyes were bright in the dark, alight with some unnatural glow.
The succubus screeched, her skin seeming to stretch over her body, as though it were too small to contain all of her without strain. She slammed into him, and he fell to the ground, the spell breaking off as the wind was knocked out of him. He struggled to regain it.
Coral drew her fist back and punched him in the face.
He punched her right back with surprising strength, and she was knocked onto her back. He wiped his bleeding nose with his sleeve. "Fara í―"
"No!" The word was ripped out of her, sounding choked, but it caught his attention, and that was all she needed. She was behind him before he knew it, caressing his collarbone. "Goodbye, exorcist," she whispered in his ear intimately, and her hands left his clavicle to wrap around his neck, squeezing.
He couldn't breathe. How could he have been so stupid? He threw his head back, hitting her in her face, but it did no good. Black spots began to appear in his vision, and his lungs ached from the lack of oxygen. He felt light-headed. His mind moved slower, and he couldn't think of the word that would help him. The light in his eyes dimmed. He couldn't believe he was going to die from this...
Coral's grip suddenly loosened and she was thrown to the side. Arthur crumpled to the ground, coughing desperately, the cool air only briefly entering his lungs before being expelled.
Matthew placed his legs on either side of the succubus, glancing at Alfred, who was by her head, before crouching down, the point of his scythe tickling her throat. It probably would have been better if he had pants. "I wish there was time for us to play with you, but as you can see, we've got some friends to save," he said carelessly, his lips curling into a smirk.
Coral lifted her head and slammed it into his. He fell back, cursing loudly, and she turned to face Alfred, who stared at her in astonishment. "You shouldn't play with your food," she scolded, and moved nimbly out of the way of his chainsaw. He casually changed direction and cut into her stomach. It would have been deeper had she not backed out of its path at the last moment. "Now we're having some fun!" Seeing as Alfred had yet to retract his chainsaw, she flipped onto it, and kicked his chest, sending him flying. She fell backward, but flipped back onto her feet before she hit the ground. Her expression seemed maniacal, and her lips stretched in a grin of sadistic (or perhaps masochistic) glee.
Her knees buckled from a force behind her, and she fell, screaming at a pitch that would break glass. Matthew seized his chance and lopped her head off. He stepped on it before it could roll away. "You shouldn't play with yours, either," he drawled to the now dead succubus, whose body was rapidly decaying.
That done, their attention was turned back to their teammates. Alfred abandoned Sally and rushed over to Arthur, who was still coughing, while Matthew ran to Gilbert, who was unconscious. "Breathe, Artie, breathe," Alfred murmured, pushing back the man's bangs as he helped him to sit up. "Come on, come on." He was staring at the bruises on Arthur's neck, somewhat purplish with some blue mixed in.
Matthew didn't know what to do. One of Gilbert's arms was obviously broken, and most likely dislocated. His face was bloodied. With a sinking feeling, Matthew carefully pulled up his shirt, trying not to jostle him. Thankfully, he wasn't very bruised there, and Matthew pulled it back in place. He had a horrible sense of helplessness. He looked back at Alfred and Arthur; Arthur was out of the coughing stage and was wheezing a bit, and Alfred was rubbing his back, his lips moving in words Matthew couldn't hear.
He looked back at Gilbert, biting his lip. If Arthur had been fine, he could have fixed everyone up. Goddammit. He felt the arm he surmised must be dislocated, and, with a grunt, shoved it back in place. Gilbert didn't wake up for it. It was probably better that way. Breaking bones was a bitch, and if Matthew knew human anatomy at all, he had some broken bones.
Arthur regained his breath, and just sat there for a few seconds, his eyes closed, as Alfred continued rubbing circles onto his back. Ordinarily, he would have slapped his hands away, but he was really not in the mood for unnecessary movements. Matthew, noticing, moved to the side to not get in his way. With some effort, Arthur held up his hand and murmured, his voice awfully raspy, "Lækna." Gilbert's arm, previously bent at an odd angle, righted itself, and his skin rippled, moving bones back to their proper place.
His eyes closed, and he gritted his teeth before opening them again, this time looking at Matthew. "Lagast." Matthew bit back a curse as the skin he had lost during his encounter with the hooker incubus/succubus regrew. It didn't hurt, per se, but it tingled in a rather unpleasant way.
"Thanks, Arthur," he said when it was finished. "If only there was a spell that could give me back my pants."
Arthur didn't seem to notice; he was massaging his temples, his eyes closed once more. It had been a miracle he could even talk clearly enough for the spells to work. It hurt to even swallow. He leaned onto Alfred. Had he been weaker, he would have fainted right then. Alfred didn't stiffen in surprise; instead, he continued to mutter nonsense to him, his voice soft and soothing.
Matthew rolled his eyes, but didn't protest. He might as well let the lovebirds have their moment.
When they got back to the hotel, they moved their stuff to Gilbert and Alfred's room, since Matthew and Arthur's door was still broken. It was nearing dawn, but they were dead tired. Gilbert had woken up on the way back. Matthew and Arthur fell into one bed with Gilbert and Alfred in the other. They'd been asleep for maybe half an hour before Arthur got up and slunk in beside Alfred, awkwardly putting an arm around him. That made Gilbert nearly fall off the bed. He woke up, and, grumbling, migrated over to Matthew's bed, taking the spot Arthur had vacated. He mumbled something about it still being warm before falling back asleep.
Arthur was the first to wake up. He had spooned Alfred in his sleep. He scooted back a bit, but didn't move all that much. He didn't want to leave the warm spot. He would have been embarrassed in any other situation, but fuck it. He felt too tired to feel anything but exhaustion.
Matthew was the next to awaken; the first thing he noticed was that there was something on him that shouldn't be there. He realized what it was in record time. If he had been able to slap himself, he would have. Gilbert was half on top of him, with one arm flung across his chest and a leg on top of his.
Gilbert woke up next, and tried to roll away from Matthew, except he rolled the wrong way, and now he was really on top of Matthew, so he rolled again, but that just made them tangled in blankets. They tried to untangle themselves, but that made them even more trapped, so they started swearing and telling each other what to do.
That woke up Alfred, who sat up and stared at Gilbert and Matthew. "What the hell are you guys doing?"
"Trying to untangle ourselves," Matthew replied in irritation, his voice muffled. "MOVE YOUR LEG! YOU'RE ABOUT TO KNEE MY DICK!"
"Sorry," Gilbert said, rolling his eyes as he moved his legs.
Arthur would have sighed if it wouldn't have hurt his throat, so he settled for getting out of bed, scratching his stomach. He looked for his bag, and he found it on the desk; he pulled out pants, a shirt, and boxers. He walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He was going to take the first shower of the day.
When Alfred got out of the shower, they looked at him expectantly. Gilbert and Matthew had managed to free themselves from the blankets. He looked back at them. "What?"
"Get us breakfast," Gilbert replied in a 'duh' voice. "Don't forget Arthur's tea, and get honey to sweeten it. It works for sore throats. Maybe it'll work for a guy that nearly died from being choked."
Arthur threw a book at him.
Alfred rolled his eyes, but said, "Aye, aye, Cap'n."
When he left the room, Matthew stood up to get clothes to take a shower, but stopped by the bathroom. "By the way, Gilbert, remember when Arthur and I told you about our relationship? It was all a lie. We don't like each other that way." He closed the door before Gilbert could form a reply.
The albino turned to Arthur, his eyes wide. "WHAT?"
Arthur rolled his eyes and nodded.
"ARE YOU SERIOUS?"
Arthur just looked at him.
Gilbert slapped himself on the forehead. "I can't believe I was fooled! God, you guys should just go be actors or something." He couldn't deny the twinge of relief he felt at the news, however. Now he didn't have to kick Arthur's ass to get Matthew. He was pretty sure it would have been against the rules, anyway. Well, it was a win-win situation, nonetheless.
When Alfred got back, they had finished showering and were playing a game of Go Moose. He held up the bags of McDylan's. "Oh, no, ignore me and the food I bring back. No, just keep playing a game of cards. I don't mind."
Matthew got up to get two of the bags; he handed one of them over to Arthur, who nodded at him in place of a thank-you. Gilbert snorted and got his own. "Thanks, Al," he said, taking the tray of drinks, as well. "You know we love this shit, even though you eventually eat our hamburgers unless we eat them first."
Alfred shrugged. "What can I say? I love burgers."
Within 20 minutes, they finished packing. Matthew blinked a couple of times, using the contacts he had for back-up. Alfred gave him a thumbs up.
"You know, bro? You look better without glasses." Alfred said. Matthew stuck his tongue out.
"Whatever. I get mistaken for a chick way too often without my glasses." He huffed, and patted on his pair of black jeans he borrowed from Alfred. He was also wearing a shirt that was 2 sizes too big for him that read 'AMERICA' and had multi-colored paint strokes on it. "Wow. This shirt." Matthew smiled. Alfred looked at it.
"Yeah. That was when we were only 6." Alfred sighed dreamily. "I have amazing skills."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." He pulled on his tattered blazer. Luckily, it was washed, so it didn't reek of whores and blood anymore. "I'm driving!" He called out, hoisting his backpack onto his shoulder.
"What! I wanted to drive!" Alfred huffed. Gilbert gave them a look.
"I thought I was going to drive!" Gilbert said incredulously.
"No." Arthur said. "Matthew's driving."
They piled in to the car, with Gilbert sitting in shotgun. After revving it a couple of times, they took off at a normal speed.
After a few minutes, Alfred got bored. He started to kick at Matthew's seat. Matthew didn't notice it at first, until he wouldn't stop. After 5 minutes, Matthew stopped at a red light, and turned to give Alfred a look.
"Would you stop kicking my seat?" He said irritably.
"No." Alfred grinned.
"Stop it or I'll leave you on the curb so that you have to hitch-hike your way back." This made Alfred shut up, since Matthew would actually do that. Arthur was staring out the window, but stopped after a guy with a green mohawk gave him a whistle and the middle finger.
Arthur rolled the window down and yelled, 'FUCK OFF!'
Gilbert proceeded to wave at the people rolling down in buses. Some girls waved back. Others gave him a look. Most, however, ignored him, which made him rather irritated. How could they ignore his awesomeness?
Arthur did not enjoy people watching anymore, so he was crawling into the trunk. Well, about to, until Alfred pulled him back.
"What the fuck?" Arthur called out.
"You didn't let me do it last time, so you can't!"
"PFFFFFT!" Gilbert laughed, causing Arthur to punch him.
"OW! Bitch!" Gilbert rubbed his arm, and punched Arthur back.
"What! How dare you, you ungrateful little-"
"You're one to talk!"
"Look, can you guys just shut up-"
"Mattie, just drive!"
"Say one more word and I'll kick you out." Alfred quieted down again, causing Gilbert to laugh. Matthew sent Gilbert a death glare.
"Okay, someone shove Gilbert out of here." Matthew announced. Arthur's ears perked up.
"Allow me to do it." He offered. Gilbert's eyes widened.
"WHAT! Birdy, I though we had something special together!" Gilbert groaned. Matthew stopped at a red light, and turned to look at him.
"WAIT! WAIT! Are you cheating on Arthur, Mattie?" Alfred gasped, his hand covering his mouth dramatically.
Arthur sighed, and crossed his arms. Matthew resisted the urge to slam his head onto the steering wheel.
"No, Alfred." He said slowly, as though talking to a 2 year old. "I am not cheating on Arthur."
Gilbert looked at Alfred. "Technically, he's not cheating, since they're not dating." This time, Alfred's jaw dropped down.
"WHAT? S... so you two are SEX FRIENDS?" Alfred shrieked this time. Arthur gave him a punch on the eye.
"No, you bloody git!" He roared.
"JUST SHUT UP AND LET ME DRIVE." Matthew yelled, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. That made everyone settle down for a few seconds.
"Just shut up and drive~" Alfred suddenly sang. Gilbert chimed in.
"Get under my um-brella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh!"
"P-p-p-poker face puh-puh-puhker face!"
"Rah, rah, ruhma ma!~"
"And I was like, baby, baby, baby oh!~"
"And I was like baby, baby, baby- EW JUSTIN BEIBER, DAMN YOU GILBERT!"
"OH MY GOD, SHUT UP!" Matthew slammed his hand on the wheel, making the car honk loudly.
"No." Alfred and Gilbert said at the same time.
Matthew calmly did a U turn, and parked the car. The first thing he did was unfasten his seatbelt. He then opened Gilbert's door.
"What are you-" He didn't even get to finish his sentence before he was pulled out and thrown harshly onto the ground. "Hey!" Gilbert groaned. "I was ripped up by an incubus yesterday!" He paid no attention, and opened Alfred's door.
"Aw, bro, c'mon-" He was also thrown down to the floor. Matthew walked back and sat down on his seat, starting the car again. Ignoring Gilbert and Alfred's shouts, he drove off into the distance.
They drove in silence for about two minutes.
"You know, it's really quiet in here." Matthew remarked.
"Yeah." Arthur said.
He parked along the curb. "I guess we'll just wait for them to catch up..."
They waited for a while. Arthur looked at his nails, and Matthew tapped the steering wheel. Arthur said finally, "Do you think we should tell Alfred?"
Matthew shrugged. "Yeah, probably."
They lapsed back into silence.
Alfred and Gilbert showed up some fifteen minutes later, huffing. "I hate," Gilbert panted as he got in the passenger seat, "you guys." He buckled himself in and Alfred did the same. "If you're going to... c-commit mutiny, you should just... do it right."
Matthew looked at him. "Do you want to run back to the Institute?"
"No."
"Exactly."
Matthew resumed driving, and it was rather quiet for quite a long time. Finally, when they were a few miles away from the Institute of the Otherworldly, Matthew relented. "Okay, you guys can talk now, I guess..."
Gilbert made a noise like a sheep. Alfred replied with another sheep noise. They made a chorus of sheep sounds while Matthew resisted the urge to hit his face against the steering wheel. Arthur just crossed his arms and looked out the window. That went on until Matthew parked in the Institute's parking lot.
They all got out normally, compared to the last time, and Alfred stretched. "Well, this has been an interesting day."
"Very interesting," Arthur agreed dryly.
Gilbert looked at them. "... Now what? Do we just report back?"
Matthew shrugged. "Yeah."
"I find that very un-awesome compared to everything else we've done."
"No one asked you."
Matthew felt the gaze boring down at him. This was the third time in a row that he had requested for a new uniform, and although it was normal for the students to rip up their clothes, it didn't happen as often as he did.
"Had a rough night?" She commented dryly. She was about 20 years old and distributed uniforms. Her name tag gleamed, reflecting the black letters of 'RENAISSANCE'. Her blonde hair was sweeped up into a messy bun, and her manicured nails were squared and painted navy blue. Her dark blue eyes looked bored, but did a once-over on his outfit, checking out his America shirt, tattered blazer, and his messy hair.
"You can say that." Matthew sighed. "Thank you for the uniform, Renaissance."
"No problem." She replied. "Call me Renee, Matthew. Renaissance is such a mouthful."
"Alright... Renee." He said. Renee flipped through her shiny magazine.
"Anyway, you're a B rank now, right?" She said, her eyes never leaving the magazine.
"Er, yeah. Gilbert's reporting right now." He said.
"Gilbert?" At this, she raised her head. "Gilbert... Gilbert... Albino?"
"Yeah."
"Cocky attitude?"
"Yeah."
"Has this yellow bird?"
"Are you trying to say something?"
"Tell him to apologize for calling Roderich a pussy, alright? And to go to his brother." She said, and then swiveled back on her chair. Matthew cocked his head, but then walked off anyway.
It was an odd feeling, to be a B rank. He had been at the C rank for so long that it was a foreign feeling, to feel stronger. He felt already ten times better, as though he could run a marathon without stopping. (And that's pretty insane.)
Of course, life wasn't that easy.
HANDY-DANDY TRANSLATIONS OF THE SPELLS
Ári, burt með þér. Flýja frá þessum stað. Leita leið aftur til helvítis=Demon, away with you. Escape from this place. Seek your way back to hell.
Fara í brott!=Begone!
Lækna=cure/heal/put right/right/straighten out
Lagast=heal/mend
It's all in Icelandic. We are using translation sites for it, so I'm sorry if we get anything wrong!