"Are you not going to tell me your name, special little Royal Guard?" Alfred asked patiently, repeatedly.
"I do believe I don't have to. Besides, why do you need my name? What would you, no, what could you possibly give me in return?" Alfred just stared at him. "Well..." Alfred wouldn't stop asking him until he told him.
"Well, first off, I could tell you my name."
The guard's face twisting with fatigue. "I know your name. You're that American that escaped from every single prison they could get you into. That's why you're in England. Alfred Jones. Or, as people have gotten used to calling you, Hitman Jones." Alfred looked amused.
"Well, glad to know you know me," he paused, thinking if asking again right now would be a good choice. He decided it was. "Please? Your name."
The man looked angry, with an unexplainable expression on his face. "Kirkland. My name's Kirkland," he spoke softly, letting out a slow, deep breath. He knew he couldn't win. He never could.
Alfred looked victorious. "Oh, splendid! Is that what you would like to be called? You'll be with me a while, we may as well get comfortable with each other. Later, you can tell me your first name, if you would."
"Arthur."
"Excuse me?"
"My name's Arthur! Arthur Kirkland! Now stop asking me questions! Any more information you'll get from me, I will tell you myself, without you nagging me on. Bloody hell, stop nagging me. Wait, how long until I can leave?" He spat out. Alfred just smiled. He didn't know why, but the little angry rant made his heart flutter. Finally speaking more than just a word or two. Or at most a sentence.
"Well, well, well. Arthur it is then. And, you'll be leaving when I let you leave. I don't know when that is, but I will know when the certain time comes."
.
After what seemed like half an hour, Arthur saw a huge building. It was old, probably abandoned. The small windows were smashed in, and the grey bricks were stained with red. Arthur wondered if the red was spilled paint, or something else. There was a huge, dead, oak tree that twisted around itself near the building. The building has maybe four stories, with equal number of windows on each one. Dead grass and weeds surrounded the building. Arthur felt a cold shiver down his spine from the sight.
"Like it? I move around a lot, but this is where Francis, Ivan, and I stay. Now you. Arthur," Alfred looked down on him, stretching a grin across his face.
"Mm. Not really. Now, who is Francis, and who is Ivan?" Arthur quickly felt afraid. He's staying in this building. This psychotic man lives here, with two other men that are also most likely psycho.
"Shame shame. Well, too bad. 'Cuz this is where I live, and this is where you're staying. You better get used to it. And if you don't, too bad. Too bad for you, 'cuz I'm not gonna be moving myself or you anytime soon."
Arthur didn't reply. Instead, he looked up at the dead tree that they started to walk underneath. He couldn't escape, not with the man's strong grip turning his wrist white. He knew that he had to go along, if he wanted to stay alive. That was his one goal, to go back. To escape. To stay alive. But he knew if he ran, he'd get shot or stabbed. Die from it.
"Watch your step, little guard. These stairs are a little crooked and broken."
Arthur snickered at him. He looked at him, prepared to make a rude comeback. Alfred was staring at him, right into him. Arthur stared right back at him, but his gaze faded. He tried to keep his stature, but his knees weakened when the man looked at him. He knew what was coming, what he was thinking. He tried to shake the thoughts that clouded his head, but the clouds in his head turned into butterflies in his stomach. Arthur tried to tell himself that he felt nervous because he just got captured and taken hostage by the most dangerous man in America and England, and he was being taken to something that looked like an abandoned insane asylum. But he knew it was more than that. Arthur tried to remind himself who this man is, how much he has killed, and he just met him. Especially when the meeting came with a knife to his throat and death threats. But no matter how dangerous someone is, their eyes will never fail to shine. Especially Alfred's. The shade of blue of them like the sky on the clearest day, and his hair in a bit of a mess, and glasses framing his eyes. And those eyes looking at him, into him, made him shiver.
"Well, go on. Up the stairs. Carefully. I never harmed a hostage, and I don't plan on starting," Alfred laughed as he looked up to the big doors behind the staircase. Arthur didn't want to go up the stairs at all. They were old, cracked, and covered with moss and grass. Broken glass decorated them, along with the discoloration in them. They were falling apart, and pieces that fell off were scattered on the grass around them. They certainly matched the rest of the building.
But he had no choice. He had to go up there; his opinion on if he wanted to or not doesn't matter. It never did, to anyone. Arthur walked up the stairs, careful not to fall or hurt himself in the broken pieces of the staircase. Alfred skipped up the stairs, Arthur watching him the whole time. Alfred opened the door and stared at Arthur, eyes sparkling.
"Wait, wait, wait. Let me go get Francis real fast. Ivan isn't here, so he can't greet you now, but Francis is here…"
"Aright. Okay, go get him," Arthur cut Alfred off. He thought that maybe he could run while Alfred was inside, not looking at him. He got a little excited, maybe he could leave. But his mind hesitated, he was already being treated better than he was back there. Even though everyone looked up to him, he was always lonely. Nobody thought they could possibly talk to him without the military talk, so he could never make friends. He was too far of a rank up, nobody thought they could possibly talk to someone like him. He didn't want to go back, but he didn't want to stay here where he could possibly die if he wasn't careful enough. Arthur thought for too long about his decision, because Alfred appeared in the doorway. There was another man standing next to him. He had longer blonde hair and stood slightly taller than chin was lined with stumble, and his green eyes sparkled.
"Hello, there, small one. I'm Francis. Oh, Alfred, what a lovely little man you've captured for me. I am most grateful. Come come, child, this way," the man motioned for him to enter and turned on his heel and walked away.
"Don't mind him. Some days he's a bit… off," Alfred flatly stated. Arthur stared past him, down into the dark air inside. He took a hesitant step through the doorway, and was immediately overcome by dust and the smell of old brick. Arthur coughed and took a shaking step back, but was stopped by Alfred right behind him, who grabbed his arm and started walking down the hall.
"Excuse you, but I don't really want to go down there. Let me go now, I demand it," Arthur's tone of started to harden.
"Oh, what's wrong, Little Arthur? You were becoming so comfortable, what's with this sudden change of attitude?" Alfred asked, lacking concern in his voice.
"Don't call me little! I'm more than likely older than you! And let me go!" Arthur was getting angry at being treated like this. He didn't mind not getting beat up, but this Alfred guy was treating him like his best friend, and he's already sick of it. After all, Alfred had the chance of killing him not under an hour ago, and he would've if the people chose the wrong thing.
Alfred just smirked at him. "Oh, Arthur, please. Calm down. Now follow me, I'll show you where you'll be staying." He turned around and started walking down the barely lit hall. Arthur immediately followed, not wanting to be alone in the now empty room. Arthur walked in silence, avoiding coming too close to Alfred. He stared at the walls as he walked past, off-white wallpaper and paint peeling off the wooden wall. He glanced around nervously as he spotted a big red spot on the wall and onto the floor.
"Hey. Would you mind me asking, what is the spot of red from?" Arthur asked shakily. He was hoping it was just spilled paint, just as he did with the outside brick. The light dimmed as he walked down the hall, the above lights flickering. Arthur felt a cold air patch and a shiver ran down his spine. The air was thick with dust and mold.
"How long is this hall, anyways?" Arthur asked impatiently, but got no answer. All of a sudden, Alfred turned and left from Arthur's sight. He stopped walking, shocked. He was alone in the hall, and fear lifted into his throat. He tried to walk, but his legs didn't want to move. He started to shake and panicked thoughts ran through his head. Arthur had been in frightful situations all his life, but he's never felt like this before. Arthur suddenly felt a presence behind him. He didn't move, he was too scared to.
"Frightened, darling?" The voice whispered next to his ear, breath hot on his neck. Arthur turned and smacked the person right in their face.
"Ouch, Arthur! Why did you do that? Can't you take a light game?" Alfred walked in front of him, looking displeased while rubbing his nose.
"Slight? You call that a slight game!" Arthur grabbed his hand and pulled it off his nose. He raised his fist up to his face, his rage boiling over, making Alfred flinch.
"Okay, okay! Whatever, I won't do it again. Chill down," Alfred turned his back to Arthur again. "Come on, Arthur. Follow," Alfred started to walk back down the long, dark hallway. Arthur pushed himself to follow him again. Arthur spotted Alfred turning the corner into another room again, and started to clench his fists, thinking he was going to disappear again. But he was wrong, seeing that Alfred made sure he saw him in the doorway. He looked down, avoiding eye contact, and when Arthur walked up to him, he moved out of the way to let Arthur pass. Arthur really wondered why his behavior changed so dramatically, and even though he was very mad and annoyed, he couldn't help but feel bad for hitting him because of how he's holding himself. But Arthur realized that it could be an act, but he couldn't find a solid reason for faking his behavior. Arthur stopped in the doorway, looking straight to Alfred.
"Something wrong?" Arthur couldn't handle the face Alfred had. He looked extremely down for some reason. When he asked, Alfred looked up from the floor to him, and his face lit up.
"No no, I was just thinking. Come on, Artie, go in," Alfred spoke rapidly, enthusiasm flowing over in his voice. Arthur thought he looked like a child.
"Don't call me that, mister. You're not my friend, I don't even know you. You just took me as a hostage, you never knew me before. Oh yeah, why are you even treating me like a normal person, anyways? Just a couple hours ago you easily could've killed me and walked away without a care. Just treat me like a normal hostage, will you? You're not my friend, okay? Why don't you just hit me, beat me, throw me in that room and tie me up to the wall and feed me bread and water once a day? I used to think that you were this big, scary person that would kill a person in a second. What is this, huh? Who the bloody hell do you think I am, a civilian? Don't think I won't kill you and run back if I had the chance," Arthur had enough. He couldn't stand this treatment, and honestly, he felt like this Alfred guy doesn't know how to correctly hold a hostage.
"Have you ever held a hostage before? Do you know how to properly treat a hostage or no?" Alfred's face twisted at Arthur's question.
"Um, little Artie, am I not known for hostage holding? And do you really want me to treat you like a normal person and hurt you with no reason? I don't go down that low. Really, Arthur, I only hurt a man if he deserves it. Really deserves it. But no I will not hurt someone if he has done nothing wrong. Just the fact that I'm holding you prisoner does not mean you did anything wrong," Alfred spoke softly, slowly. Arthur looked into his face, straight into his eyes. He's told no lies, and Arthur knew that. Even if he begged him to hit him, he would never. Alfred may be a criminal, but Arthur could tell, he was a good man if he wanted to be.
"A lot of people put a bad name on me, but I'm just trying to survive. I grew up on a farm, so there were never police around and I did what I wanted to. Once I visited a city when I was older, I acted like I normally did. Went to jail, too. Almost killed a man. I escaped from that weak prison. When I was little, me and my little brother Matthew used to play games like that. Trapped each other in small, secure places that not even my old man could get out off. We escaped real fast, so I had no problem getting out of a prison. Then I was wanted, and on the run. That process went on over and over again, until I was brought to England, but even your country's prisons are easy ro get of. More secure than America's, but better. I would never sit through my sentences in jail, because I did nothing wrong. Everyone forgot about the almost murder from a while ago, too. I'm just still blindly wanted. That man didn't even die, I don't know why it's such a big deal. But I guess, all the rumors that I've senselessly killed all those innocent people, ha, that's all shit. Just a pile a shit. They were all policemen, and it was all an act of self-defense. I would never kill even a policemen without a good-ass reason. Are you going to believe me or not?" Alfred looked down and around the room, anxiety spreading across his face.
"I-I'm sorry, Alfred. I didn't know. It's just, you threatened me, and I felt like you were a danger. But, you could still be lying, and I would never know. You prove yourself, and make me believe you, show me. Don't just tell me you're a good man, show me that you are. I would love to believe you, but all I know, you could be really good at lying and that's just your cover up." Arthur walked through the long awaiting door and into the dusty room. He started coughing as soon as he looked back at Alfred.
"Are you okay, Arthur? Um, um, I don't have anything like water, what do you need? Um, Arthur?" Arthur fell on his knees, resulted from his large coughing fit.
"It-it's fine. I'm okay, I promise. I just have a slight," Arthur stopped talking to release a huge cough. He continued once his throat cleared a little. "A slight problem with, um, dust," he finished. Arthur sighed, and coughed again. "Bloody hell! I can't stay here Alfred. You need a new hostage, sorry. One without problems with dust and dark and spiders and creepy houses and possible blood on the wall and a really weird guy with long hair and another one with glasses and a maniac look plastered on his face that is actually really nice even though he's the most wanted man in two countries, " Arthur stopped with his rapid listing to breathe.
"Jesus Christ, Arthur. Calm down. You're fine, you're okay," Alfred stood up and turned to go. "If there is anything you need, come one out. But I'm guessing you're probably gonna stay in here whenever you can to stay away from us. It's good. Goodbye," Alfred walked out of the doorway and shut the door.
Arthur sighed and stood up. He looked around the almost empty room. There was a little, worn down bed pushed up against the wall. There was a sink in the opposite corner, with a little door next to it. Arthur had no idea what could possibly be in there, but he took a daring guess it was the bathroom. At least, he hoped so. There was a little desk made of old wood next to the door that would probably be off the market by this year. He was surprised it was standing by the way it looked. A chair that matched was pushed under it. He turned around and found a window in the only corner left. He walked up to it, slightly surprised by how large it was. Arthur gently pushed up the ribbed black the back of his hand and glared out the old, dirty window. Arthur's chest swelled up at the view. Hills rolled out with a dead orchard covering most of the green grass hills. There was a large, tall, old oak tree fairly close to the building. It wrapped around itself, with large full leaves covering the branches. He looked out at the clear horizon, finding mountains lining it. England was usually raining, but it was an unusual day. The sun shone out, soon falling down until no one here could see it. The sky was a bright blue, and a couple small white clouds dotted it.
Arthur dropped the curtain and slowly walked to the bed. He sat down and looked around the sadistic room. He prayed for a change of pace in his life, but this is not at all what he meant. Although, Alfred was sweet, and he knew that. He believed his story, but he just said he didn't so Alfred would stay away from him. Arthur dropped his head and placed it into his hands, trying to rid every thought of Alfred. He thought that he succeeded, but once he laid down, right before his mind drifted into unconscious sleep, the image of Alfred smiling appeared into his mind. Not the crazy one, but the genuine one. The one that made him look, in Arthur's opinion, very handsome and not so crazy.
To be continued...