Yo! Hikou no Kokoro back with another chapter. This is one of the shorter Law Chapters, but it's officially the start of "crap hitting the fan." Technically, in my opinion, this is just the trickling and "typing up" the ends of the preliminary chapters-as in, you'll finally be seeing Alfred and Matthew! But things will really start going down on the next chapter, which I finished and I put on reserve.

Anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers: Hetalia. It rightfully belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz. I merely own the AU plot.

To Create Perfection

"It is not light that we need, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder.
We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake."
—Frederick Douglass

"Law 2: Preludes, Part 2"

The look on Arthur's face had been utterly priceless. At first, Arthur didn't know what to think. He had never heard of experiments having both code numbers and names. But then the implications finally hit him. Arthur Kirkland, with the help of his mentor, was going to handle human experiments. Never in his life had working with human experiments been at the top of his expectation list.

But Arthur was no fool. He had heard many stories of human experimentation. In fact, there had been plenty of that many years before the creation of the World Domain and BCWD; there were some psychology and medicine tests using volunteers, although a good number of them had sprouted controversy, such as the Stanford Prison Experiment. So in that moment, Arthur figured nothing was wrong, especially since the experiments would be conducted in the World Domain, where controversy couldn't touch anything. But why had Francis looked so disapproving?

Francis had let out a long sigh and approached Ludwig's desk. In an almost hushed tone that somehow still sounded crisp and clear, he had asked, "Did you tell them of the arrangements?"

Ludwig had nodded. "Of course, Bonnefoy. I had a feeling that you would disagree with the arrangement, so I had sent Vargas to clear as many troubles he could," Ludwig had explained. "Edelstein also did their check-ups and appointments, so you do not need to worry about anything other than what you think is needed."

"Fine. Thank you."

And then Francis and Arthur had left to go to the BCWD Hospital and Medical Research Centre. Arthur was still as confused as ever. He would switch from looking ahead in the hallways to looking up at Francis and back. On the other hand, Francis started jabbering away, waving his arms around in a strange sign language to accompany his words. It seemed that Francis was back to his normal self. "Today's beautiful!" he would say. "What's your family like?" he would ask.

Still Arthur said nothing so Francis was talking to himself. But his silence wasn't because of annoyance; there was no grunt of acknowledgement to prove that he was even affected by Francis' meaningless banter. Arthur was thinking, trying desperately to pull apart the indications of possible danger. He didn't understand. And he hated that. Everything came out abstract to him. What was going on? What should he think? What was the most practical decision he could make? Arthur couldn't register anything except for the sun, the windows, and the passing white walls and doors; he was thinking about everything, running possibility after possibility, scenario after scenario, through his mind, so then he could stand stable ground, his more favoured situation. Little did he know that he was thinking much too hard about this, and Francis was about to attempt to clear things up.

In what seemed to be like moments, the two stopped at a brown door in the middle of the hallway. It was like a splotch against the white, windowless wall. Off to the right, close to a little dent in the door, was a label with little numbers on it. And below that label, metallic numbers told 29.

"You know, I really like these door systems," Francis said aimlessly, reaching into his pockets for his ID card. Arthur didn't know what Francis had talked about previously in order to get on the subject of doors. "They're not like those fancy things you see in the other branches, with those funky blood scanners or fingerprint-identifiers or something like that. They're simple—card and keypad. Yet they still seem to provide maximum protection. I have no idea they work though." Then Francis slid the plastic into the little dent in the door. Like the other doors on BCWD campus, a keypad slid right out. However, oddly enough, the keys did not have numbers. Instead, indiscernible symbols decorated the top. They were nothing like Arthur had seen before. Yet, Francis' fingers still glided over the keys as if the characters were as familiar as the Roman alphabet. Once he hit enter, a burst of red lines travelled across the brown and the door slid open with a soft vacuuming sound. "You know, I'll never get used to that."

The room was a small, narrow space with a width of the BCWD corridor and twice that length. On the far end a window let the sun in, lighting up only half of the room. Two sets of cabinets and counters lined the walls directly adjacent to the window, littered with papers, boxes, and plastic-wrapped equipment. And directly next to where the door Francis had opened was one bathroom that stemmed from the room like a hollow, box-like tumour. And between the opening to the bathroom and the pairs of counters and cabinets leaned two plain beds with grey metal frames and immaculately white sheets, pushed against opposite walls. A blond teen sat on one of the beds and a polar bear plushie sat on the other.

For a split second, the boy was facing the other empty bed with slumped shoulders. He seemed to have been talking to somebody. But that quick moment passed before Arthur could notice anything. Upon hearing the door, the boy was sitting up at attention, back straight, hands resting on his lap, and his head turned towards Arthur and Francis. A pair of brilliantly bright eyes stared at the two men, glimmering with every drop of child-like excitement through a set of thin, rectangular glasses. They were a brilliantly bright blue colour, surrounded by the hue of pale skin and framed by messy, dirty-blond hair that curled inwards towards his eyebrows and his nose. And although the shade was light and tinted like the blue of the scrubs he was wearing, there was a strange quality to them, as if they shone like cats' eyes in the dark environments, giving them an electrical effect similar to the neon yellow of his hospital band and his fire-truck red of his fluffy slippers.

A large grin spread across the boy's face. "Dude! Francis! Y'brought company!" he exclaimed. His voice was as obnoxious as a blaring siren, coming out loudly and nasally as if he spent his days listening to music turned all the way up. The boy bounded over to them. "But did you bring me any candy?"

Francis smiled back as he entered the room with Arthur following and the door closing behind them. "I think so," Francis replied. He slipped his ID card into one of his back pants pockets; then he reached into the lowest right pocket of his pocket and pulled a handful of plastic-wrapped sweets. "I don't have any gummies, though."

Alfred cheered and snatched the candy from Francis. "Don't ya worry your beard, Frannie." With his palms up, the teenager counted under his breath. There were two sticks of gum, four pieces of hard candy, a lollipop, and two chunks of milk chocolate. He seemed to be quite satisfied with the number, breathing deeply through his nose, and stuffed the pieces into his scrubs' pocket. "Thanks, dude!" he said before he bounded back over to his bed and plopped onto it.

"Make sure to save some for Matthew. And don't eat them too quickly when I'm not looking either; you'd get sick, and then I can't give you any more."

"Yeah, yeah, Mum." Alfred brought his legs up onto the bed, leaving his slippers on the floor, and started sitting in the Turkish style. He pulled back out the lollipop and two pieces of hard candy.

"So, Alfred, where's Matthew?"

"Right there." A finger pointed briefly towards the bed across from him.

Arthur looked at them in a bewildered expression. He saw nobody except the stuffed animal on the bed. Blinking, he looked towards the area again. But he still saw nothing. Was he missing something and the obviously inanimate bear was this "Matthew," or did Alfred have an imaginary friend and Francis was humouring the teen as he usually seemed to do? But that would make no sense after what Ludwig had said. Unfortunately, his confused looked had gone unnoticed for Francis walked up to the empty bed and Alfred was unwrapping a piece of candy.

Suddenly, Alfred tossed the lime-green sweet through the air. Francis ducked and it flew right over his head. Then a hand caught it. But it was neither Alfred's hand, which was across the room, nor Francis', which was slipped into one of his many pockets. In fact, the hand wasn't even there before; Arthur was sure of it. Instead, the hand had appeared right when it caught the candy, rippling into existence. Promptly afterwards, a whole boy appeared; a shimmering effect trailed from the palm to his feet until finally, he was finally completely opaque.

He looked like any normal boy; he must have been around the same age as Alfred. In fact, he looked quite similar to Alfred: They had the same, thin hands, same rounded cheekbones, same nose, same mouth, same hair colour, same pairs of glasses, and, most of all, the same eyes. They were the same light blue hue, looking around with the same electrical effect. But, at the same time, they were not the same, just like how the boy cut his wavy hair at a length just above his shoulders rather than close to his scalp, or how his scrubs were white rather than blue or how his hospital band was red rather than yellow. In a very strange and subtle way, the eyes almost shone purple under the faint light of the room, yet somehow still remained the exact same hue of light blue at the same time.

Arthur blinked and rubbed his eyes. Then he looked back to see if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Apparently not. The boy was still there, and he picked up the polar bear plushie and cuddled it.

"Ah! There you are, mon Mathieu!" Francis exclaimed, trotting to the bed to sit beside Matthew. The teenager smiled softly and popped the hard candy into his mouth. Then Francis wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders and pulled him close, grinning as he looked back at Arthur. "This is Matthew, Arthur!"

Matthew waved.

Arthur sputtered, eyes wide with shock. "W-when did he get here? H-how?"

Alfred laughed. "Dude! He was always here! You just couldn't see him!" He scooted over on his bed to give Arthur some room to sit.

"Exactly. Let me explain." Arthur didn't take the seat, so Francis gestured to the space. Arthur sat down after, staring at the eldest man. "These two kiddies are two out of the four hundred patients of the Adaptation or Evolution series. We're trying to enhance or borrow some capabilities of different species in hopes to add to the gene pool in preparation for any disasters. Matthew here is in one of the camouflage section; his cells are capable of contorting to the point that they will either bend the light or lose all opacity until he and objects directly next to him—such as clothing—are invisible to most light or movement detecting eyes. Alfred, on the other hand—" Alfred waved both of his hands enthusiastically at Arthur and Francis "—has enhanced cell repair or cell turnover, and muscle capacity; he's in the 'immortality' section, or so he calls it."

"But that is totally what I am, dude!" Alfred shouted.

"Okay."

Arthur paused for a moment. Then he asked, "So they're a pair of superhuman beings?"

"Sort of." Francis leaned back on his hands and crossed his legs. "They have to get examinations and appointments biweekly, and they have a variety of physical problems. But they pretty much fit in those fiction novels during the days of old."

Interrupting the conversation, Matthew tapped Francis' shoulder. Francis immediately looked at Matthew, dropping any extra comments he was about to add. "Is something wrong?" the BCWD staff member asked. The teen pointed at his throat. Francis nodded in understanding. "Of course. One moment." Then he got up and moved to the closest counters beside the bed. Matthew's gaze followed after him.

Arthur stared at Francis as well, wondering what was going on. But while Francis was opening the cabinets and pulling vials and bottles and utensils out, Alfred leaned over and whispered, "Hey, how long are you two staying here?"

Arthur shrugged, only briefly looking at Alfred before going back to Francis. His mentor was breaking seals of the different bottles and pouring them into a cup. At first, the liquid was transparent, like water. Then the colour turned grey when a few drops of a cloudy substance were added.

Alfred stayed silent for only a moment to think. Then he asked, "Then how long are you going to be taking care of us?"

Arthur shrugged again, his gaze darting to Alfred before going back. "I don't know. Mr. Beilschmidt told me that you're my first assignment. I figure that will be so for maybe a year or two until I finish my internship. Or maybe I'm wrong and I will be getting a new assignment in two weeks or maybe a month."

Alfred pulled away, frowning slightly. "Well, y'better stick around for longer than that!" Then he scooted closer to Arthur, pointing at Francis with his thumb. "Frannie there's the best doc in this jurisdiction! The rest are all crap," he explained quietly in Arthur's ear, as if he was telling a secret.

Arthur quirked an eyebrow. "Oh really? How so?"

"He just is! He's the nicest guy y'can find! Have you even seen some of the other docs?"

Arthur shook his head. His green eyes darted back to Alfred. However, they didn't dart back to Francis.

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Well, then, don't. They're all so crabby." He leaned back, crossing his arms across his chest and pouting. "They just come around, finish their work, and go away. 'Your next appointment will be in two weeks on the twenty-first.' 'I will be seeing you for your next examination tomorrow.' Bah! That's all they say or do! So boring! The rest—no better! Some o' th'nurses and docs come over and ask if you need anything. But they don't even give you what you want when you answer, so then what's the point of asking in the first place?" Alfred let out a frustrated sigh. His head tilted back so he stared at the ceiling. "And then that Edelstein and Adnan are the worst!"

Arthur shifted in his seat, his hands resting on his lap. "What do you mean?"

Alfred looked back at the BCWD intern. His eyebrows were curved and contorted in such a fashion that the look on his face almost literally wrote, "Are you serious?" Then, he glanced between Matthew and Francis, who seemed to have done nothing different since the last time he looked at them, before leaning back towards Arthur and muttering in a low, serious voice. "Edelstein and Adnan. Never heard of them?" Arthur shook his head. "They're seriously the worst, man; no doubt there. Edelstein walks and talks like he has a stick so far up his ass that he can't even walk properly. He's the stuffiest, prissiest company you could ever find. And that Doc Adnan? They call him the 'Headhunter,' y'know."

Instinctively, Arthur leaned closer to Alfred as well. He didn't know why he was acting like some sort of sissy schoolgirl sharing secrets with her friend, but he was. After seeing the "Headhunter" personally only the day before, Arthur was curious on what others would say about the man in the mask. The man had seemed all right to Arthur, but his eccentricities were quite strange, even to the other anomalies of the population. Subconsciously, Arthur glanced back in Francis direction. The eldest male in the room was still concocting something, and the solution was quickly turning a faint yellow.

Alfred spoke so softly that Arthur strained to hear the husky voice. "If you see him once, your hospital band will change. If you see him twice, you'll have more appointments and examinations. If you see him three times, you're on your deathbed. And if you see him more than that, you'll be tortured before you're killed."

Arthur pulled away. Those words were nothing he had expected. They were merely superstitions of the patients within the BCWD campus; they carried little to no weight to him. Yet he could understand how those sorts of rumours would start. That white mask did give a foreboding feeling whenever Adnan wasn't speaking or grinning. Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but then Alfred pulled Arthur closer by his sleeve.

"I suggest you stay away from him. He's no friend you should get, bud. He's Death incarnate."

"Why?" Arthur whispered.

Alfred pulled away and shrugged. "I don't know. But that's what I heard. His patients had all died within three to four months under his custody; two of them survived two years though—don't know how. And the peeps he operated on—I heard they always get the worst nightmares and hallucinations. I think about half of them died within a two months since the operations and stuff."

Arthur sat backwards and slumped, scowling. "Is that so?" He glanced left and right and at his hands. Then he looked back up at Alfred.

The teen was unwrapping another piece of hard candy. It was a pink one with the words "Cherry" written across it. "Hey, did you know that the cafeteria food is awesome?" he asked, moving onto something else to talk about. His grin spread across his face again as he popped the sweet into his mouth. "The burgers here are awesome! They're super yummy; they have pickles, lettuce, cheese, bacon, tomatoes—Oh! Do you know Lovino and Antonio? They're, like, addicted to tomatoes, dude!"

Slowly, Arthur's attention had wandered off and Alfred's loud and obnoxious words began to trail off through his head. He no longer wanted to hear what superficial information Alfred was going to give. Rudely, Arthur looked in Francis' direction instead. The doctor dropped a pill into the cup. The casing started to dissolve and rivulets of black substance dissolved like clouds of smoke. The procedure seemed absolutely fascinating. It looked quite complicated, especially since Francis had dedicated so much time and effort to complete whatever substance was in the cup. Arthur looked at Matthew, whom this supposedly medicine was for.

Matthew was disappearing. He was losing his opacity; Arthur could see where the bed met the wall through Matthew's head and eyes that continued to watch Francis with a stillness of a sculpture. Arthur could no longer see the boy's hands, and his clothes began to shimmer a silvery white that partly reflected the surrounding décor. Already, the plushie polar bear, with its limp head and dead-looking bead eyes, appeared to float over the bed. In a fit of panic, Arthur reached and touched Matthew's shoulder.

Matthew jolted. With a turn of his head, he once again regained the colour and substance, his whole being rippling as if a stone was thrown upon a glass lake. The brilliantly blue eyes, which still seemed so purple to Arthur, looked up at the intern, shocked and curious. Then a small smile crossed the teen's face. His eyes softened; they looked identical to Alfred's.

"Oh, do you want to administer his medicine?"

Arthur looked in the direction of the voice, both he and Matthew startled by the sudden sound. Francis was standing beside them, leaning on one leg and smiling as he held the cup up. The liquid had turned a deep, opaque red. In the light, there were shades of purple and little swirls of either light pink or black that made it appear cloudy. Hesitantly, Arthur let Matthew go and wiped his hand on his pants before reaching out to take the glass. Francis handed it over, and then Arthur simply stared. The intern had no idea what to do with it. So then he did the first and most obvious thing he could do; he simply held it out to Matthew.

At first, Matthew stared at it as well. Then he looked up at Arthur, and then at Francis, and back. He didn't seem to know what to do either, but he took the glass anyway, nodding slowly and shooting Arthur another one of his small smiles. Then he held the glass to his lips and sipped. His eyes didn't seem to move; they simply stared up at Arthur, wide like two glistening stuck into Matthew's head.

Suddenly, the door slid open. Almost all head snapped in that direction—only Matthew's had not moved for it stayed in place and continued to look up at Arthur—and silence was cast over them. Standing at the doorway, huffing and puffing like a wolf on the run, was a man with black hair and glasses. In truth, he looked a bit funny. He appeared, in every way, a proper gentleman: His black hair was slicked into a plain style with a part off to the side, his rectangular-framed glasses sat level upon his nose, and he stood with every piece of dignity that could be mustered. But at the same time, he was an utter mess. His coat and scrubs had vague crease lines running up and down in ruler-like lines, but they were predominately wrinkled. Webs upon webs criss-crossed across the fabric and left nothing crisp. His sneakers were no better. The laces were tied into perfection, but the actual shoes were covered in dirt and scuffed up around the toe and heel areas.

"Ew! It's Edelstein!" Alfred exclaimed, making a face.

The black-haired man shot Alfred a striking glare. But it was brief and held little to no weight for it quickly was directed to Francis. Of course it was towards Francis. For some odd reason, Francis always seemed to be doing something wrong, at least according to Arthur. "I finally found you," Edelstein said, pointing an accusing finger towards the other man clad in a lab coat. His voice was a strange one: His pronunciations were rough and grating; however, at the same time, his tone was nasally and uppity, flowing with an almost condescending demeanour. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to hunt you down when you don't have either your Bluetooth or your tablet with you? I wasted almost an hour looking up and down campus all because of your pathetic cyber-phobia!" He breathed in deeply, his shoulders and chest moving upwards, and exhaled with a loud hiss.

"It shouldn't have been that hard to find me," Francis replied with a roll of his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest and continued with a patronising tone that imitated Edelstein's, "So what do you need?"

Edelstein sighed and rubbed his forehead and eyes with his hands. His breathing calmed down quite a bit, and he spoke with a lowered voice and a level gaze. "I need you to check on Antonio for me?"

"Dude! What did you do to 'Toni?" Alfred burst out. Arthur shot the teen a glare and a hiss to shut him up, but Alfred didn't seem to notice. But then again, neither did Edelstein and Francis.

"Antonio? Why don't you check up on him?" Francis shifted from one foot to another. "If you had enough time to supposedly 'hunt me down for an hour,' then you should have gone yourself."

Edelstein's shoulders sagged as he let out another sigh. He shook his head and gave a regretful smile. "No, that won't work."

"…I see." Francis sighed as well as he trudged towards the door. "Arthur, we're going to Room 60."

Arthur scrambled to gather himself up.

"Aw! Don't leave!" Alfred whined.

Francis patted Alfred's shoulder as he passed by. "Don't worry, Alfred. We'll be back later this week." The blond doctor smiled at the teen, waving, as he stood beside Edelstein. Then his expression turned sombre again as he faced Edelstein again, ducking his head and whispering words.

Alfred whined again. The sound resembled something of a puppy's whimper, and his blue eyes were large with defeat. As Arthur walked past Alfred, he spared the teen only a second glance. Then Arthur continued without a sparing thought, seeing nothing other than what he presumed to be a sad child who couldn't get the candy in the supermarket.

But his sleeve caught on something.

Or something had caught his sleeve.

With a jolt, Arthur stopped and looked behind him, expecting to see Alfred clinging onto him and whining. But that was not the case. Instead, Matthew stood in Alfred's place, gingerly holding onto the hem of Arthur's sleeve and looking up at Arthur with a drooping gaze. Arthur had almost forgotten Matthew even existed. The glass in teen's hands was empty, cleaned from every little drop of whatever strange, red potion Francis had cooked up. Then Matthew spoke. His voice was quiet, passive, and hoarse, cracking like stones holding too much weight. That was the first time Arthur had heard Matthew say anything.

"Please save us."