A/N: I'm back in the game people! :D I hope you didn't miss me too much, but don't worry, I've now adopted a reclusive lifestyle and have given up my social life in favour of writing. In other words, real life sucks! I'd rather stay in my room and write crack. :3 I digress... I hope y'all enjoy this little chapter and I'm sorry it's ridiculously long. I'm writing this after prom, and I'm really tired... ^^; Also, I hope exams went well for everyone! This author is certainly very scared for results day... I don't own nothin'!

The morning was pretty nice, as mornings go. There were birds in the sky, and said sky was void of clouds. Local flora and fauna seemed to be prospering and content in the early breeze. You know, all the little things in life that make the day seem slightly less insufferable and more stereotypically pleasant. Alfred wasn't usually at all interested in the comings and goings of neighbouring animals and their dispositions on certain days, but the blue skies and cheerful dogs pulling their owners across the street seemed to invigorate him on this occasion. Why this was exactly, he couldn't say. Nevertheless, he was more than pleased to walk to school in the blissful heat. In fact, he was grateful for his mother's early asthma attack that had woken him thick-voiced and blurry-eyed that morning, as it meant he could arrive at school in time to meet his prudishly strict companion for the days sleuthing session. He cheerfully skipped passed an elderly couple out for a morning walk, wishing them an equally pleasant morning as he did so. Somehow, the thought of spending the entire day with Iggy was even more appealing than the surprisingly bright weather. He could imagine the British boy's soft chuckle even now...

Not that he liked it that much or anything. Not at all.

The large gates of the academy could now be seen from across the way where Alfred strolled. He knew that from this distance, they appeared pristine and perfectly white despite their years of being heaved open and closed every morning and evening of the school week. It was only when you got in close that the dents and paint chippings could be seen to the naked eye, and only the students themselves had the pleasure of noticing the poor quality of the building. The teachers seemed to be completely blind to it or unwilling to even bat an eyelid at the old wings and corridors. Alfred didn't particularly mind the poor upkeep of the establishment; if anything he'd grown so used to it that he kind of liked it. Arthur, on the other hand, had the capacity to bitch and whine about the graffiti covered walls and scratched desks all morning (and for a good part of the afternoon too). The very idea of an improper school building and the general disregard for such a building's conditions was unacceptable to him. It was that very thought that gave his British friend the idea to run for student body president. Even now, in the perfectly balmy conditions of the morning, Alfred felt himself shudder at the thought. His friend had had enough trouble fitting in as it was, gunning for a public position like that would no doubt only encourage the bullies. In addition to that, he would be running against the infamous Ludwig Beilschmidt; student council president two years running. And still at large now.

"Al... w-wait up...!" A small voice 'shouted' behind him. He was surprised to find his younger brother running up to meet him, short of breath as if he'd ran the entire journey. "Mattie! Hey! How did you get to school so quickly? I didn't even notice you." At this, he saw the mild-mannered Matthew sigh. Straightening his glasses he replied meekly. "I've been with you the entire time..."

"You have, huh?" Following the usual routine, the loud American shrugged it off and gave his brother a big pat on the back that nearly sent him flying. Hey, what can I say? It's how he shows his affection. The two had always been close despite being as different as night and day. Matthew Williams-Jones was quiet (and that's an understatement), kind and intellectual. Alfred was bright, cheerful and athletic. Nevertheless, Alfred always stuck by Matthew and had even helped him through a tough time of bullying. The memories of Matthew growing quieter and sadder had been somewhat rekindled in him when he met Arthur; he had seen it all before, the usual routine of mocking and belittlement. Now he knew how important it was to stop it. He knew that the faceless, speechless victims had voices of their own and personalities that couldn't be ignored.

The two had passed the gates now and were making their way across the courtyard towards the stone steps that lead to the great double doors of the school. Throughout the entirety of their journey, they'd only passed one other student which struck them as odd. The early start had meant fewer students, but not none. Where were they all?

A light tap to his shoulder caught Alfred's attention and he turned around to meet the eyes of a very frightened looking Matthew. "Don't freak out Al, but look." The quiet blonde raised a pale finger to point at twenty odd students crowded around something- or someone on the floor. The majority of faces were lit up with concern and pity, and some phones had been produced to dial for an ambulance. However, a couple of older looking boys were clearly laughing at what seemed to be a seriously injured Arthur leaning against the wall. Some were snapping photos of the limp looking Brit, ignoring the fact that his head was bleeding significantly. Alfred was most certainly freaking out. Not only had Artie been attacked, but some assholes were making fun of him? He was just about ready to bash their brains in.

"Nothing to see here everyone! I think we've all had our fill of 'mock the bleeding crazy guy'!" A French accent shouted at the crowd as Francis ran towards them, worry very apparent in his clear cerulean eyes. His timing was impeccable, to say the least. The severity of the situation must have finally sunk in as the crowd dispersed and made way for Francis. "Angleterre! What have they done to you mon amis?" sobs wracked through his body as he hugged the unconscious boy with all the dramatic flair he could muster. And being the 'tres bien' fashionista he was, that was a lot. Whilst the others continued to smother Arthur with hugs and concerned glances, Alfred clenched his fists and bit down hard on his lower lip. He had to find whoever was responsible for the attacks. He was sure the phantom attacker was related to the bludgeoning of Arthur; it was the same violent calling card.

"I'm sorry about Arthur, mi amigo but you might want to take a look at this." The sudden appearance of the Spanish ghost scared the crap out of him and caught the American off guard. Antonio gave the other boy a worried yet stern glance, apparently having noticed his anger. "Are you okay?"

"You don't need to worry about me. Iggy's the one with the head injury. You said you have something to show me?" If he hadn't been so angry, Alfred would have been impressed with how he handled a conversation with someone from beyond the grave. Still, there were more important things to be concerning himself with than his own personal growth. "Si." The brunette produced a sleek black smartphone decorated with the French flag. "Franny was sent a message. That's how we knew about Arthur." Fully aware of the Spaniard's emerald eyes watching him as he did so, Alfred unlocked the screen of the device and read the message it displayed;

From: Unknown Number

I don't believe we've had the honour of speaking before. I have had a chat with your little English friend though. If you want him to live you'd better call an ambulance now. If you want your whole gang to survive the semester, then you'd better keep you noses out of my business. See you at the party.

The first thing that struck the curious teen as odd, was that the mystery sender seemed to be incapable of typing in text speak. In this day and age, who couldn't? The second (and considerably more important) clue was the last sentence. 'See you at the party'. What party? Was it a threat? "I don't get it. What the hell does this guy want? I haven't even heard of any parties being thrown!" he mused allowed, noticing the sound of sirens growing louder in the background. Matthew looked up at his brother from where he knelt on the hard, hot concrete that had retained a good deal of heat from the sun's rays. "He must mean Gil's- uh, I mean Gilbert's party this Saturday..." The boy blushed at the unintentional familiarity of using the boisterous German's nickname aloud. His closeness with one of the most popular boy's in school caused a few raised eyebrows from Francis and Antonio. Alfred on the other hand, was more cautious than curious. He knew Gilbert and was fully aware of what an ass he could be. Why was his angelic little bro hanging out with him? Meanwhile, Francis and Antonio appeared to be plotting away, smirking at the thought of attending Gilbert's party and despite the situation, let out a few excited chuckles. As the group continued warily thinking their options through (which took longer than usual, being that Arthur was usually the one doing the thinking), a bright ambulance sped up to them past the tall school gates and veered to a stop.

"Guys, if we want to stop this jerk, we're going to have a busy Saturday night."