Well, I hope y'all are starting to enjoy the story. Sorry for taking forever to update, but I've been caught up in LOADS of drama. I still don't expect much it being a spur of the moment story; however I shall stick to it.

When you are faced with a choice

An impossible one

One you never knew was possible

How would you feel if you chose wrong?..

~Shanghai Festival~

Arthur was expecting pain, the pain of a bullet piercing his body, but it never came. He opened his eyes to see what stopped the gang of gunmen from killing him.

The first thing he noticed was that he was running, which explained why he wasn't harmed or anything. He knew he heard a gunshot, but did he or anyone else get hurt? The second thing he noticed was that someone was holding his hand, a young man with blond hair and a brown bomber jacket with the number 50 on the back. He seemed intently focused on the path ahead, bobbing and weaving through the spectators mesmerized by the fireworks. The mysterious man hadn't looked back yet which made Arthur curious.

'Who is this man and why did he save me? I mean, I know I should be grateful but still he-'

"Hey, you okay back there dude?" He heard a voice ask.

Arthur broke from his thoughts and found that they'd stopped running and were standing by a masks booth, far from the armed gunmen.

"Oh right. Yes, I-I'm fine, thank you..." The Brit trailed off, hoping the other would get the message.

The man chuckled and turned to face him. He was a bit taller than Arthur. He had sky blue eyes that while seeming inviting and friendly, had a cold, calculating look to them. Glasses framed those eyes of his.

"Alfred. Alfred F. Jones."

"Oh, well it's a pleasure Alfred." Arthur replied.

Alfred nodded; a bright grin donned his face. But then it soon faded away, replaced by that seriousness again.

"Why were those guys trying to hurt you?"

Arthur gasped at that, not just because he had nearly gone and gotten himself killed, but also because of that dead woman he saw. Who had killed her and why put her someplace where people would notice? And why had the gang tried to kill him? It was almost as if they could have been the cause and were trying to kill him for it though he didn't know why. But maybe he was reading too much into it.

"I have no clue at all really." He answered finally.

Alfred glared a bit at him which made the other look down to avoid that icy look he received.

"Do you know what happened to that woman? Why she's dead?" He asked, eyes never leaving the British man.

"I really don't. I just found her like that and the next thing I know, I'm getting shot at and some guy is dragging me away from all that. Come to think of it...how do I know that you're not one of them?" Arthur retorted.

Alfred scoffed at that, a smirk crossing his face.

"I wouldn't waste a bullet on you."

Ouch. He knew that it was meant to be a good thing, but it still stung.

"If I'm such a nuisance, why'd you save me?"

"I never said you were a nuisance, you merely assumed it." Alfred replied, that smirk never leaving his face.

'I ought to wipe that damn smirk off his face...' Arthur thought.

"By the way, I never got your name." Alfred said.

"Oh how rude of me. I'm Arthur Kirkland."

"You British?" Alfred asked.

"What do you think git?" He snapped.

"Feisty. I like that since it keeps things fun."

"Well, I'm glad I can keep you entertained." Arthur replied sarcastically.

"Chillax dude. By the way, I'm American if you don't know."

Arthur was about to reply with a smart comeback when gunshots were heard not too far.

The two men turned to see people running away screaming, pure fear in their eyes.

"Looks like our conversation will have to wait." Alfred said.

He then drew a gun from inside his jacket, much to Brit's shock.

"Stay here. Don't follow me and if any gunmen approach, go hide, you hear?" He ordered, looking back.

Arthur paused for a second before nodding to him. The American smiled at him before running towards the mayhem. Arthur failed to notice how Alfred's eyes changed from blue to a bloody red.

'I have to study my attacker's movement and remain cautious no matter what.' He thought.

He stopped when he reached his target. A man who looked no older than 18 with spiky blond chin length hair dressed in what seemed to be combat clothes. He was covered in blood, his victims lying at his feet, a gun in his hand. He had a wild look in his green eyes as though he's lost sense of the world around him.

"Who the hell are you? You've got guts to stand in front of me and not fear being gunned down!" The man exclaimed.

Alfred didn't reply, he merely stared at the man before him. His eyes shined an even brighter red as he scanned the man in front of him. An aura of color surrounded the gunman; it was a deep red with a bit of blue.

"The color of sadness and rage." Alfred whispered to himself.

"I don't have time for the likes of you, so get the fuck out of my way!"

The man shot at Alfred who effortlessly dodged them, running up to the man and delivering a roundhouse kick to his face. The man flew back, but recovered quickly, flipping onto his feet. He glared at the American before running towards a moving bus, leaping onto it. Alfred followed suit. The man turned towards Alfred with the wild look still in eyes, the wind whipping around them both.

"I know who you are Alfred F. Jones. Or should I say Canaan?" The man yelled.

Alfred grew shocked for a second but regained his composure.

"The proclaimed Iron Heart Shooter, the one who kills with no mercy. The one who made it out of the Cursed Village. The one with Synthesia. The one who saw Kiku before he was killed."

His eyes narrowed, rage beginning to creep onto his features. His eyes froze over with icy hatred.

"Who are you? How do you know who I am? Who Kiku is?"

The man smirked, "I'm Vash Zwingli and I'm just having some fun. Killing people seemed pretty fun, so here I am. I would've gotten that other guy, the spiky blond haired Brit."

Alfred pointed his gun at Vash, "Why target Arthur like that?"

Vash shrugged, "Don't know and why do you care? It's not like you know him. In fact, I'll finish him off right now by sending the gang after him. I'd love to see his body on the floor, dead and painted in blood. All alone with no one around." He smiled maliciously.

Something about what he said made Alfred snap. He started shooting at Vash who just cackled and returned fire. Alfred dodged the bullets again and tried to punch Vash who moved out of the way and struck Alfred in the face with his gun.

"Foolish, foolish Canaan. Can't even take a joke, eh?" He laughed.

He then sat on Alfred's stomach, wrapping his hands around the American's throat. He squeezed while giggling like a madman. Alfred grit his teeth and kicked his legs, trying to free himself from the other's grip, but to no avail. He could only glare at the man until he spotted something behind him.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Vash looked behind himself and his eyes widened in horror as he saw what Alfred saw.

Power Lines.

He shouted in fear as he tried to move, but it was too late. The lines wrapped around Vash, electrocuting him. His pained screams piercing the nighttime sky. Alfred could only stare back pitifully as the man is electrocuted.