BETCHA THOUGHT I ABANDONED THIS STORY, HUH?
Well you'd be correct. I fell off writing this and completely abandoned the site for a while. But I'm back now and I'm determined the finish this. Especially after leaving off on a cruel cliffhanger.
I mean, I lost the outline for this story, so I'm not sure what I was getting at with the cult and stuff, but eh. Whatever.
I haven't written for this in a while, so bare with me. But this story will be finished, it might just take a while to be done. School and stuff keeps me busy, plus I'm writing a new story at the moment(The Hospital Chronicles) and I suck at juggling stories. Not to mention, it's late here and I'm up wiring this.
About my other unfinished stories: yeah, I might just rewrite them completely since I can barely stand to re-read them. I typed like a ten year old and just blah. So yep, no promises on that front.
Enough with this author's note
Please enjoy the severely late chapter eight!
{~O~}
Alfred opened the door and gasped. There was Arthur, slumped down in a metal chair, his eyes closed. Beside him was the albino man, an empty syringe in his hand.
"What did you do?" Alfred demanded, narrowing his eyes.
"How the hell did you find us?" He asked, looking bewildered.
"I've got my methods, now answer my question." Alfred's voice took a serious turn.
The frosty haired man cackled. "I've injected Arthur with a special serum. Brainwashed him, basically. The Arthur you know is gone."
"What?!" Alfred yelled, taking a step forward.
"It's all necessary. He's the Sacred One!" Gilbert laughed again.
"Sacred One?"
"Might as well give you the whole story. Us Misfits live a hard life. We're treated like dirt! Ignored, laughed at, discriminated against. And why? Because of our hair colour?" Gilbert spat, "For a long time, we waited for a leader, a saviour. Arthur is that leader. And once he's brainwashed to believe us, we can get our revenge."
"Wait, so you aren't fighting for equality or anything?" Alfred asked, puzzled.
"Hell no! We're looking at a mass genocide. And the only way we can do it is to have Arthur brainwashed, so he'll listen to us."
"You're so sick." Alfred growled, glaring at Gilbert. Gilbert smirked, and Alfred scanned the room for something to use for a weapon.
"Oh, one last detail. The reason Arthur is the destined leader is because of his ability."
"Ability?"
"Like I'd tell someone as idiotic as you." Gilbert chuckled. Alfred fumed, his eyes mulling over the objects in the room. He saw a metal tray, which he believed medical tools were set on. I can probably get to it quicker than that albino. He calculated in his mind, his eyes now looking into bright red ones.
"Honestly, I shouldn't have told you anything from the start. You're a Perfect, you wouldn't understand." He spat out.
Alfred clenched his teeth together and shot toward the table. Gilbert turned, shocked, as Alfred snagged the cold tray. The albino frowned and ran to the mini-fridge which contained syringes filled with different liquids. Alfred was too slow to react as Gilbert stood up, holding a syringe filled with a bright green substance.
"Say goodnight." Gilbert smirked, rushing at him. The Perfect snapped out of his stupor and managed to sidestep the frosty haired man.
Then, Alfred turned and ran at Gilbert, managing to hit him in the face with the tray.
Gilbert fell to the ground, clutching his face. The syringe flew from his hand. "Damn you." He growled at Alfred.
It was somewhat of a glaring match until both of them realised the syringe was lying three feet away.
Gilbert lunged and Alfred dove, capturing the syringe in his hand.
"Nighty night." Alfred muttered, sticking the syringe into the albino's neck. Gilbert instantly fell limp on the ground, out cold.
Now that Gilbert was taken care of, Alfred looked to Arthur. He needed to get him out.
"Al!"
"Mon ami!"
Alfred turned to see Francis and Matthew at the doorway.
"Dude, you both got here just in time." Alfred smiled weakly.
"What happened to him?" Matthew pointed at Gilbert.
"Long story. Both of you come here and help me get Arthur." Alfred bent down, looking at the Misfit. Up close, he had soft, delicate features. Except for those eyebrows. But in all honestly, Alfred thought he was quite cute.
Matthew and Francis nodded simultaneously, and began untying Arthur's wrists from the chair.
"The poor little thing." Francis murmured, undoing the last restraint.
"Hurry. I'll carry him." Alfred picked up the blonde haired teen, surprised at how little he weighed.
"He's so small." Alfred looked at the unconscious Misfit in his arms, having an overwhelming urge to kiss his forehead.
"Come on, Al! They're going to catch us." Matthew tugged at Alfred's sleeve, and Alfred nodded.
The trio ran back up to the first floor of the Church, and out of the door.
{~oOo~}
"So, now we wait for him to wake up." Matthew said, sitting on the couch.
"Yeah. I'm gonna shower. You two gonna be okay?" Alfred looked from Matthew to Francis.
"Oui. We'll put on a movie or something."
"Alright, cool." Alfred stood up, glancing at Arthur, who they had placed in the other couch and wrapped in a blanket. Sighing, Alfred bounded up the stairs.
-
The hot water felt wonderful on Alfred's face, allowing him a chance to be alone with his thoughts.
Why? Why Arthur? Alfred smoothed back his wet hair and leaned forward, resting his forehead on the tile. The water ran down his back. What has Arthur done to deserve any of this? How will he act when he wakes up?
Alfred took a deep breath and finished his shower.
The Perfect wrapped his towel around his waist and walked to his room, changing into pyjamas. As he combed his hair, he heard a thump and yelling from downstairs. Worried, Alfred stood, running down the stairs to see what had happened.
{~oOo~}
Yoooooo, I think I can get back into this story. I can't say how often I'll update, but I promise to attempt to finish this.
Not sure what happened to my Beta, so at the moment, this is un-beta'd.
If chapter seven and eight don't completely line up, I'm sorry.
Anyway, thanks for reading!