Hey, hey, hey!
I don't own APH.
"He's been captured by the Russians."
Arthur observed the spy that sat in front of him with cold green eyes. The poor fellow swallowed and continued.
"It was like he was asking to be captured, though. His hair…he'd dyed it red, white, and blue, and was wearing sparkly pink sunglasses. And…he was wearing an old white disco suit with a silk violet top. Which was also very sparkly."
The nameless spy concluded his statement, and scuttled out of the room, allowing Arthur to stew by himself. Which, in retrospect, was a very good idea. Five minutes later the room was entirely destroyed, and Arthur was nursing some bruised knuckles.
Arthur pressed the talk button on the pager, which somehow was unscathed, and said, "Gloria, call Wilson and tell him to get my jet ready!"
"Hey, Ivan! Lovely weather we're having, yeah?"
Ivan sighed at Alfred's apparel. "Really, Al? Could you have made yourself more obvious?"
"I dug this outta my dad's closet." He turned around, displaying the words written on the back of his disco pants—which read, Imma target!, and had a big red bulls eye embroidered between the words. "These're great, right?"
Ivan nearly choked at—did Alfred even know what the words insinuated?
"People kept grabbing my ass, though. It was really, really weird."
Apparently not.
"Alfred, think that over in your head." Ivan rubbed his temples in a self-suffering way. There was a long pause, and then Alfred let out a soft, 'Oh,'. When Ivan next looked up, Alfred was wearing only boxers, and was sending the disco pants a scathing glare.
"They made me do it. I swear, it was the pants. With their cool, disco-y-ness—it's like the wrong trousers, from Wallace and Grommet[1]. Dude, that dog was sick."
Ivan sent Alfred a blank look.
"What?" Alfred asked, folding the pants up. "Wallace and Grommet is the most awesome-est movie ever! It's about a dog and a fat guy, and the dog is really smart but the guy is kind of dumb. We forgot the crackers, Grommet!" Alfred laughed.
Ivan shook his head. American pop culture, he thought, and suddenly remembered the other American—or was it Canadian? Sitting in the other room, convinced his brother was dead.
He turned around and opened the door to make sure the little guy was still there, before beckoning Alfred forwards.
"What is it, Ive? What's with this cloak and dagger stuff—" Alfred cut off abruptly when he saw the person in the other room, who was staring at the wall with a vacant expression. "Ivan—Ivan, who is that? Who is that?"
Ivan shushed Alfred, watching him carefully with violet eyes. "I believe I have found your brother. Or, that is what he claims to be. You two certainly look alike."
Alfred shut his eyes, grimacing slightly, before opening them again, still staring at Matthew. His eyes flared with sudden recognition and, unbidden, a name slipped from his lips. "Mattie…"
Matthew whipped around, and met eyes with his supposed-dead brother. "Al…" He gasped, eyes widening. Without a second though, he leapt from the chair and wrapped his arms around Alfred, eyes squeezed shut. "Oh Al…I thought you died!"
"I guess I didn't, huh?" Alfred smiled bitterly, and Ivan knew it was because he probably couldn't remember much about his own brother.
There was a short pause, as though an ominous weight was pressing down around them. Then, Matthew spoke. "Ivan says you have amnesia."
"Yeah. I do." Alfred sighed, and rested his chin on the top of Matthew's head.
"Do you remember me?"
"Sort of."
Ivan back out of the room, watching the brothers with a half-smile on his face. He had better let them catch up—after all, Matthew could fill in the holes better than he could. To be honest, even before Alfred got amnesia they didn't talk about the past. They only focused on the then and now—Ivan didn't know if it was because Alfred didn't trust him or just wanted to protect him.
He turned around to go grab something strong—maybe a coffee, but more likely some vodka—when his face met with the barrel of a gun. Two cold green eyes stared up at him, while Ivan blinked in shock.
"Don't move." Arthur Kirkland said. "Or you'll be in a world of pain."
Arthur stared down at Alfred, sneering in contempt. The American glared back up at Arthur, normally blue eyes almost black with rage.
"If you tell anyone about this—if you disobey me in any way, I will make you suffer. Your friends will die first, and then I will torture you with their memory. Then, I will put you through the worst pain imaginable…and then you shall die. Is that what you want…Alfred?"
This is kind of dark... so anyway, my explanation. Alfred was part of this group. Then, he wanted out of the group. Arthur wouldn't stand for it. Hence, this three-shot.
FoREVerhauntingme and TribalGirl (Your reviews were very similar, so...): Yes, I did update. Aren't you happy now? :)
bleach-otaku: I hope you liked the ending. My updates can be kind of slow, so...
pengirl100and2: Really? Thanks. I'm glad you liked it-most of this stuff comes from the top of my head. It's nice to get more reviewers.
And I must mention that TribalGril reviewed a bunch of other chapters. I look once: "Aw, only 67 reviews." When I next look: "fja;oiegnaoiegjwae$$3i85y3? 78?" So thanks. :)
IceEckos12