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Sunder	By : tamasama Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 4271 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers: Hetalia. This is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to the lives of any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. I make no profit from the writing of this work of fiction.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
CHAPTER TWO

“Fuck you, Mattie.” Alfred’s voice was a distracted mumble as he struggled with a Rubix cube and followed behind his brother. The sun was on its last leg of life for the day and they had decided nearly forty minutes ago to visit their good friend and companero, a mister Arthur of Rich Family X. He was the owner of a rather fabulous and “hipsterishly underground” (as Alfred so eloquently put it) chain of dance clubs. He was a fantastically talented guitarist and lyricist. He was the lowest garbage-can junky that side of Manhattan Alfred and Arthur had met some three years ago in a filthy back ally across the street from one of New York’s many hospitals. True to the clichéd nature of the world, it had to be raining. Arthur was lying limply over a few bags of garbage, his green eyes staring straight up into the battering droplets.
Alfred had stopped, eyed him closely, poked him in the head with the end of his bat a few times before he gave up on a response. He lifted the wooden bludgeon with the intention of slamming the life out of the sedated man before Arthur had come together enough to articulate a sentence.
“Who the bloody hell are you, ya dirty fucking wanker?” Pure irritation danced in his clear emerald eyes as he furrowed his thick brow and sat up groggily. He swayed back and forth dangerously as he spoke, seeing double of the hazy blob that was supposed to represent Alfred. “Well if you don’t need anything, how about you kindly piss off!” He yelled in his general direction, sniffing. He had on a worn pair of Converse sneakers and form-fitting plaid pants that were held on by a multitude of studded belts. Alluringly tight black white-beater pulled over his petite form, a mess of black and red bracelets adorning his wrists and, of course, his ever-present ‘Anarchy’ symbol necklace was firmly in place. When he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and placed one to his lips, Alfred noticed that his nails were painted a mixture of black and green.
He flicked the old lighter again and again, grumbling loudly at its failure to catch. When Alfred offered him his own lighter, Arthur had just grunted and used it before retuning it with a mumbled, “Thank you.” The tips of his blonde hair were died green and seemed to glow in the darkness when Arthur inhaled the smoke deeply, the cherry of his cigarette appeared to be bright enough to light the entire alleyway, or so it felt like at the time. He had growled low with his head hanging limply to one side before blowing twin tails of smoke from his nostrils with an annoyed glare in Alfred’s direction.
“What?”
“I was gonna kill you, but now I’m not sure if I want to.” He tapped the bat lightly on his calf, watching Arthur nestle himself into the sopping garbage bags in an attempt to find extra comfort. He waited a moment, waiting to decide whether or not the man would die based on his response.
Arthur had thought it over for what seemed to them both like decades before he took another long drag of his cigarette and lifted his finger to flip Alfred the bird with a hoarse smoke-belching laugh. “Piss off, ya lily-livered twat.” He dug in another pocket for a moment to retrieve a small red plastic flask filled with liquor and suck down about half of it in one strong gulp. Alfred had laughed, loudly and so full of joviality that soon Arthur found himself laughing right along with him while being totally unable to fathom why. They had been friends ever since.
In the present, Matthew stuck his tongue out childishly at his brother, walking backwards in front of him with Kumajirou held firmly in his arms. Another crack about Alfred’s steadily climbing scale numbers, followed up with a stab at his intelligence. People thought Matthew was this nice, quiet, and polite guy. Alfred’s pained ego said otherwise, but he knew better than to stress the point. Matthew was in a rather sunny mood that day; he awoke at the early hour of eight in the morning to pack their home’s mountain of litter into trash bags and store them in a relatively unused closet to await garbage day, vacuumed, and did dishes before he set about cooking a hearty breakfast at around 10:00am. Alfred had awoken to a hot plate of bacon, eggs, toast, and an orange. Matthew set a mug of coffee on the floor beside their bed before wandering away to continue his cleaning. He had indulged Alfred in some rather satisfying sex on the bathroom floor, mowed the lawn, and cleaned the windows. They burned through three games of rummy and an alien invasion film before he declared that they should see their good friend Arthur.
“Alfred, please listen when people are talking to you.” His brother was saying, walking beside him with a small scowl on his lips.
Alfred laughed awkwardly and shrugged, burying his hands into his pockets. “Sorry man, I’ve been having weird flashback montages or something.” Matthew raised an eyebrow but said nothing, letting his fingers stroke softly through the fur of his stuffed bear’s stomach. If Alfred did not know better he would have wondered if the thing had gained some weight, it was just so fat. He looked ahead and on the horizon saw the brightly-lit body of Arthur’s club, Playground. Alfred had always thought the name sounded a little fruity but he made no mention of it around the self-proclaimed ‘gentleman.’
The bouncer knew them as VIPs so he waved them through ahead of the long line of fabulously dressed people that littered the sidewalk. The music was loud and thickly laden in bass, the beats gave the sensation that they would rattle one apart if given half the chance, and bright colorful lights shot over the twisting, undulating crowd. Alfred took Matthew by the hand and went about all but dragging him through the tightly-packed dancers and toward Arthur’s office, which lied off of the right wall on the second floor. Matthew yelped out tiny apologies left and right as he was pulled through the full crowd, his face turning pinker with each unsure step.
By the time they had barged into Arthur’s office, Matthew was about ready to fall into a panic attack. Alfred threw the door open with a bellowed “Whassap?!” hand held high in some strange kind of salute. Arthur glared at him for a moment before dipping his head down to indulge in a long line of coke, his plush brown desk chair squeaking softly as he moved his nose slowly over the enticing powder. He flopped lazily in his seat and tilted his head back while sniffing loudly, then rubbed his sore nose and cracked a strained grin before slapping his hand down onto the desk with unnecessary force.
Matthew jumped at the startling sound as he pushed the door shut. Arthur rubbed his nose with the back of his index finger and sat back in his chair haughtily, resting one foot on the edge of the solid oak desk as he regarded his guests. “You Yanks must think I’m daft.” His voice cut through the quiet of the room like a knife.
“How so?” Matthew asked, taking a seat beside his brother before the desk and rearranging Kumajirou on his lap.
“Matthew, dear lad, do you know what day it is?”
“Tuesday.”
“Fucking Tuesday!” Arthur snapped with a hard glare, “I told you your fee was due on Wednesday!”
“Yeah, and it’s Tuesday, Arthur. We’re early this time.” His gaze never left the smooth buttons that were his bear’s eyes as he spoke in the hushed whisper that was his voice. His smile was light and unbothered by his older friend’s outburst.
“Wait… Wait, Tuesday? It’s only fucking Tuesday? I thought it was Friday.” Arthur grumbled, scratching his chin with a finger.
“You wanna come over, we just got this sweet new PS3 and all these games and shit!” Alfred asked excitedly, rearranging himself in the seat with a beaming grin. Arthur cast him a hard glare before he nodded.
“Just let me call Larry and tell him I’m going out.” He pulled his office phone from its base and dialed in the extension for his assistant manager’s office to relay some information and lay out what he wanted completed through the night. Orders made, payrolls sorted, a few less than magical employees canned. When he had finished speaking, he hung up the phone and prepared his things: A high-end backpack probably filled to the brim with pills, powders, and liquids of an illegal and mind-altering sort, a quick change of clothes, and his beloved Fender Stratocaster with its polished frame and burnt umber coloration. He pushed it delicately into its case as if it were made of glass before he motioned for his blonde guests to follow him from the office. He tilted his head and they followed him through a thin group of straggling clubbers to a door marked as the fire exit. He pushed it open and no alarm sounded.
“Well that was easier than pushing through all those people again.” Alfred mused, stepping out into the cool evening air of the alley. He looked at Matthew, caught the end of a relieved sigh, and smiled knowingly. His brother had never been good with socializing, and was especially skittish around large groups. How many days had Matthew been too upset to follow him to school when they were children? How many times had his crippling social phobia dashed any dreams he could have held for a healthy and productive societal life? Alfred could still see Matthew on his first day of kindergarten, standing before the class with Kumajirou hiding most of his face as he tried to introduce himself. A few sputtered whispers and a face that looked to be near bursting into flames were all it took for Alfred to come forward and do it for him before pulling the boy to the back of the class to sit beside him.
It actually came as a shock that Matthew could finally tolerate Arthur’s presence.
“Let’s stop at the gas station and pick up some sodas. Plus, I gotta get the latest New Yorker and see how awesome our headline is.” Alfred looked up and down the alley as he spoke, trying to get his bearings. He was not normally one to go stalking down alleyways at night, so he had no real applicable knowledge of the hidden veins that ran all throughout the Bronx.
“You’ve been here four years now and you still don’t know your way about?” Arthur sighed with a scowl, shaking his head and extending his hand to catch hold of Alfred’s. “Follow me, I go this way after work a lot.”
“So you live around here?” Matthew inquired quietly from his place leaning against an old dumpster.
“As if I’m going to tell you mad bastards where I live. Now come on, let’s go before we sprout roots or something.” His fingers squeezed just slightly around Alfred’s hand before he began walking brusquely down the alley, dragging him along behind. Matthew let out a little squeak at being left behind and started jogging behind them, his arms tight around Kumajirou’s stuffed belly as if he feared the little bear would hop down and go sprinting away.
Alfred looked down at his hand, clasped in Arthur’s warm and expensively adorned fingers, then back at Matthew. His brother was shuffling along just behind them, taking in the less than beautiful scenery of overflowing garbage cans and graffiti-laden walls with his usual worried-looking smile playing across his features.
Well this is all wrong, he thought with a small frown.
They had arrived at a 7-Eleven within ten minutes. Matthew peeked through the window to see something like five people perusing about inside before his face turned bright red and he announced that he would wait outside for them. Alfred tried to reassure him that all was well since it was just a convenience store but Matthew refused, his curls bouncing charmingly as he shook his head, a vigorous ‘no.’ Alfred just shrugged and followed Arthur inside, promising to only take a moment.
He rushed over to the newspaper stand and ruffled through the different publications before he found his paper of choice, The New Yorker. His eyes widened at the headline and he stood there a moment, struck dumb at the unexpected words.
Arthur was up at the counter purchasing another pack of Marlboro Reds when Alfred yelled at him loudly to join him at the other end of the store. Arthur rolled his eyes and slapped down the cash for his cigarettes, ordered the cashier to keep the change, and sauntered over to his distraught friend. “Don’t be so loud, we’re in public.”
“Yeah, whatever, dad. Shut up and take a look at this!” He pushed the paper into Arthur’s face suddenly, earning an unintelligible sputter of what was probably supposed to be a concoction of rude vocabulary for his troubles.
“You stupid twat, don’t go just shoving things into other people’s faces willy-nilly!” Even as he was yelling, Arthur pulled the paper down to a reasonable length and began to skim the front page.
“Well would you look at that.”
“’Well would you look at that’ nothing! This is really serious, dude!” Alfred snatched the paper away and marched toward the counter to purchase it, and on the way took up a few Twinkies, a bottle of Pepsi, and a few packs of chewing gum. He slapped his items down onto the counter and began digging through his wallet for the proper bills.
“If it’s so serious let me do it!” The older Englishman snapped, pulling his platinum credit card from his back pocket and offering it to the cashier. Alfred lifted his face from his wallet and beamed.
“Thanks, Arty.”
His face flashing bright pink, Arthur snapped his gaze to the floor with a scowl, “I’m just in a hurry, is all! I don’t want to stand around all day and watch you snail your way through your stupid fat wallet. A-and call me ‘Arty’ again and I’ll strangle you.” He all but snatched the pen and receipt from the bored Mexican-American cashier and scribbled his name on the line with a flourish. He cast Alfred a hard glare with his cheeks still burning before he spun around and stormed from the establishment in a cloud of curses.
Alfred just shrugged and took his bag of items from the worker’s cold hands before heading outside to show Matthew the newspaper. Arthur was leaning against the brick of the building, cursing quietly as he slammed through one of his fresh cigarettes like he was competing in a smoke-off. Matthew was sitting next to him with his knees pulled up toward his chest and his beloved bear sitting at his side, tapping his toes softly on the dirty concrete ground. Alfred thought it was cute how his toes had always seemed to point toward one another, even up into the age of twenty-two.
“Mattie, you gotta see this.” He said, walking over to squat beside him and dig in his bag. He pulled the soon-to-be obsolete information source out and handed it to his brother and scooted a little closer.
Matthew took the newspaper and looked it over with an eyebrow raised. “Another killer… different MO… dead in his apartment…” He turned to look Alfred in the eye, “So what? We’re not the first serial killers and we won’t be the last, Al. Who cares? Look,” He ruffled through the pages a bit before he found what he was looking for and opened it for his brother to see, “We got an article. ‘Notorious Skin Brothers strike again, blah blah blah’.”
“It’s not the same!” Alfred grumbled, standing. “How am I supposed to put this crappy little article in my scrapbook?” He slapped the half-page spread their latest crime had earned them to emphasize his point.
“Only idiots keep crap like that lying around in their house, anyway. Even bigger idiots stand around and tell the whole bloody world about their hobbies!” Arthur snapped back at Alfred, bursts of smoke accentuating every word. He dropped his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out as he stuffed his thumbs into the loops of his dark jeans. He let out an exaggerated sigh and shrugged.
“Someone might hear you and turn you in, and you know… It’d be kind of boring without you guys around.”
Matthew snickered softly, pushing himself up from the hard ground with the tenacity afforded only by youth, “It’s good to know you care.”
Alfred stared at Arthur for a moment before he sputtered into fits of laughter. “Holy shit Arty, that wasn’t cool at all! That kind of ‘touchy-feely’ attitude doesn’t look good on you, dude!” Arthur’s cheeks began to burn with a blush at his friend’s mocking laughter and he gritted his teeth with embarrassed rage.
“Whatever you stupid git, let’s just go to your place already before you give me an ulcer!” Arthur yelled over his shoulder as he walked to stand by the street and hail a taxi.
“You need to be nicer to Arthur, he’s a good friend to us.” Matthew said as he passed his brother to hurry toward the waiting transportation. Alfred walked quickly to catch up with him, stopping him as he was half-way into the yellow car.
“How do you mean? He’s a dick.”
Matthew ducked his head and Alfred only saw his lips stretch into a devious little grin. “Free cab ride, free dinner tonight.”

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

“I paid off the cab and bought the bloody pizza; you can at least get off of your lazy fat arse and get the damn door!” Arthur grumbled loudly as he pulled himself from his place on the ratty old bean bag chair to get their dinner.
“Thanks Arty, you’re the best!” Alfred laid on his living room floor on his stomach, face painfully close to the television. He tapped the controller in his hands impatiently before he pushed the ‘start’ button and continued the now rather one-sided battle. He crept around a corner and shot Arthur’s avatar in the head, gaining himself a mess of points.
“God damn it, Alfred, you cheating prick!” Arthur growled, dropping the greasy box down onto an empty cardboard olive box that was set up in the living room as a kind of ‘poor people’ dinner table. He jumped over Matthew, who was lying on the floor on his back and reading a book, to shove Alfred over and snatch up his own controller. “I’ll still wax the floor with you, cheating be damned!”
Matthew tucked his bookmark between the pages and set the novel aside before rolling himself from the floor to crawl on his hands and knees to the pizza box. It smelled fabulous as he pulled the top open to peek inside. He saw the greasy little circles of meat and smiled happily, he had always had a weakness for pepperoni. A hand on his rear end made him jump harshly. He swung his head around to glare daggers at his brother, “We have company.”
“Oh Arty doesn’t care, he already knows we’re an item.” He called out loudly, turning to smile at the man sitting cross-legged on the beanbag chair.
Arthur’s eyes caught Alfred’s for only a second and something akin to sadness slipped over his features before he let out a loud “huff” and glowered. He turned to fish around in his bag for a moment and pull out a little bottle of pills. “Piss off, I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do.”
“See?”
“Alfred, go be stupid somewhere else, please?” Matthew deadpanned, sitting back on his butt and taking a bite of his pizza.
“I’m not stupid!” Alfred grumbled, snatching his brother’s slice from his hand and jamming it into his own mouth.
Matthew huffed at his lost food and reached out to grab another. “Atmospheres and reading and what-not, learn them. Hey, news is coming on in a couple of minutes.” He tilted the face of his watch up for Alfred to see. His older brother gasped in disbelief and tore himself from the floor to hurry to a closet and rummage around until he came up with an empty VHS.
“Why not just get the DVD burner?” Matthew had asked him the year before in the middle of a Wal-Mart. Of course, the only way Alfred had managed to tempt him inside was to visit at around four AM when it was all but deserted.
Alfred had readjusted his glasses and they shined with the sterile florescent lights. “Well if the cops find our stash—”
“Your stash.”
“My stash, whatever, they’ll be like everyone else and only own a DVD player! Or Bluray, whatever. Anyway, they’ll need to take time to find a VHS player and we can use the confusion to escape!”
Matthew had thought of about a thousand issues with his brother’s logic; Of course the police would have a VHS player! If we get caught by the cops we’ll be dead before you get a chance to try this stupid plan. You’ll just get us tazed or something! before he just shrugged with a defeated smile, “I guess you’re right.”
Matthew chuckled at the memory as his older sibling ran to the TV and threw the cassette into the outdated box and poked the ‘record’ button before he switched the input from ‘Playstation’ to ‘cable’. The NBC opening reel had just ended and a rather pretty young lady with long, dark hair was shown at her usual place off to the side of the screen.
“Our top story today,” She said in a no-nonsense tone with a sharp tap of her paperwork, “Is there another killer terrorizing our fair city? Police speculate on the chances of the infamous ‘Skin Brothers’ changing their ‘MO’, or ‘modus operandi.’ While police declined to discuss any details on this new and grisly murder, our sources have claimed that talk of an all-new killer has been burning through police stations like wildfire.
“Over to Mr. Riddelstein, our channel four on-site reporter.” A small box appeared in the upper left-hand corner showing a man standing outside of an old apartment building with a microphone in hand.
“Thank you, Marlene.” The box grew to encompass the entire screen. “Twenty-three year old Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was found dead in his apartment sometime last night. The crime scene is not open to the press but sources have confirmed that he had been severely beaten with an unidentified blunt object and evidence points toward a sexual assault.
“Although the brutality of the attack is reminiscent of the Skin Brother’s three-year criminal career in New York alone, the method of killing is entirely different. It is also being said that something was written on the wall near the victim but there is no word as of yet to what it had said.”
“What the hell is this shit?!” Alfred yelled, shaking the television angrily, “What about us? Where the hell is our ‘on-site reporter?!’
“What does it matter? This is good, means the heat’s off of us for a while.” Matthew pointed out through a mouth full of cheese and crust.
The soft sound of Arthur lazily plucking out a tune on his guitar floated through the air to mesh with the reporters on screen. Alfred slapped the side of the TV to punctuate each word. “He’s. Stealing. My. Thunder!”
“Thunder?” Arthur muttered through a drug-induced haze and giggled quietly, bringing up the tempo of whatever song he was playing.
“You know what I mean! Mattie, listen to me.” He sat on his bum and crossed his legs, leaning forward to accentuate his point with his hands, “If this guy takes over, where will that leave us? Nobodies!”
Matthew raised an eyebrow as he pondered over the grammatical integrity of using the word ‘where’ rather than ‘who’ before he motioned for Alfred to continue with his hand, wiping the other on the leg of his jeans.
“Do you want everyone to forget who you are just because of some territory stealing bastard? At this rate we won’t even get a god damned HBO special when we’re dead!” He let his words settle for a moment, allowing them to sink in before he continued.
“You know what people will start saying when you’re doing your little ‘guess who we are’ routine? You’ll be like ‘we’re The Skin Brothers, bwah!’” He made an exaggerated ‘boo’ face which earned him a shoe thrown at his head. It flashed by and slammed heavily into the far wall. “And they’ll be all ‘dohoho, who?’ Is that what you want, bro?”
Matthew lay down on the hard floor and thought for a moment with his head resting on his arms. “Well, no…”
“Why?”
“It’d be less fun.”
“It would be less fun!” Alfred nodded his head vigorously as he reinforced his brother’s thoughts. “So what should we do about this…?”
Violet eyes flitted up to look into blue. “What?”
“We’re gonna find that guy and let him know who’s turf he’s dicking around on!”
“That’s the most idiotic thing I’ve heard all day.” Arthur’s voice was a low hum in the back of his throat, the buzzing preparation to begin adding lyrics to the song he was throwing together. He tilted his head to look from one brother to the other and rolled his eyes. “How the bloody hell do you expect to find this guy? Magic?”
“We’re not giant occult dweebs like you, Arty.” Alfred huffed, “And we’re gonna do it through superior detective work. ‘Takes a killer to catch a killer,’ am I right?”
“You stole that from a damn movie.”
“Doesn’t matter! Before we start looking for this dude, Mattie, we need to send out a message to this city! It needs to say something like ‘How dare you take us lightly?’ you know?”
“If you say anything about writing a letter or something I’ll—”
“We need to go just fuck some people up!”
Matthew rolled over with a little puff of air as he reached out to take Kumajirou into his arms and squeeze. “I’m not in the mood.”
“Oh, c’mon!” Alfred whined, hurrying over to his brother to shake his shoulder softly.
“I’ve got a headache.”
“Just one…”
“I’m tired.”
Alfred leaned over him to stare pleadingly into his eyes, “Just this once?”
He groaned loudly and pushed Alfred aside to sit up, “Fine, when?”
“Tonight, catch them off guard. We usually go through a couple a month, right? If we get another so quickly it’ll shake their shit up!” He turned to look at Arthur, who was singing softly about a tree. Probably, Alfred could never really understand what he was talking about when he was mixing his stash. “Yo Arty, you wanna come?”
“No thanks.” He sang the words along with the tune he was playing. “I’ve got better things to do than tag along with a couple psychos on some hideous killing-spree. It’s no place for a gentleman.”

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Even without him, Arthur’s club was hopping and at its peak of excitement for the night. Heavy beats pounded through the packed building, the noise drowning the sounds of clapping hands and raised voices. Alfred slid up to the beautifully sculpted bar and ordered a beer to sip while he scoped the room for a worthy candidate. It was a woman the last maybe three times, so he decided to keep an eye out for any men who might catch his brother’s rather picky fancy. That was when his gaze landed on a pair of brown-haired men sitting together on the other side of the bar. They were so similar that Alfred had to assume that they were brothers, or maybe even twins. He stood and approached them with a confident smile, nodding to them as he took a seat next to one of them.
“Ciao.” The man he was sitting beside said with a pleasant smile. His brother (twin?) leaned forward to cast a glare Alfred’s way and give him a critical once-over.
“Who the hell are you, bastard?”
“Nice to meet you guys, name’s Chris.” Alfred said charmingly, setting his beer down.
“Feliciano.”
“Lovino.”
Feliciano took a sip from his glass of Frangelico and smiled warmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Chris. Are you here by yourself?”
“Yeah, just on the look-out for some new people to talk to.” He took a small sip from his beer.
“So you’re a friendless loser, huh?” Lovino mumbled into his own glass of Cynar.
Alfred laughed loudly, mentally deciding that his brother could deal with the rude one. “I guess you could say that.” He leaned toward Feliciano and winked. “So what are you guys here for?”
The kinder sibling chucked nervously at the man’s closeness and turned his eyes to stare at the sweating glass in his hand like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen, “Well we were gonna go home soon since Lovino’s getting bored, but we could stay.”
“Like hell we’re gonna stay, I’m sick of all this noise.”
Feliciano smiled at his brother, then turned to lean in and whisper-yell past the music into Alfred’s ear, “Please don’t mind him, he’s usually not this rude… Well actually he is, but he’s really nice in there somewhere. He’s upset because his friend from work stopped taking his calls yesterday. I told him getting out of the house might get his mind off of it, but I don’t think it’s working.”
Alfred nodded knowingly and noted that Feliciano’s scent was reminiscent to that of ocean water and wine. “Then I think we should leave and go find something else to do. Besides, my brother’s supposed to be coming soon so there won’t be any third wheels.”
Feliciano smiled with the pinkish tinge of a blush dusting his cheeks as he spun around to whisper excitedly to his brother. Lovino was clearly less than thrilled to go gallivanting off into the night with some stranger with a winning smile and B-movie producer charms, but after a few long-winded pleas from his sibling he reluctantly nodded. The more bubbly of the two spun around in his seat to face Alfred. “So, where are we going?”
Alfred’s eyes lit up as he leaned closer and waved for Lovino to move in as well. Once the three men were properly huddled he spoke, “Catch this, dudes; Badass party my brother and I are throwing with THE Arthur Kirkland!”
“That owns this place?” Lovino asked, his voice oozing skepticism.
“The very same. Now,” He looked around himself as if to see if anyone was eavesdropping, “I don’t have much space at my place with all Arthur’s band shit set up, but I was thinking that I could squeeze guys as cool as yourselves in without much issue.” He looked back and forth between them, his gaze meeting their eyes in a show of solemn truthfulness.
“What do you say?”
“Yes!”
“No fucking way!”
The brothers frowned and looked at one another. Lovino spoke first, shooting a thousand dirty glares Alfred’s way, “Are you seriously buying this shit? You think this guy’s friends with Arthur god damned Kirkland?” Feliciano shook his head ‘yes’ and his brother growled in frustration.
“That Kirkland guy’s a fucking millionaire, you idiot! Why would he hang around with this guy?!”
Feliciano turned his eyes away and frowned deeply. “You’re just scared.”
“S-scared?! Fuck you, you dumb bastard, I’m not scared!” Lovino’s eyes shot up to glare holes through Alfred’s blue Nordstrom’s shirt. “Fine, we’ll come with you guys.”
He raised his eyebrows at Feliciano as if to say, “I told ya I ain’t scared.” as he tossed back the last of his drink and pulled himself up to stand. Alfred bought them a couple more extra-strong drinks, ‘for the road’ he had said, before he led the pair from the crowded space and into the heady summer night’s air. Matthew hopped up from the curb with an accusatory look on his face as he rushed over to Alfred and yanked him aside.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting out here?!” He hissed through clenched teeth, fisting a handful of Alfred’s shirt and yanking him closer.
“Chill, little bro,” he chuckled as he untangled himself from his sibling’s iron grip, “I told you to come in with me. Besides…” He nodded over to the quarreling twins with a sly smirk.
“Two of them?” Matthew asked quietly and Alfred nodded. His eyes narrowed with a kind of glee. “One for each….”
“Exactly.” The older man straightened out the rumples in his shirt before he hailed the brother-twins for introductions. “Feliciano, Lovino, this is my little brother Bob.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Matthew whispered with a shy smile, extending his slightly shaking hand weakly. He shot Alfred a glare at his name choice then turned back to smile once again, “Call me Robert.”
“Or just Bert!” Alfred chimed in, earning himself another scowl.
“It’s nice to meet you, Robert!” Feliciano said happily, giving Matthew’s hand a few good pumps before releasing him.
“Yo.” Lovino grumbled, lifting a hand in greeting.
“Well, let’s get going you guys!” Alfred said, beckoning them to follow him down the road. Matthew pulled his duffle bag tighter around his shoulder before he hurried up to Alfred’s side.
“What am I supposed to be calling you?” He asked quietly, making a show of scrunching his face into a cutely angry expression and jabbing at his watch for the men behind them. It was a trick perfected through the years and it almost never failed them, regardless as to what their excuse was for luring people out into the city with them. It made them think that the only reason he was speaking outside of their earshot was to chastise his brother on some time-line related business rather than asking for the specs on prospective victims.
Alfred threw up his hands in a display of exasperation as he spoke, “Chris, and they think we’re going to a super exclusive party with Arthur.”
Matthew’s jaw dropped in disbelief, “You actually used that one? And they actually fell for it?!”
“They were pretty sloshed when I got in there so I just went with it, ya know? And I told you all of my ideas aren’t stupid. Watch out for the pissed off one, he’s a little sharper than his brother.”
“Twins?”
“Not sure, why?”
“I’ve always wanted to do twins.”
Alfred just rolled his eyes and spun around to address the men tailing along behind them, “It isn’t too far, if you don’t mind a short walk.”
“Can’t we take a taxi?” Feliciano asked lazily, pulling a little white handkerchief from his pocket and toying with it.
“It’s not that far.” Alfred assured him, spinning back around and slowing his steps to fall back near the men. “This shit is pretty epic, it’s all set up in this old apartment building that no one uses anymore—”
“I thought you said it was at your house?” Lovino probed, raising an eyebrow.
“…What?” Alfred was caught entirely off-guard and his mind flew into overtime to come up with a way to cover his tracks. Matthew called out softly before he had much time to struggle over it.
“We’re building contractors!” When all eyes turned on him, the blonde’s cheeks began to turn pink and his eyes fell to stare at the ground, “It’s ours through the contract, ya know?”
“Y-yeah, contractors!” Alfred laughed weakly, inwardly kicking himself for the potentially fatal slip-up. “Hey, it’s right around here.” He hurried off down the sidewalk to turn a corner and come upon an old and boarded building. He pulled the door open and all four of the men stepped inside the quiet structure before he quietly pushed the door shut and slowly locked it, glad that the lock did not creek.
Feliciano looked around himself in interest, eyeing the peeling wallpaper and dusty floors with a small frown. He heard the soft scraping of something across the floor behind him as his brother spoke up from just before him, “Damn quiet for a party, isn’t it?”
Alfred aimed, swung, and grinned at the satisfying ‘crack’ of his bat connecting with the back of the kinder twin’s head as Matthew slid up behind Lovino and poked a tazer to the back of his neck and gave him a sharp shock. They both dropped like stones and Alfred turned to his brother to flash him a thumbs up. Matthew just smiled and nodded before he turned him gaze to the men on the floor. “Which one did you want?”
“You take that one, he’s a dick.” Alfred said with a little tilt of his head toward Lovino, “I’ll take this one since he’ll give me less lip.” He bent at the waist to grab Feliciano’s legs and begin dragging him off down the hallway with some effort.

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“Lovino…?” The man’s eyes fluttered open slowly, past the incessant buzzing that clouded his mind at the soft summons. He was met by a pair of violet eyes staring through clean glass lenses.
“Are you awake now?” Matthew asked with a small tilt of his head, standing before him with his hands on his knees.
Lovino tried to move, only to realize with a sharp stab of panic that he was shirtless and tightly bound to a rickety old chair by thin, yet strong, brown ropes. His eyes slid over his environment as he struggled to put together where he was and what he was doing. A nearly empty bedroom adorned with only an old and moth-bitten salmon curtain, dirty off-white walls, a dusty old green carpet, and a duffle bag resting on the floor. The only window was shut tight but offered a view of a packed parking lot some four stories below. He noted the small video camera sitting across the room with its little red ‘recording’ light glowing softly in the brightly-lit space, set atop a small stack of random debris.
“Where the fuck is my brother, you bastard?” He growled through clenched teeth, his mind rapidly clearing.
“In another room with my brother. He’s lucky, you know, Alfred never was too terribly… playful with his people.” Matthew replied with a pleasant smile as he lifted himself to his full height to look down at the bound man before him. “Are you twins?”
Lovino spat at Matthew’s feet and fixed him with an enraged glare. “Fuck you, let me go.”
The blonde stepped around the little clear pool to walk to Lovino’s back, his fingertips ghosting along his warm shoulder. “Are you twins? Brothers? Which one of you is older?”
Lovino clamped his mouth shut, denying him any information. Matthew shook his head and slowly pulled his large knife from the waist of his jeans and pressed it to Lovino’s throat. “Tell me.” His lips brushed lightly against the tip of his ear as he spoke, the small puff of breath that accompanied the words blowing the man’s smooth brown hair ever so slightly.
“We’re twins, Feliciano’s older!” He yelped, swallowing with thick relief when the blade was retracted from his neck. He body quaked in fear for himself and his brother, but he tried to hide it without much success, his skin breaking out in a thin sheen of sweat. Matthew patted him lightly on the shoulder with a soft “Good boy,” as he made his way around to kneel at the duffle bag and pull it open. He took out a small paring knife and turned to look at Lovino.
He walked closer to him on his knees and pulled the man’s index finger out forward, then slipped the sharp point of the knife up into the bed of his nail. “I’m sure you’re very close. Tell me, where are you from? I love your accent.”
“I-Italy.”
Lovino took in a sharp breath as the blade was pushed between nail and flesh until it reached the root, and cried out miserably when Matthew wrenched it up and ripped his nail from his finger. Blood began to bead at the pinkish wound when he tried feebly to yank his hand away, only to be stopped by the tight binds that held him fast. Matthew took another finger and pulled the nail up, maddeningly slow, basking in the broken mixture of English and Italian curses that Lovino shot his way. “Tell me,” he pushed the knife beneath the man’s ring finger, “what do you do for a living?”
“What the fuck does that matter?!” Lovino roared, still struggling against the bonds as he tried to regain some semblance of composure.
“It’s no fun to play with some nameless, faceless person.” He began removing the pinky nail with incredible precision and speed, “I want to know you as a person. It would be rude otherwise. Now, what do you do for a living?”
“I work for the fucking mafia, you piece of shit.” Lovino spat, heart fluttering wildly and breathing labored. A tiny smile crossed his lips at Matthew’s hesitation at the thumb, “I’m pretty fucking important too, bastard, and when they find out what you—” His words melted into a long and shrill scream when the blonde suddenly broke his index finger without a word.
“God fucking damn it, you son of a bitch! You’re some prick the Martello’s hired, aren’t you? I’ll pay you more, whatever they’re giving you I’ll bump you double!” As he pleaded through sobs Matthew stood and smiled down at him.
“This is the only payment I need, and no I don’t work for any crime syndicates.” He dropped the reddened paring knife to the floor and it landed with a dull thud at his feet. He let his eyes travel over the panting man for a moment before he took up his favorite blade, the hunting knife, and thought a bit more. The muffled yet immediately recognizable sound of gunfire made him look up at the door for a moment and raise an eyebrow.
“Already?” He mused to himself quietly before turning his attention back to Lovino. “What did you want to be when you were a kid?”
“W-what the fuck was that?! Where the hell is Feliciano?!” The Italian demanded, ignoring the question.
“That was a gunshot, and he may already be dead. Now, tell me your childhood hopes and dreams.” He pushed the blade against Lovino’s chest and made a swift series of cuts and slices to create a small and slightly hanging strip of flesh. Lovino hissed loudly when Matthew pinched the soft flap between his thumb and index fingers.
“Tell me…” He began to pull slowly down on the piece and was greeted by a moist yet distinctly tearing sound as the skin ripped. “Your hopes…”
His voice shook slightly as his cheeks tinged pink at Lovino’s loud shrieks. The bound man cried out until he burst into a fit of strangled coughs, his foot stomping the floor in some involuntary unconscious attempt to ease, or at least distract from, the pain. Matthew’s eyes widened and a smirk stretched his lips as he put all of his strength into ripping the strip of skin down as far as it would go, breaking it off down toward the diaphragm. He tossed it over his shoulder and it landed with a moist ‘plop’ on the floor. “And dreams, or this’ll only get worse.”
“I don’t fucking kn-know! I… I wanted to be like my brother!” Lovino managed to choke out past the pain screaming through his body, a cold and sickening sensation building in his stomach with each passing moment. His wounded hand was forgotten past the thick haze of agony that burned on his chest and the fear screaming in the forefront of his mind.
“Like him? Why?” The blonde asked as he set to work preparing another strip across the clavicle. “You two can’t be too far apart, you’re twins. Why not a firefighter or something?”
Lovino just clamped his mouth shut and shook his head ‘no,’ the pain he was suffering starting to fade as his over-stimulated nerves began powering down all across his body. His sensations were so dulled that he managed to only allow a low and whimpering groan past his lips when Matthew began slowly tugging his flesh. Only when the tear split his nipple apart did he let out a long and drawn-out groan before his head flopped forward and his consciousness began to fall away.
Matthew bent at the waist and moved his face in close to Lovino’s and tilted his head, “Hey… Hey, wake up.” He slapped him lightly on the head a few times but to no avail. He spun his knife in his hand and brought it down into the bound man’s thigh with a little ‘pop’ as the point broke the skin and dipped into the yielding flesh like butter. If it was not for his shallow breaths, Matthew would have thought him dead to not react to being stabbed. He pushed a handful of curly blonde from his eyes as he waited for Lovino to awaken. Almost a minute passed and nothing but another muffled gunshot from the other room.
He let out an exasperated sigh, grimacing at the Italian’s refusal to awaken as he turned to rummage about in his bag. When he stood up again he held a syringe full with a clear liquid that he stabbed into the unconscious man’s jugular vein. Almost the moment he depressed the plunger Lovino’s eyes shot open and his breathing became ragged, as if he had sprinted around the block a few times.
He let out a long and exasperated-sounding groan from between clenched teeth before he spoke, “What the fuck did you put in me, bastard?!”
Matthew tucked the needle back where it belonged and smiled pleasantly, “A mix of stuff, mostly adrenaline. It’ll keep you awake and alive longer so I won’t get bored. It’s also said to intensify physical sensation.” As he spoke he positioned himself to the side of Lovino’s head. He took the man’s quivering jaw softly in his fingertips and turned Lovino a ways toward him. He told him to hold still and pushed two fingers against the man’s eyelids and pulled them wide open, exposing an exponential amount of white.
“What the fuck are you doing?! Let me go you son of a bitch bastard!” His wet eye rolled this way and that in a sad attempt to escape the encroaching silver of the knife’s glimmering blade. He clenched his teeth as the sharp point pressed lightly against the darkness of his pupil, the tiny moans of fear he exuded steadily climbing to a shrill crescendo as the blade sunk deeper past the iris with a slick and mushy sound. Matthew twisted the knife once, twice, before pulling it out with a scooping motion and removing most of the eye.
It fell, bleeding and uselessly clinging to the thin tendrils of optic nerves and veins, to lay across Lovino’s cheek hideously. Tears leaked from his unaffected ducts in a river of glistening beauty. “Aaagh, fucking fuck! Fucking stop it, please! Per favore, smetta*, I’ll do anything, I’ll pay anything just fucking stop!”
Matthew pressed the tip of his index finger to his own lips and softly made a ‘shush’ sound. He smiled gently and pushed his finger into the dark cave of Lovino’s eye socket and ran it across the slick and slightly bumpy walls without regard to the man’s begging and pleading. He took his finger out and eyed the thin layer of blood that slicked his digits in interest. “I may as well…” He muttered to himself, biting the side of his lip in thought. It would probably be a while until he had a chance like this again, without the fear of his brother barging in and throwing a jealous fit like he always seemed to do when their victim was male.
“Hey… Hey, hey, hey, hey dude what the fuck?!” Lovino yelped when Matthew began unzipping his fly, his pain momentarily forgotten in sheer disbelief.
“It’s embarrassing to say out loud…” The blonde mumbled with a shy smile, so he just pointed to his crotch, then to Lovino’s eye socket.
The Italian could not believe his eyes, eye, and he just sat there for a moment dumbstruck. He felt his stomach turn at the sight of his attacker’s erection, “You’re gonna do what, you bastard?! What the fuck! No! Let me go right now god damn it, let me go, let me go, let me go!” He screamed hoarsely, struggling with renewed vigor against his bonds as Matthew took hold of his head and pushed it down slightly to make for an easier angle.
After a bit of awkward fussing about how it was all going to work, he finally angled the tip of his member to aim directly for the panic-stricken man’s empty eye socket and push slowly inside. Lovino’s terrified whimpers slowly grew into yelps, then screams, and finally to moaning sobs by the time Matthew had forced the entire tip inside. A steady mantra of “What the fuck?” slipped from his lips as his entire body shook in fear, pain, and disbelief. Of all the ways he had pictured himself dying, being skull-fucked was not one of them. He had expected to go down in a hail of gunfire, or be poisoned, or rot away in jail. Something mafia-related and cool, not… whatever this was.
Matthew’s breath caught in his throat, the hot orifice squeezing around him so deliciously, and it took an incredible amount of control not to slam himself as far in as he could. He did not want to kill the man just yet, regardless of how entertaining it may be to watch. His last two (was it three?) had been various stages of dead before he had an opportunity to enjoy them properly and he was in the mood for a living, breathing partner that was not his clingy brother. He ran his fingers softly through Lovino’s sweat-moistened hair and began to rock his hips, eyes fluttering closed and biting his lip softly at the fantastic tightness. With each restrained thrust he pushed in further, centimeter by agonizing centimeter, noting with interest at how Lovino’s pained noises slowly became more of a series of confused grunts and moans. It was to be expected, he supposed, seeing as he had to be past the eye’s cavern and prodding against the man’s frontal lobe at that point.
Lovino made a kind of squeaking noise and his left leg twitched as violently as possible within its binds when Matthew finally found himself half-way inside. “Lovino, how are you doing?” He asked shakily, looking down at the man’s face. He was answered with nothing more than a low and drawn-out groan and noticed a thin line of limpid drool slide from the corner of his mouth. Yeah, that was definitely his brain he was poking. He pulled back to thrust in a little harder, watching with growing excitement at the way the man’s fingers would jerk and spasm as his mind sent jumbled signals throughout his body. Soon he found a comfortable rhythm, sinking himself further into Lovino’s brain with each thrust. The man twitched and cried out at random and disjointed intervals, most of what had made him a person already eradicated by Matthew’s increasingly violent misuse.
Feeling himself close, he pulled out almost entirely before he slammed back in as far as he could. Lovino thrashed a bit, his hands balling into tight fists, and let out a gurgling gasp just as Matthew’s seed flowed into him. He fell limp and dead like a rag doll and the blonde pulled from his eye socket slowly. As he tucked himself back into his pants he noticed the pink-hued mixture of blood and cum slide from the abused hole to dribble down across the man’s cheek and fall to his lap.
“Sorry about that, Lovino, I’d clean you up but I’m kind of in a hurry….” Matthew said with an awkward chuckle, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. He turned the camera off and threw his few items into their bag before he waved a quick ‘good bye’ and hurried from the room. As he closed the door behind himself he saw a small note lying on the floor.
Mattie,

Went to Denny’s
He rolled his eyes and stuffed the paper into his pocket. Of course his brother would decide to go stuff his face while he waited.
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
Some five minutes later, Matthew walked into the nearly deserted restaurant and smiled at his brother, who was in the process of sucking down his third milkshake in a row. He slid into the seat across from him with a little squeak from the cheaply upholstered seat. “How did it go on your end?”
“He made a lot of noise so I had to cut short. You?”
“It was perfect.”

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A/N:
*Please stop
I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia, Rubix Cubes, Converse shoes, Playstation, Fender guitars, the New Yorker (is that even real?), 7-Eleven, Marlboro cigarettes, Twinkies, Pepsi, VHS, Wal-Mart, DVDs, Bluray, NBC, HBO, or Nordstrom’s. This is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to the lives of any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. I make no money from the writing of this fan-made product.
Special thanks to my betas:
Kurogi

XxBlackChaosxX - You’re so useful it kind of hurts. Thanks for your fabulous editing skills!

Bringer of Eternal Darkness

CrypticButterfly
And an extra shout-out to whoever the artist was that drew the picture of the girl with the purple mechanical pencil in her eye for sparking my interest in this type of smut, and to the artist who drew the one of the schoolgirl with the chainsaw in her vagina for cementing my love for the genre. Also to Megpoid GUMI, if it wasn’t for you serenading me every night I don’t know how I could have come so far this fast.
Curious to see how Feliciano fared? Please see the “clean” version for his scene.
I would love to see a review or two!
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