A/N: We're alive! And we're back with a new story~ We hope you enjoy it, and please Review! Rated T for violence (mostly) ^^
The bright morning sun rose just over the horizon; the sound of birds chirping drifted through an open window, and a gust of wind lightly scattered papers across a wooden desk. Lounging on the chair with feet propped up on the desk was a tall man, muscular but not bulging—lean was his stature; with dark red hair and only lightly tanned skin. A newspaper covered his closed emerald eyes while his head reclined on the back of the chair. At peace he was…well, for a moment at least.
If one watched carefully, they could see his fingers counting down the seconds before the door to the office slammed open. An angry blonde came storming in, his bushy brows bent downwards in extreme annoyance as he threw down a file onto the desk. "You call this 'investigated thoroughly?'" he yelled, forest green eyes flickering with rage. "This is the most shoddily-put-together-report I've ever seen!"
The older man lifted a brow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Really, Kirkland? That's the same report ye gave me yesterday." He yawned, "Only, I've rewritten a neater copy since then."
Allistor Scott pulled the newspaper from his face, his smirk now clearly visible to his Senior Officer, Arthur Kirkland. Not that the blonde needed to see his face to know he was smirking—he could feel it. He stood straight, arms crossing over his chest with no lack of stubbornness.
"Well, I'm only reminding you how terrible it was. A Chief such as you should do better the first time!"
A breathy laugh passed Allistor's lips, quite amused at the blonde's rant. "And ye? How many of your reports have been perfect the first time?" He leaned back again, seeming quite content with himself. "Besides, I wrote it that way to see if ye were paying attention. I could have written it perfectly if I wanted to, the first time."
His eyes narrowing, Arthur pointed at a stack of files, about a hand off the desk. "And I suppose you did the exact same thing to 'test' me with these?"
"Those are perfectly written."
Obviously not believing the detective, he picked them up and flipped through them. "Huh, guess you're right." He grunted, "Then again, you probably had Beilschmidt write them."
Allistor said nothing, only lighting a cigarette and resting it on his lips with a satisfying intake of the tobacco. Arthur curled his lips in disgust before turning on his heel to exit the room, but he was stopped by an object hitting the back of his head. He turned, eye twitching at the once tightly-rolled newspaper on the floor while the Scotsman walked past.
"There's our next case," said Allistor as he pulled his overcoat from the coatrack and his black gloves from the pocket. "Don't slow everyone down now, rookie. Everyone out there is already ready to go." He then pointed as he opened the door, where a smirking silver-haired man and a younger smiling brunette stood with scarves wrapped around their necks.
"Come on Arthur, gotta show Feli here the ropes," the other senior officer cackled. "Being rude to the Chief isn't the most awesome way to train new recruits, y'know."
"Sod off," came the short reply as the newspaper was picked up off the ground, Arthur's teeth grinding at being called a rookie. There were so many things he could do to get the man removed from his place as chief, but every time he tried all the evidence that he knew existed disappeared.
His musings of the hatred he held for the ginger ended rather abruptly as he looked down at the headline, his blood running a degree colder. "They don't really think it's him again?" He called to Allistor.
The man turned, eyes dark as an ember fell from the cigarette between his teeth. "We can only hope that this scene proves otherwise," he growled, all joking set aside as Arthur looked back down at the news article.
"Off we go."
The three others followed him through the doors, where carriages, small food markets, and citizen's walking the streets came into view under the bright sun. It was busy this time of day, people bustling to work and children running off to school. Yet in the crookest corners of the city dwelt the twisted, insane, and very intelligent criminals. One could argue that the one they were tailing, the one they'd been after for more than a year, was smarter than the investigators themselves.
There were two detective agencies here in the city; both most often competing to win the jurisdiction of the case. At times, it was first come first serve (if one was to word it that way.) But a lot of the time the police would call one of them and different teams would take on the case. Though it was during cases like this one, when the entire city was in danger, that they butted heads the most. So no one was surprised, not even the police on standby, when both arrived simultaneously.
"Oi!" shouted Matthias, "What're you doin' here? This is our investigation."
Allistor dropped his cigarette on the ground and stepped on it as he drew closer to his blonde rival. "Oi? You bloomin' idiot, we were here first!"
"My foot was on the scene first, so scurry off and find some low-life break-in that your team can handle," replied the tall, smirking man.
"Stay out of it!" Both of the chiefs snapped at the police officer.
Rolling his eyes, Arthur stepped forward. "What is it, sir?" he asked quietly, taking the offered notepad that held the officer's notes.
With eyes filled with disgust at the crime in his district, the he opened the door to the warehouse. "I think you'll both have plenty to work on, without ever getting in the others way."
"That is arguable," mumbled Arthur. He looked back to the two shouting superiors before following the man inside. He'd been on the force for about seven years, so he knew his way pretty well around investigations. Better, he would say, than that stupid blockhead of a chie—
Before he could continue his confident stream of thought, he was suddenly pushed to the side and onto the floor. The notepad was gone, and when he looked up, the Chief was reading over it with his back turned towards the scene, and Matthias Lavsen by his side with his arms crossed over his chest.
With eyes darkening as they swept the room, the Dane scowled, "This is sick."
"It's him, Matthias," was the cold reply from Arthur's chief. "Left the same calling signs and everything, too perfect to be a copycat."
The three eldest members of the forces exchanged looks as the other four members moved carefully around the four dead bodies hanging from the ceiling. "It's my case Allistor, he was my target long before you joined the force."
The redhead sneered, turning away to do his own examination, "Ye have no cause to pursue it besides records, I do." Arthur quirked a brow as he followed his chief, ignoring the now familiar smell of rotting flesh.
"Four women, judging from the decomposition, the first had been killed six months ago and the latest was last night," reported Gilbert as they made their way over. "And Vargas is out back throwing up, out of the public eye though—so unaweseome."
Allistor rubbed the back of his head, his expression blank though his eyes were closed. "I need a drink," he breathed out roughly. "Anyway, after the rookie gets done spilling his guts, search around the area for any clues. Arthur and I will take the scene for now."
With that, everyone split off to their given assignments. Arthur dismissed his badgering thoughts for now, he'd sift through them later. By no means had the other team given up their chance for jurisdiction. But in the end, they were called in for a different case across town and left.
The office was silent except for the flicking sound of papers being flipped through and the soft voices of the new recruit and his mentor as the latter attempted to teach the young man how to log facts and clues for easy access.
Arthur sat at his desk, looking through the missing people reports. According to Allistor, and hating the fact the man knew more on an old case then he did, the method of operation for the man they were looking for was kidnap, kill immediately, and store until he had the number of victims he wanted. So the date of the bodies' deaths was the best time to look for disappearances.
With the young females, it was a surprise there wasn't a more, violent method to kill them, but it was always the same cut along the throat and carving out of the flesh above the heart and forehead. Nothing else was touched, nothing else was done, as if it was a ritual known only to the man...
Arthur shivered slightly, a cold chill going down his back. He only had a little brother, no sisters or loves to worry about, but for the poor souls they'd have to deliver the news too...
"Bonnefoy." His head came up from the files, eyes burning with a heavy anger at the name from his Chief's lips before he realized the man was on the phone. "Ay, this is Scotty. I need ye to get down here, we'll be needin' yer talents." After a few minutes of further silence from him, a small scowl appeared on his lips, matching the one Arthur had been wearing since the conversation had started. "Nae, I can't wait till morn idiot, this needs to be done today." Short, annoyed words could be heard from the other end then. "Thanks, see ye tomorrow."
He looked up, eyes questioning at the accusing look in the senior officer's eyes, "What?"
"Why'd you call that blasted frog?" Arthur growled. "All he's likely to do is fawn over the skulls of those girls."
"Yeah, and that's exactly what I want him to do. What's yer problem with the artist?"
Arthur crinkled his nose and turned it up high. "He's a lecher; with both men and women. Either way, guess it doesn't matter if it helps the case." Francis Bonnefoy was an artist who traveled around helping with investigations at time, but that didn't change the fact that he was a pervert, no matter how one looked it.
"Glad ye got yer head straight, then," said Allistor. He looked around his office, pleased at the fact that everyone was on task. Well, besides Arthur over here. He looked to the clock, and then sighed at the time as he lit a cigarette to set on his lips. "Alright, everyone can go home. Be back bright and early tomorrow!" He pulled his overcoat back over his shoulders before turning his gaze to a frowning Arthur. "Ye too, ye nippet fool."
"Just because you're a higher rank thank me, doesn't mean you can insult me whenever you want, you bloody idiot!"
Allistor walked over to him, hands in his pockets and cigarette polluting the air with smoke.
"Doesn't it?" He lifted his leg and set his foot on Arthur's chair. The blonde looked up to him, eyes wide as Allistor pushed him back rolling into the wall.
Gilbert cackled, pulling on his jacket as Feliciano covered his mouth in shock. "Just ignore them Feli, they'll be like this until the case ends, and after that too. It's how our awesome team works. Awesome because I'm in it, of course!"
While he guided the younger man out with past stories of the fights that he had witnessed since the Scot had taken the position, Arthur straighten his chair, pushing his ruffled hair back down. "What exactly was the purpose of that you bloody barbarian?" He snapped, his large eyebrows pushed down in disbelief.
"Ta get ye fired up o'course. Ye work better mad," came the smart reply. "And ye might want to get those brows checked out, they might not be healthy." With a mocking salute to the fuming man, Allistor grinned, "I'm off to have a pint and see what information I can get from the other team. Don't go out chasing faeries again, I won't be around ta help yer sorry hide."
The blonde's faced reddened, and seemingly satisfied with his response, Allistor turned on his heel and left the agency. Arthur grumbled to himself, standing straight with dignity. He worked better when he was mad? Well then, he must be great at the job because there wasn't a moment that passed by where he wasn't furious at the guy.
"Later," he said, sending a wave to his coworkers. So what if he talked to faeries? They were better company than that red head. He let an exasperated sigh pass his lips. Well, he loved his job, so he wasn't going to let him ruin that. Why was he even thinking about him in the first place? Work was over, damn it!
He needed to get home and make sure his brother was back at the house when the curfew he'd assigned the teenager was met. Why was he such a rebel when the two boys he ran around with behaved themselves perfectly?
His eyes narrowed, thoughts entering his mind in rapid succession. Alfred, the blue-eyed menace, had been complaining for weeks that the girl he copied off of at the school (Arthur did not approve at all) had been missing for a while now. She was an orphan, easy picking off the street. If Alfred knew her, he might be able to ID one of the bodies. If he saw her on the night of her disappearance, he could easily be linked to her. He was also social, could know a lot of other girls and-
What was he thinking? Was he supposing his brother could have done it? He shook his head violently, the guy was rebellious, not a murderer. The thought of so many people dying in his town just had him on edge. Besides, during the last case Alfred had hardly gone out of Arthur's sight at all, going through a phase of wanting to follow in his brother's footsteps. Until he saw the dead bodies, but to Arthur's mind, that had been all the better. It was bad enough he put himself in a job that worked so close to the underworld, Alfred didn't need to as well.
The git was too squeamish anyway, he'd never be able to kill.
He pulled his coat tighter around himself, looking up just in time to see through the window of a pub with many of the usual patrons inside. Out of curiosity, he searched the pub for a familiar face. Sure enough, Allistor was sitting at a stool with a cigar in one hand and a beer in the other. Tch, typical. He then looked to the person sitting beside him, gasping at the tall man with short, wild blond hair and blue eyes.
His own eyes narrowed and he tip-toed closer to the window. What the devil…they hated each other! His brows quirked high when Allistor threw his head back in laughter while the blonde downed a shot of what appeared to be bourbon or whiskey.
What the hell!
Well, what did he know about the guy anyway? Yeah…he was a good detective—he got the job done and done well (though he hated admitting it.) But, what did he know about him? He was Scottish, he lived…somewhere, no he lived in the East part of the city. Right? And…he…he…was…
Arthur stuffed his hands in his pockets with a grunt. Who cares? It's not my business anyway. With that thought, Arthur Kirkland continued on his way home under the darkening sky; though a burning sensation in his chest disrupted the usual peacefulness of the stroll.
"Ha! You know, I could've solved most of your cases in half the time you did!"
Allistor threw back his head and laughed, causing his fellow chief to frown mockingly at him as he downed his shot. "As if Matthias, ye sleep on all of ye cases! It's ye assistants who solve them."
An insulted look came over the man's face. "That is a lie! When have you once caught me asleep on the job?"
"Ye mean besides the tavern burning?"
"The break-in at Williams."
"That's twice more than I."
The last sentence seemed distracted though, for Allistor could swear he had felt a familiar, heated gaze from the window of the bar, but as he stared out at the night he saw nothing. "What you see?"
Shaking his head, he turned back, taking the shot glass from his companion. "Nothing, what did ye help find at today's scene?"
On the job they could be the bitterest enemies to finish the case, but when it came to their own interests and protecting the town, the two men were as thick as thieves. And that friendship would be what they needed to connect all the clues.
Allistor gulped down a drink of beer, sighing as he set the cigar back on his lips. Matthias studied the Scot for a long moment before calling to the bartender for another shot. It was slid down within seconds, and he picked it up between with his fingers. He gazed into the bronze alcohol, and then back to Allistor.
"Pretty much the same things as you," said Matthias. He dipped his head back, downing another. "I don't know what to think of it...I've never seen a criminal like this one."
Allistor gazed at his cigar before blowing out a puff of smoke. "Yeah well, all that matters is that we catch him and be done with it."
A brisk nod was the response. "Well, here's to the death of that man." The two rims chimed softly together before they downed them. "Now," He grinned, "Let's compare rookies."
We are so sorry we haven't updated in forever! We've been working since October thirty-first on an original project but now that that's finished we can return to working on this!
We decided to try something from the detective's point of view, and we also wanted it to be a Hetalia story. So we picked two of our favorite couples from it and went from there! XD
Please review and forgive us for such a long delay on our updates!