Newflash: We Have a Hostage Situation... [USUK Secret Santa, Part 1 of 2]
Title: Newsflash: We Have a Hostage Situation (ff.net link)
Author: me, starfoxx322
Recipient: sweet_tard
Genre: Somewhere between Romance/drama/action,
Ratings/warnings: PG for mentions of violence
Summary: "An AU where Alfred is an actual superhero, and like, rescues Arthur all damsel-in-distress style." Arthur is the editor of a New York City newspaper who is forced to go out on assignment when his star reporter won't answer his phone. There was no way he could have anticipated the first page news story that would unfold.
Notes: Many thanks to my beloved daughter for whipping my wordiness and utter lack of grammar and spelling skills into shape. Also, let it be known that I cannot think of a good superhero/villain name to save my life. I apologize to the world for my failure.
Any name fails aside, I hope you enjoy it, sweet_tard! It's been really fun to write so far and I'm excited to finish~ X3
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Bye Artie! I’m headin’ out for lunch, catch you later!”
Arthur Kirkland looked up from the article he was editing just in time to see to see his star reporter dash past his office and towards the elevator.
“Alfred, come back here this instant! You still have work to do!”
Arthur jumped out of his chair and prepared to pursue him, but it was too late. By the time Arthur got out of his office, Alfred was waving at him from behind closing elevator doors. There was nothing left to do but sigh and go back to his own job. As he sat down in his extremely comfortable leather chair, he checked the clock on the wall. Twenty minutes before Alfred’s lunch break was scheduled to start. How typical. Ever since he had hired Alfred over a year ago, the American had been a complete slack-off. He was always dashing off in the middle of the workday for seemingly no reason, besides getting a longer break for lunch.
He was literally forced to admit that Alfred was the best reporter he had. And even if he had not lost a drunken bet at the last office New Year’s party (a bet that resulted in the single most embarrassing “official” memo of his life so far,) he could acknowledge that the young reporter had a talent for headline news. Al was great at his job. Arthur simultaneously loved and hated the idea of firing him, because Arthur also simultaneously loved and hated Al. Recently, however, his feelings of love seemed to be overwhelming the hate at every turn. Even the stupidest of actions were somehow endearing when Alfred was the one performing them. The reporter was impossible to stay mad at, which was very problematic for his editor. It would have been much easier for Arthur if he could just hate, or at least dislike Al completely. Instead, he got a jumbled up mix of emotions that left him with a headache.
He began picking his way through Feliciano Vargas’s weekly cooking column, carefully editing out all the nonsense words and superfluous descriptions of the godly aspects of pasta. He had made good headway into the article when a general sort of chaos erupted outside his office door. Arthur looked up from his computer screen just in time to see one of his photographers, Elizabeta Héderváry, burst through the door, camera in hand.
“The Parisian just robbed the Metropolitan Art Museum down the street and Captain Freedom just showed up to stop him!”
Arthur immediately sprang into action. He simultaneously saved what he had on Feli’s article, grabbed his phone to call Alfred, and barked out instructions to Elizabeta. Captain Freedom was New York City’s hottest super hero at the moment. Despite the fact that he was a relatively new super, The Captain had immediately gained popularity with his dashing smile and boyish attitude. In Arthur’s opinion, Captain Freedom’s powers of super strength and the ability to fly weren’t very original and overall he was like something out of an old comic book.
However, since the Captain was so popular, Arthur felt obliged to keep at least somewhat up to date with the hero’s doings. He told himself it was so he could report on the Captain more effectively. There was no way he was like the general population, completely hooked on the hero’s every move. Indeed, any newspaper worth its salt had a reporter on call at every hour of the day in case Captain Freedom appeared. Unfortunately for Arthur, his Captain Freedom reporter was out at lunch, and he wasn’t answering his phone.
“Captain Freedom is up at the Metro Art Museum and since you’re too busy slacking off to do your damned job, I’m off to do it for you. See you when I get back from covering for your incompetent arse,” he told Alfred’s voice mail curtly before slamming the phone down onto the receiver. He could already feel the pain gathering behind his temples, but there was no time to think about that. He only paused to pick up his cell phone and a small notebook before dashing out the door to catch his story.
On the elevator ride down, he called Elizabeta to make sure she, as well, was on her way to Capital Bank and to inform her that on account of Alfred being a moron, Arthur would be the on-scene reporter. Fortunately, Capital Bank was just a few blocks to the east of the building where he worked. By the time Arthur got there, he had not missed anything that he couldn’t learn from a witness interview. Nevertheless, he wasted no time in elbowing his way to the front of the crowd.
“Where are they?” Arthur muttered to himself as he scanned the scene. There was no doubt that the Captain and The Parisian had been here. The front of the bank was in complete ruins and it looked like The Parisian had been using his trade mark grenades quite generously. Some large pieces of debris were scattered in a way that implied Captain Freedom had been throwing them around.
He was contemplating ducking past the police to see if the fight had moved to the inside of the bank when something fell from the sky at lightning-fast speed, hitting the ground with an earth-shaking crash. Arthur grabbed the barrier to steady himself, looking up just in time to see Captain Freedom pick himself up and take to the air again. Not two seconds later, The Parisian swooped down, balancing on his hovercraft with practiced ease. The two clashed in midair, The Parisian using his sword to attack while Captain Freedom relied on his fists.
If there was ever a villain Arthur hated, it had to be the famous art thief, The Parisian. Naturally, most of the supervillains annoyed him, but The Parisian was something of a special case. For one, he was so ambiguously French that it made Arthur want to punch something. Arthur had been born and raised in Britain, and his very stereotypical English father had instilled a strong dislike of all things French in his son. After living in America, land of the free and culturally diverse, Arthur had come to tolerate small amounts of Frenchness, but The Parisian was just too much for him to handle. The villain was lewd, over the top, dramatic, flashy, annoying, his powers messed with people’s emotions, and no one knew the first thing about his past, his motivations, or anything else about him, really. Arthur could not wait for the day that Captain Freedom or someone-anyone-got rid of him once and for all.
It didn’t seem like today would be that day though. The Parisian was cleverly playing on Captain Freedom’s weaknesses-specifically, the Captain’s enormous hero complex. In typical comic book fashion, the Captain felt a huge responsibility for the safety of the general public. Arthur had a sneaking suspicion that the fight would have been over long ago if it weren’t for the crowd of onlookers. The Frenchman started lobbing bombs at the pedestrians every time the American gained too much of an advantage. Captain Freedom would have to go out of his way to deflect the explosives, and The Parisian would attack at the first available opening. The Captain would have to defend himself and he’d turn his attention back to their fight until The Parisian felt he was losing. The lousy Frenchman would begin to attack the crowd again, and the cycle would start over.
Arthur watched from the sidelines, silently cheering Captain Freedom on. Even though he thought the Captain could be a bit foolish and naïve, he was very fond of the super, who reminded him of Alfred in a way that was almost uncanny at times. They way they talked, acted, and even held themselves was eerily similar. There were days when Arthur would watch interviews with the hero, think back to the Superman comics Al had forced him to read, and wonder… But then he would decide that it was all too obvious and Alfred simply couldn’t be Captain Freedom, because things like that didn’t just happen in real life. His secret crush was not a superhero in any way, and Arthur knew he ought to be ashamed of himself for fantasizing about Alfred in such a way. Regardless, he often felt himself becoming irrationally worried about the super when he heard about the Captain’s latest death defying escapade.
Now, for instance, he felt anxious watching the Captain do battle with the French villain. Just one small misstep and it would be over for him. Arthur watched anxiously as The Parisian made a swipe at his opponent. The Captain flew back just in time to dodge, but a strong breeze or something of the sort caught him off guard, making him lose his balance. Arthur watched with wide eyes as the Frenchman darted in to deliver the final blow.
“Look out!”
Arthur wasn’t sure who cried out, but Captain Freedom’s attention was directed towards the crowd. For a moment, it seemed as if the hero was looking right at him. Then the crowd surged forward and he was swept off his feet. The police barrier toppled over and Arthur went with it, his notes flying out of his hands. He hit the ground hard, but immediately scrambled up after his notebook and the precious notes recorded in it. The book was on the ground not far in front of him, but before he could grab onto it, someone picked him up roughly and held something metallic and cold to his throat.
“Stop right there, mon ami, or this poor man will pay the price.”
Arthur stiffened as he assessed the situation. He was being held (uncomfortably close!) by The Parisian, who was holding a sword to his throat. Captain Freedom had landed a few yards in front of them and was glaring at the villain with all his might. Arthur was being held hostage, by the villain he despised the most. It would make a wonderful story, Arthur found himself musing wryly. It would certainly be nice if he lived to report it.
TBC...
Author: me, starfoxx322
Recipient: sweet_tard
Genre: Somewhere between Romance/drama/action,
Ratings/warnings: PG for mentions of violence
Summary: "An AU where Alfred is an actual superhero, and like, rescues Arthur all damsel-in-distress style." Arthur is the editor of a New York City newspaper who is forced to go out on assignment when his star reporter won't answer his phone. There was no way he could have anticipated the first page news story that would unfold.
Notes: Many thanks to my beloved daughter for whipping my wordiness and utter lack of grammar and spelling skills into shape. Also, let it be known that I cannot think of a good superhero/villain name to save my life. I apologize to the world for my failure.
Any name fails aside, I hope you enjoy it, sweet_tard! It's been really fun to write so far and I'm excited to finish~ X3
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Bye Artie! I’m headin’ out for lunch, catch you later!”
Arthur Kirkland looked up from the article he was editing just in time to see to see his star reporter dash past his office and towards the elevator.
“Alfred, come back here this instant! You still have work to do!”
Arthur jumped out of his chair and prepared to pursue him, but it was too late. By the time Arthur got out of his office, Alfred was waving at him from behind closing elevator doors. There was nothing left to do but sigh and go back to his own job. As he sat down in his extremely comfortable leather chair, he checked the clock on the wall. Twenty minutes before Alfred’s lunch break was scheduled to start. How typical. Ever since he had hired Alfred over a year ago, the American had been a complete slack-off. He was always dashing off in the middle of the workday for seemingly no reason, besides getting a longer break for lunch.
He was literally forced to admit that Alfred was the best reporter he had. And even if he had not lost a drunken bet at the last office New Year’s party (a bet that resulted in the single most embarrassing “official” memo of his life so far,) he could acknowledge that the young reporter had a talent for headline news. Al was great at his job. Arthur simultaneously loved and hated the idea of firing him, because Arthur also simultaneously loved and hated Al. Recently, however, his feelings of love seemed to be overwhelming the hate at every turn. Even the stupidest of actions were somehow endearing when Alfred was the one performing them. The reporter was impossible to stay mad at, which was very problematic for his editor. It would have been much easier for Arthur if he could just hate, or at least dislike Al completely. Instead, he got a jumbled up mix of emotions that left him with a headache.
He began picking his way through Feliciano Vargas’s weekly cooking column, carefully editing out all the nonsense words and superfluous descriptions of the godly aspects of pasta. He had made good headway into the article when a general sort of chaos erupted outside his office door. Arthur looked up from his computer screen just in time to see one of his photographers, Elizabeta Héderváry, burst through the door, camera in hand.
“The Parisian just robbed the Metropolitan Art Museum down the street and Captain Freedom just showed up to stop him!”
Arthur immediately sprang into action. He simultaneously saved what he had on Feli’s article, grabbed his phone to call Alfred, and barked out instructions to Elizabeta. Captain Freedom was New York City’s hottest super hero at the moment. Despite the fact that he was a relatively new super, The Captain had immediately gained popularity with his dashing smile and boyish attitude. In Arthur’s opinion, Captain Freedom’s powers of super strength and the ability to fly weren’t very original and overall he was like something out of an old comic book.
However, since the Captain was so popular, Arthur felt obliged to keep at least somewhat up to date with the hero’s doings. He told himself it was so he could report on the Captain more effectively. There was no way he was like the general population, completely hooked on the hero’s every move. Indeed, any newspaper worth its salt had a reporter on call at every hour of the day in case Captain Freedom appeared. Unfortunately for Arthur, his Captain Freedom reporter was out at lunch, and he wasn’t answering his phone.
“Captain Freedom is up at the Metro Art Museum and since you’re too busy slacking off to do your damned job, I’m off to do it for you. See you when I get back from covering for your incompetent arse,” he told Alfred’s voice mail curtly before slamming the phone down onto the receiver. He could already feel the pain gathering behind his temples, but there was no time to think about that. He only paused to pick up his cell phone and a small notebook before dashing out the door to catch his story.
On the elevator ride down, he called Elizabeta to make sure she, as well, was on her way to Capital Bank and to inform her that on account of Alfred being a moron, Arthur would be the on-scene reporter. Fortunately, Capital Bank was just a few blocks to the east of the building where he worked. By the time Arthur got there, he had not missed anything that he couldn’t learn from a witness interview. Nevertheless, he wasted no time in elbowing his way to the front of the crowd.
“Where are they?” Arthur muttered to himself as he scanned the scene. There was no doubt that the Captain and The Parisian had been here. The front of the bank was in complete ruins and it looked like The Parisian had been using his trade mark grenades quite generously. Some large pieces of debris were scattered in a way that implied Captain Freedom had been throwing them around.
He was contemplating ducking past the police to see if the fight had moved to the inside of the bank when something fell from the sky at lightning-fast speed, hitting the ground with an earth-shaking crash. Arthur grabbed the barrier to steady himself, looking up just in time to see Captain Freedom pick himself up and take to the air again. Not two seconds later, The Parisian swooped down, balancing on his hovercraft with practiced ease. The two clashed in midair, The Parisian using his sword to attack while Captain Freedom relied on his fists.
If there was ever a villain Arthur hated, it had to be the famous art thief, The Parisian. Naturally, most of the supervillains annoyed him, but The Parisian was something of a special case. For one, he was so ambiguously French that it made Arthur want to punch something. Arthur had been born and raised in Britain, and his very stereotypical English father had instilled a strong dislike of all things French in his son. After living in America, land of the free and culturally diverse, Arthur had come to tolerate small amounts of Frenchness, but The Parisian was just too much for him to handle. The villain was lewd, over the top, dramatic, flashy, annoying, his powers messed with people’s emotions, and no one knew the first thing about his past, his motivations, or anything else about him, really. Arthur could not wait for the day that Captain Freedom or someone-anyone-got rid of him once and for all.
It didn’t seem like today would be that day though. The Parisian was cleverly playing on Captain Freedom’s weaknesses-specifically, the Captain’s enormous hero complex. In typical comic book fashion, the Captain felt a huge responsibility for the safety of the general public. Arthur had a sneaking suspicion that the fight would have been over long ago if it weren’t for the crowd of onlookers. The Frenchman started lobbing bombs at the pedestrians every time the American gained too much of an advantage. Captain Freedom would have to go out of his way to deflect the explosives, and The Parisian would attack at the first available opening. The Captain would have to defend himself and he’d turn his attention back to their fight until The Parisian felt he was losing. The lousy Frenchman would begin to attack the crowd again, and the cycle would start over.
Arthur watched from the sidelines, silently cheering Captain Freedom on. Even though he thought the Captain could be a bit foolish and naïve, he was very fond of the super, who reminded him of Alfred in a way that was almost uncanny at times. They way they talked, acted, and even held themselves was eerily similar. There were days when Arthur would watch interviews with the hero, think back to the Superman comics Al had forced him to read, and wonder… But then he would decide that it was all too obvious and Alfred simply couldn’t be Captain Freedom, because things like that didn’t just happen in real life. His secret crush was not a superhero in any way, and Arthur knew he ought to be ashamed of himself for fantasizing about Alfred in such a way. Regardless, he often felt himself becoming irrationally worried about the super when he heard about the Captain’s latest death defying escapade.
Now, for instance, he felt anxious watching the Captain do battle with the French villain. Just one small misstep and it would be over for him. Arthur watched anxiously as The Parisian made a swipe at his opponent. The Captain flew back just in time to dodge, but a strong breeze or something of the sort caught him off guard, making him lose his balance. Arthur watched with wide eyes as the Frenchman darted in to deliver the final blow.
“Look out!”
Arthur wasn’t sure who cried out, but Captain Freedom’s attention was directed towards the crowd. For a moment, it seemed as if the hero was looking right at him. Then the crowd surged forward and he was swept off his feet. The police barrier toppled over and Arthur went with it, his notes flying out of his hands. He hit the ground hard, but immediately scrambled up after his notebook and the precious notes recorded in it. The book was on the ground not far in front of him, but before he could grab onto it, someone picked him up roughly and held something metallic and cold to his throat.
“Stop right there, mon ami, or this poor man will pay the price.”
Arthur stiffened as he assessed the situation. He was being held (uncomfortably close!) by The Parisian, who was holding a sword to his throat. Captain Freedom had landed a few yards in front of them and was glaring at the villain with all his might. Arthur was being held hostage, by the villain he despised the most. It would make a wonderful story, Arthur found himself musing wryly. It would certainly be nice if he lived to report it.
TBC...