America America America

Alfred ran as fast as his legs could carry him, and for the umpteenth time, cursed his inability to fly.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit,” he cursed through his panting, picking up his speed at the sound of an explosion in the distance. “Shit. I need to get some transportation or something.”

Finally, he arrived at the old, abandoned warehouse building the smoke was rising from, and made quick work of the locked front door by ripping it off its hinges. He leapt up the steps three at a time, and kicked in the first door he came across.

“STOP RIGHT THERE!”

“About bloody time,” Arthur snapped as best as he could, gripping the hand that was trying to choke him with all his might. “Where the hell were you?!”

Alfred blushed under his mask and rushed to his teammate’s aid. “I got held up,” he explained sheepishly, grabbing the villain by the back of his shirt and easily tossing him into the far wall.

Arthur fell to the ground, gasping to get back the air he had lost, and massaging his bruising neck tenderly. “Held up? What were you doing? Saving a cat out of a tree?” Alfred’s heavy silence told him all he needed to know, and with a piercing glare and a muttered “Fucking Christ…” under his breath, he returned his attention back to the criminal.

Using his telekinetic powers, he rendered the man completely immobile as Alfred tied him up and hauled him over his shoulders. Arthur put out the flames that had been lit in the fight, and put back every misplaced item, fixing windows and repairing broken floorboards. Alfred always thought this kind of stuff was pointless, but Arthur hated leaving a mess.

Finally, they left the warehouse together, walking across town to drop today’s catch off at the jail.

“We really should look into getting a car, or motorcycle or something,” Alfred said suddenly. Adjusting the prisoner on his shoulder to a more comfortable position.

Arthur scoffed. “Unless you plan to pay the gas for the thing, I’m not interested.”

“But you can fly and stuff!” he whined. Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Stop saving cats while I’m getting my arse beat to a pulp, and we’ll talk.”