It was Al's turn to gather "ingredients" for Oliver's new cupcake recipe. Cupcakes. He can't stand the sugary stuff himself, there's milk, and eggs in the mixture. It just wouldn't do for a strict vegan.

'At least Ollie isn't asking for any animals' he thought to himself as he grabbed the keys for his truck. Human Crooks he would collect willingly, and today he had a bone to pick with a fellow who hadn't paid him back. But adorable, innocent animals? That would be too cruel. Oliver had only asked for human blood, but Alfred was already planning on getting his revenge anyways.

Besides, what was he supposed to do? Set up a donor van for the good of twisted bakeries? Haha.. No.

Once he pulled up at the said human's house, he pulled out his bat from the back seat and snuck to the back door. The doors were unlocked, what a surprise. He wouldn't have to bust a lock this time. He heard someone speak, but the second voice was too distant to make out. The young man put his bat against the wall and cuffed his ear to the wood. The criminal was on the phone with someone. Al listened closely, as the conversation was on speaker. A few seconds later, he got the gist of the call. Planning to flee the town, eh? Too late.

Right as he turned to pick up his bat again, the door clicked open. The victim in question's eyes went wide as he recognized the armed man.

Al gave his coined intimidating smirk. "Six months. That was our deal. And how long has it been now?" he said with feigned curiosity. The man hesitantly murmured that it had been over a year. "Bingo. Got the cash, Mac?"

Al cornered two goons into a dead end alley. Despite the fact that Al had the upper hand, the duo continued to insult him. All of the insults seemed petty, until he had his bat ready for impact. "Haha, bet you won't put a dent on our heads." The crook smirked. "So you're going to eat us when it's all over, huh? Dunk us in lard?" That one bothered Al a bit to be honest. But he faked a grin and retorted "Nah, I don't eat meat."

Al drove home, three jerks in the backseat. He entered the house to find Matt sprawled out on the couch who greeted him with a smirk. "Two and a half hours, Al? It shouldn't take THAT long to take three targets down." The Red-eyed American clenched his teeth, face burning with anger. Matt just chuckled. "What a dumba-"

Oliver who was in the kitchen stopped him with a nasty glare, his eyes bouncing from Matt, to the Swear Jar on top of the fridge. Matt sighed, and reached for the TV remote. Allen tossed the kills in the basement and began to jog up stairs. Al could have sworn he heard Matt mutter insults about 'Stupid, Fat, Americans.' He just shook his head.

His room was just as he'd left it. Posters of the American flag, a dart board covered with pictures he found of his many war enemies. He shivered just looking at them, and leaped onto his Eagle bed sheets. An hour later he heard his name being called from downstairs. He hurried down, not wanting to be yelled at further.

Francis was sitting dazed in his chair lighting up a smoke, expressionless as always. Oliver was humming a somewhat familiar tune. Matt, who had just set the table sat, waiting for the others to join him.

Everyone dug in right away. The other three boys wouldn't show it, but they loved their brother's cooking. Oliver knew, however, and gave a delighted smile. He loved watching his family eat. Not in a creepy way of course, but there were times in the past where there hadn't always been enough food for them.

Oliver had to contain his shiver at the thought, and put a fork full of potatoes in his mouth. He would never forget these times, no matter how hard he tried.

He loved his family. He'd make and sell cupcakes forever if it meant they were safe.