Alfred was the quietest he had ever been as he walked slowly along the wall. He was holding a small pistol in his hand and was ready to shoot if necessary. The hallway was very silent except for his breathing that he couldn't control as much as he wanted to. He could feel his heart beat fast in his chest, fuelled with adrenaline. He might not get out of this one alive. Suddenly he heard some footsteps behind him and he jumped in surprise. He quickly turned around and was met with a giant Russian assassin who was suddenly running towards him, knife in hand.

"Die you filthy commie-bastard!" Screamed the American spy as he shot his pistol, aiming for the Russian's head. It was a perfect shot and blood and brain pieces exploded every where. It was disgusting which meant that Alfred couldn't stop laughing in glee.

"Lets kick some more Russian ass!" He exclaimed as he continued to walk towards the control room where there was a bomb waiting to be taken care of. This time, however, he ran since his last kill must have alerted someone. A pistol was a very noisy weapon. It was sad that he had lost his knife earlier in the game...

"Alfred! What the bloody hell do you think you are doing? Stop playing! We have some work to do!" Screamed a voice in the background.

The American was momentarily distracted and turned around, seeing his boss looking at him, his face red with anger. When he looked back at the screen he was disappointed to see that he was killed by one of those commies during the two seconds he wasn't looking.

"Ah, dude! You made me lose! Against Russians!" He complained in a whiny voice.

"Why don't you get your arse off the couch and do something useful! You are working for the Evil industries now and this means that when I order you to do something, you do it!" If it was possible, Arthur was screaming even louder than before. I'm sure he could be in the "World Guinness" book just for his screaming, usefully thought the American.

"Ah, I'm sorry man. What did I forget to do this time?"

"You forgot to bring me tea," said a still angry, but no longer screaming, Arthur.

"I'll be right on it sir! Earl Grey, no milk, no sugar, as usual?" Complied the young man, although he was a bit angry himself. He was a trainee, damn it! Not a lackey! He was supposed to learn how to be an agent of evil, not how to make tea. Who drinks tea anymore anyway?

"No. I'll have the English Breakfast today."

Now that Alfred was bringing him his cup of tea, Arthur was ready to start working on his new plan...the last one was a total failure, thanks to a certain Frenchman!

"Kesesese! That was so awesome!" Exclaimed a man.

"You really did outdone yourself, amigo." Added another.

"It was great, wasn't it?" Said Francis, rather proud of his accomplishment.

He and Arthur were long-time rivals. So ten years ago, when Arthur had founded the Evil industries, Francis had felt the need to create his own Company that would try to take over the world. Thus Machiavel Inc. was founded. With the help of his two best acolytes, Gilbert and Antonio.

More recently, Arthur had tried to get some top-secret documents from an American governmental base that specialized into electronics and new technology. He had prepared a flawless operation and sent his best agents to do the job. These agents were surprised however when instead of top-secret documents they found a fresh red rose. Francis had gotten to the documents first, which was a great coup of itself. However, it was nothing compared to what happened next.

Someone had alerted the base security that someone might try to steal those specific documents and they didn't lose their time in apprehending the criminals. The spies managed to escape, obviously, since they were professionals, but not before letting out who they were working for. Which meant that Francis had the documents that Arthur desperately wanted while Arthur took the blame for the thievery and became a target of the C.I.A. It also meant that Francis was acting even more like an arrogant prick than before.

The best part of this whole thing however was when Francis sent a postcard of his genitals to Arthur with a note.

If you want to have your precious documents you will have to get a taste of this.

Hope to hear a response from you soon. Love, Francis.

"We should celebrate by opening zis bottle of wine!" The Frenchman exclaimed while brandishing a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.

"Papa?"

Francis turned around and met the inquiring stare of his son. He smiled gently and greeted his son with a kiss on a each cheeks and a bear-hug.

"Oh, chéri! How was your trip? I missed you so much!"

"It was fine. Um, papa? Why did you take out the Cabernet Sauvignon? I thought you were keeping it for a special occasion?"

Francis was slightly taken off guard. He didn't expect his son to be back from his trip already and, as genuinely happy as he was to see his son, he hadn't prepare a lie to explain this behaviour.

"Um, yes. You are right. Why don't you explain, Gilbert?"

The Frenchman brushed off the glare that he was sent, happy with his fast thinking. Mathieu turned his stare towards the albino man, patiently waiting a response to his simple question.

"Well, you know your dad owns a..." What was it again? Oh yeah! "...modelling agency, right? Well, business has been really well lately and some magazine asked your father if he could participate in an interview for a special edition about handsome entrepreneurs in the fashion industry. Oh yeah, I'm good!"

Mathieu shrugged and chose to ignore this last statement. Francis and Antonio were both staring at their friend, not really surprised by his ability to invent lies but still amazed.

"What magazine?" Nonchalantly asked Mathieu while making himself a glass of wine.

"Enough about me, mon coeur. How was your trip? Did you like Switzerland?"

"I got it! I finally know how I'm going to take over the world! Muhahahaha!"

Arthur tried to bring his cup of tea to his lips but realize that he didn't have one.

"Alfred! Where is my cup of tea?"