Chapter Text
"Alfred, don't ever forget," Arthur's eyes bore into his son's, making him feel weak.
"He who cannot live with honor must die with honor."
September 24th, 2013, The United States
Alfred Jones rubbed the sleep from his eyes and felt around his nightstand for his glasses. The sun shining through his curtains was beautiful, in stark contrast to the grating sound of his phone ringing in the kitchen. His room was simple, but some signs of his personality were out for view. Sports posters and various photographs lined one wall. His sheets were a navy blue color. Alfred finally brushed his hand against his glasses and grabbed them, sliding them up his nose. He rubbed his hands on his face and got himself to his feet. The ringing stopped for a moment, before another call came in. He sleepily walked to his kitchen, swiping the phone from the wall. His kitchen was a bit of a mess, but he could worry about that later.
"Rob?", Alfred's voice still groggy, "what is it?" His boss shifted around on the other side of the phone, "I need you to come to the office by noon. Its important." Alfred sighed, but he could sense the weariness in the man's voice. The kind of weariness when he knew he was giving Alfred a job he wouldn't take easily. His stubbornness could have gotten him kicked out from the organization years ago, but he was young, and he was skilled. They needed him just as much as he needed them. Not to mention that his father would kill him for a stunt like refusing a job, but that didn't mean he was easy to budge.
Family business, as his father liked to call it. There wasn't much of a family in it, the organization consisted of both wealthy men and people who were willing to do dirty work in return for coin. A lot of coin. Alfred had been roped into his father's business before he was even a teenager. His father had always been cold, distant, not too there for Alfred's needs but not distant enough to be neglectful. For Alfred, his father had always just… existed. Like his blanket that kept him warm at night, or the sun that shined through the morning windows to irk him awake. Things apart of his daily life that he didn't put much thought into, but they were there all the same. He didn't ever have much of a family. He had been sheltered his whole life, not knowing who his mother was, and not having many close friends. His brother was the only person he confided in growing up, but even Matthew became distant eventually. His brother's jealousy was obvious, Matt had always been the "lesser" of the two boys. Alfred was to take on his father's legacy, leaving Matthew behind. That didn't mean he wouldn't be made to work for it. He was not in any way a high rank of the Kirkland organization. He would be started out as just an agent, just someone made to do dirty work for those above him, and in return, would move his way up the ranks to inherit his father's place.
Alfred never planned on joining his father's business, being a young man with dreams of his own. He had rejected it up until the first day at the hospital, his weak father lying in a bed before him. The sounds of machines beeping clouded the room, his father's heart rate on a monitor making his blood feel cold. He had been shot, right between the ribs. An assassination attempt. If he weren't a man with such a high status and riches, there was no way he would have survived. The grief he had felt from almost losing his father made him understand that he did love him more than he thought he did, which was why his orders soon after left him feeling smothered. Arthur coughed, his body shuddering, before looking deep into his son's eyes. "The doctor's won't tell me but I already know whats coming. I don't have a lot of time left, Alfred. You need to start now before I am gone. You will take my place. Because we are family." Arthur's eyes widened, his body stiffening up in protest, "we've already talked about this! I can't-" his words trailed off as he looked at his father's pale, aged face. The guilt in his stomach threatened to eat him alive. That was the day all of Alfred's freedom would be stripped from him until death.
"Jones!", his boss waved him into his office, his smile the fake facade of a used car salesman trying to sell you a piece of junk. Alfred knew something was up, but he returned the smile and took a seat across from Rob. The older man kept up his smile and tapped his fingers on the desk, Alfred could sense his unease from a mile away.
The office was huge, much too big just for the two of them. The huge wooden desk was in the center of the room, the windows behind it showing the city's skyline. Alfred had been in this exact office more times than he could count, but he could never shake the uncanny feeling it gave him. His boss, much too small for his large leather chair, slid a document out from the drawer of his desk. The brunette slid it across the table, immediately making Alfred raise an eyebrow. With no further words Alfred snatched the folder and tore it open, eager to find out what bullshit he would have to put up with next. The first page contained a photo of a man, as well as information about him. The man was well built, having silver hair that contrasted his violet eyes. He looked so pale it was almost sickly, and he had deep scars around his neck. The photo was strange, almost like it had been captured during a private moment he wasn't aware of, which was most likely the case. Ivan Braginsky. Five feet, eleven inches tall. Russian nationality. TARGET.
Alfred kept reading further flipping to the next page, only to find almost no information. The last page contained the man's home address, routine, and a few short notes about his family, that being his two sisters. Alfred furrowed his brows and looked up at his boss. "What? I cant even get a job description anymore? The hell am i supposed to do with this?" Rob's expression turned sheepish and he straightened out his tie. "The uh- well! The job's not exactly…" he pursed his lips and waved his hands a bit, like he was trying to find the right word, "typical? At least, compared to what you're used to…" He plastered a grin on his face and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Alfred groaned and set the folder back down on the desk. "Rob, just fuckin' tell me already." His boss leaned further away in his chair and sighed. "Well- Alfred you uh- you ever tried cross dressing?"
"Cross dressing?" Alfred's roommate sipped his tea and thought the situation over. Kiku, a short, soft-spoken Japanese man, was someone that in adulthood, Alfred had learned to confide in. Despite the secretive nature of his job, Kiku was someone that would hear the unfiltered details every time. Alfred sat on the couch next to him, his head in his hands, "I can't fucking believe this, I mean yeah they've made me do some lousy shit, but this? This is ridiculous." Kiku still looked lost in thought, before trying to offer his friend a small piece of comfort. "It can't be that bad. It wouldn't be the first time cross dressing was used to manipulate people into giving up information. Have you heard of Shi Pei-Pu? He was a spy for the Chinese government, and he formed a sexual relationship with a French man, getting lots of information about him. There's even a play about it called M. Butterfly, I saw it when-" Alfred nudged Kiku, cutting off his ramblings, "Kiku, that does not help my case."
Kiku continued to sip his tea, looking thoughtfully into the distance. "Can you explain what exactly they want you to do? You are kind of leaving that out." The blonde groaned, rubbing an old bruise on his arm, "does it even matter? This is bullshit." He sat in silence until Kiku looked over at him, his soft face obviously interested in hearing more. "Fine, they want me to pose as a woman to get close to this guy named Ivan Braginsky. He's really anti-social, so it'll be hard as hell to do it. People say he doesn't even have any friends. They want some sorta information out of him, but they wont even tell me! How am I supposed to collect information without even knowing what I'm collecting? The guy lives in Russia, across the damn sea. How the hell am I supposed to get that close to him?"
October 2nd 2013, Russia
Ivan Bragisnky's violet eyes panned over what his sister was showing him. Katyusha held the photo up to him, urging him to just take it into his own hands. Her brother took the photo, before questioning her, "what are you showing me? Who is this?" The photo showed a younger blonde man with blue eyes, which were obscured by rectangular glasses. His older sister took a moment before answering. "Alfred F. Jones. The Kirkland family has been hiding Arthur's children for years. This man is the heir." Ivan looked up at her, shocked. "How do you know this? There is no known reports of him having any children, let alone a next in-line." Katyusha patted her brother's shoulder, a thing she had been doing since they were both kids. "You really think our family doesn't have spies in America?"
Ivan looked the photo over again before handing it back to her, but she held up her hand. "Keep it, it's probably important to know what he looks like." Their younger sister, Natalya sat at the dining room table, agitated. She never liked being involved in their family's affairs. She slammed the book she had been reading shut, Ivan didn't catch the title and only saw the author, John Luther Long. He tried smiling at her before she stormed down the hallway of their mansion. Katyusha sighed and followed after her, leaving Ivan alone with the photograph. He sat in silence, before he found himself examining the man again, lost in thought. A lot of time must have passed, because he heard his sister's both returning, their footsteps echoing as he quickly slid the photo in his coat pocket.
Natalya gave him a weird look, crossing her arms and returning to her seat at the table. "Did you really just stand there for twenty minutes?" Ivan felt his face flush and he laughed awkwardly, "just- lost in thought!" Natalya rolled her eyes before pulling out her cell phone, starting to peck away at the keys. Katyusha leaned close to her brother and motioned him to follow her. He nodded and followed, the two sliding out the back door. The cold Russian air immediately chilled Ivan's face, but it wasn't anything he wasn't used to. His sister on the other hand visibly shivered before sitting down on the porch chair. Ivan took a seat next to the blonde.
"I figured it would be better to talk out here, you know how Natalya is…" she said, smiling weakly. Ivan nodded his agreement, "she doesn't like our family's status. Never has, never will. And that's okay. She's young. I've always hoped for a better life for her." The two siblings both sat in silence, only the sound of the whirling cold wind filling the space. His older sister was visibly sad, which was understandable. Neither of them exactly dreamed of living in a family like this, but it was simply what they were born into. After their parents had been murdered, their father's best friend, Abrasha Sharp, took care of them, with the company of many maids. The three siblings had been home schooled, and all their life had been prepared to take on what their father had left behind.
Ivan's eyes trailed over to his mother's mason jar, sat right in the middle of the porch table. She had held onto it for years, catching bugs in it when she was a child. Ivan's mother had always held onto things from her younger years, her years of freedom before being put in an arranged marriage to his father. Her family gained money and status and she gained a husband and life she never wanted. And kids she never wanted. Ivan swallowed and shook the thought from his head, finding Katyusha staring at him.
"If Sharp finds out about this Alfred kid, he'll probably make one of his little henchmen kill him." she shrugged, as if the thought didn't really bother her. The two of them were used to these things anyway. Honor and power were the two most important things driven into their heads, the death of the weak meant nothing to them. Ivan tilted his head in confusion, "Sharp wasn't the one who informed you of this matter?" His sister shook her head and smirked, "you could say I'm a little buddy-buddy with some of our spies," she winked, "all I have to do is promise not to rat 'em out and they give me a bit of info. Makes me feel… hm- important?"
Ivan chuckled and rolled his eyes, "so it's really that easy huh?", he smiled. Before the two of them could continue conversing a maid hastily stepped onto the porch, timidly standing to the side. The girl avoided eye contact, "Ivan, Sharp wants to see you… he's in his study." And then she whirled around leaving as quickly as she came. Ivan sighed and his sister patted his shoulder. "try to come back alive!" she joked, before Ivan smiled and returned into the house.
He walked quickly through the long familiar hallways before standing in front of a large oak door. Normally he would knock, but as he had been summoned he decided to just enter. The study was huge, with tall bookshelves reaching the soaring ceilings. Sharp waited expectantly behind his desk, eyeing the young man who had just entered. Ivan gave him a smile and stood before his desk, shifting nervously on his feet. "You called for me?".
Sharp slid a familiar photo across the wooden desk, "Kirkland has an heir."