Jokers are former Aces that abuse their power and become corrupt. It’s a painful process that happens internally building up in till the power strips itself from it’s host leaving the Ace powerless. They often suffer chronic pain afterwords from the process.
In Ivan’s quest for revenge and power he falls prey to the sickness. He is manipulated by Matthew who uses his own power of sight to push Ivan to abuse his power resulting in Ivan’s change from Ace to Joker to stop Ivan’s unrelenting attacks on his fragile family. Which Ivan has destroyed and terrorized without them knowing for years.
In his endeavors Matthew walks the thin line of becoming a Joker himself.
“I’ll do whatever I want! It’s the internet! A thing that came from me, if I’m not mistaken. And who are you to tell me what to do?” he practically yelled, shutting his laptop roughly.
“I practically raised you! I have every say in what you can and can’t do while you’re supposed to be acting like an adult, but you can’t get past the teenager that you look like!” England countered, making to grab the electronic on the table. Before he could get there, however, a hand clamped painfully around his wrist. He looked up to see what used to be light blue eyes, now visibly darkened. They flashed and… pixilated?, before going back to normal once more.
“I would advise against that, Arthur,” he said, voice dead and echoing.
“That is enough, America,” Russia cut in, removing the other’s hand by the wrist and taking up his free hand, holding them against the table. “Calm down.”
Alfred turned his once again warped gaze onto him, blinking slowly, no human emotion present. Unsettled by the sight, Russia stepped back and let go, holding everyone else back with an arm.
“Alfred? Are you okay?” spoke up a small voice. The countries right behind Russia all turned to look at Canada, who had just appeared
Alfred took off his glasses and set them down lightly on the table. He tapped the computer three times, then right below his right eye once, before looking to his brother. Matthew nodded in understanding. “Can you make it there?” he asked. Alfred shook his head no.
“Do it here.”
Matthew looked nervous. “But, Alfie, what about everyone else? This is still to developmental for others to be trying to buy.” He motioned to the other inhabitants of the room. America’s warped gaze fell across all of them, focusing on each nation in turn, before sliding back to the other once more.
“Let them watch. It’s about time they found out anyways, right?” He laughed. The sound was almost mechanical; harsh, sharp, without the natural ease of anyone else.
Canada left, and a tense silence fell across them all. Alfred did nothing but stare at the wall, tapping his pen against the arm of the chair slowly, evenly, making the atmosphere far more eerie than it needed to be.
Eventually, Russia stepped forward again, the only one not paralyzed by some kind of fear, subconscious or otherwise. “Fedya, w-”
“America,” he corrected sharply, turning to face him.
“…Right. America, what’s going on? Where is your brother going? And what’s going on with your eyes?” he asked, inching closer and crouching down so they were at eye level with each other.
Alfred sighed, the only thing truly human that he’s done since anyone had seen him this morning. “I will explain this all to you in due time, hopefully with a little help.” He paused. “And as for my eyes? Well, it’s just a slight… glitch in my programming.” Alfred smirked. But before Ivan could ask for clarification, Matthew came back into the room carrying what looked like a pure white, metal brief case. He came around to the other side of the chair, opposite of the Russian, and opened it.
Ivan looked at it’s contents in awe. Never before had he seen so much advanced technology all together like this all at once. On the side that stood straight up, there was a dark screen, and the bottom housed a small keyboard with foreign characters on each key, several buttons and switches, and what looked like a housing station for cables.
“What in the bloody hell is that?” England whispered.
“I’m not sure,” came the accented reply, “But I don’t trust it. Especially around my Mattheu or Alfred.”
Canada worked through their chatter, booting up the screen and typing a few things in. As much as they tried, no one else could decipher what was being typed. Once he entered the information, he straightened his back and pulled up two cords, attaching one to an invisible port at the base of Alfred’s neck, and the other to a smaller port under a panel under his left eye.
He closed his eyes, which were dark and pixilated still, and relaxed into the chair a little more. Matthew finished with what he was doing on the screen, flipped two of the switches, and pressed a purple button near the corner of the case.
“Would someone please explain what’s going on?” China called from the back of the group. Surprisingly, Germany stepped forward, reaching out as if to touch the young nation, but stopping just short.
“Is this…” he began, but trailed off almost immediately. His hand dropped limply to his side. “How many of you have actually touched America?” he asked the assembled group. They all looked to each other, glancing around and waiting for someone to come forward.
“I did when he came to my house to play video games a few nights ago,” Japan offered.
“Did you touch his skin or just his clothes?” Germany pressed.
“Just his clothes, but Ludwig, what does this have to do with anything?”
“Come here,” the German held out his hand, which the other took cautiously. “He trusts you, right?” Japan nodded. “Matthew, is this what I think it is?”
“If you’re referring to the project we asked to borrow your best scientists and engineers for, then yes, it is,” he replied, not looking away from the other’s peaceful, almost sleepy face.
Gently, Germany placed the raven-haired man’s hand on the skin just under Alfred’s collar. Kiku flushed slightly, “Ludwig I don’t think-”
“Just wait a second,” he cut in. Kiku looked to him, a mixture of despiration and unease dancing across his face.
Then, out of nowhere, he felt the familiar jolt of electricity shoot through his hand and up his forearm. He jumped back with an audible gasp, shocking the few left behind him and making them step back a few feet, too. “What was that?”
“I’d like to know as well,” Ivan added, rising from his crouched position. “This is now a matter of international security.”
At the words ‘international security’, the pseudo-peaceful quiet broke, and several cries of fear, confusion, and outrage rang out across the small room.
“Someone please explain what’s going on!”
“Is there some kind of terrorist plot?”
“What is sticking out of America’s neck?”
“Would you all shut up!” Germany yelled over the quickly evolving chaos. The room fell to a relative, tattered silence, so he continued. “I know only a little of what has transpired here, and what led to this, but I do know that there’s no harm that will come from this. To you or your citizens.”
“But what about Alfred?” Arthur asked a little forcefully, the first person to show any kind of concern for him rather than themselves. “What’s going on with him? Why does he have-have cables sticking out of him for god’s sake?!”
“Let me try to explain to you before he wakes up completely,” the North American began. “We’ve been working with Tony’s race, and some of the best scientists in the entire world, to, um, ‘enhance the physical and psychological abilities of the most elite among our society’.”
“And we chose us to start with,” Alfred cut in, having regained consciousness at some point while Matthew was explaining, “Because we are both immortal, so long as our countries and our people stand. This way, if the tech killed us, we’d just come back and make changes. Make it better.” He unplugged the two wires from him, laid them back down in the case, and stood behind his brother.
“You all know that I’m a superpower,” he continued, “And that I’m far too young to have this much power without it having adverse effects on me. Canada is very similar, but on a slightly smaller scale.” The country in question nodded in agreement. “So, having things to help out with this are… nice.”
“What he means is that we have ways to be able to separately store certain memories, thoughts, and skills on physical storage devices and softwares specifically designed to hold these things.” He paused. “However…”
“Sometimes the program glitches,” Germany finished for them, light blue eyes wide in amazement. “How did you two accomplish so much so quickly?”
“And without anyone here knowing?” Ivan dropped one hand to his side, and the other made its way behind his back, gripping at the pipe that hadn’t been there before. “That sounds more than a little untrustworthy to me.”
of course, he seemed to me a child- so young, yet so terribly, hideously strong.
I know it’s common to portray Russia being unhinged during the Cold War, but seriously, America went from colony to superpower in less than 200 years. In APH terms, wouldn’t that be a tad frightening for the other nations who have lived such long lives?
Alright guys. So....my friends and I did a thing....
Alright. So last night, I spent the night at my friend’s house with a group of my Hetalia friends. They were the ones who got me into the fandom in the first place. Anyways, we ended up watching this movie:
I adore this movie. However, as I was discussing it further with my friends, we somehow got onto the subject of Hetalia anyways. And…this happened. We imagined a Sweeney Todd/Hetalia cross over. For the record, all of us are completely sane. I figured I should make that clear before going into this. [CUE DRAMATIC CUT SCENE]
Francois Bonnefoy (2P France) is our Sweeney. We decided that, after being shipped away Ion Braginski (2P Russia) as this person:
He would have lost it and gone completely 2P.
When Francois comes back to London finally and makes his way back to his barber shop on Fleet Street, he discovers his strange new downstairs neighbor Oliver Kirkland (aka 2P England). Oliver runs a cupcake shop that bears the catch phrase “worst cakes in London”. Needless to say, things weren’t looking good for the shop before Francis comes home.
After making the mistake of trying one of the cupcakes, Oliver fills Francois in on what happened to his old husband Arthur while he was banished.
Francis Bonnefoy (1P France), as he’d previously been called, had been exiled to Australia for life because Ion Braginski (2P Russia), the town judge, had fallen in love with his husband, Arthur Kirkland (1P England). The only way to get to him, however, was to get Francis out of the picture. Once he had been exiled, he sent Arthur flowers every day in hopes of getting his attention. To no avail. Arthur’s heart still belonged to Francis. Not to mention the fact that he had to raise their daughter Madeline all on his own now. So, one night, Ion sent the Beadle Galante (2P Latvia) over to his abode.
The Beadle Galante brings Arthur to Ion’s house on the pretense that Ion wants to apologize for his wrongdoings. When he gets there, however, it is revealed there is a large masquerade ball occurring. There isn’t anyone Arthur knows there, so he wanders and drinks.
Arthur looks all over the place for Ion, but it’s Ion who finds him first. Ion rapes Arthur in front of all the guests but, thinking it’s just a prank, everyone just looks on and laughs.
Francois is positively distraught at the news and accidentally gives away his old identity to Oliver as Francis from the old days. He asks what became of Arthur in the long run, and Oliver answers that he poisoned himself with arsenic from the apothecary around the corner. After a moment’s pause, he also reveals that Madeline has been taken under Ion’s care as his “ward”, or adopted daughter. Francois snaps and vows his revenge against Judge Braginski.
Meanwhile, the sailor who saved Francois from the middle of the ocean wanders around London while the ship is docked. His name is Gilbert Beilschmidt (1P Prussia). As he sits down on a bench to rest his feet, he glances up into the window of one of the houses, only to see a beautiful girl sitting in the windowsill.
The girl’s name is Madeline Williams (Fem!Canada), and she just longs to be free from the house in which Ion keeps her captive under his legal guardianship. She wants to be free like the birds outside and, as she looks down, she spots Gilbert. She smiles at him a bit, and he smiles in return. When Gilbert finds out from a town beggar that the house belongs to Judge Braginski, and that the woman he had seen was his ward Madeline, he promises himself to steal her away from her concrete prison.
Ion catches him looking at her, however, and threatens that, should he ever see Gilbert so much as look at Madeline again, he would have “his pretty little brains splattered all over the pavement”. Gilbert doesn’t give up, though, and goes to Francois, telling him all about Madeline.
Francois realizes that the only way to get his daughter back is to kill Ion, so he and Oliver develop a small plot to lure the Judge into his barber shop.
The two go into town the next morning and find a caravan labeled “Lovino Vargas: The King of the Barbers, The Barber of Kings.” Oliver knew that it would be there, so he’d purposely brought Francois into town that day. All of a sudden, they hear the sound of drums, and a small Italian by the name of Feliciano Vargas (1P Italy) comes out of the caravan, claiming to be selling “Vargas’ Miracle Elixir”, an elixir that helps hair growth. Francois and Oliver call him out on the scam, proclaiming that “it’s nothing but an errant fraud concocted of piss and ink”.
Lovino Vargas (1P Romano) hears this accusation and is furious. He storms out of the caravan and demands to know who accused him and, when Francois steps forward, he nods. Francois challenges Lovino to a contest in which they both must shave a volunteer’s cheek with the best results. He wagers one of his silver razors, in exchange for 5 Euros should he win. If Lovino didn’t accept the challenge, he would be forced to reveal himself to be a sham.
Needless to say, Lovino is very showy, but Francois gets the job done better and faster than he ever could. Francois takes the 5 Euros from him, and the Beadle Galante, who had been judging the contest, inquires whether he has his own establishment. He states that he does and gives him the address.
Lovino and Feliciano show up at Francois’ barber shop the next day and Francois asks Oliver to keep Feliciano downstairs as Lovino and himself talk. Oliver does so and offers the boy one of his cupcakes, which Feliciano gladly accepts, as he hasn’t been treated very well in the past, so a cupcake is a treat.
Upstairs, Lovino discloses that, before Francois had been shipped off to Australia in exile, he had apprenticed under him. The Italian attempts to blackmail Francois with this information in exchange for half of his earnings for life. Francois snaps. He can’t deal with that. So, he reaches around and grabs the metal tea kettle Oliver had had on for tea, and proceeds to bash in Lovino’s head with it. He stuffs his body in a large trunk over by the wall and, downstairs, Feliciano remembered that Lovino had an appointment with his tailor. He rushes back upstairs to let his boss know, only to not be able to find him anywhere.
Francois ushers the boy back downstairs when, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ion and Beadle Galante heading in the direction of the barber shop. Why were they coming? Over the course of his guardianship over Madeline, Ion had grown to love the young woman as more than his daughter. He wanted to marry her, and the Beadle had pointed out that he looked “less than his best”. So, Judge Braginski made his way upstairs.
Francois couldn’t believe his luck. He shaves the Judge with care and, just as he is ready to finally be rid of him once and for all, Gilbert barges into the parlor, alerting Francois that Madeline had agreed to elope with him and that they were leaving that night. Ion, naturally, is furious and swears to never return to Francois’ barber shop, as “it is all too clear the company he keeps”. Gilbert apologizes profusely to Francois, but he won’t hear it. He screams at him to “GET OUT!” and Gilbert runs out of the parlor, only to have Oliver run upstairs to see what was going on.
During the course of five minutes, Francois begins to go insane. He is going to get to the Judge, one way or another, and, in the mean time, he is going to kill anyone he can.
Oliver, still being somewhat sane (though not for much longer), points out the obvious. What are they going to do with Lovino’s body? Francois says that “when it’s dark, they’ll take him to some secret place and bury him”. Oliver states that they could do that, and then has an idea. They are going to grind up the bones and meat of Francois’ victims and put them in Oliver’s cupcakes to sell to the people of London! A sickly, twisted business indeed.
Over the course of several months, two things occur simultaneously: Gilbert is now looking for where Judge Braginski sent Madeline (as he sent her away to keep her from running off with him), and Francois and Oliver now have their business underway, killing left and right and baking them into cupcakes.
Meanwhile, the town beggar is the only one who truly knows what is going on inside Oliver’s bake house. He knows that Oliver is evil, and he knows that what he’s doing is hurting people. He’s constantly trying to warn people, but they never listen. They just think he’s a crazy loon.
Eventually, Gilbert finds Madeline. Ion had had her sent to Fogg’s Asylum for the Insane, and she was currently trapped there. He rushed back to London and begged for Francois’ help in getting her out. He just needed to have her stay at the parlor for a half hour while he got the two of them a taxi to the harbor, and then they’d be out of his hair forever. Oliver agreed for the two of them, and Gilbert thanked him gratefully, along with Francois. Francois and Gilbert construct a plan which ends up getting the Prussian into the asylum.
When Gilbert leaves, the wheels in Francois’ head are already turning. He wrote a letter to Ion explaining the situation, and had Feliciano (who, since the “strange disappearance” of his master was staying with Oliver and himself) rush it off to him.
The next night is when everything came together. However, there was one small flaw. Feliciano had started to get suspicious of Francois’ actions. However, since he’d grown to love Oliver as a father, he promised to protect him as much as he could. “Nothings gonna harm you. Not while I’m around.”
Oliver is startled. He never expected the boy to catch on. So, sadly, he brings him down into the bake house and locks him inside to keep him from telling anyone.
While he is down there, Francois kills Beadle Galante (who had come to inspect said bake house) and sent him down into the bake house where Feliciano proceeds to scream and yell, begging to be let out.
The town beggar had seen the Beadle go up into the parlor, so he thought that it would be the perfect opportunity to catch him to tell him what was going on with Oliver. When he goes up and realizes that no one is there (Oliver and Francois are down in the bake house searching for Feliciano, who had disappeared since Oliver had locked him inside), but continues to look around, as it feels like he recognizes the place.
Just then, Francois came back and noticed him, only to hear the sound of hurried steps coming up the stairs leading to the parlor. Quickly, he slit the beggar’s throat with his razor and sent him down the shoot to the bake house. Once the body was gone, he shrugged on a jacket just in time to turn and face Judge Braginski.
The Judge had gotten his letter and met at Francois’ parlor as instructed. Francois managed to get the other man into the barber chair and began to talk to him. “The years no doubt have changed me, sir. But, then again, I suppose the face of a barber…the face of a prisoner…isn’t a particularly memorable one,” he purred, his voice smooth as silk. The realization comes too late, and Ion whips around to face Francois. “Francis Bonnefoy…” he muttered, only to have himself cut off by Francois screaming in confirmation “FRANCIS BONNEFOY!” Violently, he stabbed into his neck with the razor, over and over, blood going all over and spattering his clothes. He didn’t care, though. The man he loathed was finally dead. He pressed the pedal on the barber chair and sent him down the chute into the bake house, when all of a sudden he heard shrieks from below and rushed down to see what had happened.
Oliver had been screaming because Ion hadn’t been completely dead when he hit the floor and the man had gripped onto his trouser leg before finally going limp. That, however, was the least of his concern, as he glanced over to the body of the beggar. “No…not you. Anyone but you..” he growled and began to drag the body towards the large oven in the corner of the room.
“What happened?” Francois asked as he came in. “Was it the Judge?”
“Yeah. He wasn’t quite dead. He’s dead to the world now, though,” he muttered, continuing to drag the body towards the oven when Francois looked over at the two of them.
“Don’t I know you, he said…” Francois mumbled, rushing over and looking down at the body of the beggar in Oliver’s arms. It was his Arthur. His Arthur had become this after he’d left. The love of his life…he’d killed him.
“I was only thinking of you…how would you have liked to know that’s what had become of your dear sweet Arthur?” he asked, a slight sneer to his voice, but mostly fear.
“You lied to me.”
“No! No, I didn’t lie. I said he took the poison, he did, never said that he died.”
“Arthur…god, no…” he said softly, looking down at the now bloody corpse.
“Fine I lied, cause I love you! I’d be twice he husband he was, I love you! It’d be hard to find another like me!” he exclaimed, looking over at the other man. He’d fallen for him over the past year. Hell, he’d fallen for him at first sight.
Francois slowly looked up at him and pulled him close to himself. “Easy now. Hush, mon amour…” he purred, a dark tone of seduction in his voice as he slowly backed the smaller man up. “We can still be married. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” And with that, he threw Oliver into the oven to burn up. He quickly locked the door so that he couldn’t get out, and dropped his razor to the ground.
He knelt down beside Arthur and cradled his head in his lap. He began to sob. He’d done this….
Slowly, behind him, Feliciano came out of his hiding place. He picked up the razor and quietly made his way behind the heartbroken killer.
Francois heard his footsteps though. He wasn’t stupid. Instead of fighting it, however, he simply sat up and leaned his head backwards to give him access.
And with that small gesture, Feliciano slit Francois’ throat.
I would just like to point out that none of the art here is mine. I was an idiot and didn’t save the sources when I saved them to my laptop, so I can’t source them here. If one of the artworks here are yours, by all means message me and tell me so I can credit you accordingly. Thanks, and I hope you guys liked it! ~Cheyenne