"Yo, Mattie, you hungry?" Alfred asked, halfway in the fridge. He had shoved himself into their large fridge as far as he could go, looking around for anything worthy of satisfying the American's hunger. "I was thinking of making you something special today. You know, to celebrate!"

"Celebrate?" Matt asked curiously, tilting his head at his brother.

"Yeah! You and your team just won your last big game! Of course, with you as my brother, that's to be expected, right? That last goal you shot was amazing."

He and his college team had just won their championship game against their long-time rivals, Matt scoring the seemingly impossible winning goal just seconds before the buzzer. The crowd roared, screaming Matt's name, the rest of his teammates tackling him onto the ice in what was supposed to be a hug.

Matt had been the star of his ice hockey team since he joined in middle school. Hockey had always been a big part of his life; he started practicing as soon as he could walk. It was one of his favourite things next to pancakes and maple syrup, of course. When he had spare time, he would often disappear to the nearby ice rink, practicing his shots. Occasionally he would practice with Alfred; the American could hold his own somewhat decently and Matt would usually give him a little time to keep up before completely destroying him, scoring goal after goal despite Alfred's comments that he was "totally letting him win because he didn't want to make him feel bad because of his awesome skill."

Not to say that Alfred couldn't prove to be a decent challenge when he wanted to, but football was more his game. He was a force to be reckoned with on the field.

The older blonde smiled, walking over to Al and casually pushing him further into the fridge until he heard his head hit the back with a light thunk. Alfred whined out his brother's name, but that didn't stop him from continuing to move containers of leftovers around in his seemingly hopeless quest for the perfect dish.

"Damn it, we're all out… I was hoping to make you your favourite chocolate and blueberry pancakes. But we don't have any of the stuff I'd need. And I know they wouldn't be anywhere near as good as when you make 'em, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

Matt peered in the fridge over Al's shoulder. Nothing but leftover pasta, burgers, and cans of soda. They really needed to go food shopping. And Matt would make sure Al didn't just buy what he wanted this time…

"If you want, I can run out and pick some stuff up."

Alfred pulled himself out of the fridge, giving Matt a "no way in hell are you doing that" look. "You stay here; I'll pick it up. Come on, I'm trying to do this for you; what kind of celebration would it be if I made you go out and buy the stuff for your own surprise?"

Matt sighed. "Okay, okay. Just don't go crazy and buy more things for burgers or other crazy stuff we don't need, please?"

Alfred just stared at his brother. Did he really think that was what he did? No way! Everything he bought he did so for a reason. Maybe Matt couldn't always see it right away, but he knew and that was all that mattered. "…Fine. I'll head out and be back in like twenty minutes," he said, grabbing his set of keys off the counter.

"I'll be here," Matt said, plopping down on the couch to begin channel surfing.

The door clicked shut behind Al and Matt focused on the TV, looking for something decent to watch. Click. News. Click. Game show. Click. Click. Matt sighed. There was never anything good on at this time and he refused to stoop to watching children's cartoons.

He heard the doorknob rattle and turned to glance curiously at the door. He hadn't been flipping through channels for that long, had he? No, he could have sworn Alfred had just left like five minutes ago, not even.

More rattling.

Matt laughed. "Did you forget which key it was again, Al? I keep telling you to mark it or something so you don't forget, but there aren't even that many—"

Matt heard a click and the door swung open. He scrambled off the couch as a masked man rushed in, racing for Matt. The blonde didn't waste a second, running around the couch and making a beeline for the bedroom. If he could make it to his hockey stick, he'd be perfectly safe. He kept it just between his bed and the nightstand if ever anyone tried to break in. Despite knowing Al would most likely take care of it before he could, it was comforting to know it was still there.

Matt was a force to be reckoned with when he had his hockey stick in hand. Despite his shy and often timid nature, with it he was even stronger than his younger brother. Matt would occasionally threaten Al with it when the younger blonde started getting on his nerves. There was no real explanation for why that was the case; he just felt stronger and more confident with it. It was as much a part of him as the maple syrup he loved drowning his pancakes in.

Matt looked over his shoulder and frowned. He wasn't expecting his attacker to be so quick and agile. He swiftly leapt over the couch, giving chase towards the bedroom. Matt tried to pick up the pace, but the man responded, speeding up to stay on him. Huffing, he wondered if this man was some kind of athletic star too.

The next thing Matt knew, he was being tackled to the ground just outside the bedroom. The two wrestled for a bit, rolling and tumbling down the hall, each trying to pin the other down. Matt's head slammed against the wall in the scrap, leaving him dazed as spots danced across his vision. He shook it off to find his arms pinned down, his attacker straddling him now. Matt started to panic, thrashing about underneath him. His eyes met with his attacker's piercing red ones and a chill ran down his spine. Those were just contacts to scare him, right...?

Oh God, oh Maple, what do you want from me…? I don't have anything…

Matt fought back the tears threatening to well up in his eyes. Why did it have to be him? Was this a robbery gone bad and he wasn't supposed to be there? Was he going to be taken advantage of? Matt panicked even more noticing their position. He was seriously starting to regret not going out for the groceries himself. Alfred would have had this guy down in no time. Or he could have even asked to come along…

If I live, next time… Matt grit his teeth. No. No, he's not going to get me!

Fueled by his thoughts, Matt did the first thing he could think of, headbutting the guy. A sickening crack filled the air and with a surprised yelp, he rolled off Matt, hands flying to his face. Blood flowed through his fingers and he chuckled softly, not expecting the kid to put up such a fight.

Matt scrambled to his feet, not daring to waste a second, and ran again for the bedroom, knocking over a few things in his haste. His heart hammered in his chest as a hall lamp fell to the ground and shattered.

Run, Matt, run, don't look back, you'll be safe soon.

Or at least, that's what he wanted to believe.

Matt had almost made it to them when he felt something hard hit the back of his head. He stumbled forward, hands flying to the back of his head as his thoughts temporarily jumbled from the surprise. He tried summoning the strength he had on the ice, but it didn't seem to want to come unless he was wearing his trusty skates.

Despite the surprise attack, pain in his head, and possible bleeding wound, he fought back, hands gripping for anything he could use as a weapon. Matt may have been invisible at times, the quiet kid in the back, but he could be just as stubborn as his brother. Neither of them backed down from a challenge—not that Matt was noticed often enough to be challenged. People only seemed to remember him during one of his hockey games. Off the ice, he was just that kid nobody paid attention to. And he was okay with that; fame and glory were Alfred's thing, not his.

His attacker felt less up for a fight. While it was awfully exciting to see the blonde giving what one might consider a decent fight, the throbbing in his face was driving him up the wall. He pulled a white cloth out of his pocket and held it up, Matt's eyes widening. Matt knew exactly what that was, kicking and thrashing in a desperate attempt to escape. Tears threatened to spill again as he thought back to all of the movies Al made him watch. People actually did this in real life?

The cloth inched closer to his face until it was pressed against his nose and mouth, the blonde trying desperately not to draw in a breath. There was no noticeable scent, but he could feel the chemicals trying to force their way into his system and take him over. That plan failed miserably, however, as in trying to calm himself down and not think about it, he thought about it more and hyperventilated in his panicked state, breathing in lungfuls of chloroform.

The drugs worked quickly; Matt started to get incredibly dizzy as the unwelcome tiredness flooded his body and forced his eyes closed. "H-He…" Matt tried calling for help, his voice lost.

His glasses fell to the ground as he was thrown over the man's shoulder, hanging limply. It was so much easier without the fighting and running, he thought cheerfully. The last thing Matt saw before the world went black was his front door opening and being locked again, no one to know of the events that had just transpired.

The blonde was blissfully unaware of his hands being bound tightly behind his back, of being thrown into the backseat of an incredibly ordinary looking car. No one on the block saw anything; there were no witnesses. The normally fairly busy street happened to be empty today; it couldn't have been planned any better.

Alfred returned fifteen minutes later, heavy-looking bags in hand. He fumbled in his pocket for the keys, trying to keep the bags from falling out of his hand. After a few more seconds of trying and failing to fish them out, he figured he had a brother for a reason, right? "Hey Matt, open up!"

Alfred waited. No answer.

"Matt, come on! These are heavy!" Al bounced back and forth on his heels to keep himself occupied while he waited for Matt. He absolutely loathed waiting; sitting still for too long was one of the worst imaginable things. "Mattie!"

Waiting there, Alfred had time to start going over what he'd say to his older brother when he saw the handful of bags. Sure he was only supposed to get the things he needed, but Matt never could truly understand how important it was to always be stocked up on the essentials. After all, what was a house without a surplus of burgers and soda? He was a growing boy; he needed energy!

But Al would handle all that when the door opened. If the door opened.

One last chance because Alfred was getting impatient. "Matt!" Still nothing. Grumbling, Alfred set the bags down to effectively fish the keys out of his pocket. "I'm going to get you back for this, Matt, just you wait."

The lock clicked open and Al stepped in, fully ready to go off on his brother who couldn't even be bothered to get up from the couch and… Al blinked, quickly noticing the lack of his twin. After a few seconds of staring at the empty couch, he figured he was probably just in the bathroom or something. Or maybe he fell asleep waiting for him. The number of possibilities was endless.

That was when Al realized the current state of their apartment. There were things thrown from their usual places, littering the ground. The aura of the house felt incredibly out of whack, sending a chill up his spine.

Al didn't know what he should be feeling. Surprise? Fear? Panic? This was such an out-of-body experience for him. In a daze, he took a step forward, snapping back to reality when he heard a light crunch under his foot. He stopped himself from putting all his weight down, pulling his leg back like he just got burned. With a gasp, he scooped up the now cracked pair of glasses, heart racing a mile a minute.

"Matt, this seriously isn't funny anymore! You're freaking me out!" Alfred tentatively walked towards the bedroom, stepping over the shards of the hall lamp that lay on the floor. Matt couldn't have left the house without his glasses… He was blind as a bat without them. Alfred was the same way, so he knew how bad it could get.

He was about to take another step towards the bedroom when his body froze, unable to move anymore. He saw the droplets of blood on the floor and screamed his brother's name, hyperventilating.

Blood; there was blood. Matt was gone and there was blood.

This is no time to freak out, Alfred! Your brother needs you. NOW.

Alfred ran for their phone and shakily grabbed it, calling 911.

Down at the precinct, Ivan was pouring himself a cup of coffee. He had just returned from his previous case, one he worked closely with his younger sister Natalya. Said sister was currently in the office of their older sister…again. She did not approve of Natalya's radical methods for solving cases. But this time they were arguing about the unfortunate "accident" of her partner that involved several broken fingers.

The rest of the precinct had learned to tune out the arguing between the eldest and youngest siblings. Fighting between the two was not an uncommon thing. While Katyusha was the sweetest woman they knew, cross her and she could make even the most hardened officer turn tail and run.

In the corner of the room, four desks were set up together, three out of the four currently in use. There sat the small team of forensics expert Toris Laurinaitis of Lithuania, computer extraordinaire Eduard von Bock of Estonia, and information bank Raivis Galante of Latvia. The fourth desk belonged to Natalya, but she refused to work with Toris any longer, instead wishing to work alongside her older brother.

Raivis was the youngest of the trio, but for somebody who could be so jumpy, he quickly worked his way through the ranks to join the rest of the detectives. The other officers, Ivan especially, had taken to referring to the trio as the Baltics due to their close origins. The three hated the nickname at first, saying that they were nothing alike, but after a few weeks, it grew on them.

Raivis laughed a bit, taking a sip of his coffee—not that he needed it; the kid drank so much of it that he developed a constant jitter. Toris was about to respond when the phone rang, his two deskmates falling silent.

"911, what is your emergency?" Toris asked calmly, keeping the accent out of his voice as best as possible.

"—AT, Army, Navy, somebody! Help!"

Toris pulled the phone away from his ear, grimacing at the volume. Ivan looked over curiously, having been able to hear every word spoken clearly despite being on the opposite side of the room. Taking a sip of his near steaming coffee, he went over to join the Baltics.

"Is this another drunken prank call?" the tall Russian asked, glancing at Toris.

Toris shrugged, trying to get the person on the other line to calm down. "Sir, please, I can't understand a word you're saying. You need to—"

"My brother's been kidnapped!" The caller repeated, still screaming.

Ivan sighed and took the phone from Toris. "Lead Detective Ivan Braginsky at your service. Now you will either calm down or no help will be given to you, do I make myself clear?"

The voice on the other end stuttered at Ivan's matter-of-fact tone, going silent for a moment before squeaking out a shaky "…Okay."

Ivan sighed, setting his coffee down on Toris' desk to switch it for a notepad and paper. "Good. Now that we have that settled, walk me through this slowly, da? What is your emergency?"

A sigh came from the other end. "My name is Alfred Jones and somebody kidnapped my older brother."