Thanks to Tortugas-and-Lovi for making this chapter much more enjoyable to read :)

summary: The Department of Arcane Paranormal Happenings (APH) deals with the other side of the world; the one that most people have no idea about. Where people with superpowers abound, fighting strange creatures that could have leapt off the pages of a fantasy book. When Arthur Kirkland was "promoted" from his normal job in the Special Operations department of MI6 into the mysterious APH, he had no idea what he was getting into.
[pairings undecided]

disclaimer: Let's not be stupid, guys.

warnings: Clichés. Lots of 'em. Mostly of the spy kind. Oh! And language and gender-bending and bad writing. Can't forget those.

Chapter 1
Mission Failed, Here's Your Promotion!

"Fuck."

Arthur Kirkland sped up his motorcycle, driving wildly through what seemed to be the busiest street in India while dodging bullets blowing past his ear every two seconds. If that stupid French frog hadn't distracted him -

"Eek!" One of the bullets had nearly hit him this time!

"Bloody hell!" he cursed and veered sharply to the left, almost running over an Indian woman and her child. The engine sputtered. Not good. That meant he was running out of gas. Damn it!

Clunk! The twenty-two year old skidded to the right after hitting the curb. He narrowly missed a bearded man and his cow, ran over a muddy puddle, and happened upon a mercifully empty street. He glanced down for a moment to check the motor - which was still intact despite all of the bullets it had taken. He silently thanked whoever made the vehicle for making the thing bulletproof.

Arthur glanced back and, seeing no more black motorcycles chasing him, slowed down. He parked the motorcycle in an alley and quickly surveyed the area. No visible threats. Looks like he actually managed to lose the dumbasses. Smirking, he dipped into his pocket for a phone and booked a passage for a trip back to London under a fake name. After that, he threw it down and crushed it with his foot. One could never be too cautious. At least, not one in his line of business.

This mission was still not over.

A brown-skinned faerie with long, braided dark hair flew into his line of vision and started gesturing wildly at something behind the Brit. Two buildings over, a crouching man locked onto his target.

"Aake mere desi bund chaat."

Arthur's hand, moving on its own accord and pointed at the sniper. "Get him."

The faerie obeyed.

Arthur wasn't worried. He nonchalantly dodged the bullet and took out another phone to call his boss with. "Sir," he said respectfully after the dial tone stopped. He could hear distantly the sniper's screeching as an invisible menace clawed out his eyes. Poor chap. Faeries were terrifying when one of their own was threatened.

"Kirkland?" his boss prompted.

"I have it."

He was painfully conscious of the tiny flash drive dangling on a chain necklace, hidden underneath his shirt. That tiny piece of technology contained information that could destroy the lives of approximately five hundred thousand people in India.

Interestingly enough, it also contained information one of the most notorious criminal organizations in the world. What it was doing in a flash drive, Arthur had no idea, but he wasn't about to complain. It made his mission so much easier. Really, aside from being chased and the unbearable heat, it wasn't too bad of a mission. It was better than the last one, at least. Actually, it would have been perfect if it weren't for that French bastard trying to grope him and catching the attention of the guards, resulting in the aforementioned chase and the near-murder of several Indian citizens.

But at least he got to kick the pervert in the balls. That was something.

"Kirkland!"

"Oh!" Arthur started. "Ah, my apologies." Not really. His boss tended to ramble, although he had been trying to curb that habit lately. Who could blame him for allowing his attention to wander?

"I shall assume that you have not been listening and repeat everything once again," his boss said dryly. "Return ASAP." Flight, check. "Make sure it is not stolen." Paranoia at its peak, check. "Meet me in my office right after you drop off the flash drive to Harris."

"Yes, sir."

His boss hung up.

Arthur walked through the crowds at Heathrow, absently listening to a faerie gushing about her recent crush on this "totally hot prince" and that "his wings are as gorgeous as the star-strewn sky" and how "his silver eyes just makes me want to swoon". He dragged his small suitcase behind him, accidentally bumping into a harried-looking man. "I'm sorry!" Arthur said quickly.

"Quite alright," the man responded. The man seemed vaguely familiar, and his hair especially struck a chord. It was blond, about shoulder length. His eyes were blue. But he didn't have time to worry about that.

He exited through the sliding doors, called a taxi, and gave the driver the address to a shop two blocks away from the MI6 headquarters. It was in the poorer sections of the city (for security reasons). Trash lined the streets. Suspicious-looking people peeked from behind windows and newspapers. A stray cat looked up from its meal of fried chicken to narrow its eyes at the taxi.

Arthur kept his eyes forward.

When he arrived to his destination, he walked down the street and into a dark, nondescript apartment building. It was made out of concrete, it's windows with blinds shut tight so that no one could see. Whoever built the building did not bother painting the drab, grey walls. He pushed open the doors, went up to the "out of service" elevator and pressed his hand against a small, inconspicuous metal square on the wall. Exactly forty-one seconds later, the elevator quietly opened and Arthur entered. The elevator closed. The young agent pressed the buttons for the second, seventh, fourth, fifth, and third floor - in that order. Soon enough, the doors were sliding open, and he was deep underground in one of MI6's most secretive departments.

Most of the people milling around nodded to Arthur, who nodded back. There was Miller, and Wright, and Moore, and Johnson, and -

"Kirkland!" Harris, a fifty-three year old veteran who had fought in the Second World War, shot out from nowhere and hugged the blond tightly. "Kirkland! I missed you!"

Arthur resisted the urge to swear. Harris was his superior, after all. According to rumours, Harris used to be cold and serious before he lost all of his friends and lovers during the Blitz. He never got the chance to tell them he cared. And so, to prevent something like that from ever happening again, Harris expressed his affection and fondness to everyone openly and, in some cases, disturbingly.

There was a reason why Harris's only living relative never felt comfortable around the man.

As if sensing his discomfort, Harris leaned back and gave the agent some space. "Haha, sorry Kirkland." He patted his self-proclaimed friend on the back. "So where's the thingy?"

Arthur rolled his eyes (discreetly). He grabbed his neck…

And then he froze.

His hand clutched at the fabric of his shirt.

"I'm sorry!"

"Quite alright."

The harried-looking man. He was blond. He had blue eyes.

And he had a French accent.

"That cheese-eating surrender monkey."

"YOU LOST THE FLASH DRIVE!"

His boss was not a happy camper.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but his boss beat him to it.

"AND TO THE FRENCH! MY GOD, ARTHUR, I THOUGHT YOU WERE BETTER THAN THAT!"

As much as he wanted to interrupt, Arthur kept his mouth shut. His boss was not a man to be trifled with when pissed.

The man paced back and forth, spewing rather creative insults directed towards Arthur and the "intelligence agency run by cheese-eating surrender monkeys".

Arthur was thinking. The French man. Yes. He was the same one that tried to grope him during his mission. He must have been trying to steal the flash drive back then, too. What was his name? Pierre something-or-other -

" - transfer you into another department - "

"What?!" Arthur's head shot up, eyes wide.

"Calm yourself, Kirkland," his boss - rather, his soon-to-be-ex-boss - commanded. He seemed to have cooled down. "It's a promotion. Of a sort."

That made even less sense.

"This department have had their eyes on you for a while now. Ever since you started your work, really. You are amongst our youngest agents, entering at a record of eighteen years old. Frankly, if it didn't run in your family, we would have refused; told you to go to university and get a degree. Now that I think about it, it was because of your brothers - "

Arthur coughed politely. He didn't exactly enjoy discussing his family.

"Right. You are being transferred to the Department of Arcane Paranormal Happenings."

The young agent stared at his boss blankly. He had no idea what that was.

"Honestly, I'm not too fond of this department," he continued. "Too many odd people, and the head of the department is a twat - but we're not here to discuss my opinion about that blockhead. His father is a smart man, and he has literally never been wrong about anything. But still, making that boy the head at age seventeen, that has got to be the stupidest thing anyone can do. Then again, the boy has been doing well so far - "

Arthur coughed politely again.

"My apologies. The Department of Arcane Paranormal Happenings deals with… well, arcane paranormal happenings." His boss frowned. "And… they mentioned another thing… You have... special powers?"

The bushy-browed agent stiffened. He had never mentioned his ability to anyone except his brothers. If you could even call being able to see faeries a special power.

"They told me that you can see things that cannot be seen by anyone else." His boss's frown deepened. "Now, Arthur, you seem like a good lad to me, and you have never seemed odd other than the occasional lapses of attention - which I shall now attribute to you seeing 'things that cannot be seen by anyone else'. So I have to warn you… That department, due to its nature, is extremely dangerous. The agents there deal with things that normal people cannot possibly imagine existing in real life. I once met a former agent of the APH department… He looked like he had been mauled by a bear a thousand times over, even though it must have been thirty years since he retired…" His boss shook his head. "Be careful, Kirkland."

Translations:

Aake mere desi bund chaat (Punjabi)- Kiss my brown ass [no offence to anyone]

Sorry if Arthur was OOC. I'm not used to writing him, and I don't know how to speak like an English person. It'll get better (hopefully) when the canon characters are introduced. All OCs are either only there for a few chapters, or destined for death.
I'm open to suggestions for pairings. I have a few set in my mind, but I don't mind seeing what you guys think~

This plot bunny was driving me crazy, so I gave in to my desires and wrote... this. And it's been a long time since I wrote anything fiction. And I'm procrastinating on my work. /shot

I shall wait patiently for the one review this will lure. Come to me, my pretty...