Hey there! This is my first go at fan fiction - I welcome your reviews, in fact, I implore you for them!
Firstly, I don't own Hetalia, etc.
First: See the backstories Mafia and Militar and Going Down and Looking Up; they will explain how things came to be the way they are in 1920 and will give crucial info as the story progresses.
The year is 1920, Feliciano Vargas is at the top of the Mafia's Chicago outfit. He has taken advantage of all the profits to be made in prohibition America. While toasting his successes of the year he gets some disturbing news. With the help of his capo (boss below the don in charge of group of soldiers) and very close friend (and more?) Ludwig, he runs against the burgeoning mob run by a certain dangerous Belorussian and her brothel/speakeasy owning sister. Alfred Jones is the head of the bureau of investigation whose chief concern is combating the Italian mafia, and in his clear cut vigilante mindset he doesn't mind getting his hands dirty and making deals with unsavory characters. Possibly an Ivan Braginski of Russia? A once aristocratic captain who embraced the revolution and is now deep into the construction of the Soviet Union. Things get interesting when Alfred's brother runs into a complicated relationship with Ludwig's. And even more interesting when Ludwig and Feliciano's Yakuza friend Kiku shows up. The only thing that is certain is that in this world of violence and crime, not everyone will come out alive.
Ger/Ita main, Rus/Ame, Pru/Can side, with bits of Aus/Hun and a pairing that will be a surprise later!
AU, human names used.
A chill wind blew past the window of the top story penthouse. A babyfaced brunette sat at his desk enjoying his favorite dish, a heaping plate of spaghetti bolognaise. It was December and this had been a very good year. Prohibition had perhaps been the best thing to happen to him. He happily swirled the long noodles on his fork and prepared to take another bite.
The ringing of the phone broke the peaceful silence. Who had the audacity to call him during lunch? Whoever it was had better have a good reason or they'd be taking a long walk off a short pier. "Ve~ he sighed before picking up the phone.
"Sarebbe meglio che questo sia importante" He spoke into the phone; his voice lighter and softer than the words.
"Forgive me Boss." The messenger spluttered into the phone. Feliciano's face darkened with each word as the unfortunate man relayed his information. When the nervous soldier, who had undoubtedly drawn the shortest straw finished, Feliciano's usually cheerful expression had completely disappeared to be replaced by one of both barely controlled rage and mounting panic. He hung up the phone without saying a word.
The petite Italian clenched and un-clenched his fists. He glanced at his forgotten pasta, the dish represented the delusional thoughts he had had a moment ago. With his financial success had, of course, come more responsibility. Family. His loud mouthed older brother was always causing trouble. In a flash the plate was flung from his desk.
"I'm sorry pasta." He apologized to the mess of noodles, sauce, and ceramic shards that littered the floor and smeared the wall across from him.
What should he do, Feliciano wondered as he paced. His brother Romano was supposed to have met with some new associates, but had never showed. He had last been seen with an unknown woman entering the Gold Star hotel. That sleazy den of booze and prostitution wasn't one of his. What had Romano been doing there?
Feliciano absentmindedly twirled his finger in the signature curl of his hair. Whatever Romano had gotten himself into Feliciano would get him out. He reached for the phone and dialed his best capo. Sure, he wasn't Italian, and that had caused a stir, but he got the job done and no one could argue with his results.
"Hallo" the German's clear voice sounded through the telephone.
"Veh~ Ludwig, I need your talents today." Feliciano flopped down into his leather chair and spun to face the window again, the phone cord wrapping around him.
"Of course!" Ludwig's voice dropped in concern. "Feli," He used the nickname few were allowed to call Don Vargas. "Feli, Vhat has happened? I can hear it in your voice, vhat is it?"
Feliciano repeated the information he had been given as he attempted to untangle himself from the phone cord.
"That hotel is in the Ukrainian part of town! Vhat vas he doing zhere?" Ludwig mused.
"I don't know! Veh~" Feliciano trailed off, retrieving his handgun from the drawer beneath the phone. "But I need to find out. Meet me outside in thirty minutes."
"I vill be zhere in 15." Ludwig answered.
"Arrivederci" Feliciano hung up the phone and smoothing his suit he made sure there were no sauce stains on it. With a last apologetic look toward his wasted pasta, the petite mafioso made for his private stair. He and Ludwig would find his brother and take care of anyone in their way. Feliciano allowed a small smile to lighten his expression. It was always nice to see Ludwig. After they got Romano out of his current troubles he would see if his hardworking capo wanted to go out for dinner. Afterall, he hadn't gotten to finish his lunch.
Forty-five minutes later Feliciano and Ludwig stepped out of the blonde man's Audi parked in the rear of the questionable hotel where Romano had last been seen. The cold wind swirled in the alley as the two men slipped in the back unnoticed.
The tall broad shouldered blonde walked ahead of his shorter companion. They silently made their way through the lounge where girls giggled with their patrons, past the door that led to the speakeasy below. They continued until they neared the door of an office. A gangly man armed with a machete stood guard outside.
Ludwig motioned for Feliciano to stay put out of sight while he took care of the guard.
The German stepped around the corner and before his leading foot hit the ground he shot the guard in the shoulder causing him to drop his weapon. He crossed the hall in seconds and before the gangly man could pick his weapon off the ground, Ludwig had pressed his still smoking pistol against the guard's forehead.
"Now, vhy don't you show me in to the owner of this establishment. Nice und easy, ja?"
Feliciano stepped from around the corner and the guard's eyes widened in recognition.
"D-d-don Vargas! Miss Katyusha - She, she is not in!" The young man squirmed against the door.
"Oh? Ve vill see about that." Ludwig spoke in a low growl before kicking the door in, making the guard jump as the door fell off it's hinges behind him. The office was indeed empty. Ludwig dragged the man inside as Feliciano followed behind him.
The blonde man threw the guard into the empty chair and tied his wrists to the arms then stepped back. Feliciano straightened the cuffs of his dress shirt and approached him.
"You were here earlier today." It was not a question, and the guard struggling in the chair knew it and so did not answer. Feliciano continued walking circles around the man. "You saw my brother. You saw who he was with." He faced the bound man again and leaned in, inwardly relishing his rare height advantage. "Where is he now?"
The man stopped struggling but didn't answer. Feliciano sighed. "Ve~ do not make this harder. It is only business. Answer my questions and we will both be able to have a nice evening." The guard still did not reply. Feliciano looked toward Ludwig who took a step closer. "I really don't enjoy causing pain, but I love my brother. You have one more chance to tell me where he is."
"Veh~ I tried to make this easy for you." He motioned for Ludwig who took his place in front of the guard.
"You vill tell us everything ve vant to know." The guard shook his head, eyes wide. Ludwig continued, his cold blue eyes focused, "You vill." He turned toward Feliciano, "I do not vant to make you lose your appetite Feli."
The boss nodded and stepped outside the door, taking up a place down the hall where he could keep an eye out should the proprietor return.
An hour later Feliciano heard Ludwig's heavy steps behind him. He turned toward the tall blonde with a questioning look. Ludwig was wiping blood from his knuckles with a piece of striped cotton Feliciano recognized as the same pattern as the guard's shirt.
"He is alive. Though it is up to his bosses if he vill stay that vay." Feliciano glanced around Ludwig to the office. The guard was out cold, still tied to the chair, bloodied and bruised, his shirt torn and open. On his chest Ludwig had written the words "I talked" in the man's blood.
As the two men again made their way through the lounge, Ludwig whispered to Feliciano. "Romano vas here, but he didn't come on his own. The guard saw him as Natalya, the owner's sister, brought him in. According to him, she left Romano in a car vhile she spoke vith a government agent." Ludwig continued as they got back in the car, "He overheard the man agreeing to have his boss meet her on the river this evening at 7pm."
Feliciano looked to his watch. They had four hours. He looked up at Ludwig who insisted on driving himself even though he could have had a chauffeur. "Ve~ let's celebrate our new information with sweets!" Was that a sideways smile? The German didn't admit to it often, but Feliciano knew he had a serious sweet tooth. The brunette relaxed in his seat, confident now that they would retrieve his brother and all would be well. His thoughts turned away from business and toward spumoni as they drove downtown to his favorite shop.
As it neared 7 o'clock, a blonde be-speckled man waited aboard his yacht. His thoughts wandered over his predicament as he waited for the woman who had contacted his people at the Bureau of Investigation to show up. Yes, America was a melting-pot, a haven for all those oppressed, a place where one could pull themselves up by their bootstraps, chase the American dream and all that he mused. However, here he was trying to clean up his city, no, his country, and this certain Italian family had come in and made a mockery of the law! They had to go. That's why when he had been told about a foreign woman who said she had something that could eradicate the problem for him Alfred had been too intrigued to turn her down. He hoped it wasn't a trick.
He didn't have to wait long. A small motorboat was approaching; two women, one with long silvery hair, and the other with…well, a very well endowed chest, stood with a blindfolded and gagged brunette man between them.
Alfred went to help the ladies aboard. The long haired one brushed off his attempt and pulled herself up with surprising strength for her small frame, while the other accepted his hand with a smile. Once all were aboard, Alfred gestured toward the cabin and they went inside away from prying eyes.
Once inside, Alfred turned to the women and asked "So, you've got a solution to my crime problem?" The long haired one stood up proudly. "I am Natalya, this is my sister Katyusha. I propose to you, that we help get rid of your Italian troubles." She gestured toward the man slumped in a chair, garbled curse words coming out from around the gag.
"In return, you and your B.O.I see to it that my family is given freedom to establish our own businesses here in your country. We're much, much more polite." She smiled wide and it brought the image of a wolf about to attack his prey to Alfred's mind. His eyes slid to her sister Katyusha who was determinedly looking out the window.
"Uh..huh." Realization dawned on Alfred. "Natalya… you're Ivan Braginski's sisters!" He laughed then and knew what they were getting at. "It's a bit of a difficult time at home right now isn't it?" When neither answered he continued. "Does Ivan even know you're here?" Katyushka looked uncomfortable, Natalya looked murderous.
"I know what is in my big brother's best interests! He's too busy right now to think about the world of opportunities outside Russia." She continued closing the distance between them dangerously. "I know he will want to branch out. He will be glad I am here doing good for him." She sounded completely insane to Alfred who backed up and clearing his throat, changed the subject away from her brother, the man he had met years ago, for so short a time. The man whose file his fingers could find from memory, in the cabinet beside his desk.
"Uh, so you gonna introduce me to your, um, friend?" he asked eying the brunette still blindfolded and gagged in the chair.
"Of course," Natalya said silkily, as she strode behind the chair and in one flourish pulled the blindfold from the man's face.
Romano blinked in the light and staggered a bit, but once he stood upright he continued his string of both Italian and English swearing from around the gag. "I present to you," Natalya continued, "Feliciano Vargas!"
Alfred stood for a moment staring at the scene before him. He had seen way more than he wanted of Feliciano's face. The babyfaced crime boss flaunted his apparent immunity to justice everyday. Each time Alfred had something on him, evidence or a witness would disappear. This man was not Mr. Vargas. Well, at least not that Mr. Vargas. He laughed hard and then seeing the confused look on Natalya's face and the worried one on Katyusha's he wiped the tears from his eyes and resting a hand on Natalya's shoulder, which she quickly brushed away, he said, "Wrong Italian. This is his brother Romano." He turned toward the struggling, cursing brunette with a bright grin, "Right, Romano?"
The elder Vargas brother growled and glared daggers at everyone in the cabin as he continued to attempt to free his hands from behind his back.
At the same moment that Romano struggled, Katyusha looked stricken, Natalya radiated loathing at her mistake, and Alfred wondered whether he ought to keep Romano for questioning or just let him go as a lost cause, shots suddenly rang out across the river.
"Get down!" the American yelled to both women as holes were shot through the side of his yacht. He rushed to pull Katyusha down, shielding her with himself as Natalya ducked behind a chair, already pulling out a pair of daggers,
Romano took his chance, and though his legs were tied at the knees and his wrists behind his back, he staggered stiltedly toward the open window. If he was wrong, and it wasn't his brother, he'd be shot. Luckily for him, the gunfire stopped at his appearance in the window. Looking down into the deck of his little brother's yacht, the mobster tried to grin around the gag and before his captors or the American could stop him, he threw himself head first out the window to flip and land on his back in familiar territory.
Feliciano rushed to his brother as Ludwig gunned the engine and they pulled away leaving nothing but foam and spray in their wake.
End of Ch. 1! I hope it was enjoyable :D
B.O.I = Bureau of Intelligence, the forerunners of the FBI we know today.
Gold Star is the name of a bar in chicago that used to be part of a "hotel of ill repute" and a speakeasy during prohibition. I dont know if it was called gold star back then or not, but it sounds cool so I kept it.
Sarebbe meglio che questo sia importante = This better be important (Italian) Thanks to Piyo13 for the Italian :D You're wonderful! (I have no experience with Italain!)
And, I know the mafia aka Cosa Nostra is a Sicilian organization, but for my purposes we're going with Italy proper. I don't pretend to be an expert in the mafia, I just try to do my research. I'm a psych student, not a criminologist.
TBC, but as I am in grad school I can only promise I'll TRY to make it once every couple weeks, but it may be sporadic, especially around midterms and finals.