I do not own Hetalia

The 1920's also known as the Roaring Twenties and the beginning of real organized crime in America. The most famous criminal being the infamous Al Capone a man who ran the Chicago underworld.

Oh course the Chicago mafia wasn't anywhere nearly good as the Italian mafia, thought Italy. Or more commonly known to his underlings as Feliciano Vargas, the Italian Mafia's head bossman. Tipping his hat to a pair of lovely ladies he turned his attention to the small town around him. The small Indiana town was rather well known to be the drop off and pick up point for many of Al Capone's more lucrative 'buisnesses'. Including bootlegging.

Feli might have been a complete coward in the Great War but this was different. He had respect, fear and more wealth than many of his bosses had ever amassed. His amber eyes flicked to the two men who had followed him from the train station. Of course Al Capone wouldn't want an Italian Mob boss running loose in one of his cities. Tipping his fedora to them he slid into a tiny little diner and sat at the counter.

"Where-a can I-a get a nice-a hotel-a room," he asked the man behind the counter and the man stopped when he heard him.

"Are you Italian or something european?" The big man grunted and Feli felt a flash of annoyance, fingering his favorite blade he nodded, eyes glinting dangerously. The man didn't notice, either he was very stupid or very brave, possibly both.

"I'm-a from Italy," he answered, bringing his knife into full view, glaring.

"If ya want something really nice I'd reccomend Chicago, but if ya want something a little more rustic Grandmother Rose usually has a little extra room for tierd travellers. Can I get you something?" Italy looked at the menu for a moment and shrugged.

"A coffee, and-a hurry."

"Sure , sure, what brings you to small town USA?" he asked, pouring the coffee in to a rather suspicious mug.

"Buisness." Snapped Italy, still fingering his knife and glaring.

"Sorry about that, I can't find my glasses at the moment, can't see to well," said the cashier and Italy nodded, finally storing his knife away.

"It's-a no problem, how do I-a get to this-a Grandmother Rose's place?" He sipped his coffee and grimaced, after years of Euro's best coffee small town America might have been to much for him.

"It's a little ways out of town, not to difficult if ya don't mind a little dust and ya don't have that much luggage. In fact I'll ask my little friend to take you there. She'll be in soon."

Italy sighed in annoyance but there was little he could do, especially since he wanted to get in and out of the country without being sighted for murder. The back door slammed opened and he heard someone shout.

"SAM! We've got some new material, come back and see these!"

"Alright Nora, just take up the front for me."

"Sure thing." A very pretty walked in, Italy sat up straighter and gave her one of his most disarming smiles. As soon as she saw him the American turned a splendid shade of red and took an unconcious step back. The girl couldn't have been a month over sixteen but she was still very pretty and if Feli didn't know what beauty was his name wasn't Italy.

'Ciao bella," he almost purred and she gave a weak smile.

"Um, hello, is there anything you need?" She asked, leaning back.

"Just the company of a very beautiful lady," he winked and the girl looked very uncomfortable. "Actually," he returned to all seriousness, "I need to be taken to Grandmother Rose's house. Sam said you could take me?"

"Sure," she looked very relived that the flirtatious glint in his eyes was gone, "If your ready to go?"

"Sure," he put a 50 cent piece on the counter and hopped off the stool, "Lets go."

Grandmother Rose turned out to a be an acient old woman who remember almost every detail of the Civil War, and took a malicious glee of spouting horrible, bloody stories at random moments in the conversation. Italy thought that if she wan't so old she'd make a wonderful mob boss.

"And then I had shoot him in the face, such a tragedy," she giggled, showing Italy into his room, the girl, whose name he had yet to learn, facepalming in embarassment.

"If you plan on bringing home girls just let me know, I'll set up something special," she winked and Italy decided he liked this America immensly.

"Si, I'll-a tell you."

As she wandered downstairs he heard her mutter about, "Grogeous Italian men she'd had the pleasure of bedding in her younger days."

Italy set down his suitcase and violin case and pulled out his beloved instrument, putting the bow to string he began to formulate a plan for later that evening.

Several hours later he made his way down the stairs, a brand new suit on, shoes polished, hair combed and hat perched jauntily on his auburn hair.

"Grandma Rose-a, how do I-a look?" He asked, spreading his arms out to give her a better look. She whistled and grinned lavaciously.

"If only I were about 70 years younger, If only." she muttered and turned back to her book. Taking that as a compliment his picked up her abandoned car keys on the table and left.

Aftera short drive into town he found the place he was looking for. A large party, thrown by the mayor, was taking up a splendid dance floor and rather large gathering place. Beautiful women were milling about, drinking and trying to find the most attractive man for the night. Ignoring the come hither looks from all around he settled hi eyes on the man he needed to speak to.

"Signor Capone," he whispered, setting a large knife on the mans spine after having followed him into a back room, "Lets talk." For once the infamous gangster seemed to bet aken aback. Feli was about to force the man to talk when the cold heavy weight of a gun settled on his own spine. Italy gave a ferocious grin and whirled about, drawing his own weapon to face his attaker.

It was the same teenage girl from eariler, her blond hair had been bobbed and her blue eyes accented. A slinky red dress with a slit almost to her thight was draped over her curves. She didn't look 16 anymore, she looked 20. Her ruby red lips, in contrast to her sparkling pearl teeth, were bared in a wicked grin.

"It seems we meet again Signor Vargas, and this time under much less pleasent circumstances."

Italy gave an equally wicked grin, putting his hands up in the air and taking a few steps back.

"I never did catch your name bella," he said, hand inching slowly for hs knife.

"Call me Indiana Jones," she said, "and I'm a lot older than you think."

"Well Signora Jones, you look lovely in that dress, what is your job in all of this?" He gestured around the room, several of Al Capone's bodyguards were watching the show with confusion and interest.

"Assasin, bodyguard, I'm whatever I need to be," she smiled wider and Italy felt a shiver of power radiate from her. One similair to that of a nation, but a little less powerful. This confused him but he decided to think on it later.

"I suppose, but we could use your talents in Italy, care to join us?" Al Capon's eyes were darting between the two, sweat beading at his brow.

" 'friad not Mr. Vargas, you see. Mr. Capone here is pretty powerful and I like having power."

"Mafia's fall everyday, how long do you think he'll last?"

"Granted, not much longer but bosses come and go every year or so. I'm not worried." Indiana licked her lips and Italy made his move. Quick as lightening he moved past her gun, drew his knife and pulling her against his chest, pressed the knife against her pale throat. There was silence as nieth combatant moved, although it was hard to with a viciously sharp blade to her throat.

"You move pretty fast," she said. Italy was pretty surprised she wasn't panicky, "for an ancient." She said this so quietly so only Italy could hear her. Hissing in surprise he took a step away and glowered at her. Gripping her arm he pulled her close again, "Where did you hear that," he tightened his already bruising grip but she didn't even whimper.

"I'm a state, why wouldn't I hear of you?" Italy felt his brain spinning but kept a grip on her arm.

"Well Signora, let's go out and dance." He hissed, not so much asking but ordering. Both gave a confused Al Capone a blinding smile and holding knives to each others waist, hidden from onlookers.

As soon as they reach the dance floor Italy whirled her to face him and yanked her agasint his chest, squeezing her wrist in a violent manner sure to leave a bruise.

'Explain," he ordered, amber eyes flashing. For the first time Indiana looked unsure but he lossened in his grip and leaned against him, prompting him to realese his painful grip.

'My father is America, I am Indiana, is there anything else?"she asked playful, whispering it into his ear.

"You can't be over 100 years old." He said, smirking rather meanly.

Indy pouted and looked up at him through thick black lashes," actually I'm 108, I'll be 109 in a few months."

Italy twirled her and pulled her back, "You are still a child, not a child. A baby." Indy sighed as they moved past a few dancers, "At the rate we're going, age won't make that much of a difference."

Italy nodded, but caught sight of the henchmen Al Capone had set up around the room.

"Your-a boss, is-a watching us."

"I know." Italy finally let her go and took her hand. Kissing it he said, "I guess that I'll see you later."

"Perhaps." A smile graced her lips as he walked away, weaving in and out of the crowd, just as he was about to leave through the open door he turned around, tipped his hat and winked a single amber orb. Indiana smiled and turned the other direction, heading toward the backdoor. In moment her father would arrive, trying once again to nab the Chicago mob boss, unfotunatly she wasn't going to be there. Pulling her wrap over her shoulders, Indiana ducked out the door and waited for the valet to bring her car.

Several days later found Italy touching down in Rome, Romano was waiting for him.

"Eh, did-a you get- a the information?" Demanded Romano, munching angrily on a tomato.

"Si," Feli's mind wandered back to the young state, wondering if they would ever meet again.

Present Day

The meeting in Rome went badly, as the world meetings were wont to do. Germany ended up breaking the meeting up early, hopefully so the nations could get work done over lunch. Italy bounced around Germany, giggling madly and hugging him. The moment he was about to ask about lunch he saw an image right out of a history book. The blond haired state was leaning against a shop counter, wearing not the red dress from last time but a black and red suit. She wore a lovely black jacket over red button up, tucked into a pair of black pinstrip pants. Her shoes her two inch and a shiny black. Perched on her bobbed hair was a black fedora, Indiana Jones was in Rome, looking exactly the same as when she had run along side Al Capone. Germany was saying something and Japan must have looked concerned but Italy only saw his old friend. Indiana shot him a cheeky grin, tipped her hat and disappeared into the crowd Italy was frozen for a moment but broke his daze and sprinted to the stall. His allies hot on his heels. Frantically he looked around, she was gone but on the stalls counter was an America quarter. An Indiana state quarter to be exact.

The sight of his old rival must have dredged up some old feeling because when they got back to the house Germany sat him down on the couch.

"What happened? Did you see something, are you sick, should I get a doctor?" Italy blinked out of his daze and gazed into Germany's blue eyes.

Germany took a sudden step back from the Italian, Italy's amber gaze was laden with lust, desire and a tinge of something Germany really didn't want to know.

"Uhh, Italy?"

Germany poked him hesitantly in the cheek, "Are you okay?" Before he could even blink twice Italy had gabbed him by the tie and tossed him on the couch. Germany floundered as Italy crawled on top of him.

" Err, Italy?" Germany said cautiously, blinking rapidly as Italy pinned his wrists to the couch above his head.

"Do you want to know what I saw in the market, Luddy?" Italy purred bringing thier faces close together.

"Not anymore." stuttered Germany, not liking where this was going. Even with all of his strength Germany couldn't seem to muster the muscule to toss the suddenly vivatious Italian off.

"I saw a part of my past, a very small glimpse of my very powerful past. I saw the age when everyone in the underworld cowered at my name. I saw the time when I was the king, and the nations of the world bowed before me." Italy tightened his grip on Germany's wrists and Germany gave an uncharacteristic whimper. It was exactly the wrong thing to do, for Italy took this as an oppertunity to ensnare Germany's lips into a rather sudden a slightly violent kiss.

Germany's eyes popped open as Italy kissed him. Italy was growling and Germany was definetly wasn't going to let the tiny Italian manhandle him. Flipping thier positions they fell to the floor and Germany pinned him to the floor.

"Oh? Are you will to play?" Italy purred. Germany didn't speak, he didn't need to.

Japan poked his head into the living, bearing the tea Germany had asked for for Italy. For a second he was frozen but then he pulled his head back out. Blinking rapiedly he tried to surpress the sudden nose bleed, dialing up Hungary he waited breathlessly as she answered.

"Ja?"

"Hungary-san, It seems that Italy and Germany- san have finally realized thier attraction." He reported. Hungary crowed with joy of victory and there were several thumping noises from the other side of the phone.

"Be sure to get lots of pictures," she sqealed and hung up. Japan nodded to no one and pulling a camera out of no where, got to work