Hello, readers of FanFiction! My name is PurpleLuna98, and I would like to welcome you to the story of The Hitwomen! This is my first story on FanFiction, and frankly, it's also my first fanfiction. Please forgive me in advance if I do not keep a regular basis of posting up chapters. I really have never been good with set deadlines.
Edit: I have actually been getting better at posting chapters on time. So if I am a couple days off, I'll make the chapter longer.
Well, enough about me! On with the fanfiction!
Disclaimer: I do not Hetalia or it's characters. However, that would be an awesome birthday present.
Bienne, Switzerland
September 2, 2001
10:05 AM
My target was on the move, currently getting off of his flight from America. He walked out of the city from the airport, since it was right on the edge of town; I trailed him, making sure that no one saw or heard me. I would not mess up this time like I had the last three days; luckily, I hadn't been caught. He stopped and pulled out a cigarette pack. Perfect, just as my leads had said. I quickly ran up behind him while taking out a small handgun. I pointed it at his head.
Except that it wasn't pointed at his head. It was pointed in the bangs of an small Asian man. His face was emotionless. I quickly jumped back, cursing myself as my target turned and saw me. His eyes widened as the Asian man ran at me, taking out a katana. He swung it at me. I blocked it easily with my trench coat sleeve, which was reinforced with a thick fabric.
I jabbed at his midsection, but he twisted and easily dodged. He slashed at me again, but I blocked it with my other sleeve. I jabbed at his head, and he ducked under it, his katana making contact with my sleeve again. This went on for a while: him slashing, me blocking; me jabbing, him dodging. Finally, he made a miscalculation, and I jabbed him in his side. He grunted, kicking his foot out which made me kneel. This was where he got me.
While I was down, he forcefully jabbed the butt of his katana into my scalp. My eyes rolled into my head and I collapsed onto the ground, slowly losing consciousness. Someone walked over and lifted me onto their shoulder.
"Japan, I'll go home and take care of my little stalker. If anyone at the conference asks, please explain it to them for me." The serious voice of my target asked.
"Hai, America-san." The last thing I remember thinking was why they were referring to countries and not using their actual names.
?
?
Around midday
I awoke on my side, lying on a cold, white floor. My hands were cuffed behind my back. I sat up while looking at the room I was in. It was large, considering that I was probably in an interrogation room.
The walls, ceiling, and floors were all bleach-white. Near the center of the room, there was a metal table reinforced to the floor. Two matching chairs were tucked under the table. From where I could see, there were stains of who-knew-what on the table. Lovely.
There was an iron door, the only sign of escape. There were no windows in this room.
All of my special killing equipment and my trechcoat was stripped off of my person. I, yet again, cursed myself for getting captured. Even worse, I had gotten captured by the very person I was hired to kill. The mafia would not be happy if I returned to them. If I returned to them.
Before I could curse myself any more, the iron door opened. A middle-aged American man holding a clipboard swiftly walked into the room, the heavy door closing behind him. He was wearing a United States Marine Corps uniform. By all of the stars and stripes on his uniform, I would guess that he was probably the head investigator. How flattering, sending the top dog to investigate me.
He sat in one metal chair, gesturing to the other. "Please, do take a seat." His tone made the request more of a command.
I stood up, quite gracefully considering the conditions, and indifferently sat in the other chair. He was probably reading the details about me on his papers, so I took the opportunity to wiggle my arms over my head so that my arms would be cuffed in front of me. He didn't even look up once I had finished.
"What do you know about Alfred F. Jones?" I shrugged indifferently to his question.
"I'll ask again, what do you know about Alfred F. Jones?" He asked, looking up at me. Again, I shrugged. He asked again, and I stubbornly answered the same way.
This continued on for another hour, him sometimes changing the question, but my answer was always the same. His patience eventually snapped; I watched with amusement as the full grown American man paced the room, attempting not to lose his temper. However, one look at my smug expression made his old face wrinkle in anger. He stormed out of the room and slammed the door with a BANG.
Another investigator, this time a girl, came in. She eventually was reduced to the same state of the previous inspector. Every time a new investigator came in, I somehow managed to piss them off. Each one took a different amount of time; one investigator took about five hours.
Finally, one man stormed out and left the door slightly ajared. I made no move to escape (I wasn't that stupid), however, I heard him yell: "I can't take it anymore! Call Alfred and demand he take care of this bitch!"
I sighed as someone closed the door behind him. I was not looking forward to facing my former target.
?
?
Around 9:00
I awoke to the heavy iron door opening. I didn't move and kept my eyes closed, attempting to seem asleep in hopes that this might actually come true. It didn't, for a strong hand gripped my shoulder and gently started to shake it.
"Mmm...?" I mumbled, snuggling into my oh-so-very-comfortable arms. The hand shook my shoulder harder. I gave up on blissful sleep and opened my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm up..."
My eyes fully opened just to find sky blue ones hidden behind a set of glasses staring into my brown ones. Alfred stood up properly and smiled down at me. He turned and said something to the guards, and I noticed that the door was open. Too late to notice that, though.
I looked him over as he talked, head still on my arms. He had a tan United States military suit on, (though I couldn't say which part of the military it was from), with a brown tie and white shirt under it. The pants of it were covering the black boots he wore. Over the military uniform, he had on what looked like a brown bomber jacket with black fuzz decorating the neckline. On the jacket, the back had a white "50" on it, the left shoulder had a white army plane, and over the left breast, there was a yellow star in a white circle. The glasses on his face looked out-of-place with his mischievous face and messy blonde hair.
He saw me studying him and smiled, "Do you mind if I ask a few questions?"
I lifted my head and shrugged indifferently. He nodded and closed the door, then walked over to the metal table. He sat at the table and put his black-gloved hands on the table in front of him.
"Do you really want to work for that mafia? Does being a hitwoman entertain you that much?"
The questions caught me completely off guard. I had been staring at a wall to my left, but now I looked at the American's face. His eyes were filled with genuine curiosity.
"It can't be all that awesome killing people on request, so I'm seriously curious to know your answer."
I looked at him. I looked down. "You are indeed correct. It isn't the most pleasant of jobs. But-"
"You own them a huge debt that you cannot repay otherwise?" He asked, one step ahead of me. I openly stared at him. Where was this man getting this much accurate information?
"Sí." I answered him, still awed.
"Look, how'd you like it if I repaid your debt and also paid for you to be let go?" he asked, his face breaking into another smile.
I gaped at him. "I tried to kill you, multiple times in fact, made many of your top investigators storm out of this room like little kids, and now you want to do me a favor?" I wondered if this man was sane. Even if this was genuine pity, did he even know how much my debt was? Or who it had saved?
The American jumped up and gave me a wink and a thumbs up. "Yup! That's what a hero does!"
He slammed his hands down on the table, startling me. "Also, the way you fought Kiku earlier was freaking awesome. It'd be awesome if you'd tag along with me instead of the United States Marines!"
I looked up at his excited face, "Well, I don't-"
"Great! Let's go then!" He cheerily exclaimed. He picked me up and put me over his shoulder.
"What the hell? Put me down!" I yelled, kicking and flailing as best as I could, but it was like he had super-human strength or something. Plus, I still had my handcuffs on, so it was dampening my ability to pummel him.
He walked outside and turned left; he then started walking down the hall. I looked at the guards that were guarding my room. I noticed the Asian man I fought earlier was following us.
Alfred must have known he was following us, because he said to him: "Kiku, how'd you like to come with us to my place?"
So, how did everyone like my first chapter of my first fanfiction? I really hope you liked it. Next chapter will hopefully be up within a week of this weekend, which means either next Saturday or next Sunday. If it isn't, please forgive my lateness.
Please review, I would like to know how everyone feels about this story.
