Though the Italy brothers are of similar height and look very much alike, you can easily tell them apart by their countenance. Lovino 'Rome' Vargas, the eldest brother, wears a permanent look of displeasure, often breaking into a smirk, but almost never a smile. Though he yelled, cussed, threatened, and got into heated arguments constantly, he is most frightening when he becomes cold and quiet. Those who have the misfortune to truly see his cold anger would take his silence as defeat, and turn their back to leave, only to hear a distinct metallic click and feel an instant of terror before travelling through a haze of agonizing pain and into hospital.
Feliciano 'Venice' Vargas, the second eldest brother, never failed to annoy Lovino, although the two are on good terms. Feliciano is cheerful, adventurous, and loves to play. Often called 'Mr Felici' due to his happy nature, although happy can turn to trigger-happy very fast. Feliciano's smile doesn't ever disappear - it only has varying degrees of brightness. He loves to play innocent, although sometimes it's difficult to tell if that's what he's doing, or he is in fact, an idiot.
The youngest brother, Romeo Vargas, is hardly involved in his brothers' activities, and lives a luxurious life in the town of Seborga near the French border of Italy, and attends a highly prestigious private school. Although still young, he is a charmer of women, and often called the 'Prince of Seborga.' Some joke about Romeo having 'too many Juliets,' but of course the naturally charismatic boy isn't intentionally stringing anyone along... probably.
Feliciano and Lovino have massive influence and several important, ahem, business partners, wrapped around their little fingers. Of those partners, a few of the most important being the elite German spies, Ludwig and Gilbert Beilschmidt, Spanish weapons cartel boss Antonio Carriedo, Belgian drug lord Bella Maes - and subsequently her brother Abel, a Dutch trader with a booming business. Of course, they also had their fair shares of enemies, acquaintances, and allies. And their newest enemies, two Northern Americans named Matthew Williams and Alfred F. Jones, certainly have an interesting track record.
The two are bounty hunters, and work for whoever pays the most money. The half-brothers possess a wide variety of skills, and are masters of acting and disguise; going from being wild shotgunners one moment and sophisticated businessmen the next. They land in Europe under the guise of being tourists, and immediately go to collect their gear, shipped overseas by their contact in the Kingsman Secret Service, Sir Arthur Kirkland.
"Ahh, rainy in England, as usual," Alfred remarks with a wide smile, opening up an umbrella and holding it above Matthew and his own heads. They're travelling light, with only backpacks filled with necessities, until they can get a car.
"Has it ever not been?" Matthew murmurs, consulting a map. "Let's get our stuff, pay Arthur, and start making our way to sunny Italy, eh?"
"Aight," Alfred agrees, flagging down a taxi. The taxi driver tries to make small talk as he drives them towards their destination, but quickly regrets his attempt at conversation when Alfred begins blathering in his loud, American accent about everything and anything, while Matthew smiles politely and offers the driver an apologetic look.
The taxi drops them off at the harbor where the rain is but a drizzle, and pulls away, disappearing down the road. They duck into a small cafe, wiping droplets of rain off their glasses, and approaching the solitary staff member behind the coffee counter.
"Slow day, eh?" Matthew greets the young woman.
"Yep," she replies without interest.
"We're here to see your boss," Matthew continues.
"He's not in," she replies automatically.
"We're his friends, and-" Matthew is cut off as Alfred shoves his way in front of his brother with a bright, all-American smile.
"That asshole is upstairs drinking tea in that nice little office you have up there," Alfred says, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Y'know, the one with the abstract paintings and that hideous green chaise lounge. Yeah, we know he's in and he has our stuff, so hand over the key already."
The woman pauses briefly, and without a change in her neutral expression, reaches under the counter and retrieves a key card, and hands it over.
Alfred takes it triumphantly, marching off towards the 'STAFF ONLY' door, while Matthew thanks the woman and hurries after him. They march up a wooden spiral staircase and Alfred busts open the heavy office door with a loud, "WHAT'S UP, MOTHERFUCKER!"
Arthur flinches at the sudden loud noise and intrusion, tea spilling from his cup onto his black leather gloves.
"Fucking hell," he swears, lowering the teacup onto his desk and removing his gloves. He remains seated as he glares intimidatingly at Alfred. "Always such a pleasure to receive your greetings, Alfred."
"Hi, it's been a while," Matthew smiles, closing the door softly behind him.
"Hello, Matthew," Arthur nods at him. "Your things are in the suitcases over there. I have the keys to a grey Mercedes you can borrow for your... trip." He holds up a set of silver and black car keys. "It's in the parking lot."
"Thanks, bro," Alfred grins, reaching for the keys.
The Englishman jerks them back, out of his reach. "It's only polite for you to give me my money first."
Alfred rolls his eyes, but produces several wads of cash from his backpack and places them on the desk. Arthur smiles, and slides the keys across to Alfred.
"Alrighty, let's go!" Alfred cheers with enthusiasm, effortlessly lifting the majority of the suitcases into his arms. "Come on, Mattie!"
Matthew retrieves the remaining two suitcases and carries them away. "Thanks, Arthur."
"Have fun, boys," Arthur waves at them, returning to his tea.
Meanwhile, in a certain undisclosed location near Milan, Lovino Vargas is meeting up with his French informant, Francis Bonnefoy. The two have a strained, unpleasant relationship, so Bella's boyfriend, a Swiss mercenary named Vash, is there to mediate.
"I'm afraid to inform you that someone, or perhaps more than one someone, appears to be targeting your brother," Francis says, drawing out the sentence between sips of wine.
"Who is?" Lovino asks in a controlled voice, quelling the urge to crush the stem of the wineglass between his fingers.
"Well," Francis begins, pausing again. "They're foreigners, with no connection to me... but apparently very good friend's of Arthur's, and you know I'm all about anything that will make that man choke on his tea."
"Who are they?" Lovino reiterates, glancing at Vash standing stone-faced, rifle in hand.
Francis smiles, sliding two photographs across the table. "They're bounty hunters from North America. Half-brothers. The one with the longer hair is Matthew Williams. The other is Alfred Jones. They look alike, don't they?"
Lovino gazes down, studying the pictures with hostile hazel eyes. "I don't care. Why are they after Feli?"
"Oh my," Francis places a hand on his cheek, feigning surprise. "I did not say they are after Feliciano."
Lovino stiffens, looking up to stare at Francis with sudden realization. His eyes narrow, his irises taking on a dangerous amber tint. "Why the fuck are they after Romeo?! Who hired them!? Tell me now, or God help me, I will strangle you with your own necktie, you bastard!"
"You really want to know, don't you? Perhaps now is a good time to negotiate the price of my information, hm?"
Lovino stands up and throws his glass of wine at Francis, but the Frenchman moves, and the glass shatters against the wall, dark red splattering and staining the surface.
Vash immediately draws his rifle. "Calm yourself, Vargas!"
Lovino forces himself to sit back down, his clenched fists shaking and his glare murderous. Francis smirks.
"And you!" Vash commands, pointing his rifle at Francis. "Wipe that smile off your face! Don't provoke him!"
Francis raises his hands in surrender, and having had his fun, gets down to business. "I don't know who hired them, or where they got the intel on Romeo, but they are landing in England as we speak, and they have quite an arsenal with them. They're experienced, Lovino. You should act quickly."
Lovino is already on the phone, speed dialing Feliciano.
"Feli," he says with urgency, "Get on your jet and head for Seborga now. Bring a security team with you, I'll meet you there. Romeo's in danger."
