A/N: There may or may not be any ships, theirs some fluff, some countries may or may not be forgotten, not much description, and everything's in Third Person. Enjoy. OH! And Italy. If you please?
Italy:Baka-Hentai-Nina does not own Hetalia but does own her OC. Now who wants PASTAAA!?
A/N:OH OH OH! ME!
A girl wit choppy, pitch black hair that barely past her shoulders, walked threw an alley. She wore a black shirt with a gray hoodie over and a black leather jacket over that. Her gray faded jeans were loose and the back part of the bottom of them covered the back of her black vans. Her pale gray-white skin glistened in the moonlight; along with her dark cold, piercing, crystal blue eyes. She licked her dead, cold lips.
She sighed from boredom. [There's nothing to do in this town,] she thought to herself.
"GERMANY, HELP!" A voice cried out into the night.
The girl stopped in her tracks. Who was that? Maybe it was just her imagination. She continued to walk until a man into her and they fell fell to the ground; the man on top.
"OW, OW, OW! Your elbow is on my breast and I prefer it not to be there!" She yelled.
"Oh, so sorry!" He cried as he stood up then held out a hand to her to help her up.
She glared then moved it away and stood up then wiped her pants.
"Hello. My name is Ferliciano Vargas, but more people call me Italy," he said all cheerful.
"Good for you," she mumbled silently.
"And you are?"
"Bermuda. . ."
"Oh, what a lovely name!"
She noticed he had short brown hair with a curl on the left side of his head and had matching brown eyes. He had on a blue WWII military uniform, a black shirt, and a tie. He was at an average height for a person. He looked as his age was the early 20s. He was cute, in a way.
[Something is up with him. He's too. . .cheerful,] she thought. Then her eyes widen. [He could be an enemy spy trying to figure out my plans! Or trying to stop them.]
She pulled out a gray pistol, loaded it, and pointed to his head. His eyes widen as she glared.
"Who are you and what do you want?" She growled.
"Drop the veapon," said a low voice with a German accent was heard behind her along with a click that belonged to a gun that was on the back of her head.
Bermuda dropped the her gun to the cold floor and put her hands in the air.
"Good. Now step away from my friend."
"To bad your guard it too low," she smirked then grabbed his arm and flipped him to the ground. The gun slipped out of his hand. She put her knee onto his back with his arm that had the gun in her hand and her other hand pushed his face into the cement.
The man under her seemed to be in surprise and shock at the same time. He had sleek blonde hair and blue eyes. He wore Waffen-SS officers' uniform with a iron cross on the collar.
"Germany!" Italy cried.
"Germany?" Bermuda muttered angrily.
Germany turned around and Bermuda lost balance and fell on him. She lifted her head and shook it slightly then she caught a glimpse of him starring at her in surprise. She pushed herself up and stood up. He stood up as well.
"Italy, you know her?" Germany asked him.
"We just met after I ran into her."
Germany looked at the woman wondering who she was and why she looked familiar.
Italy started to say, "Her name is-"
"Bermuda," she interrupted. She had her arms crossed and was looking away from them.
[Vhy does she look so familiar?] Germany thought silently to himself. Boy was this going to make him mad for not knowing why she reminded him of someone.