A slick mixture of sweat and blood trickled down the brunette's face as his breath came out in short, ragged pants. His hand tightened around the gun he held as he peeked around the corner with much caution.

"Come out; come out wherever you are, Vargas scum."

Lovino's scowl deepened further—if that was even possible—as he reloaded his gun and aimed with an eerily professional attitude; as if he did this on a daily basis. His finger curled around the trigger and he pressed down. BANG!—the familiar gunshot was followed by the sound of a lifeless body thumping on the ground made the boy's lips curve up into a sadistic grin. He stayed in his spot for a moment longer, to ensure the death of his newest victim, before staggering up and limping over to the body.

Pity, he thought as he gazed into those void eyes, wiping the blood down his forehead. I really think I could have used him.

Using the wall as support, Lovino limped out of the alleyway and stepped into dark, desolate road. The single streetlight located twenty feet away gave him enough light to notice two things: He could either take fifteen minutes to walk home or he could catch a cab and take four minutes to get there. Lovino was limping, but he was also stubborn. So he walked.

"Ah, Lovi," A sugary sweet voice called out as the Italian man stepped into the mansion. "Your butt always looks so cute in those skinny jeans of yours." The voice said again and Lovino felt a pair of arms circling around his waist and alcohol tinted breath on his neck. With a swift motion, Lovino shoved the man off and did not blink when he crashed on the floor, sprawled in what looked like a rather painful position.

"Fuck off, France." He muttered, taking off his leather jacket and hanging it on the coat stand. A grumble of annoyance escaped his lips as he spotted the blood splatters on his white shirt—a new one. One he got from Spain.

"You've been fighting again," France said, this time the sugary sweetness gone from his voice, replaced by a dull seriousness. "You know Antonio doesn't like your affiliation with the mafia, right?"

"I am well aware," he replied crisply. "And I could not care less." With that he began heading towards the stairs.

"You've been like this since that day, you know." Lovino paused and glanced down at his feet, fists curling. "Since the day he died," France continued. "Since the day your br—" France did not see the fist coming but boy did it hit hard.

"Francis!" Antonio appeared near the entrance and glanced around, alarmed by the deafening crash. "Lovi… what's going on?"

"Oh, I don't know!" Lovino replied, throwing his hands up in the air. "Why don't you ask Francis what he did?" With that said, he stormed upstairs, ignoring the nation's cries to wait.

Upon reaching his room, the first thing he did was strip off his shirt and opened the closet door. Picking out a ratty brown shirt, he slipped it on and slumped onto the bed, closing his eyes.

What felt like a two minute nap was actually a two hour nap and were it not for Antonio slamming the door as he entered, it would have extended into the next day.

"I was cleaning up Francis." Antonio said quietly, sitting down on the bed next to Lovino as he started to sit up. "His hair was a bloody mess."

"He's a nation; he'll heal in two minutes."

"He may be a nation but he still feels pain, Lovi."

Silence.

"He's right though," the Spaniard continued speaking, ignoring Lovino's glare. "You haven't been the same since he died. Lovi… he's gone and if he saw you like this… he'd be hurting. Lovi, please," Antonio reached for his hand and held it. "Please."

"Why the fuck do you have to be so pathetically soft?" A look of hurt crossed the older nation's face but Lovino continued. "It makes me absolutely sick! You're Spain, the great conquistador of a time. Why. Are. You. So. Weak?"

Without another word, Lovino jumped out of bed and ran out of the room, ran out of the house and ran out of the neighborhood.

When he woke up, it was bright. Incredibly, annoyingly and unusually bright. The smell was different too—it did not smell like the trash can he remembered sitting down next to, neither did it smell anything like his house, let alone his room. It smelled fresh, it smelled nice, it smelled like a beach.

What the fuck?

He bolted up and looked around, a panicked frenzy in his eyes as he tried to figure out where the hell he was. He glanced down at himself and observed his attire: He was wearing exactly what he remembered wearing and it was exactly the way he remembered it so he probably hadn't done anything he'd regret.

"¡Capitán! ¡Encontré algo!"

His head swirled to the origin of the voice and his jaw dropped, oh you know, a couple thousand inches. The man walking towards him was, well, different. His skin had a perfect tan; his eyes were a shiny golden and hair, dark, short and spiky.

"Es una persona!" he man shouted back. Lovino began to stand up, desperately thinking about how he was going to explain the situation to this man but before he could move even an inch, there was a sharp blade pointing to his face and the man was hissing, "¡Quédate quieto!"

Swallowing his pride and spit, Lovino raised his arms, in a gesture of surrender.

"¡Alejandro! ¿Qué es?"

If it was, by some miracle, even possible, Lovino's jaw dropped even further at the man who was now heading towards them. He would know thos green eyes anywhere he went, he would recognize those luscious Brown curls even on his death day. He would not, on the other hand, even be able to fathom why the fuck he would be wearing that stupid pirate uniform, especially those incredibly… tight… pants. He felt his mouth go dry.

"Lo llevan."

Then it all went black.

FINE. FINE, I'M DOING IT AGAIN. I'm attempting another multi-chapter fic. This is the prologue, I'm expecting ten more chapters and maaaaaybe an epilogue. Also, I feel like a fucking hyprocrite now. I always complain about how annoying it is when people put a foreign language and here I am, doing it myself. Ha. I swear, I will keep it to a mínimum though. So, without further ado, I present to you, los traducciones!

"¡Capitán! ¡Encontré algo!" – "Captain! I found something!"

"Es una persona!" – "It's a person!"

"¡Alejandro! ¿Qué es?" – "Alejandro! What is it?"

"Lo llevan." – "Take him."

I must say, I'm only taking my second year of Spanish and I'm definitely avoiding any kind of translators so any Spanish help would be deeply appreciated!

Also, expect weekly updates. Or maybe even biweekly for just now since exams are in two weeks. What a bad time to start a new fic, lol.

NO PROMISES ON COMPLETION. ;-;