"Vash! We've got everything, we're leaving!"

"Roger." Despite the hailstorm of bullets the Swiss calmly lowered his shotgun and only briefly looked around to see Gust pull Vash's adopted sister, Lili, into the only marginally safer confines of the car.
Charlotte was still taking fire, but made the process short with the enemy gun-man before Vash could even aim at him; Charlotte had been dealing with some family issues only two hours earlier. Vash didn't know any details, but it wasn't uncommon for the Franco-Monegasque's half-brother, the purely French Francis, to bother her with the strangest of things.
As if killing the unknown gun-man wasn't enough, Charlotte proceeded to disgrace the man in his new-found (and unwanted) state of peace by swearing in Italian, her favourite language for said activity.
Vash rolled his eyes and climbed into the car's rear seat; Gust had already ignited the engine and was drumming impatiently on the steering wheel. The Luxembourgish young man was shorter than both Lili and Vash, only Charlotte was shorter, and not by much.

"Hurry, Charlotte!" Lili called nervously as Charlotte walked hurriedly towards the car; her high heels keeping her from running.
When all four were finally in the car Gust stepped down hard on the gas pedal and drove off with a recklessness none of the others had expected from him; Charlotte yelped as she hit her head on the seat in front of her. Usually Vash did all the crazy driving and Gust was the one looking for a barfing bag.

"Gust, slow down!" Lili pleaded, stark white, as they zoomed away, not noticing the two twins watching them leave.

"Ve~! Do you think they'll do?" Being twins (in identical, tailored, expensive-looking suits and mirrored haircuts, to top it all off), they were born the same day, but the speaker's good-natured smile made him look much younger than his scowling brother.

"Hell if I know! Boss would probably have been happy with those idiots we found last month, but the albino creep and the perverted snail were so damn picky! And you, Feliciano!" The scowler turned on his brother, stabbing a finger in his chest. "How fucking stupid are you, accepting to be paid per job instead of per hour? We're in the red this month again!"

Feliciano looked hurt. "But Lovi! He pointed a gun at me!"

'Lovi' blinked. "You never told me that!"

"You never let me," Feliciano muttered.

'Lovi' contemplated this, and quickly decided his brother was too stupid to come up with even such a simple lie, and proceeded to swearing, also in Italian, as he was, in fact, Italian, and his swearwords were much more colourful than little Charlotte's.
Feliciano, accustomed to his brother's frequent and exaggerated outbursts, simply waited until 'Lovi' had depleted his considerable Reserve of Impertinent Words and Frases (or RIWF).

"We have to go report to Boss," Feliciano reminded him gently.

Boss's stupid smile stuck in 'Lovi's' mind, he spat on the ground and growled.

"Bastardo!"

Ooookay… First chapter is kinda short, but I liked this ending (and ran out of imagination).
There will be lots of OOC in this one, I'm afraid, but I hope you can still enjoy it! Inspired by the song MIA by Paperplanes. This fic will have our loveable money-makers in focus, but there will also be Asians, Nordics, and, if I can put my lazy self to work, a lot of OCs.
Is there a particular character YOU would like to see? Send in suggestions, or your own OCs, and what you would like to see them do! No states, mind you, sovereign states, nations and *maybe* micronations only! :D