Chapter One, New York...New York.

There was always some speculation in my mind over whether moving to the big apple was a good idea. There was no way I was going to be able to afford an apartment even relatively close to anything I could brag about like central park, or Times Square. I basically was never going to be that girl in the movies who moved into the cute little studio on her own to begin a new journey amidst the city lights.

No, that just wasn't in my budget. I was the girl who lived above the run-down pizzeria miles away from anything spectacular, with a landlord who hardly spoke English and a neighbor who always seemed to be on something a lot stronger than your average pot, though I was never quite sure what it could've been. He was pretty dazed most of the time though, so developing a life-long friendship with him just didn't seem like it would work out all that well.

It also didn't help I couldn't leave my little studio without being cat-called, even pulled at. One guy even had the nerve to burn my arm with his cigarette one particular night, and only god knows how much I wanted to take that rolled up cig and shove it up you know where. Maybe it'd teach him a lesson or two about messing with women who obviously aren't interested.

So at the age of only twenty I had faced more men's advances than I could count, and my neighbor was living in an altered reality where I'm pretty sure he didn't even know I existed. He also managed to mix up our mail every day, leading me to believe he couldn't even remember his own name.

But hey, at least my apartment always smelled like fresh pizza…right? I mean, I couldn't even wash the smell out of my hair most days.

That was my only plus, except on nights like tonight when the shop was obviously closed, yet voices still drifted up through the vents. Thick Italian voices too, which I didn't mind at first, until it started keeping me awake at night.

Weeks, it had been weeks since the last time I had slept through the night and I was becoming fed up. I tossed and turned in my bed, allowing my eyelids to drift shut only for them to snap open again at the raised voices.

"Damn these Italians." I muttered getting up from my bed, there was no way I was going back to bed now.

With agitation rising in my chest I let my feet guide the way to my front door where my hand hovered over the handle hesitantly. Was I really going to confront them? A bunch of Italian men in the pizza shop just the floor below? I mean, what the hell were they even doing down there?

Taking my hand off the door knob I backed away a bit, leaning against the wall. I was exhausted, letting my eyes fall shut once more to try and gain maybe five seconds of peace.

That of course was only until the yelling began again, and I found myself wide awake once more, brows furrowed already on my way out the door, down the stairs and into the back door that lead into the kitchen.

I only paused my fury filled hunt when I realized I was getting closer to the voices. It was an odd setting, seeing the shop like this at night. Only one stray light was on out in the dining hall setting an eerie feeling over the place and I felt a chill run down my spine.

Slowly I made my way through the kitchen to the swinging doors to try and peer out at the source of my sleepless nights…only to find five men gathered around a table, smoking cigars and apparently playing cards. Their voices were hushed now except for the occasional outburst in their native tongue. I was too focused on their voices and body language to notice the outline of a revolver tucked away behind the man's dress shirt until I had already been standing there a good three minutes.

A sudden realization washed over me, and I knew I shouldn't be here. This looked like a scene from every mafia movie my father ever made me sit through, it was a silly thought but there was a certain truth that came with it.

Feeling my accelerated heart rate I turned to sneak back up to my apartment, maybe find a different way to drown them out. That was before a figure came looming through the back door from the alleyway, lighting a cigarette on his way in.

He was a burly thing, with muscles that made him look like a perfectly sculpted statue. The only thing is he didn't look like he really belonged in the group lingering in the dining all. He was pale, his hair surprisingly light under the little cap he wore, and I could faintly make out a small scar that ran along his cheek.

If I was afraid of the men in the hall, this man was the epitome of a nightmare. He looked like he could snap me in half, seriously, but the funny thing is in all my fear I couldn't bring myself to move from in front of the swinging doors.

I watched him walk closer, and then the fated moment came. I prepared for imminent death.

His eyes met mine with a confused gaze.

"Who the hell are you?" He grunted, his German accent thick as he took a drag from his cigarette as if the situation didn't really phase him.

I don't know where my sudden confidence came from but I wasn't at all grateful for it. "I should be asking you the same thing." I hissed back, trying to keep my voice as quiet as possible.
I watched as something akin to amusement flashed in his eyes. Suddenly he started walking towards me and I couldn't read what he was thinking. All my body told me to do was back the hell up, and back the hell up I did…right into the dining hall.

A smirk flared on his face as he watched me realize my mistake.

"Let's go talk to the boss." He whispered, smirk still evident on his face as he stood over me, taking my arm none to lightly in his grip.

"Hey Lutz, I thought you said you were takin' a leak! Not going out to grab you a city rat!" One man laughed as he watched us draw near, gaining the attention of the others.

"She was in the kitchen." He shot back, with a glare that sent chills down my spine as the room grew silent.

"Well, looks like we've got ourselves a little stow-away boys." A different man said, standing from the table, his back had been turned to be the entire time but something about his voice struck me as familiar.

"This is nothing personal, I just need to know what you heard." His voice was gentler now but I caught the warning in it.

Reaching behind his back to his waistline he pulled the revolver I had seen before, turning fully now to point it at me as he prepared to fire. His hand steady and firm on the gun like he had done this before...many times.

Time seemed to slow down as he trained the gun on me, and our eyes met for the first time.

"Professor Vargas!?"

"Rey!?"

Hey guys! So this story I originally published on my quotev account which is under the same username as this account. I originally wrote it to be a reader insert since Quotev is really popular with those, but I changed the format a touch for fanfiction and created a new OC to fit the story better for this site. Her name is Reyes, but will be constantly referred to throughout the story as Rey.

Let me know what you think! Also Professor Vargas is Rome, and along with Lutz some other 2ps will appear in this story along with the original nations. I've decided to throw them all in together for fun, what could go wrong?!

Leave a review, and (hopefully) see you next chapter! :)