Author's note:

Omega: Hey guys this is Omega here with a fanfic about my Hetalia OCs: The United States of America! The story will be narrated by New Hampshire, the state I'm from.
New Hampshire: Finally! I was waiting for someone to do a fic about me!
Virginia: Erm… aren't you in a lot of the State fics?
New Hampshire: Yeah, but nobody had the decency to focus one on me. It's almost always about Alaska or Hawaii or the newer states. NH needs some love, people!
California: I love you, Hammy! (Glomps NH)
New Hampshire: Not THAT kind of love!
Omega: …Will you please stop wrestling and do the disclaimer, by chance?
New Hampshire: The author of this story doesn't own Hetalia, only the states and his own messed up mind.
Indiana: (swings by on his whip) ON WITH THE SHOW!

It was another meeting for us, the United States of America, to decide on the matter of foreign relations. However, the events unfolding in the assembly hall hid any indication of a meeting of any sort.

Hello, I'm the State of New Hampshire, otherwise known as Zack Jones. I have reddish-brown hair and sapphire blue eyes. I'm wearing a blue plaid unbuttoned shirt over a white t-shirt with "Live Free Or Die" in blue lettering on it, faded jeans, and Asics shoes with white, blue, gold, and silver details, as well as two black fingerless gloves to represent Manchester. My favorite gun, a SPAS-12 semi-automatic shotgun was propped against my seat as I read. The gun was given to me from Romano Vargas as a gift. He's a nice guy once you get under the tough, bad-mouthed, tomato-chucking exterior.

"The Giants won the Superbowl," I heard an annoying Manhattan-accented voice say, "Suck it, Masshole."

That was New York. He had jet black hair with a red-eyed gaze. He's shorter than most, about 5'8", but he makes up for it with his loud and somewhat erratic behavior. He often wore flashy clothing and jewelry, along with a flat-brimmed Yankees hat. That guy was a real pain in the ass, especially when his teams won something.

New York was bothering Massachusetts, who looked about to take out her bat and beat York to death. Emilia Jones was a woman of average height and build, yet was one of the strongest states in the Union. She wore a Boston Red Sox cap, a Patriots jersey, and grey cargo shorts, and her brown hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and her green orbs narrowed at New York's jibe. Even though I preffered her to York, she still annoyed me to hell.

Mass glared daggers at York, "You take that back, ya frickin' prick!"

"No way. Massh-."

What happened after that I can't recall, but somehow Mass had tackled York and began strangling him, his hat falling off from the violent shaking. New Jersey yelped as the struggle was happening at her feet, accidently kicking New York in the face.

"Ow! Dammit, Megan! Why'd ya have to kick me like a frigging mule!" York yelled, making Jersey squeak, "I'm sorry Albert! Please stop fighting!" Then, as if on its own, the leg began to repeatedly kick and beat York worse than Mass was.

The tan state Nevada just laughed, thoroughly enjoying the sight of York getting beaten to a pulp by women. Being the state that Sin City was located in, Tyler Jones always wore the fashions of the casino people, as well as sandals. New Mexico once spread a rumor that he tried on the woman's dresses, too. Nevada locked himself away in his room for a month when he found out.

I looked over to Ben Jones, the state of Texas. He always wore plaid shirts of any color (Today's was pink), blue jeans, riding boots, and a fedora. A red bandana was wrapped around his neck. He also had a gun, but unlike my awesome shotgun he carried a six-shooter pistol in a holster hooked to his belt.

Texas was getting annoyed by the struggle, and when we exchanged glances, he got the message in my eyes. We pulled out our guns and fired, Texas firing all six of his bullets in quick procession, while I fired three in slower – but louder! - procession.

The effect was immediate; all the states in the crowded conference room stopped what they were doing, even Mass and York were silent. I sat back down and continued reading, mumbling, "deartháireacha dúr." Texas smiled cockily as he holstered his pistol, winking at D.C., "You're all set, partner. Tell us why ya called us in here."

Washington D.C., an average-sized man with no muscle to speak of, took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Yes, thank you Ben and Zack. Now then, let's get this meeting started, shall we?"

Five hours later after listening to every state's news, I yawned and collected my notes as D.C. closed the meeting, and states began leaving the conference room.

"Big brother!," A cheery voice called out and my fatigue melted away as a smile crept to my lips. Walking over was Virginia (Ophelia Jones), a beautiful young woman with soft strawberry blonde hair that fell past her shoulders and crystal blue eyes similar to my own. She wore a long sleeved with a high collared white ruffle blouse, light wash distressed jeans, and black 3 inch heel leather ankle boots. She came up and enveloped me in a hug, and her vanilla-scented perfume caressed my nostrils. On the surface we shared a strong and close older brother-younger sister relationship.

Truth is, I'm actually in love with Ophelia, and who wouldn't? The problem is that I don't act on my feelings because I don't know what her reaction would be. Would she feel disgusted, break off our relationship, laugh me down, or return my affection? It's a gamble, and I've never been much of a gambler, so I don't want to tarnish our closeness on rash decisions.

A warm finger poked at my cheek, and I looked up at Virginia, since she was standing whereas I sat in my seat. She fixed me with a strange look, "Why're you making that face, Zack? It's kinda weird…"

At this I realized I had furrowed my brow and a small frown had replaced my smile, so I shook my head and stood up, taking my papers, "Nothing, sis; just thinking, that's all."

"'Bout what?," She asked, following me out when she grabbed her leather purse. I chuckled and put an arm around her shoulder. "You're very persistent, ya know that? It almost borders on annoyance."

I laughed at the face she made as she yelled, "I'm not annoying, you big goof!"

Omega: So did you like it? Rate and review please, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, and flames are for roasting marshmallows.
New Hampshire: If you have any requests or ideas for the second chapter, include it in the reviews and it may be included in the story!
Omega: That's all!