Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters, which rightfully belong to Hidekaz.
A/N: Hello, and thank you for taking the time to read the prologue of this story. I felt is was about time that I wrote a heterosexual Hetalia fic-no that I have any problems with boyxboy, it's just that I rarely see China portrayed as a man, and it is rather refreshing to shake things up a bit. (and fem Russia is very pretty). So here we have the intro of a new story I've come up with. THIS IS MY FIRST FANFICTION I'VE PUT UP ON HERE, so yeah. Sorry if it sucks.
I will give a brief little summary here below.
29 year old Wang Yao has recently moved to California, United States of America. His profession is coaching young track runners who want to compete internationally and competitively. Being the oldest son in his family, Yao is pressured by family back in Shang Hai to assume the responsibilty of running a large-scale law firm-something he has completely no interest in. Partaking in illegal motorcycle races is a thrill that Yao has learned to embrace since his teen years, and this time around in California, his skills do not go unnoticed.
Yao meets a young woman, Anya Braginskaya, whose lifelong ambition is to figureskate in the future olympics. She is wrapped in beauty and intelligence-hiding the shameful secrets underneath. Can Yao keep on top of everything, or is is too late to slam on the brakes?
AU. main pairing is Chinaxfem!Russia, with USUK and many other pairings on the side.
Without further ado, I will let you read on.
Prologue
So, this was California.
Wang Yao heard the steady thump of his heart. It was a metronome inside his body, pushing against his ribcage. His tongue flicked out to give his chapped lips a tentative lick, tasting of salt and sweat. He focused his eyes on the orange dot of light swinging rapidly back and forth before the white line.
"You sure you wanna do this, old man?"
Yao turned his head to come face to face with a malicious smile. Eyes glinting an unnatural blue hid beneath a pair of shades. He could see toned biceps flexing beneath their tight leather suit.
"Respect your elders. You might last longer that way." Yao replied with an equally acidic grin. He watched as the American's hand tightened on the handlebars, snapping his wrists violently to let his engine purr threateningly.
"Just being polite. Don't want you to break any bones tonight."
"The only bones I'll be breaking tonight are yours."
Yao could feel his opponents eyes boring holes into his temples, but he inhaled deeply and turned his attention on the girl at the start line. Her skirt was indecently short, and he thought he caught a glimpse of her undergarment. Her shirt continued to ride up her stomach as she waved the neon signal to and fro. She was a slut, but undeniably hot at that. Yao felt his fingers gripping his handles harder as the humming of his engine drowned out the excitement of the spectators. A man in a black race suit stepped out from the crowd. He held up his hand.
"On your marks,"
Yao gave his rival one last glance.
"Get set,"
The gravel started to sputter up from the ground. The girl gave Yao a wink.
"Go!"
Down came the orange lights, and with it all the laws Yao had ever known. This was a race. Only the fast could survive.
Urging the motorbike forwards, Yao leaned in, the warm night air whipping his face mercilessly. The beat of his heart was no longer audible, replaced instead by the screaming wind. His sense of smell was null, numbed by adrenaline. From his peripherals, Yao could see the other man tailing right behind him.
Americans were fast.
But he was faster.
Yao licked his lips, as his eyes narrowed in glee while watching his opponent gaining speed to cut him off. His heels dug in further on the pedal as he cranked his speed up another notch. He loved the young racers-they were so full of oblivion; full of sheer, foolish tactics. He loved the young racers, because he loved to break them. Yao leaned in to kiss the tip of the windshield. 'Let's give this westerner a run for his money, Shinatty.'
A sudden burst of power sent Yao's bike veering in a sharp semi-circle around the American's bike. Yao could feel the other physically flinch away from him as their wheels came into a split-second contact. The jolt was enough to leave the American feeling too close for comfort, who stepped slightly on his brakes. After realizing his fatal mistake, he pressed down on the speed dials. It was another fatal error.
Right up ahead, Yao could see a sharp turn, leaving a clean, sharp drop zone. It looked to be a promising cliff, one that someone would not want to test if they valued their lives.
Americans were fast.
But they did not use their brains.
With a swift change of gear, Yao signalled for a right turn. He watched his rear-view mirror. It was like a horror film played in slow motion. The American's bike skipped around uncontrollably, at first. Yao was sure it would crash near the few boulders lining the edge of the road.
He had not taken into account that the bike would make a beeline for the cliff.
Yao felt his skin melting in with his nylon tracksuit. The hammering of his heart drowned everything out as he urgently pulled his bike into a tight U-turn. 'Shit! Shit, shit, shit!'
There was smoke rising from where the other had disappeared. Yao felt a coldness clutching his stomach as he killed his engine and leapt off from the seat. He raced to the edge, thrusting his head over to catch any sign of the American.
"Fuck, help!"
Yao whipped his head around to see an hand clinging onto a lead pipe, sticking out from the side of the cliff. The blond man was hanging dangerously by an arm. An ugly gash on the side of his face was opened, spilling red.
"Don't move!" Yao ordered, inching closer. "Can you get your feet onto the side?"
The American tried, his legs twitching cautiously in a vain effort. "Fuck!"
"Stop moving. Give me your other hand."
"I...I can't!" the American gulped, his voice cracked and shaken. "It's..I think it's broken. I can't feel it!" Oh, the irony.
"Fine then," Yao swallowed back his panic as he shuffled closer. "Don't move. I'm going to grab onto your arm, but I need you to lean in so I can pull you up. If you move your legs the slightest, we will both fall."
Yao was sweating like a waterfall as he reached slowly for the shaking arm. With both hands, he sealed an iron grip on the arm and stole a deep breath. With a sudden, violent motion, he tugged backwards, taking the American by surprise. In the moment, he managed to haul half of his body onto the flat edge surface of the cliff. "I need you to help. Lean in."
The American's body tensed. He slipped back an inch.
"No! Relax! Just let me handle it!" Yao ground his teethe. Fuck, this guy was heavy.
"I'm, I can-"
"Shut up. do as I say." Yao snapped. He tugged harder, until finally two exhausted bodies fell onto their backs by the edge.
There was a long silence filled with frantic gasps and greedy gulps of air. Yao turned to catch blue eyes. "You owe me."
"I guess I do."
Yao pushed off from the ground. "I'm going to strap you onto my back. That's the only way we can get back."
When the other made no complaint, Yao unfastened his belt. He assisted the injured man to his bike before getting on himself and securely fastening the American onto himself.
He liked it like this, when the Americans were silent.
Perhaps this guy was not as bad as he had made him out to be.
"You look like a girl." a hoarse voice told him sheepishly.
Yao realized his hair band has ripped out from all the earlier commotion. He sent a murderous glare at the blond.
Or perhaps not.
"Guess you're tired, eh, aniki?"
The Chinese looked up from polishing the windshield of his beloved motorcycle. He groaned at the sight of his younger cousin, leaning on the parking lot fence.
"Do you need something, Yong Soo?"
"Yeah. You." the Korean winked in reply. Yao rolled his eyes. "But really, I'm here to tell you that one of the important members that organized this race wants to meet you in person. He's fairly impressed by your skill, aniki."
Yao stopped rubbing the shiny glass surface. "And who is this, 'important official?'"
"Iunno. All I know is he's Russian, and looks like he means his shit."
"That helps." Yao grunted. He had raced with many Russians before. Most were all talk, he had discovered, and the only thing they seemed capable of holding down was their vodka.
"But seriously, this guy wants to make some contract with you. I smell some good deals and a shitload of money."
"Tell him I'm not interested." Yao replied. "I am a man who races for pleasure. Not for a profession."
"Well, fine. You continue to have that ten foot pole stuck up your ass." Yong Soo sniffed, standing up straight and shoving his hands into his pockets. "At least come to the after party. We're all gonna grab some booze. And Alfred wants to get to know you more. He wants to thank his, 'knight in shining armour.'
"Americans." Yao scoffed while brushing off his pants. He turned to his cousin. "You go first, I'll be right there."
"Right."
Yong Soo left, whistling an odd little tune as he walked away. Yao heaved a sigh before stretching his limbs. He needed a nice tall glass of cool beer. And a soft leather couch, perhaps a girl to go with it.
"Are you Mr. Yao Wang?"
Turning sharply, Yao caught sight of a stocky man. His face was weathered by time, set into a frigid expression. Dark beady eyes glimmered under the fluorescent light bulbs of the garage, and a thick moustache covered his tight upper lip.
"That would be me." Yao replied with the same cold detachment. He raised an eyebrow warily.
"I'm sorry to intrude on you. But I've been searching for you everywhere." the stiff man continued. "I've been attentive of all your past races, Mr. Wang, and I could not help but notice the extraordinary...talent in which you possess. You've not lost one race in your whole time playing. Not one."
"I do believe that winning is the main point of the races, sir." Yao replied.
"I am Mr. Winter. Head administrator of all the division 3 races." the man said. "I would like to ask if you would be interested in forming a partnership with me."
Yao liked this man. No beating around the bushes-he just cut straight to the point. And likewise, Yao would do the same.
"I'm sorry sir, but my racing is completely recreational. I will not race for any other purposes."
"You have not heard me out entirely. How about we talk this over a nice informal dinner? I have other accommodations that I am sure will suit your tastes."
Yao bit back a sigh. He supposed a little food and wine could do no harm. If he could bag a hot, one nights stand in as well, he would be perfectly content. He had no doubt what this man's 'accommodations' meant. "I supposed I can."
"Perfect. Come, let's discuss of other things," Winter smiled.
The two left the garage and headed into the night.
Please leave some form of feedback, (reviews), and tell me if I should or should not coninue. I update depending on reviews because it motivates me to write for an audience which I know exists. Contructive Criticism is always welcome.
So how was it so far?