Finland always had excellent vision – by the age of 6 he was already an expert with any toy gun within reach. His parents would boast to everyone within earshot that their son would be a great hunter when he grew up – and it wasn't far from the truth.

Except it wasn't animals Tino ended up hunting – but people.

Both his parents were avid hunters, his father was even the Finnish gold champion at target shooting several years in a row – so it was to no surprise to anyone that the smiling Finn grew up to be an excellent marksman.

Cross bows, bows and arrow, shot guns, pistols – you name the weapon and Tino could master it.

However, his life took a turn for the worse at the age of 14 when his parents disappeared one night – only to be found frozen to death in the woods a week later.

Tino was devastated and he swore revenge.

The police told him it was a simply accident of misfortune – but Tino never believed the adults. His parents were seasoned hunters, no way would they go out in the forest without telling him – nor would they die of something so simple as hypothermia.

He swore to find the culprit and make them pay.

And sure enough – two years later he found the man responsible and with no remorse or the slightest flinch: Tino shot him.

The man was declared dead the next day – the newspaper reported it as an accident.

Supposedly the man had been drunk and tripped while trying to hang his gun back on the wall – but Tino knew the truth and would smile secretly every time the story came up again.

Since then things spiraled downwards – or upwards depending on how one saw it.

The young Finn quickly took the code-name 'Finland' and offered his mercenary serviced to anyone with enough money.

He was perfect for the job – no one expected a young man of 16 to be a killer.

Not that Tino ever categorised himself as that – he only took jobs where he thought the victim was better off dead than alive.

Petty things like a rowdy divorce or arguments over a small sum of money never interested him.

But criminals out of prison due to good behaviour – after having killed many people: those missions he took with ease.

A well aimed shot to a bankers head wasn't out of his expertise either – providing the bastard was doing something Tino generally didn't think bankers should be doing.

He didn't consider himself an evil man – he was making a living; and a good one at that. It was almost surprising how much some people were willing to pay to be rid of a certain 'pest' in their lives.

It wasn't until he met Basch in the year of his seventeenth birthday that the young Finnish man truly realised what he was doing.

The two had been hired to take out one another by the same man – but Basch found it a little strange that someone as young looking as Finland would be the enemy the gangster had made him out to be.

The two gun experts had used up all their ammo before they managed to realise they had been hired to take out one another.

"Germanics hu?" Finland asked as he titled his head to one side, looking at the older blonde with genuine curiosity in his eyes.

"Well...I'm not with them any more..." Basch frowned at the memory and glanced worryingly at his watch – he had to get home soon to look after Anni.

One did not leave a two year old in the care of a baby sitter for longer than one night – plus the Swiss male was never sure who to trust.

"I've never heard of anyone allowed to leave a family..." The Finnish male mused – mostly to himself. It was the reason he worked on his own – other people was only a hassle and someone who could potentially be used against oneself.

"It's not forever..." Basch explained carefully – taking great care not to reveal anything about Anni or even her existence.

"eventually I have to return."

"Really? When is that then?"

Basch counted in his head before replying "Roughly sixteen years."

"That's quite a few years of working on your own." Finland scratched his head before finding his trusty hip-flask full of vodka – offering it to the elder male with a smile.

"Not enough." Basch replied bitterly as he took the hip flaks – taking a large gulp of the clear liquid before handing it back to Finland.

"Sounds as if you're hiding something" the Nordic man eyed the other with suspicion – he hated secrets.

"I have something to protect – and I will protect it with my very life..." The determined look in the Swiss man's eyes told Finland all he needed to know. It also told him not to ask further questions on the subject.

The two parted as equals – and only bumped into one another on occasional mission and for the odd drink or two (although Basch had to buy most of the drinks as no one ever wanted to serve someone as young looking as Finland – something that annoyed the Finnish much more than he had liked to admit)

As for why he ended up seeking help from Sweden and eventually refugee at Denmark's house?

Finland likes being on his own – he never denied that. But as Russia got a bigger and bigger grip on the city, it became increasingly difficult for the young male to get any jobs at all.

I had been a tough bullet to bite to ask Sweden for help – and an even tougher one to finally admit he needed to join a family.

Tino's first choice had initially been Russia's family. His childhood friend had been recruited into the Soviet's quite early on in their careers. But after a secret phone-calls and a few e-mails exchanged Tino realised bowing down to Russia would certainly only mean death to him.

Financial death at least.

His first month in the Nordic household had been a true trial.

Sure: he was used to Sweden and his intimidating glare – but he was not used to seeing said nordic early in the morning, half dressed and half asleep.

Nor was he prepared for the incredibly odd placed he would find Denmark asleep in.

Strangest of places being the pantry – the large male curled up on the floor (halfway under one the bottom shelf mind you) and using a bag of flour as a pillow.

Actually, the most reoccurring place to find Denmark was the bathtub. Finland never did understand how their leader ended up asleep in such strange places – but none of the others ever offered any kind of helpful hints.

Apart from the young Iceland. Who quietly whispered once day that uncle Denmark snored a lot.

Finland decided never to bring up the issue again.

But despite all that, Tino found it a lot nicer than expected. They had a firing range in the basement and his own room was eventually fitted with a hidden wardrobe – specifically designed to store firearms or any kind, sort and size. (Curtsey of Sweden)

the only thing Tino was not at all prepared for and truly struggled to wrap his head around was how often Denmark and Sweden got into meaningless fights.

The simplest of comments could set the other off – and before Tino or Erik could blink the two were at one another's throats.

Disregarding the fact that a young child was usually present during their idiotic brawls it usually took both Norway and Finland's efforts combine to pull the two men apart.

Tino for his part, could not understand it at all.

"All they do is fight!" he exclaimed before singing down in his barstool next to Estonia.

The Soviet hacker placed a comforting hand on Finland's shoulder and slid another glass of beer his way.

"I don't understand it at all...and Norway is no help either! He usually just sits there and lets them beat the hell out of each other" Tino huffed angrily and drank half the beer in one go, placing the glass back down with a loud clunk.

"The way I see it, you'll only get hurt yourself if you try to interfere" Eduard helpfully offered as he gave his old friend a look of pity.

"but how can they enjoy beating each other up every single day?" Tino frowned and quickly drank the rest of his beer – out of them all the shorter blonde could hold his alcohol the best – a fact they had figured out when Denmark had randomly challenged them all to a drinking competition. Norway being exempt since he had to read Iceland a bedtime story (although the cold Nordic male did manage to down a few glasses of cognac before he excused himself)

Eduard sighed and ordered them both a bottle of vodka to share. "They haven't been in this business as long as us – sooner or later they'll realise fighting each other is a waste of precious energy and tim-"

"No no, you don't understand," Finland cut Estonia of with a wave of his hand "Both of them were in the army, and according to Norway they did exactly the same thing!"

"Oh" was all Estonia could think of replying – Finland sure had found himself some truly frightening family members. Perhaps not quite as scary as Russia, but terrifying in a completely different way. Russia intimidated most people, but could still fool you into a false sense of security with his soft voice and warm smile.

The Nordics were a bunch of icicles and snow storms. Not exactly someone you'd what to ever encounter on your own.

"My life sucks" Finland mumbled as he rested his head on the bar's counter.

"Excuse me, head off the table – I just cleaned there."

Finland jerked up as a wet towel connected with the back of his head.

"Leave him be Poland, he's had a rough month."

"Oh boo-ho. Grow a pair and stand up for yourself." the Polish bar-owner retorted in a mocking tone – clearly not impressed with either of them.

Estonia tried to think of a witty reply – but seeing as outside of France's palace Poland was the only one with a 'neutral' bar open to everyone with money and not looking for a fight. How the blonde male managed to keep his neutrality in such a dark city was beyond comprehension – but it worked.

"Seriously, you should just come work for me. I have these fabulous uniforms for the two of you to we-"

"No thank you." Estonia cut in before Poland could even begin to describe or – god forbid – model the uniforms.

"We'll manage on our thank you" Finland politely responded as he poured himself a glass of vodka.

"There is no way he's sane" Finland whispered to Estonia once Poland was out of earshot.

"Is anyone in this city sane?" Eduard mumbled as he swirled the clear liquid around his glass.

Finland could only mumble in agreement.

No one was sane in this business

If you claimed to be sane you were either delusional or lying. The underworld always claimed a sacrifice. Be it your sanity, your purity or your humanity – something had to be offered to ensure survival in the murky depth of the city.


A.N:

Struggled to write this one, but hopefully Tino is bad-ass enough for everyone's liking 8D
and Estonia needs more love as Finland's BFF – it's canon Bl