Hello! Thank you to all who have read my story so far. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Axis Powers Hetalia does not belong to me.
Running. Gasping. Sweating.
The man didn't even stop to turn as a knife pinned the fabric of his Ralph Lauren blazer, tearing the forest green wallpaper. Dark brown eyes widened, mouth gaping in fear.
No, he wasn't supposed to be like this. He was Benjamin Allcast, the owner of several nuclear oil plants across the oceans and he was supposed to be announcing the creation of weapons at ten o'clock sharp, in the Peninsula Hotel! This wasn't supposed to be happening. This was an illogical act, played by an illogical opponent. Did they really believe that they could take him down-he, who was the king of the nuclear industry in the realm of international business-so easily? Ha! He grinned at the silly, impudent mastermind who thought they could do such a-
"So many things must be running through your mind." He froze, his grin dropping. Footsteps, slow but steady, were approaching where he was pinned against the wall of HIS corporate building, his domain-! He gritted his teeth in frustration.
The owner of the footsteps appeared in the form of an extremely beautiful woman. A long waterfall of pale white hair fell to her waist and slightly bounced backward at her elegant pace. Eyes, blue like the sky, yet piercing like the winter's ice studied his face with a calmness that even he could not comprehend. Her skin, pale as snow, was mostly covered by her black attire-which composed of a long-sleeved jumpsuit, thigh-length tights, and knee-high boots. In her left hand was a pistol, her delicate ivory finger lightly touching the trigger. Her lips, red like bloody rose petals, was pressed into a firm line as she pressed the pistol against his forehead, the sweat falling even quicker.
"Benjamin Allcast, CEO of Aillcast Int. and dealer of illegal nuclear weapons?" The beautiful woman's voice had a slight accent to it-lovely, soft Russian-as he realized that she was not the patient one, pressing the pistol deeper into his scalp.
"Y-yes!" The humiliation! The old man's voice sounded like a frog's croak as he managed to part his trembling lips. She seemed satisfied with his answer, her angelic face slowly turning more pleasant, but her hand did not budge.
"You believe you own everything, don't you? But there's something that you will never have," The tone of her voice became harsher and harsher as her index finger's touch on the trigger became heavier, second by second. Benjamin's eyes rolled back into his head as his scalp was fractured into pieces by the bullet's shell.
Natalya watched, eyes still dull as the body slumped forward and hit the crimson carpet with a thud. It took her a few seconds to tell the blood and the carpet apart.
"Natalya, good work today." A smooth, childish voice came from behind the Belorussian.
"Dear Brother has less to think about now. That is all that matters." She didn't acknowledge her Seychellois teammate as she bent down, and reached into his bloody suit jacket. Angelique gasped, kneeling beside Natalya.
"Something was-"
"Da. This wretched man stole an ID card from Brother's workplace." Card in hand, Natalya stood, sending a condescending glare towards the corpse. Disgusting.
She sneered, sending a kick against its stomach. Again. And again.
Angelique stared with worry from behind the raged woman, who continued on with her meaningless sense of torture. The petite island girl wondered what she was trying to accomplish. After all, the man was already dead. Could it be that Natalya was upset at herself, not the man? For not being able to catch him first, before any of this happened. No one was perfect. No one could always keep anything from happening.
But to Natalya 'Arlovskaya' Braginski, especially if it was about her brother, mistakes were taboo.
A growl of frustration came from Natalya's throat as she sent harder, more painful blows to its body. Motionless. Dead. Ugly. Her ice blue eyes raged with fire as she shrieked, kicking away the bruised and bleeding face from her sight.
It was like a reflection in a mirror.
As she raised her foot again for yet another kick, Angelique's phone rang.
"It's Yao, she wants us to come back." Angelique held the Nokia to her ear as her chocolate eyes focused on her teammate-friend. Natalya was still for a while, then turned, her face void of expression.
"Very well then."
Yao Wang sat crossed-legged on her leather chair, elbow on the armrest as her hand cradled part of her face. Her plump lips were slightly curved into a smile as her underlings entered through the automatic silver door. Untouched, without a single scratch or hair out of place. Her smile widened.
Perfect.
"Yao, the job has been finished. It was boring." Natalya said bleakly. Of course, that meant there wasn't anything to worry about, and the target was easily finished off. She had trained them well, indeed.
"All our targets had connections in the formation of nuclear weapons," Angelique began, toying with her ponytail.
"are they part of an organization or something? Like the mafia?" Yao frowned.
"Perhaps they are. I wouldn't be surprised if they were. What difference would it make? Our client simply said, that whoever is participating in illegal nuclear weapon trafficking in Manhattan is to be eliminated." The Seychellois nodded.
"I see." The Chinese woman noticed the tinge of fear evident in the girl's eyes. Maybe she had seen too much. Angelique was only sixteen, and joined the League because of her knowledge of the surrounding crime organizations throughout the country. The girl tried her best to cover her anxiety and fear of death and destruction by her warm-hearted appeal, and fooled the other members that she could hold her ground easily.
That wasn't at all true.
"The two of you may retire for the day, there's nothing left that needs to be taken care of. Everyone in our suspicion has been rid of." With a professional nod, Yao dismissed the two agents as they left through the titanium door.
Yao folded her hands as she meditated on the events of the League's formation. Her mother, Wang Lin, was seemingly just a wealthy stockbroker who owned an immense wealth and property deeds across the United States. It wasn't until her untimely murder that Yao learned of her hidden occupation as the head of a small group of female assassins known as the International Valkyrie League. She had been so shocked to find such a hideout within a small Art Gallery, run by Monique, who was one of the original few who knew Lin.
Yao only had been nineteen, a genius who graduated from New York University, and thought that she had seen everything about her dear mother. Chocolate brown eyes softened at the remembrance of her mother's weary smile when she was still wedded to that man in Beijing. That man, Wang Zhong, who had abandoned her. Her and herself, who was still a small unknowing girl of eight.
Not only had he left her, but he found interest in another. Another woman, whose beauty was hideous to her mind. Because with that beauty, she had used it to lure Lin's husband away and leave the already broken woman into what seemed to be an unfixable wreck.
Revenge wasn't a good factor. Used by the Mafia, but she was above that. No, he would eventually lead himself to ruin. Just as he thought he had done with Lin.
Again, a smile spread across her lips. The moon outside the clear glass window had newly risen, its light touching the tips of the buildings. It cast a lovely pale glow on her porcelain face, as she brushed back her shoulder-length brown hair.
Grasping the handle of her leather suitcase, she turned off the lights and set the security system. Yawning, she tucked the pistol into the pocket of her grey blazer and shut the door. Yao wondered if Ivan would want stir-fry beef tonight for dinner. Oh, well. He loved whatever she cooked, anyway. Whatever she did or said was completely acceptable to him.
Everything but this hidden life she lived every day, behind his back.
"You're such a loyal wife, Yao! I wish I could always be like that to Roddy, but lots of things are happening, and I can't always do what he thinks is alright. I envy you for that!" Elizabeta, the secretary at the front desk of Braginski Corp. sighed one day as the two women enjoyed their lunch at the local Starbucks across the street.
"It's only because we love each other enough to understand what we're doing is for the other's sake." Lizzy had never seen a love this pure. All the couples she had dawned upon only lusted for physical desire against the other, such beautiful lovers they had been. All the novels she had read were full of passion and longing for the other, and all the movies were the same.
So why...why wasn't it like that with Roddy?
"Yao...have you read any romance novels or watched any lovey-dovey soap operas?" The Chinese laughed, remembering her Ivan's face at the sobbing man over his unrequited love lying motionless on the road, pressed halfway over by a car.
"No, not really. They're not of my interest." No, she didn't want to hurt her husband's reputation by stating his strange fetishes. The Hungarian lady closed her hands around the paper cup of decaf coffee. Her upper lip pressed down.
She had never felt so guilty.
Yao's mind switched back to reality as the engine of her Mercedes-Benz roared to life. As she sped down the ever-bustling streets of Manhattan, she paused at a red light. Leaving her right hand holding the steering wheel, her left reached into her pocket, checking if her pistol was fully loaded. Peripheral vision was a major tool in spotting Mafiosos in large crowds, as a pretty auburn-haired girl made her way absentmindedly down the sidewalk.
She was a pretty little thing, with a smile of warmth and eyes of gold. The waves of her hair reached to her waist, the spring yellow skirt of her dress bouncing as she skipped childishly to wherever she was going. The strange curl attached to the left of her head bobbed up and down at her pace. Such a pretty little thing was the granddaughter of Roma Vargas, the Mafia King of Italy. The Mafia King of the Underworld.
Eyes narrowing, Yao nearly pulled the pistol out until she caught sight of a man, dressed in a pitch black suit from head to toe and sunglasses following her in a steady pace. His curl was to the right, and a prominent frown was on his lips.
They met eye contact for a few seconds until the light turned green.
She tsked as she drove forward, promptly leaving the pistol in its place. Maybe another time.
Her mind drifted back into what was on tonight's menu.
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