Catty: Hey there, guys! You've been real great so far in taking interest in some of my stories and I just wanted to take a moment to thank you all (fu)sososo much!

'Kay, so basically, I've been recently turned onto Romerica because of one of my RP partners and I've always had a thing for Mafia!talia (Pirate!talia, too, but that's not relevant to this particular story. Sorry). Because of that, I've decided to write a little fic.

The main ships will be Romerica and Rusame, but there will also be sideships including but not limited to Fruk, Prucan, Gerita and many others.

Well, thanks, again and enjoy the fic!

The night was a chilly one. Lovino stood outside, a cigarette stuck between his teeth; idly pulling it out, twirling it once and replacing it every once in a while. Lights flashed on the signs from the street, words like Open and Free and Liquor especially doing so.

"Fratello," his brother tugged gently on his sleeve, "I don't think he's coming."

"Oh, he's coming," Lovino assured the other man, brushing him off and tossing his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it, "Don't touch my suit, Feliciano. It's expensive."

"Oh! My apologies." Lovino glanced out of the corner of his eye at the Italian Man. They were both very similar in appearance and many would mistake them for twins - Not surprising since they both shared the chocolate brown hair that never seemed to listen to either of them despite threats, bargains, side deals and even actual murder attempts towards their mops. An identical curl that was most likely genetic separated them from the average Italian citizen and as the Mob bosses they were. Lovino was the eldest and, therefore, the head of business, but their power in practice was usually pretty equal. The only thing that really set the two apart were their personalities. While Feliciano was constantly smiling or fretting over something or just being an adorable little shit, Lovino was the more serious and - as far as he was concerned - more mature of the two.

Just then, a shuffling came from the opposite end of the alley and they both glanced up to see who it was. The man at the head of the procession was a tall danish one, consisting of the most outrageous looking spiked hair and he usually had his signature smirk on his face, but it seemed to be missing now. This was Magnus Densen, the leader of the Northern European mob, The Nordics for shorter. Lovino knew a couple of people who called them the Nordicks and he somehow couldn't bring himself to disagree.

Following him was the four other members of his direct circle. The two brothers, Erik and Lukas, stood together, wearing identical expressions despite the younger's constant protests of acknowledging their relation. The last two were Berwald and Tino. It was the general consensus that they were lovers, though nobody could quite prove it. They both had a kid that they raised together in a cute little house, for fuck's sake. If they weren't together, there was probably a serious amount of No homos that had to be tossed around on a regular basis.

Speaking of the kid, Lovino nodded towards his brother and Feliciano took off, understanding a non-spoken code for what it was. Lovino kept his eyes on the Nordics before him, waiting for one of them to speak up.

"Where is he?" Magnus finally spoke, anger radiating off him. It seems he was reluctant to be here, negotiating with a rival mob, but no man could honestly deny Tino a request when he pulled out the waterworks. Even the police were often forced to let him go with a warning when he produced a few crocodile tears. If Lovino could teach Feliciano to do that, they'd save so much money otherwise used to bribe that damn british fruitcake who was head of the police force downtown.

"He's coming," Lovino answered, "Where's our side of the exchange?" Berwald held up an envelope in one hand.

"Everything we were able to discover about the Russians," The envelope was tossed in his direction and Lovino plucked it out of the air. He pulled open the flap and briefly looked through the contents to make sure it was credible.

"Great," he tucked it under his arm. Feliciano returned then, leading a person shorter than even them and with a bag over their head. They were sniffling and Lovino growled to shut them up. Pulling the bag off revealed blonde hair and frightened blue eyes.

"Peter!" Tino exclaimed, his feet moving towards his precious baby, but he was stopped by Berwald.

"Give us the kid," Magnus ordered, "We kept up our half, you keep yours."

"Gladly. He's a brat, anyways," Lovino agreed and Feliciano pushed him forward, causing the boy who barely looked older than eleven or twelve to stumble. Tino was quick to wrap him up in his arms as soon as he was within reach and they both fell to the ground, sobbing out of relief.

"Mama!" Peter murmured, weakly.

"Shhh. It's alright, Peter. Mama's here," Tino petted his head. Magnus sent them a dirty look, so Berwald pulled them to their feet, an hand on either of their shoulders.

"Well, I think this exchange is just about wrapped up-" Lovino stated, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"I think not," answered a cold voice from behind them. All eyes shifted to the sound of the voice and they were met with cold violet eyes. Several others emerged from the other end of the ally, trapping them.

Lovino cursed under his breath. It was the Russians.

"Get out of here, Braginsky," Lovino commanded, "This exchange has nothing to do with you."

"I think it does," Ivan nodded, "See, those bastards gave you something thing that wasn't theirs to give. I suggest you hand it over."

"What? This?" Lovino snickered, holding up the envelope, "Yeah right. Get lost."

"If you're not willing to hand it over then we will take other measures, da?" his lip curled and a female stepped up beside him. She had blonde hair that travelled freely down to her waist. A knife was clutched in one hand, as if it was some kind of prized possession.

"Can I have the happy one, brother?" she wondered, almost sounding sweet despite her words, "I would love to see how long it takes before he can't cry anymore." Feliciano ducked behind Lovino and even he shivered in terror, but a leader had to keep face and so he did.

"You keep your psychos away from my siblings else I'll have to return the favor," he threatened.

"Feel free, Sister," Ivan said, simply. She grinned and charged forward, knife branded. Lovino expected her to take her straight on and he pulled out his gun to shoot her down, but she kicked it and him out of the way, landing perfectly on the other italian.

"Mmm… How loud do you think you can scream before even the cops can't look away," she trailed a knife across his cheek.

"Fratello!" Feliciano pleaded, tears falling down his face. The Nordics began to back away, not wanting to get into a shuffle with the two most powerful mobs in the city. The Russians were powerful simply by reputation and terror, since several stories existed where they'd brutally murdered those in opposition to them with ease and even a smile, despite their small numbers. The Italians, in comparison, were not so much terrifying themselves as their sections were. For years, they'd been integrating other, smaller groups in - Like some kind of underground Roman Empire. Their most recent addition, the Beilschmidt brothers - were the handy work of none other than Feliciano, himself. The retreating Nordics were stopped by three more men, all holding a choice weapon.

"You do not think I let you off so easy," Ivan crackled, "Getting involved with Italians is bad idea. You should know better, Densen." The four members not busy with a civilian formed a wall against the three of them, realizing they'd probably have to fight after all. Lovino, realizing his brother was stuck beneath the girl with the knife, he rose to his feet to shoot her in the back of the head, but Ivan snuck up behind him, holding his back by the neck with his pipe.

"B-bastard! Lemme go!" he hissed, pulling at the pipe to no avail.

"Say your goodbyes, Vargas," Ivan cooed in his ear, "We're going to bring the Roman Empire crashing to ground once again."

Lovino squirmed a bit, "Over my dead body." He shot Ivan in the foot, distracting the Russian enough to loosen his hold so he could slip away. He turned quickly and shot Ivan in the hand, forcing him to drop his pipe as well. As the female turned at the gunshot, fearing for her brother, Feliciano managed to reveal a gun as well, clipping her in the shoulder and kicking her off, switching places and pounding her face in. She slashed her knife, catching him across the cheek, but he ignored it with only a hiss and knocked it away.

"You shouldn't have come here, Bastard," Lovino smirked, his gun pointed directly at Ivan, "I'mma teach you a lesson about manners you'll never forget."

"As exciting as that sounds," Ivan grinned, showing off the folder like a prize, "I got what I came for. Natasha, let's go." She kicked her attacker off with a foot to the stomach. Grabbing her knife as she went, she buried it Lovino's gun-wielding arm, making him cry out and blood soaked his suit.

"We will see one another, again, Vargas," Ivan sang, taking off with her. The other three men followed along as well, leaving the Nordics panting and momentarily defenseless.

Lovino took away his hand, red dripping from his fingers. Anger flared in his green eyes, which Feliciano could have felt from miles away, "Fratello?"

He hissed and dropped his hand, ignoring the pain in his arm and storming over to the Nordics, ripping Peter away from Toni, who shouted in protest. He pointed his gun at the frightened boy and turned it on the others when they tried to move in to help him.

"Don't you dare. I'll kill you all and him, so help me. Drop your weapons," Lovino threatened, the look in his eyes assuring no funny-business. One by one, they all dropped their weapons.

"Feliciano," Lovino called his brother over. The younger Italian came over, keeping his own weapon trained on them. Lovino turned back to Peter, who was whimpering in fear.

"W-wait!" Magnus yelled, catching the looks the entire group was giving him, "We've got more copies of the info! We'll get it to you!"

"I could care less about the information," Lovino cocked the gun, a single hand holding it steady as he gesticulated with the other, "Consider this compensation for the suit."

A gun shot rang through the night.