The Immigrants. 2p! Russia x Fem America.

Chapter one [The Beginning.}

Sweet, loving memories of his lover were held in his mind. The days of going to the beach, visiting his old home, going on dates together. All of which kept deep into his mind.

She was a beautiful gal, strong, tall, and the type he loved the most. She was talkative, she was good company, and she was a mother, a nurse, a caretaker, a friend, a lover, His lover. She was the best he could ever even think to dream of.

He, just the one who fights for his own freedom within his manipulative mind. Who fights for the longing independence from the abusive people around him. Before he met her, he hated the rest of the world. No one was good at all, they were all murderous rats who wallowed in their own filth. Nothing was good at all from the world he saw through his ruby-red eyes. But my friend, that is in the future. Let us start off with the beginning.

His shoulder-length dark brown hair was pulled up into a messy pony-tail as he worked in the steel factory. His dirtied gloves were thrown off as the whistle for his 30 minute lunch break screamed out. He wiped away the oil and sweat off of his face as he traveled down and out of the working section. Not before showering quickly in the showers the company provided.

His name was Ion Bragninsky. A Russian Immigrant from Moscow, Russia. He was a very strong worker, back home he used to mine in the few coal fields that Russia behold. His brother, the luckier one, Ivan was sent off to his Father. Before moving to America with his mother, his mother and father were divorced. He and his 5 siblings, 4 of which were girls, were split up. His mother was the toughest of the family, and demanded to take all of the girls. But his father shook his head and sadly, had the more power over the mother. He took 2 of the girls, and Ivan. His mother received Ion and the other two sisters. His two sisters were Anastasia and Katja. Anastasia was overly girly, wanting dresses, makeup and to make people 'smile'. This disgusted Ion, there was no happiness in this world what-so-ever. Katja worked as a barmaid. She kept to herself and selfishly kept all of her earnings. For her, life went as she wanted it to. For Anastasia, things were just a game, and she just wanted people to smile. For Ion, life was eat, sleep, work, repeat. Almost only as so. Unless... Unless the Americans wanted to beat him.

As history says, Americans did not treat Immigrants well, and they didn't treat Irish or Russians explicitly well. Ion was almost always in fights because of the factor that his English was very poor, his facial features were very different, and that his attitude was rude. He was very... Into fighting, he won most 2-on-1 fights but then the gangs showed up and he was kicked to the curb. Literally.

He didn't care, as long as he kept some of the money flowing and his mother could be at ease. This was just a small bump in the road. His life was hard, but it was better than the life at home.

His red eyes were set ahead of him as he dried off and left the factory to have his lunch. Typically, Ion didn't eat, but today he was going to work over-time to try and receive a little extra cash. As Ion walked down the cobblestone roads, he approached a small bakery that had been there since he arrived in Russia.

To him, he saw it nothing more than an infestation of his allergy that repelled him for tastier things. Like sweets. But it was the person inside that drew his attention. A Woman, working with bread dough between her hands, kneading and paying attention to the dough. Nothing around the woman distracted her, or disturbed her from the work. Maybe it was the fumes of the steel burning or the time of day, but to Ion, she was beautiful. He swore under his breath in Russian and forced himself inside the Sugar-infested shop.

"Hm...? Oh, hello!" The man behind the counter happily said.

Ion nodded his head and looked at all of the diseased items the little group had. From small cookies, to sweet rolls, to Danishes, to everything under the sun that involved sugar. The bakery probably had. But what he was looking for was most definitely not for sale. His eyes glanced over at the person and watched her for a bit. Finally, she looked up and smiled.