He was walking to a world meeting when a sharp pain erupted in his neck, and he felt a small object lodged in there. His eyes widened and his systems flooded with adrenaline. Before he could move, two men dressed in black tried to subdue him, but he knocked them aside easily. He pulled the object from his neck.
A dart. He spun around angrily. Pain erupted in his back, and his shoulder. Then he was out.
They were still waiting for America. Britain shifted in his seat. What was with him? He had been looking forward to this one for a while now. Finally, Germany took the floor. "We'll have to start without him if he doesn't get here soon," he said. He looked at Canada. "Can you call him?" He nodded, and started dialing his number in the cell phone.
He put it on speaker and they waited. But it went to voicemail. "Well, zat's odd," France said, "Amerique usually picks up." Britain shifted. Yes, usually he did. Everyone frowned. "Wasn't he looking forward to this," someone asked. Russia nodded. "Da, he was."
Then there was the next question. Where was he?
Canada and Britain went. They were only walking to the car when Britain spotted something. It was brown and leathery. He knelt, and picked it up. It was definitely leather. There was fuzz on the side, like the collar of America's bomber jacket. He had a sickening feeling in his stomach.
"Canada," he called. But he didn't recieve an answer. He turned to see the Canadian picking up something. He walked over, leather piece in hand. They both looked at the shiny object in Canada's hands. It was a dart. Canada saw the piece of leather and he gasped softly.
America's head was swimming. He tried to look at the ceiling without it swimming. He tried to move a little, but heavy metal chains stopped him. His jaw hurt, tape was over his mouth, and he was a little sore, but he was determined to get out. He tried sitting up, and he found his ankles were chained as well, and he was also on the floor of a van.
He struggled, making the chains clink and bang together. A blow hit his ribs, and he curled into a ball. He decided to wait until he gained more strength, and when he had the element of surprise.
They were turning to go back inside, but a van sped up to face them, and it screeched to a stop in front of them. Oh, no. The door slid open, and several men jumped out, quickly firing a dart into the two. Canada stumbled, and since he didn't really fight, he was overtaken, dragged into the van. The dart started taking effect, and after a moment, he was taken too.
He was able to stay almost completely awake though, and finally, the drugs wore off, and he realised he was propped up in a seat of the back of a moving van, and he was chained. He looked across, to see Canada's eyes clearing. He tried moving, but he was chained to. There was a muffled shout, and the two nation looked to the floor to see America gagged and chained as well.
"America! Are you okay?" America glanced around, then nodded. The van's engine roared as they went faster, and America started struggling more. A man leaned back and hit him with the hilt of a gun. "Hey! What did I tell you?"
Britain glared at him. The man glared right back. "Don't try me," he growled. Britain said nothing, but, oh, he could have. After what seemed like hours, and a couple blows later, the van stopped, and they back doors opened. About twenty men in black with guns, and one in a lab coat stood there.
"Ah," the lab coat man said, "such fine specimens." Britain spluttered. Exactly who was this guy? How dare he do this to a nation! "What the bloody hell is going on?" he snapped. The man looked at him. "You must be England. Nice country, I must say." His eyes flickered to Canada, and at the maple leaf sewn on his jacket.
"Canada?" He looked down at America. "I know that's America, but how do you two look so alike. It's rather hard to tell you apart." He scribbled something down on the clipboard he held. He snapped his fingers. "Get them into the tanks."
Canada looked at Britain in alarm. Tanks?