Life was peachy, Poland thought as he was escorted into what was presumably a holding cell. First he was invaded, and now, like four weeks later, and he's the captive of a crazy. Not that he had met Hitler yet, but the guy sounded like a fucking psycho with a plan. A plan that apparently no one was going to stop, seeing as Arthur and Francis were too busy worrying about themselves.
"Stop!" his guard barked, which was totally rude because he is NOT stupid. If anyone was stupid it was Hitler with his grody uniforms. The door they had stopped opened to reveal a long headachingly white hallway, with five doors. If Germany had any taste at all, he would have added a bit of colour. Where was Ludwig anyway? He wasn't in the invasion and he should have like, been there, right? He was probably playing soldier with that albino loser and Austria. "Here," the total jerkface guard yelled and shoved him through the entrance of one of the doors at the end.
"Owwwww, he didn't have to, like, push me..." As Feliks lifted his head, he discovered that his prison was a bit worse than an orinary cell. The walls were the same blinding white as the hall, but the theme of the room was the swastica. Tapastries, paintings, and hanging silks all donning the Nazi emblem were spread across the large room. Even more shocking was the furniture. Rows of mattresses lined the wall, with chains and manacles and... whips. Feliks felt the urge to throw up. This was not a cell. This was Hell, and apparently other nations were going to be dragged down with him.