Author: MercurialLily
Fandom: Hetalia
Title: Iris
Rating: T
Pairing: None
Slight mention of drugs, alcohol, and suicide in this chapter.
October 6, 1993, unknown road
"So you want to know what I said back to that guy?"
"Shh, she's waking up."
Natalya groaned softly and opened her eyes. She felt extremely nauseous. It took her a minute to realize that she was lying down. As she cautiously sat up, she discovered two things - she was in a car, and her hands were cuffed in front of her. She struggled for a time to get free, but eventually gave up when she came to the conclusion that the handcuffs were stronger than she was. Only then did she notice the two people sitting across from her.
A man and a woman in perfectly pressed suits. Both were blonde. The man had a slightly androgynous look and sparkling eyes; the woman's features were soft and round, and she wore a gentle smile on her face.
Natalya was very confused. She remembered that she could talk, and she opened her mouth to speak. Her voice was hoarse, likely because she had been unconscious up until now. "Who are you?" she asked in Belarusian. When the two looked perplexed, she repeated herself in Russian.
The woman gestured to herself. "I'm Yekaterina Chernenko," she said. "Call me Katya, if you prefer." Then she gestured to the man beside her. "This is Feliks Łukasiewicz."
"That doesn't really explain much."
"Yes, I understand you must be in shock. But there's no reason to panic," Katya said. "We're going to help you. We need you for something, you see."
"What the hell could you possibly need me for?" Natalya held up her hands. "And why'd you have to handcuff me?"
"Some people react badly when they wake up from being chloroformed. Feliks, if you will."
"Yep." Producing a small key from his breast pocket, Feliks leaned forward and unlocked the cuffs. As soon as her hands were free, Natalya curled into a defensive position, rubbing her wrists.
"We need you for a...special reason," Katya said vaguely. "You'll learn more once we get to our destination."
Natalya rolled her eyes. "Where's that?" she asked. "Hell?"
"Warsaw."
"Huh?"
"You know, the capital of Poland..." Feliks said.
"Yeah, yeah, I know what it is. But why are you taking me there?"
"I just told you," Katya said.
With a grimace, Natalya looked out the window. After a few minutes, she glanced at Feliks and said, "You're a Pole, aren't you? I can tell from your name. Plus, you have an accent. And you..." She turned to Katya. "You have an accent too, but it's not as prominent. You're not Russian or Polish, but I know you're not Belarusian like me. I'm guessing you're from the Ukraine."
Katya smiled. "Indeed, you're correct. Now how about you tell us about yourself?"
Looking down at her knees, Natalya frowned. She had no idea who these people were, or what they wanted to do with her, so naturally she was hesitant to reveal details about herself. But there was a chance that they actually could help her... What harm could come from simply stating her name and a few facts about her life? "My name's Natalya. Natalya Arlovskaya," she began. "I'm seventeen, from Minsk. My parents died when I was six, so I guess you could call me an orphan. I speak Belarusian and Russian, as you can tell. And I don't have a real job, but I work as a pickpocket."
"Interesting. Now..." Katya pulled a folded piece of paper out from the bag on her lap. As she unfolded it, she said, "As part of our screening process, I'm required to ask you some questions. Is that all right with you?"
"Sure. Whatever."
Katya took a pen from her pocket. "How tall are you?" she asked.
"I...don't know," Natalya replied. "I've never been measured."
"How much do you weigh?"
"If I don't even know how tall I am, do you really think I'll know that?"
"What's your date of birth?"
"August 25, 1976. I think."
"You've told us what languages you speak..." Katya wrote this down. "Have you ever or do you currently use drugs or alcohol?"
"No."
Katya squinted at Natalya. "No good will come if you lie to us," she said.
Natalya made a small noise and looked away. "Okay, fine," she said slowly. "Occasionally I'll have enough money to buy some really cheap, watered-down vodka. It never tastes that good, but it numbs me a bit, and I like that. As for drugs, no, never used any, but sometimes I sell them. It's good money."
"Have you ever been pregnant?"
"...Yes."
"And what happened?"
Natalya didn't answer. She clenched her fists and bit her lip.
"Natalya?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Natalya said quietly. Her voice was shaking slightly. "Please."
Katya and Feliks exchanged a look. Katya took a long time writing something down. Then she asked, "Have you ever attempted suicide?"
Natalya nodded. "A few times. As you can see, I never succeeded."
"Do you have any particular goals or aspirations for the future?"
"I guess." With a shrug, Natalya went on, "I'd like to get off the streets. It's really hard when you're broke as shit and your country's economy sucks to make any lifestyle changes. So..."
Katya nodded. She turned to Feliks and whispered something to him. Feliks looked out the window and whispered something back. He tapped on the sheet of paper.
Natalya observed them carefully. She glanced out the window as well and saw a large, industrial-style building up ahead. There was a sign nearby, but it was in Polish, a language Natalya didn't know. She wondered what it said.
As if she could read her mind, Katya said, "This is the Agency for Public Well-Being and Safety. We often refer to it simply as the Agency."
"What do you do here?" Natalya asked. She felt the car come to a stop.
"Come inside and we'll tell you." Katya opened the car door, and she and Feliks stepped out. Hesitant at first, Natalya did the same. She had barely set her feet on the ground when a gun was pushed into her face.