Chapter Warnings: foul language, blood, gore, insanity, molestation & implied rape (section containing this will be labeled so you can read the rest but skip this part if it will upset you to read)

"Bloody hell," Britain hissed, his back against the metal bars behind him, using them to brace himself as he kicked out with his feet, trying to somehow break open the door to the cage he was trapped in. It only sent painful vibrations reverberating up through his bones, sending him into another wave of cursing before repeating the process for what seemed to be the millionth time.

"It's no use," Ukraine said from her cage about twenty feet away.

"She's right, mi amigo," Spain nodded from his own confine.

Ukraine continued, "Even if you did get out somehow, you'd just break your neck on the fall to the ground…"

China, the only other country in the room, swallowed hard, glancing downwards. They were all being contained in separate impounds, like large birdcages hanging by chains from the arched ceiling. They were tall enough for them to sit up and stretch their legs, but not enough to stand up or comfortably lay down. The ground was about forty feet below them, making China's head spin. How the Canadian had gotten them up there, they had no idea.

"Well what do you want me to do, just sit here and let that wanker win?!" Britain demanded. Ukraine and Spain shared glances.

"I don't know, aru, but you aren't getting anywhere that way." China said quietly, making Spain jump. The Eastern nation had hyperventilated and passed out when they woke up and realized what was going on, and hadn't done much talking since. And the few things that he had spoken didn't quite seem right, like someone had broken a glass and tried to put it back together, but got some of the pieces confused so it didn't quite fit.

"We just have to calm down and think of something." Ukraine said. They all took deep breathes and glanced at each other.

"If anyone has any ideas," Spain said. "Say them, por favor. Does… anyone have any?"

The silence answered his question.

Sweden sat with his back rested up against the cold stone wall of his cell, the only sounds that of dripping water and the occasional scurrying of rats. He hadn't been injured much in the explosion as he had been pretty far away from it. Bruises were scattered across his body, but the only place the skin had been broken was his arm. The wound had already been treated and wrapped when he woke up, presumably by the Canadian that kept him captive.

Speaking of the devil… "Hello, Berwald."

Sweden looked up, his expression blank but a flame of hatred burning in his eyes. He didn't say anything, just waited for Matthew to continue. Canada stood by the cell door, looking Sweden up and down, and then glanced around the small room. He didn't meet the other man's eyes, though Berwald was staring right into his.

"I see you're-"

"What did you do with my wife?" Sweden interrupted, rising to his feet.

"Finland?" Canada asked and the other man nodded, taking several steps towards him. Berwald towered over Canada, looking down on him with cold eyes.

"Where is he?"

"Well, eh," Canada took a step back, intimidated by the much larger man even though he was trapped behind bars. "Here's… some of him."

Canada tossed something small towards Sweden, who caught it in his hands, before disappearing down the hallway. When Sweden looked down at what was in his palms, his eyes widened and he let out a horrified gasp, throwing it out of the cell and into the hallway on reflex, where Finland's severed, blood-caked finger rolled to a stop. It was definitely Tino's. Sweden had held his hand enough times to know the look of his fingers and the feel of his skin.

He stumbled, falling backwards onto the hard ground before pushing himself up against the far wall and pulling his knees to his chest, refusing the look out into the hallway. He closed his eyes tightly, breathing heavily and trying to stop himself from crying.

Sweden was a stoic man. He had lived a long life full of hardships, but had hardly ever cried. The last time he had done so, in fact, had been not out of pain but out of joy. When Finland finally said that he was not afraid of him. Tino had at first been confused when Berwald covered his mouth with his hand and two matching tears fell from his eyes. He had asked if he'd said something wrong and Sweden had just shook his head, pulling him into a hug, so grateful that the person he cared about most in the world was not scared of him.

But that seemed so far away now. And Finland… might not even be alive.

France finally let out a scream when he felt the blade digging into his back, just below his shoulder blade. Canada yanked the knife to the right a few inches before roughly pulling it out of his flesh, France letting out another blood-curdling shriek, his eyes slammed shut, his body soaked with sweat. Blood seeped out of the many wounds on his back and down his sides, staining his skin red.

"Screaming is a good sign," Matthew commented, repeating what he had just down but underneath France's other shoulder.

"Canada!" France wailed. "Please stop!"

"You know I can't do that, papa," Matthew said, digging the knife into the small of France's back. Francis grit his teeth, determined not to scream again as scarlet liquid seeped from the incision. His arms and legs were strapped down to the cold metal table he lay on. The only other thing in the tiny room was a small tray of knives behind Canada, each blade different in size and shape. He had already used half of them on the country who had raised him.

"Yes you can, Mattie…" France said, whimpering as sharp metal dug into the flesh just above his collar bone. His words began to trail off as everything began to turn black as he slowly lost consciousness from pain and blood loss. "I raised you, I know you have strong will power… you can stop. Mattie… papa still loves you. You… can stop…"

(Section warning: molestation & implied rape. Please skip this if it will trigger you)

"Today was so long," Canada sighed, stepping into the dimly lit bedroom. A pained groan came from the bed. He kicked off his shoes and socks as well as slipping out of his jacket, tossing them into a corner of the room. The floor was covered in rugs of all shapes, sizes and colors lying wherever they wanted, and the walls had dark red wallpaper. The three windows were undersized, close to the ceiling and all on the same wall, iron bars covering them even though it was unlikely that anyone would be able to reach them. There were chairs and a couch facing an unlit fireplace and a chest of drawers up against one wall, but the room was mostly empty. Canada made his way over to the bed. "I'm sorry, sunflower. Did I wake you?"

The Russian man handcuffed to the bed post did not respond as Matthew climbed on top of him, one leg on either side of Ivan's hips. He didn't even glance at the man above him, staring up at the ceiling and refusing to look anywhere else. Russia was clad in only his boxers, and his platinum blonde hair was tangled and falling in his eyes. He didn't react when Matthew brushed them gently out of his face, but he flinched when the Canadian ran the back of his nails across the bruises on Ivan's shoulders.

"I'm sorry," Canada repeated. "I didn't mean to interrupt your sleep."

He smiled innocently, running his fingers down Russia's marked side with his right hand and tangling the other in his messy hair. "I know how tired you must be after," He pressed a fingernail into one of the more painful bruises and Russia took a sharp intake of breath, squeezing his eyes shut. "All that."

"Treating so many countries is so much work, Ivan." Canada continued after a few seconds. "There's just so many of them! And the treatment process is so time consuming. But I have to do it, for them. And I mean, it's not like it's an unpleasant experience… you know how much I like to hear people scream. And—Ivan? Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

A surprisingly painful slap graced Russia's face and he whimpered, prying open his violet eyes to look up at the man on top of him.

Canada smiled. "Much better."

Russia felt something warm on his leg and looked down to see Canada's pants soaked in blood and dripping it onto the Russian's pale skin.

"Whose blood is that?" Russia croaked his voice raw and used.

"I'm not entirely sure… could be several different people's," Canada admitted, before frowning down at his pants and tugging them off, throwing them away from the bed. "I suppose they were coming off, anyway…"

"What have you done to the others?" Russia asked.

"I told you, sunflower. I'm treating them." Matthew said, resting his head on Ivan's chest and wrapping his arms around his torso. They laid in silence for several minutes before Canada finally whispered, "Your heartbeat sounds so powerful, but you are so broken… And all mine. Your heart, you soul, your body… its all mine."

"I will never be yours, Mattvey," Russia hissed. A sharp pain shot through him when Canada took a pocket knife to the underside of his arm, sinking the blade into the pale flesh. Ivan let out a strangled cry.

"Are you sure about that?" Canada asked, slowly tugging the blade to the left towards Russia's shoulder, the skin splitting beneath the cool kiss of the blade.

"Stop," Ivan said, voice shaking as he breathed heavily.

"Admit that you're mine, sunflower, and I'll stop." Russia just glared up at him. Matthew frowned and jerked his hand upwards, ripping open the flesh on the larger man's arm. Ivan screamed. "Say it."

"I-I'm yours," He whispered, tears trickling down his cheeks. Canada smiled darkly and tossed the knife aside, leaning forward and lapping up the warm liquid that was trickling from Ivan's new wound.

"All mine," Canada grinned, pulling away from the injury to plant a bruising kiss on Russia's lips, the metallic taste of blood heavy in his mouth as Matthew's tongue forced its way inside.

"Stop…" Russia groaned when the blonde started grinding his hips against his.

"Why should I?" Matthew asked, reaching down with his right hand and aggressively stroking Russia through his boxers, earning him a badly-silenced moan. It was quickly followed by more pleas to stop, which Canada silenced by harshly biting Russia's collar bone. "You said it yourself, sunflower. You're all mine."