Unwelcome rays of light fought their way through drawn, dusty blinds, casting a guilty limelight on the sleepy German. Even the fluffiest of cotton pillows couldn't protect his eyes from the first…and worst…parts of morning. Waking up.

Ludwig sat up, yawning lazily, but flinched, wincing at the pain from his wounds as his body moved. This only brought back chaotic flashbacks from the night before, and it only made his mood worse for wear. Kicking off layers of silk blankets, he entered the bathroom, beginning his morning routine as always. The mirror caught his eye, his bare chest was aligned with lacerations and bruises, no doubt from the Russian's teeth and nails throughout the whole torrential sexual escapade.

Peering downwards, his eyes followed the trail of wounds to his navel, lifting the waistband of his boxer pants to examine his "priority." Luckily the wounds halted at his waist, the Ruski hadn't had the chance to get too rough in that region.

Ludwig left the bathroom quickly, unable to reminisce any longer. He needed to concentrate on work today, he was desperately behind schedule, and there were several issues demanding his attention. Dressing himself in a simple black polo shirt and brown slacks, he left his personal quarters in a hurry in pursuit of his office, briefly catching a glimpse of the kitchen to say hello to Veneciano. Closing his office door behind him, he exhaled slowly, grasping a bic pen and a cup of coffee, bracing himself to face the day.

But upon reclining in his chair, Ludwig jumped in shock, toppling over his coffee mug, sending the steaming liquid inside across the oak desk, soaking Foreign Affairs documents and gott knows what else. He stood up in alarm, feeling pinpricks of anxiety crawl under his skin.

He realized it at that moment, that it had been entirely too easy to enter his office. Entirely too easy to leave his bedroom, pass the kitchen AND resume his work without a single obnoxious interruption, question, or perverted joke.

WHERE'S PRUSSIA?

Ludwig burst through the door with impressive speed, tearing down the hall into the kitchen, nearly startling Veneciano, who was eating pizza and watching reruns of old cartoons. He stopped at the mouth of the kitchen, grabbing the Italian by the shoulders, eyeing him directly.

"I-Italia, where is my bruder?" Ludwig wheezed, struggling to catch his breath.

"Doiitsuu…you're being scary…" Italia whimpered, tears threatening to escape his golden eyes, his bottom lip quivering. The German released his grip on the young ones shoulders, he'd momentarily forgotten the Italian's sensitivity.

"I'm sorry Italia, but you need to answer me. It's very important, okay?" Ludwig repeated, ruffling the younger man's hair affectionately. "Now, please. Tell me where Gilbert is."

The Italian hesitated, breaking eye contact with the blonde for a moment to think it over. "He…Prussia-san that is, told me not to tell you…"

Ludwig ground his teeth in frustration. Time was of the essence and he needed 100% accurate information, and he was certain the Italian knew of Gilbert's location. Besides, Veneciano was terrible at bluffing, lying, any skill of that kind.

"Veneciano. Disclose Gilbert's location. That's an order." Ludwig spoke sternly to the Italian for what was the first time in months, and he knew the Italian had a weak spot for authoritative commands.

But the Italian's shoulders began to shake, and as expected, he burst into tears. "B-b-bb-but if I tell, P-P-Prussia-san said he'd take me down and cut off my di-!"

Ludwig clapped his hand over the young one's mouth, the blonde couldn't mentally deal with Prussia's absence, let alone his dirty and uncalled for remarks to the young Italian. Slowly removing his hand, he began to tap his foot impatiently, waiting on the Italian to speak.

"Um…well…he went to Mr. Braginski's house." Veneciano whispered, trembling.

Ludwig cursed silently, darting to the front of the dormitory, grabbing his military jacket with enough force to knock over the coat rack, and slammed the door behind him.

Running down the hallway, his background was a blur, wind blasting behind him as he sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him to the Communist's residence. Time was of the essence, and Gilbert was in danger.

The painful *CLANG* of chains reverberated through the small basement level room. They descended from their cast iron bonds on the ceiling, draping like industrial vines in midair. Usually they lived a life, more like a prolonged existence without purpose, swinging nearly silently in the stale air in the sub level room.

Which usually remained vacant and pitch black.

Containing nothing more than old documents abandoned long ago, broken desks, long-since-retired utilities and maintenance tools, and the lanky chains that held their place within this room.

But today, on this very morning, the resilient chains found their purpose, in restraining a rather wily albino, who spat more curses than he could count on both hands.

He remained suspended in the barely inhabitable space, stripped of his military wear, his only cover being seafoam tinged boxers that hugged his waistline. He paid no mind to the frigid air, his body neither shook nor shivered. The only expression on his face was one of blind rage.

The clasps bonded to the chains on the ceiling held tight to the albino man's hands, chafing his pale skin cruelly as his weight and gravity worked as one to work gashes into his wrists.

He could see nothing, all he knew was what he felt. He was aware he was chained, robbed of movement, absolutely helpless in the darkness and only a dim light shining through the room from a dim bulb above.

A soft voice broke the silence, one that the albino captive was enraged to hear.

"You almost look cute, helplessly bonded like that, you know."

"Shut the fuck up!" Gilbert snapped, struggling to keep as still as possible, with every movement, the clasps buried deeper into his skin. It was nerve-wracking in the darkness to be subjected to such a mocking voice, in addition to the chain's commanding grip on his limbs.

"Oh, you." The voice cooed, traveling closer and closer, heavy footfalls approaching the albino captive from where he hung in midair. "It's somewhat unlike you to hang around this lower level storage room, isn't it?"

Prussia could hear the cruel smirk within that comment, baring his teeth like an animal. "We both know very well that you trapped my awesomeness in here...Braginski." he spat, accenting the last name of his captor with a tone of disgust. "What…did you run out of willing contestants for cheap sexual favors, you sick fuck?" Prussia shouted at the bathos darkness.

"Ehuhu!" Ivan giggled, approaching the vicious albino with gusto. "Prussia, you resort to molesting your brother, Ludwig, for sexual favors, da?" the Ruski mused aloud, "And, since it's obviousno candidates with a pulse desire to…as you say… fuck you, I find it odd for you to criticize me."

Prussia snarled, struggling to escape his position. He began whining loudly at the white hot pain from his mangled fist and his wrists, which had been punctured by the clasp's brittle edges, and left fresh cuts on his milky skin. "Son of a bitch…drunkard…you're a motherfucking psycho to even attempt to trap the invincible awesomeness that is Pr-!"

All Gilbert's ears heard was a light whistling noise as, to his surprise, a blunt object sliced through the air at startling speed, connecting with his chest. Prussia recoiled violently, the clasps raking deeper into his wrists, blood dripping down his arms at a steady pace. He wheezed, desperate to recollect the air he lost and cope with the blinding pain of possibly damaged ribs.

"The invincible awesomeness that is…hmm..you?" Ivan asked mockingly, stifling a laugh. "Well, pardon this Russian drunkard with the obvious advantage here, but it is to my understanding that, in most cases when you describe something as invincible…" Ivan leaned forward, using a familiarly stiff pipe to lift Prussia's jaw to meet the Russian's gaze, "that something as minor as, say, the swift strike of a metal drain pipe, couldn't affect you?" Ivan sneered.

Gilbert closed his eyes only briefly, his sole concentration was fixed onto remaining alive. He readjusted himself, his waist now at a higher angle than his head, the main weight of his body now shifting to his ankles, relieving the pressure on his wrists. Blood trickled at a slower pace now, and the impending dizziness set in, and the albino needed to regain and conserve oxygen.

"Answer me, you pathetic, arrogant excuse for a pawn." Ivan growled, losing his calm tone, an air of contempt thick in his voice. "What compelled you, dare I ask, to interrupt my time with your brother to instigate a fight, hmm?"

Prussia spat in response into the darkness, unconcerned with where it landed. Much to his joy, and his misfortune, it hit Ivan's cheek with a wet sound, trailing down the Russian's face.

Ivan loomed over the Prussian, whom even under pressure as a captive, maintained a flimsy façade of stability. He lowered a gloved hand, yanking hard on the chains suspending Gilbert's wrists, causing them to cut further into the albino flesh. Gilbert wailed loudly, drawing a giggle from the sadistic Ruski.

"Ah, Gilbert." Ivan murmured with a disturbed grin. "You should've seen what I did last night, or felt it, rather. It was impressive, how much your brother released for me…that frothy cum on my skin, it was just the best." Ivan reminisced, drawing out every syllable.

"Shut your perverted mouth about bruder, you shit-faced psycho!" Prussia shot back, trying to filter the Russian's words out of his mind, but they permeated through Gilbert's defense easily.

"And may my sincerest apologies reach the ears of the foul-mouthed Prussian brat." Ivan spat coldly, twirling the U-trap pipe with renewed vigor. "After all, I've brought you here to tell you, I'm breaking my deal with Ludwig."

Prussia lifted his head weakly, glaring into the dank blackness. "Someone as awesome as I cannot trust a Russian's word." He muttered. "You'd never break your deal with bruder."

"How wrong you are." Ivan giggled, moving in close enough for the Prussian captive to detect vodka on the Ruski's warm breath. "I intend to break one promising item from your brother."

"In fact…" Ivan continued, allowing a gloved finger to graze down the Prussian's abdomen, "I intend to break you."