Chapter 2

August 12th, 2010

Prussia was used to waking up with a pounding head, after he'd been out drinking. He was also used to waking up in various states of undress, wincing at the light shining in his eyes. He was even used to waking up in strange rooms, more often than not finding an attractive person (male or female) lying next to him.

Still, as he slowly drifted to consciousness, he knew something was off.

He struggled to figure out exactly what it was, which was not easy when his head felt like someone was trying to jab a railway spike through it. It did not help matters that there were countless lights glaring down at him, no doubt racking up a huge electric bill for whoever owned the place.

Prussia's brain kicked into auto-drive. He had not waited for Germany to get him. Thus, he had a very angry little bruder looking for him, somewhere. Best to get up, sneak away from whoever's place he crashed at, and find Germany.

As he tried to sit up, though, he realized exactly what was off about his situation. The unusually hard bed he could handle. The freakishly bright lights he could take. The strange room? Eh, odd but not really out there.

But as he struggled to get off of the bed, he realized that he was tied down to it.

The shock of this managed to clear his head a little more. This sort of thing didn't happen, at least not in this day and age. Sure, he'd had plenty of experiences being tied up and subjected to freaky stuff (most of which was thanks to Russia, during the days of the Berlin Wall). But being tied down to a table? A table which, from the feel of things, was stainless steel? That was new. He didn't like it at all. Though he liked the fact that leather straps were holding his ankles, wrists, and neck in one place even less.

He also did not like the fact that his shirt was missing, and not just because he was getting chilly. Being on what seemed to be an operating table? Bad. Being on an operating table without clothes? Very bad.

Somewhere out of his line of sight, he heard a door swing open. He tried to twist his head to see what was going on, but his head was firmly fixed so he could only see the ceiling.

A few seconds later though, he was able to get some idea of what was going on. Two people were moving around on his right side, just within his peripheral vision. That they were both wearing surgical masks, scrubs, and a lab coat and were carrying various medical instruments made him, if possible, even more uneasy about the situation.

One of them, a man, set up a small table. He balanced a tray of small, silver tools on it, along with some box-like object. Prussia tried to see what was going on, but was distracted by the sensation of something cold being stuck to his head.

"What the hell?!" he screeched.

"The drugs are wearing off," said a woman's voice from behind Prussia's head. "Do we administer another dose?"

"No! Let me out of here!" snarled Prussia, twisting and trying to pull himself free. Damn it, why was this so difficult? He was a nation! He'd been shot and stabbed countless times! He'd broken things much tougher than leather! What was going on?

"Eh, don't bother," said the man. "We'll be starting the procedure soon enough. Better just give a minute and go straight to the anesthesia."

"Excuse me?!" Prussia's voice managed to get even louder. "Procedure for what? What anesthesia? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING?"

"Okay, I think we're ready," said the man, completely ignoring Prussia. "You want to do it, or should I?"

The woman stepped around to where the man was standing, so Prussia could see both of them. "You'd better do it," she said, watching as the nation frantically twisted his arms to try to break free. "I haven't done it much. Don't want to miss the vein."

"Fair enough," said the man.

God damn it, who were these people? What kind of doctors did stuff like this? Prussia swore to God that when he was out of there, he would be having a few words with whoever's health care service he'd fallen victim to. Words that were most likely going to be four-lettered.

Those thoughts flew out of Prussia's head as he saw the man pick up something from the tray. As the man held it up to inspect it, Prussia felt himself go numb.

It was a syringe.

He felt cold, and he had a feeling it had nothing to do with his lack of a shirt. He redoubled his efforts to free himself, pulling and twisting and screaming his head off. Every curse word he knew, in every language, went flying through the air in the faintest hope that someone - anyone - would hear it and save him.

The man and woman - doctors, mad scientists, whatever the hell they were - didn't even look fazed. The man just grabbed Prussia's arm and managed to hold it still. With amazing precision, he stuck the needle in and pushed down the plunger.

Prussia managed to get out six more rude accusations about their parentage before he really felt himself go numb. It started in his arm, where the needle had gone in, but spread quickly, far too quickly, through the rest of his limbs. It was in his head and his heart and his fingers and everywhere, and he could not move. He could blink and he could breathe, but that was it.

"Okay," said the man, fumbling with that weird box-thing. It must have been a tape recorder, because there was a click, and the man began talking into it. "August 12th, 2011 - Doctors Henderson and Parker are going to begin abdominal exploratory surgery on Prisoner 1, otherwise known as Gilbert Beilschmidt, otherwise known as the former nation of Prussia."

They knew? They knew who he was? How did they - how did that leak out? Did they know who the other nations were? And why did they take him? Were they one of those fringe political groups America always bitched about? If so, what did they think he could give them?

"Though Prussia has officially been dissolved," the man continued, interrupting Prussia's panicked thoughts, "Our observations have led us to believe that he may currently be representing the region of Eastern Germany, or else the Kaliningrad Oblast. For the duration of this procedure and future ones -"

Future procedures? Shit!

"Designated HCS employees will be observing those territories. In the event that the experiments on Prisoner 1 cause negative effects on the land or its people, we will be forced to continue our testing through alternate means. If there are no negative effects, we shall proceed as planned."

At this point, Prussia would have been hyperventilating if he could control his lungs. The male doctor - Doctor Henderson - was picking up a scalpel from the tray.

"We will begin the procedure immediately."

Wait! Prussia wanted to scream. I'm still awake! Don't do this!

At this point, Doctor Parker spoke up. "According to our EEG readings," she said, directing her words towards the microphone, "our subject is currently conscious, though physically paralyzed by the muscle relaxant administered. This state of anesthesia awareness will be maintained, so that we can study the correlation between pain and the subject's brain patterns."

For the first time in his many years, Prussia wished he were dead.

The first cut was quick and efficient and hurt like hell. Prussia had been cut before, but almost always while he was fighting or struggling. Now, forcibly relaxed and without any adrenalin, there was nothing to distract him from what was going on. He wasn't sure if it helped or was worse that he couldn't tilt his head to see what was going on. On one hand, he hated not knowing what they were up to. On the other hand, he was pretty sure that if he saw them groping around in his stomach, he'd throw up.

He started remembering his failed invasions of Russia, the time he realized Hungary was a woman, the many times he teased Austria, anything to distract himself from the fact that he was being cut open, oh God! There were two more cuts made, like an "I", and he could now feel them reaching under the skin and opening him up like a box.

Some really awesome things came in boxes. Like puppies! Puppies were awesome! Ludwig had three, though they were dogs now. Gilbird didn't always like them, though. Think of the puppies, think of the puppies, don't think of how they're rooting around inside... dammit! It didn't hurt so much now that he was actually open, but it felt weird!

He felt something brushing his shoulder and, grateful for the distraction, he turned his attention to it. Doctor Parker had wandered over and was running her hand along him in a way he probably would have appreciated more, under different circumstances.

"Wow," she murmured. "He's… amazing!"

"It's amazing, yes," Doctor Henderson corrected her. "Don't call it a 'him'. You'll only get attached."

"It's so strange that it's so human," she said, leaning over Prussia's face. "I know we were hypothesizing about how easily they died, but do you think it bleeds like a normal person as well?"

"We're going to be finding out," said Henderson.

If possible, Prussia began to feel even worse. He closed his eyes and did his damnedest to ignore how his body gently shifted from side to side as the two doctors grabbed and hacked at his organs. He counted the seconds, the minutes, and eventually the hours. He clung to his sanity only by thinking that it would have to be over soon.

Dear God, let it be over.

July 22, 2011

Exactly eleven months and eleven days ago, Prussia disappeared without a trace.

Eleven months and ten days ago, Germany had woken up every nation at the crack of dawn, demanding that they meet for an impromptu World Meeting to find out who knew where his bruder had gone.

Eleven months and eight days ago, it was finally determined that really, none of the nations had seen Prussia since he had gone out drinking, and they weren't covering for something stupid he'd done. Again.

Germany did his best to swallow his fear. Everything surely was fine. Prussia always survived. He'd outlasted the Teutonic Knights and survived the dissolving of the Kingdom of Prussia. His bruder must have stumbled off somewhere. He was a nation. What was going to happen to him?

And so, for the next eleven months and some-odd days, he recruited everyone he possibly could for a worldwide nation-hunt.

Many of the nations were willing to help out with the search. Hungary, Spain, France, and (with a little prodding from Hungary) Austria were the first to help out. Italy joined in as well, weeping at how upset his friend was. Japan too was concerned for his former ally, and lead his many siblings in combing Asia. America was determined to be a hero as usual, and went through all fifty of his states. He searched with Mexico, who said that none of her fellow Central American nations had seen Prussia, and Canada, who Germany a minute to remember. England and Romano ended up helping after some puppy-dog eyes from America and Spain respectively.

Between them, they scoured every inch of the Earth. No rock was left unturned. No home was left unsearched. Even the most hostile nations were spoken with (though South Korea had to duck when North threw something at his head).

And after so many months, it was all in vain. For all intents and purposes, Prussia had vanished off of the face of the planet.

Germany refused to admit defeat, however. He pushed everyone to keep looking. He himself hardly ate or slept, chasing even the faintest rumors as to where Prussia might have gone. He ignored his boss's questions. He ignored the concerns of the other nations. He blocked everything out, except for where Prussia could possibly be.

Until…

"Germany," said England gently, "I think it's time we bring this to an end."

Germany gave him a truly frightening look. They had just ended a meeting specifically for sharing their progress on the search for Prussia, and the lack of news had left Germany extremely disheartened.

"I think he right, aru," said China, stepping in to give England some support. "We've looked for this long, and still nothing?"

"I do not care what you think," Germany snapped. "Just because you two are not able to find a missing person -"

"It's not just them," said Austria. "We've all thought this through."

Germany growled. "No."

Hungary took Germany's hands in hers. "Please, Germany," she said. "It's for the best. We all love - loved him, but we must move on!"

Germany winced at the obvious use of past tense. "You think my bruder is..."

"We do," said England, as the rest of the group nodded and murmured in agreement.

"He certainly is not. I would know if he is."

"How?" asked England, in exasperation. "How would you know that, Germany? You'd feel something go out, like a light? I'm sorry, but it has! We have been over every inch of every spit of land, and no one has come anywhere close to sensing Prussia!"

Germany clapped his hands over his ears. "Be quiet!"

England did not stop. He began trying to pry Germany's hands away from his head. "Listen to me, you stupid berk! I know it's hard! I... the same thing happened with Mother Brittania, when I was just a child!"

"Quiet!" repeated Germany, pulling away.

"Everyone here has suffered the same loss," England continued, still grabbing at the taller nation's hands. "We're here! We'll all help you! But you have to acknowledge that your brother has faded awa -"

"BE QUIET!" Germany roared.

The room was deathly still for a moment, after that outburst. Then, France gently touched Germany's shoulder. "Mon ami, what Angleterre says is true. We won't abandon you to your grief."

Germany looked at him, not bothering to hide how red his eyes were. "You think this too, France?"

"He and I both," said Spain. "Please, Germany. Prussia was our best friend, but...but we can't sense him anywhere! He is nowhere to be found! We always thought it was a fluke that he continued on with us after his country dissolved, and it must just have been his time."

Even France and Spain agreed. Germany looked at the faces of everyone gathered around him. They were all grief-stricken and sympathetic and he did not doubt for a minute that they were sincere in their condolences. But how could they give up and abandon his bruder like that? How? He tried to think of some way to express this, but all he could say was "He represented my other half."

"What was that?" asked England, gently.

"I said, he represented the other half of my house." Germany cleared his throat so he could better enunciate. "That was why he lasted as long as he did. He called me West, because I represented that part of our house. I don't know why mein bruder did not bother with changing his name, but he officially was Eastern Germany. That is why I can not believe he would just vanish. Eastern Germany is still here so... so he must be!"

Verdammt! Why would they not go away? Did they really have nothing better to do than stand there and stare at him as if he had some terminal illness? So they seemed convinced Prussia was gone forever! Even if that was true did it - wasn't he allowed any privacy?

Someone much shorter than him latched to his middle in a hug. "Ve! Germany, please don't be sad!" Italy wailed, sobbing into his friend's uniform.

"I... It is fine, Italy," Germany said, not sure of how to react to such a passionate reaction.

"I remember when Nonna Rome disappeared. Ve! It was so sad! But I had Romano and Big Brother France - even though they really scared me - and you can have me!"

"Italy," said Germany. His voice was low, so no one would hear it cracking. He focused on the small nation still clinging to him. Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw the other nations quickly leaving the room. It was about time. "Italy," Germany tried again, "I...I will be..."

That was as far as he managed to get, before sinking to the ground and weeping.

July 25th, 2011

David Hunter was very pleased.

It had been almost exactly one year since they had begun their experimentation on Prisoner 1, and everything had gone better than he could ever have hoped.

At his right, an HCS technician leaned towards a microphone fixed in front of them. "Prisoner 1," the technician said, his voice slow and even. "Prisoner 1, respond."

Prisoner 1 was in the same room as them, but was kept at a distance by a wall of plexiglass. The plexiglass was specifically designed with the strength of the nations in mind, so there was no chance of Prisoner 1 breaking it and escaping.

Not that Prisoner 1 was in a position to break much, at the moment. They had started it on a long-running nutrient deprivation test, and the effects were slowing it down. Already Prisoner 1 was twenty pounds underweight and, most intriguingly, its hair was beginning to fall out. It was also showing signs of having less energy.

As they watched Prisoner 1, those effects were very noticeable. It was slumped in the chair set up in the middle of the room, staring blankly at the wall in front of it.

"Prisoner 1, respond," the technician repeated.

Prisoner 1 turned its head to stare in their direction. It didn't say anything, which didn't surprise them. They'd taken the morning blood samples just before beginning the test, and it was always disoriented after that.

It was usually also nicely quiet and compliant, which was why they tended to take the samples before experimentation.

Satisfied that he had Prisoner 1's attention, the technician continued. "Prisoner 1, on the table in front of you, there are three cups.

Prisoner 1 looked forward again. Its eyebrows raised in mild surprise, as if it only just had noticed the table and plastic cups.

"You are to drink from the cup farthest to the right."

As the nation reached mechanically for the cup, the technician switched off the microphone and turned to Hunter. "It's amazing all we've learned from it!" he gushed. "The vivisections have been enormously informative, especially in regards to its healing and regenerative abilities. Why, in a decade or two, we may even figure out a way to isolate whatever it is responsible for such a healing factor! Imagine the possibilities!"

"And it looks like it's settled in quick enough," said Hunter, watching Prisoner 1 drinking from the specified cup. When they had begun experimentation on the subject, it had protested loudly, often with much cursing in German. Whenever it had a chance, it would bite and strike at the scientists or HCS employees in charge of tying it down. Now though, it was subdued enough that they weren't worried about such things.

The technician switched on the microphone again. "Prisoner 1, remain seated and as still as possible for precisely thirty seconds."

Hunter tapped the technician on the shoulder, signaling that he wanted to talk to him. "Have you received word from the people monitoring East Germany and the Kaliningrad Oblast?" he asked, when the microphone was again turned off.

"Yes sir. They have reported that there have been no unusual activities in either regions."

"Excellent. I think we can continue as planned, in that case."

In the sealed-off part of the room, Prisoner 1 began to gag violently. It fell sideways off of the chair and crashed gracelessly to the ground, where it lay on its side and began retching out some watery, yellow-brown bile.

"Shit," muttered the technician, taken by surprised. He flipped on the microphone and began droning, "Prisoner 1, when your air passage has cleared, please describe any unusual images, sounds, or smells you may be experiencing…"

Hunter took his leave at this point. He had a lot to get ready, if they were to go ahead with the second part of their plan.

There were roughly one hundred and ninety-six countries in the world, and that wasn't even considering the countless colonies, territories, and micronations.

There were plenty to choose from to bring into HCS custody.

David Hunter smiled at the thought. Ready or not, here we come…

A/N - Anesthesia awareness is a real thing, yes. It apparently varies widely in how the affected person perceives the world, and more commonly happens with muscle relaxants. EEGs can sometimes help doctors figure out if it's going on, but it's not 100% foolproof.

Fun fact - there are 195 officially recognized countries in the world, with Taiwan being disputed. A lot of territories considered people often think of (example: Puerto Rico) aren't actually counted as a part of that 195. Of course Hetalia doesn't follow that rule, so there's a lot more than 195 personifications. ^^