**Note: Someone pointed out some grammatical errors and inconsistencies. So once I get my head out of the gutter, I will fix them.
Man, I've just been pumping these out for the past couple of weeks. *Collapses* I do not own Hetalia, though I wish I did. Or Ivan, at least.
Well, I do have Dmitri.
Enjoy.
/Siberia/
That Dubois woman was not messing around yesterday. This morning, or really, Alfred can only guess that it was morning, he, Arthur and Ivan are dragged from their cell to a place that heavily resembled some sort of large operating room with the surgical tools missing and they're strapped into restraint chairs. Several men then proceeded to do nothing less than beat half the life out of them for nearly two hours before someone speaking over a hidden intercom tells them to stop. At this point, Alfred is too dazed to even identify the gender of the voice, his sight double visioned from one too many hits on the head with a nightstick. Spitting out some blood, Ivan looks up and sees a blonde man wearing latex gloves, holding a syringe.
"Nyet!" he snarls, struggling to break his binds. The man does not utter a word as he grabs a handful of the Russian's hair, forces his head to the side, and slips the needle into his neck, injecting him with the mysterious fluid. Slowly, Ivan feels a slight sensation of pins and needle all over his body, dulling the pain a little as well as making his movements slow and sluggish, draining much of his strength. Yet he is still awake, still aware of his surroundings. It makes him feel panicked.
"What in God's name did you wankers give him!?" Arthur shouts as he watches the effects of the drug coming upon his fellow nation.
"Quiet." someone snaps as he too is injected with the same substance.
"Damn…!" the Brit snarls.
"H-Hey! This one's going to break the chair any minute now!" A woman calls as she fearfully watches Alfred struggle against his restraints, the straps becoming more and more notably weaker. All of the men rush over and hold him down.
"GET OFF ME!" he shouts.
"Give it to him now!" The woman acts quickly and gives him the drug.
"Oh God...what is this?!" Alfred chokes out.
"Nothing fatal or long-term. You'll just feel a bit weak for a few hours." Alfred looks up and sees Smith smirking down at him.
"You little shit." he spits. Smith continues on as if he had not heard the insult.
"Unfortunately, we haven't seen your children. They should have been at the airport hours ago." He grabs Alfred's collar. "Would you happen to know where they are?" Arthur scoffs.
"Idiot. You gits have us here. How in the world could we possibly know? And do you really think we would tell you if we did?"
"I suppose." Alfred is about to snap again when he feels an electrical shock shoot through his side.
"AH!"
"Now, let me ask you this: do you care about your people?" Smith asks, holding up some sort of cattle prod, but far more powerful. Alfred stares up at him, wide-eyed.
"Of course-GAH!" he shouts as he gets shocked in his side again.
"Wrong. You don't, not anymore. Thousands of your people suffer and most of them don't care what happens to them or how their fellow citizens suffer as long as it doesn't affect them. And you were also a damned colonizer, while you seem to deny it in the children's history books. Speaking of colonies." Releasing him, he moves on to Arthur.
"You. You were once the grand British Empire. During that time, your own people flourished while the natives of your colonies and the nations themselves suffered under your rule. Do you regret it?"
"Yes-AHH!" Arthur snarls as he gets shocked in the chest.
"I doubt that. You certainly had no objections back then. In fact. you were quiet proud of yourself. And today, many of those nations are in turmoil and you do next to nothing about it." He shocks him once more and walks over to Ivan. The two stare at one another.
"And you," Smith whispers, "You are an especially interesting country. Those scars on your neck," he points the cattle prod to Ivan's bare throat, "I've never seen anything like it before. Are they from a single event, a single battle? Or are they from centuries from war, abuse and discontent?" Ivan simply looks at him with a blank expression. "Does Dmitri have the same scars? Is that why you two wear those scarves so often?"
"Do not say my son's name again." he deadpans. Smith smirks.
"Ah, I know. You never could protect him, could you? At least not for long. You nearly lost him several times. You even had to run away and establish him as St. Petersburg because you were so weak. Too weak against the Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth. Is that why you captured Toris Laurinaitis? To make up for your own failing? What did his daughter Rasa think of that?"
"Stop." the Russian growls. Alfred and Arthur cannot utter a word. Not even to their ally's defense. Smith isn't just throwing flaws at his face. He's tormenting him.
"I suppose I digressed. Now, just how much do you value your people?" Before Ivan can answer, the American presses the prod on the side of his neck and turns it on.
"AAGHHH!"
"Any answers aside from trash and disposable would be a lie." he answers simply, shocking Ivan with no intention of stopping.
"God, shut up!" Alfred yells. Smith stops and turns to the younger nation.
"Al...fred...?" Ivan mutters weakly.
"I'm a bit surprised that you're defending him." Smith speaks raising an eyebrow. "Of course, you two are far more alike than either of you would admit. Maybe that's why your sons feel a kinship of some sort." Alfred blinks.
"What..."
"We will fix this. Your flaws, your mistakes, the world. We must fix them. This is only the beginning. You will be reformed." Smith whispers, his face almost dreamy.
"Now wait one minute, what are you going on about-" Arthur starts.
"Get them to the holding cell with the others. And send Marya to Annette and I."
/
"Ah!" Alfred grunts as he lands on the floor beside Arthur and Ivan in a room that resembles their first holding cell with same walls, the same harsh fluorescent lights, yet it is larger. The door slams behind him.
"Bastards."
"Al?" Looking up, he sees everyone else, including Matthew and Francis, looking roughed up, but alive.
"Mattie! Francis!" He stands and stumbles over, collapsing on top of them as he throws his arms around them.
"Jesus Alfred!" Matthew grunts with pain and irritation, but smiles a little. They manage to untangle and sit up. Alfred grins at them before frowning with concern.
"You guys alright?" he asks.
"Oui. Or perhaps more accurately, none of us have not suffered worse treatment than the three of you." Francis looks over his shoulder at Arthur. "It is good to see you as well." The Brit manages a bitter smile.
"I suppose I'm glad to see you and Matthew. Frog." Francis chuckles, happy to see Arthur is still himself.
"D-did they talk about your little ones as well? They-they were talking about them. About us." Feliciano pipes up, wringing his hands. "I have ripped my hair out thinking about Giovanni." Ivan nods slowly.
"Da. Did they drug you as well?"
"Ja." Ludwig answers, wiping a bit of blood away from his bottom lip. "I have no idea what it is, or why they are using it. It would have been more convenient for them if they knocked us out and kept us isolated."
"Vanya." Katyusha whispers. Ivan looks over see his sisters in a corner, Natalya curled up in a fetal position and Katyusha with her arms around her.
"Sestry!" he gasps. Slowly getting on to his feet, he walks over to them, careful that he doesn't trip over anyone, which is something of a challenge considering that his legs feel like they will give out any second. He finally reaches them and sits down. "Katyusha." he whispers, lightly touching a bruise on her cheek. "What did happened to Natalya?" His older sister bursts into tears.
"She will not say, Vanya! She is not talking to anyone! She has not uttered a word!" she sobs. Ivan looks down to their sister with great worry. She has frightened him in the past, in front of the children so often, trying to convince him that they should be wed. But now, she is hurt. She is vulnerable. And she will not tell Katyusha what is wrong. If those bastards did something to her…
"Natalya, it is me, Vanya." She refuses to look at him, refuses to make a sound. "Natalya, sestra, please, speak to us."
Nothing.
Ivan reaches and softly strokes her hair. "Natasha?" He whispers. She lets out a dry sob before succumbing to her tears.
"Moj Yurochka. Moj salodki, trochi Yurochka." she cries.
"Oh, Natasha, what happened? Was Yurochka hurt?" Katyusha asks, tears spilling from her own eyes, holding her younger sister's hand while Ivan continues to stroke her hair.
"Dy. I hurt him. I hurt my Yurochka so badly." she whispers in a wavering voice. As her siblings continue to soothe and comfort her, Alfred wishes he can help out somehow, but knows that whatever is going on is purely a family matter. He turns to Kiku.
"How long was she like this? he asks, hoping that the two of them were held captive in the same room.
"She has been distraught since we had awaken, Alfred-san." he answers, gingerly touching a rather painful knot hidden in his hair. "I cannot say for sure, but she may have been upset moments before our abduction." He hesitates for a moment. "Do you think our children are safe?" Alfred stays silent.
"Yeah." he finally answers, managing a somewhat convincing half-smile. "I'm sure they are. Capitals are tough, ya know? They gotta be if they can put up with us." He turns to the Slavic nations.
"Did I ever tell you the time Stan tried smashing a glass coke bottle over my head because I went in to clean up his bedroom a little?" he asks. The three look at him incredulously. Seconds later, everyone bursts into laughter.
If there is one thing that every capital in the world has in common is that they do not approve of anyone going into their rooms without permission. It is like the usual human teenagers, but to a higher extreme. To them, their rooms are a special kind of sanctuary. And no one, including their parents, were ever allowed to impede upon that unless given the okay by them and only them. The reactions can range from a full week of silent treatment to violent outbursts that include them chasing the nations while throwing various objects, or, if they have the ability, attempting to curse them.
"Your capital as well? Mary tried turning my head into that of a badger when I went in to see if she had one of my spell books."
"Ve~! Giovanni threw pasta at Lovino and I and then ignored us for days."
"That is nothing. Last week, Dmitri caught me looking through his music collection and he chased me all over the house, trying to strike my head with my pipe."
Okay, that is really funny. Everyone was doubling over, even the uptight Ludwig and Kiku. To imagine a, more often than not, benevolent kid like Dmitri chasing his intimidating dad Ivan all over the place, wielding that faucet pipe, more than likely doing that 'kolkolkol' that seems to run in the family and a look on his face that Alfred could see resembling that of Jack Nicholson's in 'The Shining', is nothing short of hilarious.
He might have even told his father that he was just going to bash his brains in.
"Holy hell," Alfred laughs, wiping a tear away, "Are you alright there Ivan?"
"Da." he chuckles, "He tired out after about two hours." He then frowns. "I suppose we did not part in the best terms either." He looks to Natalya and Katyusha. "None of us did." His sisters nod solemnly.
"Come now, it couldn't have been that bad." Arthur interjects. Katyusha shakes her head.
"Nie. It is that bad." Her eyes fill with tears, but her voice remains steady. "Sasha….Sasha always worries about me. She should not have to. She should be with her friends more often, but she is almost always home, making sure I am taken care of." She chuckles a little, and one could hear an underlying sadness . "Well, she does go under our boss' nose to see her Dyaďko Vanya. She and Yurochka love him so dearly."
"Is 'Yurochka' Yuri's nickname?" Yao asks. He and Mai had spent some time with the family during the Sino-Soviet alliance, but never recalled anyone calling the rarely smiling Belarusian boy by that name. Alexandra's nickname has become essentially universal while Dmitri's nicknames stay within the family.
"It used to be." Natalya answers. "When he was a child." She calmly wipes her eyes before continuing. "He was a such darling little thing. Always tagging along with Sasha and Dima, too frightened to leave their side. They fancied themselves as his guardians while in the snow. Each of them held his hands when they explored the tundras. They love the snow, even to this day." A dreamy expression washes over her features, complete with the smile of the Mona Lisa. It allows the other nations to see how truly beautiful she is, when her only facial expressions seem to either be stoic or absolutely demented. Come to think of it, Yuri is as handsome as his mother is beautiful.
The problem is that he rarely has any other facial expression other than a scowl, one of apathy, and the occasional smirk.
"Wait! Did anyone else hear that?" Arthur interrupts. Outside, they hear muffled voices, two adults and… a child. What in the world were children doing here of all places. The adults, who sounded like Smith and Dubois are raising their voices, while their young companion kept their voice low and steady. After a few minutes, Dubois barks what sounds like an order, and it sounds like the child is attempting to object, but is quickly silenced. The door creaks open a bit. Naturally, the countries stand in attempt to take the opportunity to escape, but collapse, the drug still affecting them along with the beatings and electrical shocks from earlier. A small figure slips inside, carrying several grocery bags. They look up and see their visitor.
She is a small, pale girl who looks no older than nine, with long, unkempt, dark brown hair, large hazel eyes, wearing a burgundy, hooded sweatshirt, blue jeans and old, navy blue sneakers. She presses against the wall, looking at the nations fearfully, as if they were going to tear her apart.
"It's okay." Alfred speaks up, his tone gentle and soothing. "We're not going to hurt you."
"How do I know? You will kill me once I turn my back to you! It does not matter if you are sedated! All of you are still strong enough to overpower me!" the girl snaps, her voice trembling a great deal. There is something familiar about her accent.
"You are Russian little one, da?" Ivan asks, crawling over and sitting next Alfred and Matthew, followed by Katyusha and Natalya. The girl hesitates, and nods slowly.
"Da."
"Would you sit down please?" he asks, his usual smile back in place. She stiffens and clutches the bags, her knuckles turning white. "Do not be afraid, my daughter. I will not allow any harm to come to you as long as you are here." Taking a deep breath, she sits down, her eyes never leaving them. Once settled, she tosses the bags to the nations. Upon checking them, they see that they contain black bread and bottled water. It's something, at least.
"Thank you. What's your name?" Alfred asks.
"Marya Volkova. Masha."
"Oh my, what a wonderful name!" Katyusha comments warmly. Masha relaxes just a bit.
"What are you doing in here Masha? It's dangerous to be locked in with strangers, eh?" Matthew adds. She frowns bitterly.
"They are punishing me. They knew that I did not feel safe coming in here alone, so they are locking me in here for one hour." she spits.
"Why are you afraid?" Matthew asks.
"I know what you are. And I know what you are capable of. They told me everything about you. They-they said that you would want revenge of some sort." she answers.
"Why in the world would they do that? That is so mean!" Feliciano cries.
"I was sent back to the conference building in the evening to see if your capitals would come back to investigate. I was supposed to gather any useful information. Around eight-thirty, two came." Masha stops to observes the room, her eyes switching from nation to nation until they settle on Ivan and Alfred. She points at them. "They were yours. I am sure of it. Blonde hair? Blue eyes? Glasses? Green hair? Violet eyes? Red scarf?"
"You saw them?!" they gasp. Excited, they begin to quickly crawl over to her. Masha lets out a scream. Francis and Ludwig are quick to hold them back. Each are ready to chastise them until Arthur takes care of it for them.
"What in God's name are you bloody wankers trying to do!? Scare the child to death!?" he shouts. The American and Russian blink and look back to Masha, and see her with her knees pulled to her chest, shaking, her eyes large.
"Oh God, sorry. Sorry."
"Prosti menya." Masha takes a few breaths and stops shaking.
"Do not ever do that again." she says with a glare.
"Right."
"As I was saying, those two returned to the building and they were speaking of you, the abduction and for some odd reason, ghosts and Catholicism." She shrugs. "They went into the conference room and began to search. I listened to them and the louder one found the card for W.L.L. with the location on the back. I began to look inside and they spotted me."
"What happened after that? After they saw you?" Matthew asks.
"They shrieked like women and ran off. I suppose I startled them, and their reaction frightened me as well."
She scared Stanley and Dmitri? Damn. Well, Kiku's horror movies never fail to scare the crap out of them, so they must have thought she was one of those weird, silly ghosts. They have to be under a lot stress.
"What does that stand for?" Ludwig asks.
"What?"
"W.L.L. What does that stand for?"
"World Liberation League." she answers.
"Are your parents a part of this, Masha?" Katyusha asks. The little girl frowns solemnly.
"I have not seen Mama in years. And Papa-" She stops, her eyes filling up. "My bastard Papa abandoned me to these people." she finishes, blinking her tears away. "Neither of them care. Mama has not searched for me and Papa is gone." Masha sniffles a bit. "I do not wish to speak of the matter any further." None of them knew what to say. Masha doesn't sound like a little girl. She doesn't speak like one. But there is that fear, that sadness only a child can feel if their parents ever abandoned them, or if they get the feeling of abandonment.
"Do you love your children?" she asks. The nations look to her.
"Of course." Ivan whispers. She catches his eyes and holds them for a solid minute.
"Da. That is good. Less unloved people in the world."
Note** I hope this is just a bit better than the last. Still might suck b****s, but I promise that future chapters will be better than this. Thank you Ryuu-chan for the ever helpful pointers and everyone who is still seeing this through. You are fantastic. And if there is anything still a bit too screwy about this one or in the future chapters, please, do not hesitate to tell me. Or, if you want, you may smash my head in with a rock. Whatever works for you.
And that's a wrap for now. I feel this chapter (still) isn't as good as the previous ones, but please bear with me. So yeah, little Masha here was the 'ghost' that nearly made our brave protagonists piss themselves. We'll get more into her background later on.
I thank everyone who enjoys this crappy story so far. Shout-outs go to:
theSardonyx for her willingness to be skeptical and encouraging me to keep writing.
MagicalMallori for the adorable fan art depiction of Stanley and Dmitri.
Nimphy-Ryuu-chan for correcting my Italian. (I am a dumbass living in America using Google. I apologize.)
And for the review by Alissa: Thank you and I'm glad you like it. Let me know when you post your story and I'll be more than happy to read it.
Translations:
Russian
Sestry- Sisters
Sestra- Sister
Belarusian
Moj Yurochka. Moj salodki, trochi Yurochka.- My Yurochka. My sweet, little Yurochka.