America leered down at the Russian as he unbuttoned the other nation's pants. He drew Russia in for a messy kiss, feeling Russia's breath hitch against his own as the blond trailed his hands down his lover's body, breaking the kiss to follow his hands until he was peering up at Russia from under the desk. Playing with the zipper over the Russian's heavy bulge, America looked coyly up at his partner.
"Maybe you'd be willing to let me demonstrate what I've learned?"
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters.
TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of torture in this chapter, if you find the thought of this stressful, please skip or go to the notes for a quick overview.
After two hours of 'stress-relieving' activities and a relaxing lunch being cheesy and feeding each other bites of sliders, the duo made their way down to the holding rooms where Liechtenstein, North Italy, South Italy, and now Lithuania had been residing for just over a month. They had decided that the American would take those that were likely easier in temperament to train since he was less experienced with molding someone's mindset to his will. Meanwhile, the more difficult of the newly liberated nations, like Finland and Hungary, were currently at Russia's compound where they would stay until they were more willing to learn and become reborn into the new world order.
So far, they had been very diligent in getting the base layer of all of the nations' training ready by administering low levels of electricity through their collars strong enough to verge between being uncomfortable 24/7, along with sporadic pulses of varying strengths to keep them from adjusting to the feeling or dissociating. As nations, they should be far beyond human limitations in all aspects, including tolerance of pain, and the fact that Liechtenstein keeled over unconscious from the first day of the lowest level of electricity just showed how much work was ahead of the two nations to rebuild and show their fellow nations, as well as humanity, their rightful places in society.
They made sure that all of the nations remained in complete isolation in their soundproof cells, unable to see or hear anything outside of the four walls of their prison.
Russia and America made sure to keep a close eye the first few weeks of isolation for each nation to see how they handled the stressors tossed their way before coming up with a training regiment best suited for the captive nation. So while Prussia was relatively easy to train, quickly falling back into the mindset trained into him when he lived with Russia, Liechtenstein was… rather lacking, in comparison. Within hours of her initial wake-up, she was inconsolable,curled up in a corner crying for her big brother. She refused to touch any food or drink in the first week, and while it was understandable considering how she was drugged in the first place, it became rather counterproductive to have her too weak to start training. But when America turned on her shock collar to the lowest setting as a mild punishment to refusing her food, Liechtenstein shrieked as though she was repeatedly stabbed, and began scrabbling at her collar as if she hadn't realized it had been there this entire time. What poor situational awareness.
Now, she mainly laid listlessly on her bed, blankly staring ahead as tears streamed down her cheeks. She only moved to relieve herself or eat, having quickly learned the consequences of disobeying their silent commands. But America walked past her cell without another glance to let Russia begin her training. They had both decided that having Liechtenstein as his first nation to train wouldn't be able to provide a good first challenge to gain experience when it came to the stubborn nations they were sure to encounter later on. So America kept walking until he stopped in front of another occupied cell, putting in his access code to enter. He hummed a cheerful tune as he entered with a bright grin on his face, noting the shocked face of the cell's occupant as he straightened up his attire one last time, pausing for dramatic effect before giving all of his attention to the brunet before him.
"Sup Romano! How ya doing?" chirped America as if their current situation was just another typical day at a meeting.
"Sup? Sei uno stronzo America! What did you do to me bastard? Where's Feli? Figlio di puttana! Let me go you sicko!" screeched Romano as he rose from the bed and made towards the American with the intent to throttle, before he dropped with a scream of pain as volts of electricity surged from his collar through his body.
"I'm doing great, thanks for asking Romano. Now sit down and shut up if you want your questions answered. Hm, some manners wouldn't be remiss either actually." America responded coldly as he towered over the Italian, all traces of his previous warmth gone.
Slightly nervous, but still angry, Romano stumbled back to his bed and gingerly sat down in front of the blond nation. He had never seen the usually chipper American act like this before; he was usually just a bigger, more annoying version of his own brother Feliciano. Thinking of his brother again, who hasn't seen since they passed out in the American's arms, Romano crossed his arms and glared defiantly at the taller nation.
"What the fuck did you do to me and my brother? Why am I here in these cells with this fucking electric collar on? My stupid brother and I haven't done anything to you, so let us go, bastard."
America smiled in a patronizing manner. "It's really more of what you haven't done, but it seems like you're not really good at listening. So I'll save my breath and just show you something instead."
With that, the American tapped a few times on his watch and a screen was being projected against the wall opposite the two, showcasing a cell similar to Romano's, except for the lone figure curled up on the bed. The morose ball of person was curled up so tightly on the bed that they were almost unrecognizable if not for a familiar curl popping out from their hair.
"Feli! You bastard American! Let him go!" raged Romano at the blond in front of him.
"What manners you have," smirked America as he tapped a couple more times on his watch. "Let's see what we can do to fix that, shall we?"
The two watched the screen as three masked soldiers burst into the room. Two hauled the small Italian nation who yelped in fear as the other dragged in a giant basin filled with water. They forced the now crying nation to his knees before the basin and paused, as if waiting for further instructions.
"Pezzo di merda! Leave him the fuck alone, you bastard!" Romano cried, his voice filled with fear and anger as he watched his little brother panic on the screen. There wasn't any sound, but he could easily imagine the terrified cries that Feli was making about being in this situation. "Take me instead, just let him go, dammit!"
"Hmm, how troubling a notion Romano. You see, there are certain things I need done, orders I need completed, but it's hard to convince you to do anything, no matter how strong the nation ordering you is. Unless it's for your brother." The smirk on America's face grew a touch darker as he tapped his watch two more times.
"Feli? Can you hear me? It's America." America spoke kindly into his watch's microphone. Feliciano jerked a bit in the guards' arms, searching for the source of a familiar voice in the frightening cell he was in.
"Ve? America? Is that you? Can you help me please? I don't know what happened, but I'm sorry if I did something. Is this a prank, I don't really like it that much," whimpered Feliciano.
"I'm sorry to hear that," the American said in mock sympathy, as Romano ground his teeth in fury. He could see America's finger resting near that damn watch and figured a single sound would end with an electric shock to the neck. "But I have some things I need from you and your brother, and this seems the best way to get his compliance. I'm truly sorry for whatever you may suffer if he doesn't listen."
"What-"
The brunet didn't even get time to finish before the two guards shoved the tiny Italian headfirst into the basin, stubbornly holding him down despite the nation's struggles to break free.
A rage like nothing Romano had ever felt before surged through his body, a red haze covering his eyesight as he charged at the blond with a shriek, determined to do whatever it took to rescue his brother. The American laughed as the brunet came towards him, neatly sidestepping the infuriated older nation while grabbing the nation to slam him into the wall. The blond sneered at the pathetic sight before him before he effortlessly yanked the smaller nation further up the wall.
"Hey. Hey, knock it off!" the American ordered over the snarls of the other nation. Still getting ignored, the American suddenly backhanded Romano and watched dispassionately as the other nation thudded to the floor, shocked into silence as he stared with hate-filled eyes at America.
"Look, he's fine." Both eyes returned to the screen where they could see Feliciano, coughing up water and shivering fiercely, but no longer being drowned by the guards who maintained a loose hold on the Italian. "I mean, he's probably traumatized and terrified, but his continued wellbeing during his stay relies primarily on you, Romano. Did you hear that Feli?" The American now spoke into his microphone. "You have to rely entirely on your brother's behavior and compliance to be treated well while you're here. Doesn't that sound fun? Do you want to give him any words of encouragement?" asked the blond with a cheerful tone that felt off putting in their situation.
"'Mano!" cried a shaking Feliciano. "Please…"
"Feli! I'll do whatever I can to keep you safe…"
'…and destroy this fucking bastard along the way."
America smirked as if he heard the Italian's inner thoughts.
"Let's see how well you do then."
Word count: 1,595
Pardon my Italian, it's purely Google Translate on my part, hopefully it's correct though.
In this chapter, we see the start of Romano's 'training' session by the waterboarding torture of Feliciano to force compliance. America also gets physically aggressive with Romano, who swears vengeance.