You Think You Can Vin This Vay? [Russia]

This was more right than she had been once, more right than she cared to admit, be it the rightness of a strange habit or the simple rightness that had always been Ivan. Her footsteps clinked almost daintily against the floor, though "dainty" was hardly the sort of word anyone would use to describe Natalya. No, she was hardly dainty, but she was perhaps better dressed than most might be on this sort of ocadsion. She saw no need to change out of her dress. Her ribbon, after all, was in her hair, and sp she did not mind if she got blood on herself. She was quite good at washing out bloodstains, anyway. It was the sort of skill one earned when they fought close-quarters, knives to throats the way she preferred to kill.

Still, the rightness: there was Ivan, her brother, and she followed not far behind. She'd always be ready to protect him, this way. She wouldn't let Ivan be hurt as Germany had been hurting the man before, the little bastard. Oh no, if Germany took one wrong step, Natalya would be ready to make him see just how wrong that step had been. What nerve, trying to blow up her brother. How suicidal. Everyone knew Ivam was untouchable. No one hurt her brother like that, no one. She didn't much care that, briefly, she would have done something similar. That was gone to the past, and it didn't do her well to think of it, even if today her hands shook suddenly and intermittently, hidden beneat leather gloves and careful hand movements so that no one would know. No one had to ever know, not until she needed to tell him. And that would hurt Ivan, so she never would tell him.

Still, perhaps it was slightly unusual that Natalya didn't have a knife flicking from wrist to wrist and hand to hand. Instead, she gripped it lightly, occasionally spinning it but not daring to do more, not when it could slip so near to Ivan under her trembling hands. She twisted it softly and slowly as she listened to her brother's voice. "Of course," she answered, somewhat in wonder. Two times? One had to wonder if Germany even understood the meaning of her brother's words. Two times was quite a number of times to get killed before getting the point. It had taken her more, once, but there had really only been one that had mattered, and it had been spectacular and dark enough for her to understand what it meant. Two times. She had thought higher of the German. He truly was an idiot, if he'd said something or acted such to require Ivan to do such a thing.

"Of course," she said, "It is easy enough to break bones and cut in ways that will not cause another death. I have a great desire to see Poland as well. He and I still have... unfinished buisness." It was business that would never be finished. The bastard Pole had held her apart from Ivan, once. He never was to be forgiven. She wouldn't hurt him too badly without Ivan's permission, of course, but she was always glad to have another chance to remind him who she really belonged to, who really mattered. If Germany could give her another chance at him, she'd be ever-so-glad. She could be non-leathal, or at least, mostly so, until that point. "Once we have learned things though, Ivan, I have a desire to teach him not to pull such tricks as with the grenade again. He will not do such a thing to you again, brother."

Oh yes. Germany would learn his lesson. He'd learn it as painfully as possible. If the man had been killed twice, clearly no other lesson would sink in, none other at all.

After that she fell silent, a shadow behind her older brother, as she and Ivan were escorted to Germany's cell. Her hand grasped around the handle of her knife. Her expression remained a thin line. Then Ivan opened the door and she watched as he stepped inside. He spoke. He stepped aside. Natalya stepped inside, prepared to protect her brother, or perhaps just take what she would from Germany. Surely the man was not so stupid that he would not recognize a threat? Her narrow eyes scanned the room as Ivan spoke, and then, she responded.

"You will tell Ivan what he needs to know," she said, holding her knife carefully on the back of a slightly shaking hand. "I cannot guarantee all cuts are clean, see," she added, voice flat, and then she quieted once more. Ivan would do the speaking. She would simply do the part that would make sure Germany spoke, yes?

Natalya, his baby sister, was by far the most terrifying person in the entire world. Some might argue against him, but after they met her, they usually came to agree. Ivan knew if anyone could pry open the German’s lips literally or figuratively, it would be her. He knew she was not the same person before this war had started, something had changed. Occasionally, he found himself staring at her longer than needed at dinner, judging the way she ate for any subtle difference. He even asked the Baltics and other nations in his homes, if they found her behaving more peculiar than normal. The usual response were shutters feeling their frames followed by a quick shake of head and a word about her being terrifying as always. Except for one time when he asked Lithuania privately, and he answered, his eyes seeming elsewhere, “Yes, she’s struggling.” He tried to pry more, but the nation back tracked from his words before explaining he had chores around the house to attend to. Ivan knew something changed, he merely could not place his finger upon it.

Nonetheless, she still held the horrifying quality that made her the perfect partner in this discussion he planned to have. It was only proven by her words, for as she spoke of bones and Poland, he felt an involuntary shutter travel through his body. If he cared for Poland in the least, he might have guilt for the boy’s future. Though her loyalty remained as she mentioned the lesson she planned for the German.

Da, the German.

He felt calmer than he had on that fateful evening, rarely would he resort to such simple violence and death. Death did not bring about answers. Germany had pulled at close protected attachments, and while Ivan could be quite patient, there were topics everyone knew not to discuss.

Germany appeared healthier than the last he had seen of him, but Ivan knew the pain personally of dehydration and hunger and suspected neither sat well with the man before him. Ivan held his smile on place, even as Germany ignored him for his sister. The slight annoyance drifting into his eyes at the fact the nation did not even think to greet him. China always spoke of Westerners rudeness. He folded his hands behind his back, a soft giggle escaping his mouth. “My sister does not need assurance from you. She is far more capable. Who is the one in chains, da?” he spoke as he playfully touched one of the chains attached to the wall.

He started to pace around the man, causally ducking and maneuvering around each item. “My time is valuable to me, and I grow quite unhappy when it is wasted. I will get straight to the point. Where is the Allegiance hiding Poland? I know it’s not in Warsaw, for my troops took the Capitol last week while you were resting,” he giggled and wagged his finger at Germany, as if scolding him, “Tsk. Tsk. You should know better than to sleep your life away.” Of course, that did not mean he had a great hold on Warsaw, nor was he close to conquering Poland, but it was steps in the right direction.

Why should Germany bother to greet Russia? The entire point of a greeting is to express some sort of goodwill and welcome upon seeing someone. And he can't say that he feels any sort of goodwill or welcome toward Russia at all at the moment, so even 'hello' would be a bit insincere. If someone is to expect politeness from the German, one needs to show him even one ounce of politeness in return. He'd started off by being polite - unfriendly, yes, but respectful enough. It's the Russian that's been dragging this series of interactions further and further into the mud - Germany simply isn't afraid to stoop to the same level and even take some enjoyment out of it.

But when it comes to Belarus, he has a different feeling entirely. He and Russia have had so many points of conflict that he's willing to consider the man to be some sort of a worthy adversary - at least when he's not being an absolute Arschgesicht like he's been since they ran into each other in Poland. This young woman, on the other hand, can prompt from him a feeling that the Russian could never dream of being directed at him - guilt. Every time Germany thinks that maybe, just maybe, he might have gone a bit too far against the man, he instead gets quick confirmation that he did nothing that wasn't completely deserved. So as far as he's concerned the balance sheet between them is even, or close enough that the difference doesn't really matter. With his sister, though, he's deeply in the red and he knows it.

It would be a lie to say that Germany isn't destructive and cruel - he was then and he still is - but the compassion she sees in his eyes now is just as much a part of him. It was back then too, but it had been practically set aside by the time he'd come upon Russia's little sister. His country had been weak, suffering deeply under the punishments that the other nations had decided to inflict upon him after the first world war. But then they found what that thought was their salvation - a new Boss with new ideas that pulled Germany out of that miserable state and made him strong again. It had been a surprise when his Boss sent him to look after Austria, but it hadn't seemed like such a big deal when the other nation didn't put up a fight (aside from being irritating as always). Poland had been asking for it for a long time. And after that... it just became easier and easier to follow orders. He'd had his doubts, which he now strongly wishes he'd listened to, but they were being very successful - it seemed as if the world was almost in his grasp.

He'd failed to notice how it all had affected him, how it had hardened him. By the time he'd reached Belarus his orders to kill and destroy had simply seemed to make sense - unlike her more cooperative sister, Natalya fought hard to defend her brother so she had to be destroyed. He'd become so blind to what that meant... So the way that she answers his question causes a hint of sadness and regret to touch his features as he simply says, "Ja..." He's seen her with this look about her before. At least it's not his fault this time, but he does sincerely wish that he could see her doing better. It only makes his desire to free not just her but everyone that Russia's dragged into his house grow even stronger.

But as she speaks of the present situation, it's not so difficult for him to pull his mind from the past. In fact, there's almost a hint of amusement around his features at her confidence, but that's something he has in large measure himself. "I knov you don't give up, but I knov hov difficult I can be," he responds, gently correcting her. But as she spins the knife, he can't help but watch the proof of just how used to it she is. He doesn't think that he's being overconfident, but he knows what's ahead for him will be very difficult. He's not one to shy away from difficult things, though.

With his attention so occupied by the blade, it's almost as if he doesn't hear the Russian happening to mention that Warsaw has been taken. But how is he expected to react to that? He has no reason to believe that Russia is even telling the the truth, except that he does know for a fact that Poland isn't there. That's something easily guessed, however, and he wouldn't put it past the Russian to lie to him in an attempt to lower his spirits - especially given just how barbaric the other nation has been. If he'd been shown one degree of courtesy then maybe he'd be more able to believe him, but he has no reason to now. And even if it is true, then it simply means that it's even more critical to keep Poland's location a secret - the nation was already very weakened and that would make it even worse.

When the knife moves toward his arm, he does react, however - a reflexive jerk to try to pull it away. But though there's some slack to the chains that allow him some free movement, it's quite limited and the effort is useless. Feeling the blade against his skin, he can feel the rapid beat of his heart - can she tell? His eyes travel from the blade against his arm to meet her eyes as he simply says, "I'm afraid you vill have to hurt me, Fräulein." But perhaps he actually deserves it, coming from her.

Hmph. Germany continued to try to play nice. Honestly, Natalya wasn't certain of why he bothered at all. She certainly didn't. Most people, she found, tended to be hidden monsters of the sort they'd never admit to being in nice company. She found it much more honest simply to be the monster everyone knew she was somewhere. Other Nations didn't bother to be so honest, though, and apparently Germany was among them. Shame. It would have, perhaps, been a little bit more interesting if he'd stopped trying to be so nice about everything. He didn't have to lie to her.

The problem was that Natalya was busy seeing sympathy in Germany's eyes as he replied to her in an almost subdued voice. She didn't particularly like that. It wasn't so much that she couldn't do her job with the man trying to be nice (on the contrary, she found his sympathetic tone slightly irritating and would have no trouble trying to change it) but it did make it a little bit harder, mostly because it seemed to be simultaneously irritating Ivan. Most of the time, Ivan kept his head cool in these sorts of affairs, but he had apparently killed Germany twice at some point before now, which indicated to Natalya that Germany had said or one something a little more stupid than he should have and had gotten Ivan much more mad at him that he should have. When Ivan was irritated, it slowly made her irritated as well at whatever was irritating her brother, and then what would have otherwise been a relatively calm affair would likely have a little bit too much emotion injected into it altogether, and nothing useful would manage to occur. 

He also seems to be busy underestimating her. Well perhaps not- his eyes occasionally flick back towards her knife, though it's quite rare. He's holding himself with such discipline. Oh well. That was likely to change, or so she assumed, even at the oddly gentle amusement in Germany's voice. Natalya yet to meet someone who completely retained their composure when she didn't want them to, except perhaps for the irritating American. Then again, Alfred rarely had a 'composure' to uphold, and she suspected the closest he ever got to upholding one was by forcing that irritating laugh out again. Germany, despite his discipline, would likely display that fact soon; he'd even already flinched away slightly at the press of her knife. She was less certain he'd tell her anything, which was a shame- she'd so wanted to remind the Pole of her existence.

It was funny, actually. She probably could have had Poland's location in a much shorter time if she'd tried interrogating someone else, but she had struck a deal with Lithuania regarding that matter. He had caught her trembling curled up on her bathroom floor early in the morning before she could take the fever reducers she had hidden. She'd caught him on the phone with someone he clearly wasn't supposed to be on the phone with shortly afterwards, likely using some of Estonia's help to prevent the bugs Ivan had almost everywhere from catching his conversation. But if nothing else, Natalya and Lithuania had lived together for centuries in the past and understood when deals needed to be made to keep the tenuous not-quite-peace between them. That had mostly collapsed, once upon a time, when Natalya had been chasing Ivan blindly and when time had twisted it until she thought it had always been hate. They'd restored it somewhat now, and, loath as she was to admit it, she did not want to see it broken. Especially not over that particular deal, not when they'd both established centuries ago that when one half of a deal was broken, the other half would quickly be as well. Lithuania could be surprisingly brave sometimes.

And if in keeping that arrangement she was torturing Germany instead of going an easier route, well, she couldn't really quite regret it. She only regretted that it meant hiding things from her brother, but Ivan was hiding things from her as well, probably more than what she was hiding from him. Nothing could be done, yes?

And yes, there it was- Germany was denying Ivan answers. Natalya had expected it, she really had. She waited for her brother to move before she began, taking the knife that was pressed against Germany's arm and quite suddenly streaking it upwards, making a large cut as she did so. She didn't speak. She saw no need to. Instead, she finished pressing the knife up the entire length of his arm, a massive cut but not quite deep enough for a Nation to bleed out, waiting for the German in front of her to speak. She suspected he wouldn't.

Oh dear.

Ivan sat on the bed, looking quite comfortable, his foot twisted in the air, as he watched the scene with an ever present smile. Some might accuse Ivan of enjoying torture, but that was hardly reality. Ivan had no qualms participating in questionable tactics if it benefited the great good. However, he did not enjoy to see others suffering or in pain. He did not wish for others to hurt, but he knew it was not his choice. They gave Ivan little options. If they were not stubborn, he would not be required to hurt them. Germany, on the other hand, he felt little guilt. The man deserved the pain and punishment handed down upon him. Not only for his poor behavior on the Eastern Front, but for his multiple betrayals in the past. Every time Ivan considered the man a friend, the sharpen knife would be thrust into his shoulder blades.

Germany deserved punishment, and far worse punishment than a few slashes that could heal easily. He trusted Belarus to handle the man properly, the woman had always been quite skilled in helping people talk. But as he witnessed the scene he noticed the lack of fear within the German’s eyes. He found it strange because Ivan found his sister truly terrifying. When she had become a bit…obsessive…he had spent many times hidden in his closet, curled in a ball, begging for safety. Even as she was now, Ivan still found his sister scary. She could easily ignite dark shivers down his back with a cool gaze or well-placed words. Yet there Germany stood, unaffected, only wincing at pain as if taking a shot.

If it continued this way, they would get very little value of information. He stood up without a word to either on walked to the door of the cell, opening it with his code. He muttered to the guard before turning back to the group before him. He clapped his hands together, his voice sweet as he spoke, “It’s quite kind how you protect Poland so.” He moved out of the door as a guard brought in a chair. Ivan took it in hand, picking it up. “However, we are only on the first question,” he sat the chair behind Germany and placed his hand on his shoulder. “There are still so many to go,” he remarked with a sweet smile before pushing the German down into the chair. The chains tighten and shook.

His guards came in with a large bucket of water and quickly left. “Sister, I might need your help,” he smiled sweetly as he gripped the blonde’s hair and jerked the German’s head back. He took a rag and pulled it over the man’s face. 

“I ask again, where is my little Poland, Germany?”

Out of all the terrifying things that exist in the world, there are many that frighten the German. Being the practical man that he is, a lot of them have to do with things like the question of what would happen if the Joint Pact wins this war, for instance. And for everyone there's always the fear of the unknown - sometimes it's much more frightening to be unsure of a situation than it is to face one that you already know is horrible. But though it would be a lie to say that he's not at all frightened by Russia's sister, the level of fear that Germany has for her is quite low compared to many - as both of them are seeing. Not that he'd call Russia a coward for being frightened of her - he'd imagine that she's more frightening as a suitor than as a torturer. Or at least she would be to him.

What affects him far more than fear in this situation is the pain. He may be able to take it with only a breath, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't feel it. But pain, like fear, is relative - he's been cut by a knife before. Many, many times. So he can feel the pain and not let it consume him, at least if it's only one shallow cut, whether it's well-placed or not. It does, admittedly, help that he's no mortal human but a nation - and not a weak one at that. Healing is hardly an instant thing, but he does heal quite quickly so the pain just doesn't last as long as it might have. Though, on the other hand, it means that he can endure more of it.

That glint in her eyes catches his attention though, but it doesn't fill him with terror. Instead he meets her gaze with one of his own - there's that hint of amusement again, it can be seen in his eyes. His eyebrows lift almost skeptically, and then he jerks his chin as if encouraging her closer. If she thinks that she can give him real pain, he's clearly up for the challenge.

Though it seems that perhaps she won't have the chance - he gives the Russian a long-suffering glance when their exchange is interrupted and he's pushed into the chair, offering no resistance. And he gives no sign of complaint about the rough way he's handled when the rag is placed over his face - somehow he doesn't think that any protest he could make would convince the man to do any different, so why should he try? He doesn't bother to make any sort of a response to the question at all. Instead he says, "Your brother does not appreciate the art of torture, does he?"