༻𓊈 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𓊉༺

༻𓊈𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐈𝐈: 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.𓊉༺

It only took maybe an hour, for Soviet, Axel, Z, and Prussia to return to the UAZ-3741 van that the Russian dictator had come equipped with. From a few feet away, Prussia could recognize the familiar symbol of the Russian. His hammer, and sickle. Crossed over one another.

Soviet, didn't really think too much of the dark, brown van - Which carried his symbol as a marking. Humming softly, he walked in front of the two of his soldiers, of which held Prussia up from beneath either of his arms. Glancing behind himself, he shot a smile to the winged monarchist.

Soon, though, the dictator signaled for the doors to be opened. Which the driver of the van, gladly did. The mans' face covered entirely by some kind of mask. Sighing, the dictator glanced back at the two men, whom held Prussia up. Before, waving them to the van.

"Put him in, take care of him. I need him prepared by the time we're back at the palace." Soviets' tone had been stern, showing his seriousness of the situation.

Z, and Axel both nodded in sync. They wasted no time, carefully loading Prussia into the back of the van, meanwhile Soviet had walked himself to the front passengers seat. A fenced wall separated the back of the van, from the front. Giving some space between them all.

Upon being set on the cool, iron flooring of the van, metal cuffs were applied to Prussia's wrists. Not just this, his frail legs had been strapped to the floor of the van, as well. To prevent him squirming around. While Z had began moving his legs into these constraints, Prussia groaned in pain, his head tilting back, 'till it rested on the vans' wall. As his frail legs were strapped to the floor of the back, Prussia groaned in pain.

The deep gashes in his ankles' beginning to have small branches of blood oozing down his ankle, onto the metal flooring of the van. The blood seeped into small holes that had been drilled into the bottom of the floor. From how often this has been happening recently, Soviet had a specially made blood-tray installed beneath the vehicle.

Soviet looked back, then begun to clear his throat. A sly smile visible, as Prussia looked at him through the rear-view mirror. So happy, the dictator was. He had finally got the German in a.. Bad, position. Oh how wonderful that is! Finally, he spoke.

"Oh Prussia!
When we get home.. I have a.. Surprise, for you. Only you. It requires a stretcher, a couple of.. Rusty, blades. And of course you'll get a tetanus shot.", he hummed. Yet it sounded more like that was only the start of Prussia's punishment for his acts.

Prussia sighed, shaking his head. The wound on his side being tended first, as one of the men, Axel took the thick, fuzzy jacket off of the Germans' shoulders. After they unlocked and removed the cuffs, of course. Prussia groaned as hydrogen peroxide was poured into the open wound. Puss rose to the top of the wound, yellow puss slowly seeping from the wound - rolling down the side of his body. Blood slowly began to ooze down his side as well.

The peroxide, mixed with his bodily fluids just ran down the entire side of his body, painting him in his own fluids. His torso burning horribly, the German couldn't help but mumble swears, and hiss lowly at the pain. He hadn't wanted to give the Union any more amusement, then he'd gotten just an hour and a half ago.

After a couple minutes, a needle was taken from a small kit Astene had pulled from the aid-kit they had with them, Prussias' head immediately snapped to the direction of Axels' right hand, which held the thin, pointy needle with his thumb, pointer, and middle finger.

Suddenly, Prussia began to shake his head. Biting his bottom lip. He slowly began to squirm his legs around, growling in pain as he did so. His little squirms, made it so the constraints wrapped around his thigh, knee, and shin were tightened - To the point, it felt like he was losing blood flow.