America hadn't expected this. He just went home and took a nap. Now he's… here. He sits up and finds that his hands are chained above his head. His breath hitches. Who could've taken him here? Plenty of nations want to get back at him, but who would actually do it? He tries to think, but his thoughts can't beat the growling hunger of his stomach and his dry throat. He hadn't really eaten as much as usual before he went home. He wasn't feeling well. He wishes he had eaten more. He sees a tall, dark figure walk down a stairwell across the room.

That dark figure chuckles as his foot hits the bottom step; the floorboard of the step creaked beneath his weight. He steps onto the hard cement ground, his boots making a clicking sound each time his heels hit the floor as he walks closer to America. His dark figure looms overhead of the disheveled man beneath him. He takes his pipe out of his coat. He brings the top part of it under America's chin, lifting it up slightly so they're looking into each other's eyes. "Sweet Alfred," Ivan leans closer to him, their noses only a few inches apart. "You were so easy to kidnap."

America is surprised at first to see Ivan, but then he realizes how stupid that is. Of course it was Russia. Of fucking course. He spits in the man's face and scowls. "I may have been easy to take but a hero never fails! Heroes always win!" He yells in his usual egotistical tone. Russia takes the pipe and swings it hard across America's face, cutting into it slightly and making a not-too-small spot of blood appear. He wipes off the spit with his gloved hand. "You don't get it, da?" He smiles maliciously, the darkness of the room accentuating his features.

America yelps at the pain. It made him see stars. The blood starts to drip down his cheek and he shakes slightly from the shock. "I get that you're a murderous psychopath!" He shouts, struggling at the chains on his wrists. He can already feel his wrists going raw. "Silly Alfred," The name rolls off his tongue like honey dripping from the comb. It's said sweetly and sounds like it's been practiced before. "You don't understand that this is something you won't win at, and no one will save you from this."

"I will win! The hero always wins! No matter what!" Alfred shouts at the top of his lungs. He won't let his hope be stomped on by a commie. He needs hope right now. He is honestly scared of what Ivan is going to do to his. But he just has to keep saying that he's a hero. That he will escape. Ivan sighs. He turns his back to Alfred and walks away. "The hero is only loved for what they have done. Not who they are, but Alfred," he turns back around, facing him. "You don't understand that people don't like you. They'll be glad that you're gone."

"You can't kill a hero!" Alfred shouts, but there is a quiver in his voice. Mattie wouldn't miss him? Iggy wouldn't miss him? "Everyone loves a hero!" He shouts, trying to convince himself once more. He takes heavy breaths and tries to ignore what Ivan is saying. None of this is true. It can't be. "Everyone loves what a hero does, Alfred." He steps closer to him, their faces inches apart again. "Have you heard the things that England says behind your back? What about what your dear Matthew says?"

"Iggy loves me! Everyone does! Matthew and I are best bros!" He shouts as he tries to kick Ivan. "I've done many great things! I'm the hero!" He glares at Ivan. "If you are, then why does everyone hate you? Even your own people prefer your brother over you." He backs up and swings the pipe at America again, hitting him in the ribs. America yells out in pain and whimpers. "They all love me! I inspired liberty for nations all over the world! My people are free! We aren't held back by the government like your people!"

"You may have inspired other nations back then, but what about right now?" Ivan laughs. "What do you care more about? The love of your family, or the love of your people?" Ivan asks. "What do you care more about?! Your people hate you!" He yells. He doesn't answer the question. He doesn't know how. Ivan brings the pipe over his head, and swings it down, hitting him in the shoulder. "Answer the question." Ivan demands. Alfred yelps once more. He feels like his shoulder has been stomped on by a metal cleat. "I-I care about the love of my family, of course!"

"They don't care about you. They might have, but not anymore. They hate you." Ivan laughs in a mocking kind of way when he says these few words. "No they don't! They love me! They all do!" He shouts louder than he has before. He won't take this; he can't let Ivan break his spirit. "Have you heard the things England says behind your back?" Ivan fakes a British accent. "I wish that American twat would shut up sometimes. God I hate him." Ivan smiles maliciously. "SHUT UP YOU FUCKING LIAR!" He yells at the top of his lungs. "Maybe if your people loved you, your precious Anastasia would still be alive!"

"Well maybe if you didn't refuse to go with Amelia, then she would have lived, da?" Ivan says nonchalantly. He was not going to let America hurt his pride by mentioning Anastasia. "SHE WANTED TO GO ALONE. IF I WENT THEN THE FAME WOULD'VE GONE TO ME! AT LEAST SHE WASN'T EXECUTED BY HER OWN PEOPLE!" America yells. "You loved her, didn't you? Didn't it almost kill you when she didn't return? Those months upon months waiting? Until... " He pauses. "Nothing?"

"How did it feel watching your love die?! At least mine died doing what she loved!" America gulps. "Did Amelia know you loved her before she left? Did you say it to her? Or did you keep is a secret like the coward you are?" Ivan asks. "Would a coward stand up to his big brother?!" America demands. "And I did tell her! Right before she left!" Tears brim his eyes at that grim memory. "Did you tell Anastasia? Or was she assassinated before you got the chance?"

"I don't think you are in a position to be asking questions." Ivan says to him. He sees America's tears and realizes that he finally has him at a breaking point. "You're a coward, Alfred. You are. You let your family and your people hate you and you're too scared to change anything." Ivan smirks. "My people don't hate me…!" Alfred persists. "Neither does anyone else!" He is starting to believe Russia, and he doesn't want to. He knows he can't believe that way… But it's probably true.

Ivan mocks the Canadian's accent. "I hate you America! You're always taking everything from me and you expect the rest of the world to like you!" Ivan laughs at his fake impression. "M-Mattie wouldn't say that!" Alfred cries out; more tears brimmed his eyes. "You really have no idea? Well what about France? Or even… Prussia? They don't like you anymore."

"Y-Yes they do! They all love me!" Alfred starts to cry now, slumping against the wall. "No matter how many times you try to get yourself to believe that, it won't ever be true." Ivan says. "S-Stop lying!" Alfred yells, or rather, begs. "Why would I be lying about everyone hating you?" Ivan asks. "Because you hate me!" Alfred is nearly sobbing now. "Because I hate you? You're saying that, but remember the Cold War?"

"You've always hated me!" America cries. He pulls on his restraints. "I remember not even thirty years ago we were both deathly in love with each other, da?" Ivan says. America doesn't respond. Ivan leans close to him, their noses almost touching. "Do you remember that time, Alfred?" The Russian whispers. Alfred gives a strained nod. "So how could you say that I've always hated you?" Ivan persists. "It's true! You wouldn't have kidnapped me if you didn't hate me!" Alfred yells.

"What makes you say that? Your hero dilemma?" Ivan says this in a mocking tone. "You hate me because I'm a capitalist and you're a commie!" Alfred glares at him. "That's what you think." Ivan retaliates. "That's what I know!" The American screams at him. "I am not a communist anymore, da? You know, your dear family would thank me for keeping you away from them." Ivan chuckles. Alfred gulps and looks down. He starts to cry softly.

Ivan kneels in front of him and runs his hands down Alfred's sides. He lets two fingers trail down his cheek. "Don't cry Alfred." Ivan says in a caring tone. "D-Don't touch me!" America shouts. "But you're the hero, right? Doesn't the hero deserve love? So why can't I touch you and show you love?" Ivan asks. He lets his lips brush over Alfred's, barely letting them touch. "Because I hate you!" America glares at him. "You wouldn't have said that years ago." Ivan mumbles, pulling away slightly.

"Yes I would have!" Al shouts back. Ivan shakes his head. "You wouldn't have said that if you were constantly begging to be underneath me." He stands back up. "The only thing I could tolerate from you was sex!" Alfred snaps. "And you never got any." Ivan scoffs. "Shut up!" America shouts back.

Russia takes his pipe and brings it close to America's other shoulder. He lifts it over his head, and swings it down. Although he stops right before the pipe collides with his shoulder. Alfred flinches and waits for the blow. He was expecting to be hit. "You're scared, aren't you? You flinched, expecting me to his you. You've become weak."

"I'm not weak! Alfred insists. "You would flinch if you were going to have a metal pipe slammed into your shoulder." He whines. "Someone who is strong would not have cried in front of their worst enemy." Ivan says in a condescending tone. He gets on his knees in front of Alfred; he begins to runs his hands over his body. Alfred gulps. "I'm not weak…!" He says once more as he tries to kick Ivan. The Russian backhands him hard across the cheek. Alfred yelps and glares at Ivan. "You fucker!"

Ivan trails his fingers down his cheek. He brings his hand up to the cowlick that was sticking out of his hair. "What does this do, hmmm?" Ivan says, acting all innocent as he pinches the curl. Alfred gives a small moan of pleasure and seems to grow an erection. "D-Don't touch that!" he whines. "Oh?" Ivan giggles. "Why not, Alfred?" He runs his fingers along it. A small wave of moans escape his throat. "B-Because!"

Ivan leans his mouth close to Alfred's ear. "Tell me why." He whispers lustfully, licking his ear. The Russian pulls at the cowlick rather hard. Alfred shivers with disgust at the lick, but he that stops immediately when he emits a scream of pain as he ejaculates into his jeans. Ivan notices a small wet spot apear. He makes a noise of grossness and disgust. He continues to molest the hair curl. "Why did you scream?" He asks.

"T-That really hurt!" Alfred mumbles through his moans. "I wish I could show you how pathetic you sound right now." Ivan growls. He pulls at the cowlick again, but not as hard. Alfred groans louder and yelps. "You're a whore, Alfred. An easy, cheap, whore. You're a good for nothing pathetic whore whom everyone hates." He tugs the cowlick hard. Alfred screams out in pain once again and glares at Ivan. "I-I'm n-not a whore!"

"Yeah right. And you're a hero." Ivan says sarcastically. "When are you going to stop believing these lies?" He asks. "T-They aren't lies!" Alfred insists as he struggles against the shackles. His wrists begin to bleed. Ivan stands up. "Are you sure about that?" He kicks America in the stomach. Alfred gasps in pain. 'Y-YES!" He coughs. "What makes you so sure?" Ivan asks. "B-Because you're a liar!" Al shouts.

"What if I were to call up England right now and have him tell you how much me hates you, da? Then we'll see who's lying." Ivan glares at him. "H-He loves me!" Alfred whines. Ivan takes out his phone and puts in Arthur's number. He had threatened England earlier. It was a dark, dark threat. It was so Arthur could help convince America that everyone hated him. If Arthur didn't respond a certain way, Alfred, France, and Canada would all be kidnapped and put through hell. "Are you sure?"

"Y-Yes!" America sobs. Russia presses the call button and holds the phone up to Alfred's ear. "You'll be disappointed, da?" Ivan chuckles. The phone rings and Arthur picks up. "'ello?" The English voice answers. Alfred is nearly sobbing into the phone. "I-Iggy… Y-You don't hate me… R-Right?" He asks. His voice is full of pain and sorrow. He wants to collapse sobbing right now even when he doesn't know the truth.

"Don't call me that, you twat! Why are you crying? Are you drunk?" The words are filled with fake anger. It broke Arthur's heart to hear America sobbing like this. He had to utterly restrain himself from crying out and telling him how much he loved him. Alfred starts sobbing more and is almost screaming out in pain. It hurts his throat. He wants to die. The man who raised him, his big brother, hates him. He didn't even need to say those words. Those awful, awful words. "Belt up and stop crying. It does no good." Arthur shouts into the phone.

"D-Do you hate me?!" Alfred yells when he tries to calm down a little. Arthur takes as deep breath. "What do you think?" He growls-or at least tries to-into the phone. "Y-You love me?" Alfred asks, praying that this is the right answer. He is trying so hard not to break down again. Arthur can't take this anymore. He can't tell America he hates him. He hangs up and begins to let out tears. He's crying and praying that his little Alfie will be alright.

Alfred bursts out in violent sobs when the phone clicks. "K-Kill me... Oh god... Please k-kill me...!" He whimpers through his tears. Ivan puts his phone away in his pocket. He kneels in front of Alfred. "Silly Alfred, why would I kill you?" Alfred doesn't respond, he just keeps crying. He can hardly take in air. Ivan cradled Alfred's cheek in his hand and starts petting his hair, absentmindedly running his fingers past the cowlick a few times. Alfred doesn't even care about the pleasure. He just keeps sobbing. He would do anything to die right now. Ivan starts to get closer to America. He wraps his arms around him, holding him. He whispers comforting things to him to try and make him calm down.

"L-Let go of me!" Alfred screams as he tries to kick Ivan away. "Alfred." The Russian pauses. "Hush. There's no need to fight back." Alfred doesn't respond, but he gives in. He wishes none of this happened. He wishes Iggy didn't hate him. Ivan wipes Alfred's tears with the end of his scarf. He reaches his hand up and finds that the American's wrists are bleeding. "I'll need to fix this. I will be right back!" He says like a gleeful child. Ivan stands up. Alfred looks down and chokes back more tears. He would give anything to die right now. Ivan hastily hurries up the stairs and into a bathroom. He opens the cabinet and rummages through various medicines and bandages until he comes upon a roll of gauze and some medical tape.

Alfred rubs his wrist against the rough metal, hoping to slit open his vein. He can't imagine living like this, with no one who loves him. Ivan hurries down the stairs and sees that Alfred has made his wrists worse and even more bloody. In fact, they were ever so slightly openly bleeding. Ivan makes a tsk sound and unlocks one of his wrists from the shackles. "This won't do, Alfred. I can't have you doing this if I leave you here."

"Why? I have nothing else to live for..." Alfred says softly. His arm falls limp to the ground and he doesn't seem to care. Ivan scowls. Yes, he did break him somewhat, but that was too quick. He's not even fighting back. Alfred rubs his other wrist against the metal, making it bleed faster. Ivan bears his teeth, clenching them slightly. He unlocks the other cuff. Ivan smacks Alfred across the face. "You're not going to abuse yourself anymore, da?" He starts to wrap the gauze around one of his wrists. "It's not abuse. It's a suicide attempt.." Al mumbles.

Ivan slaps him again on the opposite cheek. "You're not going to be committing suicide." He tapes down the one side and then works on the other. Alfred merely winces and doesn't really respond. He gulps and tries to think of how much fun it was playing catch with his brother. But Mattie wasn't happy. Mattie got mad at him and he just laughed. Mattie probably hates him too.

"Get up." Ivan commands. Alfred slowly gets to his feet. He keeps his eyes down. "This isn't like you." Ivan sneers at him. He takes Alfred's hand and leads him to a room that has a bathroom, a bed, and a closet. Alfred doesn't respond, he just shuffles his feet. Ivan jettisons him in the room. He sets some medical tape and gauze on the floor. "I'll be back in a little while. Don't try to hurt yourself and get cleaned up."

"Okay..." Al nods and bites his lip. Ivan exits the room and locks it behind him. He goes upstairs and pulls out his phone. He dials Arthur's number. Alfred walks to the bathroom and looks around for anything he can use to off himself. There's a small bottle of painkillers. There's no razors. The bathroom is almost empty. He sighs and tries to find a sharp edge. "Russia what do you want?" Arthur shouts, still in tears. "I wanted to tell you that America is going to be fine, despite that fact that he's now broken and looking for a way to commit suicide"

Alfred finds a bent piece of metal on the edge of the sink. He breaks it off and looks at the sharp edge. He takes a deep breath and rushes to tuck it under the mattress. "W-Why would you do this to him?!" England demands, fearing for his little Al's life. "He needed to be taken down a notch, da?"

"What did he ever do to you?! He's a good person!" He yells into the phone. Alfred takes a few of the painkillers and lies down in the bed. "Let's just say we had a bad past, da?" Ivan chuckles. "So did him and I! But I'm not going to hurt him!" He sobs. Alfred falls into a fitful sleep. "Thanks for helping me out. America is going to be fine." Ivan says and hangs up the phone. He slips his cell in his pocket and goes back down the staircase. He enters the room that America was in, only to find him sleeping. Alfred curls up in his sleep and starts to mumble. Ivan walks up next to the bed and tries to listen to what he was saying. The words are unintelligible.

Ivan sits on the bed on the other side next to America. He leans over and kisses him softly on the forehead. America wakes up immediately at the small feeling and shoves Ivan away. Ivan grabs onto America's wrists even though they have the bandages on them. He squeezes hard. Alfred whines and tries to pull away. That only makes his wrists hurt more. Tears brim his eyes. "You will not push me away, da?" Al nods and looks down. Ivan wipes away Alfred's tears. He kisses him on the lips. Alfred gasps and tries to pull away.

Ivan grabs his wrists again, squeezing them harder all of a sudden. Alfred yelps and nearly yells out in pain. Ivan releases him from his grip. Alfred trembles slightly. Ivan rests his hands on Alfred's shoulders. He brings him closer to him. "I don't want you hurting yourself." The Russian says. "But you're hurting me..." Al mumbles. "You were.."

"I'm not going to hurt you as long as you don't misbehave, da?"

"I'm not a pet..." Al gulps and looks down. "I never said you were" Ivan says back. "You're treating me like one.." Alfred mumbles. "Would you rather have me leave you to die?" Ivan asks him. Alfred nods. Ivan backhands him, but not as hard as before. Al yelps softly. "You're not going to think like that, da?" Alfred forces a nod. Ivan stands up and gets off of him.

"I need to go run some errands. Do you want me to pick you up any food while I'm gone?" Alfred shrugs and looks down. He isn't really in the mood to eat. "You don't want anything?" Ivan glances down at his watch. "It's late now, and I have meetings tomorrow so I might not be home till late to feed you."

"Okay.." Alfred replies softly. He keeps his eyes down. He thinks of that metal under his mattress. "Look at me." Ivan says, slightly annoyed. Alfred looks at him and bites his lip. "You're weak. It didn't even take a full hour to break you, you coward." Tears brim Alfred's eyes. He can't even defend himself anymore.