Germany saw the red canisters next to a garage-looking opening. They were stacked, with pallets between them. He didn't see a camera, but he didn't want to risk it. God, he wished Estonia was here to create a jamming signal- actually, wait.
"Russia?" he said, softly, noticing that the respective nation was already on a computer that nobody noticed he had in that trench coat of his, one hand with his phone, and probably hotspot, running.
"Yes?"
"Jamming signal?" Germany said, and Russia seemed to evaluate punching him in the throat before he replied:
"Of course," and after a few seconds he spoke again, "it's up."
Germany stalked over to the canisters, reading the labels, Poland staying a few steps behind him. He found ketamine, chlorine, phosgene, and sulfur mustard, last. He looked up at the vent system- he had no idea how he could rig this place up without it, and wondered for a moment if he'd be able to fit before he looked at the mismatched group in the trees.
"Have you found it?" the voice came gruffly into his headpiece.
"Yes," he replied, "now I just have to figure out what to do with it."
He pulled out a canister of phosgene- out of all of these, this was probably the most dangerous, since it would be hard to spray the mustard gas without a mister system or something like that.
"Hey," Poland said, "look at this."
Germany turned around, walking up to where he was standing. There was one blue canister among all the others, which he hadn't noticed. On the label, he noticed 'TCDD'.
"Agent Orange," he whispered. God, he'd dealt with it way too much. America's favorite treat for forested areas- and, he was guessing, from it being here, genetic manipulation.
"Can that be used...?" he asked. Germany looked up at the vents again.
"Need something to spray it," Germany replied, pulling it out of the rack. England came up beside him, and he flashed him the label. England took a few steps back, even though the canister was completely sealed.
"Couldn't you... ya know, 'pop the bubble'," Poland said, and Germany looked up at him. Poland had an eyebrow raised.
"Find anything?" the headpiece whispered, and Germany's hand reached up.
"Is there a highly populated area there?"
"Hm..." Zaltana paused for a second, "I have an idea. I'll open that door in a second."
The two of them in their disguises were out in only a second, and Zaltana walked over to them. She was still in the form of the man, but he was starting to look ill, which they guessed was what she was feeling.
"Oh," she said, seeing the label, "huh."
"Think it's usable?" Poland asked, putting his hands in his pockets.
"I think it's horrific to think of using it," Norway stated, "I'll throw it into the break room."
He picked it up and walked away, leaving the others to pass weird faces for a second.
"What do you need to rig this place up?" Zaltana asked, and Germany looked around. He grabbed two cans of chlorine, and one of phosgene.
"I'll need to be in the building," Germany said, and Zaltana nodded, drawing a cloak out of nowhere. She wrapped it around his shoulders, and pulled it up over his head, and he disappeared like he'd never been there.
"Like Harry Potter," England whispered, and Zaltana shrugged.
"Go do whatever, this door ain't rigged up," she said, before walking back into the building. Germany went into the building, finding a map pretty fast. He needed to get to the main hallway.
He placed the cans on the ground as he got there. People were walking through it, a few almost touching him, and he placed the cans on the ground, trying to minimize the ping sound they made.
Just as he did that, the place went on lockdown. He was nervous for a moment, before he realized that the doors were all auto-locking, and now nobody could get out. He opened the stream, holding his breath as he strolled out of the room.
People noticed the canisters in the middle of the room, but they died before they were able to reach them. Someone with a gas mask appeared and stepped over the bodies to try and close the canisters, but a stinger went into his back before he could.
Zaltana looked over the bodies. She could breath in the gas and only feel a little dizzy, which made her a lot better off than the humans.
The sulfur mustard ended up being useless, but she really didn't care. Germany, after having done that, was flooding the vents to make sure that nothing got out, and she was looking to see if she could find any prisoners.
Utah stumbled out in front of her, looking at her with wide eyes before he bolted away. She paused for a second before running after him.
"Utah!" she yelled, and he spun around- he looked scared, she noticed, and she threw her tail forward as soon as she was close enough. It went into his calf, and he fell to his knees, terrified.
"Boy, what are you doing?" she said, taking a few steps forward. He seemed to be getting sleepy, instead of calming down, "What's wrong with you?"
She went to pick him up, and he tried to wiggle out of her grasp, getting another shot of venom.
"Utah, what's wrong," she cooed, brushing the hair from his face. He continued to struggle, and she made a hard decision- giving him even more venom. He fell asleep in her arms, his chest still rising and falling like he'd run a marathon.
She sighed, brushing his long hair through her fingers, before she paused, a murder face making itself known.
Why the hell were there hickeys on her thirteen-year-old nephews neck? She took a deep breath, her ears pressing against her head as she growled, the deep noise stemming from the back of her throat.
She held him in one arm, breaking the handles off doors and looking inside. She couldn't find anything.
"Zaltana," Germany's voice came into her earpiece, and she looked up even though he wasn't near her, "come to the third hallway, we found something."
She figured out where that was soon enough.
Russia took his son from her gently, hugging him for a second. Everyone seemed to notice that this was obviously another state.
Germany pointed into the room, where a big, black dragon was. It was chained down heavily, with a large platinum muzzle on its mouth.
Zaltana walked into the room slowly, and the dragon lifted it's head. She realized, after a few seconds, that the poor creature's eyes were glazed over- that she was blind. Or at least she was pretty sure it was a she- girls were normally bigger than the boys.
The dragon growled.
"Hey, hey," she said, "Ho."
The dragon knew the command for stop, and did as it was told, bowing a head. Zaltana grabbed a ring of keys from a desk before the dragon, walking over and trying to find the one for the muzzle. It took three tries, before it came off with a pop.
Zaltana rubbed a hand over the scarred scales. Dragons were smart, and even though this one was scared and hurt she understood she was here to help her. She took off all the others, leaving no chains touching the beast. The dragon stood on shaking legs, having probably not walked in a long time, and she was obviously emaciated.
Zaltana looked around, trying to figure out how they got her in here, before seeing a storage box door in the back, rolling it up.
She walked over to the dragon, placing a hand on her lower jaw, guiding her out of the room. The creature wasn't in flying shape- one wing was cocked in a strange direction, and she guessed that she would never fly again. Germany motioned for her to come back through a glass wall at the end of the storage container-like area, and she nodded.
"Ho," she said, and the dragon slumped onto the ground, the injured wing lifted haphazardly so it didn't touch the ground.
She walked back to where the nations were, and Germany walked down a few doors, until another room with glass in the front. Strung in the center was Koko, the Blackfoot tribe.
Zaltana walked in slowly. Koko was sleeping, even with the blinding laboratory lights directly on him. She stood in front of him, before poking him in the forehead. His eyes opened immediately, and he looked at her for a few moments.
"Zala," the old nickname was the only word on his tongue, and her tail lashed, breaking the chains holding his wrists. She didn't understand how he hadn't already broken them- he was stronger than she was, and it was fairly easy for her to break them- she caught him in her arms as he fell forward, and she realized then what most of the gas was being used on. She picked her brother- who was 7'4, up easily, her face blank as ever.
They didn't find anything else, besides a stack of records that showed pictures of some of the members of her family. Conner was chained up somewhere, with lash marks on his back, and there was a mention of Maikoh being in the same containment center.
Jolon was there too, but that was all they knew. There were coordinates, but now was not the time to get them. The dragon waited until she came back, and she laid Koko over her back, Russia copying with Utah.
She supported the dragon's chin as she stood up. Normally, it would be expected for a dragon to just kindly follow behind the one leading, but this dragon couldn't see, so she didn't expect it.
She opened a large portal against the side of the building, walking the group out into the garden. The dragon laid down as fast as it could, around the fountain, and she took Koko off her back, with Russia getting Utah.
She walked into the main hall, the others coming up behind her.
Alaska hissed, the floor starting to heat up to a bright yellow. Someone was studying her tolerance to temperature, which was, unfortunately for her, only a tolerance to the cold- not the heat, meaning that half of this experiment was only torture for her.
She tried to get up higher, away from the heat that started to soak up her feet- they were already harshly burned, as was her legs, and now the pain seemed to wake up once more. She cried, looking around. She knew she was surrounded by at least one wall of one-sided glass, but she didn't know which. She had to figure that out before she could try to stop the experimentation.
Her knees gave out beneath her, and she screamed, no matter how raw her throat was. Her hands dared to tap the ground and she pulled them back, gripping them onto her neck to try to create a sense that she was all here. Everything was right here.
Her own coughing surprised her, and she bowed her head just before she threw up. There was so very little in her stomach already, and it made her feel even sicker knowing how much of it was probably stomach acid, which would make her throat feel like it was on fire.
The heat started to fade, and she fell onto her side, her gaze blurry.
Zaltana looked over Utah. They were in the basement, Utah in a containment center used for protests and massacres. Illinois was beside her, as they looked into the glass bars.
They both seemed to find it eerie, that they had to lock up family as if they were the same people behind it all. Utah stirred, and she studied him carefully.
He looked up at them, backing up against the wall. Illinois tilted his head, before covering his mouth with a hand.
"He doesn't recognize us," he said, "he was trained to become a pawn on the board."
"At all?" Zaltana said, walking over to the glass. Utah seemed to cringe into the corner, tears welling in his eyes.
"Handler! Handler!" he yelled, and Zaltana looked over to Illinois for an explanation.
"Handler, the person who handled him..." Illinois paused, "he... was a pedophile, and was really good at psychology. He trained him to be obedient. He was killed by the gas."
"Such a shame, I would have loved to kill him myself," Zaltana said, "Illinois, can you show him a few things? Make the poor boy calm down."
Illinois nodded, showing him a few flashes of his own memories- him looking down at a toddler Utah, who was sticking his tongue out at him, Utah getting carried around by Zaltana as she sung Katyusha. Him beside the other quadruplets, Alfred fixing his little bowtie before he took a photo.
Utah seemed to look between them, before pushing himself back, shutting his eyes tightly. He looked strangely at the floor, before sitting down in the corner, his knees drawn up to his chest.
"What's he thinking about?"
"How much he wants to behave," Illinois said, solemnly, "he doesn't want to be bad because he thinks he'll get hurt."
"What about when he was good?" Zaltana asked, and Illinois gulped.
"Well, his 'handler' would... pet his hair, rub his neck... or... rape him," his hand reached up to his neck, and Zaltana hissed. Not at anything specifically, just to get that little sliver of pure hatred out.
"Flash your memories of him, I'll pet his hair," Zaltana said, walking into the containment. Utah looked up at her, and she knelt down beside him, petting his dark blond hair gently as Illinois brought up every memory he had of Utah- well, any he could think off.
After about half an hour, Zaltana left the room. Utah was much more mellow, but he still wasn't back. He could still falter, and to the two of them it wasn't worth the risk of him trying to go back.
They left him in the basement with a full meal and a bunch of water bottles.
Alfred tried to look around. He saw light, but he was dizzy, and couldn't tell where it was coming from. He rolled onto his back, noticing a shadow over him before he startled.
"Shh... shh..." a voice he didn't know said, and he heard the tiny clunks of someone kneeling beside his head. He felt someone touch his hair and he cringed.
"Shh... it's okay," the voice said, "I'm not going to hurt you."
When you hadn't had any contact, anything felt like heaven. He nuzzled into the hand as it cupped his cheek, his eyes closing in content. For a moment, he stayed there, as if nothing was real, until he had flashes of small, far away memories. Little things.
The little things seemed to be enough- a bundled up scarf in his arms, washing cream-colored hair, and violet eyes staring at him in the dark. He didn't know whose they were, but he didn't care.
He bit the man's palm, and he pulled his hand away, tearing the flesh in long streaks. He felt a slap against his face, and he smiled, not caring about the bruise it would leave.
"Try again, dickwad," Alfred hissed, his voice scratchy but understandable, "it will take more than that to get me to be anyone's bitch."
He could feel the scowl on the man's face before he got up and walked away, the light in the room disappearing.