Can't Catch a Shadow

Four months later.

Hetalia ran over the obstacles, dodging bullets and staying out of the lighted areas. She slid through the mud under the body of a truck, contorting herself to fit in the small space. Her heart hammered against her chest, she had to be faster.

She turned the corner and jumped over the barricade and into the open space free of dangers.

The bright florescent flood lights turned on, illuminating the teen as she stood in the center of the all white room at the end of the obstacle course. She stared at Glendayle in the observation chamber as she scribbled something on her clipboard.

“Good job,” she finally said over the intercom. “That’s your best score yet.”

Hetalia didn’t acknowledge her. Since she had come to Glendayle Institute, she had been put under countless tests. It wasn’t until she started the obstacle course tests did she realize that she was being tortured into being better than average. Once a month, she would complete this very same test, have a brief evaluation, and then have her feet split open again so she would not be able to escape.

Glendayle set down her clipboard and some of the staff quickly grabbed Hetalia, pinning her down and pulling out the long, menacing scalpel. They dragged the metal across the soles of her feet, letting her blood pour out as she cried out in pain, but she didn’t fight it. She hoped she would soon find the key to avoiding these terrible tortures.

****

Two weeks later

Hetalia was lying on her bed as Dr. Greysolon examined her feet after finishing a full checkup. “They seem to be healing normally,” he said as he replaced the grungy old bandages with fresh white ones. “You’ve got a great healing system.”

“That doesn’t sound very medicinal,” she said coolly as she crossed her arms across her chest. “Wouldn’t saying my immune system is great say the same thing?”

Dr. Greysolon laughed, shaking his head so his messy mop of hair shook, too. “It’s not technically your immune system that heals cuts. True, the immune system fights the infections that enter your body through the cuts, but it’s actually a huge party with your epidermis and dermis cells.”

Hetalia nodded, pretending like she knew what he was talking about. As the doctor continued his work, Hetalia examined him in return. He looked like he was in his twenties or thirties, so he was probably fresh out of med school. He always wore a button-down and a tie to work, usually with a cardigan, black jeans, and black and white Converse shoes. His hair was always disheveled, and there was hardly a day where he didn’t have stubble on his face.

“How long have you work for Glendayle?” Hetalia finally managed to ask.

“Let’s see,” he said. “I’m 27 now, so…five years? No. It’s almost six years now.”

“And Madame Summers?”

“For 15 years and counting.”

Hetalia’s mouth gaped open. “Why for so long? I mean, you two are the nicest people I’ve met and you work for someone as cruel as her?”

Dr. Greysolon nodded. “It could be worse, really. I mean, there’s nuclear testing going on all over the place, especially at home.”

“Your from the States, da?”

Greysolon nodded. “And I assume you’re from Russia?”

Hetalia nodded in return. “Da. I was born and raised there.”

Greysolon nodded and stood, brushing off the front of his shirt, and buttoning up his cardigan. “Well, all looks well. I hope you heal up completely rather soon.”

“Why’s that?”

A small smile played on the doctor’s lips. “Well, I hope for your well-being as well as everyone else’s, and Glendayle is thinking of sending you on your first mission in a few weeks.”

****

One month later.

Hetalia stood as Madame Summers adjusted the ball gown she was wearing. “Stay still, child.”

The blue silky fabric was tight against her body. “It’s awfully tight, Madame,” she said uneasily.

“It’s not tight, darling, it’s form-fitting. Now, stop complaining.”

The dress was a classic style of ball gown that was long enough to cover her bandaged feet in her pumps and wide enough to conceal a variety of weapons and instruments that would be required for the mission.

“Remember what we’ve taught you, darling. Don’t let on, keep that smile, and for God’s sake, please keep your back straight with a smile on your face.”

Hetalia giggled a little, letting her smile show threw. “What day is it today? Tell me some things so I can stay in conversation.”

“It’s the second of May. Nothing really exciting is happening, but you should know enough history to keep up.”

“The second of May?” Hetalia asked. “It’s my birthday. I’m fifteen today.”

Madame Summers nodded. “I wish you didn’t have to spend it like this.”