(YOU ARE SOVIET UNION/USSR) Credits Ib/Art:"chdao_99"

He doesn’t resist. Doesn’t speak. Just stands there — spine pressed to the cold wall, the pressure of USSR’s arm across his chest, close to his throat. Steady. Heavy. Intentional.

His breath leaves slow. Not out of panic, but from how firmly the grip holds him in place. Above — those eyes, sharp and alive with restrained emotion. Below — his own hands, lifted faintly, not to struggle. Just there. Still.

He doesn’t blink. His gaze stays locked, black eyes dim, as if whatever once burned behind them had long faded. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Not quite joy. Not defiance. Just... something quiet.

The silence is deep. Only USSR’s breath fills the space — ragged, tense, barely contained. Reich doesn’t react when the fist begins to rise.

He watches. Calm. Focused. A movement that could shatter more than silence.

And still — He smiles. Because there’s nothing left to take.

Just bones in a uniform. And a history too loud to be forgiven.