Hello all! A quick word to the wise, my imagination is pretty f*cked up and I feel particularly morbid right now, so if you are faint of heart or just in general a wuss, then run a couple laps, man up, and read on! Sorry, I feel mean in general at the moment, and poor Canada will be my first victim!

MWA HA HA HA HA HA HA

but in all seriousness, there will be some scary shit here so if you can't handle it, then go watch some My Little Pony or something sissy like that... (oh crap, now I'll have the freaking bronies after me again... bring it on...bring. it. on...)

Another Warning: There will be Blood. Lot's and lot's of blood. Maybe not immediately, but soon. (gotta build up the suspense!)

Maybe a character death or two, but I will tell you for sure that some of our beloved nations sanity's will be lost in the process of the story,

lets see... what else... um... well, nation and human names will be used interchangeably, and... oh right! I don't own Hetalia!

*grins evilly* So with that out of the way... *eyes glow* enjoy my pretties...

Blood.

One drop... That's all it takes...

One drop...One drop...

"...Kumajirou? Is t-that you?" Canada jumped when the floorboards under him creaked again. He began to tremble uncontrollably. It was completely dark in the small cabin. He had just gotten back from the world meeting, nobody had noticed him, all he wanted was to go to sleep, but a noise interrupted him. He just wanted to find his pet and go to bed. Matthew's mind kept wandering back to a particularly large and scary nation who seemed to notice him earlier... "notice" meaning staring evilly at. But why would he of all people be interested...

"... who are you?" Canada froze up suddenly, his heart not even daring to beat before he sighed when he recognized his pet's small voice.

"I'm Canada, your owner, don't scare me like that..." he picked up the small furry white bundle and buried his face in the baby polar bear's fur.

"Da, nobody wants you to be afraid."

Canada squealed in terror when he saw Russia. The nation towered over him by a full foot, but it felt like more. He had a dark aura swirling around him, his long coat, scarf and light hair fluttered wildly as if he was standing down a vicious storm. He tried to keep the innocent smile he always had, but his violet eyes were widened slightly in some maniac delight, his lips unable to fully close. Indeed, he no longer looked like a nation, but a great beast. Canada, who felt intimidated if someone looked him directly in the eyes*... well, it is safe to assume that "scared out of his wits" wouldn't even begin to cover what he was feeling.

"You're Amerika's bruder, da?"

Canada gulped, and buried his face deeper into the oblivious bear's fur and backed away from the approaching Russian.

"No need to be afraid comrade, I just need your help with something..."

He glided closer. Canada backed up against the wall and squeaked again in surprise and fear

"...won't you help me? I just need you to test something for me..."

His words were meant to be comforting, but they were slurred by the angry force that it took to have the words leave his ragged lips. Canada slid down to the floor, squeezing Kumajirou even tighter. He began to whimper pathetically, wilting under the pure force of the russian.

"...da, I want you to help me be free. If you help, then if something goes wrong, nobody will notice your absence. Nobody would notice if you go messing, although I'm sure the blood would start to smell after a while..."

Canada flat out fainted on the spot. His pale eyes were clenched closed, later they had started to strain under the stress of how wide they were in fear. At some point some tears leaked out, then when Russia mentioned blood, his eyes rolled back in his skull and with a small moan, his limp body sunk further to the ground. Russia calmed down. Now that little Matthew was out of the way, it would make his job much easier.

He took out The Knife. He admired The Knife. It was given to him as an anonymous gift, it came with a sunflower. He twirled it between his fingers in a loving way, despite all the pain it has caused him. The deep silver metal gleamed dully in the moonlight of the chilly cabin, the blade had a rusty red shine to it from his own blood. Russia looked down to see the unconscious nation to decide how best to carry out the experiment. He let the blade dance lightly over the shivering pale skin of the half transparent nation. Whatever the bears name tried to attack him, but Ivan just causally kicked him to the opposite wall. The loyal pet gave a shudder, then went still, the moonlight illuminating his now blood stained fur. Ivan didn't necessarily want to do this, but since he had no choice, why not have fun with it?

He contemplated where to slice first, when the engraved words on the ancient hilt caught his eye,

"All It Takes, Is One Drop"

The large nation smirked, The Knife had a point, there was no need to be messy or wasteful. God knows he had enough of that in the past week. So he just rolled up the arm of his victim's sweater just enough to expose a little skin. He took a calming breath, and carefully sliced open a thin and shallow slit of Canada's arm. He only meant it to be a little nick, but The Knife still had a part of him, and it made little Ivan's heart flutter in childish delight at how smoothly The Knife glided through the flesh. Little beads of blood blooming and spreading like little springtime flowers. As soon as Canada'a blood completely stained the gray blade, The Knife let go of Russia, and claimed it's new master. Ivan dropped the blade in wonder. It had been so easy, he was free. Free. Free! He toke a gulp of air, gasping as if it would would be his lastbreath. After several moments of relishing his freedom, he put The Knife in Matthew's hands to his delight, he unconsciously gripped it in his fist in a confident, aggressive, yet protective way. A little smirk came to Canada's face as he pulled the knife closer to him. Ivan thought it was a pleasant change, the shy smile replaced with a cold smirk and clutching a proper bloody knife instead of a teddy bear wannabe. He wasn't even conscious yet and one could see the change already.

This assured the russian that it had worked. He looked down in jealousy for a moment at the power that the Canadian held, but then shook his head, when thoughts of killing to get it back crossed his mind. That's how he got into this mess. Russia stood up, satisfied and began to leave when a loud and obnoxious voice called out

"Hey you commie bastard! What are you doing here? What have you done to Mattie! Get back here!"

He just strode up to Alfred, smiled, and walked outside and away from the cabin, ignoring the profanity's thrown at him from the outraged American. As much as he wanted to slaughter the man, he had enough killing for now. Plus, he had better ways to celebrate his freedom, most of them involving a hell of a lot of vodka.

Alfred promised himself that next time he would kill the commie bastard, but now he had to be the hero and save Canada! He stopped his train of thoughts right there when he saw his unconscious brother. He rushed up to his side and checked his pulse, his heart was still beating and his breathing was regular, if a bit shallow. He didn't seem hurt besides a long, but shallow cut on his arm. America tried to wake him up. He leaned over to shake his shoulders when suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his side. He looked down in horror to see that fresh blood was soaking through his shirt. He saw the knife sticking in him, and followed, with blurry eyes, up the arm holding it, up to the uncharacteristically vicious expression on his brother's face. Matthew had an unnatural gleam in his eyes. He looked down in childish wonder at the pretty color the blood was making. He subconsciously pocketed the knife and stood up, shoving the whimpering american off with his foot. Alfred didn't, no, couldn't understand what in the hell had come over his little brother. He stood up to try to follow him, but started to collapse from loss of blood and shock. Canada caught him, with the knife, adding another pretty cut to the american's lean shoulders. America couldn't say anything but "why?" repeatedly. Canada sneered cooly at his immature brother. He would never be forgotten again he promised himself. He had to tear his sadistically glittering eyes away from the lovely blood puddling around his brother, he had some work to do. He stroked the knife in his pocket comfortingly. A snow storm had started up since he had gotten home, but he couldn't care less, the swirling winds only served to add to the tingle that was running up and down his spine. He was slightly scared of what happened, but the feeling of confidence and power was so new and exciting that his fear was completely forgotten. He noticed his cut on his arm and froze in his tracks. He never noticed how pretty it was. Before tonight, he would have been squeamish at just the mention of blood, but now... he sat down cross-legged and began to play with the slowly oozing blood. He used it as paint to make pretty pictures in the snow around him and he squealed in delight when he pressed his arm to make it bleed more. After a while, the cold air had numbed his arm enough to slow down the bleeding. He rolled up his sleeve with a pout.

I guess I'll just have to find some more...

America lay there on the floor in utter shock. What the hell could have come over Canada? He felt faint and when he tried getting up, he only fell back down again. He took out his cell phone with a groan of pain it took to twist around to take it out of his pocket. He dialed a number and waited impatiently for it to be picked up.

"Hello there git, what do you want..."

"Yo Britain! dude! How's it going..."

"Look, I'm busy right now, so unless you have something to say then..."

"No wait! I actually need your help here..."

"For the last time, I'm refuse to watch another one of your silly horror movies, last time you ended up practically trampling me in your effort to run away..."

"I was trying to protect you from the ghost and be the hero! and no, that's not it this time..."

A sharp shock shot up** America's spine and he gasped in pain as his vision blurred...

"Listen, I'm busy, if you want my attention you should've thought of that before you got your independence..."

"Pfft, your still hung up on that..."

"I'm hanging up now..."

"NO WAIT! I actually need your help! Canada's gone crazy and stabbed me!"

"Wait, WHAT? Who's Canada?"

"Dude, I don't feel too good..."

"Where are you? Are you alright?"

"Just make sure to protect Canada..."

"Aw bloody hell no! you are not going to die on me..."

"Also, I just wanted to say I r-really do care for you..."

"Shut up! Just tell me what's going on..."

"Goodbye...Britain..."

"...America?"

"..."

"AMERICA!"

"... dude I totally got you!"

"Why you..."

"Chill out dude! I mean I am kinda stabbed and all..."

"When I see you..."

"Ha ha! I wished I could've seen your face..."

"THAT'S IT! I'M COMING OVER THERE TO PERSONALLY KILL YOU MYSELF YOU BLOODY WANKER!"

The line went dead, Alfred hung up his phone with a small smile in place. He knew the only one who would help him would be England. England would only ever come to America's side if he thought he would have something to gain, namely, in this case being the one to personally kill Alfred.

Don't worry peeps! There will be more blood soon i promise, my pretties! You guys have no clue how much I had to edit out most the bloody parts already, I wanna build up the suspense first *cue ominous music*

Have fun sleeping tonight with the thoughts of a psycho russian with a cursed knife coming after you in your head... good luck next time! now Imagine a scary german with a cursed knife! and a oblivious pasta loving italian, whoops! spoiler! oh well! review please and have a nice, none bloody, day!

*Rant Warning: I am not kidding here! Freaking Canadians get uncomfortable if you look them in the eye when speaking! To the rest of the world that's just rude. My personal theory is, blame the moose (because it's alway's the moose's fault...).*cough* because it shows aggression if you stare a moose in the eyes right? so, it stands to reason Canadians, (who as everyone knows, are raised by moose...)

4 Hours later

...and that's why the Canadian crossed he road... wait, what was I talking about again? Ha ha! I'm just kidding about the Canadians... I love you all! Plus I live in the midwest, which is close enough to being Canadian anyway, I swear I had a point here... Oh wait! It's me! so off course it doesn't have a point! teehee!

**try saying that ten times fast...