The idea that started the story: I shouldn't be doing a story like this I already have three others I need to update! But I had this idea and I couldn't let it go. We were talking about Hungarian songs in my band class and I happened to be discussing boxing with a friend of mine, and then I thought…Hungary = Underground Fighter! I couldn't let it go. I hope it takes off. I was also thinking of doing one of these with Mexico. (If you think I should please notify me!)But maybe with something else like underground boxing.

Human names used!

I don't own Hetalia. As much as I wish I did.

A dark figure darted from shadow to shadow in the alleyways of Berlin, Germany. It was a cold September night, with no sense of warmth whatsoever. It was a night that any sane person would not be out in.

But than again if you were an underground fighter you weren't exactly sane. And Elizaveta wasn't very familiar with the term sane. She wasn't crazy just not the average 17-year old girl.

To Elizaveta's neighborhood she was just the subject of their scorn, gossip, and pity. Elizaveta didn't need pity. The caseworker showed pity to her abusive father and gave him custody for her, as far as she could tell pity wasn't worth shit. Elizaveta couldn't stand pity, which is why the fighting ring was her favorite place in the world. Of course setting aside her mother's arms but once she died there was nothing else she found joy in but the rush of adrenaline. The feeling of triumph when she knocked a person down over and over until they surrendered. The respect she received when she was down there.

Pity didn't exist in the secret belowground labyrinth. A mess of underground rooms and passageways. Home to the most dangerous, notorious Underground Fighter society. Not unlike the mafia, they were a dangerous group, cross one person once you wouldn't see the light of day again. However, unlike the mafia they had no sense of loyalty towards each other. Their loyalty lay to the fighting; they would kill to keep their secret a secret.

Elizaveta would to. She was just like the rest, couldn't care for them, save a special few.

Just there for the object of her passion. The art of fighting. She didn't think fighting was a good thing. But she was two different people. The poor waitress girl with a disgraceful father by day, but the feared empress of fighting by night. And she was the empress of fighting; she had nearly mastered everything there was to know about it. It was her haven, from the hellhole that was her home. It was something she could empty her heart and soul into.

And she was on her way right now. To the place she felt that she belonged.

Looking behind her she stepped into an alleyway littered with the butts of cigarettes, and the occasional beer bottle. She walked to the end of the alleyway and kneeled down knocking on the brick wall three times. A brick about knee high slid open a fraction of an inch.

"Who the fuck are you?" a voice threatened.

"Who the fuck do you think Mr. Smiling death of Rainbows and ponies" she snapped back.

"Good night to you to, Lizzy love" Feliks shot back. Elizaveta could hear him walk to the other side of the wall but lost track of him when he opened a door. A door opened to her left and Feliks in his full fighter regalia beckoned her in before looking around. He shut the door and redid all the locks on the door. Starting from the top ending to the floor.

"You're lucky you're a friend I would have killed you for calling me that." She play threatened while she led them down a menacing set of stairs.

"Oh I'm so scared! I'm shaking in my tightie whities." He said back, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"You would, are they the ones with you favorite country? Or do they have care bears?" Eliza laughed ever since he told her he was gay, she befriended him; he had earned her respect by proving her thoughts of him wrong. Feliks wasn't a half bad fighter. He specialized in throwing stationary objects. Knives, needles (custom made to be long and practically invisible to the eye), and if he was out of ammo he would throw whatever was near him. Since he was her friend she teased him, and he could tease her back.

"My obsession with the way the shape of Lithuania looks is perfectly normal!" Feliks snarled.

They finally reached the foot of the stairs.

"Well I have to go warm up. My fight starts in ten minutes" he said as he walked away from her towards the right where a tunnel led to the backstage of the fighting ring.

"Okay…hey wait! Feliks! Why were you waiting for me at the door today? Usually fighters don't do something as low ranking as that."

"I had something important to tell you! Really important! But I don't have time, I'll tell you later. Wish me luck!"

"I hope you break a rib!"

"Love you too"

Smiling she turned around to the tunnel at her left and started walking. She entered a very big and very noisy stadium. Cave did it more justice. At the back was a bar with a couple doors leading off to secret rooms. In the middle there were tables with men, hookers, strippers, pole dancers. A varied crowd Eliza liked to put it. And at the front, the place that had awed Eliza. The fighting ring. A sort of boxing ring, but much more to those who fought on it. A place where your honor was laid down for the world to see. A place where it was win or die. Almost all fighters' preferred death to the humiliation of losing. Not that they were killed. The audience liked humiliation. And what was an underground fighter society without public humiliation of losers. Unless you were a rookie then they cut you some slack. Some.

Eliza settled down in a table near the entrance, she preferred not to be seen until she was in the ring. Leaning back in the cheap chair she surveyed her surroundings. She knew almost everyone here. Roger the bartender (a close friend of hers) practically all the fighters. She didn't bother to know the names of the females, unless they were fighters. Looking around someone caught her eye. Or rather a group of people caught her eye.

Sitting down at a table in the shadows, was a group of men. None of them had been here before to Eliza's knowledge. All obviously handsome the way they held themselves. One had a head of silvery hair and when he turned she saw crimson eyes. The man to his left was tall with blond hair, a classic German. He was busy talking – more like scolding— a pale man with a shock of red hair. The last person of the group appeared to be scowling, brownish hair, but looked very similar to the red head. Twins, Eliza presumed.

"Fighters and ladies…!" the announcer howled into the microphone, "Our fighters tonight! The notorious Knifeman, (an. I know! Lame name for Feliks…I couldn't think of a better one! You have one please tell me!), versus…rookie fighter, Deathtrap!"

Eliza smirked, rookies always picked dumb names. She preferred something more subtle, something with fear within itself.

Chuckling she looked onto the stage and watched Feliks beat the guy up. She could see the small knives he was throwing. Only because she had trained against him so many times before. They were so thin all you could see was the glint of the light on them. The man was down in five minutes, the audience booed.

Animals, Eliza thought looking at the pissed of male brunette in front of her. He was yelling something at the fighters but she couldn't make out his words. They almost sounded like gibberish. She flicked a bottle cap in their direction in hopes to shut him up, and the blond one looked up at her. He gave a quick once over than locked his eyes with hers.

He looked mad, irritated as if the world annoyed him and he was surrounded by idiots. Eliza liked him already. She winked at him and he blushed, she laughed at loud. Not a common sight. It always amused her how she could wrap a man around her pinky, she enjoyed playing around with them. It almost reminded her of cat-and-mouse.

Scanning the crowd the announcer picked out Eliza and motioned her backstage. Her turn was coming up. The silver haired man in front of her looked back at Eliza. She caught his gaze, and he looked her up and down. Hungary almost growled, she hated when men did that. Always thought they were irresistible. He met her eyes again and grinned. Eliza spat in his direction but his grin only widened. One of the many strippers of the place had walked up to his table and started playing with his hair. He winked at the stripper than looked back at Eliza and motioned to get up.

Eliza's eyes widened when someone you didn't know looked like they were going to come after you it didn't exactly mean an invitation to their Justin Beiber party. Standing up abruptly she jogged to the door leading to the backstage. This meant she had to walk past their table. She picked up her pace and nearly sprinted to the door. Almost pushing down one of the twins who had gotten up. Not the redhead, the one who looked like he was PMS-ing. He scowled at her and went off yelling at her in….Italian.

Eliza didn't have time to wonder she was on in five minutes, so she gave him the finger and slipped into the hallway. Looking back through the shred of space she saw the silver headed one laugh.

***Five minutes later***

The announcer walked onstage, "Fighters and ladies…the moment you have all been waiting for…the Avalanche versus….The…."

Eliza took a deep breath. She was in her element, it was her time to shine. Her empire and you could bet your life she ran it like the Dragon lady. Eliza owned that ring; this was just another moment for her to prove it to everyone.

She lived for this.

Umm Gah! Review please! I have a name for her but I'm not sure if I like it enough! If you have a name let me know! Oh and if you would like a story about Mexico like this let me know!

PockyWarriors