Hey everyone ! Sorry for not updating in a while...the end of the school year and finals were hectic, but I'm back on scene now ! Even though there's only a few more chapters left...enjoy !

And I have just become an official high schooler I feel so special ! Reviews are welcome !

An intelligible snarl escaped Belarus's rabid lips, forming an animal like yowl that rumbled across the blood soaked Cornucopia plain, expressing sincere sorrow and rage at the death of Big Brother Russia. His death...was something Germany would have to die for. He'd die slowly and with the most painful torture ever shown in any of the Hunger Games throughout the years. No matter what.

The metallic scent of life juice rose from the grasses, and strewn flesh and bones crackled under her flying feet. The nation's blond hair streamed out behind her head like a exclamatory war banner. Flashes of bright steel glinted from Belarus's hands as her knives shone in the afternoon sun. About six yards in front of her, Germany stood above England's horribly deformed body, yanking the elongated ribs from his sides. The Brit's emerald eyes were glossy and translucent in death, billions of light years away. Well, he'd be no threat to a Soviet victory, at least.

In a way, it was a good thing that the female nation had been able to sneakily stalk Russia and some other unintelligent nations all those years. She was never seen. Belarus could attack without the slightest sign of a disturbance. Perhaps Germany even underestimated her. The tall nation's broad back was but a few feet in front of her, still hunched over England's body and tugging on the ribs as the life blood of a powerful nation stained the grass in shades of maroon and scarlet. As more grumbles escaped her trap, Belarus was on top of Germany. At once, he tensed up and yelled in surprise, unaware of her presence. Adrenaline surged like lightning through her veins and rage burst through her, making her quiver like a fiery leaf. Being the large man he was, Germany pushed upward, trying to throw Belarus off of him. The smaller nation slid back across the bloody grass, but quickly stood back up, her clothing donned with red smears.

"Well this shouldn't be too hard," Germany grunted, rushing at Belarus with a raised sword. With a mighty stroke, he slammed the weapon down, only for Belarus to quickly slide aside, dodging the blow. As Germany moved in again, she took out a long, thin throwing knife and launched it through the air with shaking hands. As it glided through the air, the Germany gave out a small yelp. The knife had stuck in his right shoulder, only enough to wound...but it had done its job. When Ludwig yanked the projectile out of his flesh, a fresh river of blood came cascading downward. So much blood had been shed in this arena that no nation would be phased in the slightest by its appearance now. Not even little Liechtenstein...if she was alive, that was. Which she wasn't.

"I do think," Belarus snarled, "that this will be harder than you think!" She lunged forth, letting her last throwing knife rip lose. Germany gave a slight smirk at her comment, his blue eyes twinkling in a sing song like way. This only made Belarus even more furious. Having been thrown from such a close range, the last throwing knife did its job with masterfully executed skill. The silver metal blade sank with ravishing thirst into Germany's stomach. For a moment, those piercing blue eyes were as wide as plates, almost bulging out of their own sockets. Another red stain quickly ran across the German man's belly, and his breath came out in short rasps. "Well, what did I tell you?"

"Teuvel!" He screamed, pulling the knife from his stomach as his eyes dilated beyond their limit in pain. "Teuvel!" The German word for "devil" rang out once more as Belarus slashed the man's wrists open, even more blood spraying as if blown by a fan in all directions.

"See how this feels," Belarus cooed dangerously, slipping a metal blade under each open wound, and slowly cutting up under the skin on Germany's arms, effectively skinning the larger nation alive. "Ha!" With a sickening split, Belarus cut all the way up to his soldiers, than yanked the skin off his arms, and flinging it aside. She raised her knives again.

...

Hungary wasn't letting another victim slip from her grasp. As Belarus charged with all her strength at Germany, Belgium slinked away into the bushes, looking quite relieved. She jumped on the chance. As the two combatants began to engage in a horrible bloodbath, Hungary sprinted toward Belgium, her ax and skillet outstretched. The evasive nation slipped into the shady green woods, and she continued in hot pursuit, leaves crunching noisily beneath her feet. Belgium began to slow down, weighted down by her bleeding wounds inflicted by Belarus's sharp knives.

"Yah!" Hungary rushed toward Belgium, who spontaneously collapsed to the ground, clutching at her wounds in pain. As the heavy iron skillet swung down in a heavy arc, Belgium deflected the hit with her blow gun, starting to scramble back up. Dodging a swing from Hungary's ax, the small nation raised her gun and fired. At once, a stabbing pain erupted through Hungary's right shoulder. "Ahhhh!" Gritting her teeth, she ripped out the annoying dart, feeling a warm stream trickling down her chest.

Not wasting a moment, Belgium fired again, but Hungary was quicker. The metal pan stopped the dart in its tracks as Hungary leaned forward and, before she knew it, launched her ax with all the strength her body possessed. Eyes filling with fear, Belgium turned, but the ax wasn't going down without a taste of a nation's blood. As the younger girl's screams ripped through the air, Hungary smashed her weak skull in with her ever handy skillet.

For a moment Belgium's body spasmed wildly, then her skull visibly dented inward, Hungary's pan finding a satisfying mark. Small bits of squishy pink brain filled her ears, then her body went limp and still as a rag doll. The very tribute who had been elusive for such a long time was finally gone with the wind. The canon boomed a reassuring victory signal.

...

It was quite a funny thing. Even through the plethora of horrible pain and misery in Germany, he could still focus clear as day on one subject: Italy. Germany saw his chestnut hair dance in the breezes, saw him on the floor and crying after a long, stressful day of training. Saw him shoveling down enormous plates of pasta of all varieties, and cuddling with fluffy kittens. Italy was simply everywhere.

"Germany!" He coddled in his high pitched voice. "Welcome home! Are you coming to me, Germany? Oh, Germany, please come!" A single curl quivered on his head. "Germany..." That very nation's roars of agony pulled him to a terrifying reality. Belarus leaned above him, her face twisted into one of pure diabolic evil and hate. Never had Germany felt somebody want him dead as much as this insane girl.

"For Big Brother!" She screeched, her sharp nails digging underneath the open wounds by his shoulders. His mouth opening into a horrified little O, Belarus reached underneath the skin on his upper back, and with a mighty yank, removed it from his body. Surely, Germany had no doubt he was being skinned alive. No words, not even the vividest of horrible letters, could describe the way Germany felt. There was simply nothing for it.

The delicious scent of mozzarella and garlic tickled Germany's nose. A pot of flowing yellow pasta sizzled and simmered on a messy stove...Italy's stove. Strange. There was no stove, or pasta or Italy anywhere in this damned arena. "Germany! Want some pasta Germany? Oh, please stay for pasta!" Italy's face looked young and healthy, his skin rich and full with rosy cheeks. His hair was neatly combed, except for the ever ecstatic curl lingering on the man's forehead. He wore a neat and clean yellow tunic. He didn't know where it came from, yet Germany had the overwhelming urge to snuggle underneath that warm tunic and never, ever emerge.

Only too bad it wasn't possible, for the next thing Ludwig could guess, the skin was ripped off his face.

...

"This just keeps on getting even better and better!" Belarus cackled manically, twisting and spinning the bloody facial skin in her hands. She could even feel the bits of rough stubble that had been on Germany's face. She looked at her sobbing victim below. He had no skin at all on his face, arms, or upper back. Blood as absoloutly everywhere, and the stench of it was so strong and present that she could actually taste its metallic saltiness on her tongue. Muscle and ripped tissue was omnipresent as well, throbbing in a desperate attempt to stay in the realm of the living. "And for the finale!" Belarus bent down over Germany's chest and curled her fingers inward, looking overwhelming like an evil old hag. In one swift, fluid motion, she reached under his chest, and squeezed her shaking hand with all her life force around the slippery organ of a heart...and stopped it from beating.

...

"Here it's safe and warm, Germany, here you're with me!" Germany snuggled closely into Italy's tunic, which also reaked of pasta and sauces. He embraced the scent, and wrapped his strong sturdy arms around Italy's torso, marveling at the renewed presence of plentiful soft skin on the appendages. Looking up, he lifted out Italy's right ring finger. The ring Ger,any had presented Italy on his deathbed was there, its golden body beaming like a beacon of hope in the bright white light.

For just a second, Germany smiled.