Thank you to all that reviewed last chapter, those reviews were so kind and thoughtful, and they really shaped my motivation for this chapter ! I'm really sorry I didn't have the time to respond to most of them, but I'll respond to all the ones for this chapter, I promise ! I love you all ! *glomp*

Belarus's shaking hand relaxed as it slowly compressed the now dormant heart of Germany. What had been through so much, war, love, death, and sorrow, was now still, never to move again. The warm, bloody organ lended itself to be quite pleasurable to the touch of one particular Soviet. Grinning, Belarus reached her other hand into Germany's opened chest, and kneaded the slippery heart with both appendages, feeling the warmth zap through her fingertips, and then up her arms, a contented sigh following the motion. She proceeded to push aside the cut up purple lungs, then, making sure both her hands had a firm grip on the vital organ of life, Belarus pulled back, and with a burst of strength, yanked Germany's heart from his chest.

"Mmmm," She mumbled, rubbing it against her cheeks and smearing more blood all over her. Still holding the heart, Belarus reached for her knife, then abruptly cut ice cold iron blade of death into the lifeless organ, a look of hatred and disgust washing over her face. "There, so how he likes a ripped heart after what he did to Brother Russia!" The nation cried, bits of heart littering the scarlet grass around her. In fact, Belarus stood in a literal pool of blood, the substance splashing around her ankles as she stood up, and sploshing noisily as the young women made her way across the plain to Russia's corpse, supplies strung over her back. Ironically, his was the cleanest and least disfigured of all, only a narrow red slash on his throat showing the sign of death.

"Oh, Brother!" Belarus sobbed. She buried her face into his broad yet silent chest, inhaling his fading body scent as if her life depended on it, which perhaps could have been somewhat true. As she proceeded to become intimate with her brother's dead body, Belarus heard another loud canon fire boom across the arena, making her hair stand on end.

Whipping her blond head up, the small nation clapped a hand over her gaping mouth. She'd just killed Germany, and relished that canon shot with vigor, so there was no way it could be him. England and poor Big Brother had been dead for far to long for it to be either of them. "Wait...that annoying little dart girl must've escaped me when I had to avenge Brother Russia, and then there was that feisty girl with the pan, so they went after each other! Which means...either Dart Girl or Pan Wacker is now dead."

For a fleeting moment, Belarus allowed her mind to wander to a death that was too good to ever be true: That those two stupid girls managed to finished each other off, and allow her to go home. Alone, but home at least, out of this heinous arena. Yet of course, this would never manifest itself into truth for Belarus.

...

Hungary angrily pushed Belgium's petite, lifeless corpse aside. Aside from a dart gun with only three more darts left to use, the dead nation had nothing of value to purge. If she hadn't killed her now, Belgium probably would've starved to death. Hungary stood up, her weapons in hand, and debated her next move. She could go back to the Cornucopia, what with there being only three more tributes left by now, or run away into the woods, out of direct confrontation. The two remaining tributes, Belarus and Germany, were most likely fighting with each other, and she did have the longest distance dart gun, so with good timing, perhaps Hungary could pick both hostile nations off. Then...and then...she could go home. Never to see any corner of this dreadful, bloody arena ever again. Back to Austria's peaceful piano serenades and loving arms...back home. Back to something worth fighting for.

Taking a deep breath, she loaded the last few darts into the long metal barrel, and hoisted her ax onto her back in order to carry the new weapon. If all miraculously went well, Hungary would catch Belarus and Germany in the middle of their vicious brawl, and claim the title of sixty sixth Hunger Games Victor for her very own.

...

A mixture of glee, sadness, and a dim relief washed over Belarus as the silent black hovercrafts hoisted up the corpses of Germany, Russia, and England, carrying the deceased nations out of the awful arena forever, then shipping the mangled bodies back in austere wooden crates back to the Hetalian village. "Goodbye, Brother," Belarus whispered, hanging her head down low. "I'll come back for you, I will."

Whoosh

With a gasp, the small nation barely jumped aside as a sharp metal projectile zoomed her way. She caught a glimpse of it as it flew by her face. One of Belgium's darts. That meant...the pathetic girl herself was now trying to kill Belarus, then take the title for herself. Belarus's eyes narrowed as she grabbed a knife from nearby, the one she'd used to end Germany. She sensed a second dart come near, and twisted her body around, yet not enough to fully avoid the iron weapon.

"Ugh!" Belarus screamed as the dart stuck into her left shoulder. At once a warm, steady flow of sticky scarlet blood flowed down her side. Ripping it out, Belarus drew back her right arm, then let the knife rip. Hopefully it was ready to end two lives in one day. A loud clanking rang out from about ten yards in front of her. Not wasting any time, she withdrew her close range dagger, and feverishly raced toward the spot, her feet slopping across the blood soaked ground. The defeated blades of grass had already drank up so much blood, it wouldn't make a difference now if Belarus just made one more gory kill by cutting her prey open and dissecting her bit by bit. As the thought crossed her mind, tingles shot through her spine, and her lips cracked into the small ghost of a smile. Who sad killing had to be such a heinous process?

...

"One more dart, make it count, you!" Hungary yelled under her breath as she loaded the last dart. Her second fire had hit Belarus in the neck, causing some heavy bleeding but not enough to be fatal. "Here goes..." Air that stang with the tangent scent of the blood of nations filled the girl's lungs as she inhaled, placed her quivering lips on the cool edge of the gun, then exhaled a fast and steady flow of air up the long tube to launch what could save her life. Sure enough, the iron dart zoomed out of the weapon, blending in with the clouding sky above. With bated breath, Hungary watched as the dart flew toward Belarus, then stuck right into her right forearm. Hungary cracked a grim smile. Belarus threw with her right arm, so her throwing would be shabby, at least. Above the two, thunder crackled and boomed, and a brilliant flash of lightening ignited the entire arena sky...then cascaded to the Earth...and to the arena.

Yelping, Hungary was literally hurled into the Cornucopia plain as the trees and bushes around her burst into red hot, dancing flames that purged the entire arena of its sins and horrors, leaving only the area where the Games began as a fighting ground.

"So you're the other finalist..." A malevolent voice growled above her. "I expected that pathetic dart girl, but oh well, you'll do."

Hungary narrowed her gaze. "Oh yeah? Well I killed Belgium, and I can certainly do the same to you!"

"Well, let's see it then!" Belarus lunged. Cold steel flashed above Hungary, and she only had a split second to react. Thinking fast, she whacked Belarus's knife aside with the blow gun, then sidestepped, bringing out her skillet. "Let's have some fun, shall we?" Like the lightning that flashed across the sky, Belarus turned, then plunged her knife blade into the loop at the bottom of the pan's handle, effectively locking the two weapons and both combatants into place.

"Hah! Got you!" Hungary whopped. But there was only a nasty smirk on Belarus's think face. The South European nation could only remember raising an eyebrow when the cold, painful bite of steel tore into her side. "AHHHHHHHH!" Spots danced like evasive fairies across Hungary's vision, as pain bit into her left side, and Belarus let out a gleeful guffaw.

"Going to kill me now, are you?" The former soviet sneered, preparing for another blow.

Hungary's hand reached steadily for her other faithful weapon. "Actually...you're not the only one who can play this game," she said slowly, speaking through a repulse sticky heat in her mouth. With a graceful spit, blood spattered all across Belarus's face, right from her opponent's mouth. Her arm drawing back, ignoring her screaming body, Hungary dove her ax sideways, down at Belarus. Eyes widening, the nation turned slightly in order to avoid a deathly blow to the side...but was met with a lovely chop to the thigh. Screams of agony ripped through the smokey air together, the prospective victor in each pushing over the other.

No longer able to support much of her weight, Belarus thumped to the ground. Her knife and Hungary's skillet, still locked together, pulled the second female nation down with her, and the two grappled on the ground, wrestling and rolling on each other to come out on top, echoing their earlier screams. Hungary was on top on top one moment, prepared to strike Belarus fast and hard with her skillet before the sadist tugged back her arms and pushed her over. Without being aware, the two nations were rolling closer and closer to the inferno that blazed on the edge of the plain.

Belarus slammed all her weight down onto Hungary's shoulders, pressing her free hand onto the girl's throat. Each nation only had one available hand, two being locked along with the pan and knife that neither was willing to let go of. The two locked weapons were the most valuable ones they had, the ones that could very well mean the difference between life and death. Hungary's other arm sprang up to wrest Belarus's away from her throat, but the nation was prepared. Growling, she slammed her foot down onto Hungary's free arm, pinning her down onto the ground. "No little loser music pansy to help you now, eh?" She purred, spitting in Hungary's face. "You're done!" Belarus stabbed her sharp knife into the girl's cheek, cutting deep into the tongue. Her eyes widened in pain and alarm, yet she remained silent.

Which was then the fire caught her.

First Hungary's light brown hair lit up, puffs of smoke rising up from the stinking blaze. Belarus grunted, then quickly jumped back, heaving heavily. Her vision spun, along with the smoke, heat, and screams. One last kill. That was all she needed. Taking a deep, semi calming breath, she sprinted forth, sprang up, and brought her knife down as hard as she could through Hungary's chest, i paling through her heart, and down to the soft earth below.

Hungary was dead. Belarus had won.

But...she hadn't enjoyed the final kill one bit. Maybe sometimes it was better to let other people live...if not in an arena and forced to fight to the death, of course. Peeking down, Belarus saw Hungary's face and body, disfigured and serene in death. Her green eyes gazed solemnly up at the dark, swirling sky, and her hand still clutched her beloved skillet. Which she'd be buried with. Belarus gingerly knelt down, and removed her knife from the pan's loophole, and left Hungary to be.

Finally, the moment every tribute had hoped to hear from the reaping, the booming voice of Claudius Templesmith boomed across the entire arena. "Congratulations to Belarus of Europe, grand Victor of the Sixty Sixth Hunger Games!"

Alrighty, all that's left now is the epilogue, which will hopefully be up before Thursday. Thank you for sticking with me all the way through, and sorry this update took so long !