*Togashi's characters belong to him, mine belong to me*

Warnings: Swearing/Gore

Feitan flicked his wrist to send a smattering of blood drops to the wooden floor before withdrawing his hand into the sleeve of his black trench coat. The small torturer had finally relieved himself of the inevitable boredom between Danchou's orders. He was a thief. He was a murderer. He held no morals, but valued the rule of the Spider.

Stepping with perfect silence away from the assorted collection of male and female corpses, Feitan never looked behind him. Their dead flesh would soon rot and the smell would attract scavengers who would eat them. It was the way of the world. You killed or you were killed. You ate whatever was available, even if that was the rotting flesh of someone whom you once knew. Feitan had grown up in a world of pure survival, as had his current comrades in the Genei Ryodan.

He stepped out of the ransacked home, an abandoned place now that all the residents were deceased, and under the torrent of rain. In the time he had entered to now a strong thunderstorm had rolled in, breaking the seemingly endless humidity of the tropical continent. Lightening flashed, breaking the dark clouds above Feitan's head for the tenth of second needed to discover a lone figure standing just feet in front of him. The tall figure was drenched, hands resting in the pockets of his track pants as though he wasn't affected by the buffeting winds and driving water. Feitan raised his hand. His blue-black hair was leaden with water, obscuring his vision, until he brushed it aside and raised the collar of his coat. His skull printed bandana was low around his neck to reveal the blood dribbling down his chin. Feitan felt no need to wipe it away as the rain did its job and seeped into every dry surface of his clothing and ran in small rivulets down his exposed skin.

"Phinks." Feitan greeted the other Ryodan member.

"Danchou's ordering us to York Shin City," Phinks replied without returning the greeting of his oldest comrade. The term friend had no meaning to those of the forgotten land, nor did family mean anything to them. They were just comrades. They were Spiders. They were the professional group of A-Rank thieves known as the Genei Ryodan whom no one had ever captured, dead or alive. To become one of its thirteen members you were either chosen by the head of the Spider or you killed a pre-existing member.

Feitan raised his head to the sky and basked in the feeling of the cool drops hitting his heated skin before nodding towards Phinks. The tall blonde disappeared without speaking another word, leaving Feitan to his thoughts once more.

Inside the decimated house were Feitan's victims. Men, women, and the children were all gathered in the living room – nine bodies in total… if you could piece them back together. It had started in Feitan's usual way, gathering his intended victims and starting from one end of the scale or other; today he had started with the strongest and ended with simply slicing the throat of the baby (a child of only a couple months, swaddled in a crisp white blanket asleep in its play pen).

His first victim had been in his late twenties to early thirties, most probably the head of the family, and Feitan had started with breaking the man's individual fingers. Meticulously moving up from the small bones in the hand, to every bone in his arms, his legs, his ribs, even snapping his lower vertebra before Feitan grew bored and progressed to the second strongest male.

None of the nine people had been tied up originally, simply knocked unconscious until Feitan was ready for them or breaking an ankle or leg to keep them from moving far. The most fun the torturer had had in a while had come not from any of the males, much to his shock (and maybe a little to his dismay), but from one of the two teenage females. She was the only one he had been forced to physically restrain, and had continued to struggle until Feitan barked at her,

"You move any more, I cut your tendons so you no walk." Her blue eyes darkened with undisguised loathing until Feitan turned away from her to pierce one male's chest. He walked towards her, curious as she did not shrink away from him. The second teen, an identical copy of the first, cringed with tears running down her cheeks and attempted to hide behind the other as they sat on the cold floor. One was paralyzed, the other brazen. Feitan found the comparison interesting to witness. "Your turn."

The one who was bound lunged forward, her mouth opened to latch onto him in any possible way. Feitan sidestepped, continuing to advance on the petrified teen.

"Get away from her you fucking sadistic bastard!" The first teen snarled, thrashing her body around to try a second lunge toward Feitan. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and caught the light blonde color of her frazzled hair. His attention returned to the girl in front of him and he noticed this one's hair was darker, more golden. Not identical after all, Feitan thought without affliction. Either way they were going to die; there was no reason to note their differences now. All he was interested in was killing his time and seeing what reactions would come from the lighter blonde…

Halting before the darker blonde he crouched, staring dispassionately into the blue tinted eyes. In the second it took her to blink Feitan had reached out to snap her left arm in two places and regained his full height by the time she screamed.

"Kantra!" The one behind him roared, pushing her body up and aimed to tackle Feitan in his spine. A second sidestep and he once more evaded her rush, glancing emotionlessly after her. Waiting until the lighter blonde locked her eyes with his, Feitan kicked the girl at his feet over, never looking away from the other, and grinded his foot into her body. "You bastard!"

Feeling… something, Feitan increased the pressure until Kantra shrieked. He stared down the lighter haired girl until she growled, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes that she refused to shed in his presence. Feitan felt his lips curl upwards. Something about this one girl… he was enjoying his time. Boredom had been replaced with worthy entertainment. If only all of his victims could be like her… he would never again feel bored. Baring down with his foot until he felt whatever bone beneath it snap, another high pitched pain-laced scream following, only then did Feitan look down. The darker blonde was shaking, her face pale, and blood was evident around the wounds. She was boring, unlike the other.

He was done playing. Feitan used a large portion of his strength to kick her head, snapping her neck so fast there would be no pain felt by her (something Feitan would normally assure didn't happen) and stalked towards the kneeling figure across the room. Her head was bowed, hair obscuring the features, as her shoulders shook. Assuming she was silently crying, she was pitiably weak compared to Feitan so he didn't think about it much, he grasped her hair and yanked her head up. To his surprise, the girl's face was dry. She had not shed a tear despite the pain she felt in her heart.

"Die you fucker!" She yelled, arms snapping outwards to once again surprise Feitan. He was slow to react, she having picked up a broken chair leg he had previously used to stab one of the older women in the abdomen and using it as a sabre with a thrust towards his chest. The splintered wood caught the edge of his sleeve, ripping into his skin. Feitan's instincts brought his uninjured arm up to punch the girl in her upper spine. She plummeted to the floor, chair leg bouncing out of reach, and coughed. Feitan placed his foot against the small of her back, adding no pressure, and swiftly gained control of her wrists. If he yanked, both her shoulders would be dislocated in a heartbeat.

She turned her head to glare from one eye up at him. He tightened his grip.

"Monster," she spat. Feitan set his foot dominantly against the floor and pulled up. She would not notice the difference at first, but as he continued the strain in her shoulders caused pain. White teeth dug into soft pink lips as she refused to utter a sound. Undeterred, Feitan continued until he felt the sockets about to pop. In one quick jerk he completely dislocated both at once, feeling something akin to glee as he heard the pain torn from her throat. But he didn't stop there… No Feitan was enjoying this. He wanted to know what would happen to her if he completely tore her arms off. It would be simple to just keep pulling as he was…

Hehe, Feitan's a cool guy. I'm glad I could write something up his alley.