I thought of the beginnings of a plot for "The Right Rewrite of Right" ever since I saw a certain page of the KHR! manga. But I only started writing down the beginning on April 19, 2008… So this story has already been planned out with room for adjustment for in case crazy things start happening in the canon. 8P (UPDATE 09/27/2009: asdajsfjlk… So many elements in canon so similar to the draft chapters of this fic that have yet to be published online…)

I blame my being overly- curious about one seemingly unimportant manga panel (over just two particular objects shown in it) for snow- balling a series of ideas and brought to life this really scatter- brained creation I dare call a story. At the time I began writing, I wasn't quite happy with the kinds of KHR fan- stories (one- shots; most of which I found were geared toward the yaoi genre... -disappointed&sickofyaoi-) I found regarding this certain story angle. (As of writing) no one else seems to be making a multi- chaptered story on this so I went ahead and made my own. I don't hope to impress anyone or inspire or meet anyone's expectations; I just want to practice writing fictional stuff (I'm not very used to writing fiction)... I just write what I want to read and what I don't often see.

It's the first time I've actually thought of a story where I have some idea how to end it... and this is also the first story I've ever posted on-line (Wow, what an achievement... I could be doing something else with my spare time…). In line with that, I also had trouble deciding on the title because I usually don't title my own work: "The Right Rewrite of Right" sounds like a tongue twister... But I think it's better than the original title I used when I was writing down the drafts (I'm still writing down drafts actually; I make this story up as I go along XP): "To Dream of Dead Hawks". I didn't feel that the original title completely covered the entire point of the story; only some parts of it... But according to Native American mythology, dreaming of a dead hawk means that your enemies will be vanquished. Oooh...

BTW, this is meant to be a multi- chapter story in the first- person perspective… Unless I find it necessary to switch perspectives to make things more interesting


Disclaimer: I don't own KHR! If I did I would certainly know what exactly those two particular items I've been wondering about are. Besides, I wouldn't be writing and posting this here if I owned KHR!
Warning: Swearing... implied nudity... Mature/ adult themes... I put this under 'M' for obvious reasons.


"The Right Rewrite of Right"

By: Satirical Juxtapose

Rewrite 001: Operation Stop Clam Hunting

Pilot Post Written: Saturday, April 19, 2008, 09:38:10 AM

Edited: Sunday, April 27, 2008, 03:50: 53 PM

Updated: Wednesday, September 10, 2008, 09:29:02 PM

Re- Updated: Monday, December 29, 2008, 09:15:20 PM


This is so much fun.
No, I lied. I'm being sarcastic here.
I'm starving and fucking broke...
I'm literally lost too (even though this place should be more than familiar to me).
I'm pissed off and in danger of losing my mind.
Shit, maybe I HAVE already lost my mind.
I feel like crying right now.
Fuck that. I should be crying.
I should be classified shit- fucking insane right about now.
This certainly wasn't in the job description.
It's... fucking overrated.
It's full of lies. Fuck, I hate lies.
But even I'm a lie.
Then again... It never really was in the job descriptions.
Hell, yeah...
We're fucking redefining 'working overtime'.


STARTING UP VONGOLA FAMIGLIA ARCHIVE FILE TRANSMISSION SYSTEM

LOADING…

20.82748927 PERCENT COMPLETE...

SCANNING ARCHIVE FILES FOR VIRUSES...

LOADING PERSONAL SETTINGS... ACCESSING VONGOLA DATABASE

LOADING...

68.62473942 PERCENT COMPLETE...

LOADING...

98.60024242 PERCENT COMPLETE...

VONGOLA FAMIGLIA ARCHIVE FILE TRANSMISSION SYSTEM MAY NOW BE USED


STANDBY FOR TRANSMISSION OF ARCHIVE FILE 001

Time: 02:00:45 AM

Location: Three- star Hotel. Name of location and exact coordinates blocked.

Note: CCC user name to be deleted after disposal of communications device.

Archive Summary: Rendezvous and weapons acquisition.

Archive File Status: Downloading 67.89247823 percent complete...

BEGIN TRANSMISSION OF ARCHIVE FILE 001

"Good morning, Sir! Are you checking out right now?" The trying-to-be-bubbly hotel clerk from last night greeted me as I walked near the front desk. (The little bits of chewing gum stuck in her retainer are a Hell of a turn off... Not that she was that pretty to begin with.) I glanced out of the corner of my eye to check if she was alone.

'Yeah, she's definitely alone.'

"I will later." I replied. I'm not in the mood for any of her attempts at flirting; as a matter of fact, I haven't been in the mood for anything at all in the last few days. (Being a wanted man is definitely one of many reasons to blame for this.)

Then I walked away, knowing very well that I've left her looking at my back with a baffled expression. I'm too painfully aware how much attention I get from people. Ten years of pain from certain parties who must not be named out of self- preservation can do that.

I went to the mini café beside the hotel restaurant. It was still open but some of the personnel manning the night shift weren't looking a little too peaky. 'Must be the time…'

I went up to the counter and ordered a tuna sandwich and a cup of black coffee to go. "Would you like anything else, Sir?" The cashier asked me. I tried to place where I've heard a voice like hers… I shook my head and took a couple of paper napkins from beside the cash register.

"No, that's everything." I told her. She nodded once to let me know she understood and rang up my order. Afterwards, I went outside the café to sit at one of the little tables set up near the door.

After taking it from my pocket, I flipped open the disposable cell phone I had with me to take advantage of the hotel's wireless Internet connection. Then I accessed the special chat program designed only for selected members of the Family and certain outside contacts' use.

I signed in using a temporary user name: it's a dummy one I've made especially for this type of mission. It would be deleted from the Family network the moment I disposed of the device. It's a precaution to prevent from anyone from outside of the Family from hacking into the system using my previous communications as a digital trail… Leaving anything linking to the communication networks of the Family intact is very risky… not to mention stupid.

I looked up the list of Family members currently on-line: a little less than half… In some strange way, I felt slightly assured that the fact that even though that number of people were on- line; at least it meant that they had not fallen into enemy hands and were still alive. I scanned the list and buzzed one particular user name. 'Pick up, Fats.' I thought impatiently. I needed to talk to him about one of the crucial parts of my mission. Still buzzing the user name, I reached over to the next table to pick up the newspaper the customer beside me had left behind.

Once I got it, I opened it to a random section... 'Oh… how vindictive...' I've opened it to the sports section: the headline on it was about a batter of some baseball team hitting the winning homeru...

I quickly turn it to the business section. "Bring a glass of water and my bill with my order." I told a passing waiter absently while pretending to peruse the reports on Japan's currency exchange rates. To pass the time, I scrolled through the options menu of the disposable cell phone while waiting for the food. It's almost a pity that I would have to discard the gadget soon. If my safety and the Family's security weren't at risk or being compromised, I'd say that this is a very nifty piece of technology. Trust the big mecha- geek to come up with something like this on short notice...

"Yes, of course, Sir." Nameless-night-shift-waiter-number-three bowed and went off toward the kitchens or wherever he goes to pick up food orders.

Still on a pretense of reading the newspaper, I leaned my elbow on the table and propped my head on my left hand… folding the newspaper in such a way so that my cell phone would be covered from view without being too obvious but just enough for me to be able to read what was onscreen. I made sure that my eyes were moving to make it look like I was reading, to the unsuspecting observer.

I checked the cell phone's screen every now and then, buzzing the user name I wanted to talk to using my right little finger.

Then: 'Finally…'


-Clam Clan Chat-

-CCC Private Message Enabled-


GiantClam02: ¥0µ'®3 571££ 5\/\/1\/\/1\9? -®3£13ƒ-

Clam010Pearl: 7-3¥ \/\/3®3 Ð3ƒ1\173£¥ 54® 70 ߣ00Ð.

Clam010Pearl: 1 \/\/0\'7 74¥ £0\9; £0\/\/ 71Ð3 47 0300. 3)(p3(7 7-3 71Ð3 70 (0\/3 1\ 47 4ß0µ7 0400.

GiantClam02: ¥0µ \/\/4\73Ð 70 4 \/3 4ß0µ7 0\/37-1\9? 1 17 4ß0µ7 ¥0µ® -1p\/\/®3(1\9?

Clam010Pearl: 1 907 ¥0µ® Ð34Ð \/4\' (-37 4\Ð ¥0µ® p1®473 \/4p. 1 Ð0\'7 \33Ð -3£p \/\/17- 7-3 \4\/194710\ 4\Ð 7-3 ®0p3, 1 \3\/3® £13Ð (®4\/\/1\9. 1 Ð1Ð\'7 90 4-0®3 70 ®34Ð 4ß0µ7 ¥0µ® \3\/\/ Ð1(0\/3®13 4ß0µ7 7-31® 'ß®1££14\(3' 4\Ð '93\1µ'.

Clam010Pearl: ¥0µ Ð1Ð\'7 91\/3 \/3 7-3 \4\/3 0ƒ 7-3 -1p 1 -0µ£Ð ß3 741\9 \/\/-3\ 1 937 70 p0®7.

GiantClam02: £0£ Ð1Ð\'7 7-1\ 7-47 ¥0µ 7-0µ9-7 0ƒ 17 7-47 \/\/4¥.

GiantClam02: ®19-7. 1'££ 3\Ð 17 70 ¥0µ \/\/-3\ ¥0µ Ð0(.

GiantClam02: ®3\/3\/ß3® 70 Ð1p03 0ƒ 7-1. 17' £473Ð 70 90 0ƒƒ 47 0145.

Clam010Pearl: 1 \0\/\/. \/¥ 9®µß' µ7 4®®1\/3Ð. 1'££ 937 \/¥ 7µƒƒ ƒ1®7 7-3\.

GiantClam02: \/43 µ ®3 7-3¥ 33p ¥0µ 1\ 19-7 µ\t1£ ¥0µ £34\/3.


-Clam010Pearl has signed out-


I've already been typing in code in the first place. The text converted immediately into gibberish as I typed it out. It stayed in normal text for one second before it was converted, some of the letters omitted. However, that was enough time for me to read everything. It's one of the features of the new version of the software... I couldn't help but think that he's certainly outdone himself this time... But it was a pity and a waste that he couldn't do anymore, for a lack of time...

I paid for my sandwich and coffee and tipped the waiter who served them. ("Thank you, Sir; have a good morning.")

I normally would have ordered a large breakfast but... Lately, I've not had much of an appetite for anything... I bit a large chunk of my sandwich, ignoring the scandalized look the skinny French woman from the table across mine gave me. ('What the Hell do I care if my looks are wasted in your opinion, lady?') I gulped my glass of water (again she gave me a 'look'; I will not waste my time describing what it looked like in detail.)

I picked up my coffee, still munching on the sandwich and went back out to the lobby. I felt wary about using the elevator and instead took the stairs to my hotel room. I've got a lot of stuff to get rid off and to lay out for the 'sharks'. If all goes well, I should be able to get them off my back for a while. Then I'll be able to work and move a little freely… but at the cost of the Vongola Family's morale and safety.

I didn't like the idea, but given the limited choices, there's not much I can do about it.

When I reached my room, I decided to take a cold shower before preparing to leave the hotel.

I didn't bother turning on the hot water. I needed to be awake and alert. Hot water would lull me into a false sense of security. That was something that I didn't need right now.

My insides already felt colder than the water pelting down on my head, dripping from my hair.

I couldn't tell anymore if I was still crying... or if I was crying at all... as the water sprayed into my face, ran down my back and over the marks He left behind as solid evidence of that terrible day.

Five minutes later, my cell phone went off.

It's the alarm I've set the previous day to alert me of the time to check out of the hotel. I turned the water off after rinsing myself. Then I grabbed a towel to dry myself and the toothbrush I had put toothpaste on earlier before getting in the shower.

I quickly wrapped a spare towel around my waist and went out of the bathroom with my toothbrush still hanging from my mouth to stop the alarm. In my hurry, I accidentally stubbed my toe on the backpack I'd left lying on the floor outside the bathroom and nearly stumbled.

I swore silently and gave the still ringing cell phone an annoyed look. Then I blinked and gave it a blank stare when I actually listened to the pre- set alarm tone:

"Midori tanabiku, Namimori no

Dai naku, shou naku

Nami ga ii"

...They made the Namimori Middle's Alma Mater a default tone...

...On second thought, I'll be glad to be rid of this phone. It's too attention- grabbing. I went over to the bedside table and hit the 'Stop' option while toweling my hair dry.

After I finished brushing my teeth, got dressed and prepared my disguise, I gathered all my stuff together (not that they had been that badly scattered in the first place). I then separated my personal belongings (which would be transported to the hideout separately) from the other things that I would be bringing with me.

When I had made sure that I had everything, I locked the door and turned over the plastic 'Do not disturb' sign on the doorknob to make it read 'Please make up Room'. Then I went downstairs again, carrying my backpack, a messenger bag and my untouched coffee.

"I'm checking out now." I told the clerk at the hotel desk. This time it's a man in his mid- thirties at the desk.

"Will you be paying with cash or card, Sir?" I didn't answer his question and instead slap a wad of cash on the counter. It's a little more than enough to cover my hotel bill. His squinting eyes widened and he immediately got to work.

'Well, he's certainly got ...better dental hygiene...' I thought as he smiled at me with his bulky looking dentures; he delivered the hotel's scripted greetings ("Thank you for staying with us, Sir. Please do stay with us again,") and bade me to "Have a nice day".

For a guy with such a shitty shift, he sure looks happy... 'Ugh... the power of money.'

"Would you like some help with your luggage, Sir?" This time it's a bellhop with a half- loaded wheeled luggage rack. I don't think I saw him last night when I checked in... Probably one of the morning- shifts... 'What's up with these people being so chipper at three in the morning? That kind of cheerfulness should be only applicable after normal waking hours- like say, nine or twelve in the morning...?'

"I don't have any other luggage, but thank you." I replied. 'Is he blind or something? I've only got two bags on me. What makes him think I need help?'

Then I gave the bellhop a closer look: he smiled cheerfully and gave me a slight tip of the hat. I immediately caught sight of the small gold clam on the front of his cap.

'Wait... the hotel's logo is a pearl', I remembered. 'Ah... you guys...' I thought, mentally shaking my head. I couldn't help but be relieved that they had the sense to set up precautions on their own… Although I wondered who had managed to decode the order, seeing as the one of the few who had actually mastered all of the codes had been taken out only just recently…

Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed one of the spies who had been tailing me around the previous day: the busty redhead in bohemian dress... Then I saw her partner, a frizzy haired brunette with a bad posture. 'Shit, they're back.'

One of them had taken out a cell phone. No doubt to inform their superiors that 'I' was leaving the building. I quickly handed the bellhop my backpack (containing my personal things, most of my better box weapons). He put it on the luggage rack on top of some similar looking backpacks and duffel bags and then followed me to the hotel entrance.

I hailed the first taxi that showed up and knocked on the trunk to signal the driver to open it. The bellhop opened the backseat door and stowed one of the backpacks in the trunk. I noticed that he had loaded the one sitting under the bag containing my things. It was exactly identical to the one I used, down to the frayed straps and scratched fabric. But I didn't say anything about it; I knew for a fact that it contained other weapons, other supplies and some back-up ring box weapons.

My original backpack contained most of my stronger and more regularly used box weapons. I had decided to send them back to the hideout before me since it could be cumbersome for me to travel with too many box weapons than I would need.

I then tipped the bellhop, slipping a folded piece of paper in with the money. The note contained orders I had written the previous night to 'take care' of the spies that were following me.

"Thank you, Sir. Have a good day." He smiled and went off to 'accommodate' the spies that had been tailing me. I espied the small box of hotel chocolate tucked in his back pocket. 'Poison Cooking: "Compliments from the Dead".' I thought as I got inside the back of the taxi, tossing my messenger bag to the end of the seat behind the driver.

When I looked up at him, I immediately recognized him and wondered briefly if this arrangement was alright like this. I had to resist from giving him a short nod of acknowledgment. (Acknowledging an acquaintance in plain view of the Millefiore spies will give them a clear idea of who to go after once they finished 'taking care' of you.)

Instead I showed him the map Giannini had sent me: "This is the location."

Romario nodded to show he understood and stepped on the accelerator. "Alright." He replied while I put my untouched coffee on the floor between my feet.

We drove for almost an hour and a half. We didn't speak to each other. I busied myself once again by further sorting what I really needed and sending coded instructions to the owners of CCC usernames who were still online. The inside of my messenger bag had another container inside and some random clothes stuffed inside to make it look like it was actually full.

I put the things I needed into the container and got the stolen explosives from this one. The unnecessary stuff, I swapped with the things in my messenger bag. I then flipped open my cell phone again and accessed a soft copy of the instructions for wiring the explosives. I silently read and memorized them as we moved towards the designated location.

Once we reached the outside of the car rental garage, I received the plate number and model of the car I would be taking. I left my messenger bag in Romario's taxi and he handed me two storage boxes in exchange: "There should be another change of clothes in the car." He told me grimly. "There's a set of clothing that Giannini had sent. Along with some of your box weapons in the backpack you were given. He warns that you must not leave large traces of yourself for the Millefiore to pick up on. Your other weapons should also be hidden inside the car. Also…

"Please be careful."

I've heard that warning from Giannini before. Countless times by now, actually… Ever since I've conceived this plan to try and get around Millefiore's spies. He's been very worried over everyone since he heard the news. I don't blame him... and I would have to admit that I'm even a little afraid for him... He's all alone in that base right now... The others wouldn't be back until the end of the week; assuming they would still be able to get back… alive.

"Thank you. Take care yourself." I nodded to him and got out.

"Wait- Take these too. It's chilly this time of year." Romario handed me a pair of black synthetic leather gloves. But I already knew that they were not really meant for protection against the cold.

I took them anyway and slipped them on.

'They're a snug fit.' I thought. "Thank you. And good- bye."

I turned around and walked toward the car rental garage's office. It's pointless to say 'See you later'… 'Especially when we don't know when that 'later' would be.'

The morning air was indeed chilly but I didn't care. It still felt much colder and heavier inside my chest again.

TRANSMISSION OF ARCHIVE FILE 001 DISCONNECTED

CHECKING CONNECTION SETTINGS


STARTING UP VONGOLA FAMIGLIA MISSION FILE TRANSMISSION SYSTEM LOG

LOADING...

45.37198234 PERCENT COMPLETE...

SCANNING MISSION LOGS FOR VIRUSES...

LOADING PERSONAL SETTINGS... ACCESSING VONGOLA DATABASE

LOADING...

78.87283423 PERCENT COMPLETE...

LOADING...

99.00009123 PERCENT COMPLETE...

VONGOLA FAMIGLIA MISSION FILE TRANSMISSION SYSTEM LOG MAY NOW BE USED


BEGIN TRANSMISSION OF MISSION FILE 001

Time: 09:06:04 AM

Location: Empty road a short distance from Namimori City. Exact coordinates deleted.

Note: Mission file to be deleted after completion of mission.

Mission Objective: Tactical retreat

Downloading mission objectives

Mission File Status: Beginning mission file transmission...

Mission Status:

COMMENCE MISSION

Deserted public road? Check.

Key out of the ignition? Check.

No trace of fingerprints on any surface? Steering wheel, dashboard, etc? Check. Check. Check. Check.

Car parked in a very sharp curve with an especially dangerous blind spot. Definitely check.

This was where I've ended up after almost three hours of driving around Namimori City from the car rental garage. While it's incredibly roundabout, the whole point of this "sweeping"… is to throw enemies off for the time being. The entire town is practically swarming with them. I'd almost gotten caught a few times even. I hated to think of what could happen if I do get caught; I've heard reports of torturebeing carried out on members and allies of the Family who refused to talk if they weren't killed immediately… Even talked to one sggarista over the phone… seconds before he destroyed his cell phone to protect the communication networks… I got a surveillance report a few hours later telling me that he and the some of the other Japanese Mafiosi in several separate locations had all, in a sense, committed seppuku [1] to keep the whereabouts of the base secret… '…The damn idiots…' I found myself wondering over the next few weeks whether what they had done was stupid… or brave…

… Whether dying for me, of all people, was even worth it at all.

Pushing the memory of a smile in a doomed sggarista's voice, his warnings for me to stay away, to stay safe, gunshots, explosions, the taste of vomit on my tongue and the horrible ringing in my ears… I forced myself to focus once more on my own task: I had to make sure I do everything right.

One wrong move could trigger the enemies to come after me… and another death in the Family is not something that we need.

It's a bad time to become claustrophobic… or scared of anything for that matter.

But I suppose I have my current attire to blame for it. It's suffocating to breathe through this mask… but I can't risk leaving any too many traces of DNA for them to pick up. The full zip- up black body suit I've been given was designed for keeping all my perspiration from getting on the upholstery of the driver's seat. I would have to burn it later, along with the mask, shades, hat and gloves all at once after I'm in a good distance away.

There's no time for me to find an incinerator. 'Heh... Like I'd find one in this place...' That's what those two storage ring boxes I have with me are for.

I stepped out of the rental car while unzipping the top part of the body suit. Then I took off my shades and the mask, grunting a bit as I pulled it over downwards to loosen it and over my head. Then I pushed the driver's side door close but not enough to fully shut it.

After that, I popped open the hood and messed with certain parts of the engine, just as Giannini had instructed. Also, just as planned, I damaged the engine just enough to mislead anyone who investigates into thinking that the engine was faulty to begin with.

Once I finished, I shut the hood and opened the driver's side door again. I left my gloves on to avoid making any prints while I cleared out the car. Reaching under the driver's seat, I pulled up the lever to open the car trunk.

I crawled inside the car from the driver' side and gathered up my things from the passenger seat. After I backed out of the car, the trunk was cleared out next. Once I finished, there was a small pile of ring box weapons on the ground and some junk.

I haven't put anything in the back seat but I checked it anyway just to be sure.

I wrinkled my nose at what I came up with from there... and dumped them unceremoniously next to the stuff I had gotten from the passenger seat and the trunk. There were food wrappings and some cans of drinks. 'Really... Just what the heck was this car used for? A trash can?'

I checked everything I had on the concrete and deliberated on what to discard.

There's a change of clothes consisting of a black Armani suit, a long- sleeved business shirt, black tie, black socks... and a pair of black leather shoes...

I frowned at the set of clothes I'd been given. 'Really now...'

I'm not complaining about the obvious care to match my current taste in clothing but... Do they really expect me to hike from here in this? I put the clothes away to change into later and returned my attention to the other things...

Then there's the full cup of coffee.

I still hadn't drunk a drop of it since I left the hotel or the car rental garage. It's long gone cold and I'm guessing that whatever particles in it have settled at the bottom of the cup by now. I decided to leave it for later when I've finished clearing the car.

I find some remnants of the rings I'd used on the floor under the driver's seat. They were of a lower grade than the ones I regularly use. Those tended to shattered after a couple of uses... I don't know why I've kept them. They must have fallen out of my wallet while I was driving.

Old empty magazines. 'Obviously don't need those.' I don't use a gun. Nasty things are always in constant need of reloading. Those must have been left by the last hit man who used the car. I sure hope as Hell they weren't under me or else I would have come after them and given them a beating for that kind of carelessness. 'Or a warning at least.'

Seriously, even a little thing like that is going get civilians and the police sniffing around. I decided to get rid of those along with the ring remnants, and my old clothes. I wished that I hadn't left the backpack behind at the car rental garage after taking the ring box weapons and the explosives from it. At least then I would have had a container to keep the stuff I collected from the car. I pulled my hat off and gathered the magazines into it, bunching up the knitted material into a makeshift bag. I also placed the pieces of the broken rings in it as well, mentally marking them to be incinerated. Then I moved on to check the floor under the front passenger's seat.

'What the Hell is that?' I fumbled in the glove compartment for a mini- flashlight. I switched it on and inspected the floor underneath the seat. 'Is that what I think it is?'

There's a porn magazine underneath. I'm pretty sure that girl on the front cover's has had plastic surgery. Either that or it's shopped but still...

'Who the Hell owns this?' I frowned and picked it up; it's from last month but it's so worn out. I rolled it up and used it to poke at something which I think is alive.

After I've made sure that it is in fact not a living thing, I used the magazine to swat out from underneath the seat whatever junk is littering the floor of the car.

There are candy wrappers... the cheap kinds. 'I know I'm not the litterbug who left these.'

Some pins that definitely had belonged to some hand grenades. 'What the Hell? Do they not clean out their cars in that garage?'

I came up with a few dust bunnies and-

'Oh, eww... I spy a used condom.

'No wonder the back of this car smells a little funky...' I decided that when I get back to the hideout, I am definitely looking up the records for the last guy who used this car so I can give him a hands- on lesson on how exactly Vongola hit men should do their jobs...

I unrolled the magazine used it to scoop up the junk from the floor... quite glad to know that I'm burning my gloves later. I've had to pick up some of the stuff (ahem, condom) the magazine hadn't been able to pick up.

Once I'm satisfied that I had not left any other potential evidence in the car, I placed together the things I have decided to keep in one pile and the things to be discarded in a separate pile a few feet away from the car.

I picked up the cup of coffee and went back to the car. I poked my head inside from the driver's side to make one last visual check. 'All in order.'

I leaned further in and opened the glove compartment. After fumbling for a bit, I got a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. I poured some on the fingers of my left glove and put it back in the glove compartment. I also returned the mini- flashlight; it's property of the car rental garage. (While it's a small thing it might look suspicious if it's missing.) I backed out of the car and popped the lid off the cup of coffee. Then I spilt the coffee all over the floor and the driver's seat, taking care to sprinkle some in the passenger seat. I drank what was left over and wiped the cup with my left glove to remove whatever mark I may have left and tossed the cup inside the car, not caring where it landed.

'It's an accident anyway. I was drinking while driving.'

I went back to the pile and knelt down to pick up what I needed. Brushing my hair away from my eyes, I picked out from the small pile the set of explosives and a timer. I recalled Giannini's instructions on how to wire it to go off a couple of hours from now. 'They were stolen from one of the enemy's warehouses,' he told me. 'They're extremely powerful... Powerful enough to burn up bones.' I didn't bother asking him how they were stolen. Instead, I had him send me instructions on how to wire them by myself so I could put the plan in action.

I carefully made sure that the time and date on the timer was correct.

Once satisfied with my handiwork, I fixed it underneath the driver's seat and activated the timer. I slipped the key back into the ignition and started the car.

I loosened the handbrake and shut the door, after leaving the window on the driver's side open. Then I carefully guided the car from the outside, toward the edge of the curve. I jumped out of the way as a final steer and a great push sent it tumbling down off the road and into the trees. In about two hours the car will blow up, care of Millefiore explosives.

I am tempted to smile at the irony of my 'death'.

Well, it should buy me enough time to make it rendezvous point undetected. Meanwhile, our enemies will think that they have finally killed me.

But the thought still does not give me assurance in any way.

I returned to the small pile I had left on the side of the road. I pulled the zipper all the way down as I walked. Once I reached the pile, I stepped out of the body suit. I then used it as a makeshift bag to carry the small pile into the trees, a short walk away from where I'd had the car crash.

After checking if the trees provided sufficient cover, I decided to change out of my sweaty clothes. I had to get rid of them as soon as possible. Preparations had been made to ensure that I was seen and even photographed in these clothes by the Millefiore spies. I needed them to appear incinerated in my 'accident' once they catch up and come investigating my 'death'.

I slipped off my old clothes, taking care not to jostle out of place the concealed weapons from my body. Some of them had to be reattached so I took them off. Those were mostly ring boxes I had taken along for precaution. I separated the storage ring box which I planned to use to contain the things I needed to get rid off and another box which I would use to destroy the former.

After wiping the sweat off, I picked up the black slacks. My eyes fell on the long- sleeved shirt that had been prepared with the rest of the suit. 'There has to be some sort of conspiracy going on with the clothing department. Is there a memo that required us to wear shirts in the color of our respective flames that I was not aware of? They're going to turn us into fucking walking targets!' Shaking the ridiculous idea out of my head, I proceeded to put on the black slacks. The socks came next, followed by the shoes. I picked up the long- sleeved shirt and unbuttoned it, slipping in my weapons and boxes in the hems as I did so. I retained the belt from my original attire since I noticed that I had not been provided one.

I paused and listened for any suspicious noises. I can't breathe a sigh of relief yet. 'I never can in these times now.'

I returned my attention to fixing my gear again. However I still kept an ear out for any possible attacks. Next I slipped my other weapons into my usual hiding places, mentally ticking them off as I strapped on and secured them.

Once I was sure that all my gear was in place, I buttoned up and carefully tucked the shirt in before looping the belt into the belt loops of the slacks. I slipped the tie around my neck, under the shirt collar and knotted it with practiced ease.

Then I gathered up what I needed into the body suit.

I also took the disposable cell phone, turned it off and stuffed it in with my old clothes and the junk from the car.

I had time before the car blew up but I needed to be far away by the time it did. I tried to keep my breaths even and slow. 'This is not the time to be a coward', I scolded myself.

I took one of the storage ring boxes and flipped open one of the special covers Giannini had designed on one of the rings on my right hand. He had developed these ring covers (calling them "Auto Mammon Chain Ring Covers") just recently. It was only a prototype but it was meant to conceal powerful rings and their users a little before the Vongola Hunt started.

After charging the box with my flames, I gathered the make- shift bags (body suit and hat) and sealed them inside. Then I charged the other box and stowed the first one inside. I activated this ones' ability and set it to blow up at the same time as the car.

Then I walked back to where I'd left the car and hurl the box in the driver's seat hard enough to force a batter to bunt.

'Major leaguers should be proud', I thought sarcastically. I picked up my jacket and put it on, making sure the weapons I had concealed in my clothes didn't bulge. I don't want to give away the fact that I'm armed in case I run into some trouble later. Then I picked up my other things and secured them.

Without sparing my 'scene of death' a second glance, I set off toward the rendezvous point.

Time is something I cannot afford to waste... Time is something I believe I have truly taken for granted. 'How long has it been since that terrible day? It seems like ages but it's only been a few days.

'Why couldn't I have done anything?

'Could I ever forgive myself for letting it happen?

'What I would have given to turn back time and prevent it? All of it?' I couldn't stop thinking of those questions as I trudged my way into the forest.

On hindsight, this is a very bad idea: hiking in the woods in obviously inappropriate attire, I mean. I must really stick out right now to anyone or anything watching this place.

I absently wondered for a moment if someone in the clothing department purposely gave me these clothes in order for me to be easily spotted. It's too easy to be marked as a Mafioso and subsequently have open fire on my front or back once I've reached the rendezvous point.

'OK, you're thinking crazy again. Keep walking, you.' I could feel the sweat beginning to stick my shirt to my back while the afternoon sun beats down on me. 'Shut up,' I told myself. 'Don't you dare complain; you do not have the time to waste for thinking something as trivial as that.'

'Besides, you're way past that stage; suck it up, idiot, you've got work to do,' I thought to myself, frowning even more as I continued to walk...I forced to keep myself thinking of making it there, to where HE is, hidden until the Family can acquire fitting place for Him.

Far away from the fighting. Away from the killing. Hidden safe from our enemies.

Call it paranoia, but who knew what they were capable of now?

Highly advanced firepower? 'They have it.'

Indispensable manpower? 'No doubt about it.'

Clone technology? 'I fucking hope not.'

Who knew what they would do if they got a hold of Him? What would become of us if anything of the sort would happen to Him? This was one of the reasons I had to be as thorough as I possibly could in removing all traces of my DNA from the car.

These are very dangerous times. Since the main headquarters had fallen, the Family has suffered terrible losses.

'Keep walking... Keep shallow breaths...' The enemy is not allowing time for us to grieve. They will never give us time to recover our injuries and bury our dead... This is the cruelty of my dark, cut- throat world. 'There's no time. Keep walking.'

The attempts at negotiations had stopped ever since that day. What choice did we have...? All we could do now is go into hiding, lick our wounds and desperately rebuild our forces.

Despite all of it, the Family still wants to give a rightful valediction to Him. We owe Him that much.

This brings up the other purpose for my being here.

I try to quell my fear again. But it's easier said than done. I sneaked a glance at my covered rings. My right hand is shaking... I wonder how the Hell I am going to break the news to the others. 'Keep walking. There's no time to waste. Just go. As fast as you can.'

I managed to keep going by forcing myself to keep calm. If there are enemies around, then I would hate to think what they could have done if they had found Him... I know I should hurry but I can't risk running. Any kind of surveillance the enemy may have set up around the area could be alerted immediately. Giannini had excessively warned me to proceed with caution at all times. So had Romario...

The over- all plan was simple: meet in the designated spot. Rendezvous with my allies and together bring Him back to the hideout. It sounded really damn easy were it not for the fact the enemy practically had eyes everywhere. If they were not in the form of spies and assassins, they were powerful, near- fucking invincible Strau Moscas.

I tried to make my breaths shallow again and tried to erase my presence as much as possible. Times like this make me think that that the Guardian of Mist is lucky to have the ability to create illusions in order to mask himself.

However there must be downsides to it; the Strau Moscas were equipped with heat sensors and a technology to detect rings. Unlike the previous Gola Mosca, they are purely machines. Illusions are made to fool the human senses. No matter how powerful, they may not be able to fool a machine that obviously lacks those senses. 'Especially a machine of the Millefiore power and technology's making'.

I shook my head. 'There you go again, you're being naïve,' I scolded myself. 'This is the Guardian of Mist, Rokudo Mukuro, you're talking about...' I recalled the few encounters I have had with him. 'Even after all these years there is only so much that you know he is capable of. You don't know exactly how powerful his illusions are so you shouldn't think of him so lightly.' I told myself.

Then I frowned at the thought. 'But you shouldn't think so highly of him either.' Despite his services to the Family, there is still much to be doubted about his loyalty.

Well, since I obviously lack the ability to create illusions, I have to compensate as best as I can: I made sure to avoid any fallen branches, twigs and dried leaves as I walked in order to make as little noise as possible.

Since entering the forest, I had tried hard to keep my mind off the worst possible scenarios that could take place.

'Maybe I should have sent up a scout ring box to check the area before I went into the forest.' But I suppose it's a little too late for it.

I've been walking for a little more than an hour now. It's should be way past noon by now. It's probably around three o' clock or four... I don't check my watch. I don't want to deal with that awful feeling of guilt again. It reminds me how little time we have... How there was little to no time to save Him on that day... That time was still running for the world but had stopped for Him.

'I'm getting hungry.' I haven't eaten since that tiny little tuna sandwich from this morning. I've been too afraid to walk out into the open civilian areas and buy a better meal. I'm afraid of meeting someone I know and have them targeted by the enemies next simply because they are my acquaintances.

Since the enemies started killing us off, we'd been forced to cut nearly all ties... It doesn't go without saying that they still hurt. Despite how seemingly fickle, those bonds are part of what tie us together as Family. Having to break off all communication made me feel very alone...

Speaking of ties, I wonder if my allies have arrived by now.

I think it's a miracle I still haven't been spotted. I'm pretty sure that I should be sticking out because of my attire... Who the Hell in his fucking right mind would be hiking in a forest in an obviously expensive Armani suit and leather office shoes?

'Heh, who am I to talk? I feel like I've lost my mind ever since that day.'

Going off the subject, it's mostly thanks to the Auto Mammon chain ring covers around my rings on my right hand that they haven't spotted me yet.

Looking around, I see nothing but trees and the clear blue sky.

Damn.

The sky.

I looked down at the ground again as guilt and grief started to eat at my chest once more.

I hate this feeling. I've been trying to avoid it since I came here.

It forcibly reminds me of that day. It reminds me that I am still only human and that there was only so much I could do.

Hell, I can't bear to look at the sky now; it reminds me too much of Him... It was what He symbolized and that was what He was to the Family. '...To all of us.'

It would be a lie to deny that I had felt utterly powerless and alone after that terrible day.

I tried to force my mind off the awful feeling eating in my chest. I had to keep moving. I tried to do away the thought that I was alone.

Now that I had thought of it, I probably am not alone in this silent place.

To think in that foolish and simple way now is very dangerous.

I don't know who or what could be around, waiting to pull the trigger on me or blast me into nothingness.

A great injury would be dealt to the Family's nearly diminished forces if I'm caught and killed.

While I don't want to think that my death would bring such a consequence, who else would be left to protect what remained of the Family if that happened? Those with fighting abilities, if not dead, are severely wounded or in hiding... Several more would suffer as a consequence and would likely be killed as well.

If I died before I can keep His wishes; before I can be able to protect the Family and all those He held dear in His place... then what the Hell am I supposed to be living for?

It was this thought that kept me from willingly killing myself right after that terrible day. I made Him a promise that I wouldn't ever again do something as stupid as throwing my life away again. 'But then again...It would take more than a building to kill me now.'

I heard the unmistakable sound of an explosion coming from the spot where I'd crashed the rental car. The explosion tells me that it is 1:45 in the afternoon now. That was the time I had set the bomb and my cell phone to go off...

As of a few seconds ago, this Mafioso is now 'officially' a dead man.

While it is a slight reassurance, it still does not lessen my fears.

I'm still a little further from the rendezvous point... I'll have to hurry even more if I want to make it in time to the designated time my allies are set to arrive... I know can never take His place as the main protector of the Family but it shouldn't stop me from trying to protect them anyway. He would have wanted the Family to stay safe.

I had sworn to Him that I would continue to keep them safe...

'Please... promise me...'

I walked briskly for about twenty minutes, thinking of nothing but making it to the rendezvous point and listening for enemy attacks.

I don't need to look back... I know that there should be a high plume of black smoke coming from the crash site where I 'died'.

I could hear some humming noises and instinctively dodged behind a tree. Overhead, were squads of airborne scouts from the Black Spell of Millefiore. I assumed they are going to investigate my 'death'. I had purposely left the registration and the license plate of the car alone. No doubt they will find it rented from the car rental garage.

I stayed hidden until I am sure that they are far away. After the humming noises faded, I crept out from my hiding place and continued on my way.

About ten minutes passed. I'm still not any closer to rendezvous point now.

Once again, I found myself shaking and feeling sick... But this time I don't know why.

I'm tempted to calm myself the way I normally do... But I can't though. The problem with it is it that it risks calling attention of anyone and anything in this forest.

It has got to be the stress. 'When I get back to the hideout, I call first dibs on the punching sand bag in the work- out room.'

Suddenly, an unfamiliar noise caught my attention and once again I tried to keep my fear from overtaking me. I heard the sounds of something moving somewhere in the direction of the rendezvous point.

I didn't... or rather... couldn't recognize who or what it is at the moment. Several possible and impossible scenarios raced through my mind as I drew nearer.

'Am I caught?

'Did my comrades arrive already?

'Or perhaps were they the ones caught?

'Are the enemies nearby?'

I didn't know and I'm honestly fucking scared. 'Stop it. This is not the time to be a coward. There is no longer any time to be a coward.

'You are not a child anymore. It's not a game and it never was.' I am tempted to take a deep breath to calm myself but I forced myself not to. I couldn't afford to alert whoever it was in case they are enemies.

My mind was still racing, forming a plan as I continued to move forward: if it is an enemy, I would try to lure them away from the rendezvous point and from HIM.

Once I am a safe distance away from the rendezvous point, I will try to keep them busy, long enough for my allies to notice and give them time to move to the hideout entrance. I'm aware that I am severely disadvantaged without my more powerful box weapons and definitely without my most powerful ring.

'Why the Hell did you decide to have most of your stronger ring box weapons sent to the hideout first?' I scolded myself. 'Alright... Enough of regretting... That could be an enemy in front of you. Your priority is to protect your allies now.'

Hopefully they can take a hint and get Him back to the hideout before the enemy notices.

'It's reckless, naïve, and definitely a stupid plan.'

It's too simple. But I don't have time to dwell on the finer details and come up with a better one; I could be caught and killed before I could have the chance of making the element of surprise my advantage.

For some reason, in my panic, I remembered one of the items I saved from the car. I could feel my gut clench as I remembered what it took to have it come into my possession.

I felt sick... I could hear his voice... 'Please take it,'

'Vongola Tenth, I'm sorry. I can't do that now... I don't think I ever can...'

I steeled myself for a confrontation.

If it is an enemy in front of me... Please, everyone, all the Guardians... '...Tsuna...' If I fail here...if I die here... Please... 'Please forgive me...'


Time: 02:13:40 PM

Location: Forest on the outskirts of Namimori City. Exact coordinates deleted.

Note:

Information to be sent to civilian public press: Death by car accident. Accident caused by engine failure. Vehicle crash site located off public road at a blind spot/sharp curve.

Information to be sent to mafia information network: Death by timed explosive planted by Millefiore assassins. Scraps of clothing identified as property of target found on site of detonation.

Mission Objective: Tactical retreat

1. Vongola Famiglia member killed by car accident. Time of death: 01:45:40 PM.

Mission objective completed

2. Rendezvous with Vongola allies

Mission objective incomplete

3. Transport... ERROR: Mission file transmission failed...

Mission File Status: Cannot commence deletion of mission file.

Mission Status:

MISSION ONGOING

TRANSMISSION OF MISSION FILE 001 FAILED

RECONNECTION FAILED; CHECKING CONNECTION SETTINGS


"T.R.R.o.R" Database Administrator's Notes!: Don't read on without them!

[PILOT POST] 04/19/2008: Thanks to the following: urja shannan, black-red-blue, Sadistic Uchiha, unamariposa, and Orange-Butterfly-100 for reviewing my pilot post of half of Rewrite 01. This is the rewrite of the first chapter as promised, guys. It's obviously longer and hopefully you'll find it more informative regarding the identity of the protagonist (although I did leave one very obvious clue in the pilot post... I'm still wondering why nobody has spotted it yet.) I corrected some grammatical problems and plot errors (to the best of my abilities) and added some elements that were missing in the pilot post. I already know that I have a problem with maintaining consistency with my tenses. (My English professors seem to make it a point to torment me over it by making what should be perfect fives on my quizzes into annoying 'pass' marks of threes. It's injustice, I tell you!)

[EDIT] 07/17/2008: Apologies for the edits? OK, I apologize then; but it looks a lot cleaner and a bit more computer- ish now, eh? I put an anti- plagiarism note too.

[UPDATE] 12/29/2008: I changed my penname again. Just felt like it anyway. I was kind of bothered that the abbreviation of my second penname is "BL" (when I don't write BL at all). I also added in the other details that were kept out of the previous version. Font size 10, single spaced and font style Calibri, the pilot post was originally 16 pages long (Author's notes included). The updated version that came after it was 22 pages. The real full version was actually 25 pages… But then I cut out the middle part and put it somewhere later because I thought it was already more than enough of an "info overload" for anybody (even me).

Clam Clan Chat Conversation: "GiantClam02"is Giannini, the Vongola Family's Weapons Tuner (or "Mecha- artist" he claims). 'Giant', cause he's huge (-coughobesecough-) and '02' because he's 'ni' (two… y'know… because his old man is Gianichi 'ichi' meaning 'one'), while "Clam010Pearl" is the temporary username our narrator used. It's deleted immediately after the cell phone was disposed of so it definitely won't pop up again in the future. While the 'pearl' part makes the username sound girly, my justification for using it is: oysters form pearls by coating their spit around particles of dirt or very small sea creatures as a self defense mechanism to protect it. Clam010Pearl's task is to try to protect the Family by purposely taking 'damage' (faking death). Also, 'pearl' is a reference to the user's present location, the "three- star hotel with a pearl logo".

I purposely had them have the word 'Clam' in their usernames as a reference to Vongola… because (Pft… Everybody should know this by now.) 'Vongola' is Italian for 'clam'… Babelfish keeps giving me 'mollusca' whenever I have it translate 'clam' into Italian, but that's completely beside the point...

Also, if anyone's noticed, the chat conversation has a lot of references to the sea and ships, etc. (It's very tacky but then again, the Vongola is quite eccentric in itself. It does employ embarrassing ridiculousness in its weapons technology... like the normal Dying Will Bullet). It's in a way a code, which hopefully you'd been able to understand. If you didn't understand it then, well, you're not supposed to unless you work for Vongola. LOL. Kidding.

Here's the translation of what was being talked about:


GiantClam02: You're still swimming? (You're still alive?)-relief-(This is an emoticon. Obviously he's been worried) That's good.

Clam010Pearl: They were definitely sharks (Millefiore spies) to blood(Reference to Family members or in this case our narrator. This means Clam010Pearl was being followed and from the looks of it, those are very difficult spies to shake off.)

Clam010Pearl: I won't stay long; Low tide at 0300(I'm leaving at 3:00 AM). Expect the tide to come in at about 0600. (Expect me to arrive at about 6:00 AM)

GiantClam02: You wanted to ask me about something? Is it about your shipwrecking? (Shipwrecking- the fake car accident Clam010Pearl did to throw the spies off.)

Clam010Pearl: I got your dead man's chest (The explosives stolen from the Millefiore warehouse) and your pirate map (The coordinates or directions for the locations he needs to go to). I don't need help with the navigation and the ropes(Where and how to set the explosives), I never liked cramming. I didn't go ashore (go on-line) to read about your new discoveries about their 'brilliance' and 'genius'.

Clam010Pearl: You didn't give me the name (plate number) of the ship (car) I should be taking when I get to port (rental car garage).

GiantCalm02: LOL didn't think that you thought of it that way.

GiantClam02: Right. I'll send it to you when you dock (When you arrive at the garage).

GiantClam02: Remember to dispose of this (he means the cell phone) soon. It's slated to go off at 1445 (It will self destruct at 2:45 PM).

Clam010Pearl: I know. My grub's (food) just arrived. I'll get my stuff first then.

GiantClam02: Make sure they keep you in sight until you leave.


Yeah... That's just about it. It's pretty lame (but actually, I think it's corny) but I'm in no mood to invent a better code that's decipherable for the general public (isn't it why it's called a code in the first place?). But I think it's better than writing the whole conversation in Morse code. (Then nobody will be able to understand anything at all! Mwehehehe...).

(UPDATE: 09/11/2008: Entire chat conversation translated to £337 5p34k... Hahaha! Now Vongola communications are doubly- secure! In case you're wondering, I don't read/speak/write £337 that well. There are 'converter' sites (similar to Babelfish) for it.) There's also a reason why the guy had to hide his cell phone screen: anyone can actually look at what's on a person's chat screen... or ATM for that matter... if they zoom in the lens of a video camera. But that depends on the where you're standing and what kind of camera you're using. Although, most of the cases I've heard this trick being used take place in airports. Maybe that's why they've been strict about those lately. Identity theft is pretty nasty.)

[1] Seppuku: Originally done by the samurai as a way to die with honor... Mafiosi are also called "men of honor". In this case, they preferred to die rather than rat out their base's location. Whether it was a brave sacrifice or a dumb move is up to the reader's interpretation. The narrator is definitely uncertain of what to make of it.

Let me know if I've piqued your interest to continue reading this crap. So I can decide if it's still worth continuing.

If you mean to ask, this is definitely set in the TYL Future Arc. :D

Till the next time! Bye- bee!!


PREVIEW:

Rewrite 002: Pretend Mafia Tag and a Solo Snowball Fight

Time: 02:00:45 PM

Location: A Satellite Vongola Mansion, 3rd floor, South Wing Corridor, somewhere in Italy.

Note: Deactivation of Ring Box Weapons require the user to extinguish their Dying Will Flames

Archive File Summary: Locate the Tenth Vongola Boss, Sawada Tsunayoshi and Tenth Vongola Guardian of Storm, Gokudera Hayato.

Archive File Status: Downloading 02.35873324 percent complete...

STANDBY FOR ARCHIVE FILE 003 TRANSMISSION

'So they're not on this floor. Then where could they be?' He wondered to himself. He decided to try the third floor. He was banking on them being in either the lounge or in Tsuna's office, presumably busy with Tsuna's paperwork or preparing for the meeting they had to keep with a rather new mafia family.

He was only a few steps away from the third floor when his ears picked up the sound of muffled movement. Feeling a little worried, Yamamoto jumped the last few steps and raced toward the source of the noise.

And then...

CRASH. THUMP. BLAG!

CHOMP.

"GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRGGGHHHH!!" A loud scream pierced throughout the entire floor of the mansion.

ERROR: TRANSMISSION OF ARCHIVE FILE 003 FAILED

RE-ESTABLISH CONNECTION?

(Y/N?)


For mission transmission connection:

1. Click the review button for (Y)

2. Click the Return to Top at the bottom of the page for (N) and reread the whole thing.

...I've really got nothing to do on my summer vacation... I don't promise to update as often as anyone likes. I have a life offline.