Title: A Wayward Journey
Genre: Action/Adventure/Fantasy
Rating: T
Themes: 14 (Fantasy/Fairy Tale) & 24 (locked in/stuck in the middle of nowhere)
Chapter: 1 of 2
Author: Yomi
Author's Notes: Never tried my hand at these 30 themes before. I picked up the themes from 30(underscore)originals at the LJ.
Summary: Interested in the works and creation of a mad scientist, whom Illumi has been hired to assassinate, Machi is under Dancho's orders to collaborate with the Zoldick. During the operation, chaos, hysteria and a dash of intimacy ensues.


They were hell bent in making sure he couldn't hear their discussions. Not that he was interested. They didn't need to give him reason, justification or even a moving speech. He only wanted the name, and how much they were willing to pay to eliminate the person attached to it.

Assassination contracts were simple.

It was complicated for those who struggled with making the order. They weighed their conscience and grappled with fear of being caught for having issued the directive.

That was their problem.

"If I charged by the hour, you'd have been billed for 10,000 jenis by now," he not-so-politely interrupted. Middle-aged men with exploding waste lines waving their sweaty paws around and bickering like panicked geese was not why had had learned to endure torture as a child. They warily eyed him with degrees of uncertainty and mistrust under an overriding fear that attacked their breaths with shudders.

He knew his vacuous eyes and hollow look had that effect on people, not long after strangers, and then family, ceased to allow their gaze to linger on his undeniably handsome and refined features. That was why he was staring at them like an expressionless mannequin and causing havoc to reign in their frightened fantasies about the infamous Zoldick killing machine.

"Mr. Zoldick, this is a delicate situation."

For you, not me, his unwavering stare communicated, and one of them clutched an area on his chest directly above where the heart should have been beating.

The leader persisted in giving an explanation which he thought was entirely asinine in its irrelevance. "Should Dr. Murilied complete his research, its benefit to humanity is incalculable, but at the same time, it could plunge us into war and wipe two nations off the map. The fate of a country should not be left in the hands of a mad man. We must have control of it."

Or no one else will, he placidly completed the unspoken clause in his mind. Politicians were hypocrisy in its pure and undiluted form, never failing to repulse those exposed to the sickly aura for an extended period of time. He felt that he was reaching the limits of this 'extended' period of time because his frustrated sighs were now becoming audible and on its own accord, slender fingertips drummed against the table top.

"Mr. Zoldick, do you have absolutely any idea what Dr. Murilied's invention is capable of doing? If we destroy his research, we eliminate the threat of war, as well as one of the rarest jewels humans have not seen since fire."

He abruptly stood up, and a number of them clumsily reached for their guns hidden inside their blazers, although they froze into statues after a dozen pins were embedded into the rotting wood of the table in warning. "Then call me when you've made your decision."

After those curt words, he vacated the room under the heavy blanket of ominous silence.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

He supposed he could have lobbied harder to get the contract. Who said no to good, hard cash waiting to be adopted if only you'd sink one of your lethal musle-altering pins into the vulnerable body of an anemic scientist who hadn't seen the sun in the last five years?

Rolling his eyes at the wasted opportunity, he sought to escape the bite of the chilly evening wind and veered into the first respectable restaurant where succulent aromas of steak wafted onto the streets each time its front doors were swung open by a patron. The interior was dim and the singer of a live jazz band crooned away in an insolated corner, out of everyone's way.

He was thankful for the warm, cushioned seat, and once he shed his jacket, he ordered a long black and immediately picked up the glossy laminated menu and scanned its offerings.

"Illu!"

A shiver ran up and down his spine several times, rendering him motionless for a good two seconds. There was only one person in the world who purred that truncated form of his decent name in such disturbing and lecherous tones. Gritting his teeth, he made himself draw in a deep breath before turning in the direction where the voice had come from.

He had only ever seen him with white paint smeared all over his face and a coloured star and tear beneath his eyes, so that was the only explanation he could give for not noticing him when he stepped in looking like the average human being. And calmly seated opposite the deranged lunatic was a petite female figure whose piercing golden glare probed around his immaculate façade.

A hand that normally toyed with a deck of cards invited him to approach, and a smug, all confident grin dominated Hisoka's face. One pencil thin eyebrows sprang up, as if unleashed from its restraints, and he returned to study the menu, scorning the invitation.

"Don't be so cold-hearted, Illu," the magician playfully complained. As footsteps, two sets of them, headed determinedly towards him, an ache began to build up on the sides of his temples. "He's not normally like this, Machi. I think he's jealous of seeing you with me."

"Don't give yourself so much credit, clown." the blue-haired girl, Machi, coldly snapped back. "This is your informant?"

He mentally rolled his eyes. He was nobody's informant. Or if he was, he expected to be paid upfront in full and in advance, then he'd send Karuto off to do his merry work and give him a 30 cut of the pay cheque.

They seated themselves on his table without asking and looked at him as if answers, which he didn't have, would miraculously tumble out free of charge. He really should ask them why they felt like interposing on him during dinner time. Didn't they know he'd had a bad day and had let a twelve-figure sum walk right past without even attempting to seduce it?

Hisoka wouldn't care. Hisoka only cared for himself. That was all they had in common.

"Ah, patience dear Machi. Illumi denies it, but you pretty much have to coax him into co-operating. Illu - "

There it was again, that despised leer, a slander and mockery of his decent name, delivered as if it were a term of affection or a private joke that they did not share.

" – Machi, beside me here, is interested in some information you may have."

"And it is the only reason why I agreed to – "

" – come out on a date – " smiled Hisoka.

" attend this restaurant in the company of Hisoka," Machi defensively corrected and finished with another glare colder than the elements outside the restaurant.

It was like listening to his siblings bicker at the dinner table over the last drumstick or chicken wing, or the politicians earlier, arguing amongst themselves until their faces were flushed an ugly red. The urge to rip out their jugulars was almost becoming irresistible and in response to the thought, blood rushed to his fingertips, awaiting for the order to transform normal delicate appendages into merciless tools of murder. For assuming that he would even help out just because they were acquainted, Hisoka deserved nothing less than to be beaten to death with the sugar spoon.

"What information could I possibly have that the Ryodan couldn't obtain for themselves?" If he could quickly kill their enthusiasm for interrogating him, he would be able to enjoy dinner and tuck himself into a nice, warm cocoon of a doona before midnight. The headache wasn't doing any favours for his temper either.

"Murilied," Machi instantly got to the point and superbly ignored all of Hisoka's self-congratulatory purrs. "Dancho and Shal have heard rumors that the mad doctor has made some quite spectacular discoveries that Dancho has taken a personal interest in. We want to know where this good doctor is, and what, if any, his defences are like around his guarded compound. You only want the man. We want his research."

He waved a dismissive hand and irritably raked the other through his long mass of ebony hair, too absorbed by his irritation to notice Hisoka's restrained but longing stare, envying the hand that was freely allowed to touch the mane of black silk. "I know nothing. My clients haven't made up their mind as to whether they want me to exterminate with extreme prejudice or not. You wouldn't believe what my brother charges these days for information. I'm not going to ask Millu to dig until I have a 50 deposit in hand."

The Ryodan member was clearly disappointed. She bit her bottom lip in thought and cast him a doubtful look, trying to ascertain whether he was telling the truth. Did she think he was hoarding information because he wanted to claim the miraculous research for himself after he killed the doctor?

He didn't know what gave his thinking away, but Machi somehow sensed his curiosity. Hisoka had commented sometime in the past that the woman had a sixth sense. Illumi was more of a seeing-is-believing person, but he would reconsider the merits of this attitude another day when he wasn't feeling so cranky.

"Some say Dr. Murilied has found the key to immortality; others say he has in his hands a devastating weapon of mass murder. In any event, Dancho wants to have a good look at it and the doctor has done surprisingly well hiding himself from the eyes of the rest of the world."

Nodding in sarcastic keenness, the effects of which drew dark shadows across Machi's face, he said in artificial brightness, "Well, happy treasure hunting to you. Just don't expect me to be involved. Money appeals to me more."

That said, his mobile phone rang and he glanced at the identity of the incoming caller. Luck smiled upon him and graced him with a second chance to seduce that twelve-figure.

"I care nothing for the research," he declared as he pushed his chair out and stood up, shrugging into his jacket. "Two hundred million jenis is my price if you want to tag along. Take it or leave it. I leave the Hotel Damakrilos tomorrow afternoon and I'm not doing any more talking unless I see the credit."

The last he saw of Machi was the young woman pinching the bridge of her nose in resignation as Hisoka wriggled deeper into the chair, making himself comfortable, and ordered the set dinner for couples, the smile of victory never wavering.

Apart from their selfishness, they had nothing else in common.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The satisfaction of seeing his account bloat by a sizeable sum made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. His lax facial muscles, accounting for his usual lack of outward expression, tingled, warming his cheeks and almost wheedled a genuine smile from his lips. Milluki took a twenty five percent cut for the intelligence report, and he got to pocket the rest. There was no easier way than this to earn money.

They stood out in the open streets, numbly watching traffic past as the sun inched to its zenith, and the people deliberately side-stepped the mismatched pair, giving them wide berth. Exhaust from cars made it increasingly difficult to breathe and the din of midday traffic began to grate on their eardrums.

After half an hour, Machi finally broke the silence.

"So, Illumi." He sensed her hesitation in pronouncing his name, distressed or uncomfortable about the illusion of familiarity created by the use of his first name, but reluctant to resort to overt formalism with use of his surname. "What's your plan?"

He had many. Some that parents didn't even know about. "Be specific."

Her eyebrows lowered a fraction and her voice gained an edge. "How do you intend to carry out your job this time?"

Oh, that. Boring. "According to my brother, Dr. Murilied no longer exists on the face of the earth."

"What?"

Illumi raised his head and squinted as he directly stared into the sun, lost for a moment in the shifting swirls and colours of the ultra violet rays burning into his retina. "It's about time. Follow."

The shabby warehouse he took the woman to squatted opposite the docks and looked as if it was hastily patched up with splintered planks of wood after a two tonne truck tore a highway right through it in the middle of the night. With three seagulls aimlessly drifting on the wind currents above, there was nothing overtly suspicious about the dilapidated structure, which was exactly the reason why both man and woman proceeded ahead with gyo flaring in their eyes, and for Illumi, his en stretched to a hundred meter radius, drawing a bewildered expression from Machi that was rapidly concealed beneath another mask of calm and a change of topic.

"I thought Dr. Murilied's defences would be better than this," Machi muttered under her breath in disgust, secretly fuming for the amount of money the Ryodan paid the professional assassin to lead them to such a run-down building. As far as her eyes could see, it was an empty, abandoned warehouse with paint peeling off four bare walls and dust gathering on the ground. No one had been here for weeks.

Illumi gave her a thoughtful look and the admonishment was in the timbre of his voice. "I already told you he's not on the face of the earth, so why then would he need physical security measures?"

Fists clenched by her side. "That's the part you haven't explained," she bit out.

The slender assassin moved away from her side, his light footfalls leaving no mark on the ground and never once did he disturb a single molecule of dirt. Wide-eyed and astonished, Machi found herself captivated and devoting her entire attention to his visage. His voice flooded into her senses, embracing her whole and every word was branded into her mind.

"In my entire career, I have come across…two…people who had the ability to generate a dimension which they can freely enter and exit – "

Like Shizuku's deme-chan!

" – and aware that his research was in its final stages, the doctor left 'earth' all together, away from the hand-rubbing of ambitious men. It is what any logical person would have done."

"So the doctor is a nen-user?"

A brusque nod. "Or he hired someone to make him a dimension to hide in. One assumes that a nen-user must be inside or near his dimension to maintain it, If we factor in the doctor's paranoia at this stage, he would like to work in total secrecy and will not tolerate company. So that means there should be a nen-user around."

"Negative," Machi immediately confirmed, although her eyes darted around the gloom, especially around the corners to which the shadows and darkness so desperately clung. "So Murilied's created his own dimension to work in. Great – how do we proceed?"

The assassin had crouched down onto the ground, and his long fine fingers acted as a feather duster, gently parting the dirt to locate some invisible clues only he could apparently see. "I doubt the doctor could exert his nen to create a dimension and concentrate on finalizing his research at the same time. If he's not a nen user, and if there is no one in a hundred-meter radius upholding the dimension, what do you think that means?"

Aside from the ghostly light scraping of Illumi's hand on the ground, silence loudly resonated around Machi, tampering with her ability to think. For an instant, she resented the Zoldick's calm exterior and how the enigma did nothing to ruffle his proverbial feathers.

"You already have an answer." It was an accusation more than a statement, and Illumi admitted by lowering his head in another small, patient nod.

"The highest possibility which remains is that Dr. Murilied's research involves another dimension. Here, have a look."

Almost grudgingly, Machi willed her body to move and studied the patch of ground in front of Illumi's booted toe. She blinked, once, twice, then saw faint, hairline cracks. With a sweep of his hand, sending a cloud of dust into the air and a suppressed cough on Machi's behalf, more lines appeared in the ground and glittered like a gossamer web stretching on endlessly in all directions.

"Don't stare too hard." The warning in Illumi's voice was genuine and real, and his alarm was no illusion either. "Our minds are truly not vast enough to comprehend what the doctor has created. I think I'm starting to understand now…no, I can't understand, I can only appreciate, the enormity of his project."

She refused to be daunted, crossing her arms and gave a soft snort. "Don't be silly. The worst these lines can do is give me a headache, migraine even. Has our resident assassin lost his nerve?"

"Milluki said to find the locks on the portal as they will become weakest when the sun is directly aligned above the gateway," Illumi continued, giving no indication he heard Machi's insult, or if he did, was not affected by it. "This is the gateway, the lock. We activate this, and we'll find the doctor."

"Just hold on a minute." Machi reached into her white gi and retrieved her phone, nimble fingers already finished with the speed dial. "Hello, Shal? Yep, I've kind of found the location – Warehouse 14 on Venor Port. The Zoldick and I are probably going to make contact with the doctor. Is there anything in particular that I should be on the lookout for? Mmmhmm….I've got the USB flash stick with me…no, I cannot bring the scientist back alive….all right, I'll call you when I can."

He remained crouched on the ground as Machi made the call, idle musings about her telephone conversation with 'Shal' provoking questions and conclusions he'd never considered before. When had he ever called any one before his assignments? Who would he call and what was the point of calling anyway? To ensure someone always knew his last known whereabouts in case he vanished without a trace? Then that meant the 'someone' would have to be a person who 'cared' about his movements and 'cared' more still whether he was going to return from a mission. Ever since he became an unnamed partner in the Zoldick family business, he stopped reporting, and no one cared enough to ask.

Fascinating, Illumi wryly thought as he watched Machi slip the cellphone back into the folds of her gi. Even class A felons still knew how to care for each other after all. How on earth did Karuto work alongside people from such a different world to theirs?

"Let's do it," Machi said, albeit too roughly. He suspected she was trying to hide the quaver of fear that shook her voice.

"Place your hands here and engage the gateway with your hatsu," Illumi instructed, his detached demeanor giving the young woman no notice of what to expect.

Blithely doing as she was told, Machi palmed the ground and let her nen be expelled from her hands. The moment her nen caressed the gateway, a million luminescent threads lashed out and assaulted her mind, trying to bend it into the shape of the gateway. It stretched beyond three dimensions, reaching backwards and forwards in time at dizzying speeds and threatened to tear her mind apart to make it keep up.

She emitted one short shriek as a blast of brilliant white light enveloped her whole consciousness whole. And then everything was still.

After what seemed like hours, she felt something tap against her cheek repeatedly, alternating on either side.

"Machi….Machi…" someone's voice was vaguely calling to her. The Zoldick's tranquil, alto tones full of a mother's worry. A tear slipped from her eye.

"Bastard," she croaked past a parched throat and sluggish tongue. "Why didn't you warn me?"

"No time to argue. The gateway's almost about to close. Can you sit up?"

"I can't even visualize the bloody gateway," she moaned, consenting to firm hands urging her into a sitting position. Surprisingly, her skin didn't immediately form gooseflesh when bare hands grasped onto her naked arms. For some reason, she found herself picturing how she'd instantly lash out with fists, feet and teeth had it been Hisoka who currently held her thus. Pushing the irrelevance to one side, she focused on the problem at hand. "How can I even pass through if I'm going to lose my sanity just trying to hold the door handle?"

Illumi's sigh tickled her bare neck. "I guess I could go on myself and leave you here. But you have paid, and a Zoldick never reneges on a deal after he's received commission." Another long sigh. "Very well. If it won't bother you too much, wrap your arms around me and, quite literally, cling on."

Her arms wound themselves around the man's incredibly slender waist and she cautiously rested her cheek against his back. She'd heard Karuto speak of his eldest brother before, depicting him as an untouchable god of death, graceful in his brutality, alluring in his merciless attacks and docile with his violence. The boy was right. His brother had evolved to the stage where the intent to kill was as natural as breathing or walking to him and so he passed off as a normal man with a demure countenance.

How frightening and comforting.

She was untouched by panic as reality once again warped around them, because the Zoldick's heart never once skipped a beat, and she felt safe enough to close her eyes.

When she opened them again, they stood on a grassy knoll and up above them, an unending inky black night sky twinkling the lights of a million stars.