Yeah I know. New story while I can't even update the others. Read my profile please for what I have to say, yes? Yes. Thanks! 3

Black in the midst of a rainbow, would be bound to get noticed.

In a place like this, clad in the black to boot with barely any color, one would be spotted immediately.

An aura such as this, was not to be taken lightly.

A woman, a young blossom with thick make-up and such revealing skimpy outfits, noticed him. She knew him as that man who entered that house in the corner, and never came out until business hours have finished. He was enigma, yes, and she knew, if she got him to stay here for once, she'd be bestowed with rewards. And so she took the initiative. "Fedora man, hey! Why not give us a try for once, hm~?" There, she grasped his attention. Blue eyes darted to her companions, all young blossoms as well, and sent them a voiceless message to follow. They did.

"Yes, why not? After all, it's not fair that you fancy only one brothel after all!" Another one added in, earning herself a choir of agreements. They looked at him as he turned to face them, all struck by lust as they saw his facial features. However, they paid no mind at all, to the aura that was different from the rest, or the fact that his eyes remained still and unnerved.

A chuckle rang out from the back of the group. "You know what they say: Buy One, Take All!" Hearing this, the women laughed among themselves, smiling at the inside joke made.
Real laughter.

True joy.

Or...is it?

"No thank you, signorinas." The man in question tipped his fedora upwards, which was what made him different from the rest, and gave a smirk that somehow sent them silent. "I'm only committed to one house only, and that alone." He said, as if in a whisper; a loud one. He then proceeded to bring back his fedora down, and covered his eyes, turning away from them. "However, I would keep your offers in mind."

That seemed to have brought back the glee to the prostitutes, as they laughed and chuckled among themselves. They waved cheerfully at the man's retreating back, as said man made his way to the house he was oh-so loyal to. "Good bye, Fedora man!"

Not even once did they notice, the deep obsidian hues of his, that eyed each one of them earlier, with different emotions. He continued walking, smirking to himself, and said eyes glowed menacingly under the brim of his fedora. The image of the women's gleeful faces and cheerful noise imprinted themselves in his memory, like a video or a picture so to say, before it was slowly consumed by flames. The flames, which were as red as crimson blood, mixed with the dark despairs of his mind's depth. The gleeful expressions slowly morphed into expressions of sadness, depression, and fear; the sounds of laughter and joy became distorted, and began mixing themselves into screams of agony and fear... The smirk was replaced by a gentle smile, a smile which seemed to speak louder than the screams in his mind, or the laughter around him.

Such joy...such glee...they didn't last, nor will they ever, in his opinion. They were useless in his life, and seeing such things irked him greatly. To think, that they tried to make it as real as possible, when it was obvious to him, that it would never be real. The fantasy of it all was simply disgusting. Those whores couldn't even do a great impression of fake sincerity if they tried. It was amusing, yes, but it disgusted him to no end.

He stopped in his tracks, turned around, and eyed the group of women that attempted to win him over just earlier. Lifting his fedora once more, his eyes glowed brighter, and he opened his mouth gradually, whispering only one word. One word, and suddenly, fire engulfed the brothel he stopped by to chat with the women. That one, simple, word, that caused a massacre of a whole whore house in a matter of seconds. "Chaos."

"Heh," And he walked away slowly, glow fading, fedora down, yet the deadly smirk remains. Screams filled the air as agony and fear decorated it. Blood was on the floor and walls, and the women-oh the ugly, disgusting, fake, women...He was satisfied; There wasn't enough pain, enough agony, in his opinion, but it'll have to do. He couldn't afford to create a mess yet, lest he looses this power that makes him the best. This power that gives him all he desires. This power...this deadly power that gives him the chance to eradicate all those who defy him; disgust him; irritate him...

And who knows, even the whole world if he felt up for it.

The darkness was a scary, scary thing.

It was scary in the way it can frighten pure boyren with monsters under their beds, or even adults with nightmares.

But was was more fearful with it, is that it calms those who it has corrupted beyond repair. And that in itself, is to be feared.

"Let me out of here! Let me out!" Chains shackled against the metal bars, as a brunet shook the bars while shouting. "LET ME OUT! I DON'T DESERVE THIS! LET ME OUT YOU BASTARDS!" The white ensemble he wore was now grey, holes opening on the sides and back, and splotches of red and other colors decorated it. Bare feet and hands were rough and covered with blisters, very unlikely for those his age. Chains were attached to his body, ensuring of his captivity-on the neck, his ankles, and his wrists.

He knew that this place, this ugly place, was nothing but a hellhole. It was always dark here...always so lonely. These people never gave him much company, and those that did, are long gone. Everyone here was a bastard, nothing more, nothing less.

A scoff was heard and a pocket knife flew his way, hitting him straight in the eye and knocking him down on his back. "Trash." The man mumbled. He stood up and walked towards the jail cell, and hovered over the poor boy, who screamed as he tried to remove the knife from his eye.. "You deserve to be here, idiot. You were useless, so they gave you to us. And now that we're giving you use..." He brought his foot up to him, and stomped on his stomach. The boy sat up, wheezing, to glare at him, the knife beside him and one had covered his wounded eye. "You should be thankful instead."

"Why s-should I be thankful?!" The stab wound on his eye was taking a toll on him. His vision was blurring, and his breathing was getting ragged. Yet, he could clearly see the ugly smirk the man had on his face. It irritated him to no end, seeing that same smirk every day as he, and his friends, took pleasure on using him and abusing him endlessly. "You're a-all nothing but useless bastards y-yourselves anyway! T-That's why you're here right? B-Because...you guys are no better than me!"

The last line struck the man hard, and blinded him with rage. "Why you!" The man dove in for another kick, but was sent back flying with an unknown force. "What the?" He was brought up in the air, and harshly slammed back down to the cold, hard, ground. Once again, the air carried him upwards, before smashing his head repeatedly into the ceiling, drawing out blood each time it was done. The man was having a terrible concussion, but was continued to be hit against the ceiling even harder. He had no time to shout or ask for help, as he heard a distinct crack from his head and neck. Slowly, his knees began to twist themselves into a weird angle, and so did his arms. The pain was getting unbearable. It was hell.

Suddenly, it stopped.

He was still for a while, before the pain came back tenfold. He can feel his joints and bones, which have been dislocated as they twisted, go back into place slowly and forcefully. The cracked parts of his skull, and his neck, began repairing themselves, and so did the damaged skin on his scalp. He screamed in agony and fear, tears prickling at his eyes which he closed. Opening them a bit, his vision was blurry, but he was able to recoginize one thing in the dimly-lit room

The boy.

"I...made a mistake...eraser..." In the boy's mind, a drawing was being drawn by itself. There, on the big white paper, was a sketch of the man. A boyish sketch of a stick man, to be exact. Around the man were eraser shavings, red was clearly seen in them. The boy looked into the distance, as if in a trance. The man paid no mind to the amber hues turning into a bright orange, staring into space still. The drawing needed to be perfect! A child was, at heart, a perfectionist. Children erased a lot, crumpled a lot papers, and make mistakes. But sometimes, enough is enough. "I...can't make it perfect." He mumbled sadly to himself, eyes looking down at the chains on his ankles.

This was a disgusting work. It was, in his opinion, so ugly. He's made too much erasures, and that won't do. He needs to be awesome!

Ah-he spotted a shine from the side, before looking back up at the man. "I guess I'll just have to throw you out then. But first..." The knife slowly floated into the air, and stopped once it was in front of the man. He sighed. "I need to do this." The knife multiplied itself into a few more pieces, all pointing at the man similar to a dart board. "I'll need to cut you up!"

The lone oil lamp was blown away, leaving the room engulfed in darkness. Screams filled the room, and so did the sounds of bones cracking and clothes ripping. Only one source of light was left, and that was the little boy's eyes. Those eyes that assessed what was going on-assessed his drawing. In the midst of the shouting, he mumbled to himself something. Something that was fairly normal indeed, but in his current situation, was disturbing. It wasn't normal for him...or for anyone.

"It worked after all."

After this, he lost consciousness, and fell into a deep slumber, calmed by the darkness.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Silence.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Enter."

"Lucia-."

"Please, Reborn. Luce."

The man, Reborn, stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him. The room was dark, and the windows were closed along with the curtains; the only light came from the fire place, where a pregnant woman, Luce, sat by. Her back was facing against him, azure eyes focused on the small, child's necklace as she held it between her fingers. "Luce-"

"Reborn." Luce interrupted him once more. "I know what you're here for. Do just leave it for another day. I am in no mood to give you a mission."

Reborn frowned. "And why not? Is it because of her death? Luce, you can't just stay like this forever. You're our leader; When the sky breaks, we all fall down." He said. "It is hard to bear with it, but come on, you need to get back into shape. What would you do if you were attacked in your current state?!"

Silence reigned between them. It was a while before Luce spoke once more. "I'll gladly surrender my life." Luce's eyes glowed a dull light as she turned her head to face him. Reborn stayed silent, knowing what she meant. "I have no more reason to live. My daughter is gone. I just can't anymore."

"...I don't ever recall you being this way, Luce." Reborn whispered. "Have you finally fell this low? Have you grown that soft?"

Luce chuckled dryly, before turned into a loud, harsh, laugh. "This is the problem with you Reborn; You're too engrossed with your life. We're mafiosi, dear, but we're human too. Kill me then, if I've grown soft, as you say. But you know what Reborn, not being soft, not being human..." The glow shifted into a determined one, but sadness still remained in her eyes. "Will be your ultimate downfall."

A growl was heard from the man. This was not the woman whom he had served for so long. This was a stranger. Unknown. "Tch." Reborn clicked his tongue, before turning around, going out, and shutting the door behind him.

The pregnant woman stared at the door, before looking back at the necklace in her hands. It was made out of a silver chain for boyren, and the pendant was a pink heart. It was small enough to be a bracelet for her, but for her child, it was only for her neck. The glow disappeared, and tears began to form from the corner of her eyes. Bring the necklace to her lips, she closed her eyes and whispered, "Arianna..."

It was okay, for her, to be left alone. To be judged. Hated. But...this necklace...that child...She meant more than those.

"Tsuna, you've outdone yourself this time." A green-haired boy mumbled as he bandaged the brunet's eye. "Going that far to try the effects of an experiment on someone else huh? I'm not sure if you're being a genius by doing that stupid experiment, an all-out idiot, or both." The voice was blank and bored, but the brunet knew he was worried. His eyes, those dulled emerald hues that were usually void, were soft and gentle as they examined his injured eye. "I've been gone for a week, and this is what happens. Nice one, Tunafish. Nice."

The brunet, Tsuna, nodded shyly. "I'm sorry, Fran. But thanks for this." He said, looking up at the older male and smiling softly at him. Fran pat the make-shift bandage he made, and nodded. Tsuna stood back up, and helped the green-haired boy to do the same. They dusted themselves off, and looked at their surroundings. The man was gone, and nothing was going on. No one would be a replacement for him soon, as the officials of the place are gone for a while; A good thing for the duo.

It was quiet. Eerily quiet in the dark. However, the two felt comfortable, more comfortable than they ever have been. These moments were rare between them, these quiet and peaceful moments in this...hell. It gave them a moment to collect their thoughts, to breathe easily and normally, and just be at rest. Once the replacement comes...these would all disappear. There would be beatings again, experiments...harsh words...abuse. Hell.

That's all this place ever was really: Hell.

"Hey, Fran." The green haired boy twitched in acknowledgment. "How was it there-with the other doctors I mean? Were they nicer there, or worse?" Tsuna asked, worry lacing his voice. "Are...are you still Fran?"

Fran shrugged. "It was...the same." He mumbled. "Less beatings though. Just more experiments-they call it "showing off"-in front of other scientists. It was like some kind of freak show, you know. Like, I was a sacrifice to a bunch of fairies." He deadpanned. A chuckle was heard from Tsuna. Funny how in their situation right now, Fran, the ever blunt and stoic one, can still crack an unintentional joke. "Good thing you weren't there. I don't think I'd like the view of my friend being a sacrifice for fairies. Ew."

"Eh!" Tsuna squeaked at this. "I-I won't be a sacrifice! T-That's why I'm practicing my techniques, Fran. I'm gonna be as strong as you, or even stronger, so I can break us out of here!" The brunet declared to him, a determined shine in his lone eye. Bringing up a hand to him, he folded his fingers and showed only his pink. "L-Let's pinky promise on it."

The other boy remained blank on that. Nonetheless, he walked towards him, and showed his pinky too. "Well, Tunafish, what would we promise on then?" He sighed at the clueless look his friend had. "Hey, a promise works both sides. It can't be you're gonna get us out, since that's one-sided. It needs to be two-sided."

Fran had a point, Tsuna supposed. He pondered on about it for a while, before brightening up with an idea. "What about this: Let's promise that...um...we'll be strong to get each other out one day and uh, that we'll be together forever?"

Silence took over them again. Something sounded wrong with it-terribly wrong. Fran could sense it already...he knew this had great risks. He could see it now: the visions of bloodshed and pain, tears mixing into everything and them being alone in the middle of ruins. Them being...one alive, one not. He understood. But...he wanted to take his chances. He could change that. Meeting this little kid right here brought in some hope, and he trusts that hope. With his life.

Fran locked his finger with his. "Hold onto that now."

Tsuna nodded gleefully. "Y-Yes!"