I kill for pleasure. For the electricity that courses through one's veins when death occurs at their own hands. Adrenaline. It's a simple compound that makes your heart beat faster and your palms grow sweaty. Without it, human would have already been eradicated. It helps us think under pressure, but is also the force that drives us to feel pressured in the first place. But the feeling it brings, the sheer, unadulterated emotion that adrenaline is and represents, multiplies a million times when one causes death.

Though many claim that cleanliness is close to godliness, the closest to godliness one can be is when they kill another. Godliness is not being able to perform miracles, nor is it the ability of foresight or skill beyond belief. It is being in control. It is knowing you can successfully ruin anyone's life with the flick of your wrist. It is controlling the emotions of another person, toying with their aspirations and fears. That is godliness.

Then again, I don't believe in any God. I believe in the Devil, and I believe in Hell. But I do not believe in God. I believe I may be the offspring of a demon, possibly that I am Satan himself. But I do not believe in a force made purely for goodness and kindness, which punishes evil doers and banishes them to a life of pain and misfortune. If i did believe in such nonsense, I would have a set of the strange things known as morals. But I do not. I have only my hands, which I use to create feats of modern technology.

I am Duchessa Di Danimarca, the Duchess of Denmark in a language you can understand. But I have long since run away from that title, much to my only friend's dismay. I live in Italy, working with a reclusive gang of hit men known as the Varia. People refer to me as Il Meccanico, while those who have befriended me call me Meca. I've been shot the same number of years I am old, which makes for fourteen bullet wounds. I've been stabbed the same number of times I've been shot minus ten by a prince named Belphegor who, consequently, happens to be the only person I've ever been able to play nice with. My life has actually been rather good despite me deserting my life as a duchess.

I kill people for money and I get to live with a host of interesting characters. One greedy Arcobaleno who consistently claims I'm stealing his riches, one luscious haired swordsman who forces me to make him coffee at ungodly hours every morning, one amazingly gay man with a mohawk who's shattered my sternum twice for no apparent reason, one constantly electrified man who offers me umbrellas that I really shouldn't accept, one self-proclaimed prince that refers to me as "his toy" every time he talks to me, and one man shaped booze container of a boss. And that had been my life since I was ten years old. I was punched, kicked, drowned, slapped, tripped, set on fire, pushed, body slammed, kneed, run over, stabbed, electrocuted, bitten, sliced, and generally broken in all senses of the word. But life was still good.

And now, at two-forty-seven in the morning, I'm on a plane heading to Japan. Well, less a plane and more an enormous private jet. My hands fiddled with a tin soldier, soft grey eyes scanning its gears slowly, checking each cog for any sign of overuse. I slid a pair of glasses further up the bridge of my nose as I worked. There wasn't anything wrong with my eyes I simply used the slates of glass for magnification. Tiny gears were hard to see without any extra assistance. Superbi Squalo, the man seated rather uncomfortably next to me shifted in his seat. He looked extremely upset about being placed near me on our extremely long plane excursion. Both Squalo and me were making our way to Japan to resolve a very pressing matter. It had been unfortunately discovered that Xanxus was not going to be inheriting the right to rule the Vongola family. This made the Varia extremely unhappy, and everyone knew that when the Varia was unhappy, people started dying.

But, we had found a bit of a loophole. If the Varia, a family already in possession of a set of Vongola half rings, stole the lovely jewelry currently being gifted to Tsunayoshi Sawada and his band of misfits, we would become the rulers of family we rightfully deserved. Thus it had been decided that Squalo would search for the location of the rings in Japan while I performed a reconnaissance mission focused on Tsunayoshi's family. I was to collect vital data about the members of this child's clan and compile a series of reports including individual strengths, weaknesses, siblings, parents, personality, and every other possible attribute that went into creating a human life. And of course the Varia chose the only socially awkward member of the group to complete this task.

Unfortunately for our family, I am the most helpless person when it comes to establishing relationships. For some reason, I always end up being accused of Satanism, no matter what school I go to or how normal I try to act. And, once you're labeled as a heathen, people tend to lose interest in being your friend. I'm not sure why Xanxus thought it was a reputable idea to send me instead of some lower ranking spy, but I won't question his ways.

"Can I braid your hair?" I bleated, not realizing what had been said before the words left my mouth. It was a perfect example of my tattered social skills, but I simply couldn't resist. Squalo's gorgeous, grey locks would look so wondrous in one long braid it made my heart skip a beat. I could completely forget the fact that I hated him if he allowed me to braid his beauteous hair. But no matter how tender his mane would look after being styled, I didn't have the right to touch it without his permission. I had a tendency to toy with my hands when I became nervous, and nothing could make me more squeamish than the thought of failing a mission. The tin soldier no longer satisfied my enormous appetite for stimulation.

"No." Squalo's voice had a sleek edge to it, sharper than the blade of his prized sword. I withdrew my advances as fast as humanly possible to avoid being killed. The fear that he was going to stab me for misbehaving stemmed solely from Belphegor's past behavior. I didn't find nearly being killed a reasonable punishment for not cleaning the boy's room in a maid's outfit. He had trained me to be consistently apprehensive around sharp objects. I glared at Squalo's hair intensely, moving my fingers as I day dreamed about braiding his undoubtedly silky hair. The glance he gave me was so horrifying I resumed toying with my tin child. I smiled at the tiny man's face, glad it wouldn't ever act the way other children did. At Namimori, I would try my very hardest not to make a fool of myself. I was sure I could succeed.

Yet, as that moment crept closer, I couldn't help but lose hope.

Welcome to the first rewritten chapter people! I didn't change too much, but I fixed a lot of grammatical errors and spelling mishaps. Thanks for the great response to the idea of a rewrite! I took down the other chapters before posting this so no one gets confused! I hope you guys will keep on reading. Don't forget to review, mooncalves! Thanks for reading~

~DNS