Why do I do this to myself? I feel kind of like a murderer now...
Then again, I don't think dying peacefully in his sleep would suit Xanxus at all.
It was the kind of event that deserved more dramatic weather, Banshee the Varia Assassin thought numbly. Rain, despite being traditional and cruelly ironic, didn't seem enough. An approaching hurricane, a distantly erupting volcano, or gale-force winds would have been more appropriate.
A slightly overcast day with a hint of sunshine wasn't magnificent enough, not even close.
Banshee perched on the roof of one of the DIA cars that had circled the area, several having been torched in an explosive manner, charred smell drifting across the bloody battlefield.
"Stay out of this," he had said. "You are the hope at the bottom of this Pandora's Box. I've already lost much, I can't lose you too, chi strilla."
She had seen the look in his eyes; the eyes of a man who was being held back from running into Death's embrace only by a thread. One thing away from becoming a deathseeker. And that bullet was it.
He was old, and his bones ached, but he couldn't rest, not yet. The insanity that oozed at the back of his mind like an oil slick, he lit with a match to feed to the boiling under his skin; he could only afford to fall to pieces after this was over.
But still, there was an odd numbness creeping through his veins as he stared up at the five bedraggled corpses affixed onto wooden boards like beetles in a collection. Before he arrived, they had been covered by sheets. Then the little fucker had goddam paraded them in front of him. At least they wouldn't have to look for his other Guardians to have them properly buried. It stung though, that the marks of torture had just been left to fester. Oh God, Luss would bitch about that.
If he was still alive, of course.
Which he wasn't.
Hence the bitching.
And now he was complaining in circles again. Fucking typical. Fuck, being old was a right pain in the everywhere.
"Boss," Squalo murmured through gritted teeth, where he stood at Xanxus' right. He had his real hand pressed to a gash in his hip, and his sword had shattered, leaving him with only two-thirds of its original length.
It was funny; only now did he really notice the deep lines around his Rain's eyes, the slight hunch to his shoulders, the sag in the skin of his throat.
"When did we get so old?" Is Xanxus' quiet mutter, and his Guardian, his friend, his Right Hand, his knight, his brother of the soul, merely snorts and rolls his eyes.
"It snuck up on us Boss. I swear, once you hit fifty, a new bit of your body fails every morning. I have aches in places I didn't even know I had."
A smile quirked at the corner of Xanxus' mouth, before he quickly turned serious again. "The little fucker's being a drama queen, he's waiting for us to charge him."
"Is he trying to goad Banshee? Does he know?"
"Dumbass, of course he doesn't know about her. And she knows better than to charge into crossfire; the others won't let her and we trained them all better than that." Xanxus closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. His shoulders straightened, his muscles tightened and his eyes blazed with Will, even the empty socket that had once held his right eye.
"One last hurrah, right shitty Boss?"
"Yeah, shitty Shark. Time we leave the game to the next generation. But we'd better clear the way for them before we go."
"Into hell Bo-" There was the soft, distant report of a sniper as a jerking shudder ran through Squalo's body. Xanxus felt the sharp tug on his soul as Squalo teetered forward into his arms, the sudden weight making him fall to his knees.
"Impatient little fucker," Squalo rasped. "Sorry Boss. Guess this is where I stop." Trembling, his gloved hand reached to feel the lack of exit hole; Fragmenting Needle bullet spinning into his heart, shedding metal shrapnel... "You go on ahead...I'll stay back here...unnh...watch your back."
"Don't leave." Xanxus' voice was plaintive, almost childish. "Stupid fucking trash, you promised! You said we'd finish this together!"
Xanxus couldn't really tell whether he was shouting or whispering; the rest of the world was fuzzy and out of focus as the unravelling Guardian Bond, his last Guardian Bond, began to tear and eat away at his soul, his very being and sense of self. The madness rushed to fill the void, catching the flame and feeding his core that was, ever so steadily, heading towards implosion. For without Will to Live, there was nothing holding it back. There was only the Will to Burn.
"See you...on the other...side...Xan," Squalo whispered, his breathing growing even more laboured until it suddenly eased, dark eyes glazing over and reluctant smile fading as muscles lost tension.
There was a snap that felt audible, but wasn't, inside of Xanxus.
Why? Why had he thought this would end any differently? This was their last fight, they'd sworn each other so. And these things happened on battlefields. So why...was he crying? Just like the Shark to get one over on him right at the end; he was probably gloating about it right now. Stupid, dumb, fucking...this was all wrong.
Why wasn't the sky splitting or the earth shattering, because that's what losing Squalo deserved. Why wasn't everyone else screaming in pain and loss as his spark flickered out? Why did he have to feel this void alone? Why did he have to fall apart, piece by fucking piece, and then have the one person that had kept him from shattering all through that agony suddenly be ripped from him!
Because it was all the little fucker's fault. Him. The one everyone had once called Don Vongola Dodicesimo.
All gone now, he burned them all, Vongola fell to the rot in his head...
Tsuna's grandson.
He'd be so ashamed, Tsuna's most likely crying now, you slaughtered and corrupted the descendants of his Guardians who he treated like his own and you twisted everything he and Primo wanted.
'For even dragons have their endings.'
Yes.
It was time to end this. To end. Maybe this ending wasn't what he...they had planned, but he'd make fucking sure that it counted and was fucking magnificent.
Lowering Squalo my rain, my requiem down gently, Xanxus reached for the end of the long braid his Rain had kept his hair in kept your oath, always did and slipped the hair-tie off. His calloused fingers quickly combed it out straight. He hesitated for a second, before leaving the eyes open watch my back one last time and stood.
Not like an old man would stand, with heavy movements and aching joints. His Flames seethed beneath his skin, flooding him with power and the Will to Burn. His skin began to crack and flake in some places, glowing like his veins were channeling magma. Stiff joints popped and cracked back into place, the heat shimmer clearly very real as the tarmac began to hiss and bubble beneath his boots.
It was like a centuries-old dragon finally awakening, with all the grace of experience and beauty of death and fire like the breath of oblivion.
As Xanxus turned his head, Wrath Flames burst from his empty eye socket and streamed into the air like the inferno of a furnace chimney. The little fucker flinched. But not because there was hatred in that remaining red eye. Because the look in that eye was of utter exhaustion. Maybe the Hyper Intuition warned him that this, this is a man who has nothing left to lose, who runs towards Death, who is beyond pain and emotion, who has a mission and will never stop until his target is ashes in the wind. It was not quite Hyper Dying Will Mode; it's far more raw and primal, for Xanxus' soul was so broken and tattered with grief and loneliness that it would be far more accurate to call this Living Vengeance Mode.
Maybe the Hyper Intuition warned him that this was his end.
For at his order, the sniper fired again. The bullet pattered to the ground in front of Xanxus as a droplet of molten slag. A hair-thin line of reddish orange shimmered briefly in the air, before the sniper's face atomized into a pink mist and the glow faded from Xanxus' fingers.
The little fucker's two Guardians only two because the others are dead, and they're all just as empty inside as you attacked, or at least, tried. The Storm, although fast fast enough to take down most of the Varia Suns, Luss was fucking devastated at losing them wasn't fast enough in this battle, allowing Xanxus to get a handhold. Feet kicking weakly a few inches off of the ground, the man convulsed in excruciating agony as the liquefied flesh of his face seeped underneath the collar of his shirt and between Xanxus' fingers. The corpse was unceremoniously tossed aside, incinerated with a gout of Flame before it hit the ground.
The Lightning wailed in anger as she tried to attack him from above, hoping to get a fatal blow to his head or neck. All he had to do was look up at her descending form and breathe. An eruption of Wrath Flames blazed and arched like a solar flare; a fiery breath worthy of any true dragon of myth and legend. All that was visible of her was a ragged black silhouette for half-a-second, before there was only a greasy swirl of ash on the wind. Cinders drifted down, sparking as they came within Xanxus' shimmer of heat and orbiting around his slowly approaching form like dying stars as leftover blinks of fire danced around his lips.
With his senses, Xanxus reached out with his Harmony, why do they always forget he's a Sky and that he's never lacked in Will Willing his Flames to bypass unnoticed and twine themselves around the little fucker's Flames, one particular part. Before he sent his Wrath surging down the connection and Burning the little fucker's Flames from a purely metaphysical angle. That was the Hyper Intuition taken care of. Oh, the screams were sweet. Bel would definitely appreciate.
He could have easily hooked the connection into a vital neurological function and burned that, but this was slower. More painful. Deserved. Strip the little fucker of everything he had, even the gifts of his heritage. Why should he have the perks if he just threw away the responsibilities? They put their trust in you to lead them and you laughed as you lit the match.
A giggled wormed its way out of his mouth as he watched the useless lump of flesh that had broken so much writhe on the ground in pain. Mammon would certainly be filming this if they were here, a lot of people would appreciate it as a form of revenge.
Oh. It seemed he had gone a bit overboard with the burning-thing; he hadn't meant to cause severe muscle spasms like that, honest. Oh well.
And Xanxus' disgust just grew as the worm begged for his life. Really, if he was going to destroy everything the Alliance was about, then he should at least fight for it at the very end. Why had he even bothered fantasizing about all the creative ways to kill this mewling pustule; it didn't deserve the effort. But the temptation was just too great to pass up...Really? You're really going to do this? He isn't worth the time.
Great, now his conscience sounded like Tsuna. Good point though.
With that snap decision, the tarmac lit up into a soaring inferno; a column of fire reaching up to the sky, scorching the clouds dry and connecting heaven and earth. Air was drawn in by the immense heat, pulling small pieces of debris with it that combusted once they made contact with the radiating corona of light. The sky above began to darken and flicker into an electrical storm, the air at ground level gaining a heavy weight and a static tingle.
And at the foot of this Hell's Mouth was silhouetted a comparatively tiny figure that stood solid against the raging beast he had created; like the conductor of some eldritch orchestra, holding the attention with his own raging Flame that had birthed this monstrosity.
For nothing is more terrifying than a dragon that has been stolen from.
Until, with a wave of his hand, the blaze cut off as abruptly as it had sprung to life, snuffed out in a split second. There was an eerie silence, the only sound the faint rustle of the wind, until all those Assassins hidden away began cheering ecstatically. Only a few remained silent and numb, knowing that it wasn't over, that this was not the true ending.
Banshee hopped down from her vantage point and slowly wove her way across the battlefield, a few others falling in behind her. Her heart wrenched as she passed by the lifeless eyes of Squalo, Akhlut muffling a small sob as he saw the body of his old teacher up close. At her nod, both he and the others rushed to the wooden boards in the distance, and took down the five affixed bodies as gently as they could. Onibi the Mist conjured white sheets to wrap them in and hide the ugly gaping wounds.
Banshee, meanwhile, ventured over to Xanxus, where he stood at the edge of the shallow crater he had made. His skin still glowed with Flames underneath his charred and peeling skin, particularly over the old, old Zero Point scars. But, he didn't even turn to look in her direction, until; "Papa?"
The familiar form of address was enough to pull him from his daze and look at her, eyes wide and lost. "Strilla?" He murmured, and she leapt forward and embraced him in a hug. But he didn't return it, didn't lightly pull her hair, didn't boost his muscles with his Flames to pick her up and swing her around in spite of his advancing years. "Papa?"
Her Hyper Intuition pinged and her stomach filled with dread. "No, no, no, you can't go now. I'm not ready, you can't!"
"Miriam Filippa Renata Vongola," he whispered her true name. "Vongola Tredicesima."
As he spoke, he reached up and took hold of one of her hands, slipping a heavy ring onto her finger. She looked down and, through her welling tears, saw the glimmer of rainbow gems. "The...the Sky Ring? How...?"
"Mammon swiped it...that's how they got caught. They wanted to give me an edge. Bloody miser, first ever time they did something for free."
A hysterical giggle escaped from her lips, which soon dissolved into full-blown sobs and she wailed into his chest for everything that had been lost and was still slipping away. Her six Guardians crowded around her, sharing their mourning. "You have to stay! Please! Papa, you can't! I can't do this on my own!"
"Brats, I expect you to look after her and not take any shit from anyone," he addressed the six young assassins surrounding them. "You're all Varia Quality and you stay that way, understand?" They nodded and mumbled assent
"Miriam," he said softly, prying her from his chest with a tenderness that one who knew him would never have expected to ever see. "Your parents and grandfather gave you to me, before they died, when you were just a baby and told me to raise you like my own, to hide you so that your cousin wouldn't find you. Well, he's dead now. It's finally over. You don't have to hide anymore; it's time to stand up and be who you are. I can't do this for you. I'm old. I'm tired. And I don't have long left anyway."
By this point, the celebrations around them had lulled into an easy murmur, so the abrupt crunch of gravel as Xanxus fell to his knees was deafening. All eyes turned as one in dawning horror. All the Varia with medical expertise dashed towards the small group, only to be stopped by a wall of unfamiliar Sky Flames.
Banshee stood tall, beyond the Flames, a legendary ring glinting on her finger and tears streaming down her cheeks. "There's nothing to be done," she announced hollowly. "He wants this." Her gaze swept over the six white-wrapped figures laying on the ground, and they understood.
The Sky Flames snuffed out, and they got a good look at the former Varia Boss struggling to get to his feet. Banshee helped him up, along with her Guardians, but once he was up, he shook them off.
Each step he took was agony, as his Flames inside of him splintered and boiled like a dying star. The warmth in his limbs was fading, and all the aches and pains of old age were coming back in full force. The insanity that had fuelled his rage was still there, but now it was a hazy cold, oozing through his brain. But finally...
Squalo, Bel, Luss, all of them. They were finally together again. Just how it should be. The ground beneath his back was fucking uncomfortable, but that didn't matter. He couldn't feel it now anyway.
His baby girl was all grown up. Because she was his, even if they didn't share blood. And he did a better job of raising her than Nono did him. She'd be alright.
He'd better get on with dying now, hadn't he? This empty feeling inside, where his Guardian Bonds had been, hurt like a sonofabitch.
The shitty shark better be waiting for him, like he promised...
"Voooooiiiii! Boss, what took you so long?"
"Mu. I sincerely hope you took advantage of my sacrifice."
"Shishishishishi...watching the filth wriggle like the worm he was pleased the Prince very much Boss."
"Waaaaa...Booooossssss! You were so cool!"
"Good to have you back with us Boss."
"Boss-honey, did you see the mess he made of me?! It was awful! My good looks, absolutely ruined! Ruined!"
...
"Guys? Xanxus, everyone else is over this way. Don't look at me like that, that's weird. Are...are you crying?! Wait...I know you still have your X-guns here, but that's no reason to- HIIIIIEEEE!"
AN: Well, there's my take on a FutureGen. As well as a Deathfic. I may extend to a twoshot(focusing on the aftermath) if this gets enough interest/requests.
Yes, Banshee/Miriam's middle names are for the Cavallone Family and Reborn. Xanxus' nickname for her is strilla(screamer) because she was such a fierce toddler.
He named her Banshee, not for her childhood nickname, but because banshees(Ban Sidhe) were female spirits who were tied to a specific house or Family Line, and screamed as an omen of a coming death in the household. The scream itself would sometimes cause people to drop dead. Sometimes, they would take revenge on behalf of a murdered family member. Xanxus thought it morbidly appropriate.
.
Here's the backstory by the way. As a Lore-thing, because I haven't written this dark AU, and never will.
The reign of Vongola Dodicesimo was the darkest in Vongola's long and bloody history, nearly wiping out the entire Alliance altogether.
He was born to future Vongola Undicesimo, Iemon 'Iacomo' Vongola. At this time, of his grandson's birth, former Decimo Tsunayoshi Sawada-Vongola began experiencing seizures of Hyper Intuition that caused everyone much anxiety and distress. He secluded himself in conference with Former Sky Arcobaleno Yuni Giglio Nero, Mare Sky Byakuran, Kawahira and Bermuda von Veckenschtein of the Vindice.
When Miriam Vongola was born to Decimo's daughter three years later, she and her parents were tragically killed in an assassination attempt. All three were mourned greatly. After this, Tsunayoshi Sawada's health began to decline, as did that of his Guardians. They died together, in peace.
Vongola Dodicesimo was inaugurated at the age of twenty-two. Barely a year later, his father the Undicesimo died in mysterious circumstances along with his wife. With no family to hold him back, the Alliance began to be systematically obliterated. He later broadcasted a speech, stating that he had been the one to murder his own family, including the Decimo and his Guardians. The information lowered morale considerably.
The Varia severed itself from the Vongola and evacuated all the ones they could, before the Vindice, Kawahira and Bykuran closed off the country of Italy in a force-field, safeguarding the refugees from being pursued.
The response was to hunt down and kill the remaining Former Arcobaleno, the Dodicesimo amplifying his Sky Flames to brainwash the Civilians of Italy into compliance and becoming his own personal army. During this time, Bellator the Varia Head was killed, his body mutilated in a gruesome fashion as a warning.
At this, the retired Varia Head Xanxus and his Guardians, took charge over the scattered Varia and began guerrilla warfare against the Dodicesimo. Three years after the start of The Slaughter, the Varia destroyed the Flame array brainwashing the Civilians at the cost of Xanxus' Cloud, Lightning and Mist Guardians. The Storm and Sun Guardians were also captured at a later date.
All were brutally tortured to death, their mangled bodies displayed at the site which would be that of the final battle. Xanxus faced the Dodicesimo and his Guardians with only his own Rain Guardian, Squalo Superbi, at his side.
Just as the two Varia were about to launch their final counteroffensive, Squalo was shot in the heart by a sniper, the Dodicesimo attempting to goad Xanxus into becoming predictable in his anger.
However, with all his Guardians dead, and the remains of the Varia to protect, Xanxus' infamous Wrath Flames overpowered everything that was thrown at him, before he called up a localized firestorm to incinerate the Dodicesimo. He then began to slowly die, having no Will to Live to fuel his Flames.
Before he died though, he revealed that Miriam Vongola was alive and present on the battlefield sidelines as Varia Assassin Banshee. The baby that had died in the assassination attempt had been a fake. The Decimo had foreseen what would happen and had planned with his daughter to hide the infant Miriam Vongola and have her raised in secret.
She was given to Xanxus to raise as his own, and to train for the position of Vongola Tredicesima.
With his dying breath, Xanxus bequeathed her the Vongola Sky Ring that his Mist had sacrificed themselves to steal, and lay down beside the retrieved corpses of his Guardians.
And so, on 30th October 2064, at age 76, Xanxus di Varia, The Wrath, Dragon of the Alliance, passed away.
Excerpt from Modern History of the Vongola Alliance, from the Mafia Academy Library.