Author's Note: Hey everyone! Well I attempted a Chrollo oneshot. I tried desperately to capture Chrollo's character correctly. I wrote this a while back and I stumbled across it while going through my old journals and thought I should share. I don't own anyone from hxh! I hope you guys enjoy it and please review!


Make it stop.

This pain.

It hurts.

Just let me fade away

I have nothing.

Nothing to cherish.

Nothing to live for.

Not a word escaped her. Not a scream or a shriek. Not a sound. The surroundings; the corner of the hotel room her father had shoved her into was far from comfortable. Comfortable? The father of the girl could care less whether she was comfortable or not.

The carpeted floor beneath her broken body was stained with the blood that escaped her wounds.

"I told you to say it!" a man of forty practically yelled. Anger mixed with panic controlled his actions. Anger because his daughter defied him, panic because he was running out of time.

They were like empty orbs. Nothing. No tears. No pain. Not even hate. Though she was breathing, anyone could tell that she' died a long time ago. She stared up at the heaving man with her lifeless eyes as he let out a yell of frustration. Next thing she knew he had grabbed her hair and bashed the back of her head against the wall.

It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It had passed the line of painful a while back. This was now agonizing. The girl slumped to the floor. Limp. Still not an utter word escaping her pale lips. Warm blood made its way down the back of her neck. No doubt the wall behind her was painted with blood.

"Say It!"

He kicked his daughter. Again and again; hard and relentlessly. With each kick he placed to her torso, the sound of her insides shattering would greet his ears. Her skin began changing colors from white to purple blue.

"SAY IT, SAY IT, SAY IT!" it wasn't just yelling anymore, "YOU LITTLE BITCH! SAY IT AND I'LL STOP!" he knelt down beside her and roughly grabbed a wad of her hair in a tight fist forcing her to look at him. The girl didn't so much as wince at being manhandled. But no matter how much everyone thought she was a monster, she was still human in the end, and she felt every blow her father gave her. Pain. Pain. And pain.

So this was how she was going to die? In the hands of a greedy business man, just because she chose to not say a man's name.

"Come on hunny. I've shown you his picture. You now his blood type. Just say you want him dead and I'll get you anything you want!" he spoke frantically, his words a jumbled mess, "Just Say it!"

It was difficult, to catch what he was saying, seeing how she was falling in and out of consciousness, she couldn't allow herself to submit to the blackness yet. She had to reply. She wanted one thing.

"If only…I can kill for myself," she coughed weakly. Her soft voice, broken, "I do not want to kill anymore. Not for you….not for any other like you."

If death was her savior from this, she waited eagerly for him to arrive. Death, he would surely save her from this living hell.

She felt weightless. A feather in the air. Breathing was becoming difficult. Taking in a breath seemed impossible. When did her father wrap his hands around her neck?

She didn't struggle.

Then there was a scream. What as going on? Everything was happening to fast. Her damaged body, she couldn't understand what was taking place. She couldn't even see anymore. She felt her body hit he floor with a thud and she let out a gasp of air.

That was it. It was like her body had finally understood that it couldn't go on. Blackness crawled over her consciousness as she tried to let her eyes catch sight of something, someone.

So that was how death looked like. She wanted to smile at the man in black.

She felt herself fade. Her savior had finally come.


"What're we going to do with her now?"

"We wait until she wakes up."

"But then what?"

Voices. They were everywhere. Was she dead? If so why did her body still felt so weak? The agonizing throbbing in her ribs and back of her head had disappeared but the pain of being kicked all over was still there.

"Hey look, she's moving, looks like she's finally waking up!" a man's voice echoed out.

Everyone hushed. Waited.

Her eyelids were heavy, they proved a challenge to open. But then again why open them? Wouldn't it have been better to have just stayed in eternal sleep?

A flash of the man in black appeared.

Again she tried, this time for a reason. To see the man who had saved her.

The first thing that came to view was the dark gloomy ceiling of a warehouse. Dust and spider webs netted the bars and broken lights. Rags hung from the chains that were once important. Ignoring the pain of movement she struggled to sit up.

She didn't flinch at the group of people that sat around her on the old crates. Two, four, nine, about eleven maybe more she couldn't see. All eyes on her.

"She still looks like a mess Machi!" a man dressed in a dark blue sweatshirt and pair of jeans. A sheathed katana strapped around his waist. He had an Asian looking face, long silky hair tied back in a low pony tail. He stood by a wolverine looking man who was smirking smugly at particularly nothing.

The woman referred to as Machi stood with her arms folded against her chest. She had thick blue messy air tied back and amber cat like eyes. A pretty woman.

"I can't fix bruises Nobunaga," her words simple, sharp, dangerous.

The girl stared blankly out at them. Slowly scanning the faces, scanning them. Three sat close together holding a couple of cards. A huge man that resembled Frankenstein, and two teenagers-a girl with glasses and a boy with an innocent looking face. Two more questionable characters stood off the side, none which were the man she was looking for.

"Leave."

In a blink of an eye everyone disappeared, leaving her behind with a man dressed in a suit. His bangs brushed over his forehead, his eyes were a dark gray, almost black color. They showed fake kindness toward her. They twinkled the same way her's did when she put up an act for others.

He gave her a polite smile and extended a hand to help her up.

"Are you alright?"

She did not respond. She did not move. She hardly even breathed. His smile sparked something inside her. It made her feel a bit of warmth. He was letting on the impression that he cared about her. Her eyes widened for a split second as something dawned to her.

He was the one who had saved her.

Her savior.

Death.

Slowly she took his hand with her own and got to her feet. It hurt, but she made no sign of struggle.

The dress that draped her boney frame was drenched with blood. The strap that her father had pulled was torn revealing the many bruises she had on her upper chest.

"Pakku and Shizuku went and got you some change of clothing for you," he spoke kindly, "why don't you change and I'll take you out for something to eat."


The restaurant was filled with women and men of high class. Even the employees that scurried around with trays of food and bills came off as important people. Soft music played in the back ground and every person talked in a low voice keeping to themselves.

She sat quietly across from him. Both hands were in her lap and her back was vertical with the seat. She was dressed in somewhat short black turtle neck dress with sleeves that hid her many imperfections. Her legs were hidden with black tights. The make up hid the most of the marks on her face and despite the bandages on her left cheek she still resembled a porcine doll.

"Wine for both of us, thank you," the man spoke to the waiter.

She glanced up from her lap to the smiling man. Who was he? Why did he save her? And why oh why was he treating her to dinner?

"I wanted to thank you for not saying my name."

"I am Chrollo Lucifer."

Her eyes widened. This was the man her father had been meaning to kill? The man he'd been working with? He didn't seem as greedy as the other business friends she'd come across.

She nodded once and avoided his eyes. "Thank you for saving me."

Another forced smile. His eyes were like black holes that sucked her in. she was lost in them in a matter of seconds. She didn't even question when she'd looked up and got caught. He had already consumed her.

"May I ask what your name is?"

Though he'd asked it as a question, she let the answer roll off her tongue like she'd been given a command.

"Bells Rosworth."

"That's a very pretty name."

Again that warm spark appeared inside her. What was this feeling?


He watched her carefully, whatever little movement she made-he caught it. She was like a statue before him. Her lips moved in a strange way that made the words slip smoothly off them. Easy to read. What remaining life she had was in her voice.

But of course, it was her power.

"Do you want anything to eat? You look hungry."

She only shook her head. The messy curls that fell into place from the messy bun she had moved to her small action. She was just a broken doll. Lifeless, and yet there was that color in her face that gave the illusion of life.

Thus could be far easier than he thought.

"But you look dreadfully thin, your father may have not fed you, but I won't allow you to pass up food. A growing girl needs it."

The waiter returned with their drinks and took their-his order. He kept his charismatic act up despite her lack of interaction. He wanted her power. All he had to do was last through this charade and it would be his.

"This book is very special to me," he handed her the black book that materialized in his hand. It had a red hand print on the cover and hieroglyphics she could not read, "It's what I use to protect those who are important to me."

The book wasn't heavy but she struggled to hold it. Her arms still felt like jello after the beating she'd taken. He watched as she stared down at what he'd given her. Taking note to the sudden gleam in her eyes.

"That power of yours seems really unlucky."

"…"

"Would you give it up if you had the chance?"

She didn't answer. He refrained a look of confusion. Was it possible that she'd caught on?

Of course Bells knew what he was up too. He wanted her power. A gut feeling told her that this was some sort of ritual for it. Why else would someone like him treat her so kindly? Those empty eyes weren't hiding his true intentions from her…and yet she felt a certain kind of panic rise. Was it fear?

Far from it.

"You killed my father," she answered his question with a statement. She glanced up at him with her pale grey eyes and watched his very being.

"I did," he admitted with honesty, avoiding her glance. Chrollo let his finger trace the outline of the wine cup, "I'm afraid his death was in-evitable." There was curiosity that made its way through Chrollo. The girl had spoken up for the first time in the evening. He wondered what went through her mind. What triggered her words.

"Would you take someone's life to save your own?"

"I killed your father didn't I?"

She watched the stranger-the person who was death himself. He had taken the life of her father and was well on his way to take hers as well. Strangely she accepted it. The only problem was that he could not use her power for his own sake.

"Do you have people you would protect?"

Seconds of silence loomed over them. She could tell that he was analyzing every word she'd said. Wondering if he should tell her the truth or create a lie…

"Yes. Doesn't everyone?"

"My power belongs to me alone…" Bells chose her word carefully. She didn't want him to swipe her power away and leave her. If he took them he wouldn't have any reason to stay. He would disappear with taking her breath away.

A fate far worse than dying.

"I will…protect you and the people you want to protect…" her voice didn't waver. Her expression was like a closed book. No one would've guessed that she was afraid of abandonment, "That way…I will have something to protect too." Her last words were whispered. She let her eyes go from the white clothed table back to him. Back to his widened eyes.


The wind blew gently against his face as he watched the young woman take in the world around her. Her long black hair that fell down to her waist fluttered back as the cool summer breeze past them. The golden skies enveloped her grey eyes, making them look on fire. Her pale skin took in the sun's color, making her almost glow a faint orange. Her once small and frail body was dressed in a simple white dress.

He sat there. Torso leaning slightly over as he perched his arms on his thighs and glanced back down at the book he had open in his hands. It was almost time. He closed the book and stood up.

"Ready?"

Bells' attention fell on him and she almost ran to his side. In all the three years she'd spent as a spider he'd never seen her more alive than when she was here in Metro City. A city with no human existence other than a hide out for outcasts and criminals.

'How ironic,' he thought to himself, running a hand through his hair.

"This is the last time we'll be like this…" she spoke quietly before shyly letting her gazer fall on the man she still thought of as death. He kept staring out at the golden skies that enveloped their world. So she felt it too.

"We'll see everyone tomorrow in York Shin."

A slight frown made its way on her doll like face, "I don't…like Hisoka."

That earned her a small smile from the man with the cross on his forehead. Who would've guessed that out of everyone in the world, this girl would become a part of his life?

"You shouldn't worry, he's part of the spider. Isn't my belief in him enough?"

She only nodded. Anything from him was enough for her. Whatever he said, did, or went she would submit with silent admiration.

She was his shadow. He'd let her live in exchange for the use of her power. To become a weapon-the web-that protected the spider as a whole.

"Bells?"

The sound of her name rolling off his tongue so smoothly, so sweetly, made a shiver run down her spine. She took her place beside him and stared over at him like a puppy waiting for her master to speak.

"Are you scared?"

A smile came to her lips, "No."

"And why is that?"

"Because you are here."

He had become her reason.