"It's been a while since I flipped my switch ..."
"Stuck in that house all day, I spent all my time learning how to kill. You're my first friend, Gon."
"Sorry, but I'm not a normal person."
"I spent all my time training as an assassin. And after I quit, I've been with you, and..." I really don't want that to change.
"If you so much as touch them, I'll kill you."
"People only find me interesting because they can't ever tell whether I'm serious or not..."
"I am an assassin. I've killed more people than these guys. Each player in this game risks their life in one way or another. That doesn't make it okay to kill others. But all the people I've killed were not nearly as prepared to die. I'm worse than these guys."
"Not killing people is really hard. Clean living is tough."
"The letters I've written before are all blackmail to people. I'm not sure if I know how to write a real letter."
"If you want, I can kill him for you. You've never killed anybody, have you? You're scared?"
"If an assassin is hired to kill someone, there's a good chance that person did something to deserve it."
"Who wants to have their life planned out for them?"
"I'm going to pick my own future."
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"Assassination— It's the family trade. We all take it up. My folks see me as an
exceptional prospect . But I don't see that I have to live up to their expectations ."
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- "You have made a fatal error. Game Over. Play Again?" -
Gon's voice was giddy when he leapt to his feet and exclaimed, "I win! Sucks to suck!"
Killua, on the other hand, was not doing so hot.
He continued to feel that nudging at the base of his skull that'd been bothering him for a few hours now, and suddenly he begin to panic as his body and will engaged in battle. His head thunked audibly against the hard wood of the coffee table, the controller slipping from his grasp to drop quietly onto the carpet. Killua tried to inhale, but instantaneously he came to the realization that He. Couldn't. Breathe.
... Oh crap.
"Huh. Overdramatic much?" he heard Gon's voice utter, but the teasing tone sounded as if it was filtering through water into his ears. "Just quit askin' for rematches an' you'll stop gettin' your rear end handed to ya."
Killua's lips trembled, shoulders starting to shake as his ribcage creaked in an effort to draw in oxygen. Oh God. Oh God, oh God, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe.
What's going on? Why now? This doesn't... this doesn't make any sense!
His vision was already starting to go hazy, and he knew he only had a few more seconds to do anything before he completely lost control. His jaw clenched on its own in an effort to maintain his composure, and he managed to twitch the fingers in his left hand a few centimeters out to tap lightly on the table.
Eyes. Gotta keep my eyes shut. Darkness is solace, darkness is solace, darkness is solace.
Killua needed Gon to get away from him.
There was no air to hiss, "Run! Take a hike if you wanna live!" so instead he tapped the wood, slowly, methodically, trying not to elevate his heart-rate any further. One. Two. Three. A slow slide to the left. A fist.
"Run."
It wasn't Morse code – some people weren't so good at numbers and remembering dots versus dashes – but it was in the same wheelhouse. A silent code, just for the two of them, for some reason as intuitive and comprehensive as telepathy. Years of traveling with someone really set you on the same wavelength – almost literally in their case.
But Gon hadn't responded yet, so he likely wasn't paying attention. Tch, typical. Gloating, basking in his glory, doing his stupid happy dance. Air-headed, broccoli-brained, over-trusting son-of-a—
"You okay? Killua?"
Thank God.
Killua was on the brink at this point, since even he could only go without air for so long in good conditions – and the prodding and trembling in the recesses of his brain were far from "good conditions" – and as he repeated the signal for retreat, his hand became so weak it could only form a half-fist. Still, the doofus got the message. And for a second, Killua was relieved.
Until he heard Gon's stupid, idiotically-cheerful voice reply with only mild alarm, "Run from what? C'mon, if there's a threat you need to run too!"
Crud, I should have seen this coming.
Gon didn't run. He never did anything Killua told him to when they faced huge threats on a regular basis, so why the heck would he listen now? The-the imbecile, the-that-h-h-he grabs my shoulder, trying to haul me to my feet.
The physical contact did Killua in. No, nononono, no, no, please no!
He involuntarily groaned as his resolve crumpled, his vision pitched into the next dimension, and his ears went deaf. Killua's lips whispered one final word as oxygen and bloodlust flooded into his body and he simultaneously lost awareness.
"... Baka."
Don't you get it?
I am the threat.
- Infallible Logic. -
Gon stared in confusion as Killua's head slowly rose, his eyes opening slowly to reveal dark, blank indigo irises and pinpoint-pupils, the bangs of his hair casting a dark, emotionless shadow across his face. An expression of cold, murderous intensity. What... the...
He'd seen this look on his best friend's face before.
It was Killua's "Assassin Mode." Ordinarily Gon would be put on guard to brace for a hail of attacks from enemy forces, but this time Killua's cold gaze was directed... at him. A cold chill ran down his back, and adrenaline spiked his system as time slowed to a crawl.
He told me to run. H-he... He gave the signal, telling me to run from a threat. But that's dumb, Killua wouldn't—
Gon couldn't even finish forming the thought before he felt a stab in his torso. So fast, so deep, so instantaneous, so unexpected that he didn't even see the silver-haired boy twitch. B-but Killua wouldn't... he wouldn't k—
Gon's mouth parted in an exhaled gasp, droplets of blood splattering out onto the carpeted floor and granting his tongue the unsavory metallic taste that he'd become all too familiar with these days.
Heh. Look at that. Six little droplets of Gon-blood, staining Mito-san's white carpet. Man, she won't be happy when she gets home from grocery shopping. Speaking of, I hope she picks up more of those little cakes, the ones with the maple syrup icing—
Gah... Focus! Focus, Gon! No time for daydreaming!
Gon's gaze wandered down to his own chest. Seemed like as good a place to look as any other, considering it's where the stabbing feeling was coming from. Well, you'd never guess this – the knife puncturing Gon's lung at the moment was Killua's hand! This was his sharp knife-fingernail thing that he promised he'd teach Gon how to do someday (but Gon had always figured he probably never would, since Killua always liked to protect his "tricks of trade").
But that was so funny. What was a knife-finger of Killua's doing digging into Gon's chest? It was pretty uncomfortable, to be honest. It made him taste blood after all. He thought he should tell Killua to remove it.
(Deep down, Gon knew his brain was moving agonizingly slow – slower than usual – but he just didn't understand. Killua must have had a good reason, he was too loyal to do anything like this without his usual infallible logic and rationale. )
"Why?" Gon asked calmly, his voice sounding somewhat muffled. You know, from all the blood that was filling his lungs.
"Why?" he asked a second time when he got no response.
Oh.
Whoops.
I think I said something wrong.
He's attacking again and now he's—
- RESET. -
Killua came to about five minutes later, snapping back to the real world the way you jerk awake from a nightmare. He winced a little as the intense afternoon sun filtered into the room. Unfamiliar surroundings. Hm... he wasn't at home, and he wasn't in a hotel. Interesting, but not exactly new, considering his lifestyle.
Feeling some stiffness in his neck and back, Killua rolled his shoulders and stretched, doing a swift scan. It'd been a while since he'd flipped his switch, and his mind whirred faster than his eyes could take in his surroundings.
Must be on an assignment. Can't remember what, though. What was my target again? The tech CEO? Nah, bagged him a while ago. Prime Minister of the Lansign Republic? Eh, nope. Wouldn't be dressed like this. Eh. I'll just check the database as soon as I—
Killua's foot hit against something on the floor, and he idly glanced downwards. An Xbox controller. Sweet. Must be cool games on here.
(Deep down, he knew he was missing something. Probably on purpose, come to think of it. Killua felt those cold, mental walls concealing something. But just like Illumi always said – the mind had many facets, and you could train those facets to do virtually anything. Hence, defense mechanisms, poker faces, daydreams, and in the case of the Zoldycks, auto-pilot assassination modes. Killua figured he was still lodged firmly on that last setting, which was always in his best interest, after all.)
About ten minutes into Modern Warfare, he heard the opening of door down the stairs from where he sat, and a woman's voice called out, "Boys! I'm back! Come help with the groceries."
Boys?
But Killua was alone – he knew that the second he regained awareness. There wasn't a single other living being in this entire building, except for her, now. Potential witness?
When in doubt, wipe them out. Another Illumi mantra.
Thirteen seconds later, Killua was rinsing blood off of his hands into a sink in the kitchen of this strange home. Body has been disposed of, and evidence had been eliminated.
He still felt like he was missing something, and now he wondered if it was a red flag. Was this all a trap? Was he in a kill box? Was he surrounded? Was this place rigged to blow any second? Killua coudn't be sure.
... He needed to leave. He snagged all the groceries and stuffed his backpack and pockets, filled up some water bottles, swiped a few tools and a flashlight, and in another eighteen seconds Killua was out the door and sprinting down the road.
The average radius for a common house bomb is... Ah, that's right. Another mile just to be safe.
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Life was routine. Routine was his forte. His forte was killing. Killing was his only objective. He was infamous. Unstoppable Force, Son of Silva, Third in the Lost Legacy and Future Heir to the Family Name.
Killua Tome Raremasen Zoldyck.
And right now, he was moving onwards towards a goal - the first one he'd had in such a long time. One Kilo of Kills: a thousand successful assassinations. And when he finished, Killua would receive the final blessing of his bloodline, ascend to rule the dynasty, and expand the Zoldycks' influence across the nations.
He had been prophesied to do nothing less.
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Since his birth, young Killua Zoldyck has been destined to rule the earth.
- Now, he had been reset. And so it began. -
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Meanwhile, in a secluded forest twenty miles in the opposite direction, Gon Freecs awakened with a painful gasp, clutching desperately to the trunk of a tree.
"... K-Killua."