Disclaimer: Suffice to say that the only thing I own here is the plot. To Togashi Yoshiro and his ability to bring the most beautiful and interesting characters to life, we tip our hats.
Warning:Updates will be erratic in nature; do bear with my faults and my inconsistencies.
THE CHASE
2 - Letters to No One
Dear Creepy Killers Weekly, what should one do if one finds a deranged clown in her apartment flinging cards at her and is, though not proven, sexually harassing her? Should one (a.) call the police (b) or reward her person with a good jump off the building's top floor for not killing the nut job properly?
P.S
A quick reply would be most appreciated.
The battle continued in Alia's apartment. A battle she wasn't fully prepared for. Tired from the previous assignment she finished earlier that day all she wanted to do was to take a good long hot bath then sleep but the clown in her room seems to have other plans.
Alia continued to conjure up walls to shield her from the flying cards, feeling wearier as the fight continued. She cannot continue fighting like this. She spared a glance at the nearest window figuring she would still survive and live to tell the tale if she ran away now. Breaking said clown's face can wait and there really is no shame in running away. She made a run for the window her fist almost colliding with its surface when she noticed that everything suddenly became quiet. She lowered her shield but kept her guard up preparing herself from any tricks the clown might have in store for her until she realized she's finally alone in the room, like she should be.
She paused, momentarily questioning her sanity. Maybe, just maybe, the man was just a figment of her imagination, an illusion, a manifestation of just how she badly needed release. Maybe her day was just extremely bad that she took all her pent up frustration and anger on the furniture without realizing it managing to injure herself in the process.
Yes, she could settle for that, both her brain and body too tired to search for a logical explanation.
She let out a deep breath, willed her mind to focus, and scanned her surroundings, assessing the damages the battle— no, her short-lived relapse brought. From an outsider's view, she surely needs another place to stay the night. But, no, she definitely did not have that option. She sighed. She has to fix the furniture the clown—damn it, that she broke, not that she couldn't pay for them she just hates it when things get broken unnecessarily and when the place she should be staying in is a complete mess. She was getting more and more irritated as she looked at the wrecked objects around her if the vein on her head was anything to go by. Her OCD kept on urging her to do something about it.
The sooner I clean this mess up, the sooner I can be dead to the worldshe thought.
Mind made up, she walked into the center of the room, closed her eyes and started reciting words so quietly and in a rhythm that resembled a bird song. Multi-colored ribbons of light started to emit from her body, creeping down from her shoulders to her arms and to the floor. As she recites the last of the words she opened her eyes. For a second, a blinding flash of light devoured everything and was gone the next.
It was as if the clown never— no, she corrected herself. It was as if she didn't have a minute of sudden schizophrenia and demolished everything in sight. No conjured hands sprang on the floor. No cracks or broken wood. Traces of war are nowhere to be found.
And then she let herself fall on the floor. Both her mind and body extremely exhausted from using her abilities and the onslaught of jobs her current employer had managed to bury her with. Deciding that taking a bath could wait; she closed her eyes waiting for sleep to come to her. Despite lying in a bloody stinky heap that was her, the silence was just perfect. She closed her eyes slowly, waiting for the sandman to claim her.
But no, she can't be granted that kind of luxury just yet.
Complacency and denial turned out to be her second mistake for the night.
"Impressive light display, really colorful."
It seems that the familiar malicious voice is back breaking her peace, ready to irritate her once again. She stared at imaginary, yes imaginary, man before her, deciding that she could will him to disappear just as easily as he reappeared.
"What do you want this time?" she said resignedly, mentally noting that she needed to see a therapist soon now that she has decided to talk to imaginary bastards. She didn't even bother opening her eyes to know that the clown is grinning. She continued to lie limp on her side determined to not look at the beholder of the voice, hoping that he really is just a figment of her ever-so-active imagination and that he'd disappear soon. To her dissatisfaction, she was instead lifted up from the floor. Tired from everything that has happened, she found herself giving in to what the stranger has to offer.
"Not even a slap on the face for holding you?" the clown said in sad fashion. When she didn't answer back he added "I like what you've done with the place. I can't say the same with how you smell though, you need a proper bath."
Finally someone gets it.
Wait a minute...
If she remembered correctly, make-believe jackasses do not have the ability to move, let alone lift a hundred-and-twenty pound woman... right?
A/N:There, act 2 is up! Told you I was going to update in a couple of hours.
on a slightly unrelated note, I asked my mom what she would do if she's alone in an apartment with a clown trying to kill her. Her answer? Kill him with everything I've got.
Sorry for the short updates, I don't normally post short chapters but I seem to have grown fond of them lately.
Anyhoot, the interesting part's coming up soon (I hope).
-vjeury
EDIT April 29, 2013: So yeah, after a year or so I finally found the courage to re-write this fic and hopefully do Hisoka's character justice.
Currently writing chapters 3 and 4.
Finally wrote an acceptable plot for this fic.
Did major edits to chapter 1 and tightened some of the loose screws on chapter 2.
much love, vjeury.