Surprise! I'm back again. Bet you weren't expecting me.
Anyway, I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn or D. Gray Man
When Allen opened his eyes, there was a man in his hotel room.
A familiar man, still wearing his fancy pressed suit and dark sunglasses. The same man that pointed a gun to his head before Neah made an appearance.
Allen watched him for a moment, taking in how roughed up he was. His suit was ripped, shredded to mere scraps. Blood covered him from head to toe.
The exorcist in hiding tried to ignore the man's missing eyes, gaping holes visible over the top of the slipping sunglasses. He failed. He had to look away, unable to stand the blank emptiness that met his stare.
The blinded Mafioso was tied to the hotel room's desk chair, the same chair Allen used for his morning exercises. Only the quick rising and falling his chest rested the exorcist-in-hiding's concern that his uncle decided to parade around a corpse to show off. Again.
What on Earth had Neah been thinking this time?
"You awake yet, brat?" the Mafioso croaked. Allen started, the loud rustling of sheets answering the question before he even needed to open his mouth. The Mafioso continued. He laughed bitterly, his head swinging around as he tried to follow the sound. "Your guardian angel is scary as fuck, kid," he complimented.
"I am sorry, sir," Allen muttered. "I did try to be civil…"
"Yeah, that demon mentioned something like that. 'Threatening his pure nephew,' or some shit. I don't really care," the man sighed, finally deciding to just tilt his head against the back of the chair. "He said he'd let me go if I teach you about Flames." Allen was quiet. "He's not going to let me go, is he?"
"No," Allen admitted. "Neah will kill you."
The Mafioso laughed again, manically this time. "Might as well do what he says then!"
"It will probably make it less painful," the host of Neah confirmed. "Neah is kinder to those that help me."
"The full name for Flames, brat, are Dying Will Flames. There are seven Flames, Sky, Storm, Mist, Lightning, Rain, Sun, and Cloud. I'm a Lightning Flame. From what I've seen, you're a Mist Flame," the Mafioso explained. "Each Flame has its own advantages and disadvantages, their own expectations. For you, Mist Flames are indigo and are one of the two Flames that comes in two different types that a User can manipulate. Soft Flame and Hard Flames. Soft Flames are considered easier to control and are used more for attacking with speed. Most Mist Users prefer Soft Flames. Hard Flames are, well, harder. Slower and stronger, it's good for a thin defense. Mist Flames attack sanity more than the target's physical form. As such, most Mist Users are weak offensively, relying solely on their illusion. It goes so far to be a matter of pride," the man explained.
Allen listened intently, trying to absorb as much as he could about this mysterious new power Neah noticed. Slowly, he constructed a plan, one to stay out of sight but still keep his promise to Mana.
"Instead of physical strength, Mist Users exercise their imagination. The User with better mental stability and a more elaborate imagination will win any fight against a fellow Mist," the Mafioso canted his head, taking in Allen's attentive silence. "Any questions, brat?"
"What, exactly, are 'Dying Will Flames', sir?" Allen asked promptly.
The Mafioso sighed. "You got to ask the hard questions, don't you, kid?" Before Allen could apologize, the man continued. "Dying Will Flames can best be described as your inner self. Usually, a person's Flame is inherited from one of their parents, but my father's a Sun and my mother's a Storm – Flames represent who you are and who you will be. If you're religious, think of Flames as your soul. Your super-powered soul that can break a man's mind faster than you can blink. But, I think you already have that in spades."
The teen hoped he would remember everything after it was all said and done. Neah had held off on his usual murderous rampage so that he could be taught. He didn't want to put his homicidal uncle's thoughtful efforts to waste.
"Start practicing slowly," the Mafioso advised. "Choose one thing to have a continuous illusion. Never let it waver. It'll exercise your stamina and your imagination." He was breathing heavily, his skin pale from blood loss. Allen politely didn't mention the large puddle of blood staining the hotel's carpet.
"Now," the Mafioso's head bobbed and his voice fluttered. He shakily cleared his throat and tried again. "Now, I want you to try and- and call up your Flames. You need to search within yourself for a warm spot, a power that breathes with you."
Allen closed his eyes, attempting to follow the Mafioso's directions. He reached deep, feeling Crown Clown's sudden attention at his exploration. His consciousness softly brushed against the calm green energy, exciting the Innocence. With Crown Clown trailing behind, Allen searched deeper, ignoring the Dark Matter that cocooned Neah's sleeping form.
Crown Clown mentally nudged its wielder, directing him past the Noah. Allen followed, not yet seeing anything but trusting his Innocence to guide him.
He looked around, finding nothing.
With a snap, the world exploded into an indigo bonfire.
Allen jolted into awareness, a scream caught in his throat.
The Mafioso chuckled. "Found it, huh?" He coughed once, twice, red spittle dripping down his chin. He grinned, baring his blood stained teeth to the teen. "Seems you don't need me anymore, brat."
"May I know your name, sir?" Allen asked, a gentle smile directed at the sightless man. He could already feel Neah stirring, jarred by the activation of his Flames.
The Mafioso tilted his head, his empty eye sockets judging Allen. The Noah host nearly fidgeted as the time ticked by.
"Arturo De Luca," the Mafioso answered. "From the Pompilio Family."
"It was nice to meet you, Mr. De Luca," Allen stated faintly. He closed his eyes submissively, tired and ready to sleep once again.
Maybe…maybe he could go apologize to Arturo's Family. It would be the least he could do, after everything Neah did. Besides, he had the destructive Noah on his side if it turned out badly.
"Good boy," Neah purred, his gold eyes glowing as he stared at the Mafioso. "Best teacher."
"Go to hell, demon," Arturo spat, his jaw clenching in his hatred for the other half of the kind child.
"You first," the Fourteenth Noah sang as he plunged his fist into Arturo's chest, his fingers piercing the man's heart in one swift blow. "My precious Allen still needs me. Unlike someone I won't mention."
Neah stared at the body for a moment before glancing around the rest of the hotel room.
"The Pompilio Family, my beloved nephew?" he mused, standing. He stalked towards the exit, ready to carry out Allen's final thoughts.
He grinned sharply.
"So you have wished it, so it shall be."
"Voi! What the fuck, brat prince!" Squalo screamed, waving his bladed arm around. Mammon's floating form bobbed nonchalantly out of the way when the sword came close to chopping his head off. "I sent you to get the Alfieri Family to back off! Instead, you return with a corpse!"
"Ushishishi, the peasants won't act up again, the Prince promises," Bel laughed, nudging at the corpse he dropped in front of the commander when he arrived with his booted foot. "They were far too weak."
Mammon wondered if Verde would be interested in checking Squalo's blood pressure at the expense of one of the favors the other Arcobelano owed the miser. That shade of red can't be healthy for the commander.
"VOI!" Squalo shrieked. "The mission said 'threaten'! Not 'stab-the-asshole-until-he-stops-twitching'!"
"The Prince only needed to stab the peasant once before he was quiet," Bel corrected proudly.
"Bel~" Lussuria purred, staring at the blond teen from his reclining position on a nearby cough. "You can't just kill everyone that annoys you~" He warned.
"It creates paperwork," Mammon interjected. "Paperwork and bills. My least favorite combination."
"Exactly!" Lussuria exclaimed. "We don't want our favorite male Mist trapped in the office all day, it's a waste of…talent~" he cooed, watching the transformed baby from over his glasses.
Mammon felt dirty.
"If only we had someone less important do the paperwork in Mammon's place~" Lussuria hinted, his piercing stare shifting over to the lazy Lightning Guardian, who merely flipped a page of his magazine.
"Yes, someone who refuses half of their missions and creates over half of the paperwork all by himself, forcing our delicate female Mist to seclude herself away," Levi stated, bored.
"Excuse me, you miserable lump of putrid flesh?" Lussuria hissed, his yellow Flames lighting up his eyes, burning his glasses.
Mammon sighed, mentally marking down a cut from Lussuria and Levi's pay for the designer glasses that he would need to replace. For the fifth time that week.
"You heard me, you – you walking fashion disaster!" Levi boomed, throwing himself to his feet as he unsheathed a bladed umbrella.
"You take that back!" Lussuria screeched, lifting his fists towards his face as he bounced on the balls of his feet.
"Voi! Both of you sit your asses back down! I can't deal with your bullshit and the pile of corpses at the same time without adding to the fatality list!" Squalo shouted, flailing his blade-arm threateningly at his subordinates. At his firm glare, the two Guardians threw themselves back onto their separate couches with a huff and growl.
"Boss would have agreed with me~" Lussuria muttered, pouting.
The entire room froze.
Mammon's gaze sharpened, focused on the uncomfortable looks of his comrades.
It wasn't the first time he had heard about the Boss, Xanxus Vongola. Usually, the name was whispered behind closed doors, like the youngest son of Nono was a bogeyman just waiting to be called into being. As he had been welcomed after the infamous Cradle Affair, the Arcobelano had the misfortune of never meeting the war machine of a man.
However, this was the first time so many of his former subordinates were around while he was mentioned. And their reactions were disheartening.
Squalo was silenced immediately, as if someone had pressed his mute button. Lussuria flinched, realizing his mistake while Levi choked out a disheartening sob.
And Bel's smile dropped, disappearing like it never existed in the first place.
Mammon's hidden eyes narrowed dangerously. He refused to allow his precious comrades to be unhappy. They were all he had left.
"You're grounded, shitty Prince," Squalo croaked When Bel moved to argue, the Rain Commander fixed tired eyes on the Prince's fringe. "For messing up a mission. Go to your room and think over your mistakes."
"Mammy," Bel murmured, snatching the Mist out of the air as he bowed to Squalo's command and fled the room.
Mammon checked over Bel's shoulder as they left, watching as the three commanders slumped, exhausted and saddened.
He had no doubt that in mere minutes the Rain Commander would beat Lussuria's ass for bring up such a topic; but for now, they allowed themselves a moment of weakness for the Sky they pledged their lives to.
The Arcobelano grinned.
He had an idea.
A wonderful, beautiful idea.
Allen Walker could never stand for his friends being upset.
Mammon, unfortunately, inherited that unwavering loyalty.
He just needed to visit his library and an old acquaintance or two.
Good bye Arturo, we barely knew thee.
If anyone is wondering how Neah or Arturo noticed the Flames, it's going to be explained eventually.
I'm liking this Allen. He struggles a lot more, as he only has a homicidal uncle and Timcampy to support him. He's walking into everything completely blind. Mammon is the end result for Allen's blunderings.
Haha, I did it again. I like using modified quotes for Neah, it's fun. (Last time was Lelouch from Code Geass and a highly modified quote from Harry Potter. "Bow to death, Harry. It might even be painless. I wouldn't know. I have never die," from Voldemort vs. "Do not fear, my good man. It will only hurt a little. I would know. I have already died," from Neah. I'm not sorry.)
So, I did some research on Mist Flames and their Users. Apparently, they have a habit of latching onto a greater purpose, like Chrome's dedication to Mukuro and Mukuro's hatred of the mafia. Tsuna, possibly as their Sky, helped them through that, kinda. Mammon doesn't really have a Sky yet (we don't talk about Luce here), and Allen is fiercely dedicated to anyone he sees as his comrade. Yeah, Mammon's obsession is his friends, mainly Bel at the moment. (And everything is suddenly explained). Note that this is more a fandom understanding of Flames (I think?), so if you don't wanna follow that train of thought, you really don't have to. It's not required for the story to make sense.
(Shit in the past really starts going down next chapter…)
Guest Reviews:
guest – Haha, thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far!
Yuki Shiro – Okay, your pleas have convinced me. Timcampy will survive. We should see him briefly next chapter.
KK – Haha, thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far!
Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter!