A/N: Okay…so I wasn't on a roll. But here's the next part, although it's only one short this time. I was kinda sick this weekend…that and I didn't feel like writing all that much, but I'm working on others, so next chapter will have more. But this one, I felt, should stand alone. I actually wrote Bel in canon for once. Enjoy, loves.

Warnings: Violence, Content, mild gore, I guess, you know, Bel being his sadistic self.

Disclaimer: Sushi*Bomb does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

14: Bloodsport

(In which an apex predator hunts for his next kill)

Salerno had always been his favorite hunting ground.

It was close enough so that it wouldn't take him long to get there and commence his hunt, but still far enough so that the beautifully messy results of his nightly activities wouldn't be splattered all over the local news in Naples.

The weather was nice; a little cool for that time of year, but Bel rather liked that. He detested getting sweaty when he went out on his little hunts, especially when he was in the middle of a kill.

But what Bel liked most of all was the wonderful diversity of potential victims.

The blonde prince hid up on the roof of an old apartment building, sitting on the ledge with his legs folded indian-style as he watched the people below walk by. One of his trademark blades was being twirled in his hand idly.

He only had time for one tonight, so he needed a good one.

A screamer.

Those were his absolute favorites.

Their screams made the kill so much more intense. And satisfying.

He enjoyed the prospecting nearly as much as he enjoyed the actual pursuit.

Hidden grey eyes bounced from face to face, quickly studying each person as they walked by. Bel loved envisioning all of the different scenarios; visions of blood and limbs flying flashing before his eyes quickly before turning to the next person. He felt his pulse quicken with each gruesome fantasy. He could feel his body become physically excited by his growing need; his breathing was shallow, his face felt a bit flushed, and hell, he might've been a little excited downstairs too.

But Bel ignored it.

That wasn't the kind of release he was seeking on this night.

He didn't know yet exactly what type of person he was looking for, but Bel always let his instinct guide him. He was the predator, and they were the prey. He had the power. He held their tiny, inconsequential lives in the palm of his hand, and the sheer thought of it drove electrifying shivers up his spine, nearly throwing him into a frenzy.

Patience, Prince Belphegor, he thought to himself calmly, grinning widely.

Take your time. They have to be just right.

He would know his ideal kill when he saw it.

Nearly an hour passed before he found his perfect victim.

A woman. Slightly intoxicated, by the looks of it. She smiled dopily to herself as she staggered down the block, barely keeping her balance in the flashy, hot pink stiletto pumps on her feet.

The prince's Cheshire cat grin widened so much it nearly split his face.

She wouldn't be able to run too far in those.

Which was unfortunate, Bel thought, because he loved the chase. But he would go without it, just this once. She was much too perfect physically to pass up.

The prince lazily slid from the rooftop, moving noiselessly in the darkness, sleek and agile like a feline. He leaped stealthily from balcony to balcony, studying his intended target.

She was beautiful, truthfully. Probably a call girl of some sort, judging by the scant, yet obviously high quality clothing she wore, not to mention the pricey designer bag hanging in the crook of her forearm.

Definitely screwing some high-powered people. Bel thought. The top few buttons of her white blouse were undone, exposing the swell of her milky chest, which was bound in a tight, black bustier. Almost as black as her long, wavy hair, which hung loosely down her back. The blonde bit his lip as he mentally commended himself for making such a fine choice.

Bel had a thing for women in sexy lingerie. Dead or not.

Her skirt was a bit short for his liking; he preferred to let his imagination run wild, but the high-waisted business skirt flaunted the voluptuous curve of her hips perfectly, so he would make an exception in this case.

He ran ahead of her and jumped down to a lower balcony, balancing elegantly on the thin metal railing.

She had not spotted him yet, of course, (what kind of elite hitman would he be if she had?) and Bel's smile grew predatory as he drank up the view of his target from the front. His eyes followed the soft sway of her hips as she walked, her bright green eyes half-lidded and sleepy as she came closer. His body felt warm with anticipation.

He hadn't killed a beautiful woman in such a long time.

His finger twitched again. The prince slid his hand into one of his pockets, fingering one of the oddly-shaped knives stashed away.

Bel stood up and walked along the railing, idly twirling a knife in his hand. She was directly below him now, fishing for something in her purse. He could smell the subtle but expensive scent of her perfume, and the sweet smell made his eyes roll back in his head from his insane desire. His control was slipping very quickly.

Belphegor strung together a trio of knives. Now, how to catch her. Slit her Achilles' Tendons? He pondered as he walked along the railing, tapping the knife to his lips pensively. Or maybe perhaps by the neck? Like a noose. Yeah. That could be interesting.

With a shark-like grin, the prince threw his knives, none hitting their target of course, but then again, that was not their intended purpose. Yet.

The woman was so focused on finding whatever it was she was looking for, she didn't notice the shiny weapons whizzing around her, nor did she notice the gleam of the wire in the moonlight.

People walking alone should pay better attention to their surroundings. The prince thought to himself knowingly. With a hissing laugh, Belphegor pulled the wire taut as the woman walked into it, the sharp edge of the wire slicing into her neck as she walked into it. The distressed gurgling sounds of the woman gasping for breath and clutching at her now bleeding throat nearly drove Belphegor over the edge of sanity.

He jumped down in front of the bleeding call girl, a look of mock-concern on his face. Naturally, she hadn't noticed him come out of nowhere.

"Hey lady, are you alright?"

The woman looked at him dazedly as she staggered towards the prince, desperately trying to form words. She can't though, Bel thought with a mental smile, her vocal chords are shredded.

There wouldn't be any screams echoing through the city that night, but the sheer amount of blood spurting from the severed artery in her neck more than made up for it.

"Help..ahuhhh" She managed to say, her words sputtering out along with a thick spurt of blood that dribbled down her chin. Her blouse, once a nice, crisp white, was now stained bright red with vibrant arterial blood. Under his veil of hair, Belphegor's eyes widened in sadistic delight.

Beautiful. He thought proudly.

She reached for him, and he mockingly held out a hand and pulled her against him. She looked almost grateful in her semiconscious state; her face was deathly pale and she was visibly growing weaker as the seconds ticked by, but she still clung to him tightly, silently begging for help.

"...He-hel-aaahh..." She stuttered, blinking back tears of fear, pain, and desperation. Bel pulled her flush against him, relishing the feeling of her warm blood soaking his shirt. He shushed her soothingly, patting her hair to calm her down.

"Shhh, it's alright,"He cooed into her ear quietly as he smoothed down her matted, bloodied hair, "I'll take perfectly good care of you." His lip twitched a bit, the prince unable to keep the Cheshire cat smile from creeping onto his face.

"You'll look so gorgeous splattered all over the wall," He said dreamily as he stroked her hair, "Congrats on being lucky number four, Ushishi~!" He hissed with a chuckle into her ear. He could feel the woman instantly tense in his vice-like grip, gurgling and clutching at her neck as she tried to push away from him.

He pulled her hand away from her neck viciously to inspect the result of his ambush. She was bleeding profusely from the deep gash that ran all the way across the front side of her neck. It wasn't deep enough to slice completely through her neck; the wire wasn't that strong, or that sharp, but it had done a fine job of severing her artery.

Bel smiled widely at her. "Does it hurt?" He asked with mock innocence, all the while tightening his grip around her waist. But it appeared the woman still had a bit of fight left in her. She brought a hand up and clawed at his face blindly with her long fingernails, catching the assassin's cheek. Bel hissed as he released her, holding his cheek in mild shock.

She staggered away as quickly as she could, make-up running down her bloodied face as she cried silent tears.

Bel pulled his hand away from his cheek. It was stained with blood. His blood. A manic smile spread like an infectious disease across the prince's face. His breathing quickened in excitement, a hissing laugh escaping him as he pawed giddily at his face.

"Oh I'm bleeding, I'm bleeding~! Ushishi~!Aaaaaah~" He swooned and giggled, the sheer adrenaline of the sight of his royal blood pulsing through his body.

"You don't know what you've just done, lady." He said with a malicious giggle as he followed her calmly. She made a pained noise as she finally collapsed against a wall.

She looked up to see Belphegor towering over her, his half-hidden face bloodied and grinning.

Oh, this'll definitely make it onto the news in Naples tomorrow. Bel thought as he brought the first of many knives down.

He could already hear the pretentious newscasters labeling his crimes.

Salerno has a serial killer. The Salerno Slasher, or something silly like that. He thought as he slit her again and again, his stabbing getting more and more frantic and violent with his joy.

He was the apex predator in this city.

He loved the kill.

And he knew that he'd have a fit of mania when he relived this sweet murder tomorrow morning when he saw this beautiful, bloodied bombshell under a white blanket on the news.

Salerno didn't have a serial killer.

It had Prince the Ripper.

They have the best of the best. But I'm sure they won't see it that way.

He laughed uncontrollably at the sheer hilarity of that thought as he flitted away a good hour later, doused in red.

It was his best color, after all.

That was officially my first attempt at writing anything remotely violent or bloody. I'm not a big gore fan, to be honest. Regardless, I hope it was good and in character!

Next chapter'll be up soon, and I'm working on everything else I needed to write too. Just be patient with me!