A/N: Start the countdown, there are only so many chapters left people! Hopefully I keep you entertained to the final sentence and do Hisoka's character justice.

Hisoka's body was beginning to shake from the contained bloodlust. He needed to find an opponent, a strong one, and soon. Just as fate would have it he saw his little cherry running towards him at that moment.

Psyche was rapidly coming down the brightly lit hallway, shadows thrown out in every direction beneath her and Hisoka did not waste a moment. He simply could not wait any longer. The small hallway became coated in his bloodlust. Psyche was startled, but her eyes remained glued on the magician and as she slowed she was able to see him pull a deck of cards from his pocket and, with practiced ease, threw three with great strength in her direction.

Psyche's instincts told her to run, but also to stay and fight. The internal struggle reduced her reaction time. Only capable of catching two out of three of the projectiles Psyche hissed in pain as the last one tore through her right side. Blood quickly seeped into her black tank top and the revealed skin was nothing more than red and pale colored inner flesh. She pressed her left hand to the wound and dropped the cards she had caught in her opposite hand to the floor. Confusion and anger swirled in pink eyes.

"What the hell?" Psyche spat as she felt the blood heavily coat her fingers, shortly after it began to seep through and dripped to the floor. She flinched when she tried to move. Damn, that hurts. Why though? What is going on with him?

"Time to play my little cherry…" Hisoka's voice sounded like it had been recorded on an old music box, one that had been played over and over but eventually left forgotten. It was the eeriest sound Psyche had ever heard.

She slid her right foot back, hand still over her wound, and contemplated what to do. All the while Hisoka approached at the same unhurried pace he had used on his opponent just minutes ago. Her heart rate increased though she kept strict control of her breathing.

What were her options? She could fight - which would probably end with her death - or she could run - which would also lead to her death. Psyche struggled to decide the best course of action, all the while Hisoka approached slowly. His presence added great pressure to Psyche, forcing her to hurriedly rush to a decision she may have otherwise never considered in her current state.

Just as Hisoka had reached a distance from Psyche, which was twice the distance of her wingspan, she sucked in a breath and booked it forward. She wasn't trying to rush at the magician, but simply rush past the magician. And it would have worked had his reaction been any more delayed. As it was, just a second before the woman would have fully passed him Hisoka's arm shot out to hook Psyche's bent elbow. She was jerked back. A hiss escaped through her lips as the jerk caused her hand, more specifically her nails, to scrape harshly against her open wound and more blood spurted free.

Hisoka was malevolent. A face splitting grin revealed his canines even as he raised his opposite hand to block the spinning kick his toy had executed, directly aimed to crush his windpipe. His fingers curled around Psyche's right ankle, digging his nails into her flesh to stop her attack, and used his own left foot to take out hers.

As Psyche felt her leg knocked out from beneath her she attempted to twist in the short fall, using her torso as the main pivot. The slice in her side prevented her from completing the turn, landing her heavily on her stomach and now incapable of sweeping Hisoka's legs out as she had wanted to. More blood was forced from Psyche's side, the warm red liquid thinly coating the floor around her. She felt the breath knocked from her lungs at the sudden contact but did not allow herself time to recover. To be more accurate, just as Psyche began to spring back to her feet (despite feeling the protest once more from her wound) Hisoka kicked her uninjured side.

Psyche was sent rolling a great distance down the hallway.

By the time she stopped rolling, and had managed to crouch, her burgundy hair was wild - some strands were falling over her shoulders, some ends had become stuck in her wound, and more were coated in blood as she coughed up a bit of the liquid.

The magician steadily paced towards his crouching toy, enjoying the wide eyes that shot up to lock onto him when she finally heard the clicking of his shoes on tile. Hisoka chuckled.

Psyche pushed herself to her feet, keeping her knees bent as she clasped her hand over her wound and briefly closed her eyes. It would have helped if her breathing wasn't ragged, if her body could respond how she wanted, if her mind was calm… but none of that was happening. In all her experience, Psyche had never faced an opponent like Hisoka. She had never experienced a life-or-death fight to this extreme.

In all honesty, every fight Psyche had once thought she had staked her life on was a joke compared to this. All those fights, all those opponents, not once had she felt this pressure or uneasiness. It had been a long, long time since Psyche had thought her life was truly in danger of being ended.

Swallowing, Psyche knew she only had one option left to her. She opened her eyes.

Hisoka had closed the distance between them and his nose was nearly touching her own. Yellow orbs were smiling into scarred pink ones.