Hi everyone! I have been revived from the dead!

Just kidding. I didn't die, thankfully. Though I have been a crappy and very lazy person. Sorry... :P

NOTE: Everything about tattoos here have been taken off the web. And the tattooist's identity is just pure speculation, but for the sake of this story it's... well, read on and you'll find out.

Anyway, without further ado, here's chapter 24 :)

CHAPTER 24

"So what you're saying is that you're going to do the tattoos?!" Rooke exclaimed nervously. "Are you sure-"

"The other troupe members survived, you will too." Feitan said boredly, as he retrieved his needles and ink from his shelf.

S-survived? Rooke wasn't sure whether it was just a poor choice of words, or if it really meant what it sounded like. She hoped it was the former.

The trio had made it to Zaban City to get their tattoos - just that Rooke wasn't informed that it was Feitan who was going to tattoo them. But now everything kinda fits - Feitan was good with needles, after all. And thus here the trio were, in a rather messy apartment - Feitan's apartment, to be exact.

Rooke felt cheated. Sure, Chrollo had his way with people - but couldn't he have given her a heads up? A little 'hey, Rooke, you're going to be skewered alive by our interrogator' would have been nice.

But then again, Rooke knew Chrollo knew she would probably run if she was told that Feitan would be her tattoo artist. Damn it.

"Say, Feitan-san," Kalluto started. "You're not going to use the machine method for the tattoos, are you?"

He shook his head, and motioned for them to sit down. "Where do you want your tattoos?"

While the Zoldyck child was thinking of a spot that would be hidden from sight, Rooke was thinking of a spot that would cause the least pain. Sure, she had an okay tolerance for pain in the troupe, but this was Feitan. And Feitan wasn't stingy when it came to doling out servings of pain. Rather, he was often more than generous.

And yes, she probably should be considering a more aesthetic spot for the tattoo, seeing that it is going to be pretty much permanent. But now that she knew Feitan of all people was going to tattoo her, her priorities changed.

Quickly Rooke whipped out her smartphone, and keyed in a few words into its search engine.

Least painful place to get a tattoo

Here is a list of parts of your body that experience the most pain when getting tattooed. The list is in descending order of pain, and the last area of the body mentioned on the list is, according to many people, the least painful.

1) Upper arm

2) Forearm

3) Inner arm

4) Waist

5) Hip

6) Thigh

7) Calf

"I'll go for the calf! Uh, left calf!" Rooke blurted out, and quickly slipped her phone back into her pocket. Hopefully none of them saw that.

Feitan raised an eyebrow. "Fine. I'll do you first. Lie down." (A/N: ^v^ Don't think dirty, people!)

Rooke obediently went over to the old sofa, and laid on it, back upwards. It was a good thing the sofa was small, too - she could sort of 'hug' the soft armrest. Well, in case she needed something to claw.

"So, uh, Feitan, why doesn't the Troupe go to a tattoo shop for this? Isn't the machine-method much faster?" Rooke asked, as the Chinese man put on his glove. Of course, she didn't actually know anything about tattooing, but rather, she was making an educated guess.

"Don't be stupid." Feitan replied, and dipped a needle in black ink. "The moment you request this tattoo, they'll probably call the cops over, and it'll be a mess. I'm starting, so shut it."

Rooke grimaced as she felt the first few pricks on her skin. It was painful, but she dealt with it; and soon enough she got used to it, although it was quite an annoying feeling.

Come to think of it, this was her first time in any of the Troupe member's houses. Well, Feitan's. Rooke inquisitively craned her neck so she could peer around. It was relatively small, as if it was tailored to fit the man's size. The furniture was rather small, too. Rooke briefly imagined Franklin breaking one of the stools here after sitting on it.

Rooke suddenly wondered what Feitan's bedroom looked like. But as soon as the thought had come, she shooed it away. It probably had blood and dangling guts everywhere, given his image.

"If you keep talking, it'll be your intestines that will be decorating my room," Feitan said, pushing the needle in harshly.

"Owowowow Feitan please stop," Rooke said, feeling extremely uncomfortable. And threatened. But all the same she promptly shut up, and the Chinese man kept going.

But sometimes, staying quiet isn't always good for the bartender. One moment she was in the living room of Feitan's apartment, and the next, she was transported to a mystical place - a figment of her imagination, a part of her mind. The floor was checkered with black and white tiles, and the furniture was classic, with wooden or brass frames, and plush cushions. Rooke was there, lying down on a plush couch as she was on Feitan's sofa - but this time, there was only one other person in the dingy room. Seated on a chair facing her was a figure clad in black. It had dimension and yet, felt as flat as a shadow.

Hey.

Rooke sighed, but got a painful reminder to shut up, work of a needle stuck firmly in her calf muscle.

"You're in a compromising position, aint'cha? The black figure laughed.

"Shut it, man."The bartender retorted. But there was something weird with her voice - she couldn't place what, though.

Why? It's not like you have anything better to do, anyway.

"..."

Hey. Remember that list from earlier?

"..."

Isn't Feitan's tattoo somewhere on the bottom of the list? Judging from the list, the lower body parts experience lesser pain, right?

"I don't think the feet count," the bartender replied, warily watching the other figure. "Too bony."

Well, if it's not on his feet - I doubt he'll tattoo his own feet anyway - it's somewhere that doesn't hurt much, eh?

"... Your point?"

Is he scared of pain?

Rooke rolled her eyes. "First, your assumption that he wouldn't tattoo the spider on his feet is not concrete. If he had to tattoo it himself, since he's the tattooist and all, I think it'd make sense for him to do it on his feet. Maybe his inner ankles, too. Better reach. And it hurts more on the feet, doesn't it?"

It was the figure's turn to roll its eyes. Isn't that sort of disrespecting the spider? Putting a tattoo on such a dirty place? Plus, he'll probably have equal reach to his inner calves.

Rooke felt a little irritated. Scratch that, she was really annoyed. "I don't recall his tattoo's location being your issue," she growled. "Plus, there's a lot of other dirtier places on the human body."

Pfft. Why are you being so touchy? I don't recall you being so concerned about him, darling.

The dark room turned slightly redder. Black tiles turned to cold, deep red ones, and the maroon cushions emanated an angry aura. "Shut. Up," the bartender scowled. "And get out. You don't belong here."

The figure laughed. Neither do you.

"Are you alright?" A child's voice cut through Rooke's mind, bringing her back to reality, back to the small apartment. "You're making a weird face."

"Huh?" Rooke relaxed her facial muscles, not quite understanding the situation.

"What, can't take the pain?" Feitan asked, surprised. "I thought you could handle broken limbs."

"Eh? No, just continue." Rooke said, settling back to her previous position on the sofa.

The other members gave her a look, but Feitan continued with the tattooing. He was fast, and the tattoo would probably be done in two or three hours' time. Though, Rooke swore he went a little less deep into her skin this time, as it somewhat didn't hurt as much as before.

What a kind soul.

But wait, did that mean that earlier on he was pressing the needle in deeper than needed?! Rooke didn't quite know how to feel about that.

Three hours later, Rooke was dismissed to entertain herself while Kalluto was getting his tattoo. Of course, she wasn't permitted entry to the rest of Feitan's apartment - God knows what else is in there anyway - so Rooke was unhappily kicked out of the flat. Even though she was now officially a Troupe member.

Talk about hospitality. Che.

Because of that, the bartender now had approximately two to three hour's worth of wandering around the streets of Zaban City. It wasn't that bad, actually - there were plenty of people to steal stuff from - but the downside? Shady dealers. And scam artists. Somebody tried to sell Rooke an umbrella for eight hundred Jennis when it started drizzling. In the end, Rooke got that umbrella, though the seller ended up robbed and shoved into a trashcan in a less crowded alley. Pfft.

Rooke was considering entering a cafe by the roadside for a break, maybe pick up a magazine or two. But then, out of the corner of her eye she spotted an interesting antique shop with pretty little bottles in its display window. The somewhat rhyming half-assed shop name - Freak's Antiques - screamed 'bullsh*t' at her, but Rooke was bored. She had time to kill! So in she went.

And it was then that Rooke learnt the hard way to never step into suspicious looking stores.

As soon as Rooke stepped in, a putrid perfume assaulted her nostrils. But that she could put up with. Slowly Rooke surveyed the shop, scanning rows and shelves for items that might pique her interest. The shop was larger than it had looked from the outside, and rather dusty (another irritant for Rooke) but the bartender didn't quite want to leave just yet. If she left without finding something worthwhile, that'll waste her efforts of tolerating the pungent smell and the dust, no?

But then, just as luck would have it, Rooke caught a glimpse of something bright behind some shelves. Something red. Something that resembled an extremely flamboyant clown-like asshole whom she'd gladly try to put in the trash can. Rooke, after all, was vindictive. And she has an elephant's memory when it came to holding grudges. And that meant that Rooke hasn't forgotten that redhead's interference - Hisoka, was it? - back in Wildemont.

However, she needed a plan. Her past experience in the forest proved that this Hisoka asshole wasn't to be trifled with (not too much, anyway) and thus, Rooke stayed where she was, trying to think of a revenge plan. Did he know she was here? What was he doing here, anyway?!

"It's not nice to spy on others, you know~"

Oh well. At least one of her questions was answered. Rooke stepped towards the magician, and glared at him. "What are you doing here? And why the hell did you attack me the other time, man? That was clearly uncalled for!"

Hisoka grinned. "My, my. That's too many questions at once, little girl. But to answer your first question, I'm registering as a examiner for the next Hunter exam~ It's in three weeks' time. You should participate in the exam, you know. You'd do fine~"

Rooke raised an eyebrow at this. "They'd let someone who assaults people without notice execute the exam? And why would registration be here, of all places?!"

The magician laughed, and started to walk out. "That's because they're a little shorthanded this year, with the dark continent buzz and all. So I might have a higher chance of becoming an examiner~ Though, as I said, you should seriously consider joining the exam. Who knows, maybe I'll be lenient to you~"

"You seem more like the overkill type than the lenient type," Rooke scoffed. "And hey! Don't go yet, you haven't answered all of my questions!"

But the clown paid Rooke no mind. With a quick "see you then~", he was out the door; when Rooke went after him out of the shop, he was nowhere to be seen.

"You should participate in the Hunter exam, you'd do fine~"

"You should seriously consider joining the exam."

"See you then~"

The irritating magician's words were thoroughly bothering Rooke. Why did he think that she'd want to join the Hunter exam, anyway? Hisoka knew Rooke knew he was an examiner, and he knew Rooke disliked him. So why was he so bloody insistent just now, anyway?

Rooke sighed, and took a sip of her tea. What benefits would she get from the Hunter exam, anyway? It's not like she desperately needed money or something.

Though having a large sum of money would be nice.

But then, why go through all that effort when she could just steal? Rooke realised that she quite liked her current lifestyle. Minus the alcohol, anyway.

But just in case she was missing something important, she should check with the Troupe's only Hunter, right? Rooke briefly recalled it to be Shalnark.

Wait, Shalnark? Rooke remembered that there was something important linked to the blond, but couldn't quite remember what.

Then it hit her. Rooke owed Shalnark money for dubious reasons. And it was a big sum of money, at that. It was a sum of money that Rooke would have to get through multiple thefts.

Alternatively, Rooke realised, she could just go take the damned exam.

Hey guys! :D I apologise for the shorter chapter :x Anyway, school'll be starting in one or two weeks' time, and I'll probably become busy and sleep-deprived. Let's hope that doesn't happen, haha.

On a side note, I apologise if I haven't portrayed the Troupe members as what we all would like them to be - honestly I don't really know much about Chrollo and the rest (what a horrible fan I am haha) but really, if you guys have any headcanons about the troupe, please message me and maybe I can correct the story :)

And yes, Rooke knows Feitan knows about her crappy Chinese. You can check it out in earlier OMAKES - she found out he marked her workbook :)

Oh, and one more thing. From now on the OMAKES will not be solely about the nine day's journey, it will happen in 'daily life' - basically, anywhere and anytime. :D

And last but not least - thank you all for continually supporting this story and its author! It means a lot to me :) And thanks for the generous reviews, it made my week so much better :) Anyway, please do review! PMs and/or questions will be welcome too.

Now, without further ado - I present to you this chapter's OMAKE.

OMAKE

Feitan had just finished cooking a delicacy, and was about to pour its contents into a smaller bowl for consumption when Rooke walked into the kitchen. "Feitan, Danchou says he'll meet us here in Zaban when they're done over there," the bartender told the Chinese man, as she peered into the pot's contents. "What's that?" Rooke asked curiously.

The clay pot had a light brown translucent liquid, with a gelatinous thing floating in the middle, as well as what Rooke identified to be some red dates.

The shorter man set down his pot. "燕窝汤。[Bird's nest soup.] It's a Chinese delicacy." Just as the words slipped out from his mouth, he slightly regretted it; the bartender was peering more curiously at his pot of soup. His soup. It was obvious that Feitan was less than willing to share food with a newbie troupe member, or anyone in particular, really - much less what he considered a delicacy. However, he had a sudden thought: Rooke was a clean freak.

With that, the Chinese man's ingenuity got to work. Pair a clean freak with a bowl of bird's nest soup, what does one get? Now that would be interesting. Quickly, Feitan feigned annoyance at the new member. "What? You want some?" He sighed irritatedly.

The bartender was a little shocked at his sudden change in mood. Possessive much? Rooke thought. But that means that it's really good stuff, right? No one would get this possessive over crappy stuff. Damn, I wonder what it tastes like... Chinese delicacy...

Feitan smirked beneath his mask. His plan was clearly working. Cautiously, so as to deter detection, Feitan sighed annoyedly. "I'll give you a little," he grumbled. "Just this once. A little." Grudgingly the Chinese man scooped the pot's contents into two small bowls, and handed a bowl to Rooke.

Meanwhile, Rooke awkwardly accepted the bowl, and begun eating. The gelatinous structure felt really weird in her mouth; it was firm and yet, jelly-like at the same time. The flavour was weird, too. Quickly Rooke swallowed the entire structure, and slowly drank the soup till the bowl was empty. It was good manners to clear one's plate, right?

Feitan raised an eyebrow at this. He hadn't expected Rooke to finish the bowl so quickly - but it was no problem. In fact, that might just allow him to have more fun. After all, it was Chinese culture for the host to give second servings to people who have cleared their plates, and Feitan could always make another batch of bird's nest soup after this for himself.

Quickly he took the unsuspecting bartender's empty bowl away, and pressed his own untouched bowl firmly into her hands. "Eat," he more of demanded than suggested, and Rooke, not wanting to offend Feitan, innocently followed his instructions, though she was a little puzzled at his actions.

While Rooke was eating the delicacy, Feitan decided to start his fun. "You know, bird's nest soup is very good for the body?"

Rooke looked up mid-bite. "Huh?"

The Chinese man sat down, facing the bartender and studied her expressions. "It helps one's respiratory system and improves one's complexion. It's very expensive, though."

Rooke felt a little guilty upon hearing the last sentence. She wasn't really enjoying eating this delicacy, after all, but Feitan seemed to prize it so much. But in an effort to keep the conversation going, Rooke asked a question - a question that Feitan had been waiting for.

"What's this made up of?" Rooke asked curiously. "It's called bird's nest soup, but I don't see leaves or twigs in here. I mean, that's what bird's nests are made out of, right?"

Feitan smirked. Oh, wouldn't she love to know. "It's made out of bird spit," he said casually.

Bird what?! Rooke spluttered and coughed. Surely she had heard that wrongly! No, she must have heard wrongly. "Um, can you repeat yourself?" Rooke asked again, nervous, when she had recovered from her coughing fit.

Feitan leaned back against his chair, and repeated himself. "Bird spit. Bird. Saliva. Idiot." Oh boy, he was liking this.

Rooke's face went pale as she tried to register this new information in her brain. Essentially, what Feitan was saying is that she had just swallowed not one, but two servings of overglorified bird spit. Bird saliva. And she wasn't liking it.

"What did you- I just- bird spit!- Gross, ew, disgusting- In my mouth- You! You tricked me!" Rooke blurted out everything at once, feeling sick. Ugh, that tiny idiot! Infinitesimal asshole! She wanted to vomit the vile contents out, and rushed to Feitan's toilet, but for some reason she couldn't quite force it out. Rooke gagged, hunched over the toilet bowl. It didn't help that Feitan was laughing his ass off in the corner.

Meanwhile, when Feitan had recovered enough to get to his senses, he quickly took out his phone and snapped a picture of Rooke trying to regurgitate. He definitely wasn't going to let Rooke live this one down.