I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
Summary: It's tradition amongst some Italian police precincts to send rookie officers to Varia Mansion to exchange information. Some officers make it out, some don't, and Georgie isn't sure which category he'll fall into. He does know one thing. This experience is going to be terrifying, and will also dictate whether or not he's cut out to be an officer in this particular jurisdiction.
An Officer's Observation
Georgie Amarz wasn't a stranger to initiation. He'd been initiated on his first day of high school by his older brother, and he'd been initiated on his first day at the police academy. Neither of these events were particularly pleasant but he also wouldn't call them traumatizing.
This so-called initiation, courtesy of his senior colleagues, was different. Georgie wasn't just expecting it to be traumatizing. He wasn't expecting to survive this little errand he'd been sent on. One would have to be a fool to believe they would leave Varia Mansion still breathing.
Swallowing thickly, he parked his cruiser just to the side of the wrought-iron gates that separated the grand estate from the rest of the world. He climbed out and walked slowly to the speaker embedded in the brick post that supported the elegant gates. His posture was tense as his eyes darted about in paranoia.
He'd heard the horror stories of Vongola's independent assassination squad. It was impossible not to, in his line of business. Everyone in the Italy police force knew of the Vongola Famiglia, even if they didn't necessarily know exactly what business they conducted. But they were powerful, untouchable by law, and it was this fact that caused the tentative truce to form many years ago.
That's why he was here, standing by the intercom with a nervous expression on his face. The Varia had some case files that would be of great use to his department and, since no one from the Varia delivered (his partner had broken into laughter when he asked) he was the poor soul to pick it up.
"All I ask is that I keep my limbs," he whispered to himself before pressing the button. He waited a few beats before someone answered.
"Voi! Who the eff are you and what do you want?"
Amazed that the amount of volume did not cause the speaker to explode, Georgie tried to keep his voice as steady as possible as he said, "I'm Officer Amarz. I'm-"
"Here to arrest someone?"
Taken aback, Georgie hastily assured, "No, sir! I'm here to pick up the case files my boss requested. Um…I think he called ahead-"
"Ah, damn," the man grumbled, sounding genuinely putout that no one would be hauled off to jail. "That crap."
The speaker crackled as he hung up and Georgie blinked, uncertain if he'd just been dismissed or if he was supposed to wait for the gates. It was a relief and a disappointment when the iron bars parted- relief because his boss would have his head if he returned with nothing, and disappointment that he'd have to venture into their territory.
Here we go, he thought warily, beginning the walk up the long path. He reached the front door and raised his knuckles to knock. Before he could make contact the heavy oak door swung open and he stumbled back in surprise.
A man with long silver hair stood before him, a sneer on his face and his eyes, which were cold orbs, glinted with ire. "Can't you morons compile your own damn case files?"
"We don't have as much information as you do," replied Georgie carefully. Because unlike you, we can't threaten, coerce, bribe or torture people. But he didn't say his thoughts out loud- he didn't have a death wish. "But we greatly appreciate-"
"Don't effing care," cut in Squalo. He stepped to the side, eyes narrowed into slits, and Georgie ventured inside the mansion, trying to keep his expression neutral. He couldn't show fear among these people, even if his insides were shaking.
He stepped into the foyer, eyes quickly taking in the shiny gold tiles, sleek marble walls and domed ceiling from which a crystal chandelier hung, casting a shimmering reflection. A winding black-carpeted staircase connected the foyer to the second floor, the slim golden banister set neatly atop an intricate design of metal.
The décor was very elegant, and in Georgie's opinion, did not fit the residents who lived here.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer."
Squalo's mocking voice startled him from his observing, a dull red flush crossing his cheeks. "You have a beautiful home."
"It's a dump," the man dismissed shortly. "Wait here while I get the file. Don't effing move, and if you want to continue living, don't make eye contact with anyone that comes through."
Georgie did not have time to respond, for Squalo stormed off, exiting through the archway at the end of the foyer. He bit down on his bottom lip, eyes darting about. He wasn't sure if he should feel relieved for finally being left alone, because Squalo's deadly aura was certainly suffocating. But if any of the other members happened across his way…
Well, he didn't really want to think about it.
But as the minutes passed by, the mansion was oddly silent. Georgie slowly began to relax, suddenly hopeful that perhaps the others were on some sort of mission, or caught up in a television show. Maybe this was his lucky break. Maybe he would make it out in one piece after all.
Just as the optimistic thought crossed his mind, all hell broke loose.
"Agghh! You effing piece of crap, I'm gonna kill you!"
Georgie jolted at the fierce bellow, eyes widening nervously and swivelling his gaze towards the stairs. A bout of cackling sounded and another male voice taunted, "I don't know why you're so angry Bel-sempai. It's a good look for you."
"Frog, when I get out of here…"
The threat was left unfinished, but Georgie's brain was already coming up with a dozen gory torture scenarios for the brave soul who dared to mess with the legendary Prince the Ripper.
A cloud of black and indigo mist suddenly formed a few feet away, causing Georgie to stumble back in surprise. He gaped at the figure that soon appeared, a skinny boy with a smirk on his pale face. The child did not seem to notice the police officer, his green eyes trained steadily towards the second-floor landing.
Georgie stared at the frog hood that rested securely on the child's head, realizing quickly that this was the brave soul who had ticked off Prince the Ripper. I don't believe it, he thought, stunned. I knew the guys had told me the Varia got a new recruit, but I thought they were joking when they said he was a kid!
But it seemed that the rumours were true. The Varia's illusionist-in-training could not have been older than twelve, and Georgie felt a flare of concern for his well-being. Surely a child would be no match for Belphegor, an experienced and ruthless assassin.
"Fran!"
The blonde prince himself appeared on the second-floor landing, dripping wet and a towel wrapped tightly around his waist. His hair was plastered to his face, and his whole body was covered in clumps of pasty flour and globs of what seemed to be syrup.
"My my, Bel-sempai," drawled Fran, crossing his arms over his chest. "Someone ought to teach you how to bathe properly."
Georgie didn't know where the knives came from. But suddenly six of them were in Belphegor's hand and in the next second they were flying through the air with deadly accuracy. Fran transported himself out of the way, but not before three knives embedded into his hood. The officer barely had time to gasp as the three silver projectiles flew towards him, forcing him to duck.
Schink!
One of the knives skimmed his ear, cutting a chunk of hair off as it sailed past. Georgie was frozen for a brief moment, heart thudding madly in his chest. He slowly turned his head, staring at the clump of sandy brown hair that had been separated from his head.
Fran reappeared in front of the archway near the foot of the stairs. Three knives jutted out from his hood but his expression did not change, nor did he make any sounds of pain. His smirk widened and he mocked, "I think you should retire. Your aim isn't what it used to be."
"You little sh-"
Belphegor raced down the stairs and Fran quickly took off with a cackle. The blonde was in pursuit, leaving a trail of water and flour as he went. Georgie moved until his back pressed against the wall, hands trembling at his sides.
He'd been foolish to feel concern for the one called Fran. He should have known that the child had what people called Varia Quality. The Varia would accept no less. The only person he should feel concern for was himself.
"Stand still Frog! I'm gonna skewer you!"
"Try it, Fake Prince."
Georgie watched in bemusement as the two ran laps around the mansion, shouting and screaming. On their fifth trip through the foyer a tall man with a beard showed up in the other archway, blocking the two from leaving.
"Knock it off, brats!" he bellowed.
"Make us, Old Geezer," shot back Fran, not batting an eye when another four knives embedded into his back.
Georgie was distracted from the confrontation by a glint of green light. He stared at the man's ring and his jaw fell open when he discovered that it was sparking with strange green flames.
What the-?
Before he could begin to speculate on what was about to happen, Fran and Belphegor suddenly flung themselves to the floor at the same moment Levi clapped his hands together.
Boom!
Georgie cried out in panic as crackling green light exploded throughout the room. A sizzling heat seemed to wash over him for a brief instant, a harsh pop sounding to his immediate right. Breathing heavily, he looked around and noticed scorch marks burned into the floor and walls. There was a particular large mark next to his leg, almost as if…
A lightning strike happened. He just used his ring to channel freaking lightning.
"What the hell?" snapped Belphegor. His feud with Fran momentarily forgotten, he climbed to his feet, adjusting his towel. "What's your problem, Levi?"
"My problem is you two!" the man growled. "You're always effing around and screwing with each other. Belphegor, you are twenty-one-years-old. Start effing acting like it."
"You dare to talk to royalty like that?"
"He probably wouldn't, if you were actually royalty," drawled Fran.
Georgie watched the unfolding argument with wide eyes. It was like watching a circus show gone horribly wrong- you wanted to look away, but you couldn't. He hoped Squalo would return soon, because he'd nearly been struck by lightning and impaled by a knife, and that was all unintentional. He didn't want to imagine what would happen if they actually noticed him.
"What is going on in here?"
A tall man with a multi-coloured mohawk strode into the foyer, gloved hands set on his hips. His eyes were covered by tinted glasses, but the air seemed to chill several degrees. Fran, Belphegor and Levi stopped fighting and were now regarding the flamboyant man with wary gazes.
"The runts will clean up, Luss," said Levi hastily.
"We're not the ones who caused an indoor lightning storm," pointed out Fran.
"I'm not cleaning up crap," snorted Belphegor.
Lussuria moved swiftly behind the two young members and gripped their ears. "Oh, you'll clean up," he said softly. "I am not mopping these floors again."
"It's not even my fault," complained Belphegor, voice bordering on a whine. He reached out and smacked Fran in the face. "It's the twerp's! He poured this crap on me while I was trying to take a shower!"
"You should have dried off before you came after me," replied Fran, flinching slightly at the pressure Lussuria was putting on his ear.
"I don't care what happened, the two of you will make this room spic and span. Or else."
"What about Old Geezer?" demanded Belphegor. "He's the one who electrocuted the place."
"Only to shut you losers up," retorted Levi.
"Levi-chan will clean up his mess too," cut in Lussuria smoothly.
"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"
"Figure it out."
Georgie did not hear what Levi said next, if he said anything at all. The room had suddenly grown dark, so that he could not see his own hand in front of his face. His ears were ringing with screams, shrill screams that caused his blood to run cold. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he-
"Is that really necessary?"
Fran's voice permeated the darkness and suddenly the light returned. Georgie blinked blearily, trying to regain his bearings. He realized he was curled up in the fetal position on the floor, goosebumps prickling over his flesh.
Oh…I don't feel good.
He sat up and stared across the foyer, where a man wearing a long cloak now stood. He immediately recognized him as the Varia's illusionist, and he realized that the terrifying sensation he had just experienced was an illusion. He surveyed the other Varia members, who barely looked affected by what had just occurred.
These people are monsters.
"Oi, I've been looking for you," said Mammon in irritation. "We have training to do."
"I would have been there sooner, but I got held up," quipped Fran. "Luss wants me to clean."
"You can clean later."
"No, he cannot clean later," snapped Lussuria. "If we leave the water for too long it will damage the floor!"
"Luss, I guarantee you are the only one who cares," returned Mammon in a bored tone.
"Hey, if Froggy isn't cleaning, I sure as hell isn't."
"I am not cleaning up their mess," snapped Levi. "No effing way."
Another bout of bickering erupted, yells and shouts and curses overlapping in an incomprehensible mess. Georgie at them, trying to comprehend how these people, who fought like children, were members of the legendary Varia. Belphegor was trying to punch Fran in the nose, Fran in turn was trying pull on the prince's hair and Levi, Lussuria and Mammon were yelling at one another.
But then the two illusionists suddenly stiffened and turned their heads towards the archway that linked the foyer to the main hall. Before they could utter a warning, Xanxus appeared, crimson eyes sparking with anger, gun in hand.
"Shut the eff up!" he roared, and unleashed all hell, the gunshots echoing throughout the foyer in a deafening manner.
Heart in his throat, Georgie flattened down to the floor, arms wrapped around his head and knees tucked against his chest. He could feel his own gun pressing into his side, but he was not an idiot. Not in a million years would he dare to go up against Xanxus.
As he cowered, the Varia members scattered. Fran and Mammon hastily disappeared in a swell of Mist waves. Levi and Lussuria darted through the third archway and into the drawing room, whereas Belphegor made a mad dash up the stairs.
When all of his men were out of sight, Xanxus stopped, lowering his gun with a scowl. "Trash," he growled. "Can't shut up for a damn moment."
His eyes then strayed to the unfamiliar figure shaking against the wall. Georgie slowly looked up, face white as he locked eyes with the Varia boss. He tried to form words, but his throat was dry and his tongue would not cooperate.
"Who the eff are you?" demanded Xanxus. But he did not wait for an answer, raising his gun and pointing the barrel at his target.
I should not have gotten out of bed today, thought Georgie helplessly.
"Voi!"
Squalo appeared in the foyer a split second before Xanxus was about to shoot. The raven-haired man paused and turned to glare at his second-in-command. "Who the eff is he?"
"An errand boy for the cops," returned Squalo. "Do you know how much paperwork I would have had to do if you had shot him?"
"Not my problem."
Squalo took his first good look around the room, noticing the smoking bullet holes in the walls and floor. "What the hell is wrong with you, crap boss?!"
"The scum were being too noisy." Xanxus reared back and slammed the handle of his gun into the top of Squalo's head. "Shut up and get me a whisky."
Squalo let go of the beige file folder to rub at his aching skull. "I'm not doing crap for you!"
"I said, get me a whisky!" snarled Xanxus, pointing the gun threateningly between the silver-haired man's eyes.
As the two fell into a violent fight, Georgie crept forwards and snagged the file. He shot to his feet and raced out of the mansion, bursting out into the sunlight and tearing across the lawn for his car, heart thudding madly in his chest and sweat dripping down his neck. He practically catapulted himself over the gates and raced to his cruiser.
I'm alive. I made it. I'm alive.
In the back of his traumatized mind, it registered that the Varia were not quite as he imagined. They were certainly murderous and short-tempered and sadistic, but they were also very much a family, if the way they argued and messed with each other was any indication.
Georgie didn't understand how, but that little fact only made them even more terrifying.
I'm going to have nightmares of illusions, knives, gunshots and lightning for weeks…
