Gathering: Stage

August 8th

Lan fiddled with her sleeve, now trapped in a corridor of packed bodies.

Hundreds of hunters cramming into a building did nothing for her nerves. The amount of Nen flowing around her was wild; it messed with her ability to sense individuals, auras just a blob fluctuating mindlessly.

She thought more people would have skipped out on voting. Didn't matter that it was mandatory, she was sure that the Association would have to hunt down their pig-headed members or throw out some ultimatum to ensure attendance.

She certainly wouldn't have showed up to vote until threatened.

The only reason she was already there…

Instead of shredding leather with nails, her fist knocked a hole in the wall. Startled glances ended with her glare, malice slipping through to cover guilt.

She should have gone.

Knuckle, Morel, and Shoot, they all almost died fighting the Chimera Ants. Chairman Netero had died, and trying to fathom what could kill that old bastard… She should have been there for them. She hated that she hadn't been. She hated that Knuckle had been happy to see her when she had showed at the hospital. She hated that when she got there, she saw that those two fucking kids had fought the Chimera Ants, Gon with everything he had.

And what had she been doing? Clinging to Chrollo until he ditched her. Then hiding from her problems with Yan and Tai until a particularly bad night in Kou-Ang ended with her drunk enough to forget killing half-a-dozen Bai Ze members. To add insult to injury, she had missed a call from Chrollo and couldn't force herself to call back… which made her feel worse. She had chosen him over the Chimera mission, yet-

"Hey, little brat!"

Her blood iced over. A call down the hall, air shifting, sinking, crushing her lungs as slime oozed over her skin, she had never wanted to feel this again. Pastel green hair and a plunging neckline come into view. Sybil. Even with her aura as a barrier, she was drowning in an ocean determined to smother her. Sybil shoved aside the crowd, time taking its time as Lan watched in horror. She wasn't supposed to be here! Of all the people Lan expected to dutifully appear to vote, Sybil was the last fucking person on that list. Right up there with the Spiders.

Sybil wouldn't- No, actually, she would. The woman had peeled open a train like a can before throwing it at Hisoka, everyone else be damned. Sybil knocked aside Hunters without care. She'd fight them all if it meant getting to Lan.

Her back pressed to the wall as Sybil stepped in front of her, fury in her eyes.

"Where the hell is that bastard hiding?"

Lan felt the color rush from her face. Sybil didn't have the decency to speak in Anchian to keep the conversation possibly private. No, nearly everyone looked to the commotion, devouring the scene with curiosity. One wrong word from this idiot's mouth and her connection to the Phantom Troupe was common knowledge to the entire Association. She was having flashbacks to her stupid Heaven's Arena stunt. Something to shut her up, anything to shut her up-

"Well?" Sybil's Ren flared with the promise to make the building an outdoor space if need be. Lan's chest felt like bursting under leaded weight. She couldn't sputter a response more than spike her aura to offset the pressure. Hard to think without breathing. "Where is he?" Sybil repeated, hazel eyes narrowed with her snarl. "You're his plaything or something, right? Have his number?"

"No," she forced out, wholly unconvincing. Sybil didn't need to be convinced. Lan could see the hostage-taking coming no matter her response. For as dumb as she could be, Sybil kept close watch. Even if Nemmi wasn't waiting outside, he couldn't save her now. There would be no surprise attack followed by fleeing and hiding.

"You're going to call him." Sybil's fury slipped to a pout, attention flickering to her clothes- a stepdown in quality from her previous. "Machi won't even talk to me," Sybil complained, loudly. So many eyes burning holes. A name was already too much. "Like, I haven't heard a thing from any of the Phant-"

She stomped on Sybil's foot with every bit of stupidity she had.

An arm over her shoulders and Arri bristled. Aura protecting pale skin against razor edges, Sybil staring dumbly, Lan wanted to disappear now more than ever. She did, however, relax, one crisis averted and replaced by something more manageable. Golden eyes filled with satisfaction when their gazes met.

Hisoka gave up his hold on her shoulder to worm his way between her and the wall, position awkward and intrusive, but she expected no less from him. The price of protection, she supposed. She imagined he wore a wickedly curved smile as he held her against him.

"You!" Sybil yelled over Hisoka's greeting, pointing a finger for emphasis. A finger that conveniently would have ended up in Lan's eye had she not leaned further into Hisoka's chest.

The excited wave in Sybil's aura knotted Lan's stomach. Gawking Hunters that may have otherwise passed out or turned tail worsened the situation by using Nen to protect themselves. Then Hisoka, his lessened as she pulled back Arri to a harmless layer. She hated that without his bloodlust aimed at her, his sticky aura almost felt relieving. Almost.

"We never quite finished our fight," Hisoka said with some actual disappointment. She almost stomped on his foot for trying to make her grind against him. "Want to step outside?"

Sybil's eyes seared a hole through Lan as she debated. It didn't take a genius to know Lan would disappear the second Sybil's attention left her. Her eyes lit when she looked back to Hisoka, priorities ever absent. Words were left hanging on an open mouth.

"Oh, Sybil," someone called from further up the hall. Like an owner calling to a dog, voice condescending underneath the cheer, Sybil's brow twitched. Her hand dropped to her side. A blond man in a colorful suit, smile eerily fake, waited for her down the hall. Hisoka set his chin on Lan's head, leaning forward with much too much interest.

This man was someone to avoid, then. She had learned her lesson about getting involved with Hisoka's targets.

"Fucking Pariston," Sybil hissed under her breath, turning on her heel to march to the rat himself. Lan snorted in a failed attempt to hide a laugh. Sybil whipped around, warning, "Shut it or I'll kill you!" The note taped to Sybil's back screamed punishment for the train incident, though 'Vote Pariston' showed exactly how she maintained Hunter status despite her terrorizing the general populace and working for mob bosses.

Hisoka hummed, shocking her as he released his hold and allowed her to step away. They rejoined the line, side by side, glares and malignant auras dispersing attention.

His back hit the wall as Sybil passed, the woman knocking aside anyone remotely in her path. Roeis glared at her back, pardon from the rat Zodiac infuriating.

That violent exchange down the hall ignited fire. Lanfen Paijin at the center of the show, his suspect number one in the murders of Lino and Bando. Sybil Delphi recently on probation for derailing and throwing a train bound for Cenvien, for killing a number of innocent passengers, seeking something from the Paijin heir. And, added to the Fan Shi- Paijin drama, Hisoka, the clown that had been a flick of the wrist away from murdering an examiner.

They were three Hunters that needed to be purged from the Association and properly charged for their numerous crimes. If Pariston won the election, nothing would be done. Nothing adequate was already being done.

Roeis needed to do something.

Stumbling away from the wall, face painted with false bafflement and a touch of fear, he looked to the Hunter behind him with wide eyes. "Who was that?" he asked, other man's attention captured.

"Sybil Delphi." The man glanced down the hall, making sure she was nowhere near earshot. "You must be new if you haven't seen that witch parading around like a diva. She's a Blacklist Hunter that is specifically after the Phantom Troupe." He scoffed at the idea, adding, "Have to be crazy to be doing that."

"Definitely." They were another group that Roeis wanted to hunt down. But another day, because he would admit they were too much for him to take on alone while in a corrupt system. "And, you got me! I'm definitely new." Lying always left a bad taste in his mouth, even little white lies that were a necessary evil. "How long have you been a Hunter?"

"A few years."

Too evasive. He needed something a bit more concise or more answers. Well, as assurance. His command wasn't too complex and vague answers were still answers. Yet, Nen could be fickle, and always best to ere on the side of caution—as Isma often reminded. "But Sybil, a Blacklist Hunter, huh? Her aura really has a nasty feel to it, doesn't it?" In fact, a lot of nearby Hunters dealt with the maelstrom of bloody aura by using Ten. As did Roeis. Initially. With the worse of it over, he maintained it as a cover.

The man nodded. Non-verbal answers were weak. A few more, then. "Those other two aren't much better."

Perfect.

"Any idea who she was talking to?" The man shook his head, conversation sealed, excuse given for Roeis to take a half-step closer into the man's personal space. He lowered his voice, spoke more covertly. "You see the tall guy with red hair?" A mumbled yeah made Roeis almost smile. "His name is Hisoka. No idea what he exactly does as a Hunter, just that he was not pleasant during the exam." The other man gave him the suspicious side eye, Roeis quickly tacking on, "According to rumor, anyway." He gave a mental sigh of relief when the Hunter didn't step away. Making a scene would draw her attention. "I bet, standing next to him, is a young woman named Lanfen. Black hair, small, cute like a fox."

The tap of Roeis' hand on the man's set his spine rod straight. Panicked eyes stared forward, body and words lost under the will of a manipulator's Nen.

Roeis kept his voice low, drawing a final breath. "I want you to call this number," he said, listing his number, continuing on the same breath, "and stay on the line so I can hear, all while standing behind Hisoka and Lanfen." A mouthful of a command, but simple enough to follow.

The order issued, the man fished his phone out of his pocket, silently dialing, blown out pupils fearful. It must feel disgusting to heedlessly follow orders. But, again, the request was small. The only way it would have failed was if the man had such incredible phone anxiety that the simple task became unusually arduous. A request in-character always ensured its fulfillment.

"Thank you," Roeis said, bad taste lingering in his mouth, "and I'm sorry about this."

But he needed evidence, and this was a necessary evil.

"Pity." Hisoka's smile disappeared briefly as he sulked. "I wanted someone to fight." Relieving words to someone he usually tried to provoke on sight.

"So that's why you're here." He was another Lan didn't expect to see at such a mundane affair, though perhaps she should have. Grand majority of Hunters in one place, he must be a kid in a candy store. Maybe he came just for the spectacle of the Zodiacs gathered in one place.

"You know me so well, darling." He turned, swinging gold catching her eye. Earrings. With little hearts on the end. They were kind of cute, actually. A finger bopped her nose, her attention shooting from his face. So, he poked her cheek instead, nail not digging into skin as harshly as usual. "I didn't expect to find you here. Such a pleasant surprise."

Did he not know about the chimera ants? About Gon? She thought the kid was another unfortunate favorite of his. "I was seeing friends." Before he dared comment 'you have friends?' she added, "Thank you." Her eyes darted to the side again, hiding from his raised eyebrows. "For distracting Sybil." He looked incredulous rather than appreciative. She didn't say thank you often. In fact… "And for your help with the Fan Shi," she whispered despite meaning it. He had helped. Immensely. Chrollo wouldn't have been able to contact the Spiders without Hisoka and without them…

Her fingers brushed down her right arm. God Complex was as forgiving as any sloppy Nen condition. She would have died after that fight. And Minji would have let her. She was so lucky she didn't obliterate Nemmi with it…

"It would be a problem if you died."

A somewhat serious tone tricked her into looking at him. "For who?" she asked as he managed to maintain a flat expression.

The Cheshire grin snapped back into place as he cheerfully declared, "For me, of course." He made her roll her eyes. Again, she should lower her expectations. He may care… for a total of thirty seconds before moving on to a still-breathing target. Hell, he may forget about her while she was still alive if his fickle interest waned enough.

She wanted that, now. It'd be easier than maintaining his interest to stay alive or watching him get killed by the Spiders.

The line crept forward, silence between them. She would call it pleasant, yet, Hisoka, on his best behavior, he wanted something. Or was up to something. Both. A brief glance with Gyo revealed a lack of gum. He noticed, of course, but he only offered an innocent smile at her suspicions.

"That was cruel, you know." He pouted, voice so hurt the Hunter in front of them turned to gawk. Until he relearned his lesson on not gawking at sour-mood Lan. "All alone," Hisoka moaned, "in the middle of a desert. I could have died."

"I just stabbed you." A little stab wound meant nothing to the guy that let his arms get chopped off for fun. His arena matches were fun to watch… Tipsy Lan made worse decisions than blackout drunk Lan, if only because she remembered more. She needed to distance herself, not watch his matches with the reverent awe that got her into this mess.

"You poisoned me."

"I told you exactly what it did." He couldn't even complain 'but anaphylaxis.' She had stuck around long enough to see he wasn't violently allergic to the venom. "And, if you had bled out, it would have been your own fault." The scariest part of using that poison was that he could still use Nen. She had expected to struggle to get away, even if he was effectively paralyzed. But he let her leave. His odd behavior persisted from then to now. "You had that wound closed within a half second of realizing it was there."

"So cruel," he whined. Fake hurt annoyed her into facing forward again.

A raised arm made her tense. A finger toying with her hair drew attention to black locks in another silent question. Before waltzing into a den of Hunters, she had remembered to grab her wig and makeup. Pitiful as far as disguises went, especially since she didn't bother with a different outfit, leather jacket with cute little skull buttons that Auntie had sewn on just for her no exception, but she couldn't be bothered to put forth the added effort. The wig also happened to help hide the awkwardness of growing out her hair again, and the makeup somewhat masked the dark circles under her eyes. Knuckle would only try to comfort her more.

Maybe the slight changes were all he wanted to point out. Hisoka had done the same. The addition of earrings, the purple and yellow of his clothes complimenting his now more-red-than-pink hair and ever gold eyes, and his latest style of jester clothes flattering on him in some strange way.

She hated that she could still see him as physically attractive.

"Get any new tattoos recently?"

"No," she snapped, slapping his hand from her hair. He could have asked her what her underwear looked like, or, hell, asked for her to strip then and there, and that would have pissed her off less. She wanted to go one interaction without Chrollo being the subject of his attention. Because that always lead to the question of the Phantom Troupe and she just didn't… She didn't have an answer.

He ignored the cue to step away and drop the subject. Instead, he leaned in, arm snaking around her waist to prevent escape as his lips nearly pressed to her ear. "I want to speak with you somewhere more private later."

Chrollo was indeed all he wanted. "Shut up," she hissed over his next words. There would be no later. She punctuated her, "No." with an elbow to his ribs. His laugh as he let her go ignited more fury.

The gawking-again Hunter was tossed by the shirt collar at Hisoka to cover her escape. Hisoka stepped out of the way, the Hunter crashing into another, that man's phone shattering on tile. Her attention went forward when Hisoka remained in place. "See you later, fledgling. I promise," he called after her, snapping her patience in two. She kept walking, and she would keep walking until they were out of each other's sight.

Complaints of her cutting ahead suffocated under her soured aura promising to maim further irritants. She should have stayed at the hospital. Even if everyone was asleep to leave her alone in that depressing sterile hellscape, she should have stayed.

"Hey, Lanfen?"

Her footsteps trailed to a stop. Familiar. Annoying. She glanced over her shoulder to meet another nuisance: exam boy. He stood with his head titled, puppy brown eyes revealing the discomfort he tried to hide. Awkward, waiting for a response, he fiddled to put his phone in his pocket. Eventually, he learned silence was the only answer he would earn.

"That much bloodlust is going to draw more attention to you, you know?" She stared at him blankly. Further up the line she went, then. "Sybil might come back," he added, her steps once again dragging to a halt.

He had been watching. She didn't like that. Didn't like him. She controlled seething bloodlust since he regrettably made a good point. But why bother? The distaste was mutual. He should have let her attract Sybil right back to her. For the other Hunters' sakes? Those on the weaker side certainly felt uncomfortable, perhaps even pained, by the nauseating combination of Sybil's, Hisoka's, and her aura over short succession. Exam boy wasn't that weak, with his aura once again a barrier to hers.

"You must be in a hurry to get out of here." So pleasant and helpful, he set off alarm bells. He didn't approve of her display, now and previously. "Want a spot in front of me?"

"No."

"It'd make less of a commotion, you know?"

Didn't care. Disgust at the offer didn't dissuade. More questions on the tip of his tongue, she ignored him like she should have from the beginning.

She hoped one vote would be all that was necessary to name a chairman. Sticking around decreased her survival odds.

The trash bin fell to the ground, metallic clatter ringing out, damned sign mockingly sliding back to Sybil's feet. She ripped it off the ground, shredding it since crumpling it had failed. Her public shaming was done. The sign could die now.

What she wouldn't give to see a mob tear that rat bastard to pieces…

Maybe she could incite a mob! Nobody really liked Pariston— disregarding his literal fan club, as they were clearly stupid. Her face scrunched when she realized a mob would, like, turn on her just as fast. If killing civilians got on the Association's nerves, then scores of Hunters would have her ejected. It'd be bye-bye license and all its benefits.

And that, that wouldn't have been a problem if the mafia wasn't still in shambles over the Dons' deaths.

So, fuck Pariston and fuck Chrollo.

Know what? Fuck Lanfen, too. Little brat managed to worm her way to safety between a clown and spiders.

As the last shreds of cardboard floated to her feet, the footsteps behind her stopped, the person trailing her finally leaving the shadows.

"Sybil Delphi."

She turned to face her braindead stalker. They had to have noticed her mood. They had to have realized that they'd be pulled apart. So why insist? She gave them plenty of opportunity to scurry away to pester someone else. They were probably just another Hunter less-than-pleased with her behavior. Like the most nondescript guy asking her endless questions earlier—mostly about the exchange with Hisoka and Lanfen. Only reason he escaped death was Isma what's-his-name at his back, glaring the threat of license shredding. Like, she didn't need him on her case because he would actually hunt her down. Old man was up there with Botobai when it came to cranky old Hunters with morals.

A random stalker calling her out like they were asking for civil conversation and a business deal pissed her off, though.

High-collared jacket with accents of red, skin pale, eyes dull, this cheap vampire double had no reason to be bothering her.

A hand on her hip with dark aura churning around her, she wished everyone was as jumpy as Lanfen. The woman in front of her unflinchingly stood her ground. Stupidity rooted her in place. Or maybe she was a corpse under the control of a manipulator? Sybil had seen that before, in Chrollo's little band of bugs. "So, like, what do you want?"

"You hold a grudge against the Phantom Troupe. We-"

"Don't tell me," Sybil interrupted, flowery speech be damned as she held back laughter. "You're looking for revenge?" There were hundreds of people looking to end the Troupe. Only two had taken members. A mystery assailant in Yorknew and Silva Zoldyck- and the Zoldycks no longer took contracts on them. Unless we included some major talent, screw even listening. "Why the hell would I-"

Her mouth hung open, vacuum pulling at her feet, hair whipping to the side. Everything not tied to the floor rushed towards a center point. Nen ate a section of the wall beside her. A pebble hit the ground as the aura dispersed, the perfect circle creating a crater under its odd weight. The woman dropped her arm back to her side.

Well, never mind.

She loathed working with others. But, that said, Sybil was also lazy, and they were free labor. Once she knew where Chrollo was, she'd ditch them or feed them to the Spiders as a distraction. Or fight them for a bit of fun. Whatever came first. Because that little show at least proved one wasn't wholly useless. Its not like she had much else going on with the election trapping her here.

"Okay, so, what do you want?"

Agnello flicked ash onto Haven's paper, burning a hole through the pretty face of the woman meticulously drawn over the last half-hour. Like the teen they were, Haven crumpled ruined work before tossing it in his face. Followed by a Nen-laced pen that he dodged by a hair's width.

"How'd you manage to convince Miwa to leave you alone again?"

Haven shoved the table into his hip on their way to retrieve the pen from the wall. "Sybil is volatile." Says the kid that just tried to kill him over a drawing. They pulled their sweater collar down to talk without the muffle, subject surprisingly acceptable. "I would be a liability in a battle of brute force."

Agnello raised an eyebrow. Really? That pen toss showed they weren't fully inept when it came to using Nen as more than a cheap intimidation tactic. Must have sacrificed combat capabilities when making a Hatsu. Made sense, given the kid's age. Heavy restrictions and limitations, he wouldn't be surprised if their ability was solely for use against the Troupe. Miwa probably knew more but getting information from either of them was bleeding a stone.

"Sybil worth anything else?" Brute might be a better word than witch with that woman. Her looks probably saved her from it. Though, no matter how attractive, Agnello didn't like that level of crazy. Just a little bite that could be beaten out if necessary. "From what I've heard, she's a nightmare to work with. Especially with low-paying jobs." Ten Dons' only used her as a last resort with her considerable price tag. And this job had a bounty paycheck heavily outweighed by the difficulty involved. More of a satisfaction reward than a monetary one.

"Not much." Haven dropped the subject like the segue it was. "I would like to have someone more intelligent, yet someone I can still control."

"How highly you think of me! A smart idiot you can use as an errand boy."

"You are."

His outburst got zero reaction beyond that. Bratty kid, demanding things like they were in charge and not even humoring his attempts at friendliness. "You'd look cuter with a smile, sweetheart," he added, looking for a raw nerve to strike. "Unless you're a guy, because I don't swing like that."

Haven frowned, stalking across the room to escape now that they'd dispensed orders. "You would be more tolerable if you learned to be respectful or kept your mouth shut," they mumbled, sweater collar back up to signal conversation definitely over.

"You and Miwa are such downers." And temperamental. Combined with the broodiness, he was fairly sure Haven was a fourteen or fifteen -year-old girl— that, and, well, he really hoped he wasn't hitting on a guy on accident. "But fine, kid. I'll go see what else I can find lying around."

This election the Hunter Association was putting on made for a pristine recruitment pool. Be a shame to waste it.

A/n: If anyone's curious, Lan's drunken brawl started on her way out a Kou-Ang club district. She just wanted to go sleep off the alcohol at the zoo while cuddled up to the fluffiest animals she could find. You know, as you do, as she has done enough to have a reputation amongst zoo staff. Some Bai Ze weirdos happened to be between her and fluff, so…

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