Heart to Heart: Face to Face

Heart in her throat, she choked. She stood in the doorway, frozen, sluggish mind reeling. Nemmi screeched.

Hisoka.

"Don't act so surprised," he said, pouting with mock offense. A flick of his nail collapsed a card tower precariously built on the windowsill. Visible Bungee Gum collected the cards into a neat pile, another flourish of his hands making the deck vanish. "I promised, didn't I?"

She swallowed down shock, exasperation and exhaustion too much. "Your promises don't mean much," she mumbled, petting Nemmi to keep him from spurring an actual confrontation. She didn't have the will to fight Hisoka right now. Ignoring him, she sat on the couch, wanting to sink into too-firm cushions. Instead, she curled into herself, hands twisting in her lap. "What do you want?" To talk, he had said. She didn't believe him.

"To talk."

Her eyes drifted to him, his tone off. Serious, not his usual lying sing-song. Doubt remained. As would he, since she had no way to remove him besides playing along. "About?" Chrollo, probably. Aggravation joined defeated exhaustion. She didn't want to talk about him, especially with Hisoka. Somehow, he had consumed her life despite his absence. She felt like the star of a half-ass romance subplot in an action movie.

"Why, you, fledgling." He joined her on the couch, sitting in the corner with as much distance as possible between them. As he crossed a leg over the other, she shot him a glance, wary of his sudden respect towards personal space. "Do you love him?"

She stood, listening be damned. As much as she wanted to remove his odd, no smile, expression, hitting him would ignite something worse.

"Fledgling, do you really think he loves you like you do him?"

Her fists clenched at her side, aura about to snap through her restraint, she hissed, "Shut up." Of all the fucking people to lecture her about love…

"How sweet, you do." No overkill sweetness, no sweetness at all, bitter disappointment reigned.

She expected a taunt, an insult, anything to strike nerves for amusement. Not silence. She expected him to force her back to his side, to manhandle her until she broke. Not inaction. It had been some time since he played mental over physical games with her.

"And you do?"

She glanced at him, his grin bright as he replied, "But of course. I love you, darling. I've told you more than once, haven't I?" With his hand soon after crushing her throat. Not that she didn't believe him… He had a twisted sense of love that bred hatred. Maybe she just resented that it was incompatible with her own. "Chrollo is as capable of loving someone as I am."

No. Maybe. She wanted to believe he could love her as she did him. Desperately so. But, in the end, her doubts made her hesitant. Almost hesitant enough to accept Chrollo's offer to escape.

She shouldn't go back to him. It was always easier to run from intimacy than to trust someone. Why she even tried with Chrollo when she had left Yun… On a scale of good to evil, she left an angel for a demon. And that demon and her had a combined emotional intelligence of a two out of ten.

"What do you want, Hisoka?" How fall she had fallen, humoring love advice from him. Yet, Hisoka had seen Chrollo in the context of leader. Chrollo seemed to act parts and borrow traits from those surrounding him. A social chameleon. Like her.

"To keep you alive long enough for you to mature," he answered, brutally honest his love didn't exempt her from that fate. "The Phantom Troupe is counterproductive to that in nearly every way."

She understood danger came with association, but he made it sound like Chrollo was as fickle as him when it came to the lives of loved ones. Because Chrollo loved them. Chrollo preferred to keep them alive and well and near. His replacement by defeat rule was the only contradiction to that. Even then, he didn't seem overly fond of it.

"You're a sweet girl, under that cold mask."

Her brows pushed together, cross look earning a few laughs. She once enjoyed his voice, his teasing dramatics with a threatening undertone. Now it just irritated her.

Hisoka leaned into the couch, draping his arm across the back, too comfortable. He fondly reminisced, "Darling, our reunion in Heaven's Arena, you gave me a gift. A thoughtful gift." Of all the things the-past-doesn't-matter-Hisoka bothered to remember, it had to be that. Had he felt touched? Or maybe it was just bizarre enough to be memorable. She didn't imagine anyone else would give him gifts not meant to kill him. "Your contradictions have always been part of your charm." He sighed, dramatic as he held a hand over his supposed heart. His leering glance over her body made her tense. "But," he said, sharp to punctuate his current interest in conversation over sex, "you're too sweet by comparison." The rise of his voice, his saccharine sweet smile hiding malice, he declared, "The Spider would eat you alive."

"I don't-"

"Do you understand what it means to be a Spider?" He leaned forward, eyebrows raised to mock her naivety. "What they do?" His eyes narrowed as she looked to her hands, fingers pulling her sleeves. She knew. She just preferred to not acknowledge it like the awful human she was. "See, you already feel guilty, don't you? Following orders is a requirement, not an option. Are you ready to mass murder otherwise innocent people? Do you think you would fare well?"

No. No, she wouldn't. She knew she wouldn't. As much violence as she could inflict, she usually had some way to justify it. Innocent bystanders, children, animals, the Phantom Troupe held no qualms. All were relegated to nonessential. Following orders without question was never justifiable. She would lose… An active role in sowing misery, even Auntie wouldn't overlook it, would she? To cross that boundary would be to forsake everything for Chrollo. And to have just him…

"No?" Hisoka sat back, pleased and displeased with her. "I think it would destroy you with agonizing slowness. That's to be my pleasure, fledgling." An absent flick of his fingers, several cards appeared. His focus on arranging them, his voice low, venomous eyes narrow, he warned, "Need I keep reminding you?"

Silence fell. Lan fiddled with her sleeve as Hisoka played with his cards. If he wanted her to consider the consequences, he would be happy to know she already was. She could only distract and escape from this for so long. Without Chrollo present to blind her with pretty reassurances…

Hisoka tossed a card, seven of clubs, to the floor, abysmal happiness gone.

"I'm sure he's given you every ultimatum to join."

Hisoka… Was more perceptive than she cared to admit. Chrollo used that ultimatum as a means of control. He set himself up to gain or remain, while she would lose something no matter her decision. And he refused to even contemplate compromise. That wasn't… That wasn't love. And she didn't want to confront that fact. Not when it was easier to bask in affection after deprivation and pain.

"He's fond of your personality." The stress landed on personality, not her. Like a piece to a collection. Another trinket to collect. "He doesn't want to let go of it now that he's claimed it as his own." A grin pulled his lips, voice dipping with a mocking edge, "He doesn't take loss well."

She didn't believe Hisoka. Not completely. While Chrollo may use the personalities of the Troupe to define his own, she didn't believe that was the only reason he kept them near. They were his friends. He cared about them, missed them in their absence. Hisoka made his attachment sound wholly selfish. What was selfish, though, was that Chrollo wouldn't spare that attention to anyone outside the Troupe. She had been a mistake he was now trying to remedy. Just a mistake. Always a mistake.

"Or," he began, voice sugar-sweet mocking, vicious smile in truth a snarl, "was a bit of conditional affection and hollow praise all it took to convince you?"

She refused his bait. Chrollo, he lied, but not about the Phantom Troupe. He wouldn't insist she join if she would be a hinderance; his praise wasn't all false. The affection…

Still, to go out of his way to warn her. "You really…" She trailed off, care not the correct word. Selfish concern, perhaps. No matter the word for it, he saw a great enough danger to warn her.

"Darling, do you think I would bother otherwise?"

"No." Never.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Consider yourself special, Lan." Golden eyes narrowed, sincere with irritation, "You are one of the precious few that I find worth helping."

"Is that-" She backtracked. It wasn't worth questioning. He would kill her before recognizing that maybe he felt that way because he wanted friendship. It was more than likely her misplaced hope wishing that were true, anyway. "Is that why you've been so nice lately? Because you think I'll kill-" She hesitated again. Had things really gotten so bad? Her instinct to phrase it like that was a red flag. There was distance in acting on reckless impulse with acceptance of possible death. Admitting it made it too active. "That I'll get myself killed?" she rephrased.

"Me? Nice?" His shock and appall, hand over his heart once more, may have once earned a twitch of smile. She was too tired. Of him. "You've been the mean one. Always hitting me, you're so abusive."

Her body tensed. Was she? "You're insufferable," she snapped. He started it by sexually harassing her; she was defending herself. She wasn't her father… But maybe, the subject, maybe Hisoka would listen. "You keep- touching me and I don't-"

He threw the opportunity back in her face. "Because of Chrollo?"

Conversation over. He said what he wanted, and there was no taking turns. He didn't care about their relationship beyond keeping her alive for later use. His fickle, one-sided love- "I hate you." Maybe as much as her father.

"Hate and love are two sides of the same coin, fledgling." Hisoka damned personal space with his purpose over. Closing in, pulling her beside him when she tried to escape, her nails dug into his wrist as he grabbed her chin. He forced her eyes to his. "That passion focused on me is all I want. And, you, Lan, aren't capable of apathy." He leaned in, breath hot against her lips.

"Shut up."

Hisoka's head snapped to the side, a trickle of blood running down his cheek. Nemmi returned to her shoulder, snapping his beak as his feathers rose, sharpened blades waiting. Hisoka released her chin, smile infuriating, as he caught a drip of blood on his fingertip. He'd used Nen fast enough to prevent face removal, but apparently misjudged her sincerity. She never meant it to be a playful slap. She didn't want him touching her. Not anymore.

But he was also right. She would always feel towards him, and, be it love or hate, that's what he wanted.

His laugh made her blood boil and freeze. Hisoka stood, stepping directly in front of her, looking down on her, over her. She shrunk into the cushions. He licked the blood off his finger, slowly, tongue trailing to the tip as his eyes burned hers.

"How do we compare?" he asked, eyes hooded as his thoughts devolved. "Don't be shy," he taunted, moving his hips, trying to draw her attention from his face lower. She didn't acknowledge his boner. Not her fucking problem. He should learn how to end a conversation or just leave. "I know you're not quite that innocent. What's he like? I never got the chance."

Never would, either. Chrollo admitted to being unsure, yet perhaps curious, following a lengthy discussion regarding her being bi, but- "You ruined your chance." With her and with Chrollo.

A threatened step forward, she kicked. His hand barely saved him from misery. Hisoka let go of her foot, stepping away, message apparently received. Hopefully. He could overpower her and… And she shouldn't have to worry about that. Friends and lovers, she should feel safe around them.

"Leave." She pulled her knees to her chest, holding back bloodlust-laced aura. The last thing she needed was for Sybil to appear to give him an excuse. That, and he may consider it an invitation. Nemmi flapped his wings, air displacement an added warning. "Now, Hisoka. I'm done with you."

"Bye-bye, little fledgling," he said, sauntering to the door, opening it to flood the room in unnatural light. He hesitated in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder, expression hidden in shadow. "Make good choices. For me."

The door closed.


Soured failed to fully describe his mood. Hisoka left the hotel and Lan behind him, fingers twitching for an outlet. Horny and frustrated made for a terrible combination.

Lan… His infuriating little Lan…

He had been nice, just as she had wanted, yet did she listen? No, she acted as though she could consider not act. What was he missing? He knew Chrollo. He knew Lan. He should have been able to convince her how positively stupid it was for her to join the Phantom Troupe- because Chrollo would make her join, no place for compromise. Maybe he been mistaken in trying to teach her not to trust. She didn't seem willing to learn. Manipulating her seemed to be working leagues better. He could have had her on his lap had he been crueler.

He should go back. He felt too invested in her. She would make for a good fight, but this was a fruit rotting before ripening. He should kill her and forget her.

He didn't like this bond between them. Bonds were as pointless as the past.

"You there! Stop!"

Hisoka's pace slowed, the gruff and stern voice behind him unfamiliar. An unfortunate lowlife or a misguided Hunter? He stopped. Either way, a card appeared in his fingers, a smile tugging his lips. A bit of blood may relieve the ache. Narrow, deserted street, how convenient that they had finally left the shadows to greet him.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Yes?" He tapped the card to his lips, appraising. An older man, dark hair graying, harsh wrinkles around doe eyes, a sheen of aura built around him. Steady, smooth, controlled, this is what he liked to see.

"Hisoka. Just as I thought." The man squared his shoulders, chest puffed out. "To think that I had been looking for Lanfen only to find you first. Fate seems to be on my side!"

Hisoka thought the same, fate providing him a gift, but- Sweet Lan, see? This is what notoriety earns you. She was much too easy to find. No wonder he felt eyes on him since leaving that hotel, though these weren't those eyes. All hot and bothered, he sensed one more set lurking. They, however, didn't seem keen to join in. Maybe dessert, should this fight fail to satisfy.

"Hisoka, you are a suspect in multiple heinous crimes; foremost, the murder of your fellow Hunters!" Eyes darkening, righteous fury in his aura, how scary. Was this his punishment for helping Illumi? He would kill two birds with one stone, fighting this virtuously senile man. Or three, if you counted his mood… piqued and soured by his fledgling's bird. Annoying girl, preoccupying his mind even on the edge of battle.

"I am Isma Ferrer, Two-Star Blacklist Hunter." The introduction, pride or a warning? Shame Chairman Whatever died before they could fight; he had been much more impressive. Yet, Two-Star, Blacklist, promising keywords. "I am here to apprehend you so that you may face justice for your misdeeds." Isma paused as though he expected Hisoka to walk into a pair of handcuffs and behind bars. Lan would have been fine, it seemed. A reluctance to kill made victory impossible. She would have shredded him apart for his mercy. He felt himself losing interest again. "Come quietly and without resistance," Isma needlessly clarified, "and I shall not be forced to use violence."

Five cards now fanned out in his hand: queen of hearts, seven of spades, seven of diamonds, seven of hearts, seven of clubs. Fortunes, all for Lan. He sent her latest fortune at Isma's feet. "I'm afraid I'm not the cooperative sort," he said, smile tense, mood further spoiled. Love problems. Conviction. Success. Every interpretation negative for him.

"Then so be it!" A flash of hot aura to intensify the heat of anger, Hisoka gave his not-fickle-enough attention to a man soon to die. Isma, Nen sunflower gold as it swelled and enveloped the street, commanded him, "Face the consequences of your actions!"


Nen crested and fell in the distance.

Roeis continued towards the fading disturbance. The late hour, streets dark and flooded with the remains of some bloodlust-laced aura, he was nearly alone. The hotel loomed several blocks away.

Had Lanfen tried to flee? Or had Isma lured her into the streets to protect civilians? Roeis struggled to find a reason why a fight had erupted so quickly. He was only ten minutes behind Isma; he should have just been entering the hotel. Had he intercepted her, then? His stomach knotted. Something wasn't right. Maybe she had someone with her. Maybe Isma-

A scream.

He ran, up the street, down an alley, to another empty street. Sparks rained down from arching powerlines, flickering bright in blackout night darkness. Glass crunched underfoot. A woman, panicked, stumbling, crashed into him, hands knotting in his shirt. Her words indecipherable as she shook, tear-filled eyes distant. A glance with Gyo showed no traces of Nen, no one presumably controlling her. Just an unfortunate bystander to… to something.

The Nen outburst minutes ago, Isma had to be close. So, why did he not come rushing to help this woman? Maybe he already had Lanfen and couldn't risk her lashing out or escaping.

"Hey," he started, near whispering. Wide eyes shot to him, tears still falling. An onslaught of bloodlust could have done this; the woman was lucky to be far enough away to avoid being seriously hurt. Did she come to investigate? "It's all right. Just take a moment to breath." Trembling fingers left his shirt, the woman nodding as she took a step back. Whatever she saw had been traumatizing… Maybe Isma couldn't keep all civilians from harm. A streetlight torn from the ground, the metal pole impossibly bent, Isma had to have hit it to keep it from nearby buildings. No other damage but the bend… Lanfen couldn't have lifted metal from ground. An ally.

Impatient, her breath not wracked with sobs, he asked, "What happened?" If she remained too shaken, he would just ask three easy 'yes or no' questions before compelling an answer.

"A," she struggled, lips trembling, eyes darting to the side, voice trailing quiet, "body."

He forgot her.

Dark and blinding, night become day-bright with sparks occasionally showering down from damaged powerlines and streetlights. Beyond twisted metal, beyond the rubble-strewn street torn asunder, a reflection bounced off something wet. Open wounds, fresh blood on a body, card impaled between brown eyes-

Roeis turned away, tears burning in his eyes as bile rose in his throat. He collapsed to the ground, hand over his mouth to keep down a scream, a sob. Several minutes passing, an eternity, he tried to shove aside shock.

He failed. This wasn't a body in the morgue, blood washed away, dead for days.

Isma. This was Isma. Ten minutes ago, he had been alive.

Ten minutes. That burst of aura. The playing card. Not Lanfen, but Hisoka. He didn't think- From their interaction during the election, his status after election, Roeis didn't think- He should have disappeared, not been with her. And Isma, ten minutes? How? Hisoka couldn't be… Isma was a Two-Star Hunter! This shouldn't have been possible.

Sirens and lights flooding the area, Roeis stumbled to his feet, eyes on the ground. He could still see Isma, image burned to memory at a single glance. The woman had recovered from shock before him to report the crime. Officers already rounding the corner, guns drawn, he held up his hands, Hunter License in a tight grip. Their chatter, their recognition of him, of Isma, Roeis ignored them, walking to the other side of the street to leave them to their work.

He didn't need to investigate. Not this time.

Roies slumped against a building, back sliding down the wall until he sat on cold ground. He couldn't do anything right now. He wanted to chase after Lanfen, or Hisoka, but Isma- Isma was right. If a battle-hardened enhancer fell to their abilities, then Roeis stood no chance in hell.

He couldn't do anything. Not alone. But everyone… He had no one left.

Footsteps, a pair of boots in front of him, ash and embers falling as cigarette smoke hit his nose, Roeis glanced up.

Sybil? No. Something felt off in how she held a cigarette in an arrow marked hand, expression calm despite curiously raised eyebrows.

"So, you're a Crime Hunter? Been looking for a Hunter with that sort of skillset to help with a job." Decidedly not Sybil, air-head speech lost to a different pitch, tone, and accent. A washed out Yorknew accent. Not that it mattered, Roeis' mind elsewhere despite an offered distraction. "You interested in taking out the Phantom Troupe?"

"This isn't the best time to be asking favors." Sitting outside a crime scene with drying tears down his face, it should have been obvious. This poor Sybil-mimic didn't seem to care, waiting impatiently, taking another drag, blowing smoke at him. "I have something personal to attend to," Roeis said, looking back to the ground.

"Good thing this is personal, then." A half-hearted glare from Roeis, the mimic stomped out the remains of a dropped cigarette. "Don't get pissy with me, you already seemed to pick up my game." Another flash of marked hands, they pointed a thumb over their shoulder. "That old man, Isma Ferrer he called himself, he was killed by Hisoka." Roeis held his tongue, if only for a moment. He understood a mimicry ability stood no chance against Hisoka, but to watch and do nothing as Isma was killed… Unforgivable. They were also more than suspicious, mimicking Sybil's appearance. They hadn't stumbled upon this battle. "And Hisoka, he's got connections with the Phantom Troupe."

Roeis' eyes went wide. A final connection in a tangled web. Hisoka, Lanfen, Sybil, they all had ties to the Phantom Troupe. But-

"How would you-"

They pointed to themselves. Or, more likely, the disguise they wore. "Sybil Delphi. Not the smartest tool, but tools are for using. She's not going to be useful the same way a Crime Hunter with the network of a Two-Star Hunter at his disposal." Again, Roeis narrowed his eyes. Had this been a set-up? Distracted by conversation and mourning, he realized he should be asking questions, not answering. "You can imagine the disadvantage, going against them alone," they added, rounding back to the offer.

"You want to kill them?" A question only to help activate his Nen. Otherwise, the mimic made it clear, loathing present in each syllable of Phantom Troupe.

Their eyebrows rose, voice mocking as they asked back, "You think you can keep those mongrels chained up?"

No. No, he supposed they couldn't. Stopping them had been an abstract goal so far from reach, he never had to consider what it meant to end the Phantom Troupe. And Isma… Isma disliked the death penalty no matter the perpetrator.

That's probably what killed him.

"You agree or what, kid?" They picked at the low-cut shirt, face scrunched. "Sick of standing in street looking like this bitch."

This… This wasn't someone he wanted to work with. Neither was Sybil.

But what other options did he have? All connected by the same thread, bringing justice for Bando, Lino, and Isma meant pursuing Lanfen. To pursue her alone when she surrounded herself with monsters… He may need to do the same just to survive.


Agnello settled against the corner of the room, eye on all his supposed allies. The kid, Roeis, he trailed after him like an abandoned dog from the crime scene to their place. Only now had he looked up from his feet.

"Miwa Pelletier?" Roeis whispered, voice between stunned and suspicious.

"You know her?" First time hearing a surname attached to the corpse woman's first. "Spill it, kid, what's her story?"

Miwa disregarded the conversation, eyes fixed on the table, expression as blank as ever. Roeis refused to answer. Verbally. His shoulders relaxed a bit, seeming like he'd found the lesser evil in the room. However, he tensed again upon glancing at Haven. Scowling, they continued to draw, this time a younger man with dark hair brushing large eyes. Roeis had the wrong idea. Haven wasn't the naïve kid in the room.

Sybil finally joined their makeshift strategy meeting, not even a second passing as she said, "Hisoka mustn't have wanted to play." With me. Agnello borrowed her face because she claimed the clown knew her, was interested in her. Interested in fighting her, maybe. Bastard would have killed Agnello if he showed himself. "Told you."

Agnello may be irritated with her trying to get him killed, but something else made him seethe. That playing card impaled in the old man's head… It matched the bodyguard near the scene. One of his father's guards, one not decapitated or sliced apart or filled with bullet holes, had the same style of card through his skull.

Hisoka had been there. He had been a part of that massacre that killed Agnello's father.

Sybil's disappointment slingshot to recognition as her eyes landed on Roeis. "You again!" She pointed, failed to recall a name. "You're Isma's little sidekick!"

"This is Roeis." Agnello looked specifically to an unimpressed Haven. Yellow eyes glared over the top of their shirt collar, waiting for an explanation. Roeis didn't look like much, eyes bloodshot from tears and too scrawny to be useful in a fight. "Isma was a Two-Star Blacklist Hunter. Roeis was his apprentice, has access to all those resources."

"Was?" Haven asked, perturbed despite reassurance he hadn't picked up the first Hunter he saw. Ungrateful brat. Agnello did his research. The witch recognizing Roeis should be proof enough.

"Hisoka didn't seem to be in a particularly good mood," he said, directing it at Sybil as she silently dared him to call her on her murder attempt. "He met with someone. Must have pissed him off, considering the bloodlust hanging off him when he left." Clown came out of that hotel with blood-curdling aura clinging to him. No way in hell was Agnello approaching him. Stuck to the shadows, watched how things unfolded between him and the old man. "Sent a card through Isma's skull," he added, just for Haven. Wasn't his fault the self-righteous old man got himself maimed; Isma didn't seem the type to cooperate with them anyway.

Roeis froze up at the name, looking like he was on the verge of angry tears again.

"Oh," Sybil played with her hair, surprise absent, "I bet he was seeing Lanfen."

Roeis went from tears to fury at the name.

"Maybe we should go grab her," Sybil reluctantly suggested before Roeis screamed his piece. Looked like he was about to boil over. Name apparently meant as much as Isma, just in the direction of loathing. "She's, like, Chrollo's girlfriend or something."

Through grit teeth, fists trembling at his side, Roeis forced out, "Who?"

"Chrollo Lucilfer," Haven answered, eyes on Sybil, unzipping their collar to reveal a slight smile, "Leader of the Phantom Troupe."

Agnello pushed himself from the wall, stalking towards Sybil. She knew a hell of a lot more than she let on. A girlfriend? "Why the hell did you not mention her?" Instead of giving them a fucking hostage, she tried to get him killed. He knew it! He hated working with this bitch.

"You said allies, not hostages." Sybil's attempt at defending herself fell completely flat. She didn't care, meeting his challenge with a flash of her aura and a hand on her hip. It reminded him she was the muscle. He shouldn't expect shit from her unless it was fighting. With a hair flip, she looked away, shrugging. "And, honestly, she's forgettable."

Haven unexpectedly interrupted again, talkative today. Too bad they spoke in a foreign language. Eyes narrowed and a smile still curling their lips, the amusement didn't go unnoticed.

Sybil grinned, apparently understanding foreign gibberish where the rest failed. She pointed a manicured nail to Haven, happily admitting, "I like you, kid. You get it." That defunct group Sybil'd been with, the Fan Shi, they were out of Anchi. Only mystery here was Haven knowing a useless language. Some backstory may fucking help, but they kept as quiet as Miwa.

Chair scrape jarring, Miwa stood. Her eyes, her expression, gained a concerning flicker of life. "We should go after her." Even her dead monotone faded at the suggestion. An enthused corpse, Agnello raised a brow at Haven. They ignored his unsaid question.

"Hey, Rose-boy." Sybil leaned forward, raised an eyebrow as Roeis visibly shook. Kid looked like he had seen a ghost. Or a demon. "Got, like, something to add?"

"I've been investigating Lanfen Paijin," name spat like a curse, "for a series of murders."

Agnello fought slapping the boy on the back. He knew this kid would work out better than that old man and Sybil. He stepped closer, trying to draw Roeis' attention from the floor. "Got info on her then?" He got up into his face, Roeis only nodding with a tightly clenched jaw. "Anything good? Come on, share with the class, kid. You see what I'm forced to work with."

"From what I've seen, Lanfen's ability-"

Sybil snapped her fingers, interrupting, "Living metal. Has a Nen beast shaped like a bird, but it can act independently from her. It's annoying as hell." A glance off to the side, she added, "She's slippery, took us like a month to catch her between the bird and Chrollo."

Agnello barely heard a word past metal. He shoved Roeis out of the way as he stalked towards the witch again. "Living metal, you mean like a fucking knife?" She ignored him, his hand in his pocket. "Like a fucking knife!?" he yelled, fingers around the switchblade, wanting to draw it across the bitch's neck. If she told them about Lanfen sooner then-

"Most wounds varied between knife or sword cuts," Roeis answered, retrieving his phone, messing with it. His voice lowered, eyes narrowed. "If she doesn't cut them apart, she beheads them."

Agnello stepped back from Sybil, interest in her lost as Roeis turned his phone towards him. A picture. A woman.

"That bitch!" Agnello's fist met the wall. He fumbled, pulling a cigarette and lighter from his pockets. A shaking inhale. No relief. He threw it to the ground, the lighter with it, stomping them to pieces.

That woman in Yorknew. Months ago, when he tied up some loose ends waiting for Miwa and Haven to get a plan, that had been Lanfen. How fitting that she returned to the crime scene! "Because she did it," he hissed, kicking a second hole into the wall.

The blood painted windshields, slit necks, and chopped apart bodies. Lanfen. She had killed all but three other bodyguards at the scene. One from the bullets of a Phantom Troupe puppet, the second a card to the skull from Hisoka, and the other! The other died when his father's car slammed into a building after Lanfen crashed another vehicle into them. Had to have been her, that other vehicle coated in blood, driver ditched blocks back in a near headless heap.

She had left his father alive in the wreckage, stabbed through with metal and bleeding from a bullet wound. He died slow, in agony, his last message after pulling himself from the wreck to the street-

Including that fucking whore instead of just family! Mother was still livid, that after all this damn time, he remembered that mutilated bitch enough to whine her name. If he thought she had survived being thrown to Meteor City decades ago, he'd have finished killing her just to shut his mother up.

"Behave, Agnello," Haven said, taking his attention from the wall and the past. Agnello turned to face the group, scowling as he dared anyone to ask. "We will go after her," they added, speaking like they were in charge. No one questioned them. "If she is as precious as Sybil claims, Chrollo will come fetch her." Haven held their drawing in front of them, smiling as they began tearing it into pieces. "Break a leg, and the Spider retaliates." A piece floated from table to Agnello's feet. A half-torn face, grey eye staring at him, Agnello ground it into the floor. "Crush the head," Haven smiled, "and the Spider dies." Haven's hand went to their hairclips, fingers tracing single pearls lovingly as they smiled, whispered, "I'll take everything from you, Danchou."


A/N: Karma, am I right? 30-25 some chapters ago, Lan was out killing random people that now have consequences attached. You can only imagine how many hitlists Chrollo appears on. And what Haven said to Sybil amounted to "Liar. You didn't tell us because you wanted to keep her as a backup plan should we fail to impress." They were in a bemused mood, learning about Lanfen.

Anyway, finally got around to uploading some drawings of Miwa, Agnello, Haven, Roeis, and a bonus to my deviantart (AwkwardBlackCat). Color got washed out from bad lighting, but oh well. I have the problem of sketches looking better than inked and colored versions anyway.

Thanks for reading!

Thank you for reviewing again MissEkat597! Did you expect Hisoka or someone else to be waiting?