Meteor City: The Oracle of Delphi
Twenty Years Ago
"You going to give it back?"
"I would prefer to keep it."
Circe rolled her eyes, digging her knee into his spine, pushing his face further into the dirt. His fingers gripped the book, undeterred.
Strange, this Chrollo.
He had broken into their house… eleven times now. She caught him eleven times, too. Yet, somehow, he always sneaked past Uncle and Mother. Mother swore she could hear a rat's heartbeat from ten meters away. There would always be one where she claimed, but rats were also everywhere.
Chrollo was just another little rat sneaking about.
She slammed a fist on the back of his hand. His grip remained tight. Circe smiled, and did it again and again until his fingers released. Angry red, pale skin would bruise vividly.
She hit the back of his head with the book. "Can you even read?" He spoke like he was trying to seem smart.
Every time she caught him, she asked questions until he got tired of being kneeled on and beaten like a rug.
She found he wasn't much like her. He was from the trash ring and out running wild while she would be considered as affluent as a resident can be without being related to an Elder. Mother worked as a recruiter for some important mafia families, after all.
"I can."
She lost interest. She had been hoping he wanted it to just appear smart. Reading was an actual reason, though she still questioned why this book. Mother's poison dictionary was more fun than Uncle's silly fantasy stories.
Circe stood up, feet digging into his back, his chest struggling to rise under her weight. Still, he didn't make a noise, only squirmed a little. For a delicate-looking kid that hadn't even hit his teens, he could handle a beating better than her and definitely better than Sybil. Sybil would always start wailing or screaming at the slightest hit despite knowing it egged Mother on. Then Circe would get in trouble for pulling Sybil's hair and distracting them from their self-defense and employable-skills lessons.
"That was fun." She stepped off him, pacing a few steps as he picked himself off the ground.
He raised his arm before the book smacked his nose. He stared at the battered book at his feet before looking to her with the slightest offence. So rare to see any emotion in empty grey eyes, but he didn't want a pity gift.
She shrugged. "It's not my book. For all I care, you stole it, you own it."
"And what could I steal to upset you?"
She laughed at how serious he sounded. "Something that's mine." Wasn't that obvious? If you had something you liked, you protected it. Kept it from being broken or stolen. "I'll beat you," she warned, not quite understanding the revelation on his face. "Maybe to death, if it's something important."
Circe's merry walk trailed to a halt.
Outside a toppled garbage-constructed hovel, Chrollo stood. Lip busted open, leaking blood down his chin, eye swelling under a deep black bruise, pale skin patched with purple and red, but…
She felt scared.
She had never been scared of him before, yet something felt terribly wrong, made her stomach want to twist.
It was his expression. It wasn't… right on a kid's face. For how much of a beating he had taken, recent with the wet blood still dripping, his expression was blank. No crying or yelling, he was dead silent, eyes staring out into the distance with cold calculated precision.
Whenever she caught him, he never looked like this. There would only be slight amusement in his subtle quips and questions.
His eyes narrowing sent her the opposite direction.
A scream ripped through the sweltering afternoon air. Circe stopped, considering. And, yes, she was bored enough to check out a mundane murder scene today.
Her head popped over a garbage ridge.
Huh. Not murder?
The shrieking continued, wounded, terrified animal overtaking more human sounds. Someone writhed at the bottom of a pit between rival trash piles. Flesh wasps continued to tear into skin, mandibles creating craters, stingers puncturing to deliver more venom.
Their limbs stopped flailing, paralytic kicking in. Wasps always went for limbs when nesting. Raw, agonized screams covered the buzz as the wasps laid their eggs and left paralyzed prey to rot. Wasps not swarming the body, she could see the massive welts and bleeding wounds. They were no doubt in incredible pain. And still conscious. Flesh wasps were interestingly rude like that.
Show over, she stood to leave. Body would just rot down there. Boring.
Then she spotted him.
Chrollo sat lower down on the same trash ridge, eyes fixed on the body. He pulled on a tattered rope fastened to a makeshift pulley system, door raising at the bottom of the garbage pile.
Rabid snarling. Starved dogs attacked the body, eating them alive while the wasp venom seared through every nerve.
"Wow," Circe said, approaching him, confidence hiding moderate concern, "you bored or is this what you always do when not stealing from us?"
His gaze shifted from the dogs ripping apart the body to her. His expression remained as empty as his voice. "This is how someone should react when something is stolen from them, isn't it?"
She stared with a bit of horror leaking through. He did this because someone had stolen from him? He was always so calm, so uncaring, she didn't understand the escalation. "They take something important?" Had to have. She understood killing someone in revenge, but to plot an execution like this, she didn't understand. Mother would only do something like this to send a message. No one around but Circe, evidence being eaten, Chrollo just wanted to humiliate and torture in personal retribution.
"What makes something important?"
Asked genuinely, her blood chilled. She never wanted to know what he would do if something truly important was stolen from him.
"Hecate Delphi."
"Fanghe Paijin."
The black-haired woman smiled, bitterness in Mother's tone somehow amusing. Sybil instantly admired this Fanghe. Sybil usually got a slap across the face for back-talking or dirty looks. Fanghe must have a reputation behind her to keep Mother sitting on her chair with just a glare and gritted teeth.
She looked mafia with her fancy clothes and bad attitude, but mostly men in suits with guns on the hip came to see Mother. Fanghe didn't have an obvious weapon on her. Last time a guy without a weapon showed up, Mother kissed ass, Sybil missing whatever impressive threat had been said.
Sybil looked to Circe for agreement. Circe paid more attention to the two other girls standing behind Fanghe, silent and blank-faced. One was particularly scrawny, brown hair matted to her head and legs bowed to the point she probably couldn't do more than waddle. She stared into space without a single thought in her head. The blonde girl, dark bruises around her wrists and neck not hidden by torn clothes, didn't look as pathetic; just impatient.
"I understand that you are interested in entering The Council of Elders."
"A Paijin has little power here. You supply, not demand." Mother waved off the woman. Fanghe remained, pleasant, if threatening, smile unflinching. "I have an entire city of desperate fools and all the business I need with the families under the Dons," Mother added, edge creeping into her voice as her eyes narrowed. "Is this an insult? You aren't the heir to the Paijin. You aren't even an officer. If they want to make a deal, tell them to send someone more important than some little girl."
Sybil rocked on her feet, looking for where Mother had the knife hidden today. She liked to stab annoying people. Or, maybe, she would have Sybil and Circe kill the woman; they hadn't practiced nothing today. Like, Mother was training them to have them join a mafia family- instead of being a throwaway recruit like everyone she sent.
Because Mother wanted power. In Meteor City, that meant building up wealth and connections until you were influential enough to join The Council.
Fanghe brushed aside the comments, unnerving smile never faltering. All self-confident, ego the size of the room, Fanghe felt in complete control, didn't she? Sybil wanted to know why. Fanghe didn't have weapons, intimidating guards, or impressive muscles like all the other arrogant mafia guys that tried to come in and boss Mother around. Fanghe was pretty and tall and slender. Like Mother, but younger.
Why Mother continued to entertain their guest was a mystery. Maybe it wasn't a money-card thing Fanghe flashed when barging in.
"Where my family has failed is their preoccupation with tradition. They act proud in not taking advantage of the power Meteor City has offered other families. It will inevitably allow them to be crushed." Theatric in delivery, every word so carefully pronounced with unwarranted authority, Sybil didn't like Fanghe's voice. It made her listen. "Your reputation has gained my interest. If I am to do as my family has failed, you would be an exceptional ally," she complimented, Mother's frown deepening. "Assisting you in joining The Council would benefit us both."
"What assistance do you have to offer?" Mother shifted, and Sybil finally found where the knife was hidden. "Again, you are powerless in the Paijin."
"I can initiate someone in Nen with a one-hundred percent guarantee to their safety."
Mother jolted from her seat. Sybil flinched. The knife dropped on the floor, Mother pacing towards Fanghe. Nen? Whatever it was, Mother wanted it. Badly.
"What proof do you have?" Mother demanded.
Fanghe glanced behind her, holding her hand out. "Adalei," she called, the blond girl obediently stepping forward. Fanghe set a hand on her head. "It is an item in my possession. Adalei can serve as a demonstration. Confirm however you wish that she does not already possess Nen. Once you are satisfied, I will use it on her." Adalei looked up to Fanghe, the woman crouching down, soothingly patting her head as she added, "Then Adalei can prove just how powerful she is. No one will be able to hurt her again."
"If you are lying, I'll kill you," Mother snapped. Instead of calling for Sybil or Circe, Mother stepped forward, intending to test Adalei herself.
Adalei continued cackling, oblivious to them as she stomped a body into a pile of bloody mush. Bones crunched under her feet like they were fragile rat bones instead of full-grown man's. Watching her initially beat the man to death had been just as morbidly fascinating. The man hit her a bunch to no effect. Every hit Adalei landed bruised down to bone with a snap.
Sybil could see why Mother was interested. Whatever Nen exactly was, Sybil wanted it too.
Fanghe sat primly on the hood of a gutted car, the other kid, Taakya she had overhead, clinging to her. Taakya kept her face buried in Fanghe's sleeve instead of watching the spectacle like everyone else. Circe had her arms crossed over her chest, lip pulled up in a bit of disgust. Excessive violence was never her thing. It was Sybil's, but even she wasn't this brutal. Well, not usually.
Mother's expression had been wiped blank since Fanghe and Adalei had emerged from their half-hour spent behind a closed door. Alone. Mother hadn't liked that. So, she had tried to stab Adalei. Blade broke in half like it hit a rock. While Adalei and Mother stared at the broken blade, remembering half an hour earlier when Mother's fists left bruises on Adalei's face, Fanghe asked if further demonstration was necessary, lips curled into a devilish smile.
Mother was a sore loser.
"Fine," Mother agreed, won over by the last demonstration, "but I have a condition."
"Hecate, I am only so generous." Fanghe slid off the car hood, Taakya scrambling to follow and hide behind her.
"Take Sybil with you."
The words hung in blood-scented air.
"What!?" Sybil screamed, words sinking in. "No, you can't, like-"
"Quiet," Mother snapped, finality in her voice, "you will go learn from this woman. As a Hunter, she is better qualified to train you in Nen."
Why only her? Her stomach twisted. Because Circe had more potential. Because Mother liked Circe more. Mother didn't want to risk losing Circe by sending her with some strange mafia woman. If Sybil ended up surviving, Mother got something out of it. If Sybil died, she died, no loss taken. That's how low her expectations were for her.
Sybil desperately called, "Circe-"
"You would give her to the Fan Shi?" Fanghe interrupted.
"Yes." Mother didn't even look at her. "If this relationship is as beneficial as you claim, I expect her to be well-trained, obedient, and infamous among the mafia. Whether that is as part of your little mercenary group or not, I don't care."
"I see," Fanghe said under her breath, eyes drifting to Sybil, appraising. Appraising! Rejection was a possibility. She hated that. Compared to the two following after Fanghe, she was…
"I don't want to go!" Sybil yelled, fists shaking at her side. She wouldn't be thrown away like the useless junk surrounding them. She wasn't worth less than two kids picked out of the trash heaps. "I won't!"
Out came a pocketknife, Sybil stomping for Mother.
A hand caught her shirt, yanked her back by the collar. "Sybil," Circe said, tugging her another step back, "Mother isn't going to change her mind." Circe's eyes narrowed, Mother looking down her nose. "I think she has been planning to do something like this for a while. Whatever Nen is, it's dangerous to learn. So dangerous that she was going to use you as a test before moving onto me and then herself, should the odds be favorable. What Fanghe is offering changes things."
Mother made no attempt to deny Circe's words. Sybil hated that Circe was smarter than her, that she could see all these connections between unsaid facts. She hated it because Mother adored it. No matter how good Sybil was at anything else, it didn't matter. Sybil always failed. Sybil was always second. Even Fanghe seemed ready to write her off as a failure first, last, and always.
"I'm going with," Circe said, crossing her arms over her chest. "If you have Nen yourself, you don't need us anymore. Whatever connections Fanghe has will already be yours without us joining. The slim chance we return to you is worth allowing us to train under an expert."
Mother smiled fondly at Circe. Only Circe. Always Circe. "You are certainly my child."
Sybil pulled free of Circe's hold. "I don't need you." Mother wanted her. No reason to risk leaving with Fanghe when she would have it all regardless.
Sybil just needed to prove herself. Then everyone would shut up and pay attention to her.
Six Years Later
Chrollo stood, idly curious. The line was comprised of men ranging early teens to upper forties, but the median and average age settled closer to his own: fourteen. True to rumor, the mafia typically targeted younger residents in decent health, the sickly cast aside. This gathering, however, he wondered its importance in thinning the group further. Not everyone was to be inducted, he understood.
Hecate Delphi stepped to the front of the room, her armed guards blocking the sole exit. They leveled weapons at the crowd to clearly state no one would be leaving. Had Chrollo wandered into a trap of some variety? That would be an issue. He was conceived something interesting was being offered to those that were selected. Something more than merely being an honorary member to whatever mafia group happened to be… hiring.
It would be a lie to say his interest lie only in that mystery. He also wanted to leave Meteor City without instantly becoming destitute in another place. He wanted to experience the mundane life all storybook characters seemed to loathe; they often made it sound like paradise, aside from the drudgery of rigid structure.
"This is your last chance to leave," Hecate warned, eyes scanning the crowd, air growing tense.
Hecate Delphi, her reputation had placed her highly among recruiters in the city. Years to her name, and she would inevitably have the power to join The Council of Elders. The days of stealing from her house had long since ended; sometime after Circe had disappeared, he suddenly found Hecate more… perceptive. Claiming to be looking for Circe had a been a one-time reprieve he dared not test.
She stepped before the first few men in line. Her eyes narrowed severely, temperature plunging. The air became dense, suffocating, pressure unnatural and crushing. One man immediately fell to the floor to drown on heavy air, gasping before passing out. Another's legs quite literally folded, bone shattering, agonized scream cut short as Hecate crushed both their skulls under foot.
The pin-prick sting on his skin, his eyes widened in delight.
She continued down the line. Ruptured blood vessels, shattering bones, burning flesh, every manner of injury and death befell those before Hecate. A few tried to run. The guards kept the promise with bullets and added blood.
Hecate stood in front of him. Tangible malicious intent-
He was slammed onto his back, vision shaking as his head struck hard floor. His lungs refused to draw a breath. Cozy warmth spread throughout his body. A sharp inhale, the pressure lifted from his chest. As his vision steadied, he saw a phantom glow rising. Holding his hand up, he marveled at the glow. He once read a book that said living creatures had an aura that surrounded them; perhaps it wasn't as nonsensical as he thought.
Aura rapidly poured from his body. On the assumption that aura clung only to the living, he wouldn't be living much longer.
Well, what to do about this?
The same glow clung to Hecate, swelling and retracting as she pleased. It was controllable, just as he thought. A few attempts to quell and contain, his aura settled against his skin. While Hecate finished up, Chrollo played, trying to replicate the dramatic shifts he had seen in Hecate's aura.
"Only you, huh?" Hecate's lip pulled up in disgust, recognition, and disappointment. "It's called Nen. You're going to go train in it with whatever family pays the most for you, got it?"
Nen. He finally had a name for the bizarre power he had felt years ago. "Nen must be held with some amount of secrecy." He certainly had tried to find a name and description before this. The book that mentioned aura had contained an assortment of psychic phenomena; it was also labeled fiction.
"Imagine the chaos," Hecate warned, setting a hand on his head, studying him. Her nose scrunched at what she found. She turned his head to the pile of bodies. "Very few survive the process. Just enjoy having the advantage, brat. Got it?" He nodded while planning to do the opposite. "Don't make it my problem." A firmer warning as she watched the gears spin in his head, he nodded again. He could manage that.
He had no interest in The Council of Elders, nor Hecate's path towards it.
Three Years Later
Chrollo paged through Skill Hunter, quite pleased with its progress, yet wanting more. Being a part of the mafia had served its greater purpose. Not only had he gained access to Nen, he had been supplied with a variety of abilities.
Most were quite boring. However, there was one-
"You seem excited." Liang sat beside him, setting a hand on his to convince him to lower the book to look at her. Soft features drawn into a concern, she always knew when he was up to no good. "Are you planning something reckless, Chrollo?"
"I am." He smiled, her brows pushing together while her lips pressed tight. Nothing would dissuade him.
Aftermath whispered with reverent horror, memories of her late Nen master, he wanted it. He would steal Sybil Delphi's Nen. He had a connection to exploit, thanks to Machi. Her complaint when asking for information had been her "mentor's girlfriend's sister saw her stitch work and won't quit pestering her." Machi already saw his intent, immediately following with "Are you an idiot?" Going after Sybil, her reputation lined with countless corpses, he was in fact an idiot. Regardless, Machi helped him begin setting the stage.
He had grown bored of playing the role of mafioso. They never considered him as more than a thing to be used by their family. It would hardly be a sacrifice, using them to gain access to Sybil's Nen.
He allowed Skill Hunter to disappear, Liang's hand still resting on his. She worried too much about him. She should worry for herself; she was rather defenseless in comparison. "Liang, you should let me initiate you."
He considered himself quite adept at it. No one he had inducted had been horribly maimed, nor had any died- never mind his experimental stage; he never intended them to live, so they didn't count. Feitan, Phinks, and Machi were doing quite well. A few others he met through the mafia, simple hitmen and bodyguards not gifted Nen upon joining, he had discussed inducting Uvogin, Nobunaga, and Franklin next.
Nen was such a helpful skill.
"No, Chrollo." Repeating once more, "I'm not interested in it."
She would eventually accept.
"Nen is not inherently destructive," he added. Despite being rather indifferent to the violent company she kept, she had an aversion to violence herself. Perhaps she couldn't envision an ability outside of what she had witnessed. Chrollo had a collection; he could now offer ideas. "Take for instance Machi's Nen. She can-"
"Chrollo," Liang interrupted, truly annoyed with his insistence, "I don't want it." Examining his blank expression, she frowned, knowing he would keep asking until she gave in. She dropped the subject by looking away. She patted the back of his hand, forgiving his persistence, before standing. "Try to be careful."
"Would you miss me if I died?"
"Of course, I would. Very much," she reassured, warm smile lighting her expression. Nothing shifted her features more than- "You, Feitan, Phinks, and Haven are very important to me." Fondness always softened her voice when she spoke of them, genuine emotion leaching through. That sentimental response…
"Do you love us?"
"I do."
How easily she could proclaim it as an undeniable truth…
What did it mean to love someone? He had all the poetic definitions and fictional examples in the world, yet feelings were something he could not replicate through mimicry. He couldn't steal emotions and empathy.
Stealing Nen was as close as he could get to possessing such human things. No use mourning when Nen was far more useful.
Sybil slammed a fist into the window, glass shards fluttering down to the streets far below. Indoor Fish hissed as air flowed into the room. Smog and blood, she wrinkled her nose. Attacking her penthouse apartment in crowded Yorknew, they forced her into using Indoor Fish over Apocalypse Countdown. Indoor Fish cleaned up the bodies, but spilled blood wasn't her fault; idiots were chasing after another idiot, that scuffle causing the damage. So much for blowing her savings on the place; she'd be doing grunt work for the Dons just to afford something less impressive.
She turned, leaning against the window frame as she looked to her only surviving guest. Black hair stood out on pale skin, childish roundness only found in his eyes, rest of his features bordering pretty and handsome. He was young, probably not into his twenties yet.
Sybil loosely gestured to the bloodstained room. "So, like, what?"
He never got the explanation out during the fight. She needed to know if she needed to kill him before dodging police. Apartment was a lost cause, but he might be some fun.
"They seemed convinced you killed the Boss of the Lagario family." She quirked an eyebrow, being he came with them. He chuckled under his breath, voice smooth with an irritating quality she couldn't place. "I am not so dedicated as to die for their family. No, I am just hired help, as most Meteor City residents are."
Maybe the reek was just the Meteor City rat in the room.
"Lagario," she repeated, mulling it over only to draw a blank. She only really gave a shit about the top rung, the bosses of the bosses of the bosses. Rest were targets, faces and names forgotten the second she had payment. Lagario was probably an independent group refusing to obey. Like the Bai Ze.
She lost interest.
"My name is Chrollo," he offered, filling silence, keeping her from boredom. She still hadn't decided if she wanted to kill him or not. "I knew your sister. In fact, I used to steal from your home quite often. She found catching me quite entertaining."
"You're that scrawny kid she used to beat on, huh?" Sybil never recalled seeing him in the house, but she had passed Circe shoving his face into the ground while kneeling on his back a few times. Maybe that's why he was acting so friendly. Most didn't stop for a pleasant chat with her. His attitude brought irritation.
"I understand that you both left to join a mercenary group called the Fan Shi." He approached, slow yet confident. He wanted something, of course. She wouldn't be surprised if he set this stage just to weasel his way close. "Though, I suspect, the group has since disbanded without its leader."
"Yeah," she scoffed, "I wish." Instead she still had Joan pestering her to help him reconnect with Yorknew mafia. Circe ran off with Minji to do who-knows; those two, she would admit, were the brains of the group. At least bug-boy didn't try to seize control. He'd be insufferable.
"Oh? I am quite surprised it persisted." No surprise showed on his face or tone. But the Fan Shi? What a boring reason to risk speaking with her. "Rumor said it died with the rest of the Paijin." Was that an assumption? The Bai Ze were unsure of Li Bao's fate; may be an attempt to dissuade competition for his head. They already had to contend with the Fan Shi. "On the subject of rumor, was it true the Fan Shi possessed an item capable of gifting someone Nen?"
She rolled her eyes. Figures. "You want it or something?" Everyone that caught that rumor wanted it. Be a lot more fun if they wanted a fight instead.
"I enjoy collecting oddities, and an item of such effect is just that." He looked away, eyes scanning the skyline outside. "The language barrier has made my search rather difficult. I assume you speak Anchian?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, losing interest again. "Good luck with that." She had no damn idea what happened to it. No one did. "You have an interesting ability," she prompted instead. Strange thing, the book in his hand, the variety of attacks he had used. He may be fun to fight, honestly. For as young as he was, his Nen had a controlled sheen many Hunter's would be jealous of.
Like, Hunters made a lot of money, right? Maybe she should do that.
"I could say the same."
Her brows set in a frown. "What's it's deal?" She was being nice, asking over attacking. He was on her last nerve.
He smiled politely, admitting his mistake in etiquette and accepting her merciful second chance. His brows rose, lips curled in the slightest smile. Attractive face and charm probably got him far; if he was older, this interaction may be going a touch differently. "Perhaps we could make a trade?"
Infuriating.
A smile cut across her face. "All right." He looked entirely too smug for someone she could kill with relative ease. "I'll even answer first."
Watching his expression blank, she struggled to keep down laughter. By the end of her explanation of Indoor Fish, she lost the fight, cackling as his lips pressed into a thin smile of a man not given what he wanted. The silence killed, her mood improved a thousand-fold.
He shouldn't have mentioned that he didn't speak Anchian.
"Well? Your turn." Technically, she had answered. Then again, he had never been in a position to barter.
He blinked away his dumbfounded expression. "Very well," he agreed in defeat. "Upon seeing a Hatsu and hearing an explanation, I am able to use it for myself. Temporarily, of course. There is a deadline to how long I can access it. I have a number in my current collection." He offered the book to her, Sybil eagerly ripping it from his hand.
She flipped through the pages as he patiently waited- otherwise known as leaning out the window, street stories below. He glanced over his shoulder as she continued turning pages. Antsy. She wondered-
Her picture stared back at her with realization.
He whispered, "Thank you, Sybil," Anchian on his tongue a sin.
The book vanished as conjured objects tend to do when the user decides to bail out the window.
Hazy green aura coated the room in sticky bloodlust, Apocalypse Countdown taking shape to sunder the building, tear apart the entire street, all to crush him and thieving hands.
A/N: Just going to put flashback exposition in the middle of something else. Like Gyro's backstory in the chimera arc. Because I wanted to write young Chrollo, Circe, and Sybil. Really, it should be a 'side-story' thing but I'd been indecisive with the order of the next chapters. Something is better than nothing at this point, right?
This update is brought to you by the recent Guest and Too lazy tologin reviews, along with Ao3 reviewers, reminding me people do like this, that it isn't complete garbage. Back from August, thank you purplewine, Bella, boxiee13, and kitcatty for your reviews, you're the only reason I didn't outright delete ch51 AND disappear for months.
Haven't much been in the posting mood. I had a whole little sad rant typed out, but I'll spare you my babbling. Last chapter had been a tipping point with my frustration towards the cycle of posting something I was honestly happy with, getting next to nothing in response, and then hating my own work. While I tend to be damn quiet about it as to not beg or guilt-trip anyone, or seem ungrateful for the reviews I do get, the lack of response really killed my motivation to share this, let alone update with any sort of consistency. That's all, I guess. Wish I had something more cheerful to say.
