notes: what is this?! an update and it hasn't been an entire year?! i'm slowly getting back into things around all of my medical appointments (as i write this, i have a damn itchy machine taped to my chest with electrodes and everything, so they can monitor my heart for an entire week and i think i'm having an allergic reaction to the medical tape; great). i'm hoping this lasts and i can get more and more chapters to you guys. aesclapia was nice enough to look over the document for me, but it's otherwise un-beta'ed. anyone interested in being my beta reader? please?

Chapter 10
Chains

"I can't see anything!" Killua complained. He had his eyes glued to binoculars, staring at the Tower where Kurapica—and more importantly, Kuroro—lived.

"I told you," the blond pointed out. "His place is a mess."

"But I see light so it's not like the windows are completely blocked."

"There are bookcases in front of the windows," Kurapica insisted. "Even if you could see anything, is he tall enough to really be seen above those?"

"Let me see!" Gon whine, making a grab for the binoculars.

"Oh wait," Killua said, shoving Gon back with one impatient hand, "I think there's a bit to the right where I can see inside. Yeesh, you weren't kidding about the mess. Oh! There he is!"

Kurapica turned around and tried to snatch the binoculars, but Killua pulled them out of reach with a smug grin. "Just kidding!"

"Killua," Kurapica groaned, miffed at being played.

"My turn!" Gon exclaimed, using Killua's distraction to snatch the binoculars for himself.

Killua was still giving Kurapica that annoyingly smug look, so the blond put a hand to the boy's face and forced it away. Killua let him, but he licked at his palm before finally turning away, just to be a little shit. Kurapica made a sound of disgust and wiped his hand on his jeans.

"You don't even know when's the last time I washed my hands," he told the younger boy.

"A fastidious guy like you?" Killua asked, then scoffed.

"I'm impressed," Kurapica said. At Killua's questioning gaze, he continued, "You know the word fastidious."

"Oh, fuck off!" Killua snorted, shoving him lightly, trying to hide his grin.

Kurapica couldn't help smiling too, but then Gon started hitting Killua's arm.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! I can see him for real though!" he exclaimed.

"What, where?" Killua turned and tried to grab the binoculars back, but Gon batted him away.

"He's in the other window," he told them, still shoving at Killua to try and keep him away from the binoculars. "He seems to be talking with someone…"

"Wait, did you hear that?" Kurapica suddenly shushed them, getting to his feet.

"What?" Gon asked, far too loud.

Kurapica shushed him again, straining to hear. Whatever he had heard had been just on the edge of his awareness, but it sounded metallic, maybe.

"I'm going to check on the door," he whispered.

"We chained it closed," Killua murmured back. "Even if someone tried to open it, they couldn't get to the roof."

"Yeah, I know; let me just verify that it's secure."

Kurapica made his way quietly back to the door they'd come from. He'd seen Killua secure it, but he pulled lightly at the chain, tugged on the padlock, then pulled at the door. It moved a little, but the chain kept it from opening more than a few centimetres. Reassured, he gave the padlock one last tug, then he let go and returned to his companions.

"I must have imagined it," he said, sitting with his back against the parapet. He sighed. "I don't know why I'm so jumpy. Feels like I keep hearing things that just aren't real."

He scratched at the bandage still covering his hand. The bite was itchy. Leorio had sworn that it was because it was healing properly, but it drove Kurapica insane at times.

"Better paranoid than dead," Killua recited solemnly, as if it were words he'd heard often in the past. Then he scoffed lightly. "There's probably a few zombies below us, but so long as they can't get up here, we'll be fine."

"Yeah, the door's still secure," Kurapica sighed. He leaned forward to catch Gon's eye. "You said you saw Kuroro?"

Gon seemed to remember he was still holding the binoculars. He turned back towards the Tower and peered at it again. "Ah, they've gone! He was with a tall lady. I don't think I've ever seen her before."

Kurapica held his hand for the binoculars. "Shouldn't it be my turn? I've yet to look."

"I thought you didn't want to bother?" Killua ribbed him.

Kurapica huffed, but closed his hand around the binoculars without comment, turning around and bringing them to his face. He tried to find the Tower with the limited field of vision. The crack didn't help either. Thankfully, the building was the tallest in that direction, and after a few minutes, he had it pinpointed. Kuroro's apartment was the easiest to recognize, thanks to the blocky shadows of the bookcases breaking the faint light from deeper in. The apartment to one side had the lights on in the main room, and Kurapica could see that the place was clean, spartanly so. He couldn't see anyone at first, but then two people came into view of one window.

One of them was Kuroro, dressed in his usual black. The woman with him was slightly taller, with dirty blond hair and wearing a skirt suit, of all things. They were talking, but she was just as inexpressive as Kuroro, so Kurapica had no idea what kind of conversation it was.

"They're back," he told the others. "I see her. I've never met her either. If she lives up there, she must be one of the Spiders, right? They're the only ones living on the upper floors. They're talking."

"About what?" Gon asked and Kurapica heard Killua hit him.

"Idiot, we can't hear them from here can we? Just because he sees them doesn't mean he can hear them!"

"And I can't read lips either," Kurapica pointed out. "I swear they're allergic to facial expressions or something. They look completely impassive. Are they all like that?"

"From what I can tell," Killua said with a shrug Kurapica could feel against his shoulder. "It's not like we see them much, but whenever I see them they look like androids or something."

Kurapica stared at them for a while longer, but it was clear he wasn't going to learn much from just looking at the Spiders through binoculars. He sighed and handed them off to Killua.

"I don't think spying from a distance is going to work," he told the boys. "I have to find a way to get up there on my own."

"How'd you go last time?" Killua asked.

"Remember the short one who came to get me a while ago?" At their nods, Kurapica continued, "Well, he had someone lift us up with the crane that's up there."

"So how do you communicate with them if they don't come down?" Gon asked, trying to get the binoculars from Killua again.

"Had to hang something out my window," Kurapica groaned, turning to lean his back against the parapet again. "Gods, this is sad. Never thought I'd miss cellphones."

"Oh, I had one of those," Killua commented, still fighting with Gon for the binoculars; not that he seemed like he was going to use them. It seemed to be the principle of the thing. "Only my family was allowed to have my number though so I kept leaving it behind so they'd leave me alone."

"My mother bought two of them when I left home. One was for me." Kurapica heaved a sigh. "She wanted to make sure we could always stay in touch even as I was off travelling."

"So you haven't heard from her since the towers stopped working," Killua surmised.

"A little before," Kurapica corrected.

There was a long, awkward pause. The boys stopped fussing about who had the binoculars.

"So I guess you actually liked your mom," Killua said.

"I didn't have one!" Gon piped up. When the other two turned to blink at him, he corrected, "Well, I guess I had one if she gave birth to me, but I've never met her. My aunt raised me."

"Hated mine," Killua said. "Well, maybe not hated, I don't know. I just didn't get along with my family."

"Do you regret it now?" Kurapica asked him.

"Not really," Killua said with a shrug. "They're probably out there somewhere. They wouldn't die so easily."

Kurapica felt somehow comforted by that thought. Yes, his people wouldn't die so easily either. They were strong. Martial arts were taught from a young age, as were survival skills and hunting. They might have had to leave the village, but they surely found refuge somewhere. The strong would protect the weaker members of the tribe and his mother, the toughest fighter they had, would definitely protect Pairo. And Kurapica would find them again someday, he was sure of it.

The evening winded down after that, though the younger boys talked together a fair bit. Kurapica was more focused on the stars above him, mentally tracing the constellations he remembered learning in his childhood. It was amazing to him that giant balls of nuclear fusion light-years from Earth, some probably long dead, could still be used to orient oneself. Galaxies away, atoms burst and fused, and here on this tiny rock floating in near void, Kurapica could use them to find his way north at night, skills he'd learned from his elders back home.

After a few hours of quiet chatter and crackling fire, all three young men wrapped themselves in their sleeping bags. It had been a while now since Kurapica had slept out in the open, and he hadn't missed the feeling of the hard outline of his sheathed knives digging into his thigh muscles, but even with the padlocked door, with the sky the only roof above their heads, he needed the reassurance. This discomfort was worth bearing with.

His dreams, haunted by the thought of his people and the end of civilization, turned to nightmare. He didn't remember much once he awoke, but was left with the memory of his parents' faces, twisted nearly beyond recognition, eyes vacant through a milky white film, and the faint noise of chain-links clinking softly in the wind.

He let out a soft sigh and rubbed at his face, turning onto his back. Once he blinked his eyes open, he realized that it was still fully dark out, not even a hint of dawn in the night sky. The younger boys were silent, probably still sleeping. The moon was a thin crescent, and some areas of the sky were dark, probably covered in clouds. The night was quiet, just a bit of wind whistling above, something creaking, and the gentle clinketty-clink of chains.

But then there was a snapping sound, and a heavy, metallic thud, and Kurapica was out of his sleeping back, knife in hand, before he was even really conscious of having moved, his bedding cut open beneath him. He heard the high pitched squeak of the door leading into the building, then silence. He made his way to Gon and cut his bedding open as well.

"Wake up," he hissed, "people are coming!"

Next to them, Killua reacted nearly instantly, nearly ripping the sleeping bag open in his haste to get to his feet.

"Is there another way down?" Kurapica asked his companions, peering into the darkness towards the door he'd heard open.

"Window washer rig," Killua whispered, just a hair above silent. "We've made sure it's solid, and can get us level with another roof a few stories lower than here. Why? What woke you up?"

"Heard the chain being cut, I think," Kurapica answered, his eyes fixed on the black square where the door and the stairwell beyond it were.

"Are you sure?" Gon asked, tilting his head, listening intently. "I can't hear anything…."

"Would someone even be able to cut them from inside?" Killua asked.

"So long as they can open the door enough to get bolt cutters through," the blond pointed out.

"They'd have to be human then," Killua started saying, but then Gon gasped.

"Zombies!"

He jammed his feet into his boots and put a hand to cup behind his ear. "Humans may have cut the chain, but those groans and shuffling steps coming up are zombies!"

Kurapica couldn't fathom how one would work with the undead, but he didn't doubt Gon's hearing, he just grabbed his bag, threw it at Killua and started walking toward the door, loosening his other knife in it's sheath.

"Grab the bags and get to the rig," he urged them. "Just get to it and start lowering it."

"What about you?" Gon asked, and Kurapica could hear him step behind him, following him instead of working toward extricating themselves from this situation.

"I'll hold them," Kurapica said, motioning for Gon to go back to their bags. "Grab everything you can and run for it!"

"No!" Gon cried at the same time Killua hissed, "Are you insane?!"

Damn all secrets to hell, Kurapica didn't have time to think through how much to say.

"I'm immune," he said, heading towards the door. "I can hold them at the door! Just get off the roof and whistle when you're on the rig!"

The door banged open and Kurapica rushed the last few steps with less grace than he would usually exhibit. He ran, shoulder first, into the undead woman that was first to breach the doorway. It let out a garbled sound and its fall helped slow the ones coming up behind it. Kurapica flipped his knife and slashed in a sweeping semi-circle, which did little damage, but managed to slow down the few that hadn't stumbled with the first one. Crooked fingers tried to latch on Kurapica's arm.

This wouldn't work. Kurapica had to force them to come at him one by one so that he could permanently disable them. He took a step back and assessed the width of the opening. Already, the undead were stumbling through the doors, going after him.

A wild idea took root in his mind, something that was risky but might just actually work. Dodging a crooked, reaching hand, he flipped on one hand and picked up the chain with the other, soon landing on his feet. He used the length of metal like a whip, forcing the infected back behind the door. One lash, two lashes, and the rusty links kept scratching and tearing off small chunks of rotting flesh. The smell was horrid, sickly sweet and overpowering, but Kurapica kept whipping and whipping, driving the horde backwards. Hitting their chests didn't do much, but some form of residual instinct might remain in the undead, because when Kurapica aimed for their faces, they started trying to cover their eyes and falling back, step by halting step.

Once he was at the entrance, he wrapped the chain quickly around his wrist, then jumped up, catching the top of the lintel. He moved his body, rearing his legs back, then, feet forward, used the momentum to shove at the undead still trying to come at him. The strength of the shove sent them tumbling back, into the group behind them, sending them crashing down the stairs.

Kurapica swung back and let go, landing on his feet. He nearly lost his balance, but managed to stay upright. He grabbed the doors and slammed them shut, shoulder pushing against one, foot in front of the other. He wrapped the chain around the handles and looked around for the padlock. He found it in two pieces on the ground. The lock was no longer usable, but the U-shaped piece of metal that made the top could hold for a few seconds, long enough for Kurapica to make a run for the rig. Maybe.

He leaned down to pick up the broken piece of metal and heard one of the boys whistling. They'd made it off the roof. Good. His fingers grazed the piece of metal, but then there was a heavy thud against the doors and he nearly lost his balance. With a frustrated groan, he rammed his shoulder into the door again, hard. He heard commotion from the other side, and quickly bent to grab the broken piece of the lock. Another bang loosened the chain, and he shoved the doors closed again. He grabbed the chain and tightened it, then slid the piece of metal in the ends, half-securing it so he could—hopefully—make his escape.

It wouldn't hold for long.

Sending a prayer to whatever gods might be listening, Kurapica gave the doors one last shove, then sprinted across the rood as fast as his lithe body would go. It was so dark, but he was thankful for the moonlight when he caught sight of the rig's anchors. Using his good hand to jump over the parapet, he grabbed the chain the rig was hanging from with the other and slid down at vertiginous speed, twisting inside and letting go just in time to hit the platform.

Safe, adrenaline pumping, he had a moment of pain-free rush, before falling to his knees and curling around his hand. It simultaneously felt like it was on fire and like it had been crushed and all his bones had turned to dust. He gasped, trying to catch his breath, both from the exertion and the pain, rushing sound in his ears like he was standing next to a great waterfall. For a second, he felt so dizzy he thought he might faint, but the feeling passed, the sound quieted, and he could now hear the worried, fervent questions from his friends.

"Are you ok?!"

"Hey, talk to me, Kurapica!"

"Please be ok!"

"Kurapica!"

"I'm fine!" Kurapica gasped, raising his good hand. "Forgot about my wounded hand. Fuck, that hurt."

There were two audible sigh of relief, then all three of them sat on the platform, taking this moment to reassure themselves that they had made it out. Kurapica panted and gasped, sitting with his knees up against his chest, wounded hand hidden against his stomach. He could feel himself break into cold sweat, the adrenaline burning out from his veins, leaving him in pain and shaking like a leaf. Gon leaned his weight against his left side, his presence not as uncomfortable as Kurapica might have thought. After a moment of consideration, Killua shifted to his other side and sat with his back to the blond, though he also leaned his weight onto Kurapica. It was oddly comforting to have the two boys with him, their warm bodies slowly calming the shivers until Kurapica managed to find his breathing again.

Eventually, Kurapica managed a deep breath and slowly let it out. He could hear groans and broken screeches from the rooftop up above, but for now the undead seemed to have lost track of where they were. He didn't want to know whether they would fling themselves off the roof if they caught sight of them down on the rig. His hand still throbbed painfully though, and he glanced around, trying to find this other rooftop the boys had mentioned they could use to flee the building, but it was too dark to properly gauge the distance with his head still dizzy from the pain and adrenaline. He sighed again and leaned his head back against the railing he was leaning against, the heavy metal bar extremely uncomfortable against his skull. His heart still felt like it was trying to gallop right out of his chest.

Slowly, despite the soundtrack of groans and cries, helped along by the pressure of the two boys pressing against his sides, his heart rate calmed as well and, in thanks, he linked his pinky fingers with those of his two friends and closed his eyes.

He didn't sleep, per se, the situation still far too precarious for him to let go entirely, but he drowsed a little, roused occasionally by the throbbing pain from his hand. Slowly, he started noticing the light change and opened his eyes to a predawn sky, lighter in the east, but still dark enough overhead to get glimpses of stars. He unhooked his fingers from Gon's and Killua's and started straightening up, when a loud sound came from above, then another, and another.

Gunfire.

The sound roused the boys by his sides and they all looked up, wide eyed and suddenly very, very awake. Who would be crazy enough to use guns outside of the camp? It was bound to attract every undead creatures in the city to their position. The three boys moved away from the wall side of the rig and stood on the far side, craning their necks, trying to see what was happening on the rooftop.

"Watch out!" Gon cried, throwing himself sideways, right into Kurapica, who grabbed the railing as the rig started rocking dangerously from the sudden movement. A screeching undead thing fell right by where Gon had stood, clipping the edge of the rig, which made it swing with stomach-flipping motions. The thing tried to grip the railing, but Killua cursed and moved, quick as lighting, kicking its hand until it let go with a gut-wrenching scream.

More gunshots were coming from above them, loud as the sound echoed against the empty buildings.

"We gotta get off this rig before one of those things hits us," Killua said, grabbing one bag and throwing it to a rooftop to Kurapica's right.

The blond eyed the roof, and its distance from the rig, and let out a shaky breath. It wasn't an impossible distance, but the height they were at assured him a quick but painful death should he miss the leap. Cursing softly under his breath, he grabbed his own bag and threw it. When he turned, Killua had already seized the last bag, so Kurapica spared a second to glance upwards as the boy threw it as well.

He couldn't really see what was happening, but he could sort of discern darker, human-shaped shadows as the sky lightened further. Killua backed away from his spot, then strode back, leaped on the railing, one hand around the chain holding that side up, then he jumped across, tucking himself into a roll as he landed on the other building. The rig started swinging wildly again and Kurapica held onto the railing for dear life with one hand, the other grabbing the back of Gon's shirt by instinct, though the boy was already holding onto the railing himself. Pain shot through his hand and up his arm and he hissed.

There was a pause in the shooting above, and a female voice said, "Cover me!" and the sounds of heavy boots hitting the roof above. The rig slowed its motion and Gon moved out of Kurapica's grip to move to the far side. There he stood, holding on, and Kurapica moved opposite him, trying to stabilize the rig.

"You go first," Kurapica told the younger boy.

"You're hurt," Gon protested.

"And I'm immune," the blond insisted. "If one of these things falls onto the rig, I'm the only one who has a chance. Go!" Gon had a look on his face like he was going to argue, so Kurapica threatened, "Don't make me throw you to that rooftop, Gon. Go!"

"Stop arguing and jump!" Killua called from the other building.

"You'll get us both killed," Kurapica insisted. "I'm safe here for now. Just jump!"

Above, the gunfire started again. Another creature fell off the roof, and that finally made up Gon's mind. He rushed up to the far railing, Kurapica only just managing to get out of his way and flatten himself against the wall side of the rig. Then Gon was leaping across to the roof and Kurapica was too busy trying not to get thrown off the platform to see him land. As it swung, it hit the wall repeatedly, dangerously close to a large window. It thankfully hit brick instead, but the metal rang, vibrating up Kurapica's hands and arms, shooting more lancing pain from his injury. Gods, his hand hurt like hell already, like the wound needed help to make this even harder than it needed to be. He moved to the middle of the rig and grabbed the wall side railing with his good hand, then tried to use his weight to stabilize the platform again.

He'd only just managed, when something heavy landed behind him, startling him. He whirled on himself, nearly losing his balance, knife out of its sheath and into his good hand, the other still clinging to the railing. He was aiming around throat level, but his wrist was caught in a firm, nearly painful grip and he was left staring in the dark, cold eyes of the man he had been spying on just a few hours prior.

"Kuroro," he breathed out, the relief nearly taking him to his knees.

The man in question gave him a slow blink. "That would have taken my head clean off," he commented. Kurapica was about to apologize but Kuroro added, "Good reflexes."

Kurapica didn't know what to think or do, his body still buzzing with the second adrenaline rush of the night. "Uh, thanks."

He dislodged his arm and Kuroro let him go without further comment. Kurapica resheathed his knife and managed a proper breath. He held onto the railing with his good hand and let go with the other, wincing at the pain. He tried to flex his fingers and let out another hiss. The other man stood there, watching him, and it was making him feel a little self-conscious. He glanced at him.

"Were you worried about me?" he asked, confused. They weren't expected back at camp until that afternoon at the earliest.

"No," the Spider Head said, cocking his head to one side as if confused by the question. The disappointment surprised Kurapica, and he bit his lower lip to keep his face free of it, but something must have shown because Kuroro continued, "I've seen you fight. You can take care of yourself. I wasn't worried. I simply thought you might appreciate the help regardless."

Kurapica's blue eyes flew back to meet Kuroro's dark ones. "I-" he began, then realized that he had no idea what he was meant to say. In the end, he settled for a simple, "Thank you."

Kuroro inclined his head. "You're welcome."

"Kurapica!" Gon called from the roof nearby. "What's going on?"

Kurapica turned, stepping away from Kuroro and the other boys could now see who had jumped on the rig.

Killua huffed. "Stop flirting and let's go already!"

Kurapica was going to kill him. Maybe he should just throw him off the roof. He gauged the distance he would have to jump again, seeing better now as the sun was finally coming up.

"Dancho!" a voice boomed from above, and the blond startled and looked up. The large man was one Kurapica had seen before. He was fairly sure that was the one named Ubougin. "Coast's clear," the man reported, then stepped away from the parapet and out of Kurapica's range of sight."

The blond turned a questioning gaze on the Spider Head.

Kuroro canted his head to the side again, index finger and thumb at his chin. After a moment, he finally explained, " We noticed the mob heading your way soon after you left yesterday. We kept an eye on them for a while, but despite the lack of Screamers, they were staying as a group and going straight for you. We decided a raid was in order."

Kurapica's brows furrowed. "There's something really strange about this bunch," he said. He remembered the lock being cut. "I think they had help from the living."

Kuroro's gaze bore into his. "The living and the dead working together?" he asked, but whatever he was going to say was momentarily set aside as the rig started ascending.

Kurapica let out a soft sound of surprise, tightening his hand on the railing. Kuroro's hand gripped his side, keeping him upright, and the blond felt heat all the way to his core, and it wasn't because the man's hand was warm or anything of the sort. He turned away, dislodging it, and gestured downwards at the two boys.

"I'll meet you downstairs," he called, just loud enough for them to hear. He glanced at the man with him. "You're positive the area's clear now?"

Kuroro's answer was to tilt his head back and call, "Feitan!" The short man peeked over the parapet. "Make sure that building's clear too. Take whoever will go with you."

The man disappeared without comment and Kuroro turned his attention back to the blond. "Once we're back at camp and the medic has had a look at your hand, I will want to hear a full report."

Kurapica made a face. "Don't act like my boss," he grouched. Kuroro blinked, and the blond huffed. "I think it's important to tell you what happened, but calling it a full report is like I'm just one of your underlings, and I'm not."

Kuroro digested that slowly, intense gaze still unnervingly focused on him. "Noted," he finally said, just as the rig drew level with the parapet. Kuroro jumped over first, then Kurapica followed, more slowly and favouring his injured hand. Holding it close to his stomach, he looked around the roof and saw more people than he expected. They were gathering the former undead—now formally very dead—onto a pyre of sort, clearly intending to burn them.

"Come," Kuroro said, hand on his shoulder turning him away from the sight. "I'll accompany you and the boys back to the camp, where you can have the medic assess your hand. We can have a formal meeting after."

Kurapica turned his head to take one last look at the carnage, then he faced resolutely away and lead Kuroro away, eager to be away from the terrible stench.

He had survived another day.

more notes: reviews and give me life..