Title: Antidisestablishmentarianism (2?)
Author: WolfPilot06
Pairings: Many and Varied (Mainly Tsuzuki x Hisoka)
Category: Humor, fluff, angst, many clichés made fun of, shonen ai/yaoi, squick, misuse of stuffed elephants, wildly OOC Muraki, mussed up Tatsumi
Notes: Part 2 of the insanity continues! Here we'll have our muse section…Even though this author doesn't really have any muses except Squall and Seifer from Final Fantasy 8 and occasionally Hisoka. D Okay, then…This is the author's Schizophrenic Section!

Wolf::chortles evilly: Bah ha ha, my favorite part…

Tsuzuki::stares at her: And I thought that only Muraki was sadistic enough to actually enjoy this stuff.

Wolf: Oh, no, you're quite safe, Tsuzuki. Only 'Soka-chan needs be subjected to such wonderful torture and angst.

Tsuzuki: That doesn't make me feel better! In fact, that makes me feel worse! And what's with this toy elephant thing? Where exactly did the creepy thing "touch" 'Soka-chan? And that reminds me! Only I'm allowed to call Hisoka "'Soka-chan"!

Wolf: Calm down, Tsuzuki-san. Much will be revealed in this chapter…Mwa ha ha ha ha…

Hisoka: That is, once you let the chapter start, you sadistic-

Wolf: Ah-ah-ah…no swearing, Hisoka, unless it's in the fic. Must remember Wolf's rules of propriety.

Hisoka::snorts: Propriety my-

Wolf: HISOKA::frightening glare; holds up Inspiration Duck threateningly:

Hisoka: O.O;;

Wolf:D Alright, beginning fic now! (1)

Hisoka woke slowly, a dull ache throbbing through his head. Wearily, he tried to reach up to rub at his temples, hoping to massage away his headache and was brought abruptly to attention when he realized that he could not move his hands. Alarm flared in his mind and he began to struggle, finding that his hands were bound high above his head and his legs spread apart and similarly bound. His panic only grew when he found he could not see, though he widened his eyes as much as he could, attempting to see some light. Was he blind?

A deep, maliciously amused chuckle came from nearby and he turned his head in the direction of the sound, a rush of fear rendering him into a young, weak boy again. He moved his lips, somehow relieved as a small whimper escaped from his mouth; at least he was not mute, but shame came over him at his weakness almost immediately after the sound was made.

"Good morning, little doll." A familiar voice sang softly. Hisoka shuddered as he felt a cool hand caress the side of his face and strained to get away from the cruel touch, pulling against his bonds futilely. A cold blade pressed against his throat suddenly and he froze, swallowing hard and feeling the sharp edge press into his tender skin slightly. Though he no longer feared death, being dead already, he knew that this person possessed power beyond power to hurt him to the extent where he wished he could die.

"Muraki." The name came out as a hiss, hanging in the silent air ominously. The hand caressing his face moved lower, cupping his neck before pressing delicate fingertips to his sharply defined collarbone.

"Beautiful." The man murmured, brushing the back of his hand against Hisoka's skin. A shiver ran through the boy's slight frame at the pure lust and malevolence in the man's voice.

"Muraki," Hisoka repeated, beginning to regain some of his senses and drawing his courage together. Suddenly, an irate frown spread across his forehead. "Hold on, aren't you after Tsuzuki? I thought you got tired of me already."

The hand stilled and he could almost feel the man's irritation. Oh wait, he could feel the man's irritation, being an empath and all. He flinched as Muraki resumed his ministrations, a sound that was half a whimper, half a moan escaping from his lips.

"Oh no. Not at all. I only pretended to, you know…Tsuzuki-san is quite beautiful, but all I really wanted from him was that powerful, regenerating body of his. I wanted to bring Saki back to life, but that wouldn't quite work now that his head's been burned away." He paused briefly, pursing his lips in annoyance, "That was quite unwarranted, in my book."

Hisoka would have stared at him in amazement, had he not been blindfolded.

"W-what?" he managed to sputter, "That's all? So what was with the lewd comments? And all those unwanted sexual advances? And…and the 'annoying brat' insults?"

"Oh, those." Muraki sounded almost dismissive, "A cover, nothing more. I wouldn't have been quite as convincing in my pursuits if Tsuzuki-san thought I still wanted you alive- well, as alive as you could be- now, would I?"

"You're a sick bastard." Hisoka accused. He felt Muraki's hair brush against the bare skin of his nick languidly as the doctor nodded.

"Yes, I am." Muraki agreed calmly. Hisoka growled and bucked, trying to throw the other man off of his vulnerable body. To his disgust, Muraki only settled more firmly over his stomach and tapped his nose with one finger, his voice mildly amused and mock-scolding. "Now, my beautiful doll, behave yourself."

Hisoka hissed in response, furious at being treated like an insolent puppy. Muraki hummed in response, shifting to the side slightly as he rummaged through the pockets of his discarded coat for some unknown object. The boy flinched as his blindfold was removed, the dim light filtering through broad, stained glass windows too bright for his suddenly sensitive eyes. Blinking several times, Hisoka turned his head, trying to assess his surroundings. There really wasn't all that much to assess. It looked as if they were in an abandoned, dilapidated church, the rotting pews giving off the faint musty odor of mold and decaying wood, draped with layers upon layers of pale dust and fine gossamer filaments of spider webs spun by long-dead arachnids. A majestic cross rose at the head of the aisle, casting a long shadow across the faded red carpeting and tarnished gold candlesticks lined along one wall of the empty cathedral.

Muraki chuckled, the sound almost merry as he trailed something cool and damp down Hisoka's chest in lazy patterns. The boy's breath hitched and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he prepared himself for the inevitable slicing pain.

"It's beautiful here, isn't it, my doll?" the doctor said affably, pretending like he wasn't about to cut Hisoka up into little itty-bitty ribbons. Apparently, Muraki took Hisoka's little whimper as an affirmative answer as he nodded agreeably and continued to trail whatever he was holding along the existing crimson scar lines on Hisoka's exposed torso. "Would you believe that this is almost identical to the church where I first met Tsuzuki-san? It was quite gorgeous that day. I was praying to whatever god resided in that cathedral that I would be able to meet you again. Seems my wish came true, ne?"

Another whimper. Muraki was quite happy at this point and he even rested his chin upon his free hand, propping himself up above his trembling victim, smiling in seeming benevolence down at his captive.

"I was quite touched to learn that you became a Shinigami for my sake, dearest doll. Seems as if I wasn't the only one who enjoyed our little game." Hisoka's eyes snapped open at that, fury burning in their emerald depths as he raised his head to snap out a furious response- and froze.

Instead, when Hisoka finally managed to regain his voice, what came out was, "What are you doing?"

Muraki glanced up from where he was gleefully drawing along Hisoka's skin with a bright red Crayola marker.

"Drawing!" he responded cheerfully. Hisoka screeched in rage, bucking wildly, struggling to escape his tormentor.

"You bloody idiot!" Hisoka raged, "Don't you know that takes forever to wash away?" (2)

"But Oriya-san took away my knife." Hisoka shuddered, turning away from the disturbing sight of Muraki pouting. "It wouldn't do if the curse marks washed right away, now would it?"

A wail of dismay. "B-but…Crayola."

"Hold still, doll, you'll make me color outside the lines."(3)

Three hours had passed since Kurosaki-kun's mysterious disappearance, and already Tsuzuki was in a full-blown panic, almost tearing out his hair in frustration and ready to call out his Shikigami at the least provocation. Tatsumi had barely been able to keep the violet-eyed Shinigami from blowing up an innocent mailbox that had gotten in his way as they left Muraki's deserted apartment building, receiving more than a few bewildered looks from the bystanders as he locked arms around the struggling Tsuzuki and literally hauled him away from the scene of the mailbox's imminent fulmination4. With the town's best interests in mind, the secretary of JuOhCho set Tsuzuki to doing something a bit more constructive and less destructive than blowing up postal containers.

Now his ex-partner was sitting on the floor in the middle of the office, sorting through piles and piles of outdated documents and folding an occasional messenger fuda, which he would absently send winging through the window before resuming his arduous search through the mountains of files and records, amethyst eyes tracking down each page rapidly before turning to the next. What he was looking for was Muraki's records, any tantalizing tidbit of information that could possibly lead to the discovery of the silver-haired doctor's location and subsequent annihilation.

Tatsumi had conveniently forgotten to mention the GuShouShin's recently updated computer filing system when he gave Tsuzuki this task.

The shadow master himself was currently trying to organize a kind of counterstrike against Muraki when they found him, trying to avoid the inevitable property destruction and financial backlash were Tsuzuki allowed to take his vengeance against his and Hisoka's chronic (and literal) pain in the ass himself. So far, he had gained as willing soldiers Wakaba, armed to the teeth with all sorts of fuda, Terazuma, pointed ears twitching irritably at having to go after "the kid" with "the idiot", and Watari, bearing with him a fluffy ball of owl and a beaker of unknown substance, though the roiling vomit colored potion did not give Tatsumi any doubts as to the unpleasantness of its supposed purpose. Then again, the one potion long ago that had been a disturbing brown-black color had turned out to be a convenient cure-all for minor hexes and curses. Watari had been quite disappointed in his toffee-flavored concoction; it had been yet another side product in his never-ending quest for a sex-changing potion.

At that moment, as if Tatsumi's thoughts had summoned him, the mad blond scientist himself popped his head through Tatsumi's office door, grinning madly and looking for all the world as if he was about to go off and cause some chaos with his newest batch of sex-changing-potion-wannabe. Idly, the secretary inventoried in his mind what he had eaten that day and ensured, for the sake of his tenuous sanity, that he had gotten all his donuts and coffee from the Krispy Kreme shop in America he loved so much and that Watari had never gone near them. He opened his mouth to speak, blinked at Watari, and changed what he was about to say.

"What in the world are you wearing?"

Amber eyes winked mischievously as Watari came all the way into Tatsumi's office to fully display his outfit. Clad in camouflage greens and browns from the tips of his steel-toed boots to the dark jungle-green bandanna nestled amongst the blond locks it was meant to tame, Watari looked as if he was an American soldier just returning from the battlefields in Vietnam- though considerably less scathed and dirty. On one shoulder he toted a heavy-looking machine gun that looked as if it had been subjected to Watari's innovation-via-questionable-mechanical-engineering-skills. Across his chest was strapped an ammunition belt and around his belted waist he carried various and sundry war things. To Tatsumi's bewildered eyes, the scientist looked much more suited to take on the role of Rambo than he was to take on an evil, sadistic doctor by the name of Muraki.

"Do you like it?" Watari gushed, turning around with his arms extended to the side for Tatsumi's observing benefit. Tatsumi only stared at Watari some more, one hand absently rising to push up his glasses, which had slid down his nose with his surprise. The blond fiddled with his ammunition belt and flashed his trademark million-watt grin at the stunned shadow master, 003 swooping around his head for effect. Tatsumi stared again. Even 003 had a tiny green bandanna strapped around his/her/its round head. "Well?"

"Watari-san…" Tatsumi began, pushing up his glasses again. "Are you truly planning to go out wearing…that?"

Watari pouted, surveying his outfit sulkily at Tatsumi's less-than-enthusiastic response.

"Well, yeah."

"Would it be terribly rude of me to question your sanity at this point?"

"No, not really." The erratic scientist conceded.

"Alright then. I question your sanity."

Watari gave him a withering look before looking at his clothes again.

"…What's wrong with it?"

"Everything, Watari-san. It looks as if you're about to…I don't know, wage war on some third-world country or something."

"Aw, but…I mean, we're going to be fighting Muraki, so I thought…"

"Watari-san, for my sake and for the sake of anyone else in this office, please change." Tatsumi said painfully, adjusting his glasses again.

"Oh, okay, but I think you're being awfully unreasonable about this." Watari accused, turning to leave. Tatsumi looked up from the quarterly report he had just picked up, mouth open to respond. His eyes widened.

"Watari-san. Freeze." He whispered, getting up from his desk slowly. Watari immediately stopped, turning slightly to look at Tatsumi in bewilderment. The secretary approached him stealthily, hands spread wide at his sides as he stared intently at something on the blond scientist's back.

"What is it, Tatsumi-san?" Watari asked nervously, "Do I have a 'Kick Me' sign on my back or something?"

Tatsumi shook his head, eyes fixed on whatever it was he was staring at. He crouched, preparing to leap.

"Worse, Watari-san." Tatsumi whispered, "Tell me, how many white, furry inanimate objects do you know that have crimson eyes, a trunk, and the ability to magically come back to life?"

Terazuma Hajire blinked several times as a small white blur ran past his desk, followed by the uncharacteristically mussed secretary of JuOhCho and the resident mad scientist. The unlit cigarette fell from his parted lips as several documents went flying into the air in the wake of the two Shinigamis' passage. A pointed ear twitched slightly in surprise when he realized that Watari was wearing camouflage greens. He shrugged. He'd seen weirder things.

"Catch it, Watari-san! I'll try to herd it towards you!"

"Towards me? Why me? Can't I push it towards you? You're the one with control over shadows!"

"I…er…Just catch it, Watari-san!" Tatsumi's voice was severe as he stood straight, raising one arm as the shadows in the room began to flicker. Terazuma raised himself slightly in his chair as he tried to see just what the other two were trying to "herd". His ear twitched again as it picked up the sound of some unearthly squeaking coming from the corner that Tatsumi and Watari were facing. His eyes widened. No…the only other time he had heard that sound was when "The Kid" had been telling his story in the office earlier today. He got up and walked closer.

"That thing is still alive?"

Tatsumi winced as Terazuma's aggravated growl reached his ears. The grumpy former detective's "joined" body with his Shikigami not only allowed him to have unusually acute hearing and inhuman physical traits, but had also blessed him with the ability to growl at a range that simply raked on Tatsumi's eardrums. Keeping his blue eyes trained on the hissing pachyderm backed in the corner, Tatsumi spared a brief nod for Terazuma.

"Evidently, the garbage incinerator wasn't able to destroy it." Tatsumi said distastefully. Watari had picked up a pad of paper from a coworker's desk and was currently scribbling upon it madly, creating, no doubt, another atrocity to bring to life.

"Yeah, either that, or it crawled out before it burned." Watari chimed, the tip of his tongue protruding from between his lips as he concentrated on whatever he was drawing. Tatsumi made a sound of disgust as Omocha pawed at the air and hissed, raising its trunk threateningly. It didn't matter that the elephant was about the size of a teddy bear. Its blood-red eyes were scary enough. And the fact that it had touched The Kid there…

"Stand back, Tatsumi-san, Watari-san." Terazuma warned, reaching inside for his Shikigami. He found the beast lurking in his memories of Wakaba and forcibly began to drag the creature out. 'Stupid Kuro.' He thought, 'Maybe this is overkill, but that thing is seriously creepy.'

"Ha ha," he grinned at the white stuffed elephant and began to transform, "You may be able to argue with a garbage incinerator, but try arguing with this!"

"Terazuma-san, don't-!"

'Owwie' was the thought that came to mind as Hisoka slowly regained consciousness. His entire body ached from the torture Muraki had inflicted upon it. Dimly, he was aware that his head was tucked beneath someone's arm- Muraki's, no doubt- and that they were still tangled together upon the site of his humiliation. A faint murmur reached his ears and he growled as Muraki reached out and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. He pushed against the doctor's chest futilely, wincing as something sharp dug into his back. Reaching around, Hisoka pulled out the colorful piece of cardboard that had been digging into him painfully, flicking the black arrow in irritation.

"Damnit, Muraki." He hissed, "Couldn't you find a punishment less heinous than this? I wouldn't even mind being called 'doll' and being subjected to whatever sadistic torture your sick mind could come up with if I could avoid playing Twister all night."

"But it's fun, doll." Muraki slurred, tugging Hisoka's smaller form closer. "Sleep now…"

"Let go of me. Your breath stinks."

Hisoka cringed as Muraki pouted again.

"Muraki, don't pout." Hisoka tried again to pull away as Muraki's hand started wandering along his unclothed form. "It really doesn't fit the evil villain image."

"But it makes me all the more loveable." Muraki protested mildly.

"I wasn't aware that you were all that loveable to begin with." Hisoka retorted, then flinched back violently. "Stop touching me there!"

"That reminds me…guess who I brought along?"

Hisoka's luminous green eyes widened in fear as Muraki reached for the bag he had previously discarded and began to reach into it. A pale, furry trunk made its appearance. Hisoka paled.

"Oh no…not Omocha!"

"Say hello to bouya, Omocha." Muraki said cheerfully, presenting the white elephant with a flourish to Hisoka's terrified face.

"Omocha's missed you, my doll." The silver-haired doctor continued maliciously, "Almost as much as I've missed you."

Hisoka whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Tsu…zuki…! Please save me!"5

Meanwhile, in Meifu, Tsuzuki sneezed.

TBC
Wolf: O.o;; Is this thing ever going to end?

Tsuzuki::sulkily: It all depends on you.

Wolf: Stop pouting, Tsuzuki-san! It really looks quite silly on a man of your age.

Tsuzuki::facefaults: I'm not that old!

Wolf: You're something like ninety-six years old, Tsuzuki-san. Even though you look twenty-six, that's still no reason to pout.

Hisoka::glaring at Wolf: This had better end soon.

Wolf::looking thoughtfully at the fic: It seems to have developed a quasi-plot of some kind.

Hisoka: Plot? What plot? All that's going on is Tsuzuki randomly folding messenger fuda and angsting over a pile of documents, me getting tormented by Muraki by a white, stuffed elephant named Omocha, Tatsumi, Watari, and Terazuma going ballistic against Omocha's twin sibling, and Muraki acting wildly out of character.

Muraki::goes skipping by wearing a daisy chain:

Hisoka/Tsuzuki/Tatsumi/Watari::massive sweatdrop:

Tsuzuki: Way out of character.

Wolf::evil laughter:

Tsuzuki: So…next time, on Antidisestablishmentarianism!

Hisoka::looking at the as-of-now-unwritten-script: Um. I get tortured more by Muraki.

Tsuzuki::also looking at the nonexistent script: I…go ballistic? Go wildly out of character? Do something completely impossible and actually get my revenge on Muraki?

Hisoka: We can hope.

Tsuzuki: Yeah…so…

Hisoka/Tsuzuki::look at each other for a few moments:

Hisoka::small smile: Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Tsuzuki?

Tsuzuki: Probably, Hisoka. How do they get that chocolate coating on Snickers ice cream bars without melting the ice cream?

Hisoka::sweatdrop: That's not what I was thinking.

Tsuzuki::blinks: Oh? Then what were you thinking of?

Tatsumi::drily: It's time to take over the world?

Hisoka::rolls his eyes: No, I was thinking we could go off and screw like confused rabbits, but I've kind of lost the mood now.

Tsuzuki::blinks: Now that was an out-of-character comment if I ever heard one.(6)

GAH! End!

Wolf

(7)

(1) If you didn't realize, this is making fun of the endless amount of "muse sections" that a frightening multitude of authors is prone to having. I plan to have one at the end, as well. It was actually kind of hard to pull off; I'm not used to talking to the voices in my head.

(2) Heheh, okay, so most of you thinking that Crayola markers are easy to wash away…not so. Those supposedly "washable" markers can take up to a week or two to wash away if there's enough of it. Especially those hard-to-wash-away colors like purple. Trust me. I know.

(3) Yeah, so maybe this entire fic isn't only dealing with clichés. Just like Omocha, the Crayola marker is an incident of my own making. I'm allowed to have fun with the characters if I want, right? Including wildly blowing their character out of proportion! (Insert Evil Laughter™)

(4) Thank goodness for thesauruses. Don't usually use them, but my vocabulary is failing me with this cold-stuffed head of mine. Whoot, you learn something new every day. "Fulmination"!

(5) Er, so, well, this is kind of supposed to make fun of the Hisoka in "Hisoka-gets-kidnapped-and-tortured-repeatedly-by-Muraki" stories, in which Hisoka repeatedly cries out in a very pathetic way for "Tsuzuki to come and rescue him". O.o;; It didn't work, as I only put it in once, ne?

(6) It's disturbing. Muse sections grow like tumors…they just keep getting bigger and bigger. O.o;; I got waaayy too into this one. Anywho, yeah, this is addressing those fics that have a muse section at both the beginning and the end of the fic and always are like "Yeah, in the next chapter, this and this'll happen, but now you have to wait, ah ha ha…!"

(7) And what is with these footnotes?