Hunter Works - by Yomi

Chapter 18

The Darkness begins to gather

Saturday, 11:30am, Andelain Towers

Hisoka woke up with a start then cursed as he was blinded by the spears of sunlight stabbing into his eyes. Without the need to look at the clock, he knew that it had to be late morning, or even early afternoon. The first thought which popped into his mind was 'impossible'; he hadn't gotten drunk the night before so he wasn't trying to sleep off a hangover, nor was he partying hard either. Apart from these sorts of situations, he was, for a lack of eloquent words, a light sleeper and an early riser.

"Get some more sleep," a voice above said and a soft hand firmly pulled his head back down into a pool of warmth. Someone was methodologically scratching him behind the ears, then massaging the tightened cords of muscle on his neck and Hisoka struggled to recall the events of the earlier nights before he drifted back into sleep from those wonderful sleep-inducing sensations.

But his mind was screaming at him, yelling him to pull out of that magical comfort zone and deal with a pressing reality. And said pressing reality began to eat away the murky fog of slumber and flashes of people sitting on the couch, strained words, horrid expressions of hate and an incredible sense of urgency flooded through the flimsy barriers that had fought to contain it. His cousin Iori was neck deep in a shitload of trouble, and Hisoka was damned if he was going to spend another moment sleeping.

"No!" an incredibly violent hold pushed him back down seeking to drown him back into the depths of unconsciousness but this time he hit back, refusing to be beaten. He snapped his eyes open once more and aggressively twisted his body away from anything remotely warm, consequently landing butt first on the hard (not to mention chilling cold) marble ground.

Illumi's lips were pursed into a tight grimace and his fine pale hands reached out to touch Hisoka's face. This time, he shirked away and scrambled messily onto his feet and placed himself so that there was a table between them. Illumi's frown deepened.

"Now why do you have to do that," he reproachfully asked, already knowing the answer, "don't you want to have some more rest?"

Illumi made to move forward, to broach the moat that was the coffee table between them, and to draw him back into the field of dreams. Hisoka frantically shook his head – he was needed here, awake and conscious, to deal with problems that wouldn't go away on its own. He had no time to escape from his responsibilities, nor did he wish to. His defensiveness was construed as a sign of challenge by the pale man standing opposite him whose passive scowl betrayed more determination and resolve than a soldier on a suicide mission.

"I've got stuff to do today Illumi. I don't have time to sit about – don't come another step towards me! I'm warning you!"

The black haired man instantly changed tack, withdrawing into his demure and vulnerable form. He took a light step back and sat down on the couch, patting the spot beside him. Illumi presented him with a small smile.

"Why don't you come and take a seat Hisoka. There's no need to get angry or upset here, come, sit –"

"ARGH! What kind of idiot do you take me for?!" he traced a wide circumference around his patiently seated landlord and made for the haven of his room, leaving the question of how Illumi managed to send him into the trancelike state of sleep aside for another day. He had a lock installed on his door right? He'd better have, otherwise he'd never leave be able to leave this apartment today and he counted so many things to do in his mind.

Top priority – find Salar and knock out his teeth.

Second priority – after Salar finishes coughing up blood, demand to know what he said to Iori.

Third priority – having finished dancing on Salar's ribs because the latter is unlikely to talk, threaten to shave off his eyebrows.

Fourth priority – proceed with other forms of excruciatingly painful torture.

Oh yes, many things to do.

"Stay right where you are," Illumi's cold voice stung his ears. The pale cream coloured door of his room was but a few mere centimeters from his nose yet his body refused to obey him and he felt an irrational anger well up, heating his cheeks. He glared at Illumi's impassive back and it reminded him just how cold and emotionless Illumi was capable of truly being. His fingers involuntarily crept up to finger his throat to caress non-existent markings that were only too fresh and emblazoned in his memory.

The man on the couch turned and caught him massaging his neck and sighed. With the infinite grace of a cheetah stalking its prey, Illumi fluidly slid off the couch and was by the magician's side before he could protest. His soft, supple hands pulled reluctant ones towards him and only the slightest encouragement had Hisoka complying with Illumi's each and every whim.

"I want to go out," he automatically protested before the latter could get a word in. Hisoka moved to the far end of the couch and placed a cushion between them, not bothering to hide his look of mistrust for those devilish hands. He redirected his attention back on the near expressionless face, and again noted Illumi's dissatisfaction in the way he pouted.

"You were going to ring your aunt today and tell her about the situation," he began calmly with the professionalism of a troubled children's counsellor, "remember? I'm sure your aunt hasn't been able to contact your cousin ever since he turned…feral."

Illumi spoke the last word with distaste; a man who had just sampled a glass of milk that had turned sour couldn't have put more disgust in his voice than Illumi had just done. Hisoka gripped Illumi's front shirt and shook him hard, a growl rumbling deeply in the base of his throat. He punched Illumi solid in the jaw, an unjustified blow containing all his pent up frustrations for the way the pale man had acted so aloof to the situation, for his unwillingness to get involved, for his damning lack of compassion and most of all, that blank face which revealed nothing or showed that he had nothing to feel.

A thin line of blood trickled from Illumi's cut lip but his expression betrayed no hurt. Hisoka swore that his second punch was hard enough to knock out a molar or two yet the man didn't even twitch an eyebrow.

Hurting Illumi wouldn't do Iori any good, wouldn't do his aunt any good and certainly wouldn't help him either. He let go of the crumpled front of Illumi's shirt and pulled the limp man to him, shaky fingers gingerly tracing the bruise that was beginning to swell.

"Why are you on Salar's side?" he finally asked, surprising himself with the amount of acidic venom he managed to put into that name.

Illumi leaned into his shoulder and mumbled into his shirt, "I'm not on anyone's side but I don't think confronting Salar about this will help either. We're talking about Northside Hisoka, a place that you and I have no hope of interfering with, despite your good intentions. Let's calm down and think of some more positive and constructive things, please?"

Hisoka's eyes narrowed and Illumi felt the body stiffen beneath him and the arms which encircled him tighten like steel clamps. "Were you going to go out and see him and warn him in advance?"

Illumi uttered an almost inaudible 'no' then leaned closer towards Hisoka to escape the crushing pressure of those arms. He felt the magician's chest sharply rise in a sudden intake of breath and he lazily looked up to see what was wrong.

Just like the dream, the magician's thin lips were closing in, bearing down on his own and before he could draw back, they were hungrily locked in a passionate kiss. Illumi didn't know what he was thinking when his arms lifted on their own accord and firmly encircled Hisoka's neck and his body was gripped by an urge to grind his hips and press his body against the other man. He felt a large hand support the back of his head, roughly entwining the fingers through his black hair to push him closer still (if it were possible) for the deep, wet kiss. Illumi had to fight to pull back for a gulp of air before Hisoka reclaimed the lips and in doing so moved forward and with his body weight pressed the fragile figure against the couch.

The doorbell rang at the most inopportune time.

Both wanted to ignore what they just heard, too intent on concentrating on the sensation of gyrating their bodies against each other in the primal act of lust, the intoxicating scent of the other's sweat and the sweet melodies of the moans of pleasure.

Why wouldn't that damn doorbell stop ringing?

"I've got to get the door," Illumi panted, weakly trying to push Hisoka off. He sucked in a gasp and bit down on his lip as something hot and wet furiously teased a sensitive nerve on his neck and he arched his taunt body closer still, mutely sobbing for more.

Then the pressure was instantly relieved and a cool air rushed in between them as Hisoka jumped up. He marched towards the door, kicking aside the innocent articles of furniture haplessly caught in his way.

"What the fuck do you want!" he growled even before he saw who it was. Legato blinked his golden eyes owlishly at his friend – at his dishevelled hair, his crumpled and messy attire, his apparent display of murderous agitation, his sweaty brow and heaving chest and the tinge of pink in his cheeks.

"I was going to get you to…um…if you'll let me live to tell the tale…see you aunt today to tell her all of what Lee said. So –"

Legato flinched as Hisoka took one large stride out and slammed the door behind him.

"Whatever. Lets go!"



Legato stole a side glance at Hisoka (in particular his reddened ears) as they walked up Glamour Isle, heading towards Elysian. At the pace they were currently supposed to be 'walking' at, it didn't leave Legato with much patience or tolerance for his friend's erratic behaviour. He came to a stop, digging his fingers like a steep trap into Hisoka's shoulder and violently jerked him back to face him. The magician swung around, his dark face livid with rage, and stopped just short of throwing another punch at the blue haired man.

"What is your damn problem this morning Hisoka?" Legato gave Hioska a shove back just to put some more space between them. "I get up today with the kind offer to be your moral support when you break the news to your aunt specifically in mind, and all I get is fucking ingratitude. Did you have another fight with your flat-mate or something?"

Hisoka straightened up his jacket and ignored Legato, spun on his heels leaving his back to him and continued to walk away.

"Don't you give me that attitude Hisoka! You're not going to your aunt's place looking and acting like that! You hear me!" Legato fumed, throwing his hands helplessly into the air then instantly broke into a run to catch up with the stupid man throwing perfectly good advice out the window. When another tap on the shoulder elicited no response nor the constant prodding in the back or a series of questions repeated like a broken tape recorder, Legato narrowed his golden eyes - an indication that he was concocting potions of mischief.

Hisoka's knees buckled and he almost fell flat on his face as a weight suddenly slammed into his back.

"YOU IDIOT BLUESUMMERS! GET OFF!" he roared, working himself up to a frenzied dance that heavily consisted of grunts and growls and the mad stamping of feet. Legato rode the bucking Hisoka like a rodeo champion and he grinned maliciously at Hisoka's futile struggles, squeezing the ribs tighter with his knees.

"Got your attention now have I?" he taunted and snaked one arm across Hisoka's throat for a stronger hold whilst his other free hand went to cruelly twist Hisoka's red ear. "Now can I get some sense into your head or are you going to vent your animalistic behaviour some more?"

"Wow," a soft and silky voice politely remarked behind the pair, much in the fashion of a civilized gentlemen commenting upon the bizarre wonders of nature at a zoo, "it's nice to see two men get along so well, or a little too well shall we say?"

Hisoka ceased his struggles and Legato let go of his ear as his horse spun around to bear down on the newcomer.

"Now now," Dougy continued to tease, "I'm not interested in a threesome but I do have a question for you Hisoka. Did you just leave your apartment? Was Illu still there when you left? I was supposed to have an appoin-er-date with him today and I think I've been stood up."

"Cameron! Oh my god!" Legato hopped off Hisoka's back and dusted himself, his eyes never leaving Dougy's face, his charming smile and the silver tipped fringe. "What a makeover! I couldn't even recognize you with your new hairstyle and everything...found yourself a new manager?"

Dougy's grin broadened, with the magnificence of the sun rising at the crack of dawn and Hisoka's contorted features gave it the relish of victory. "Why yes, Illu is my manager and designer now. He and I have a very good working relationship. I must say we spend a lot of time together and have become real close - that's why he can be so frank and direct with me about my new look and image. What's this Hisoka? Why are you glaring at me now - oh, you can't be seriously be jealous of me already are you? You've got your Hunter studio and Hunter x Hunter series coming up in winter which is going to catapult you to fame and glory. You could well go beyond the heights I achieved in my peak."

Hisoka relented in his unwavering glare by rolling his eyes but he glanced away, unable to trust himself not to kill Dougy with his patented look-of-death since his volatile emotions were running amok and without restraint this morning. The presence of Dougy Cameron only made it worse - not that he had an open dislike for the man or anything (everyone had unanimously agreed that Darien von Drosgen was the Prince of Slime who ruined him, therefore he deserved sympathy) but ever since discovering the 'working relationship' Dougy shared with Illumi, a steady batter of unhealthy emotions began to cook in Hisoka's mind. The way Dougy purred on the word 'Illu' irked him like an undeserved slap on the face.

There was no other possible explanation for Dougy's attachment to Illumi - the slender aqua haired man was using Illumi for his own gain and Cameron was ambitious enough to sink so low. Of course, it was understandable given that he etched out new records in popularity and rendered new definitions to the word 'fame' - you'd want to taste such sweet and intoxicating success again regardless of method. Blinded by his insatiable ambition to rise to the top again, Dougy was probably the one working Illumi to sickness; he probably couldn't give a flying bag of bricks that Illumi was vanishing right in front of their eyes, wasting away as he abandoned his proper meals and dedicated himself completely to his work. Illumi had felt so fragile and delicate, vulnerable in his caress just minutes ago - the jutting collar bone, the ribs which he could count through the shirt, his once magnificent midnight black hair now dull and drab – someone had to pay for that.

Hisoka sneered at Dougy, turning back to him with fresh confidence that could be heard in his voice. "Illumi says he's not feeling so well and wants to take the day off. We are having dinner together tonight."

"That's strange," Dougy's eyebrows immediately shot up and he tapped his pointed chin in thought, "because we had bought tickets to see Cossi fan tutti tonight and had arranged this last -"

Dougy couldn't really remember what happened afterwards. He got the impression that Hisoka and Legato did much of the talking thereafter when he banged the back of his head hard against a brick wall. The last thing he remembered clearly of that afternoon were a pair of eyes that were filled with madness, boring holes into his skull.

The man who appeared from behind him, silently, stealthily with the professionalism of a natural born predator, caught Dougy off guard and shoved him against the red brick wall of the patisserie. Dougy gulped as a hand groped at his lower body. He flinched and whimpered like a frightened puppy.

Oh. Sweet and Compassionate. God! Am I really attracting ravenous gay people?

"Hey!" Legato started to move forward. His hand was halfway up towards taking away the stranger's arm that had pinned Cameron to the wall before a look filled with murderous glee turned his bones to brittle ice.

A stranger, about Hisoka's height, dressed from head to toe in a sharp, black, militaristic uniform had grabbed Dougy Cameron from behind and manhandled him in the blink of an eye before the two other actors could react. Even when they did have time to react, the naked and raw energies of destructive terror emanating from the man debilitated their courage, crippling them of their motivation to help.

The stranger's eyes glittered with malice as his gaze lingered on Dougy's waist. He ripped the sparkling sash off and held the prize in his clawed hand up against the afternoon sun to watch it endlessly sparkle and glimmer on end. Faceted beads of aquamarine and blue zircon had been sewn in to form the magnificent brocade that felt as light as silk and as delicate as down.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, voice thick with boundless desire.

"Excuse me, but who the fuck are you?" Legato pulled the stunned and barely conscious Dougy, who was slumped against the brick wall still in his daze, behind him, "And how bloody dare you go ripping the clothes off people's back!"

The stranger brushed some of his black fringe away from his eyes so that they could all better see just how much of a psychopath he was, and his lopsided smile thereafter sent shivers in places Legato didn't even know he had. The stranger was undeniably handsome with a roguish charm on his gaunt face and his sunken cheeks revealing high cheekbones gave him a dangerous glamour. To Legato right now, he looked more like a man starved of sanity and would kill to get it back.

"I asked, where did you get this?"

Legato mustered all his arrogance and put on his calmest, most condescending face which silently called you 'peasant', "And I asked, who the fuck are you."

The man cocked his head to one side and pressed his blood red lips together in a line of amusement. "You act like Salar. Are you his protégé as well?"

Mentioning Salar's name apparently had adverse effects on Hisoka. The magician pushed Legato aside to confront the stranger and stuck his nose in his face with a firm intentions of saying a piece of his mind before the man's mad laughter of delight robbed him of speech and placed the fear of god in him.

He, Hisoka, the master duelist in Code Duello, was trembling like a bullied schoolboy because he heard a madman laugh. If there is a God, he prayed, please deliver me from this fiend for the good of my eternal soul. I admit that it's not the purest, but it's not the most corrupt either.

The man took initiative and placed the fatal step forward, forcing Hisoka to mutely back down. The stranger made a small noise of disappointment.

"So actors at Anime City aren't such hot shots after all; they just have big mouths and talk big. So, can either of you statues answer me? Who made this? Or give me the maker's number so I can buy the exclusive right to own this."

Legato swallowed. "How do you know Salar?"

The stranger sighed in exasperation and placed his hands on his hips. "Will you tell me if I tell you then?" On Legato's nod, he continued, ripping a black square piece of cloth from his breast pocket to reveal the stunning silver stitched emblem of Vallanor – a serpentine dragon entwined on a pair of crossed swords on a shielded background.

"I'm General Salar's Marshall," he announced and folded his arms across his chest, "Marshall Misha. So – what about my question then? Gimme the damn name of the maker, or do I have to gut you to get it?"

It would take Hisoka two months to fully forgive Legato for disclosing Illumi's name and details to a lunatic who was also hatefully a Vallan. The purity of the silver embroidery on the emblem made Hisoka's blood boil way past natural boiling point resulting in of course steam to shoot out of his ears and nostrils.

Misha scribbled down the information on a scrap piece of paper though he was undeniably fascinated by the teal haired man's reactions to Salar's name. He inwardly laughed again, a harsh and dark sound. How was it that he had become a Vallan anyway, but for the irresistible, irrefutable coercion and enticement that Salar was capable of giving? Misha considered himself lucky – he was disturbed and unbalanced and thus Salar gave him much greater leeway in his actions and pardoned his more minor transgressions than he would with others. Others being people like his (closer than comfortable) protégé Kurei. Sure, Kurei might inherit Salar's Generalship one day, or at least share in his power, but his road and its destination was unenviable.

Being in the same room as Salar was bad enough – the man and his damn ice-blue eyes could pierce your soul and make it bleed, even past the choking fog of madness you throw up as a defence. To touch him – to have to serve him and gradually mould yourself to be like him….unenviable was definitely an unfair understatement to make. Had you subscribed to Buddhist philosophies of karma and retribution or reward from one life to the next, to have to end up in a position where you were constantly within close proximity of Salar made for a very graphic and telling novel. Kurei had either been a mass murderer and rapist for his past ten lives, hence Buddha landed him this unappealing gig to be Salar's protégé or Kurei had been a catholic pedophile for his past ten lives hence Buddha landed him this unappealing gig to be Salar's protégé.

That was not to say that Salar didn't give his people benefits. Kurei was a street rat, dirty, rough and undisciplined. And look who he was now: the strongest chick magnet Anime City hadn't seen for a decade. Girls would drop to their knees and beg for his hand in marriage and he was the perfect boy to bring home to your mother. Salar sharpened his mind and trained his body and the rungs of success were now that much easier to climb.

As for himself – he had his joys on the job. Salar was going to go places beyond his wildest imagination, and he invited anyone willing to join him. Whether it be up to the heavens or down to the deepest caverns of the earth, farther than the depths of Hell, Misha would follow him. Salar would deny it, but they shared a lot in common, so much that it sometimes frightened him. What could he say in his own defence? That he had more humanity and compassion than Salar? When he was in a good mood, perhaps, and when he was not, he never found Salar's orders questionable.

After pocketing the details of one Mr. Illumi Zoldick (who lived in Andelain Towers – Salar's building; must be a potential recruit then), Misha fixed on his most innocent expression and slowly lifted the corners of his lips.

"You gentlemen mind if I ask how you know Salar?"

The teal haired man snorted and turned away whilst his golden eyed friend coughed to clear his throat. "We all grew up together here in Anime City."

"Really now, that's interesting. I could never picture Salar in his youth – it's almost a disturbing idea that a man like him could even have had a childhood. Tell me, was it one filled with innocence or has he always been the diabolical, unscrupulous fiend that he is today?"

Legato flinched at Misha's description of Salar and he shook his head. "No – we've found that Salar has changed ever since he's come back to Anime City. We might even have a bone to pick with him in fact."

Misha had to laugh out loud at that, and his unsettling laughter caused the actors to break into cold sweat and the small voice in the back of their minds to desperately hammer the alarm bells and yell at them to run.

"Get in line – there's a long queue of disgruntled people, lost people, broken people, people whose graves he's danced over, dead ghosts who all have some bone or another to pick with him," he flashed them a grin, "so, what'd he do to you guys?"

The golden eyed man stared at him for a long time before caving in to some internal struggle. He sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets, "We believe that he might have driven my friend's cousin insane."

"And your friend's cousin's name?"

"Iori Yagami."

Misha tsked, racking his brains, "How long ago was this?"

"About two years ago." This time it was Hisoka who replied but he still eyed the Marshall with reserve.

"Sorry, can't help you out on that one. I was in Russia at the time and (praise be to the unseen external forces who sometimes show their good graces) barely had any time to speak with Salar."

Legato cocked his head to one side, taken aback by the man's comments. "You mean you would have helped us if you could? You'd go against your General?"

"Any day," Misha smiled brightly, showing off two rows of immaculate white teeth, "and any time to piss Salar off for the shitty workload that he assigns to me whilst his protégé gets to slack off. I swear that's blatant bias and nepotism, but don't you worry, I'll come up with ways to get back at him. I find that I can be quite creative when it comes to finding ways to rouse his ire."

"I don't need his ire – that won't help. I want bloody answers."

Misha cast him a pitying look, "A lot of people want answers, especially from him. If the other Generals could read the logic behind Salar's actions, half of them wouldn't be tearing their hair out and be suffering from premature balding now would they? But that's just who Salar is – despicable when he feels like it, secretive because he's a smug bastard and a damn braggart because he's a genius. Ah well, he can pull it off, but mortals like us have to bear the brunt of his peacock strutting."

Hisoka growled out another few choice oaths and Misha patted his shoulder in a comradely fashion. "You keep up with the anger as long as you want if it makes you feel better and keeps the insanity at bay, but don't expect a drop of pity or information from him. He doesn't have it in him to feel sorry. I know – I'm his Marshall. On the other hand…for a free drink, we could find a café to sit down at and exchange much needed knowledge - "

"You have nothing we want," Hisoka curtly interrupted and made to walk away but Legato held him back and confided in him.

"Hold on a minute here Hisoka. Misha might not know about Iori, but we could get a lot of information about Salar's modus operandi and glean the intentions and motivations behind his actions from that. It's worth a shot – seriously."

Hisoka didn't want to agree – in fact, Legato's simple request felt more like asking him to get on all fours and crawl across a crackling path of burning hot coals that stretched for ten miles long. Legato turned back to Misha.

"Ok, lets find a place to sit."

Misha gestured uncertainly to Dougy, who was now pointing out to the birds grooming in the trees and laughing and imitating their movements. "You…er…want to bring your friend along?"

"We better. He might start barking after number plates next."



Gladdis' Café was never short on A list celebrities for lunch and weekends were no exception. Legato Bluesummers, along with Hisoka from Hunter Works and a demure but terribly good looking blue-haired man who they addressed as Dougy (the Dougy Cameron?! the waitresses all excitedly gossiped amongst themselves) and another darkly alluring man called Misha sat in their back patio, basking in the afternoon sun over large glasses of ice chocolate.

Misha sipped his drink and looked as eager as a boy on his first day of school. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table as he made his propositions. "I want to know Salar – I want to know about the real him, most preferably about his childhood stories. You want to know the Salar that I'm familiar with, what his goals and aspirations are, correct?"

"More or less," Legato nodded, pedantically centering his tall glass on the placemat, "and in particular, what his plans are for Anime City."

"Me first – tell me about the Salar you once knew. Say for example, has he always been the calculating, conniving cold bastard who would laugh even as children are decapitated around him?"

"You have the most vivid way of describing character, don't you," Bluesummers frowned, physically feeling an urge to shy away, "but short answer no. I would have never described Salar as a cold bastard. He has the capacity to be calculating, because he was always too damn smart, but he was a nice enough guy. Like I said, too smart for everyone, hence was never really able to connect with us to be a real friend.

It was Misha's turn to shy away with his nose delicately wrinkled as he sniffed. "Now you're making me uncomfortable. You saying he used to be an ok guy?"

"As far as we knew, yes," Legato said, nodding slightly. "He turned up to most social functions, wore the right clothes, said the right things but you knew he only did that so he could look like he was fitting in. Half the time, I suspected that he never had fun with the women we invited, nor did he ever really get drunk at our birthday bashes."

"Have fun with women?! THE General Salar have fun with women!" Misha exclaimed, chortling with uncontrollable outrage despite the strange looks other patrons were stealing, "This is too much already. Everyone at Vallanor knows how Salar despises women – hates the creatures like they were the waste of Satan himself and wouldn't go near those things even under Lord Vallissa's orders let alone try to socialize with them. Gods – this is the juicy stuff I'm after – and drink? Salar's too much of a bloody prune to touch alcohol; you've got to hear him lecture us on how insobriety ruins out judgment and abilities, bla bla bla! More! Gimme more!"

Legato fidgeted with the sleeves of his jacket and hesitantly continued, "Has he ever mentioned that he has a brother by blood pact?"

"Hell no!"

"Ever heard him mention someone by the name of Lola?"

Misha stroked his chin in thought, eyes wandering over the checkered table cloth, "'Lola' does seem to strike a chord. I'm thinking….computer department…security, firewalls?"

"Yeah, Lola's on contract to maintain and protect Vallanor's computer systems."

"Correct me if I'm wrong here," Misha shifted in his seat, bringing it forward as his voice dropped low, conspiratorial, "but isn't Lola a female name?"

"It is."

"So…"

"Exactly – we have been just as confused as you ever since they announced it some twelve, thirteen years ago. Lola was Salar's other half (so to speak), the only person who actually looked like they were having fun around him. Then and again, Lola's got a bloody brilliant mind, otherwise Kaéry wouldn't be such a smart little bugger. She might have known what Salar was going on about."

"Hold on a minute here. I have to get this straight, but you're saying that Salar had a friend?"

"Oh, they were closer than friends. So close it made his real brother insecure that he married Lola just after he had turned twenty."

"Real brother? Are we talking about Salar's family now?"

Legato leaned back in his seat and allowed himself the small opportunity to feast upon the newcomer's incredulity. "Why, didn't you know that Salar has a twin brother called Karasu? They are identical twins, down to the hairstyle that's two seasons out of date."

He laughed out loud when Misha almost fell out of his seat and cracks began to appear in his glass of ice coffee because the latter had gripped the decanter so tightly. Misha breathlessly looked at him, trying to get the words out before they stumbled over each other. "There's actually another man, with Salar's face? There is no god."

"Now don't say that; Karasu is a perfectly good man and loyal husband. Just because he shares his brother's face doesn't mean he's Salar."

"Revelation overload. The Salar you describe remotely resembles a human being with feelings. But in his youth, did Salar ever talk on endlessly about dominating the world or something along similar lines?"

"Not at all. He was what we called a 'drifter' – had the brains but didn't know what to do with it. Didn't want to act, didn't have to go to University, played the stock market like he owned it so he never really had to work for money. Was a virtuoso with the cello but didn't develop the musical career either – nothing ever held his attention long enough. This leads me straight onto my question – what have you bastards done to Salar?"

Misha steadily held eye contact and the thought of backing down never once crossed his mind. Inside him, the lull of challenge was beginning to gather force and Misha felt tingling sensations all over.

"Strange question you ask Mr. Bluesummers, because I thought the General has always been the heartless iceberg that he is. I never knew he had a friend, dreaded the idea that he actually came from a family (that would make him appear too human - I'd prefer my version that he was born from a rock) and abhorred looking for alternative explanations. But your last comment was telling – nothing held his attention you say? In that case, I can start to understand why Vallanor holds such appeal for him."

"You hit the nail right on the head – Salar wants to overrun Anime City, and it's not something he would do out of personal reasons. Who and what gave him the idea? No, what can order Salar around?"

Misha's face relaxed and he appeared calm, as calm as the ocean before the terrible storm that broke ships like matchsticks and drowned sailors as the waves continued to thrash in torment. His eyes that contained depthless insanity and lunacy lit up at Legato's question and he stretched his lips into an entirely humourless smile.

"Lord Vallissa. Salar worships and adores the ground that our Lord treads. He will go to any lengths to please our Lord; and if you ask whether he demonstrated any signs of uncertainty when Lord Vallissa ordered that Elysian be destroyed and Anime City bought to the ground, the answer is 'no'."

"Who is Lord Vallissa?"

Misha's chuckle of bitterness, admiration, weariness and resignation would forever be imprinted upon Legato's mind. It was a sound that heralded an inevitable doom about to befall them and that there was no way to fight or escape it.

"Lord Vallissa is perfect. It is only a matter of time before our Lord will bring all governments under the standard of Vallanor and unite it into one world order. And with Lord Vallissa at the top, the Six Generals of Vallanor will each be granted a sphere of influence – Salar's the youngest of the generals, only recently initiated, but he's fighting to have his share of the world. He's battling it out with the old Five, showing that he's made of the right stuff to rule the world as Lord Vallissa's right hand."

"I still don't get it. How is any of this interesting, from Salar's perspective that is?"

"Vallanor's goal is to create the perfect world. Lord Vallissa's infinite wisdom has allowed for the creation of Vallanor and the answer to all of humanity's problems. If Lord Vallissa can come up with the solution, doubtless Salar finds that the depth of our Lord's mind to be undyingly enlightening indeed."

The sleek, silver mobile phone in Misha's pocket rang, and after a brusque and curt conversation, he turned to the three and sighed.

"Got work, got to go. Thank you for the most insightful conversation. If I ever see you again, I'll treat you to a round of beer. A tip for you: I don't know Salar past his façade, if that is his façade and not his true nature, but if you have to know him, find his protégé, Kurei. That kid's the closest to Salar…but then, he's got some strange notions of loyalty. He probably won't answer any questions detrimental to any aspect of Salar, his persona or his work, but it's worth a shot. Right then, take care."

Five minutes after Misha left, Dougy looked at Legato with amazing clarity in his eyes and remarked: "I've heard of Misha! He's a rock singer who's pretty big in Europe and Russia. I'll be he's trying to break into Anime City before he takes a crack at the other markets."


* * * *

3 pm, Luigi's Woodstove

All the other children had left, leaving only three more young boys rubbing bulging stomachs and smacking their lips. Kaéry shuffled closer to Xelan and leaned down to inspect his scratches and bruises. He gave a small frown.

"I swear Xe, this game is certainly too rough on you. And I also swear that people are deliberately picking on you."

"That's just your paranoia speaking Kay," Xelan pushed his friend's head away from his scabbing knees and stood up in the process. "Lets tip the waiters and go. My eyelids are starting to feel droopy."

Kaéry nodded and picked up his schoolbag, declining Shura's offer to help him carry it. They paid Luigi and stepped out onto the streets feeling the shackles of tiredness clasped to their ankles as they tried to drag themselves home.

Not Shura though – the older boy was fit and strong and hung a silly grin on his face whilst he watched the younger pair eye him with various degrees of envy and dislike. Compared to him, they were like wilted daisies dying under the harsh sun whereas he was a weed thriving on the death and decay of the others around him.

"Stuff it Shura. We know," Prince Kay growled, almost caught out by a crack in the pavement. Cracks in the streets of Anime City – the town was running to the dogs, he thought darkly. Xelan fared no better and he hung back, limping along like an old, battered donkey on his last days. Kaéry threw Shura his schoolbag and went down on one knee, inviting Xelan to hop onto his back.

Xelan dubiously studied Kay's exhausted features, "You sure?"

"No Xe, you forced me into this and I'm going against my will."

Xelan gave a small giggle and wrapped his arms around Kaéry's neck. Shura looked on, hiding the shakings of his head and keeping his mutterings to himself. Xelan was now bestowing one of his rare smiles on Kay, and the latter seemed to find his second wind as he hefted himself up (and his extra burden) on energetic feet and looked ready to conquer the world.

"What plans do you two have for tonight then?"

"Oh, we're going to seen an opera."

Shura grimaced, "You like watching fat ladies sing?"

"Yeah, the fat ladies are a pain, but they do have such wonderful voices."

"Wonderful voices indeed," Kaéry concurred, "although dad says that aunty Mistress also is a very good singer herself – and she's no fat lady by far."

"Why do all opera singers have to be so unattractive and so damn big?"

Xelan sighed in sympathy. "It's probably to do with the fact that they need big lungs for all the running passages. Either how, we can grab you an extra seat and you can just shut your eyes and listen to the music," Xelan paused, musing on an idea that just came to his head, "but then you'll miss out on all the wonderful costumes that they parade on stage."

"No thank you," Shura shuddered, slinging Kay's bag over his shoulder with his own, "I think I'll go home and warm down with some stretches, take a nice long bath and get my nose stuck into a book or something."

"A bath sounds very good."

Shura walked the pair back to Xelan's home, which was only a fifteen minute jog away from where he lived (ah, the days of Xelan stalking the streets inevitably made him victim number one). As they neared the white mansion, Kaéry suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and he deftly jumped into the shadow of a building at the corner of the street. He ducked his head around and his violet eyes glinted with awareness, studying a black Ford that he did not recognize pull up into Xelan's driveway A dainty figure elegantly alighted and tossed back a heavy mane of golden blonde hair followed by a man with sea green hair dressed in a casual denim jacket.

The arms around Kaéry's throat began to threaten to choke him as Xelan bit back a gasp.

"How dare she bring him home!" he whispered into Kay's ear. Although a mere whisper which could have been stolen away by the slightest lift in the breeze, Kaéry could hear the strained tensions snapping under the pressure. He felt the soft cheek press into the crook of his neck and he knew that Xelan was trying extremely hard not to scream away his sanity. The young boy on his back trembled ever so slightly as he fought for self control, subduing his anger by replacing his expression with a cold, cold mask of indifference.

Prince Kaéry's violet eyes darkened and although neither boy looked any different, Shura felt goosebumps quivering up his naked arms.

"Come on Xe – we've got to face him some time or another. Are you ready?"

He heard a pained sound, the sound of a dying animal alone and abandoned on the cruel fields of winter and Kay's heart broke into a million irreparable pieces. He fixed a stone cold gaze at the denim jacket and proceeded to walk towards Xelan's front door.

Filia Metallium, now reverted back to her maiden name Ul Copt, visibly brightened as the three children approached. She hastened to link her arms around her new boyfriend and hooked the stray strands of hair behind her ears. But when they were close enough for Filia to see the odd twig still sticking out of Xelan's thick purple (and worryingly tangled) hair, the slight tears and rips in his clothing and the dirt caked around his scabbing knees, she bought her hands to her mouth and rushed towards them.

We score first, both Kay and Xe thought.

"Oh my gosh Xelan. Have you been in a fight? Who did this to you?"

Xelan lifted his eyes with exaggerated tiredness and put on his most demure and vulnerable pout. "It's nothing mother," he lightly said, "I was just playing gang up brandy with all my school friends this afternoon."

Shura gave the man standing a pace or two behind Filia a polite smile and curiously saw another figure emerge from the vehicle. A shorter, blonde man who he had seen before. Was his name…Pika…something-Pika from Killua's studio. Shura suspected that he must be a cousin of Mrs. Filia.

"Brandy? That violent game? Oh Xe! You're not suited to rough sports like that," Filia complained, all the while examining her boy for further injuries.

"Hey Filia," the older man spoke genially and appeared by her side. He loomed over Kaéry and Xelan, "kids need to get nicked here and there sometimes to grow up properly. You shouldn't pamper him too much otherwise he won't turn out to be a real man."

"On the contrary," Kaéry spoke up, the smile that he reserved for mundane functions and meetings now fully switched on to a dazzling brilliance, "I believe that a man shouldn't be judged by the number of bruises he's capable of receiving without a flinch. According to your rather primitive and out-dated outlook on masculinity, that'd mean we should strive to become something of a gorilla in order to look like 'a real man'." Kaéry ignored Filia's boyfriend's growing look of open disapproval with familiar ease and superb finesse, continuing as unaffected as the smooth arc of a seagull soaring in the air with the wind beneath his wings. His eyes sparkled with malice and arrogance, "Take Uncle Xelloss for instance, Xelan's father. Now there's a man worthy of my greatest respect, but strangely, he doesn't need to resort to your dogmatic ideologies of what it really means to be a man."

Shura looked away lest they all saw him boggling, but Prince Kaéry dealing with adults was one of the most nerve-wracking entertainments he'd ever witnessed. His eloquence and articulation made you in contrast look like a first grader whose vocabulary range consisted only of fifty words. His cruel smirk, his catlike narrowed eyes, his demeanor of infinite confidence all suggested his undeniable superiority over your inferiority. Talk about goading people into irrationality – if that couldn't get to you, you had to be a bloody saint.

Mrs. Filia's boyfriend looked like he knew he was out-witted from the word go, from the moment Kaéry opened his mouth and gave him the look of a merciless executioner. Instead of coming back with his own retort, which Kaéry would only twist to his advantage, he let his arm embrace Filia's slender waist and pulled her closer to him in a gesture of ultimate triumph, saying If Xelloss was such a real man, then how come I am the one knocking his wife?

But the Prince was too controlled to let the barest hint of anger bait him. Instead, he gave such a derisive laughter that it hurt to listen to it and the man realized he made a mistake.

"Then and again," Kaéry continued in his off-handed manner, "I also respect Uncle Xelloss if not because he's above his petty insecurities to treat a dignified woman as a piece of meat or a trophy in order to prove his worth."

After the deliverance of that devastating sally and further scathing laughter, no man with an iota of pride could hold back his rage. Had Filia not been there, Kaéry would easily have gone home that evening with a black eye and bruises along his throat, though the smile would be hard to wipe off his face. But Mrs. Filia stepped forth and with a great look of unholy anger reprimanded Kaéry: "This is not your place to speak!"

Kaéry nodded, the look of repentance immediate but false. Deliberately so, and it didn't help that his grin turned all the more wretched and diabolical. "Of course Aunty Filia. I know exactly how Mr. Valgarv is feeling right now. He's an actor, but his act of civil restraint is unconvincing to say the least, a dog's breakfast to be honest. Want me to psychoanalyze him?"

"That's enough from you Kaéry."

Kay turned, with Xelan still on his back and the younger boy hopped off at presence of the newcome. A man wearing Xelan's long purple hair walked up the driveway with a morbid expression on his face.

"Uncle Mu!" Xelan ran to the tall man and held out his arms to be picked up. Mu shook his head and patted Xe on the head.

"You're getting too old for that one now dear nephew; too old and too intelligent to be throwing these sorts of immature tantrums with your friend."

"Why Mr. Mu, how is a friendly conversation on the male image immature in any way, shape or form?"

"You know yourself Kaéry," Mu said without too much love and narrowed his eyes at him, "I could sense your hostilities from a mile away."

Kaéry's smile didn't waver, "Allow me to reassure you sir; that was only the tip of the iceberg."

"For which I'm utterly thankful. Now Kay, this is a private family matter and I suggest you take Shura and go home."

Kaéry didn't miss a beat. "If Mr. Valgarv to Aunty Filia is 'family', then I to Xelan are blood brothers."

Mu sighed and gritted his teeth. "Look Kaéry, you're not invited to this gathering. Please, go home."

"And leave my Xe defenseless to you wolves while you emotionally tear him apart? Please Mr. Mu, I have an IQ of over two fifty and am therefore not stupid. Come Xe," he pulled his friend back to his side, constantly backing down the driveway, "they have no right to force to you go through anything, accept anyone, give anyone a chance. You've made up your own mind and I tell you all now: he will not be persuaded otherwise from whatever emotional blackmail you have all planned in your self-satisfied little heads."

"No Kay, you've got this all wrong," Kurapika slowly, cautiously stepped forward toward the retreating pair. "We're not here to change your mind or Xe's. Aunty Filia just hopes that Xe-chan here can get to know Mr. Valgarv a little better so he can make a more informed judgement."

"Kurapika, your naïve intentions have been noted, but I regret to inform you that you've been misled. Whether Mr. Valgarv be god himself, Xelan doesn't have to know him and he can damn well form ignorant opinions as he chooses."

"Hey kid! Go wash your mouth with some soap – who taught you those nasty manners?" Valgarv interjected, trying to take an active part in the situation. Today, he found out the true depths of horror and menace in the child everyone dubbed Prince Kaéry. For one instant, when the small black haired child sneered at him and seared his soul with blazing violet fire, he was a vicious monster of unbridled cruelty who was capable of killing him with impunity and would most likely laugh as he did it. Valgarv heard that Lola herself was no pretty or subdued character, having grown up in Northside before she married. It seemed that her son had inherited the gift to deal death and destruction without a molecule of hesitation.

"Gotcha!" Mu exulted, catching Kaéry in a bear hug from behind and lifted the boy clear off his feet. Kay kicked and struggled, screaming with all hell's fury that Kurapika had to cover his ears as the banshees from the deep abyss responded to his piercing cry of help.

Filia dashed forward to grab Xelan, but her boy had placed the front gate between them. "Xelan! Come to your mother this instant!"

"Come scoglio immoto resta contra i venti, e la tempesta."

Kaéry stopped struggling and smiled at his friend on hearing those words. He wanted to take Xelan's soft hands in his own and give them a reassuring squeeze.

"E potrà la morte sola far che cangi affetto il cor," he whispered back. They shared a look of understanding behind a bond so strong and immovable that the gales of a millennium could not erode.

Xelan turned to his mother, with her new boyfriend of sixth months Valgarv and his dead expression never changed. "In qual fiero contrasto, in qual disordine di pensieri, e di affetti io mi ritrovo! Vorrei dir, e cor non ho; Balbettando il labbro va. Fuor la voce uscir non può, ma mi resta mezza quà. Che farete, che farò."

"Xe baby, come to mama, please, mama doesn't understand what you're saying." Filia pleaded, hoping her nephew Kurapika could add in an extra word on her behalf.

"Now Shura!"

Yomi's son launched a swift and savage kick to Mu's shins. The latter's face screwed up in pain and he instantly let go of Kaéry, who landed gracefully and silently on his feet like a cat. As Mu hopped, clutching at his leg in pain, Shura tripped Valgarv over from giving chase and leaped over the front gate.

"Rispettate, anime ingrate, questo esempio di constanza, e una barbara speranza non vi renda audaci ancor." Xe said icily, giving his mother one last look before he took off as fast as he could with Kaéry down the street.

Beside them, Shura laughed like a lunatic.

"Geesus Kay – hanging around you is so much fun sometimes. You have seriously no respect for adults whatsoever."

"What is there to respect? I thought better of Mu, but I guess Aunty Filia managed to exercise her magic over him and brainwash him into seeing things her way."

Shura turned to Xe who was currently having no trouble keeping up with their pace nor did he show any sign of pain for the fresh blood seeping out of his wounds. "So Xelan, I take it that you don't want Valgarv to be your stepfather."

"There will be no stepfather," Xelan said with his characteristic calm, flawlessly masking any feelings of hate and malevolence he might have harboured.

Shura led them down an alleyway, a short cut to his house, "What can us kids do anyway? Adults lead their messy and screwed up lives and expect us to dance to their tunes. Now we're running away. We can't run forever."

"Today was only the tip of the iceberg," Kaéry said, his face hard and uncompromising, his voice riddled with sharp determination and cold anger "and I promise greater and more glorious things to come."

Shura nodded and saved his breath. Never mess with Prince Kaéry was a message that everyone should treat with the seriousness of a time bomb they found themselves trapped in the same room with. Roll out the cannons – bring forth the men and arm them; Prince Kaéry and Xelan were on the war path and nothing short of Salar could possibly hope to defeat them.


Author's notes

Yes! Inspiration struck me with the entrance of Misha! If you've read Untitled, the lunatic general is back, except now he's been demoted into a Marshall, under Salar as well. And I was finally able to properly introduce Vallanor into the story, at last!

On the other hand…I've just come to realize that Vallanor looks a LOT like Valinor from Lord of the Rings. Dear Mr. Tolkien, let me say to you now that I totally and utterly respect you and that I have come up with 'Vallanor' for entirely different reasons. As you can see, Vallanor is named after Lord Vallissa, and I have placed an emphasis on the prefix 'Val'. The spheres of influence that Lord Vallissa's five Generals will control will be named after the Generals themselves, but once again, the prefix 'Val' will be attached. I don't even know if I'll go that far in this story, but let me just assure any jittery readers out there that's how I stumbled across the word "Vallanor" – truth be told, I never delved into the history behind Middle Earth and it was only because I crossed a LOTR webpage today with a glossary that I found the word Valinor. Doo Hickey.

I love Kay and Xe – I'd have them for brothers any day, sweet little buggers. The two broke off into Italian towards the end there. Will I provide the translations? No – not at this point, or perhaps never. Either how, they're from Mozart's opera Cosi fan tutti, the words and translation kindly supplied by www.aria-database.com – but interpret the words as you will. If enough people complain, then my conscience might persuade me to put up the translation ;D.

Rusco: hehe - hope you enjoyed the opening of this chapter then - watch out for my new fic The Definition of our Existence as well - that one strongly features Hisoka and Illumi together =D

Yukitsu: Ooh – you mean that! Hehe, my bad, it's just that Kay and Salar are quite alike that it doesn't seem unreasonable to forget that his dad's actually Karasu. But unfortunately, no, this isn't a daytime soapie filled with melodramatic plot elements - *gasp* you had an affair with my brother! – sort of thing. It's understandable if you get confused sometimes; you might not know who Salar is referring to when he says 'brother' because he addresses both Karasu and Lola as his brother (both younger of course). He made a blood pact with Lola to be brothers (I know, sounds crazy – it's all in the history) so that should have struck out any possibilities of that sort of relationship you're thinking of. However, they never really manage to persuade the general public about what sort of relationship they have, nor does Salar feel the need to explain. You share Karasu's apprehension – if Salar is his twin brother, that means he's got the same DNA, meaning a DNA test will be inconclusive… and his wife would be offended if he questioned her.

As to Dougy – well, the way I see it, he's actually been with Illumi for little over a month now and they've been together a lot. Illumi's a workaholic, and much of his work has been poured onto Dougy. You might notice my references to Illumi teaching Dougy social etiquette again, getting him set up with PRs, fixing his hair – they share a lot of time together, so even though it's only been a month, they have grown quite close. And besides, Dougy sees this partnership as a long term relationship, definitely not a one off fling, so he's taking initiative and actively working at getting to know Illumi better and become his friend.

"Please….don't rape me" --> wasn't meant to be teasing. The situation was actually quite frightening for him and he had no idea what to expect, except for that ambiguous position and hold that Illumi had over him. Hope that clears things up a bit more =D

Thanks for the reviews – don't hesitate to drop me a note! Heck – drop me a note, any small one, just to let me know that you're reading this!

Bah - no classical music nutcases around here - the answer to last chapter's question - the movement from Brahm's symphony was actually that highly emotional and moving background music used in Slayers Try! Go on - listen and compare!