Checker Face tries flattery on them of all things, not even saying anything they didn't already know. Yes, of course they're the Strongest Mist of their generation.

Who else to rise to the competition when Viper made the finest gruesome work of all who tried, when they scarred into their mind where they'll always stand as long as Viper lives?

They think they let some of them live anyway—surely? They're not fond of wasting their time, always make sure to use the amount of power that'll kill them right away, but fear of them must be spread by others than themself. It has proven a beneficial investment in the long run, warning the mind-numbingly boring ones not to come knocking at their door as if able to scratch their interest awake, let alone entertain them.

It always puts them in a sour mood, and that never ends well for them, though they're never nowhere near enough to let Viper vent their feelings for their affront.

Yes, they must have let some of them live.

Checker Face talks about others, calls them one of the Strongest, and Viper merely tilts their head as they laugh in their mind. Viper is the Strongest Mist and the Strongest, but they'll allow it. Six others supposedly at their level, Viper could guess whom they were, investigated them already, but their interest stirs, and it's noteworthy.

They purse their lips, more and more of their flames slipping in the air, bearing down on Checker Face. Nothing like a Mist to get under another Mist's skin, to itch them to tear the other apart, tear them open, half preventive distaste for what could become a threat, half disillusioned craving to meet any sort of challenge that'll distract them.

Viper's flames bear down on Checker Face but find no way in. Checker Face seems unfazed, feels too uncaring to even be bored by Viper's attempt, the impertinent, the fool, who do they think Viper is?

How amusing. It's been a long time since Viper hasn't been the biggest threat in a room.

Checker Face's a Mist, but more than a Mist, and for a split second Viper's flames and psychic power burst from them fully. The room blazes in indigo fire, and it spreads past the walls over multiple blocks, grazing minds and destroying them in the same instant, mangling others while the lucky ones pass out before sustaining irreparable damages.

Checker Face emerges from the flames not a hair out of place nor a wrinkle on their clothes, and still Viper finds no way in through their defenses.

"Impressive," they say, and Viper's laugh almost spills out from their mouth out loud.

Checker Face is more than a Mist, and if Viper were to tear them open then apart just so, they could entertain them forever—or as close as forever can last faced to Viper.

"What do you want from me?"

"Go to the meeting, play nice with the others. Then I'll tell you all more about what I expect from you."

Viper's bored already with that I Prescelti Sette business. There's no one like them, not even other Mist, they would know. Still they accept the map of the meeting place, their flames biding their time under their skin, their interest awake enough some expectations slipped in.

"Only because this wasn't a complete waste of my time," they say. "I loathe being indebted."

The Chosen Seven not only meet their expectations, but exceed them. Of course Viper made sure to have as reasonable expectations as they could guess from only knowing them from afar, but still, it's noteworthy.

Exciting even.

Viper breaks into their mind, and before they get them to obediently sit until they're done, the Sun manages a flame bullet straight for their head, the Storm's hand burning with their flames reaching for their neck, and they both almost hit their real body. Which has a lot to do with the Rain, slowing down the invasion of her mind long enough to slow down their defenses.

The Lightning and Cloud seem to have become mafia only recently, if mafia at all, their use of their flames more instinctive than anything. Yet the Lightning's barrier around his mind holds on for unexpected seconds, and Viper's flames slam against absurdly thick and dense Cloud flames, almost bouncing back out of the Cloud's mind entirely.

The Sky though. Her walls don't give in, be it her flames or some other power they don't know about. They sit face to face, and she looks straight back at them, looking serene, but she feels tensed and strained.

Viper doesn't like it. It doesn't make their flames jumpy with giddiness, doesn't make them want to grin expectantly. These people might truly be their equal, or at least will prove a challenge to them, Viper will wait and see.

They won't wait for the Sky.

She feels wrong, and Viper can't let that happen.

"What it is you're trying so hard to hide?"

"You're trying to break into my mind," she says, and Viper doesn't like her tone, carefully making sure not to be condescending as she explains something they should apparently have known all along. "Everyone has things to hide, but even if I didn't, it's only natural that I'm trying to stop you."

Her words do evoke knowledge Viper knew once, but it's vague enough they can't bother recalling it to them. Everywhere Viper is and whoever they are with, their minds always lay themselves bare in front of them to the last detail, whether they want it or not.

The nerve of that woman to blame it on them.

"Both you and me know this isn't what this is." Viper stops playing around, bored with her already. She winces, flinching back, looking away, but they're not in a movie where it'll actually help her.

"Viper," she grits through her teeth, holding her head between strained hands. "Please. You're hurting us."

Viper scoffs, rolling their eyes hard. They're hurting her, because she's uselessly resisting. The others are fine, out of it as they are, awake but passed out as long as Viper's in their head.

Viper's not even—what was that she tried to pull? The privacy card? What a joke.

It should make them want to mock her more, but it makes them angry, turns their flames brusque, and she whimpers.

Viper only wants an overview of their mind, of who they are at their innermost core, as it's the first thing they have always known about people. They'll be left safe and sound, Viper only disfigures when they want to.

But what if they were breaking into their privacy? What right has a room without a door to demand privacy rights?

No, Viper decidedly doesn't like her, and it has nothing to do with how she's standing up against them, how she is able to stand up against them. If anything Viper wishes more of that in people they come across, but not from her.

"How curious that you know my name."

The Sky falters, a flash of uncertainty flicking across her eyes. She tries to grasp onto control again, but she never has had it, and it feels good to watch the realization sink in, appease them a little.

That woman feels wrong, and Viper always has their curiosity satisfied, their thirst of knowledge quenched.

They press harder against her walls, feel them crack, and already delight in how they're about to shatter them.

They pull away.

The Sky sags over the table, awareness jolting the others back to reality as they all breathe in deeply. A thought from Viper and they forget the last minute, breathing out casually, nonchalantly settling in their seat, wolves pretending to be wolves in sheep's clothing.

Now, now, Viper almost cut short their fun, and that won't do. And fun this is, unexpectedly so, delightfully so, and it's only the meeting, who knows what other surprises the others have for them.

The Sky is unpleasant, but no less entertaining all the same, and anything decreasing their boredom is worth breaking apart with care, worth to enjoy until it turns dull on its own.

Viper will just have to remember how to do that before they break them without meaning to.

"Cookies, anyone?" the Sky stands, smiling down at them. She catches their eye, and Viper gives them a smile only she can see, speaks words for her ears only to hear.

"You're free to try," they oblige graciously, and her smile falters, a guarded look taking over the kindness in her eyes for a telltale split second. "Do try your best though. I am not kind to the people who owe me."

There's a blissful moment where everything feels right instead of being horribly wrong.

For the first time in their life Viper knows where they end and where their flames begin, knows which thoughts are theirs because only their thoughts are there for them to hear. They're not alone on top of the mountain, the others close by even, some only a couple of steps away, and yet they don't blend in with them, doesn't need to pull their most inner selves minutely apart, so they'd know where their self ends and where theirs begin.

It's blissful, truly. It's only for a moment.

In the next Viper screams, the way they used to when the world overwhelmed them before they taught themself how to make it behave. Their body is different, is wrong, and they couldn't care less.

Their flames are gone, the amount left that isn't sucked away nothing, insignificant, a beggar's treasure. Their flames keep being sucked away, and that—

Viper screams, and it's anger, fury, raging and righteous outrage, the way they used to when the world overwhelmed them before they taught themself how to make it behave. Shut up, shut up! Leave me alone, or I'll wipe you out.

Their flames were bigger than themself once upon a time that means nothing anymore, that didn't mean anything for long; stronger than their mind could bend them to their will, but Viper taught them how to listen, broke them down and carved obedience into their core before building them up again. I am so much stronger than you. Obey me before I make you.

How dares Checker Face touch them? How dares she?

Viper snaps their mouth shut, their scream abruptly cutting off, but the silence that follows is as deafening as their scream was. They stand, looking up, the indigo pacifier around their neck shining, and they couldn't care less about the pain coursing through their body.

Their flames blaze across the mountain top, fierce trails of wrath caving the floor and separating the others from each other's.

Arcobaleno, Luce's mind screams in agony. Unbreakable Curse. Inevitable death.

Viper's flames circle her closer, burn hotter, and they could cave the floor under her feet entirely, could watch her fall, but they have much worse in store for her. Their flames lick at her cape and it ignites whole, creeps up her legs to her knees, turning her robe to ash, eats at her skin, but they have much slower in store for her.

Luce falls on her knees, then curls on herself, her arms wrapped around her belly. Her Sky flames burn strong too, as strong as they can, all of it inwards, all of it surrounding her belly. Her body shakes, rising up and down to the rhythm of her heavy, quick breathing, tears dripping down her cheeks.

There're no walls up to defend her, and she feels of fear only, fear, fear, terror, but not of them.

Not yet.

"You let me."

Viper's flames still, but don't back down. Luce's voice didn't shake, and when she raises her tearful eyes to meet theirs, her gaze is steel like, doesn't waver. It dares them to deny it, but Viper's not that petty, isn't dishonest, no matter what the mafia wants so bad to make Mist out to be.

Viper did let them. You'll free to try, they had said. Do try your best though, they had even added, not even contemplating the idea she could succeed.

They had let Checker Face too, hadn't they? Only because this wasn't a complete waste of my time, they had said, biding their time, no doubt in their mind they could stop whatever they'd try to pull until they could strike in turn.

Viper's flames flicker out. A smile pulls at their lips, and they all tense further, Luce's flames burning even stronger.

Ah, this is what you'd call a lost, isn't it? Viper played, and lost, and it's not anyone else's fault they forgot games always come with the risk of losing. And how goes that saying again? Who plays with fire gets burned?

Viper never got burned again, not since they made their world behave to the last flutter of leaf, and that power has tasted like ash in their mouth ever since, bitterness down their throat, and the world continuously failed to wash it away.

Viper had been the fire that burned, no matter how inflammable they made themself to be, no matter with how many people they tried to get burned by, ever since they looked up to a world they could make everything and anything of and everything in between, but none of that meant anything to them anymore.

Viper laughs, a full belly laugh, closes their eyes and throws their head back, and laughs. None of this is fun, but oh, is it entertaining.

This past year had been entertaining too, in the fun way, the sound of Viper's laugh no stranger to the others' ears, nor is their annoyance, their anger, their playfulness, not even their skills, which they actually had the opportunity to stretch and even tire at times.

Their skills aren't even stranger against them, and here they are anyway, standing on top of that mountain alongside them.

At times, the best of times, few and in between but there, the boredom had even loosened up a little; that mind-numbingly boredom, that maddening apathy, killer and killing, but Viper knows, it'll always be killer first.

Burn it all to the ground, they hadn't heard the voice say as often, hadn't felt that constant itch barely kept under their skin as strongly. The fire will go out, but it'll keep you alive however long it burns, the way nothing else manages to.

Ah, fair enough. Viper loathes being indebted.

"Until your child is born," they say, and their pacifier stops shining, their mind finally settling down.

Luce's features twist into resigned grief, and myriad other feelings Viper doesn't bother to understand. It feels good to see, still isn't nowhere near enough, but it'll have to do. No, it will do.

Viper has no intentions to meet her again after her child is born. They won't, but Luce doesn't know they won't, will never know they won't as she waits for them to come.

She'll be the first of them to die, her mind tells them, will die soon too, leaving them to suffer the Curse she shackled them with, and Viper can and will make sure her remaining time is as agonizing as they can make it.

Now it's fair, now they're even.

Anything decreasing their boredom is worth breaking apart with care, worth to enjoy until it turns dull on its own, it's the one sacred truth of their life. And how delightfully alive Viper feels now, with a Curse around their neck, their mind stuck in that deformed body; with an otherworldly being to hunt down and teach them how to kneel and beg forgiveness, a God to deny and slay.

Rage burns hot in their guts, killing intent sits heavy on their tongue, and it's all feel so very sweet, like the most devoted lover.

How Viper missed it all. They did, truly, this is a glorious moment they wouldn't give up for the world, but what of it?

You're free to try, they had said, along with, only because this wasn't a complete waste of my time, true enough.

But so they spoke the words, I loathe being indebted.

But so they spoke, I am not kind to people who owe me.

Viper didn't make the mistake not to warn them.

Mammon walks inside the Varia Boss' office, unannounced and uninvited. A step in and they know all there is to know about the boy, his very essence so heavy in the air, so tangible, Mammon could almost touch it.

Xanxus di Vongola, but by name only, and there his wrath stems from.

A boy from the squatters, gifted with Dying Will Flames, but only a boy from the squatters still, and there the insecurities he's so desperate to burn into nonexistence stem from.

Quite the two simple truths for a boy with a mind so fascinating, the likes Mammon has rarely seen.

"You will hire me." They stop in the middle of the room, so neither of them have to strain their neck to look into each other's eyes. "That is, only if the pay is as rumored."

"What was that, trash?" Xanxus doesn't ask who they are, doesn't pretend he needs to, but his lips twitch for it, just to see how annoyed it'd make them. Mammon doesn't repeat themself, and Xanxus concedes with a quiet snarl. "They just let you walk in here like you own the place," he states distastefully, leaning back against his chair. "Looks like I should fire all these useless scums first."

Xanxus never strays his eyes away from them, laid back in his throne like chair, but ready to meet them blow for blow at a moment notice should they try anything. Mammon doesn't let themself smile. Of course they have standards for people they allow to stand above them, even if in name only.

"So?" Xanxus asks, and it irks him to do it.

Mammon doesn't explain themself further. They look at him, seeing right through him, and it's distracting. It calls to them, tempts them, and Mammon's boredom has been stretched dangerously taut over the past decades.

Unraveling the likes of Xanxus' mind has always been their most successful investment of their time. People are all alike in their differences if you look into them as many times as they did, but the likes of Xanxus, the ones who feel so strongly about themselves, who are so self destructively unyielding about whom they decide they will be no matter what, always break down the most entertainingly.

"So?" Mammon echoes him, because their boredom has been stretched dangerously taut over the past decades, and they need to leave the room before it snaps right there and then.

Xanxus laughs. He crosses his arms on his chest, rests his foot on top of his thigh, and the smile on his lips drips with mockery. "The Mist Arcobaleno," he says in a grandiose manner, biting like he could possibly know what the title means to them. "I'll let you use me if you let me use you without bitching about it."

Mammon can't help but smile this time, even hears themself laugh. That boy would spit at God's face just to prove them he can, and how all that ambition has yet to consume him they don't know, but they could use some of that. "We have a deal."

"Trash," Xanxus calls out as they reach the door. "What use a trash like you can have of me?"

Mammon considers a moment, but they can share that much. "Your wrath speaks to my indifference." They look back at him and see through him, a boy who wants the world in the only way that'll never happen, the only way he can never make it happen no matter how hard he struggles, but struggling he will to the day he dies. "And as you want to slay a king, I will slay a God."

Whether Xanxus will anchor them or Mammon will take them both over the edge, well—

Mammon only cares to be alive again.

A/N: It hurt to write Luce like that, but I did love her dynamic with Viper. And writing Dark!Viper was also really super fun!

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Any and all review are appreciated.

Thank you for reading!

- w.h