Chapter 1
Four ranged lookouts and five ground artillery stationed at the target zone. Each guard was stationed at an individual turret, heavy and menacing with massive barrels to accommodate large gauged missiles. Even from a far distance, the trained eye could tell that the hired thugs were no more screened based off their skill than their external ability to intimidate, each one boasting a large physique with a hardly distinguishable light behind the eyes that barely betrayed any sense of cerebral activity going on behind them. Nevertheless, what mattered was how tough they looked and whether they could pull a trigger. No other guards were present or expected to show up other than the personal guard that would accompany the target based on the stolen security dossier. A security camera and identification system were still operational at the front entrance to the private grounds as well as the internal facility housing the target's private exotic animal enclosure. Their flashing warning lights still could be seen beaming with a red bravado, alerting anyone within a large radius of the enclosure that they are in no way welcome. If the lights and multitude of cameras didn't convey the message enough, signs with large, cartoonish skulls and letters spelling out 'WARNING' were tacked around the exterior walls. A large paragraph followed, explicitly dictating the many ways an intruder would be annihilated if they so dared get any closer to the private property.
Perched in a tree a few hundred feet from the enclosure, Illumi sighed to himself. The lack of awareness in terms of one's need for legitimate personal security and an inability to assess what adequate and inadequate security was always seemed to be present in the wealthiest and most bombastic of his targets. It seemed to him, from the amount of hits he'd successfully finished, that when it came to the world of money and resources, it didn't always necessitate that the most powerful or successful had to be the brightest amongst the group. And in most cases, they rarely were. Appearances and status seemed to be more than enough to satiate their taste or keep their station in the mental hierarchy of such company. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter. It made easy work.
A small vibration near Illumi's temple brought him out of thought. Looking down at his phone, he saw that it was 4:58 in the evening, right on time for the target to make his appearance at the enclosure. Focusing on the vibration, Illumi closed his eyes. A velvet darkness overtook his vision and the previous sounds of rustling leaves and wind slowly began to muffle like he were hearing them from underwater. His senses continued their decline until, suddenly, the sound of assorted beeps and radar scans filled his ears. The sensation of a light breeze crossed his cheek accompanied by the rattling of a particularly loud air conditioning unit and the acrid smell of black coffee burned his nose.
Illumi opened his eyes.
Rather than finding himself looking out through the shroud of leaves in the canopy he had stashed away in, Illumi was now sat in one of the guard posts monitoring the entrance gate to the private grounds through the eyes of the guard that was stationed there. The guard, Gerry Bolton according to his name tag, wasn't particularly young or lithe and seemed to have a bad knee from what Illumi could feel. Guessing from his general lazy demeanor and the ease at which Illumi was able to snag him with a pin, Bolton was grandfathered into the establishment, already well past his duty as a combatant and living a cushy life as a chair guard.
Illumi couldn't help but scrunch his brow in annoyance. Bolton's vision wasn't as sharp as Illumi's own, causing him to blink rapidly to try and clear the persistent fog, and every time Illumi went to move, Bolton's joints creaked and clicked with the sluggish quality found only in the aging or inactive bodies Illumi occupied. Illumi rolled his neck and took a deep breath. This was only temporary. He didn't need him for long.
Looking out from the post's window, Illumi could see a flashy car, well waxed, with a parade of guards on motorcycles in the distance. The sandy dust cloud the vehicles made cleared as they got closer, allowing Illumi to get a clearer look at the incoming company. On each motorcycle was sat a large, blubbery guard dressed in fatigues with a large turret attached to the handlebars in an inconvenient fashion. Wreaths of bullets ringed around the bikes themselves and their faint, metallic clinking could be heard just barely over the sound the motorcycles' fat tires crunching and rolling over rocks and gravel as they approached. Each had a pair of glossy black sunglasses and what seemed to be a solid gold scimitar sheathed or brandished at the side, finishing off the general preposterous display of menace with a flourish.
Through Bolton, Illumi turned towards the security screen on the left wall. Like everything else, the security measures found in the post were more so for expensive show than anything else. Marble outfitted the floors, walls, and ceiling and sleek buttons adorned the command desk in candied colors. A whole panel was dedicated specifically for spotlights and several rows of guns and hand grenades, of all things, were hung up on hooks adjacent to the screen, each one coated in a tacky gold. A fine layer of dust covered each weapon.
Illumi peered back up at the security screen as the caravan pulled forward. A guard with a silvery flat top and leathery skin pulled up towards the camera and removed his chunky sunglasses. Two squinted and equally grey and silvery eyes peered back.
"Taking the boss and Sousa in," the guard muttered, his deep voice creeping around the large cigar hanging on his lips. "He wants to show him the new cats."
As he finished, the guard bent down, letting one of his eyes take up the full screen. Illumi looked over at the desk and pressed a button with the words 'identification scan' engraved in it. A series of lasers shot over the guard's eye, scanning in lines up and down and from side to side until the screen was prompted with a delightful ding and a profile with information popped up, shrinking the camera feed. A relatively unflattering photo of the guard popped up alongside a series of supposedly important facts pertaining to his identity. Creed Willard, lieutenant general of security. Male. Five feet ten inches. 215 pounds. Born July seventh. Forty one years of age. An alert referencing his need for a cap at the private barracks' bar. A cancer. Interesting.
Illumi presses a green button next to the 'identification scan' button with a large smiley face on it and the gate pops open. A sound reminiscent of wind chimes blares over the speakers as a sultry woman's voice croons, "Access granted." Illumi watches each guard as they pass through the gate followed by the car and the security at the rear.
After the last guard passes through and disappears into the distance, Illumi turns again to the screen and filters through the security cameras until he finds the one stationed at the enclosure entrance. The target's car pulls up right as Illumi adjusts the feed and shows a portly man in a white and gold suit stumble out of the back seat. His large, white cowboy hat made from some sort of reptilian creature tips off his head as he knocks it on the roof of the car on his way out, revealing wispy trails of butter yellow hair plastered to the bald spot of his tanned head. A meaty yet tiny ham of a fist hits the ground to brace the man, making a cloud of dust puff up around him as a volley of guards come to uselessly help him up. A guard listlessly rubbing a smudge on the paint job of his bike snaps to attention as he realizes what has happened and dives for the hat rolling by, missing it completely. The boss swats and indistinctly insults the guards around him for not being able to prevent him from falling and snatches the hat away from Creed who was able to catch the hat before it made its way into the underbrush.
The portly man, or boss, was Illumi's target: Doug Pillburn. A trading empire mogul stationed in Jappon with a nasty reputation of cornering competition and acquiring expensive and rare commodities. He has a temper that makes him difficult to work with, yet the way he's handled his business necessitates that people put up with him for the sake of their own monetary gain. Almost every person he has surrounded himself with are either paid off or are promised some kind of payment in return for their company. He looked and acted every bit the part.
Shortly after Doug's tumble, a slender man in a velvet purple suit rose out of the other side of the car. If he was wearing a shirt underneath the jacket, one couldn't tell since the opening of his collar revealed only his umber skin and dark curls of chest hair. A large snake of a gold chain rest around his willowy neck and a charm the size of a child's fist dangled against his sternum, green emeralds shining in the sockets of its cat skull design. As he made his way around the car, he patted at his black, curly hair, long fingers encrusted with an assortment of gold and jewels. His nails caught the red rays of the setting sun, glinting a metallic copper.
Illumi identified the man as Sousa de Leone, an accomplished manipulator that was hired for his expertise in capturing and training rare and exotic animals. If it wasn't obvious from the attire, the aura he gave off definitely did. While not originally a part of the initial contract, Sousa became a lucrative bonus hit when Illumi informed the contractor about his planned attendance. The contractor all but clapped with joy at the chance to end two in one. Apparently, Sousa himself was a big cornerstone in the operations of Doug's trade empire, specifically in furs and black market dealings regarding illegal trades of protected wild life and other unsavory commerce. According to the contractor, Sousa had just as much of a nasty reputation as Doug, albeit different and angled more towards the sleazy.
As he finished watching Sousa and Doug make their way into the enclosure, Illumi turned his attention back to the security systems. There was a large metal control panel on one of the desk tops encircling the Bolton's chair with a card swipe and double key access requirement. Inserting the guard's identification card into the slot, Illumi pulled the guard's key and an extra key he snagged from a previous guard during his set up and placed them into the key holes. After turning, the screen on the panel was prompted with the option to override the system and turn all functions offline. Illumi calmly pressed 'yes' and disengaged from Bolton's body, leaving behind an empty husk.
Bolton's vision snapped away from him, a strangely colorful negative being left in its wake as Illumi's vision returned to that velvety black. The sounds of the room soon became replaced with the familiar whisper of leaves and wind. What used to be an adjustment period of a few seconds was now shortened to a mere millisecond due to years of practice, the nausea that such a task usually invoked now completely replaced with a cold and empty demeanor found only in someone so used to the feeling that they no longer register its presence.
With his awareness placed back in his own body, Illumi's eyes snapped open. Looking towards the enclosure, Illumi began his assessment. It seemed Creed had realized that the security had gone offline and was alerting the others. While the majority of the guard were less than worried, Creed seemed to have a more cautious energy to him. It didn't matter considering he and his guard were now cornered and prepped for a silent take down. During the time it took Illumi to wait and shut off the security from the entry post, he had sent ten needlemen guards he had poised near his hiding spot in the trees to the enclosure with a forged notice of a maintenance check. With four now checking the artillery towers and the other six on the ground placed in and around the remaining ground guards, it would take a matter of seconds.
Illumi started his decline from the tree, his long hair slinking behind him like a line of ink, as the needlemen attacked. Each one stationed at the towers simultaneously cut the throats of the guards at the turrets, making sure to cut deep enough to damage the wind pipes. The ones on the ground followed suit, leaving only Creed and the young guard who was previously distracted out in the open and bewildered. Illumi had closed the distance between himself and Creed before he could reach into his pocket for his own personal alarm walkie.
"Shi- eugh," Creed sputtered as Illumi's feet collided into the center of his chest, precisely placed to knock the air out of his lungs and snap his sternum. Illumi landed, crouched like a cat over Creed as he hit the ground, and kept the pressure of his feet on his chest until Creed's eyes rolled into the back of his head and his thick hands released their grip on Illumi's ankles.
Illumi's head snapped up as he heard the fumbling of the guard left over, a calm, empty expression on his face. He could tell the guard was young, weasel-y and unsure of himself and lacking the proper training for someone to be an interior body guard. The whites of his eyes stood out against the darks of his iris, his pupils flared wide and his dusty blonde hair ruffled in a disarray against his forehead. Whoever had stationed him and provided him his training utterly failed him. Illumi shot out a needle before the guard could scramble any further, embedding it into the center of his forehead and killing him instantly.
Illumi calmly stood up, still with his feet pressed into Creed's chest. A nasty crunch came from his destroyed chest as Illumi walked off of him. The needlemen all stood at attention while Illumi made his way through them towards the enclosure, their expressions slackening and their jaws starting to hang open now that there was no need for them to look the part of real guards. Illumi made a brisk snap and suddenly every needleman collapsed, folding in on themselves like paper cutouts. As they did so, the pins lodged into the back of their heads launched out and returned to Illumi where he skillfully caught each between his fingers.
Storing the pins back into his belt, Illumi peered up at the walls of the enclosure. The entirety of the structure seemed to be made of thick panes of glass, giving the building a look of some kind of greenhouse paired with the architectural design of a palace. What could have been a potential entry problem due to the transparency of the structure ended up not being one at all. Doug or whoever he had hired to design the palace had planted an abundance of trees around the interior of the palace and hung curtains of exotic flowers and vines around the walls, obscuring any potential viewpoints that would have otherwise been there.
Quickly finding a series of vented windows near the top of the enclosure, Illumi climbed up the side of the glass, expertly placing a series of needles into the panes to give himself footing while also not breaking their surface. Once at the window, Illumi slipped inside, landing on a wrought iron walkway encircling the main room.
Illumi could hear running water, its burbling echoing against the glass and around through a litany of different types of trees. Some trees had sharp, needle-like fronds while others had large, glossy fans of leaves that looked almost like plastic, dew drops from the suffocating humidity collected on their surfaces and dripped from their ends. Fruits and countless colorful flowers burst from each corner of every shrub, attracting small butterflies and birds that darted and glistened like thrown shards of stained glass. A sickly sweet scent of nectar filled the room, pluming in large golden dust clouds around flowers big enough for a human to sit in, weeping with a ruby red sap. Despite himself, Illumi could tell that the plants were taken very well care of.
Placed sporadically, however, were large cages and tanks housing different unique and, undeniably rare, creatures. One tank held a number of glistening silver fish with mean yellow eyes. Every now and then, one would emit an electric pulse before rocketing around the tank like a rogue bullet. Small turtles with shells the shapes of hearts rest on garden rocks and a large boar like creature with a heavy snout grumbled to itself in a far corner, a ring of wiry red fur decorated the length of its spine. The other animals not seen could be heard through the dense forest, a series of snarls and calls announcing their presence. To top off the display, each enclosure boasted individual seating and spots for entertainment for Doug and his guests, arranged perfectly with a head armchair dedicated to Doug at each spot. It was garish and a ruining finish for what could have been a beautiful display of horticulture.
In the distance, Illumi could hear Doug laugh loudly and tracked the sound coming from the northern side of the building. He made his way through the winding paths of trees and plants towards the sound, catching glimpses in cages and tanks of slitted eyes, colorful scales, and plumes of feathers from the passing creatures underneath. Slithering onto the thick arms of a willow right next to source of Doug's voice, Illumi peered through the veils of leaves at Doug and Sousa talking to one another in a luxurious viewing room more private than the others. Gold and glass side tables stacked with bowls of fruit were set next to each end of furniture, plush and decadent. The legs of each chair had expertly carved claw feet that swelled up to the brocaded cushions, decorated with silk patterns mimicking different types of furs. A crystal chandelier hung above them, dripping and clinking delicately like a finely crafted ice sculpture. The low waltzing sound of a vinyl playing a slow jazz crooned somewhere from the back corner.
"No one can deny you've got a gift," Doug guffawed. His pudgy hand prodded the fruit bowl next to the fat armchair he sat in, picking out a number of grapes that he immediately shoved into his mouth using the heel of his palm. "I know people who've been looking for these bastards for decades and couldn't even catch a glimpse of them." A dribble of deep purple juice now leaked out around the corners of his mouth, giving him the appearance of a frog with some poor beetle's blood tinting its bloated lips.
Sousa, draped elegantly on a matching chaise, waved a glittering hand dismissively. "You're too kind, Doug. I'm simply doing my job. Something that those other so called exotic hunters could take a lesson from, if you ask me."
"Well, regardless, you've just made me a shit ton of money. I mean, look at them." Doug rolled out of his chair, giving out a small series of grunts as he waddled towards the glass wall in front of them. On the other side were two cats, about five feet in length. They were clearly built for speed with powerful rib cages and thin, lean limbs that made their fur ripple like black silk as they prowled around their enclosure. A long tail with a feathered tuft at the end whipped around them as their keen, fuchsia eyes surveyed their new habitat suspiciously.
"Now that we've got a mating pair, we can make some pups and sell that fur for J100,000 a pop if you've still got your contacts in the Kakin Empire," Doug approached the glass wall where one of the cats stood and reached his hand out to brace his hand against the surface. A gross glint crossed over his eyes as he purred, "I can imagine you can get them started on that quickly."
Right as Doug's hand made contact with glass, the cat's eyes flared bright like pink flames and a clawed paw slashed against the glass, a series of equally bright pink sparks erupting from its claws as they made contact. Doug leapt backwards, folding his hand back into his body like a child snapped at by a stray dog he had bothered.
Sousa let a smooth laugh roll out, "You'll want to be careful. They can be very territorial and temperamental. Very proud, too." The cat, now coiled over itself like a spring ready to launch, let out an ominous hiss while showing its set of translucent teeth the same color as its eyes.
"Arrogant sack of skin, isn't it?" Doug stammered out, clearly upset that the cat had dared to display such disobedience. "I'd imagine you can correct that, right, Sousa? I can't have merchandise that thinks it can just do and act in any way it so pleases," he finished, stomping his way back to his seat with his lip pursed.
"It will be no trouble. That behavior can be handled in a matter of da-"
A sick thud rang through the room as a needle plunged itself into the center of Sousa's forehead, a confused look still spread across his features. The crystal goblet with wine he had in his hand slowly lolled out of his grasp, spilling its contents onto the chaise. Doug sputtered, his mouth failing to form words as he flailed out of his chair.
"W-what in goddamn-!" Doug panted out alongside a string of indistinct whimpers. He crawled over to the table next to the armchair and began mashing a button underneath repeatedly."Guards! Breach! Guards!" Doug continued to yell. He let out a desperate sound of frustration as the button did nothing and turned his attention to the gold plated handgun holstered at his side, fumbling at its clasp and looking around wildly.
Illumi slid down into the room, a single needle poised in his hand. Doug's eyes bulged.
"Y-you no good son of a bitch! Y-you think you can come in here," sweat beaded across his forehead as he scrambled to lift his gun and point it at Illumi. "And mess with my operation. H-how about I show you how we treat people like you?"
Illumi stood in place a few feet away from Doug as a glimmer of confidence flashed over his beady eyes. A grin split his face right as he pulled the trigger. Doug stood proudly, his grin frozen on his face as the room is filled with the hollow ring of an empty click. Doug's expression drops as quickly as it emerged, his face contorting in disbelief and fear as he fumbles to open the barrel.
"You didn't load your gun?" Illumi looked at the man with an empty yet somewhat puzzled expression. Doug's breathing got more haggard as Illumi got closer, frantically searching his coat and pants pockets to no avail.
"No bullets either?" Illumi calmly asked.
Doug looked up and whatever sense of pride he had swept out of him as he crumbled to his knees, clasping his hands in front of him, pleading, "Please! I'll give you anything! Money? Money! People like you like money. Everybody likes money! No? I-I-I-" Doug stuttered as he spun around, his arms pinwheeling around him as he searched the room, listing everything he could think of as a bargaining chip. Illumi continued to slowly draw closer to Doug, his expression remaining a still mask as Doug rattled down the list of items. Exasperated, Doug groaned, realizing his time was running out until his eyes came across the cats.
"The cats!" Doug whipped around on his hands and knees, his hair flapping wildly with his hat now sat in the corner of the room, having rolled there long before from one of his previous, desperate gesticulations.
Doug slimily wet his lips, his thick tongue retreating back into his wide mouth like a gross worm as he lifted his hands in a plea, "I know you heard us talk about the cats. I bet you're here for them. They're the rarest species with the rarest fur coloring of their kind found on the remote island of-"
A sickening gurgle cut off Doug's wager as a pin lodged itself deep into his neck. His small eyes bulged in disbelief as his thick hands reached up at his neck, grasping for the pin before he fell over, gurgling into the floor.
Ignoring him, Illumi idly removed his phone from his back pocket and promptly submitted his completion of the hit. A small ka-ching beeped out from the phone as Illumi accepted the payment. As he places his phone back in his belt, a cold realization passes over him. He isn't alone.
Pinpointing where the other sign of life was coming from, Illumi straightens and pulls a needle lightning quick from his belt and launches it into the far corner of the room by the record player. The needle disappears, cutting through the thick palm fronds that fill the space. His needle lands in something, but it lacks the easily identifiable thud of metal splicing into flesh. Illumi readies another one, notching it in between his index and middle finger, as a pink flash of nen appears from behind the fronds holding his needle within it. A pair of ghostly white hands follow, holding the nen like a strand of taffy.
"What an introduction," a smooth voice crooned. The rest of the figure emerged from the corner with a slow swagger matching the jazz quietly playing. Dressed in garb reminiscent of a traveling performer, a tall pale man quietly slipped past the ripped leaves. A shock of fiery red hair stood up from the back of his head, waving and wrapping around itself like a flame. A pair of sharp yellow eyes stared back at him, conveying the same sense of danger and whimsy as the vulpine curl of his mouth. Illumi could tell this man was not to be taken lightly.
"You're not a guard." Illumi bluntly stated. It was true. Illumi had scoured the security dossier well before starting his mission as well as the internal databases and no one resembling this man was listed. He definitely would have remembered him.
The man chuckled.
"No. I'm no guard. I had interest in this man until you so unceremoniously killed him," the man pointed a clawed thumb towards Sousa's slouched body on the chaise. A bouquet of red butterflies collected at the base of his throat, delicately flapping their wings as they lapped at the blood beading out around the needle. "You did quick work of him." His eyes gleamed a predatory, sickly yellow in the darkening light.
Illumi stared at the man. One thing he had learned growing up was how to get a quick read on a person he came across. Just from physical stature, the man was clearly a capable fighter, the large muscles of his arms unconcealed by his sleeveless top, his steady stance, and use of nen relayed as much. His attire belied a mischievous nature, one that paired well with his unpredictability as showcased by his desire to remain hidden yet turning to reveal himself to Illumi when there was no need in doing so other than to fight him, which he has yet to make a move to do so. It seemed to him, based on what the man had just said and from his general demeanor, that he had his own personal interest in being here despite the high stakes of waltzing unannounced into a highly guarded compound and had no qualms with witnessing an assassination take place, much less of the person he was interested in. Rather, he seemed to be teeming with excitement just from the sight of it.
"How did you get in?"
The man smiled, an action that caused the angularity of his face to sharpen further. "I have my secrets." Illumi watched as the man gently spun the needle around in midair by tracing his fingers around his nen like he were playing a harp.
Suddenly, the man clapped his hands and the needle disappeared. "Now, my turn to ask a question. Why are you here?" The man cocked a brow and swiftly looked Illumi up and down. "You don't seem like someone who would sully themselves with such undeserving company."
Illumi could tell the man, while dressing it up as simple flirtation, was getting a read on him as well, the quick flick of his eyes relaying a sharp sense of assessment. Illumi stared back.
"Company doesn't tend to kill their host."
The man blinked, clearly absorbing Illumi's enigmatic response, then let a ring of laughter trickle out. "I like you," he purred. "Not too many people seem so at ease around me. But you? You're different." The man's yellow eyes narrowed and his face relaxed from its previous smile, giving a more open display of an assessment now turned into approval.
"Ok." Realizing how much time had passed since he disengaged the security system and uninterested in obliging the man with anymore of his time, Illumi, made a move to turn until the man spoke again.
"I don't think I caught your name."
Illumi paused briefly and flatly said, "You didn't." Before he turned around, he could see the corners of the man's eyes lift in amusement as he remained where he was.
The sun had nearly set completely, turning the bright and tropical atmosphere of the enclosure into the deep, foreboding blue of a forest meant to swallow those who travelled naively within it. As he made his way through the maze, Illumi could hear the man hum the meandering melody of the jazz playing in the room to himself, the sound of it slowly trailing further and further away from him as he increased their distance. Either from a lilt in his singing or simply just Illumi's honed intuition, he could feel the steady creep of an unseen smile play across the face of the man behind him and an air of certainty that this would not be their last encounter.
Notes:
Well, this definitely required knocking off some rust. I haven't gotten around to writing anything in years, but this seems like a good enough time as any to get back into it! Thanks for reading!