((AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, here we are once again; I had hoped to have this chapter up by the end of October, but wasn't able to finish it in time. Doing NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month- .com, for the curious) in November pretty much killed that month, and December was crazy with holidays and whatnot, as always. By way of apology, I wrote a bunch extra; this chapter is nearly double the length of the previous ones. Anyways, if you're still following, thanks for reading, and enjoy! I will finish this story, one way or another))
Ryozha sprawled across the room, too shocked to even swear, but managed to right himself before he broke his neck against the wall, planting both feet firmly. Then, rather than rocketing back the other way, he collapsed, surpressing a sob as pain stabbed through his side and leg. He clutched at himself, then blinked as he felt blood oozing from beneath a ragged tear in his shorts just below belt-level. -Oh, this isn't good... Some of the flying splinters tagged me... must have been ahead of the pressure wave so I didn't even have that much warning. And it took my player with it, too, so I don't even have music to try and help me concentrate past the pain. Bloody wonderful.-
The Speed Hunter knew he didn't have time to scrabble around in the wreckage for the missing player, although he could've sworn that he could faintly hear... -Disco? Okay, I know I didn't put that on there... and what the heck does 'Hands up, baby Hands up' have to do with anything?- he managed to wonder before another smashing wall of force blasted straight through the floor, nearly knocking him onto the floor below.
Recovering his footing, he leapt, stifling a wince as he blurred to ground level, swallowing his momentum and racing forwards. Another pulse of force crashed into the ground, leaving an oddly-shaped crater, but he paid the impact little mind, having managed to shift to Gyo in time to see where it was coming from. -Great... so, unless I want to risk splattering myself all over a wall when my concentration slips at the wrong moment, I've been downgraded from 'impossibly fast' to 'impressively but not mind-blowingly fast', which shuts out a lot of my tricks.-
As he thought, he swarmed up the building face, handholds and footholds found or made in rapid succession so that he was on the roof in just over three seconds. There, he caught a brief glimpse of a man in an outfit oddly like Kurapika's, but with longer hair, a mask, and... -A sleeve full of Nen rather than arm? Oooooookay...- As he reached the rooftop, though, the would-be assassin reached out his Nen-arm, stretching it to impossible lengths, and swooped away, reeling himself in along a grappling line made of Nen-arm.
Ryozha stared for a second, then leapt sideways as the rooftop was partially smashed in- apparently his foe didn't need long to reorient himself. The boy shook his head, trying to clear it. Thankfully, he'd been alert enough to grab the kinetic energy from the spray of roofing materials, rather than simply being shredded again. Gathering himself, he sprinted forwards, taking one of his trademark long, floating leaps from rooftop to rooftop, bouncing from the lower roofs to the higher one that his assailant had fled to, dodging between hammering Nen-fists and open-palm blows.
---
While Ryozha danced his strange rooftop dance of death with his long-armed opponent, Kurapika and Leorio were on the far side of town, meeting with one of the Nostrad informants.
Leorio glanced at Kurapika. The slight blonde didn't seem particularly perturbed that they were standing outside a grungy tattoo parlour in one of the nastiest part of town. The premed Hunter cast a dubious glance at the sign that proclaimed, barely legible under the soot and grime, that they were about to enter 'Razorthorn Tattoos and Desine', which he could only assume was meant to be 'and Design'.
Kurapika ignored the grime and shoved the door open with a splintering noise, blinking as he glanced down at the mangled doorframe and ex-lock. Apparently he'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't even noticed the slight resistance that the cheap lock offered.
A shout came from the back, and a brawny woman erupted from behind a curtain wielding a hefty cricket bat.
"Alright, y'mugs, raise 'em!" she roared, brandishing the bat, then paused. "Y're not from around here, are ya?" she said, blinking at Kurapika's odd clothing.
Kurapika ignored the question and said "Rose? I'm from the Nostrad clan. Hopefully they actually remembered to tell you I was coming for a change…"
The tentative Rose raised an eyebrow. "YOU'RE the top legbreaker they were sendin'? Y'look like y'ain't got th'muscle of a twelve-year old girl!"
The Kurata's mouth twisted a little, but he just nodded. "Mr. Nostrad asked me to get the body-collector business moving properly, and you are the contact name I was given."
Rose guffawed. "Yup. Ol' Thorny Rose goes a looooong way back with Light. I was his moll, once." she said with a sly grin.
Kurapika just gazed at her impassively, but Leorio… gaped.
"An' who's this one?" she said. "Suit's cheap enough t'be a goomba, but he's too skinny t'be a proper legbreaker… o'course, so're you, blondie, but…"
Leorio's mouth snapped shut into a frown, and Rose laughed even harder. "Don't worry y'r little head about it, juniour. So, what can Thorny Rose do for ya, kid?" she asked Kurapika, leading the two Hunters through the beaded curtain and into the back of the shop.
"Why 'Thorny Rose'?" Leorio interrupted, flopping down onto the row of grubby chairs. Kurapika shot him a displeased glance, but had to admit he was curious as well- curious enough not to interrupt him in return to drag the conversation back on topic. He sat as well, inclining his head slightly to Rose.
"Hrm... y'come all this way, an' ya want to hear my story, eh, kid?" Rose asked, with a shrewd glance at Kurapika. "Well, there's enough showgirl left in me t'want t'oblige ya."
"It was a long time ago… longer'n I'm willing to admit to a couple o' pups like you two… right here in Landinium. Things were different then- the center of the city was a little rougher, a little cruder- not so uptight like it is now, and I was a star."
They called me the 'Golden-Throated Devil', back then- the voice that stole the wings of a thousand angels, they said." Rose laughed, a quick, self-indulgent chuckle.
"My papa always said it was better to be loved for your talent than your looks, on account o' one lasting a lot longer'n the other, and, being daddy's little girl, even then, I tried to live by that. Still, if I were dumb enough to believe my own press releases, I was quite the looker."
Then he blew int'town. There was an air of mystery to 'im back then- dashing and dangerous, one o' th'OLD school Made Men. Light Nostrad, although I didn't find that out until later- 'e was just goin' by Vinnie 'Curtains' then, on th'run from some deep, dark secret." Another bark of laughter.
"Later on I found 'e was just dodgin' a tax rap, of all things." A quick shake of her henna'ed head and another laugh. "Even so, 'Curtains' was just that to a lot o' folk, workin' as a 'Cleaner' for the local Mafioso honchos." A sigh. "Oh, I knew he was bad news, even when I was young 'n stupid. But there was somethin' almost irresistible about him. And I suppose it didn't hurt that he was devastatingly good looking, either."
The tattoo artist glanced at her audience, both of whom were visibly squirming, and burst out laughing so loudly that a goon poked his head into the back to see what had happened. Spotting the uncomfortable expressions on the two young Hunters, he smirked and withdrew. Rose ignored him and continued talking.
"Soon, me an' 'Curtains' were seein' one another. It wasn't love, we both of us were too selfish for that kinda thing, but there was a spark there to set the night on fire. Anyway, at that point, I was pretty much the toast o' th'town- was doing gigs all over the country." A cynical twist of her mouth. "Never become a megastar, boys, it ain't worth it. A different lousy bed every night, crummy food with fancy names, spendin' more time travellin' than y'do at the overpriced half-frozen mansion with useless heating systems that y'r manager insisted was good for yer image, and them bastards in the audience never seem t'remember to get the thorns taken off th'stems afore they toss their bouquets."
A sharp, dazzling smile flickered for a second, shaving away the years for a brief instant, then went cynical as the years piled back on. "Yeah, that's how I got my nick- I lost it on stage at one point when I got hit with one too many bundles o' thorns, gave the lot of 'em a piece of my mind and the rough side o' my tongue." The smile got even sharper. "They tol' me a while back tha' some o' the folks in the audience that day were still in therapy twen'y years later after somma th'stuff I called 'em. All the papers after that started callin' me the Thorny Rose."
"After that, things started t'move fast; 'parently me goin' wild like that on stage was a real turn-on for ol' 'Curtains'. That was when he told me his real name, and what he was REALLY doing in Landinium. Ah, but that was a night to remember." the ex-singer said, her smile hovering between 'wistful' and 'lustful'. Then she shrugged. "But it didn't last. He got called back by 'is Don, and he went. Whatever his other faults, Light was loyal, and he provided for his little girl better than... well, that's probably saying too much, now."
Rose offered the two Hunters a brief, simple smile. "In any case, most of the info I've collected is already ready to go- it's in the manilla folder on the table here." she said, indicating it with an open-palmed smack. "'fraid I'm an old-fashioned sorta gal, so you'll have to excuse the hard-copy... computers and I, we don't really get along all that well."
Leorio started to say something, but this time it was Kurapika who cut him off, standing and bowing slightly to Rose. "Thank you. Will you be available later if we have questions?"
Rose gave him another look, even shrewder than the last. For a brief instant, her eyes were calculating, weighing and assessing the young 'legbreaker' that her old lover had sent. Then she nodded. "You and your friends are welcome here, kid. Just have 'em say you sent'em, and this is a haven for you and yours."
Kurapika gave her a look in return, then bowed again, dragging Leorio to his feet with the same motion. "Thank you." he said, and led the way back outside, snagging the folder with a smooth motion on the way by.
"Crazy old..." Leorio muttered, then stopped when Kurapika shook his head sharply.
"No." he told his friend. "Think for a moment. Not what she told us, but why. Remember, she thinks we're both with the Nostrads, at least for now."
Leorio blinked, but did as Kurapika ordered, pondering what they had been told. Eventually, he said slowly "She... was letting us know... why the Boss Nostrad trusted her?"
Kurapika nodded. "And letting us know that she wasn't to be trifled with, either. I suspect she's got a stronger hand in Landinium than that pokey little shop would indicate- where did all that money from her stardom go? I'd be willing to put money on her having a solid information network all throughout the city's underworld. And did you see the shop floor? It's seen a LOT of wear. That's a very busy tattoo parlour, and most of her clientele is likely to be thugs and underworlders. She probably hears about most of the deals and plans in the city over the course of a workday or two."
Leorio glanced down at the younger teen. "Not a bad setup." he acknowledged. "Guess we should be glad she's on our side."
"As much as she is, anyway." Kurapika said, not bothering to clarify the statement. He was already leafing through the folder as he walked, lost in thought.
Leorio looked at him again, then sighed and kept walking.
---
Unknown to Ryozha, the fight that raged along the rooftops carried him within a few hundred metres of where John 'Cutter' Graves was holding court in the run-down old warehouse that served as home base for the Devil Hooligans.
In less than a day, it was already starting to look a bit less run-down, at least inside; 'Cutter' wasn't hearing voices, exactly, but images and ideas buzzed and fizzed up his arm to colour his imaginings with surreal, impregnable fortifications. Already, the simplest of his ideas had been implemented- the interior walls were coated with multiple layers of sheet metal, improvised armour plating until they could get better.
The particle cannons they had 'liberated' from the firefight between the Turvy Hall Shamleggers and Zenji's Mafiosi were set up at strategic firing angles along the street and back alley that ran along one side of the warehouse, and a few of the Devil Hooligans were working to break down the back and side walls and turn the four-warehouse-block into a single, massive space.
John 'Cutter' Graves himself was alternately slouching and sitting ramrod-straight on what could only be described as a throne on a small dais built of sides of packing crates. One of the Hooligans had turned it up from someplace, a heavy old oaken chair with both clawed armrests and clawed feet with some thin scarlet padding that served to do little other than remind you that your buttocks weren't really designed to park for extended periods of time on something that time had aged to be harder than the average granite slab.
'Cutter' shifted again as he stared down at the Shamlegger representative who had come under flag of truce. Inwardly, he was gloating. Despite the disaster he and his had inadvertently visited on the other gang, they were looking for a join-up. Word on the street was already getting around that the Devil Hooligans had a guy… maybe even a boss… who had faced down the goombas and won.
"So, y'see…" the Shamlegger rep was saying, "We need a safehouse for some of our boys, th'Number-men are getting a little too close for comfort."
John Graves nodded. "The warehouse here is big and obscure enough, and we're working on getting it set up properly, armour-wise, but we'll need some better weaponry if we want to be able to hold off the Mafia goons." he said.
The Shamlegger rep gave him a look, but didn't comment, instead choosing to agree. "All the boys what need some hiding are ones who can handle a piece- they'll probably be bringing their own weapons with 'em, and we can probably throw in some…" he paused to glance significantly at the particle cannon emplacements, "… MORE of the weapons we took from the Number-men."
'Cutter' nodded a second time, shifting yet again. He felt an oppressive, vague sense of unease when he slouched across the throne in a position that was as comfortable as he could manage; only sitting rigidly erect dispelled the feeling. Of course, it also dispelled feeling in his buttocks, prompting a change of position, which brought the return of the sense of unease. He glared suspicious at the mace for a moment, then dismissed the thought.
"Sounds good to me." he said. "We'll turn this place into a fortress!" An aerie. A faded voice at the back of his mind echoed, but he ignored it.
------
Ryozha, meanwhile, passed by oblivious to all this, caught up in a surreal whirl of violence as roofing surfaces, cornices and the occasional gargoyle smashed to flinders near him as his long-armed enemy sought to crush his nimbler opponent.
The Speed Hunter couldn't manage much speed, at the moment; already, his right leg was beginning to give warning stabs of pain that he was overexerting it badly, trying to keep off his left to prevent the ragged gash across his hip from opening again, or at least from opening further. He was bouncing around like a ping-pong ball in a drier, which was the only thing that had kept him alive so far, but he simply couldn't muster enough speed right now to catch up with the assassin.
Ryozha was thinking hard. Or at least trying to. A bizarre clarity of focus coupled with a strange muzziness of thought… along with the beginnings of a blinding headache… warned that he was at least mildly concussed, probably from something slapping into his head during the assassin's initial attack.
His kinetic battery was already running close to dry from keeping him mobile with minimal leg movement and sloppy control, and, staring at the almost-pure-golden aura, inspiration struck; one of those ideas that only really looks good while seriously drunk or concussed.
On a wide rooftop, Ryozha stopped dead and watched with a kind of detached interest as his assailant swung to a higher perch, turned, and paused. Then the tiny figure shrugged and fired off a hammering blow, a huge Nen-claw tearing through the air.
At the last possible second, Ryozha hopped aside. The concussive backwash hit him… and vanished as he absorbed it. Mostly. The shock threw him across the roof, and he froze in midair an instant before he got tossed off the roof, absorbing that momentum, too, and dropping to the roof. He giggled faintly, swaying drunkenly around another smashing hit that hurled him the other way.
Another near miss flipped him over completely, and he actually hovered upside-down for a split second before landing on his head. He revived after blacking out for an instant, rolling instinctively to one side just in time to avoid being splattered by yet another monstrous Nen-hand. This time he only went a few feet, the pain in his head helping him focus at least enough to want to avoid more pain.
Another near-miss, and Ryozha was… there. Right in the assassin's face in a single long, blurred leap. The long-armed fighter jerked back in surprise, then frankly stared as the boy stopped dead in midair, wobbled a bit, and then crashed to the rooftop. Then exploded.
Kinetic power erupted out from the Speed Hunter, ragged streamers of red pseudo-Nen clawing across the rooftop, brief shimmers of gold torn off as well as his aura was ruptured by the frenetic, nearly accidental power release. His attacker, though, didn't fare so well. One blast hammered him into the rooftop, while a second swept him right off the forty-story building.
A few seconds later, Ryozha weakly managed to scrabble his phone out and autodialed Leorio's number.
His assailant was hanging nervously by his extended Nen-arm like a battered pinata below a building ledge. He heard the faint beeping noises of rapid dialing, and dropped silently into the late morning mists.
------
"You disappoint me, Sadaso." a soft voice said.
The Nen-armed fighter flinched, still covered in rooftop grime from his encounter with Ryozha, flinched back. This earned him a puzzled look from his teacher.
After a frozen moment, she shook her head. "And again." she commented. "You seriously still think I'm going to punish you with physical violence for not complying precisely enough with my wishes? I thought I had taught you better than that by now. And you did withdraw as soon as he called for help, as I instructed."
Sadaso straightened up, withdrawing his Nen-arm and standing defenseless before his teacher, the slim young woman known simply as Barb. "I still don't really know why you took me in as a student, 'potential' or no." he said bluntly. "But I'll do what I can as best I can."
Barb nodded. "And that's why you're still here. Of course, I wanted you to test the Speed Hunter, not try and splatter him from hiding. The very fact that he even managed to survive after a roaming battle with the level of injury you described him as having is mildly impressive. You aren't the weakling you were four months ago when I found you; you might even be able to make Floor Master at the Heavenly Arena now without needing to Newbie-hunt."
The Huntress brushed her short dark hair out of her eyes and gave Sadaso a direct look. "Still, overall, the results aren't bad. Through you, I was able to take his measure somewhat, and recovering from that should slow him down a bit and reduce the competition for the Codex. The rest of the team should arrive soon, and we can move on."
------
Ryozha groaned, then sneezed as the almost overpowering scent of antiseptic slammed into his sinuses.
"Is there anything worse than waking up in a hospital?" he grumbled as he opened his eyes.
Then he lay very still for a while, staring around and taking in the cracked walls, peeling paint, and occasional cockroach of the dingy back room he now occupied.
"Okay, waking up in some scungy back room and needing to check if my kidneys are still there is definitely worse." the boy Hunter muttered.
After gingerly checking his back for surgical scars (none, thankfully), he tried to sit up, then lay back again as gingerly as he could manage while the room spun.
"I reeeeeeeally hope it was Leorio that found me and brought me here, because that means I can kill him for it." Ryozha grumbled, glaring around. "Mouth feels awful... must've thrown up... but I'm not too hungry, so it can't have been very long."
A glance at the time on his phone confirmed that it hadn't, indeed, been very long, and also that he still had his phone. He sighed and lay back, staring at the ceiling.
After a moment or two, Leorio barged into the room, cheerfully slamming the door open and letting it bang shut.
Ryozha cringed and managed a weak glare at the Premed Hunter. "If you don't stop making so much noise, I swear by all that is holy that I will end you." he snarled as best he could manage.
Leorio chuckled as he rummaged around in his doctor's bag. "Nah, you won't." he said, still sounding irritatingly cheerful. "Doubt that you could get more than a step or two in the condition you're in. You're concussed, boyo."
"Thanks." Ryozha muttered sourly. "I never would have figured that out on my own."
Leorio abruptly turned serious. "This has happened to you before?" he asked.
Ryozha blinked, confused, but nodded without thinking, then groaned and clutched his head. "Never anything serious, but yeah- you grow up in a fight school and get involved in sparring sessions, it's gonna happen once or twice."
Leorio nodded gravely and flipped open a book, digging through it.
"Your bedside manner sucks, you know that?" Ryozha groused after the other ignored him for a while.
Leorio ignored him, then dug around in his bag a bit more. He tossed Ryozha a bottle of pills. "Paracetamol." he said briefly. "Two tablets a day, and get LOTS of rest. Senritsu has already picked up your gear... what wasn't smashed flat, anyways... along with everything she could from your hotel room. You're going to have to tell us what happened. Tomorrow." he finished, turning to go.
Pausing in the doorway, he glanced back. "This is Thorny Rose' Tattoo Parlour. You should be safe here for now."
Ryozha's eyes flickered irritably around the room. "For a given value of 'safe'..." he grumbled, but was too tired and sick to argue. He drifted into a restless sleep.
------
Almost immediately after closing his eyes, he found himself in the Landinium dream-analogue once more, although it was far less 'real' seeming than last time, wobbling sickeningly in and out of focus.
"This is NOT conducive to restful sleep, you know." he complained aloud.
"You are unwell, Swiftmind?" the voice of the Dreamer Under Landinium wanted to know.
"That's one way of putting it." Ryozha snapped. "I was attacked and injured, including a concussion, and having you poking at my already-rattled brain probably isn't helping much."
"I see." the voice said, and Ryozha was abruptly alone in an endless expanse of darkness.
He barely had time to blink before he tumbled down, down, down... into a deep, dreamless sleep.
------
Kurapika waited in a fog-shrouded alleyway for his contact, shoulders hunched slightly against the biting chill the drifting mists brought with them. -Why do stoolies always want to meet someplace miserable?- he wondered. -Is it some kind of penance for the act of betrayal they feel they're commiting, or something?-
A shape sidled crabwise out of the mist, and Jackie the Rat slipped up to Kurapika. Wordlessly, the blonde chain-user held out a fat envelope that Jackie opened and carefully counted. Satisfied, the Rat turned his beady eyes on Kurapika.
"Dunno whatcha think y'can do, a wee girl like you." the short man snickered, "But y'pay well enough to get the info outta me. The gangs... the locals, y'see?.. are moving to band together. New guy working the angles, he don't like you goomba-types musclin' in on his territory..." the wheezing voice trailed off as Kurapika's attention left him.
Kurapika whirled away from the informant, his cloak flung aside and his eyes burning red, chains writhing out like live things as he searched the thickening fog with all six senses. A familiar touch of Nen had brushed across his own.
-Genei Ryodan. Where?- flickered across the young Hunter's mind as all else was washed away.
A phenomenal vertical leap, and he was gone, fifteen yards straight up to catch a piece of fire escape and sprint up them to the rooftops.
Jackie nervously eyed the spot where Kurapika had been, then edged over to try and grab the cloak- it might be worth a bob or two at the pawnbrokers, after all- then he jerked back with a startled squeak much like his namesake as a chain slashed out of the fog-haunted darkness to spear the cloak and yank it up and away into the night.
------
Senritsu answered her phone casually, then jerked it away from her sensitive ear as Kurapika all but yelled "Senritsu! Call Thorny Rose, ask her if the Ryodan have been seen in Landinium!"
"That's one of the first things I checked before we came here, Kurapika." the little music Hunter said calmly, regaining her composure. "They've never been known to operate here, and, at least as of two days ago, hadn't been seen here. I know how you feel about them, after all."
Kurapika swore under his breath with considerable feeling. "I could have sworn..." he finally muttered, then stopped as Senritsu interrupted.
"Wait... 'Thorny' Rose?" she questioned. "The Rose Haller that is our contact here is that Rose Haller? The one they called the Golden-Throated Devil?"
Kurapika, still distracted, made an affirmative sort of noise, then stared at his phone in bafflement as Senritsu let out a girlish, excited squeak. He must have said something, or at least made a confused noise, because Senritsu chided him gently.
"Well, how do you think I would feel at the chance to meet a musical icon? I am a music Hunter, after all..."
Kurapika just shook his head and rolled his eyes as they slowly dimmed back to black. Hanging up, he dropped back down to street level, making his way back to Rose' shop.
------
Ryozha was awakened the next morning by a thunderous argument.
"I don't like it." a female voice he didn't recognize bellowed. "Hunter-fights are nothin' but grief, and you had t'go and bring that brat into my shop? The place'll be wrecked before the day is out, I guarantee it!"
Senritsu's quiet voice interjected. "You… do realize that both Kurapika and I, Mr. Nostrad's messengers, are Hunters as well, don't you, Ms. Haller?"
'Ms. Haller' sputtered for a moment, then growled "Makes no nevermind t'me. The boy's not part of my agreement with Light. Out he goes before whatever attacked him decides to smash my shop as well."
Then Kurapika's voice cut across the conversation like a blade. A simple "He is."
"What?" 'Ms. Haller's' voice rose at least three octaves in the space of that single syllable, and Ryozha jerked hard enough to make the bed clatter. Whoever this Haller woman was, she had a voice like the angel that was supposed to call the dead.
Kurapika's voice, nevertheless, managed to cut through. "I am Light Nostrad's envoy; if I deem the boy needs to stay here, Hunter or no, then under your agreement with Light, he stays."
Ms. Haller roared in outrage for a moment, then started to yell.
"Excuse me..." Ryozha called, ignoring the profanity that was rapidly reaching epic levels of both volume and creativity. Unfortunately, him ignoring it didn't give his voice the strength to cut through it.
"EXCUSE ME!" he yelled, with about as much success.
Taking a moment to concentrate, he jiggled the bed as hard as he could, rattling the cheap cot across the floor, then amplifying the motion with his Nen until it was nearly bouncing off the ceiling, making a phenomenal *BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG* that left him feeling like his brains were about to ooze out his ears... and still barely managed to penetrate the uproar from outside.
The tiny back room was quickly stuffed with people- Leorio (who had somehow contrived to be the first one in there, despite being manifestly slower than Kurapika or Senritsu), Kurapika, Senritsu, and a big woman that Ryozha muzzily assumed to be Ms. Haller. Senritsu was kind of hopping a little, suggesting to the Speed Hunter's wandering mind that her foot had been stomped on, but he managed to focus a little.
Unnoticed in the corner, Ryozha's player lit up inside his bag and began playing "Vertigo" by U2, prompting a very odd look in that direction by Senritsu, the only one that could hear it.
"Hi." the boy managed. "I'm kinda involved in this too, you know."
'Ms. Haller' inhaled deeply, getting ready to shout, and Ryozha glared at a point slightly above her left shoulder.
"If you start yelling again, I swear I'll bounce this cot off your noggin." he growled weakly.
'Ms. Haller' blinked and fell silent, nonplussed.
"Thank you." the boy muttered. "Look, thanks for sticking up for me, Kura-Kura… why did you do that, anyways?" he said, losing his train of thought for a moment.
"DON'T… call… me… Kura-Kura." Kurapika snarled. "But I'm not about to throw you to the wolves while you're helpless. Leorio believes you actually have some worth, and I'm inclined to trust his judgement." the blonde blacklist-Hunter answered, with a sidelong glance at his friend, who was swelling visibly at the compliment.
"On anything not involving women, anyways." Kurapika added, earning a completely unacknowledged glare from Leorio.
Ryozha let out a half-choked snicker, then waved a hand. "Well, thanks for the vote of… confidence… or whatever that was… but Ms. Haller has a point."
Ms. Haller drew herself up magnificently, ready to blast, then paused as she caught what he actually said. "I… wait, what?" she said. "And… uh… don't call me Ms. Haller, kid. Even at my age, I feel like I should be checkin' the room for me mum when folks say that."
Ryozha lay back and stuck up a hand. "First off, I have no idea who the guy was that attacked me, WHY he attacked me, or how he found me. He was dressed a bit like you, Kurapikachu, but with long sleeves and a mask of some kind."
Kurapika twitched, but didn't rise to the bait. "Be that as it may, I can't just toss you out on the street in your condition, brat."
"Your concern is touchOW!" Ryozha yelped as Leorio jabbed him sharply in the thigh.
"At least you didn't open your wound again with that bit of stupidity…" the premed Hunter grumbled.
"Yeah, yeah..." the Speed Hunter said with an irritable wave of his hand. "Still need to figure something out..."
Kurapika cut him off. "You were registered at that hotel under your own name, brat. Anybody with half a brain could have found you, particularly if they had access to the Hunter Association website. Either Senritsu or I will always be less than five minutes away from here for the next few days; that should be long enough to determine whether or not an attack is forthcoming."
Rose looked at him for a moment, then nodded sharply. "Good enough for me." she said. "I agree on not tossing th'brat out like this, although if you start bashing 'round like that again, kid, I'll bounce that cot off your noggin."
Ryozha made to respond, then twitched sharply as Leorio jabbed him again.
"Stay put, kid... you'll be bored out of your mind within ten minutes, but if you make things worse, I swear I'll strap you onto that cot and sit on you 'til you're better."
The Speed Hunter grumbled, but acquiesced.
------
Later that same day, Kurapika and Senritsu were sitting outside a small cafe, sipping tea. Leorio was keeping an eye on Ryozha and catching up on his studies, and Rose was running her business, so the two had come alone.
"So what are you thinking?" Senritsu said eventually.
"Nostrad's men should lie low, or leave town." Kurapika announced.
The music Hunter gave him an odd look. "But... that will leave everything to Zenji's men. They'll take over!"
The Kurata almost smiled. "... right about the time that the local gangs finish unifying and come gunning for any Mafiosi they can find."
Senritsu blinked in shock and sat back. "That's... cold." she said eventually.
"I know." Kurapika said. "But it's the safest way, and the route that promises the least bloodshed- no matter who wins, they'll likely be weakened enough for the Nostrad clan to step in and take over without much trouble."
Senritsu nodded, a little gloomily. "You're probably right. But you do know that Mr. Nostrad has only ordered this because he thinks it might somehow bring Neon's Nen ability back if he makes her happy enough, right?"
A cynical bark of something that might have been laughter escaped Kurapika's lips. "Yes, I know. But Landinium is the clearing point for the body-part trade of three continents."
"Ah." Senritsu said, her eyes downcast. "So you're willing to go this far with it because it suits your own ends."
Kurapika simply gave his friend a long look, his face unreadable.
Eventually, he said "If we let slip vague warnings to Zenji's men that the local gangs want to challenge his superiourity, that pig will most likely respond by digging in as hard as he can, forcing a confrontation and weakening both sides dramatically."
"And what about the people who get caught in the crossfire?" Senritsu asked quietly.
Kurapika averted his eyes and didn't answer.
-----
That evening, Kurapika was sitting a restless watch over Ryozha in the back of the Razorthorn Tattoos and Desine. The Speed Hunter was tossing and turning in a restless doze, muttering and slightly feverish. Eventually, the Kurata gave up on reading his book and leaned over and prodded Ryozha awake.
The younger hunter came awake with a start and a shudder, shaking violently until he calmed down, and then pulled off the wristband he was wearing, snapping out of Zetsu with a brief blaze of Nen-light. He rubbed his eyes for a moment, then looked at Kurapika.
Kurapika tried to go back to his book, but the stare was getting to him. "You rely on toys to keep your control?" he asked eventually without looking up.
Ryozha's eyes narrowed. "Would you rather I slept without it?" he asked. "I don't wear it when I'm out in the wilderness, to try and work on that control you just mentioned so dismissively. I've woken up with everything within twenty meters frozen solid, or smashed to rubble and matchsticks. It doesn't happen often, but it happens enough that I'm not about to risk it in a populated area. And with that dream I just had, this place would probably be kindling right now."
The blonde Hunter just grunted. "You think far too highly of yourself, brat."
Ryozha started up, glaring, then sank back, his eyes nearly crossing.
"And stay put. You'll never get better if you keep flopping around like a wounded goldfish." Kurapika added, still not bothering to look up.
"Argh…" Ryozha grumbled, but before he could say anything, Kurapika interrupted.
"Why are you hanging around, anyway? The attempted help, useless though it's been so far, is… annoying, at best… although I suppose the thought counts for something."
Ryozha gave him a flat look. "Your gratitude is underwhelming. I came to Leorio for a brief assist on a Hunt I'm doing- I needed someone to help me talk my way into the Imperial Museum of Arts and Antiquities…" Kurapika snorted in amusement.
"Well, that is one thing he's good at." the blonde Blacklist Hunter interjected.
Annoyed, but restraining himself to a simple nod, Ryozha continued "I found what I was looking for there, but I can't read it; it's in an ancient language. Leorio heard you were coming into town and suggested I ask you. What with everything being so crazy over the last couple of days, I haven't had a chance to ask."
"I would have thought that even you would be better prepared than that, brat. What kind of Hunter are you, anyway? To be blocked by something so minor?" Kurapika snarked, still refusing to look up from his book.
Ryozha lay carefully still, counting to ten, then a hundred, then ten thousand, all in the space of a few seconds as he slowly turned bright red. This accomplished, he started to yell.
"Well excuse me if the records I found weren't written in one of the six ancient languages I'm fluent in, or one of the other nine that I can translate with the proper resources, or one of the two dozen or so I can at least recognize by sight!" he shouted.
"It took me three months to follow the trail this far. I started in Western Bederusse, crisscrossing the steppes and following the river traderoutes. I eventually wound up at Tel Sif'riyah in the South; I cleaned up an old Cuneiform tablet that no-one else had been able to read with my Nen, and it led me to the En' Elhasrd dig. Unfortunately, I got there too late, and the records I needed were already shipped to the Imperial Museum of Arts and Antiquities here in Landinium. WHO'S unprepared, you effeminate blonde geek?" Ryozha roared.
Kurapika set aside his book, steepled his fingers, and watched the younger boy for a moment, his eyes half-hooded. "And you could have just read the archaeological journals and saved yourself months of travelling."
Ignoring Ryozha's sputtering, he reached down and fished around in the debris on the floor for a moment. Pulling out the folder Ryozha had discarded in disgust when he found he couldn't focus, Kurapika flipped through it for a moment, then looked at Ryozha once more.
"Ancient G'nith." he said after a moment.
Ryozha sat up and stared at him, before clutching his head and sinking back down. "So... can you read it?" he asked once the urge to vomit had passed.
"Of course not." Kurapika said. "In thirty seconds I've come as far as you have on this hunt of yours, without even leaving my chair." he observed. "To my knowledge, only one man has made any particular progress in translating it- Professor Julian Ivo."
After a moment of unsteady staring, Ryozha shook his head gingerly. "I know I've heard that name before someplace... pass me my laptop, will you? I'm assuming that your lovely Mafia contact here would prefer I didn't barf all over her floor and/or your shoes."
Kurapika just returned to his book while Ryozha glared at him, eventually grating out "... please?" through gritted teeth.
Wordlessly, the blonde Hunter passed over the backpack holding the laptop and promptly went back to his book while Ryozha popped it open, banging keys for a while. After a moment or three, he closed the laptop for a bit, laying back with his eyes shut.
"I really hate this head injury thing..." he muttered.
Kurapika made a noise, obviously intending to say something, but Ryozha ignored him with a muttered "Oh, shut up. I know you're all superiour and everything, but I'm not totally helpless."
Then he snapped the laptop open and hammered on the keys with such speed that Kurapika actually glanced up from his book. After a second or two, he flopped back and waited for the room to stop spinning, the screen triumphantly displaying a biography on the Hunter's Site for Professor Julian Ivo... of the Landinium Museum of Arts and Antiquities.
Once Ryozha had managed to focus on the screen once more, his eyes went vacant as anger, hatred, embarrassment, confusion, and headache all warred for dominance in his expression.
Finally, he tilted his head slightly so that Kurapika was under the full force of his watery-eyed glare.
Before he could say anything, Kurapika commented offhandedly "Professor Ivo, of course, contributes frequently to the Archaelogical Journals, some of which I read occasionally, a habit you might do well to pick up. It would probably save you some time on these hunts of yours."
After a silent stare that went on for so long that Kurapika actually glanced up from his book. Then the younger Hunter shook his head. "I'm really starting to wonder why Gon values your friendship so much."
Kurapika blinked slightly. "... what?" he said after a moment.
"You could have said that a little sooner, you know. The Hunter Site charges a small fortune for info acquired through them, you jerk." Ryozha said with some heat in his voice.
Closing his book once again and laying on his lap, Kurapika gave Ryozha an odd look. "I heard somewhat about the hunt you went on with Killua and Gon. You're all stunningly rich, now, what do you care?"
Ryozha barked a bitter laugh. "Oh, and that makes it alright, then?" he asked. "I suppose I should be thankful that I've actually found something you're willing to admit you don't know, no matter how indirectly... the money is tied up in court right now as material evidence against Boss Myoji... and while the Southern Peace tax authorities figure out how to get as much of it away from me as they can possibly get away with. I had some money set aside, although, well... guess it's ramen noodles for dinner for a while. Thanks a lot. Jerk."
Ryozha rolled over in the bed, presenting his back to Kurapika. After a moment, Kurapika shrugged. "Your own impatience is your undoing, brat." was his only comment before coolly going back to his book.
Then he paused in the middle of turning the page and looked at Ryozha. "Wait a minute... unless you've been buying land or something, there's no way even you could have burned through the money you made at the battle tower in a matter of months."
Ryozha made a slight coughing noise, and, although he didn't turn over, even a casual glance would reveal the fiery blush creeping up the back of his neck and even turning his ears bright red. He mumbled something, and, when Kurapika didn't respond, repeated it louder.
"I went home after I finished with Gon and Killua, and my parents were there. They wanted to know how I was doing, and when they saw how much money I had made, my mom put me on a budget and told me I wasn't allowed to exceed it." he said, sounding extremely embarassed.
Kurapika gave the younger boy a long, expressionless stare. When this failed to produce any results, he demanded "Let me see that budget."
Ryozha silently passed the laptop over with the appropriate program open, which Kurapika studied for a few seconds. "You really don't know much about budgeting, do you, brat?" he said.
Tapping a few keys, he handed the computer back to Ryozha, who had flipped over to stare at him in wide-eyed shock as he started to mess around with the budget spreadsheet.
"There you go. Spread the expense across several months and it becomes negligible. You really are an idiot."
Ryozha raised a pained eyebrow, then subsided into a grumbling half-slumber. Cracking one eye open for a second, he mumbled "Thanks. And you're still a jerk." before drifting off completely.
------
Elsewhere in the city, Senritsu lurked in the shadows a few blocks from the Devil Hooligan's warehouse. She had followed Jackie the Rat (nearly) there on Kurapika's advice, since the Kurata didn't trust the informant, and was now listening in on the conversation he was holding with someone he called 'Cutter'.
------
"So yeah, Cutter, I told 'im what you said t'me to say t'him." the Rat told his boss.
John Graves gave him a look. "I'm glad." he said shortly, "But please stop talking like that."
"Eh… like what, boss?" the informant asked, puzzled.
"Never mind." Cutter said, shaking his head and slumping down on his throne yet again as he set the mace aside. "But this's good- if I've got th'head goomba over at the Nossies right, he'll pull out, let us and the Zenji-types beat each other bloody before he tries to move back in."
"Isn'at a bad t'ing?" Huge Jackie wanted to know. "We won't ha' that much t'defend ourselves wid if'n we go all out t'bring down the Zenjis."
Cutter smirked. "Well, normal-like, aye, we'd be havin' some trouble; but these out-of-towners aren't Landinium boys; they don't know what it means when all th'gangs 'round these parts get together."
"All the gangs?" someone echoed.
"Heh… yep, all th'gangs. Sooner or later." Cutter repeated, a smirk clearly audible in his voice.
"Uh… speakin' o' all th'gangs…" Techy Teddie, one of the new additions the Hooligans had gained when the Shamleggers merged with them, spoke up, "You might wanna see this."
There was a general shuffling as the various gangmembers huddled around the screen. After a moment, Cutter commented "This i' Ripper Jack's website, innit? Crazy bugger, but 'e usually puts up some good brawl footage. Pity s'usually silent, tho'."
"Yeh. 'e's totally looney, crazier'n a bagful o' hedgehogs, and meaner'n a blue haired grannie wot's been denied 'er tea. But t'other side was gettin' some good odds, too- Ripper Jack's Boys up agin' Billy Slasher's Shock Monsters."
John Graves frowned, picking up the mace and toying with it. "That's not good." he mused. "I was planning on leaving them for later, when we were stronger, but both gangs have phenomenal fighters. They would have been very useful as shock troops and frontline fighters. If I'd known, I would have put a stop to this."
"Hah… may as well try and stop th'tide by spittin' at it, Cutter me lad." Teddie chortled, waving a hand at the screen.
There, amidst the poor lighting and jerky camera work, Ripper Jack's Boys could be seen hollering and limbering up, enough cutlery on display to stock several kitchen shops, and a plethora of guns, several drawing admiring whistles from Techy Teddie as the camera panned over them.
"Th' Shock Monsters 're in for a night of it, tha's for sure." the tech commented.
On-screen, the Boys were reacting to a noise, one whose source became apparent fairly quickly as a huge truck smashed straight through a warehouse wall to scatter the gangers, followed by the Shock Monsters piling out and wading into the fray, their trademark electrified knuckledusters swinging and sparking.
"Coo-ie, 'd hate t'be the Bobby what had t'try and break that up." Huge Jackie commented as nearly a full city block became a writhing tangle of fighting men, ambushes and counter-ambushes popping out, blades flashing, guns blazing, and more exotic weapons leaving the occasional streak of sparks or fire across the screen.
"That's a good question, actually…" John Graves muttered, rubbing his chin with the mace head. "Why haven't the police intervened? If I recognize the locale, they're no more than a block away from the Imperial Museum of Arts and Antiquities, and that's usually heavily guarded."
A chuckle. "Knowing those bloody daft buggers, they were prolly hopin' for some coppers t'turn up an' add to th'fun'."
"And yet…"
"Th'bit I wanted y't'see I' comin' up, Cutter." Teddie cut in.
Silence rolled over the knot of gangers around the screen, then suddenly the noise of someone trying not to retch and a heavy clang as John 'Cutter' Graves' mace slipped from numb fingers
"Good Lor'…" Huge Jackie rumbled, his tone midway between shock and reverence.
"Did you SEE that?" 'Cutter' demanded.
"Aye, that I did." Techy Teddie snapped. "'Tis why I had y'come over here, after all. There's a couple o' new players in th' game. An' th'two o' them just butchered nigh on sixty men in less time'n it takes t'tell about it… sixty o' th'most dangerous fighters tha' this town has t'offer, no less."
"Back 'er up, Teddy, lesse what we've got." 'Cutter' ordered.
"T'will no' do any good, Cutter. I ha' already been over it a couple o' times, and they're moving too fast. Th'only truly odd bit tha' I saw was..." a rattle of keys. "Here. Y'saw how it looked like they were all gettin' mowed down by a vehicle-mounted machinegun or two? Those tha' the scrawny little bloke didna cut t'ribbons, anyways..? Well, look here."
"Strewth... the big one, there's bullets comin' out of his fingers? Maybe? There isna much t'see, just his hands jerkin' like there's a bit o' kick, an' then whatever poor sods he's pointin' at are shredded."
There was a scraping noise, and then a gentle tapping thud as John Graves slowly rapped the handle of his mace against his chin. "It must be Nen..." he mused to himself. "But what would two powerful Nen-warriors want with a fight like that? They didn't seem to be targetting those gangs in particular, I saw Billy Slasher get out. The location, maybe?"
Louder, he said "Get the word out on the street- Billy Slasher got clear, I want a meet. If we've got monsters on our streets, we need to close ranks and find a way to stop them or get rid of them. And that means we can't afford distractions from the Mafia. We're stepping our timetable up."
The little cluster broke up, runners leaving the building, and Senritsu melted into the shadows to hurry back to Thorny Rose' Tattoo emporium.
------
An hour later found her relating her findings to Kurapika, who was still seated in Ryozha's temporary room, stubbornly feigning indifference to the fact that Ryozha was hearing it as well.
"So it looks like you may have been right." Senritsu said finally. "At least some of the Genei Ryodan may be here in Landinium... Franklin, from your description, and possibly Feitan, although there wasn't much to go by."
Ryozha had been working on his laptop since about halfway through Senritsu's report, and here he wordlessly spun it around so the screen was facing Kurapika and Senritsu.
Ripper Jack's site played its final video once more. As the carnage opened up, Senritsu averted her eyes, but Kurapika stared as though trying to tear the truth from the screen by the sheer force of his gaze. The blonde Hunter's hands were rigidly at his sides, hands clutching the base of the heavy old wooden chair he was sitting on.
As the video played, there was an audible crunching noise as the Kurata's grip tightened, crushing the thick wood of the chair. "They're here." he growled.
Ryozha's lips twisted worriedly. "The Genei Ryodan? Here? Why would they be here..?" his voice trailed off as he fought to think through the spreading clouds of muzziness and pain in his head. The steady sleep had done him some good, but he was still far from being fully recovered.
"They're thieves." Kurapika said in a tone that tried to be dismissive and failed miserably. "Obviously, there's something in this city that they want."
The Speed Hunter chewed his lower lip and lay back carefully as he struggled to gather his thoughts. Senritsu gave Kurapika a worried glance as the Kurata stared holes in the wall, his breathing slightly ragged.
"Kurapika..." Ryozha began, his tone that of someone edging around a horrible thought in hope that avoiding thinking about it would somehow make it be less likely to be true. "You seem to know about the Spiders... does... is one of the ones you think is here a torturer?"
The blonde Hunter glared at Ryozha, a strange look in his eyes. "Yes." he said eventually, his voice flat.
Ryozha swallowed audibly. "Then I think I might know what they're here after." he said.
The Speed Hunter flipped his laptop back around and clicked a few times, pulling back to the police reports he had been skimming during one of his brief periods of wakefulness. Kurapika carefully reached out and scrolled down as he scanned the report of the multiple homicides at the Imperial Museum of Arts and Antiquities.
"Feitan's work." he grated. "I've been studying the Ryodan for years, and that sick little waste of flesh revels in this kind of thing. If it's not him, there aren't many who can cause that kind of damage that quickly, and with no evidence that the victim was able to fight back."
"Then we know what they're after." Ryozha said, spinning the laptop to bring up a photo of the scene and spun it back around again. On the screen glowed a message on the carpet, apparently written in blood.
"Warn Ivo."