Rori's Corner: Why, hello, everyone~

I welcometh thee to the thirdth installment of Taint Me a Fusion!

Do not doubt my sincerity. Or you will be hung like the liar wolf.

...All right. Stop giving me that strange look.

Anyway~ onto a better mood now! It has been a bit, so get comfortable, people~

Taint Me a Fusion

Chapter 3: Deck the Halls

"And maybe it's true."

"About as true as the statement: I'm a hermaphrodite."

"...That means it is true."

"I'm going to kill you dead."

Empty.

The hallways were furnished as grandly and as cleanly as he had remembered, but the troubling thing was that he had seen not one single person roaming around. He hesitated as he stood in front of a room, the number plate reading 267. What if there were actually a family in there? Gokudera tried the doorknob, curiosity getting the better hold of him. It was unlocked. The teen took a deep breath, eyes darting around nervously before his hand turned the steel handle. He wasn't too surprised when he spotted the vacant vicinity of the well-kept room. It was a suitable five-star Italian apartment with beige draping over the floor-to-ceiling French windows which overlooked the whole city and its skyscrapers. There were comfortable couches just like the ones he'd witnessed in the apartment he was first in.

Odd. Were there really no people living in this grandiose apartment building besides that man? He supposed the question was really how rich the guy was, to be able to afford this high rental estate. Gokudera noticed a grandfather clock perched on a podium, the pendulum swinging steadily from left to right and right to left.

10:11 A.M.

He was wasting time here. With a last look at the empty room, Gokudera swiveled on the balls of his feet and sprinted to the elevator, wondering whether the man he was following was already at work. He punched in the first floor, and the switch flashed yellow, feet tapping impatiently for the doors to open as the elevator descended.

"Hurry it up, you freakin' slow as - " the annoyed silver-haired lad paused when the elevator dinged. He hurriedly stepped out into the reception hall, feet thudding on the marble floor. Just as Gokudera reached the revolving doors, he stopped, taking in the vacancy of the apartment. Since there was no one here to survey the building, wouldn't it be easy to rob? What about the security? Why was he worrying about this? Gokudera scowled at his own stupidity. He knew the blond wasn't tactless – he must've set up security on his own, unless he was just asking to be robbed. Discarding all concerns and unnecessary thoughts, Gokudera left the building and turned back to glance up at the towering edifice ridden with balconies and reflecting glass windows.

He wondered if and whether he'd ever see this place again. It was possible that he could get caught up in unwarranted situations, such as getting lost, for instance. It hadn't even been two days since he had wound up in this city and encountered the atrocious street gang. But, for the time-being, he would just have to deal. Settling his inner qualms, Gokudera headed to the downtown, feet carrying him over the neatly kept gardens and front yards to the gradually less tidy neighborhoods. And then, he realized, he was in the infamous red light district of Italy. It was proclaimed the red light district because of the neighborhood's characteristic neon sanguine lighting displaying its incongruously dressed women. The downtown was controlled by the mafia and the drug dealers, and so undercover agents such as the narcs would be stationed in this area to apprehend such activities.

The downtown was busy with ongoing events: teens in groups of friends hanging out in the casinos, others at the cinema that was likely a cover for underground trading centers, adults who were seeking for gold and their future in the eccentric fortune-telling tents, of which Gokudera was naturally skeptical, and, lastly but not least, the legal clubs dedicated solely for the sake of adults' sexual desires. He could already see the heavily done make-up on the shameless exposure of the near-nude girls on the corners of the streets. Gokudera winced, eyes immediately searching for another object of interest and heat rising to his cheeks in humiliation.

He definitely wasn't here to witness these questionable affairs.

"Hey, pretty boy," a foxy purr greeted him. Gokudera swiveled around to chance a glimpse of a redhead with her hair clipped to the side with a less than discreet smirk. He looked at her questioningly, a scowl automatically adorning his lips when he noticed her black-laced attire along with fishnet stockings.

"Who the hell are you?" he grounded out with suspicion. It was standard to never trust a stranger. That advice could not be ignored in this dangerous area of the city. Gokudera noticed the girl eying his casual attire that was aberrant to the style that of the red light district, which was more vying to get undressed rather than keeping the clothes on.

The girl flicked her short red hair and said, "You look like you're lost."

Gokudera paled just slightly. Was he that noticeable?

"Also," the redhead continued, leaning in and gracing him with her overly perfumed scent, "it seems like you need help searching for a someone."

This girl was not telepathic. But she was hitting the marks full on. Gokudera glared at her with his arms crossed, suddenly feeling the turtleneck a bit too prickly on his restless body. He sneered in a skeptical tone, "And what makes you think that?"

With a cocky smirk, the female withdrew. "I can tell." Before he could butt in with another critical examination, she said in a clipped voice, "Are you going to stand here forever? If you want the info, you better follow me, pretty boy."

Gokudera bristled, "If you call me that one more time, I'll - "

Rolling her eyes, the girl interrupted, "Just shut your trap and follow me."

Thinking that the offer was too gilded for him to simply indulge in, and yet at the same time a chance that he could let slip forever, Gokudera obeyed, teeth gritting indignantly. He trailed after the redhead, heart racing madly when he saw that they were approaching a ticket booth in front of a neon-lit club entitled: "I Biscioni," The Snakes. They were excused to the entrance, the glass double-doors glittering with red lighting. Gokudera looked uncertain, but at the girl's knowing grin, he glared and trudged inside. The ceiling was coated with aquamarine light-bulbs while the floor had streams of rainbow colored lines traversing the obsidian floor. There were hoards of people jamming to a crowd-appealing beat; arms waved in the air as the neon green wristbands glowed. The DJ had headphones on, head nodding to the music while his hands flew over the mixer for playback.

Gokudera avoided the jumping and grinding bodies, face draining in color as he followed the nonchalant redhead. He jumped when he felt a hand suddenly groping his rear, but when he turned around with murder in mind, he only saw the backs of people going with the beats. "The flying crap is that?" he hissed, already inching his way into the dancing and sweaty girls to find the harasser. However, a hand had dragged him back and pushed him into a seat. Gokudera stared at the girl who was casually sipping a sidecar, flustered and at a loss of words. She did not just intervene with his revenge.

"All right, who's this guy you're looking for?" she began, ignoring his look of outrage.

Gokudera was about to retort a nasty reply when he noted the inquiry. It was now or never. His retribution would have to wait, he reluctantly ordered himself. "What's the trade for the information?" he demanded suspiciously.

For a moment, a fleeting glimpse of discreet delight flashed in her violet eyes, but it quickly clenched when she leaned in, chin propped on her palm. "Oh, nothing too bad. I'll have you dance a little."

He made an unimpressed snort. Like hell he'd believe that. But, for now, he would handle this girl for the information he needed. He wanted to know who the guy was who had saved him in the alley, and he had a notion that this girl would know. It was nothing more than a hunch that he was relying on. But, then again, he had always relied on instinct. Gokudera decided to test this confident red light district dealer. "Blond, blue eyes, has slicked back hair," he started, naming things off the top of his head. It was strange how he was able to list the man's qualities so quickly without much thought put into it. "Tall, lives by himself, and..." he hesitated. Was it all right to mention that the other could fight well? It probably wouldn't surprise the people in this neighborhood anyhow, he concluded – gang fights were common, after all. "And he has a high fighting capability."

The redhead eyed him. After a few minutes of deliberation in which Gokudera tried to ignore the ninety percent grinding taking place on the dance floor, she finally broke out into a triumphant smirk. "One of the most popular hosts in the famous red light district Volare host club. He goes by the name of Gamma," she declared, grinning playfully.

"Gamma...?" murmured Gokudera. He must be pretty well-known around here. A host from this area? How surprising, he thought. He was thinking of more to ask of the girl across from him when suddenly he felt a cold hand sliding up his throat from behind. Before he could think to react, a powdered cloth had gagged him into unconsciousness, dousing his body with sleep, and he was inevitably knocked out cold.

M.M, the informer, stood from her seat, eyes blinking innocently before a dark smile overcame her. "I think I've made a good catch this time, wouldn't you agree, Mister Mukuro?"

"Kufufu, I concur," the liquid smooth voice concluded.

The silver elevator door slid open, admitting the three arrivals, and then propelled to a close. None of the fellow club attendees had noticed the disappearance of the trio, for the elevator was located in the far back of the vicinity, a sure spot to have neglected upon casual inspection.

It was unbearably dark, but it was not silent. He could hear rustles of movement around him, voices murmuring to each other, and cautious touches on his arms and legs. Gokudera stirred, eyes opening wide in alarm when the dawning realization of bonds restricting his limbs and a blindfold reducing his sight hit him. He instantly struggled without thinking over his plans to escape, fingers clenching, wrists tugging against the rope, teeth gritting, head shaking in vain to slacken the blindfold, and feet digging into the floor. Where was he?

"Shit, where is this?" he hissed, his joints straining and his hands stilling in a tired numbness, and he leaned back against the wall, ears keen on any motions outside of his range. His legs were unbound, thankfully, but it made him question the person's or persons' who abducted him motive and confidence. Gokudera cursed himself yet again for getting into this situation, and for his mind to black out on the incident when he was knocked into unconsciousness. His memory was hazy and disoriented, but he recalled the redhead who was feeding him information.

She was definitely involved, he decided.

But he should've known that the downside of the bargain was imminent danger. In the red light district, there is no such term as "free." Gokudera mentally kicked himself. On the plus side, he finally knew the man's name. Gamma, was it now...?

Gokudera jumped, senses ringing in pressed alarm when he felt a presence lingering before him. He instinctively bared his teeth, hands once again struggling against the bonds tightly roped around him. This was humiliating – was he really this pathetic to have encountered these street ruffians without basic defense up his sleeves? Or perhaps he was unlucky in general. He was leaning more towards the latter, but it was no time to be depreciating his life. He needed a way out of this unfortunate circumstance, and brooding about it wouldn't help matters.

"Hey, hey, hold still, will you?" a whiny, teenage voice demanded in a strained tone when Gokudera kicked him in the knee with his free leg. The boy muttered curses and insults as he rubbed his injured spot.

The silver-haired teen smirked in distaste. There was no way he was going down without a fight. That was, if he was going down at all. It seemed like the guy in front of him was only a wimp, lucky for him. It didn't make sense as to what the idiot was doing, tying him up like this. Were downtown kids really this well out of perpetual Italian education and self-restraint? Gokudera scoffed, lips snarling in abhorrence, and he was ready to shove another leg into the wimp when a new and unfamiliar voice interrupted him.

"Remember your job, Paolo." This guy sounded more serious, and Gokudera perked up in dreading curiosity when he heard footsteps approaching him.

"Are we using 'that?'" questioned the latter, Paolo. He sounded like he was containing excitement, but at the same time an awe of horror was also traceable in his hoarse voice.

Gokudera tensed at the non-secretive mention of a certain 'that.' What were they going to do?

"Of course we are. We agreed with the dealer, remember?"

As the conversation continued, Gokudera had never felt as restless as he had now, anxiety creeping up his spine and ending up in the shallow pit of his pacing heart. He was endlessly struggling against fear and the thoughts that plagued his troubled mind. By 'dealer,' he was certain that they meant the illegal drug trade in the black market. There was nothing in this district that could be viewed as pleasant or natural. Everything was obscured by negativity and the raw desires of incompetent humans who were prone to their selfish wants and demands.

And so it made sense, Gokudera concluded with narrowed eyes behind the troublesome blindfolds. He needed some way to escape, and he was lucky this time around, because now he was facing kids who would be around his own age. This meant that he had at least an equal standing with them in terms of strength – if only the stupid restraints would come off.

Shit. Again. Gokudera snarled when a hand out of nowhere grasped his shirt, fighting the offending person off with his raised leg. He heard an open curse word as the boy withdrew, hissing in pain. "Don't fuck around with me, bastards," the sixteen year-old rebel growled threateningly.

"Cristiano, I told you the guy's psycho," Paolo whispered.

That was almost amusing to Gokudera, but at the name "Cristiano," he was filled with disgust. The meaning behind the Italian name was "a follower of Christ," but it strictly conflicted with the male's current profession in handling drugs. He tensed up when silence proceeded; a stark contrast to the hustle of movements before, and then he knew he should've expected something to happen when a mass of body weight clamped down on his legs. Struggling and refuting, Gokudera tried to kick the person away, but at the same time, a hand from somewhere was forcing his sleeve up.

"Get away, fuckers," he snarled, an uncharacteristic fear lacing his gilded bravado. He couldn't move, couldn't see, and couldn't repel. He was at his wit's end, if there were one to begin with. An intuition of his grasped the idea that one of the two guys was going to apply a dosage of whatever drug into him.

He was so not letting this happen.

But he couldn't move, either.

Shit.

"All right, hold him steady, Paolo. We're using this guy as - " Cristiano never got to finish his sentence, because a bang! had interfered, the loud noise vibrating the air particles in the still room. Gokudera perked up, hoping against hope that he was going to be saved from this mess.

Footsteps, hushed voices, gasps, and then a bold, calm, and familiar voice that brought overwhelming relief along with surprise to the latter. Gokudera twitched, and then became motionless when the boy was hauled off of his legs, rickety cries for help uttering dryly as he went.

"We are from the Federal Bureau of Narcotics and Drugs. You are arrested for the attempted use of a drug, tested blue for Methamphetamine, and the abduction of an individual into the basement of the club I Biscioni."

"I'm not involved, I swear!"

"Paolo, shut up," Cristiano whispered, voice aghast.

With his heart pounding painfully in his chest, Gokudera took in the fact that the hand on his sleeve had withdrawn, and also the absolute and unexpected arrival of his savior for the second time, Gamma. He didn't resist when someone, a girl, he thought, by the feel of her hands, undid the bonds restricting him and parted the blindfold placed over his eyes. White light endeared his blurry vision and black spots danced, but when he blinked a couple times for insurance, they ebbed away and left him with perfectly clear sighting.

The two boys, both dirtied and dark-haired wearing worn down clothes, were being chained by serious in appearance officers of the health department. Serves the assholes right, Gokudera thought savagely. He tried to stand up, but found the action racking to his unaccustomed limbs. Leaning on the wall, he saw the forensics busily scattering around the basement looking for other evidences as the narcs took to examining the nearly administered needle. Gokudera glanced at it and felt his stomach clenching in anxiety. He felt like throwing up.

It was a close call to having unwanted substances floating in his bloodstream. The thought made him detest this situation even more. Three of the investigation department sauntered over to him, each looking incredibly more solemn than the next. Gokudera didn't feel like talking to them, and so he averted his eyes, scowling.

"Who's the victim this time?" the deep, familiar voice sounded from across the room.

He felt all colors drain from his already pale face. He definitely did not want to appear weak in front of that man. Oh shit, don't come over. Don't you dare -

"Oi, oi, oi, kid, you're a professional at attracting trouble."

What did he say?!

"Gamma, you know this boy?" one of the narcs asked, pen tapping his clipboard.

Gokudera tensed as the tall blond stepped into the ring of drug investigators, cobalt eyes never failing to suppress surprise. He was wearing a black suit, varying from the casual clothes Gokudera had seen him in the day before, and his intimidating stature was as steeled as ever.

"The victim this time around is the first to ever survive this case against the Impero," a calculative voice informed from the back. A wavy redhead with square glasses perched on his nose was inspecting the needle and its liquid drug, white lab coat dragging over the floor.

Would they stop referring to him as "the victim?" This was seriously getting to his nerves. With a scowl, Gokudera pushed through the indignant narcs, disregarding that they had saved him, and tried to head out the door with its picked lock when Gamma stopped him – indirectly.

"I know, Shoichi. And so this means that the brat will be in constant danger before the head decides to hunt him down and then kill him."

Gokudera turned slowly in shock, emerald eyes meeting calm oceanic ones. They flickered with something akin to vague concern, but the faint emotion was replaced by a sheen of professional astuteness when he strode across the floor, seemingly as undaunted as the day he and the teen had first met. Gamma stared down at the latter, steel-blue irises displaying something bordering disapproval. "You are the witness to the near drug usage of the two males. We will need you to affirm the regarded details up to date just before you were forced unconscious."

"The hell? What if I don't want to?" Gokudera snapped, fully registering the boundless eyes focused on him. He didn't even appear embarrassed by the unwanted attention, as the frustration and aggravation of this whole scenario had hit him.

Gamma slowly smirked, as if already expecting this reaction out of the stubborn silver-haired teen.

"Then, you'll just have to deal with me in the apartment, alone, until you finally let loose the details regarding this bust."

Oh. Flying. Shit. No.

Rori's Note: I'd originally intended TMF (Taint Me a Fusion) to be an estimated 14-17 chapters, but with the path I'm taking, it has now prolonged to 20+ chappies.

Oh yay.

With more enthusiasm this time, please.

OH YESH!

All right. Now, Seme and I are deciding for a couple date for NightSmex mm~ Like how 6927 has its own on August something. You guys choose a month or date!

Double updates for NightSmex today~ Check out Trust Me, I Lie (TML) by Self-Proclaimed Seme!~