"Come on, don't be so cold, Sharkie. I mean, you only died of old age an hour ago, there's still some warmth in those ancient bones!" I sniggered, trailing after Squalo the best I could in a straight jacket. Due to the hefty amount of wizard magic in my blood, I'd been able to regain a standing position, but that didn't mean I'd be able to move quickly enough to outrun the police who were surely on their way. I was hoping one of the patrol cars was occupied by both a scrawny white guy and a hilarious black man. I'd watched enough cop movies to know the best banter comes from a combination of the ghetto and the suburbs. At some point I wanted one of them to be thrown into a flash back of their olden days when their girlfriend, and/or baby mama, was killed by some Boston street tough, preferably to be played by Macho Man Randy Savage in the cinema adaption. I'd make movies of I weren't so happy killing people for a living. But there is truly no better feeling than ending a life. The way two eyes stare up at you in begging, questioning, hope. They seem panicked at first, darting about in want and confusion and terror. But at a certain point, they stop. People think it's because they don't have the strength to fight anymore, however it's not true. At a certain point when one's dying, there's a look in the eye that only a truly seasoned killer can see. It's... Acceptance. As if the body finally realizes there is no more hope and allows itself to die. The mind allows itself to shut down and the organs cease to function. It's like the consciousness crosses a threshold. I wonder what would happen if that didn't occur, if that threshold didn't exist.
"Voi! Voi! Voi! Voi! I'm only twenty you little whore! Get that in your head unless you want it chopped off! I'll fucking stab you in the chest if you don't cut it out! You're unbelievable! You fuss and howl and you don't even belong in this family! I swear we'd already have accomplished our goal if not for you and your stupid antics! And it's every fucking day with you! You just don't stop and I swear to God I'll kill you the second Xanxus realizes you're a useless pile of shit!" Squalo roared, using such volume my ears started ringing. Well. That was cold. We'd have to talk about that soon. I'd do some good old fashioned counseling. He came clomping back, cracking the bones of people I presumed to be dead beneath his boots, and grabbed my leg. I was dragged down the hallway.
"Ow, okay! Sharkie, just calm it down! You're at a ten and I need you at a four!" I grumbled. Sharkie did the only respectable thing he could and slammed my skull against the wall, leaving me to drift about in half consciousness. Squalo, of course, ignored me completely. I really disliked that stupid ass shark. He was the worst when I was a kid though... I joined the Varia pretty young, I was about eight and Squalo was in his teens. Or, more like his late forties. At least that was how he looked. He'd begun his 'No hair cutting' stage and I used to hang off his locks. I called him Shaky Sharkie Superbi Squalo. Shaky because you start to tremble when you're older and lose your balance and all and Sharkie because he tends to dislike it when you tell him his name means shark. Of course, Lussuria begged Xanxus to take care of me claiming I'd be the child he could never have. You know, because he likes plowing guys and all that he can never have a child. So he bawled to the boss like an idiot and got punched a few times. And then the worst of the worst occurred. Boss, being the fantastic douche he is, decided it would be fucking hilarious to have Squalo act as my legal guardian. And it was. To explain my cynicism and tendency to be an asshole, I'll tell you I was raised by a man named Superbi Squalo. Well, not so much raised as abused and yelled at on an hourly basis. Ah... Memories. I'm pretty sure they make me black out sometimes. Or is that just the blood filling my skull? Oh well, either way it's nice to sleep after three days of solitary confinement.
XxXxXxXxX
"My little toy," a voice crooned in my ear, just kind enough to hide the insanity anyone who knew who it belonged to had experienced. I yawned, going to rub my eyes but being stopped by the wonderful gift of a straight jacket. Stupid Sharkie, couldn't he be bothered to help a damsel out? I was all chafed and cramped, I'd have to go get more Bengay or Icy Hot or whatever those weird minty smelling ointments that make you feel all sexy are. Sexy? God I really am losing my mind. Ah well, I think Mitch and I both knew it was bound to happen. To be honest, I welcome the decline of my sanity with open arms! No one who kills for a living can actually maintain their sanity. And, if you just let it fly off into the wind, you end up like Belphegor. You can smile all the time and pretend like you don't have eyes and laugh like a little girl without getting a second glance from anyone.
"The only peasant I can bear. A little girl named Meci, ushishishi~!" That same lovely voice echoed through my ears. I decided it was about time to open my tired eyes and see what had happened during my excursion into the mind. There seemed to be a little tray table in front of me and whatever I was sitting in was decently comfortable. These two things along told me nothing about my surroundings, but the disgusting smell of other people gave it away. We were on a plane. But not just any plane. We were flying coach. With other people. Normal people. I flung my head upwards sharply. What kind of idiot was Squalo being that he wouldn't just call the jet over? We Varia have our own jet for 'emergencies', meaning Lussuria uses it to join the mile high club and I bribe the pilot to take me to weird islands in the pacific so I can say I've been to them, and this seemed emergency enough. I mean, Squalo had just taken out a mental hospital and beaten a child so you would think that he'd consider his new position on the most wanted list as decently important. Side note, I bet he's got a kickass name on his poster like 'Silver Demon' or 'Timber Wolf' because we all know America is into naming their criminals fantastic things. Which is a bit weird, am I right? They make killers sound cooler than celebrities.
I'd gotten carried away in thought but my eyes were beginning to adjust now. Just before they popped out of my head. I was being escorted by a policeman, in full uniform with badges clipped to his chest. Fuck. Me. And not literally, for the record. He seemed pretty odd looking though. His face appeared to be quite old- Oh it was Squalo. Yep. He'd killed a policeman and taken the uniform. He'd tucked his thought-to-be-gorgeous, silvery locks in a cute little hat and wrapped himself in a bullet proof jacket. He had even put on the pretty blue slacks and that oddly braided belt I keep seeing cops wearing for some strange reason. I would not lie; Sharkie looked adorable, even despite the weird angle I was staring at him from. My head was in someone's lap. Oh God why? I bet it was some fat drunkard with a boner or something. Better question than why I was there, why hadn't I moved yet? Straight jackets were constricting, but not enough to keep me on a pedophile's lap. I went to wriggle into a sitting position, trying to shimmy up into my seat without touching the girth I could only imagine lying behind me. Then yet another horrible fact dawned on me. Its hand was on my fucking face. Just... Touching my cheek. Nearly massaging it. Only one thought entered my mind. This is how I die.
"Stop touching-" my sharp protest was cut short as I pulled myself upwards. I'd been resting my obviously cracked skull on the lap of my best friend. Remember, in the beginning of this story, when I said I was pretty sure I was in love with my best friend? Remember seeing that when I was telling you all you need to know about Meci? No? I'll give you five seconds to go back and locate it. . . . . . There, see that? Feel better now? Then let's continue, Mitch. Even with all the insanity squishing my brain back then, I wouldn't lie. I was pretty sure I was in love with my best friend. The butter colored locks that cover his eyes that were now being squeezed by a hat similar to Squalo's, his eerily thin body that still managed to remain strong and toned, and his carelessly mad personality. But most of all I love his smile. The teeth that had been bleached so white it could give a blind man perfect vision and then take that sight away from him again just to be cruel. He was the only man is ever met who found a way to dazzle me, for lack of a better word. His madness seemed to click with mine just perfectly to agree with what Lussuria said so often. I attempted to throw my arms around him but only succeeded in looking unendingly stupid and flopping against his chest like a fish. And despite the concerned glares coming at me from all angles, I let out an excited howl,
"Belphegor! Embrace me!" he did as he was asked and clutched the confines of my straight jacket. It was an awkward little display of affection, but not a single fuck was given from either of us. Of course, all those around us were shifting about in their seats nervously. My excitement was stifled by a finger tugging me back into my seat. And, yes, when I say finger I mean a single finger. I'm a wimp, I won't lie.
"Sit down! Voi! Such an idiot..." Squalo sneered.
"You gave me a concussion and let me fall asleep like it was nothing, cut me some slack old timer!" I spat a good wad of saliva into Sharkie's face in fury. Then I felt like an idiot. I waited for the wonderful embrace of pain hit me, wincing in preparation. A moment passed with a surprisingly small amount of physical reply. I opened one eye to see Squalo holding an obviously stolen gun up to my heart and the widely grinning Belphegor aiming a bullet against his temple.
"Don't be silly, Sharkie, only I get to break my toys. Otherwise you have to buy me a new one. Ushishishi~!" he snickered, knowing damn well that there was no way Squalo would pull the trigger. But I knew that as well, Sharkie wouldn't get away with killing me. Plus, it'd be a hassle to slaughter everyone on the plane that had witnessed it. It's hard work being evil. That's why I use so much Bengay. Killing equals cramping.
"Stewardess! Or steward, I can't tell... I want one of those mini vodka bottles!" I called, forcing myself into Squalo's lap so I could ram one of the flight attendants with my shoulder. He shoved me backwards so forcefully I was flung across Belphegor and into the aisle. Despite the wonderful pain filling my brain, I decided upon having a bit of fun,
"Prisoner on the loose!" and just like that we were ejected from the plane.
Thanks to all you folks who subbed and reviewed~ Hopefully you were taken in amazement by how awesome this was, though it still remains to be a prologue of sorts...I'm not boring you with strange antics too much, am I? I just thought having a base would be nice so you know who Meci is and what she does at the Varia and all that shiz before actually getting to the story. Thanks for reading! Oh, and if you don't review I'll cut your lurker head off and feed it to a Russian circus bear. Toodles!
~EXB