A/N: This is the sequel to A Series of Politically Inappropriate Happenings. This story will be a little different from the previous two (which were quite different from the first installment of The Series). It was inspired by two things: first, a desire to try a slightly different genre other than Humour (a more serious one, one might say) and second, the criticism that Kuroro's relationship with Midoya is a little too perfect. So, this story took a while to come out.

Truthfully, I considered not publishing it because the more serious genres of Angst/Tragedy etc are not quite familiar to me and I'm not sure how my dear readers will take to it. However, I decided to just go for it, and I hope I don't let you down.

Disclaimer:I do not own Hunter X Hunter and all the characters affiliated with the manga/anime. All OCs are mine and mine alone.

Kidnapped and Ravished

"Dancho kidnapped and ravished you?" Nobunaga demanded. "Why did Dancho kidnap and ravish you?"

"In point of fact," Machi added, "how did Dancho kidnap and ravish you without any of us knowing? We've been hanging together for four months straight! I thought we would have seen it if Dancho decided to kidnap and ravish you."

"Unless Dancho did something sneaky again," Shizuku said brightly. "Maybe he turned the both of them invisible and did it right in front of us but we couldn't see it. Is that it?"

All eyes fixed on the pristine figure in white sitting on the floor. Midoya stared back with a thoughtful look on her face. "Well, technically, Kuroro didn't kidnap and ravish me," she replied slowly. "Technically."

"I don't understand," Nobunaga growled impatiently. "Explain yourself."

Kuroro concurred with the sentiment. District Four hadn't been the best place to hold a conversation with someone who stood out as much as Midoya, so Kuroro had taken her back to his tent (his other tent, the one that wasn't torn to pieces and splattered with dead bodies). The team that had went to investigate the helicopter crash had not returned yet, but there were still a large number of people squeezed into a very small space. It made for a warm, claustrophobic gathering, with everyone squeezed to within inches of each other, even with Shizuku and Kortopi perched on Franklin's lap. Still, everyone had made an effort to not stand too close to Midoya. Her pantsuit looked glaringly white in the dirty confines of the tent, and just about dared anyone to sully it. Kuroro normally cared little about his appearance when in Meteor City since the environment pretty much dirtied anything it came into contact with, but her suit had made it a point to highlight how dirty his boots had become and how there was a smudge of something brown on his face. All in all, it made him feel rather self-conscious about the fact that he hadn't bathed properly in a week.

"Well, I mean," Midoya was saying, seemingly oblivious to the effect she was having on everyone, "though Kuroro hadn't really kidnapped or ravished me recently, I have had experiences with him where I felt thoroughly ravished after. Speaking of being ravished, Kuroro dear, I must complain about you not having dropped by for sex in recent…"

"That's not what I meant!" Nobunaga shouted as Franklin's hands clapped urgently over Shizuku's ears. "I meant why did you say Dancho did… did all that when he didn't! Why are you here in the first place?"

The expression on Midoya's face brightened with understanding. "Oh, because I needed to disappear and Meteor City is a fantastic place to do just that," she said cheerfully, looking very relaxed sitting cross-legged on the cardboard pieces on the ground, even though she must be unused to the grime. "Also, I needed to talk to Kuroro and it didn't seem prudent to do so over the phone."

"Why on earth did you need to disappear?" Machi asked as Shizuku complained and pinched Franklin until he removed his hands from her ears. "Did you piss off the Hunter Association again?"

"Not at all, dear. I wish people would stop talking about that. It was so yesterday. And technically, I didn't need to disappear," Midoya said with a huff that somehow seemed elegant coming from her. "I mean, it was just more convenient."

"Kito!" Machi growled and Nobunaga made an impatient sound that threatened violence if she didn't get to the point now.

Midoya laughed delightedly. In a sudden epiphany, Kuroro realised she was very pleased to be here and obviously having a lot of fun doing whatever it was that she was doing. "Everyone stop asking her questions. And Midoya, why don't you start from the beginning?" he suggested and she beamed at him.

"But of course." She refolded her legs under her, sitting primly and neatly despite the dilapidated, filthy environment around her. "I came to warn you and the Ryodan. There is someone out to kill you."

"We know that already." Kuroro told her about the mafia thugs and the illegally-armed helicopters. Midoya listened intently and nodded calmly when he was done.

"Yes, that would be the person out to get you," she said in reply to Kuroro's question. "His name is Armando Basilio, head of the very powerful and prominent mafia family, Basilio, in Agocchi."

Agocchi, according to Midoya, was pretty much the baby brother of York Shin. Like York Shin, Agocchi was mainly a sprawling metropolis filled with skyscrapers, clubs and theatres. Given how Agocchi's demography was more ethnically mixed than York Shin's, the city also hosted a wide variety of restaurants selling 'ethnic food'. Every weekend, there was some sort of parade celebrating some culture or political movement. The night life was supposedly the stuff of dreams. All in all, it seemed like a vibrant, lively city to live in.

That of course meant that the mafia would somehow find its way into the city, like ants infesting a pleasant family picnic.

"It's the drug trade and human trafficking," Midoya informed Kuroro with a hint of distaste in her voice. "York Shin City has too many powerful figures controlling the drug and human trade. Those who wished to start their own little monopoly were forced to go to Agocchi instead. The Basilio family was one of those. They came to Agocchi a hundred years ago and made an absolute killing of the business, quite literally in some cases. Frankly, they are quite comparable to some of the Mafioso in York Shin in terms of power, both political and economic. However, they are not powerful enough to take a piece of the York Shin market. The other Mafioso are too established."

"What does that have to do with us?" Franklin rumbled. "We've never ticked off anyone in Agocchi."

Midoya pursed her lips. "You must understand," she said slowly, "that the Mafia is… well, it's a business. Because it is a business, it comes with all the rational, ruthless practicality of capitalism. However, it is also… a very complicated network of blood ties and honour bonds which… are based largely on rituals and pacts made hundreds of years back. There are a million and one traditions which hold a great deal of power even in modern, industrialised York Shin." She shifted, and to Kuroro's surprise, looked slightly uncomfortable.

"To paraphrase Franklin," Machi said, oblivious to Midoya's discomfort, "what the fuck does that have to do with us?"

Holding up a finger to indicate the need for patience, Midoya went on with her story. "One of these ah… rituals and pacts involve the inheritance of power and estates in the mafia," she said, seeming to regain her usual calmness. "Normally, each family will have some kind of heirloom or token that the heir to these families inherit. Gaining possession of the heirloom literally gives one the right to claim an entire family estate."

"Uh huh, and?" Nobunaga demanded impatiently.

"And Armando Basilio is searching for one of these heirlooms."

"AND?" Nobunaga's voice rose with impatience.

"And the Ryodan just happened to have stolen one of them."

A silence fell over the group as they gaped at Midoya openly. She beamed back at them like a magician who had just successfully astounded an audience. "You mean to say," Nobunaga asked disbelievingly, "that we stole an item of fucking absolute power and we didn't realise it?"

Midoya burst out into laughter, ignoring the exasperated glares directed at her. "Yes," she said finally, "yes, that is the case." The glares got more intense and she started to giggle girlishly. "Oh, you guys are too cute."

"What on earth did we steal?" Kuroro asked, giving the Ryodan his 'Dancho' look thus effectively stopping Nobunaga's attack on Midoya before it even began. "And when did we steal it?"

"You stole a gem," Midoya said, "and you stole it roughly seventeen years ago."

Now even Kuroro was staring at her in shock. "Seventeen years ago? That's impossible!" Machi blurted. "The Ryodan wasn't formed seventeen years ago."

"No," Franklin said quietly. "It wasn't. But we were already stealing, weren't we? We were just street rats trying to make a living in a screwed up world."

"Yes," Midoya confirmed. "This heirloom was stolen by the Ryodan before it became the Ryodan. That's why it took so long for Basilio to figure out who had taken it. It's probably also why none of you realised what you had stolen; you were all too young to realise what you had done."

"Midoya." Midoya met Kuroro's eyes. "Exactly what did we steal?"

From within her pocket, Midoya retrieved an aged photograph, starting to turn yellow around the edges. Silently, she handed it to Kuroro who took it and studied it. "It's called the Infinity Gem," she told him.

Kuroro stared at the photograph and suddenly… he remembered.

Bright sun blazing down on them. The stink of decay and rot in the air. Men, tall and heavily armed, running after them. Legs pounding the ground, chest tight with panic, lungs drawing in frantic gulps of air. In his hands, the tiny case the men were protecting…

"I was only nine," Kuroro murmured and felt the attention of the other Ryodan members focus on him in surprise. "It wasn't the Ryodan; I stole it. Ubo, Paku and Feitan knew; they were with me. It was… we saw the car, and it was obviously new. We thought we could get some food from the car. We were starving. So we stole what we thought was a box of food. The men were protecting it so desperately, and at that time, it never occurred to us that there would be anything worth protecting more than food."

"What? Why didn't I know?" Machi demanded, looking enraged and a little hurt.

"You were in the hideout with Nobu." Kuroro shook his head. "It was a crime of opportunity. And we never really thought much about it afterwards, especially after we opened the box and there was just that gem instead. To us then, it was just a… stone. It was pretty yes, but not edible, so it hardly mattered to us, not when we were starving to death."

"What did you do with it?" Midoya asked idly and Kuroro stared at her. She hadn't sounded… off, but there was something about the way she asked that question which tweaked his antenna. He looked at her curiously, but, she only looked back at him with a questioning look on her face.

"Kuroro?" she asked, still looking at him with that inquisitive look on her face.

"We sold it," Kuroro replied with a wry smile, "for the grand price of two zenni so we could buy a loaf of bread."

Midoya's lips parted slightly in a rather comic expression of shock. "Two zenni?" she asked disbelievingly. "You sold a priceless gem, a symbol of infinite power and the heirloom of a powerful Mafia family for two zenni?"

Kuroro quirked an eyebrow at her, knowing the effect this was having on her and taking great joy in the look of horror on her face. "I was nine," he said pointedly, hiding his smile. In return, Midoya gave him a look that told him she knew he was making fun of her.

"When I was nine, I was doing quantum physics and psychoanalysis, and I definitely knew what a colour-change sapphire is," Midoya grumbled back.

"Is that what this gem is? A colour-change sapphire? What does that mean?" Shizuku asked, peering over a laughing Kuroro's shoulder at the picture in his hand.

"It means that in different light, the sapphire would appear to be of a different colour," Kuroro told her. "See here?" He held the photograph out so the rest could see the oval gem cut into an elaborate necklace that was in it. "Half of the gem appears to be blue, but the other half appears more reddish. That's due to the way the light hits it from different angles."

"Ooh." Shizuku's eyes widened. "It's pretty."

"Yes, it is. It's the only natural colour-change sapphire in the world that changes to three colours. Also, it's more than pretty," Midoya said solemnly, pointedly ignoring Kuroro, who was still obviously amused with her reaction. "It's a symbol of power with the York Shin mafia. Basilio has been trying for years to enter the York Shin mafia circles, and if he gets his hands on it, he can have access to a great deal of wealth and status in York Shin."

"Ah, that explains what he is doing here looking for us," Kuroro said, deciding to sober up so they could focus on business. "But that does not explain what you are doing here, Midoya."

Midoya beamed at him. "Why, Kuroro darling, you will be pleased to know that I am currently faking my own abduction so I can assist you. Pretending to be kidnapped releases me from a lot of obligations and gives me the freedom to help you as much as I can."

"And why would you do that?" Kuroro asked curiously.

"Well, for one thing, I am very grateful to the Ryodan for the help given the last time I was almost killed by the Hunter Association," Midoya said warmly. "I don't believe I have ever thanked any of you properly for that time. So, thank you." Machi blinked in surprise and shifted uncomfortably. Nobunaga flushed an unhealthy red and coughed awkwardly. Kuroro smiled at their reactions, knowing that neither of them knew how to respond to Midoya's straightforward expression of positive feelings for them. Emotionally healthy his Ryodan was not.

"For another?" Kuroro asked, acknowledging Midoya's gratitude with a nod.

"For another," Midoya said mischievously, "I like working with you. It comes with a lot of benefits, including your brilliant, devious brain and your substantial skill in bed. I'm sure the feeling is mutual, especially since we haven't seen each other in four months."

"Indeed, I do like working with you," Kuroro agreed, smiling faintly. He looked around the Ryodan and noted little resistance to his agreement to work with Midoya. "Okay, since that is settled…" He looked at Midoya inquisitively, "What do you have in mind?"

"You're letting me decide? Really?"

"Of course. You aren't part of the Ryodan, so I can hardly hope to order you about now, can I? I am most open to hearing your opinions," Kuroro told her, ignoring the complains of biasness from Machi and Nobunaga.

Midoya's face brightened immediately and it occurred to Kuroro that she had come expecting to be treated like a Ryodan member. For someone who had insisted time and time again that she would not be part of the Ryodan, Kuroro couldn't help wondering why she was willing to put up with them.

"There are two parts to this plan," Midoya was saying, "we have to find the Infinity Gem and we have to kill Basilio."

"Why?" Shizuku asked. "I mean, I get why we're killing Basilio, but why find the Infinity Gem? Why not just kill Basilio?"

"Because Basilio has already leaked out that he knows the Ryodan has the Gem and is coming after the whole lot of you," Midoya said patiently. "He is priming the mafia for his rise. So, even if you kill him, others will come, seeking the Infinity Gem. If you have it with you, you can at least negotiate with it, or pass it to someone you trust."

"True," Kuroro agreed. "So what do you suggest?"

"The second part is easy; I know where Basilio is at the moment. The first part is the difficult part. I suggest that…"

"Well then, that's simple," Kuroro said, cheerfully interrupting her. "Midoya, you and I will head to Agocchi to kill Basilio. The rest of the Ryodan will search for the Infinity Gem."

Midoya's eyes met his, and there was something unreadable in her eyes. It wasn't anger, though it seemed like it, nor was it irritation, though it might have been close. He couldn't pinpoint it, but he definitely knew he had put her off by his suggestion. "Only the two of us in Agocchi?" she asked, though he knew that wasn't what she really wanted to say.

"It is sufficient," Kuroro said dismissively. "I do not need the entire Ryodan there just to take out a mafia thug. Searching for the Gem however, is an immensely huge task, which we can complete faster if all the Ryodan members take part in it. Once we are done killing Basilio, and I assume it wouldn't be that difficult, we can assist the other members in locating the Gem." He saw her lips part slightly as if to protest, and saw when she paused to think about what he had just said.

"Actually, that's not a bad idea," Midoya mused thoughtfully. "It will definitely be more difficult searching for the Gem than killing Basilio, especially if the Gem is still lost somewhere in Meteor City. More labour directed to searching for the Gem is, in actual fact, a rather good division of labour. That was an excellent thought, Kuroro."

"Why thank you. Coming from a master schemer, that is quite the compliment."

"And knowing you," Midoya added wryly, "that's the extent of your contribution to our plans."

The Ryodan members started agreeing with Midoya immediately and Kuroro smiled. "I like it when people improvise," he replied with a shrug.

"Or you're just too lazy to plan out the details so you leave them to Shalnark," Machi said pointedly and Kuroro's smile widened.

"Alright then." Midoya climbed to her feet and stretched. The other Ryodan members instinctively shied away from her. "I'm off."

"Off?" Kuroro climbed to his feet as well. "Why and where to?"

"Here is me improvising," Midoya said, giving his cheek a mischievous tap. "We need to go to Agocchi, no? Gosh, I wonder how we're going to do that since we are like here and Agocchi is like there. Fortunately, I am a master schemer as you said, and in my most devious, scheming way, I have decided that the first step to getting to Agocchi is going to get my car, which I left in the only open space I could find about half an hour away from here."

"A brilliant scheme," Kuroro told her with great amusement and she laughed.

"Do you need my help?" Nobunaga asked then flushed when everyone else looked at him with varying degrees of surprise and disbelief.

"Why would I need your help?" Midoya asked, looking bemused.

"It's a dangerous walk," Nobunaga mumbled, looking embarrassed.

"And I am a dangerous person. Fear not, I am perfectly capable of getting my own car," Midoya said, smiling slightly. "I do appreciate the effort, but you don't have to be a gentleman to me. As I understand the workings of Meteor City's social system, none of you are even obligated to help me in the first place."

Nobunaga blinked in surprise. "Why not?" he asked.

"Why… not?" Midoya stared at them. "Because… I am not one of you? Kuroro has explained the Us and Them system to me before, and I am… Them, right?"

"You're Them?" Shizuku demanded, looking surprised. "That can't be true; you're Ryodan!"

"I am?" Midoya asked, startled.

"No, you're not," Franklin assured her.

"She's not?"

"Am I or am I not?" Midoya asked warily.

"You're not," Franklin said firmly. "Relax."

"But you're Dancho's girlfriend," Koltopi interrupted ("She's not my girlfriend. We are partners," Kuroro protested, and Franklin gave him a sympathetic look.). "You're fucking him. If you're fucking him, you're him."

"Excuse me?"

"Sex is the union of the flesh, no?" Shizuku pointed out in a reasonable tone of voice. "If sex is the union of the flesh then your flesh has united with Dancho's flesh. That makes you Dancho. That means you're Ryodan and that means you are Kuroro Lucifer. Why would the Ryodan not help our Dancho when he needs it?"

"What?" Midoya asked, looking exactly like the quintessential deer caught in the headlines of an incoming car. "I'm Dancho? Kuroro, is this how you decide who takes over as Dancho in your absence? Have I taken over the Ryodan simply by having sex with you?"

Kuroro, who had been hiding his amusement at how bewildered the Ryodan's unique brand of logic had made the normally poised, rational Midoya, decided to save her from her misery. "No, Midoya, you're not Dancho, you're not Ryodan and you're certainly not me," he chuckled. "What the Ryodan means to say is that they like and admire you a lot, and would like to help you in anyway possible because they feel you are more than a mere acquaintance to them." Franklin coughed awkwardly, Machi fidgeted and made a show of looking out of the tent, and Nobunaga flushed even redder with embarrassment.

"Ah," Midoya said slowly, still looking uncertain. "Well, regardless, I do not need assistance reaching my car. I greatly appreciate the sentiment though. I'll be back soon to pick Kuroro up. Till then." The uncertainty vanished off her face, and with a brilliant smile, she turned and strode out of the tent.

The tent gave a collective exhalation of relief. "Damn, that is one hell of a woman," Nobunaga commented ruefully. "Has more class than Meteor City can handle. If she stayed here any longer, paved roads and proper sanitation will start appearing miraculously, which would just be damn disturbing because I'm fucking traditional about Meteor City's culture. How did you get a woman like that, Dancho?"

Kuroro smiled proudly. "The Ryodan way," he said, "by breaking into her house."

It was a true pity that Midoya couldn't have stuck around in Meteor City any longer than she had. Meteor City, the legendary city of criminals, radiation and other weird things, was spoken of only in the quietest whispers in the mafia circles. She would have liked to stay and explore the city some more. Undoubtedly, dear Kuroro whom she hadn't met in months would have given her a lovely tour of the place too. It would be a wonderful adventure too. She might even get to try those radioactive mushrooms he keeps talking about. Instead, here she was, going to retrieve her car while he stayed back to give his gang some last minute instructions. Pity, pity, pity.

Speaking of Kuroro, what a pity it was that she didn't get the chance to jump him. He looked absolutely delectable, even if he was slightly grimy from the living conditions here. But then, that man would look absolutely jumpable dressed in a college mascot costume. Still, there were other chances to jump his bones; resolving the current… issue was more important.

Midoya paused in her steps and brushed hair out of her eyes as she looked around. She had been walking for a good half hour or so now, and she should be near the area where she had left her car. But, the car was nowhere in sight. Cautiously, she looked around. Yes, she was definitely at the exact spot where she had left her car. The wind had done a fairly good job of erasing the tracks, but she could still see the faint tyre marks of her car.

Someone sniggered.

Casually, making sure to take her time, Midoya looked around. There was actually a crowd watching her from a safe distant, hard-eyed, ill-used people staring at her over nearly identical smirks. Well, well, well. Still adopting an air of nonchalance, Midoya scanned her surroundings. Certain items started to jump out at her from the massive piles of rubbish lying about. A black car door, too shiny to have been in the sun for long; a tyre; a car hood with the BMW symbol on it. Ah. So, that's what Nobunaga meant when he offered to walk her to her car. What a sweetie he was. One would not have expected it from a man who dressed like that.

The crowd noticed that she had noticed the remains of her car, and the sounds of mocking laughter got louder. Someone said loudly, "It's ours now."

A smile spread over Midoya's face, as friendly and as warm as sunshine. Gracefully, she glided over to the car hood and dragged it back to where she had been standing previously. Holding it casually, she straightened up and regarded the crowd that was watching her curiously. The smile on her face widened. "I'm Kuroro Lucifer's lover," she announced calmly. Then with barely any effort, she lifted the car hood between her hands and crushed it. With great meticulousness, she bent and squeezed the piece of metal until it was nothing more than a small ball of metal in her hands, barely the size of a baseball.

The crowd had gone silent as they watched her with the kind of quiet terror an antelope watches a lion from a distance. Midoya examined her work critically then deliberately met their wary stares with a smile. "I hear Kuroro cares a lot about Meteor City," she told them nonchalantly. "I can see why. This is a very beautiful city. Such interesting architecture, such exotic sights to see; one could spend a good month here, just taking in the sights and sounds."

The crowd fidgeted as one organism, but no one said anything.

"I've heard the cuisine here is quite exquisite too, though radioactive mushrooms do sound quite deadly to me. I suppose that's the thrill of eating them," Midoya beamed. "I've barely been here for half a day and I already like this place. The people are so friendly and polite and helpful."

"Th… thanks?" some brave soul said hesitantly, and murmurs of agreement joined his quickly.

"Indeed, I am very grateful that the people here have taken the initiative to trash and recycle the car that I had wanted to dispose of," she went on, bouncing the ball of metal in her hand casually. "It saved me the trouble of getting someone to actually tow it away for me. I am very grateful indeed, as I should be, wouldn't you say?"

The crowd had fallen silent again, and the tension in the air was almost palpable.

"Unfortunately, in my haste to get rid of my car, I have forgotten to acquire an alternate form of transport." Midoya gave a self-deprecating laugh. "How silly of me, don't you think?"

Some in the crowd nodded immediately. Others shook their heads. Those who weren't sure whether they were supposed to disagree or agree with her just shrugged as ambivalently as they could.

"I don't suppose…" Midoya tapped the side of her face thoughtfully, "I don't suppose I could further impose on the outstanding residents of Meteor City… by asking if there is any other form of transportation out of here…" She smiled widely at them. "Could I?"

The car was of a brand and make that had been out of production some twenty years ago, not old enough to be vintage but definitely old enough to be obsolete. It was impossible to tell what colour it had originally been. Over the years, parts of the car had been replaced with parts that were of a different colour. The result was a kaleidoscope of a car, complete with a yellow hood, a blue door, a red door, a green top and a broken windscreen. There was no rear mirror, seat belt or seats. The interior had been replaced with a series of wood planks that, presumably served the same purposes as seats. The steering wheel had been modified from a ring of metal that looked like it might have been part of some machinery once, probably one that dated from the start of the Industrial Revolution. A nod to safety was present in the form of a piece of rope that tied the driver to the wooden planks, presumably so the driver could burn together with the car when it eventually caught fire.

Well, Midoya thought to herself as she surveyed the car, at least it actually worked.

"What a lovely car," she told the owner. "I like what you've done with the back window. The cracks give it a very post-modern flair. That is very much to my taste; I have always had a great fondess for the postmodern movement."

The owner, a young man with shifty eyes laughed uncertainly, as if he wasn't sure if she had made a joke or not. "That's uh… thanks," he mumbled.

"So, how much should I pay you for it?" Midoya asked, reaching for her purse.

The man looked terrified. "It's okay," he said quickly. "No pay."

"Are you sure?" Midoya asked gently. "I have money."

"No pay," the man repeated, waving his hands desperately as if he could make her leave by doing that. "No pay."

Perhaps throwing Kuroro's name around like that had been a little too much. "If you are sure," Midoya said dubiously.

Carefully, she slid into the car, getting splinters in her suit and her fingers as she did. She gripped the steering wheel, which had already become uncomfortably hot in the Meteor City sun. It took a few tries, but finally the car roared to live. With many creaks and groans, Midoya reversed until she was finally facing the direction she was going in. "Many thanks for the car," she told the young man watching her. "Au revoir."

The young man blinked. "Up yours too…?" he replied in an uncertain tone, as if he couldn't decide if he was supposed to be insulted or terrified.

Rather than try to figure out what social taboo she had just broke, Midoya stomped down on the accelerator and the car leapt forward, racing down the road that led back to the Ryodan base. Unfortunately, the road was bumpy and there were many obstacles in the way. With the great élan of someone very hard to kill, Midoya pressed even harder on the accelerator. The car sped up even more, vibrating in a very worrying way. Humming cheerfully to herself, Midoya swerved right and left violently to avoid the random people and piles of rubbish on the road, managing to avoid killing anybody by the nearest margin. Suddenly, a huge mountain of rubbish appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the road.

"Who wants to live forever?" Midoya sang happily as she drove the car up the mountain and down the other side, causing it to collapse in a giant tsunami of trash and body parts. As the car came back to earth with a jarring crash, Midoya stomped even harder on the accelerator and sped out of the boundaries of Meteor City. "Forever is our today," she sang as what remained of the windscreen shattered.

Within ten minutes, she was almost at the Ryodan base. Given how close the tents were to each other, it would have been incredibly dangerous speeding towards the tent even at the fastest speed this car could muster (which was not very fast). So Midoya did precisely that. What was life but a risky game after all? She was pretty certain someone smart had said that – and probably died shortly after.

Driving up to the cluster of tents, Midoya would have been hard-pressed to tell which one was the Ryodan base if Kuroro hadn't been standing outside the tent, a dark, menacing figure in his large fur coat and dark jeans. He looked like Death personified and materialised, come down to Earth to claim the souls of the fallen. He looked as cold as ice and as dangerous as an avalanche. He looked like he could rip your spine from your body with a single thrust of his fist, and that he would do so without even blinking. Midoya smiled. Damn he was hot.

He raised his eyebrow at her as she grounded to a stop in front of him. "You have taken a step down in life, I see," he commented wryly, leaning against the window frame so he could speak to her.

"Some residents took my BMW by mistake," Midoya informed him cheerfully. "As an apology, they offered me this wonderful vintage for free."

Kuroro's other eyebrow joined its brother. "How many are dead?" he asked, his voice as calm and as cool as if he were asking about the weather. Some people found Kuroro's natural lack of display of emotion disconcerting. Midoya personally liked that it took so much to get Kuroro mad. She did like pushing boundaries hard.

"Oh you have such poor faith in me," Midoya replied cheerfully. "I assure you that the only thing that died was my poor BMW."

"So you didn't kill anyone to obtain this… vehicle?"

Midoya laughed. "Does this vehicle look worth killing for?"

"This is Meteor City and this is potentially the only functional vehicle in the entire country. I've seen people kill for much less," Kuroro pointed out. He cocked his head and peered at her with a disarming smile that turned his face from scary and dark to cute and boyish. "Will you let me drive?"

Ah. If there was one thing Kuroro knew, it was how to turn on the charm. Midoya sighed. She wished she wasn't that immune to charm. It might be nice to be charmed once in a while. At least she would know what the fuss is all about. "Alright," she conceded, knowing how stubborn and aggravating he could get if she refused. "One day, I will take you on a drive and we will survive it, and you will admit I am not a bad driver at all."

"That's quite alright, Midoya. I am sure you are a great driver," Kuroro said as he slid into the driver's seat, his lips turned up at the corner. "As long as you are driving on a wide, open plain with no traffic laws, nothing to run over and nothing to run into."

"Oh be quiet, you. Traffic laws, like all laws, are such flexible concepts after all."

They fell silent as they drove away from the Ryodan base, each wrapped in their own thoughts. As they started to leave Meteor City behind, Kuroro, in a very casual voice that Midoya knew was mostly an act, asked "Midoya, what is in this for you?"

Oh. She had been hoping he didn't notice. Normally she had such a good poker face, but Kuroro knew her a little too well for her to be comfortable with. Well, if there was no way she could successfully get away with lying to him, she would just have to do the opposite. "What's in this for me?" she asked, pulling on her widest smile. "What do you think, dear Kuroro?"

Kuroro gave her a look, that intelligent, scrutinising look that told her he was putting that brilliant mind of his to good use. "Mafia business, of course," he said wryly. "I can hardly guess at the details, but I suspect it wouldn't do your business too bad if Basilio suddenly drops dead from a stupendously convenient cardiac arrest."

Wow. He was smart. His answer was absolutely accurate even if it wasn't the whole truth. "Mafia business? I have no idea what you are mean. I'm just a small town girl, living in a small town world, making my living killing criminals," she said with a cheeky wink. "Anymore guesses?"

He smiled back easily, his body language relaxed as he confidently manoeuvred the broken piece of junk they were sitting in over the sandy desert surrounding Meteor City. "You are a woman of many mysteries, Midoya," he said with a careless shrug. "It would take a greater mind than mind to guess at any one of them."

Midoya laughed and allowed a natural silence to fall between them. He wasn't pushing the issue because he trusted her, she knew. He didn't believe whatever secret she had would hurt him or his Ryodan, and he believed that she would do her very best to protect his Ryodan as he had protected her when she was being chased by the Hunter Association.

She could only hope that would turn out to be the case.

It was a good seven hour drive to the nearest airport, but once they got there, it was easy to find a flight to Agocchi. Within the hour they were on a plane to Agocchi. Given Midoya's new status as 'kidnapped and ravished', they had taken the Economy class, ending up getting squashed between a frazzled young woman holding a screaming toddler and a fat, old man snoring loudly in his sleep. It was only then that Midoya informed Kuroro that Armando Basilio was not only the head of the Basilio estate, but a One Star Hunter in his own right with an army of One Star Hunters on his pay roll.

"What?" Kuroro demanded then lowered his voice when Midoya made shushing motions with her hands. "Why did you not mention this earlier?" he asked in a quieter voice. "If I had known Basilio was that well prepared and powerful, I would have gotten more of the Ryodan to come along with us."

"Because I decided it is not necessary," Midoya replied, smiling wryly. "Dear Kuroro, as you so aptly pointed out, you will need most of the Ryodan to find the Infinity Gem. Being aware of that, I have decided that we don't need their help killing Basilio. I am perfectly capable of finding my own help."

Kuroro frowned. He wanted to protest bringing an outsider into Ryodan business, but that point was moot by now with Midoya's participation in this mission. Besides, he has outsourced for help in the past, so it wasn't exactly beyond reason to bring someone else into the assassination of Basilio. "Who are you thinking of?" he asked instead. "Pepeka?"

To his surprise, Midoya shook her head. "Pepeka isn't a good choice," she said. "Firstly, after the attack on the Fort, Pepeka has been under constant supervision by the Hunter Association, as I have been. Unlike me, Pepeka has a bright future as a Hunter, and I would like to keep it as that. Secondly, we are going to murder someone, and murder just isn't Pepeka's thing, as you might have noticed. He's still trying to regain the innocence he lost when he thought I was dead, that poor dear."

"Pity. I hate to admit it, but Pepeka is a rather useful ally to have. I've heard from Phinx and Nobu that a Pepeka without morals is quite a fearsome fighter." Kuroro put more thought into the friends of Midoya he had met to date. "Moonshine?"

"Ah, dear Uncle Moonie. He is currently redeeming himself in the eyes of the Association by helping them with the rebuilding of the New Fort. If you ask me, I think there's a little something-something going on between him and Cheadle-san too. So, though murder is quite his thing, I'm afraid he wouldn't be available to assist us."

Kuroro gave her an exasperated look. "Then who?" he asked. "Are you going to keep me in the dark forever? Do I need to torture the details out of you?"

Midoya grinned widely in a fashion that caused the screaming kid next to her to fall silent and gape openly at her. "If you like Pepeka, you'll like her," she said gleefully.

Kuroro frowned and replied, "I never said I like Pepeka." He eyed her suspiciously. "Midoya, who are we meeting?"

Impossibly, Midoya's grin widened and the kid's eyes widened along with it. "Pepeka's sister," she said, "Kikita Timbal."

A/N: Whoo! I managed to get a new chapter out in record time! (Pats myself on the shoulder). As usual, hope you guys enjoyed the story!

Trivial: Even though the owner of the car Midoya acquired had refused any form of payment, Midoya had felt bad taking away his car, especially since he had obviously spent a lot of time on it. In an effort to repay his great kindness, she had, with equal kindness, sent a brand new car to him.

The moment the car arrived at his place, the young man had gasped a gasp of horror at the sight of the beautiful, gleaming, expensive car. All around him, his neighbours uttered scandalised whispers at the sight of a new car, one that was given to him, and not something he had salvaged and made himself. "Oh, now he's a snob," they jeered. "Getting new things instead of salvaging the trash like the rest of us." The young man had protested miserably that he hadn't asked for it, but no one believed him.

At first, in an attempt to make the car usable (since it was already here), he had tried rubbing some dirt on it to make it look a little more broken in. However, the sneers and whispers had continued. "You think you can fool us by rubbing dirt on it?" his neighbours shouted. "We're not that fucking superficial, you capitalist! It's what's inside that counts!" To the young man's dismay, it was true. Upon opening the car up, he discovered it not only had a perfectly functional, well-maintained engine with a horsepower of three hundred ("It's so powerful and accelerates so beautifully!" his wife had cried. "It's worse than I thought!"), it also had a new battery, unleaded fuel, a wonderful suspension, leather seats and proper seatbelts ("You are no son of mine!" his father had howled).

Eventually, unable to take the glares and in an attempt to get his wife to move back with him, one night, the young man took out his tool box and went to work on the car.

The next morning, the neighbours woke up to the sight of a, for lack of a better word, dismembered car. The shiny new doors had been knocked out, the leather seats had been torn out, and the engine lay in pieces on the ground. As they watched, the young man carefully and lovingly hammered in wooden planks where the seats had been, taped down plastic sheets to replace the doors and put in an old, rusty engine he had found in the trash. Then, as a finishing touch, he took the radio apart and remade it into a creaky music box before presenting it to his tearful wife.

That night, his wife moved back in, his father clapped him on the back and told him how proud he was of him, and the neighbours brought dinner over (it was Rat Roasted Over an Open Fire; his favourite). Decades from then, the young man would still be remembered in Meteor City folklore as the Young Fucker Who Got a New Car But Traded It For a Salvaged One Which Makes Him a Good Fucker Not a Bad One.