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.
Disclaimer:I do not own Hunter X Hunter and all the characters affiliated with the manga/anime. All OCs are mine and mine alone. The views stated by the characters do not always reflect the views of the author either. All characters and settings in this story are fictional, either from the manga/anime HunterXHunter or are of my own invention.
Countdown: Ten Hours
By the time Kuroro left the motel, it was late enough to be considered early. Stopping at the entrance of the motel, he looked around nonchalantly, but there didn't seem to be anyone watching the motel. That was good; the fight with Decimal had been tough but quiet. If Kuroro was lucky, no one would think much about Decimal's disappearance until sometime after daybreak or whenever it is Basilio wanted his men to gather at his mansion. With that thought in mind, he had even cleaned up after the fight as best he could. It wouldn't fool a trained crime scene investigator, but a casual passer-by wouldn't be able to spot the tell-tale signs of a fight.
As he glanced once more around the front of the motel, he spotted Decimal's car, sitting in the parking lot next to three other cars. If he was going to delay the discovery of Decimal's fate, he would have to get rid of the car as well. With that in mind, he started to walk over to the car, keeping his face down like a man who had just had an illicit but decidedly non-lethal affair in a motel. Thinking guilty thoughts helped.
Reaching the car, Kuroro pulled open the front door and started to slide into the driver's seat. The distinctive odour of blood and death stopped him.
Pausing, Kuroro closed his eyes and inhaled sharply through his nose. There. There was that scent again. He had smelt it earlier when he was in the car, but hadn't thought much of it. The car belonged to a mercenary working for the mafia; it wouldn't be difficult to imagine violent and fatal things have happened to people in this car before. But, the smell had gotten much stronger in the span of a few hours. That meant it wasn't caused by old blood. That meant…
Kuroro rounded the car, popped the trunk open and looked in. Pretty Kitty's sightless eyes looked back.
The trunk was a mess, with blood, bones and innards spilling everywhere. Her body was mostly intact but showed signs of having been tortured. Kuroro wondered when Decimal had found the time to do this. It wouldn't have been too difficult, he thought; the mutilation was done with little finesse. A child with a good blade could have done this much damage in under ten minutes. That was, if the child was raised in Meteor City. Kuroro had found that children outside Meteor City tended to be extremely lacking in the knowledge of how to properly inflict pain on others. Some of them actually used verbal taunting instead of a good blade. Such standards were surely to be frowned upon.
Still, this was an inconvenience. He needed the car to remain undiscovered for a while, and it would be difficult to do that with a rotting corpse in the trunk. The smell would eventually alert someone and the police would be called in. He would have to get rid of the body separately. If they weren't in an open space, he could have used Nen Fish but…
A strong hand, tough with callouses clamped on his shoulder and Kuroro jerked with shock and disbelief. What on earth…! It really shouldn't be that easy to sneak up on him, especially not when he had his guard up.
"That's a mess," a familiar voice noted.
Kuroro glanced at the person holding his shoulder and relaxed marginally. "Kikita," he said coolly, "what a pleasant surprise." Not that it was. She had hidden her presence and approached him. Anyone in this business would recognise that as a deliberate threat.
The powerful hand lifted off his shoulder and Kikita nodded at him. "Not a surprise," she said with a shrug. "I used the GPS on your phone to find you."
"Oh." Kuroro wasn't aware that could be done. Once this was over, he should probably get Shalnark to do something about it.
Looking easily over his shoulder, Kikita tilted her head and regarded the contents of the trunk with uncharacteristic expressionlessness. "What are you doing?" she asked.
Kuroro did not reply immediately because he was too busy returning his mind to the problem at hand. "I need to hide the car," he told her finally, "and the body."
"Okay." Kikita nodded. "Who is that?" she asked.
"A prostitute," Kuroro told her, frowning as he tried to figure out if it was possible to remove the entire body from the trunk, get it into an enclosed area and feed it to the Nen Fish. It was possible, but what was he to do about all the blood in the trunk? It would require some industrial-strength detergent to get rid of. Undoubtedly someone like Decimal would have a cleaning team at hand to deal with it, just as Kuroro had Shizuku. Unfortunately, Shizuku was all the way in Meteor City.
"I see." Abruptly, hot, burning Nen engulfed him. Startled, Kuroro leapt away immediately, flipping head over heels once before landing a distance away from the figure practically exploding with Nen.
"Kikita?" Kuroro questioned warily as smoke rose from his clothes where her Nen had singed him. "What is the meaning of this?"
The car park was poorly lit, so Kuroro could hardly see Kikita's face, but her voice, when she spoke, was low and dangerous. "Did you do this?" she asked. "Did you kill her?"
Kuroro stared. "No," he replied emphatically. Then because he couldn't control his curiosity, he asked, "Does it actually bother you if I did?"
"Of course," Kikita replied coldly, short blonde hair ruffling in the night breeze. "And I don't believe you. I saw you enter that brothel with this girl. Kind of weird the one girl who picks you up gets killed, huh, Dancho?"
"Don't call me that." Kuroro eyed her thoughtfully. "Are you really Midoya's friend?" he asked disapprovingly. "I doubt Midoya would mind the occasional murder of innocents, especially if there were a good reason for it."
"No, but I'm not Midoya," Kikita said, and though Kuroro still couldn't see her face, he could feel the surge in her Nen. "And I do mind that you killed an innocent girl."
"I didn't kill her," Kuroro replied, starting to feel frustrated. There were things that needed to be done before daybreak, and this woman was delaying him with her childish moral concerns. Why were all the Timbal siblings this irrational? What had gone wrong in their upbringing? Or was it genetic? Could stupidity be passed on in the genes? "Kikita, we don't have time for this."
"I think we do," Kikita countered, and Kuroro watched her slide into a combat position. "Come on, Kuroro, fight back or I'm going to fucking kill you on the spot." That was a line straight out of Pepeka's mouth, but spoken with confidence, strength and factuality. That was the key difference between this woman and her younger brother, Kuroro realised as he whipped out his book for the second time that night, a key difference that made her infinitely more powerful and dangerous than her inexperienced younger brother: the ability to keep a clear head, even in an emotionally elevated state.
"You are making a mistake," Kuroro told her coldly, one last attempt to get her to see reason. "We have a common goal, remember? The death of Armando Basilio? Does that ring any bells?"
"Midoya and I can do that on our own."
"Do you think Midoya will continue to work with you if you kill me?"
Kikita must have grinned because her perfect white teeth gleamed in the dark. "I've outlived all her other boyfriends," she said. "I'm pretty certain she will get over your death soon enough."
Before she was done speaking, Kuroro materialised Fun Fun Cloth and flung it at her, hoping to take her by surprise and capture her without killing her. Unlike Kikita, he had every reason to believe Midoya would be downright furious with him if he killed her friend and Pepeka's sister, no matter how valid his reason was.
At first, he thought it might work as the Cloth started to close in around Kikita. But at the very last moment, she hit it away – with her bare fist.
Kuroro's eyebrows disappeared into his bandanna as Kikita smirked and shook her fist in a mock display of pain. "Is that all?" she asked, the question swimming in sarcasm. "I kind of expected more from the Dancho of the Genei Ryodan."
Ah. That went straight to that streak of competitiveness in him. Well, well, well, a challenge presented itself: how to defeat Kikita Timbal and prove to her he was as strong as rumour goes, all without incurring Midoya's wrath? The answer came with surprising ease.
Steal her Nen.
Without her Nen, Kikita would be unable to fight him and would have to acknowledge that he was pretty darn smart to steal her Nen during battle. He wouldn't have to kill her either, and if Midoya insisted, he could always return her Nen to her. It was perfect. The only problem was actually stealing her Nen, but this wouldn't be fun if it wasn't difficult now, would it?
Cheered up by the prospect of a challenge, Kuroro waved his book away and drew his Benz knife. Shifting his weight to the balls of his feet, he sprang forward, slashing out quickly at his opponent. Kikita moved at the same time, dodging below his knife and hitting him square in the gut. Kuroro took the blow and rolled with it, leaping back to his feet as fast as he could, coughing. That was a… potent blow. Kikita hadn't been pulling the punches at all. Even though he had defended with Kou, he had still sustained a degree of damage.
Wiping pink-tinged spit off his lip, Kuroro examined Kikita's glowing form thoughtfully. Though it is not always the case, Nen types are often passed down from parent to child. For example, Illumi Zoldyck, Kuroro knew, was Manipulation type just like his mother (he had been very pleased that he had managed to get Illumi to slip up on that piece of information before he realised what he was saying). So, though from what he had seen of Kikita, her style of fighting and the sheer amount of Nen she had, he would have guessed she was Reinforcement, it was not out of the question that she was Materialization, like her brother. Pepeka, after all, had excellent talent in the field of Reinforcement, as his own sensei had told him, and it could be the same with Kikita.
Well, there was no point in thinking about it; he might as well just ask. Sometimes, he did get lucky and his opponent was dumb enough to reply. From what he had seen of the Timbal family, intelligence didn't seem to feature prominently in their genetic profile. "That was a good punch. Reinforcement?" he asked as they circled each other.
"Maybe," Kikita replied and Kuroro smiled faintly. Well, there went his amateurish attempt at genetic profiling. "Aren't you going to attack me?" Kikita asked as she edged closer. "If you aren't, I'm going to attack you."
That might potentially fulfil the second criteria, so Kuroro shrugged and said, "Be my guest." In a split second, he found himself jumping over a powerful roundabout fist.
Before he could land, Kikita kicked at him and he was forced to block the attack. Even as he fell, he attempted to slash at her with the Benz knife, but she dodged it before slamming a powerful fist into his temple.
Cursing inwardly, Kuroro landed and immediately leapt out of her range. Still in a crouch, he shook his head, trying to clear the flashes of light floating before his eyes. That had hurt. If he was any judge, Kikita was at least as physically strong as Phinx. That leant more credence to the theory that she was Reinforcement type. If she was, it would be dumb for him to engage her in physical combat. He was a skilled fighter, but Reinforcement types were notoriously good at close combat.
Taking a deep breath, he whipped out his book again, fingers expertly searching out the page he was looking for. This was a skill he hadn't tried in battle before and he risked bumbling around like an idiot before he got control of it, but he was willing to take the chance. No time like the present and all that. Besides, he had been very eager to try it out for a couple of months now.
"Phantasie Dom," Kuroro read off the book. Immediately, a large dome of energy fell over the both of them, illuminating the area within the dome with a brilliant white light. Kikita, now thrown into bright relief, froze on the spot, eyes darting around as she assessed the new threat. In the glare of the dome, Kuroro saw that Kikita was armed. A utility belt slung around her hips hosted a whole series of weapons hung: brass knuckles, dagger, and even an honest-to-god axe.
It seemed the obsession with the medieval ran in the family, but while Pepeka had fancied himself a knight in shining armour, Kikita obviously thought of herself more as a Viking than a noble lady.
She saw when he noticed her weapons and scowled at him fiercely. Wordlessly, she ripped the brass knuckles off her belt and slid them over her left hand. Her right hand gripped the axe and she pulled it out of the holster, giving it an experimental swing. The moment both weapons touched her hands, Nen flooded into them, turning them into deadly weapons that could smash through his defences if she wanted them to. Even if he defended fully with Nen, he had no doubt she was perfectly capable of breaking every bone in his body with those weapons.
Criteria two fulfilled? Perhaps. Kuroro smiled at her. He just needed to get her to explain her powers now. That was always the hardest part about his powers. "Viking?" he questioned.
"None of your fucking business," Kikita replied, a fierce grin on her face. "Come on. Show me what you got."
Ah. A tough one. No matter. Even if he didn't manage to steal her skill, he would still get to test out this particular skill. Kuroro felt his heart flutter slightly in anticipation. Time to see how useful it was. "Phantasy born," he said softly, speaking the key word to active the power. At the same time, Kikita lunged forward, bringing the axe down on him in a burst of furious strength and brutal speed.
Only he was not there. Or rather he was there, but no longer 'Kuroro Lucifer'. Kuroro regarded the Mary Janes on his feet and struggled not to smile.
"What the fuck!" Kikita growled as she leapt back. Obviously getting over her shock, she raised her weapon again. "Nice illusion, Kuroro," she said, eyes narrowed. "Did you think I wouldn't attack you just because you look like Midoya now?"
His hands, small, pudgy and soft, but powerful, patted down the flowery dress he was wearing. Too bad these powers only allowed him to transform into one person as he had last saw him or her. At least he wasn't wearing a wig. "No," Kuroro said gleefully, "I turned into Midoya because of this." Anticipation almost made him shiver with pleasure. "Ying," he said softly and immediately turned into a white mist.
Well, well, well. So this is what it is like to become a cloud of poisonous, acidic gas. It was an odd sensation. Though Kuroro could feel that he was suspended several feet above the ground, he felt like himself, like a human in a human-shaped body. However, when he moved his arms, all he saw were puffs of white mist floating about in the general direction of his movements. Against his better instincts, Kuroro spent some time waving his arms around aimlessly just so he could watch the puffs of white mist flowing about. Oh, it was fun.
Something silver glinted and Kuroro blinked in surprise as he felt something pass painlessly through his body. Abruptly, he became aware that Kikita had just thrown a slim throwing knife through him. Though it had felt exactly like how a knife through his stomach should feel, it hadn't hurt and he certainly wasn't bleeding. If anything, the only damage done was to the throwing knife, now a puddle of melted metal alloy on the ground.
"Oh fucking fuck fuck," Kikita cursed. "It's not just an illusion, is it?"
Kuroro grinned, though she couldn't see it because of the form he was in. No, it wasn't just an illusion. Phantasie Dom was one of the most fascinating skills he had come across in a while. It allowed the user to transform into any one person, take on their form and all their Nen-abilities. There was a long series of strict requirements to meet before doing so of course. Firstly, the transformation can only take place if the user was within the Dome created by the key word 'Phantasy'. Secondly, the user can only transform into someone whom he had met before, and whose abilities he has seen before. Thirdly, the Dome will fade in fifteen minutes, as will the transformation since it had to take place within the Dome. Fourthly, the user is granted access only to the Nen-abilities of the person he or she is transforming into, and not their memories, personalities or other non-Nen related abilities. Fifthly, the user can only transform into one person per summoning of the Dome. If the user wished to transform into another person, the Dome had to be dissolved and reformed. It was a very complicated power, and not one that was particularly practical in many senses, but Kuroro had wanted it the moment he saw it for one reason and one reason only - to have access, if only temporarily, to Midoya's fascinating powers.
And why not? He already knew her Ying form was an excellent weapon against Reinforcement types like Ubogin.
Still smiling with pleasure, Kuroro pounced forward, jumping straight for Kikita. To his surprise, instead of jumping a few feet high like he had planned, he ended up soaring to the top of the Dome. Right. So he wasn't supposed to use too much strength when moving. Now how on earth does he stop in mid-air?
Pretending he was swimming (the one sport he was really not good at), Kuroro waved his arms about. Miraculously, it worked, and his ascend stopped just before he exited the Dome. If he had a human form, Kuroro mused, he would look utterly ridiculous, waving and kicking around like that. However, since he was not in his human, Kuroro waved and kicked shamelessly until he was swooping for Kikita, just as he had seen Midoya do to her opponents before.
Before he could reach her, Kikita dropped and rolled under him, and Kuroro found himself backpedalling hard to stop himself from zooming out of the Dome. Managing a rather nifty swirl, Kuroro did a somersault in mid-air and turned to face Kikita again.
Her eyes were narrowed as she watched him. Kuroro saw it when realisation hit her. It seemed she had figured out he needed to stay in the Dome to use his powers. He had to get her before she found a way to trick him into leaving the…
A powerful foot stomped onto the ground, shaking the earth and rooting Kuroro to his spot. Her eyes fixed on him, glowing with a red energy full of hatred and rage, and her teeth bared in a fierce snarl. She stomped the ground again then pounded her chest with her fists still wrapped around her weapons. The blows thudded against her flesh violently, hard enough to bruise. Then she tossed back her head and screamed, a wild, primal sound that humans, pampered, civilised humans, had forgotten through the centuries. Something in Kuroro's soul screamed back in challenge and he shivered.
Almost like she had heard his soul's response, she screamed again, spittle flying from her mouth as she smashed the ground with her fist. Nen exploded from her, filling the entire Dome with her presence and flooding her limbs. Her muscles started to bulge, straining at the tight muscle tee she was wearing. Her eyes, now twin pools of red light met his, and she howled and pounded forward, axe raised to smite him.
Though she was almost on him, Kuroro remained still, watching her with genuine interest. This was the first time Kuroro had ever met a true-blue berserker and it was a truly astounding sight. At that moment, Kikita Timbal looked nothing like a mere Poacher Hunter. She had become a vision of long-forgotten primeval goddesses, the wild goddesses of war and fertility that had ruled civilisations for centuries. The untamed goddesses of the hunt that civilisation had chosen to forget, to imagine didn't exist, to reform in the image of passivity, submission and motherhood. But the memory was always there, hidden in their souls, and only brought to the surface in times like this. Facing down this fearsome image of the past, Kuroro found himself struck dumb by the seductive call of the hunt howling through the night air.
So caught in his thoughts was he that Kuroro barely managed to react when Kikita's axe smashed into the earth in front of him. A tiny crater cracked into the ground and the backlash from her blow carried Kuroro across the entire Dome. Struggling, Kuroro managed to right himself, just in time to see Kikita reappear before him, screaming in rage as she pounded the ground with her axe again. This time, the resulting gust of wind took Kuroro all the way up to the top of the Dome.
Well. This wasn't working. Any moment now, Kikita would successfully force him out of the Dome and this particular skill will shut down on its own. It was time to switch tactics. "Yang," Kuroro said – and nothing happened. Huh. It seemed he had to change to the human form before changing to a different form. He had long suspected that was a requirement in Midoya's powers, but it was nice to have confirmation. As far as he knew, turning back to human form did not require a key word, so Kuroro simply imagined being human again.
The pull of gravity felt unnaturally heavy as he landed on his feet, but Kuroro didn't stop to complain. He blindly leapt away, just in time to avoid the heavy blow that would have cleaved his head in half. Jumping back nimbly, he managed to gasp, "Yang", just as Kikita reached him again, screaming with rage as she swung her axe at him.
Coldness seeped through his veins, and the next thing he knew, he was a gleaming statue of silver. Just as with Midoya's other form, this form did not feel any different from his human form. However, the moment he started to move, he felt the strength coursing through him. Midoya had once said she had little talent in the Reinforcement field. She had lied. This form amplified Reinforcement skills, elevating his physical power and filling him with vitality. It was exhilarating, feeling so much power coursing through his veins.
Dropping to a crouch, Kuroro pivoted around, dodging Kikita's blow and spinning around to face her in one smooth motion. With a sharp twist of his body, Kuroro swung a kick at her that got her right in the ribs. Kikita screamed in pain, but didn't falter. Instead, a powerful hand clamped around Kuroro's cold, metal wrist, holding him in place as another powerful hand raised the axe above her head.
Metal clang against metal.
Kuroro blinked at the silver blade between Kikita's axe and his raised arm. As if in a dream, his eyes followed the blade to a blonde-haired woman standing next to them and glaring at them with unnaturally blue eyes.
"What on earth are the two of you doing?" the blonde-haired woman asked severely.
Kuroro blinked again, this time in recognition. Immediately, he reverted back to his 'human Midoya' form so he could speak to her. "Midoya," he acknowledged. Then because he noticed that she was upset, he added sweetly, "My dear."
"I have questions regarding… this, Kuroro," Midoya said sternly, "but for now, stand down. You too, Kikita. Don't act like a child; it is extremely unflattering on you."
Kuroro didn't think anything could have caused a berserker to stand down while in that mode, but Kikita did, moving away from Kuroro and putting her weapons back into her belt. Kuroro followed suit, dissolving the Dome so he returned back to his normal form.
"Hey, Midoya," Kikita said, sounding only just the slightest bit sheepish. "What's up?"
"What's up?" Midoya demanded, crossing her arms and giving the both of them a look of utter disapproval. "Why are you fighting in front of a sleazy roadside motel with my lover? As a matter of fact, what are the two of you doing at a sleazy roadside motel so late at night? And why do you have so many hickeys along your throat, Kuroro? I sense a long and troubling story behind this, and I am not sure I will be happy to hear it. At least tell me now if it will result in me doing something terrible to the both of you."
That was more scolding from her than Kuroro had received in all the years they had been together. Midoya wasn't the type to scold or nag after all, so if she did, it meant she was genuinely angry with them. "I apologise, Midoya," Kuroro said, smiling charmingly, "do forgive me. There were… circumstances."
"Like what?" Midoya demanded, demonstrating a regrettable immunity to his charm.
"Like a dead prostitute in Kuroro's car," Kikita pointed out with an accusing glare at Kuroro, and explained to Midoya what had happened. Since her explanation didn't cover the events that happened while she wasn't around and thus didn't explain the hickeys on his throat, Kuroro too gave his version of what had happened after she was done.
By the time he was done, Midoya had stopped frowning and was beginning to smile. "You seduced and killed Decimal? Well done, Kuroro. I wish I had been around to see that."
"Yes, and he was the one who killed the prostitute, not me," Kuroro emphasised, giving Kikita a pointed look. She gave him a nasty grin in return and a very rude gesture. Perhaps stupidity did not run in the genes, but a distinct lack of manners evidently did.
"Oh, don't worry about it," Midoya said, waving a dismissive hand. "Kikita wasn't serious about her accusations. She was only testing you in that fight. If she had been serious, you would be injured a lot more severely than you are at the moment."
"Really?" Kuroro arched an eyebrow at the taller woman.
"Absolutely," Kikita replied, smiling just a little too smugly and Kuroro was determined to stand straight and walk with his head held high despite the horrible pounding in his head.
"Whatever the case may be, I still have a dead body and a car to get rid of," Kuroro pointed out. He looked around at the two women looking back at him. "Any ideas?" he asked hopefully.
After some discussion, during which the highly criminal minds of Kuroro and Midoya were put to the test, they decided that it was safe to simply leave the corpse with the car. After all, as Midoya put it, "Everyone knows Decimal has a thing for killing prostitutes. It wouldn't be too huge a surprise if they find a dead one in his car. In fact, one can almost assume, if one came across a car like this, that Decimal deliberately ditched it in order to hide the body. No?"
It wasn't the perfect plan, but it would have to do. It wasn't like they had to buy themselves plenty of time. The ball was in ten hours or so, thus the car had to remain undiscovered only for that period of time.
"Do you think we can just park it somewhere in town?" Kikita asked. "How bad can a corpse smell in just ten hours?"
"Very bad," Kuroro and Midoya replied at the same time.
"Right," Kikita muttered. "How on earth do you know that?"
"I live in Meteor City."
"I once kept my dear ex-boyfriend's corpse in the basement of my mansion for a week because I missed him. I probably should have considered the consequences of killing him, but I caught him having sex with one of my maids who had an unfortunate case of a particularly nasty sexually-transmitted disease. I was lucky not to acquire it as well."
"Ah, I see now why you always insist I wear a condom. It is hardly surprising after the trauma of an unfaithful boyfriend with a penchant for having sex with infected partners."
"Oh god, too much information." Kikita gave them a glare that made Midoya smile. "But back on topic: we can't leave the car in town. Where then?"
"It's your town," Kuroro replied with a shrug. "I'm sure you know the best places to hide a corpse."
"We are not all criminals, you know?"
"Yes, but you do have a place in mind."
Kikita shot him a glare and wordlessly climbed into the driver's seat. "See you guys back at your hotel later," she growled, as friendly as a rudely-awakened bear, and drove off.
"Charming, that Kikita," Kuroro commented wryly. "I hope she doesn't pull a stunt like this during the actual mission."
Midoya laughed. "Don't worry, dear, she's a professional. She's probably just curious about you."
"Why would she be curious about me?" Kuroro asked, bemused.
"Have you not noticed?" Midoya smiled cheekily at him. "You have that whole mysterious, other-worldly thing going on; like your name. A fallen angel." She tilted her head and regarded him, the same gesture Kikita had done earlier. "Kuroro, why do you think Lucifer fell?" she asked.
"I personally think he didn't fall. I think he jumped," Kuroro replied easily, since that was a topic he had put much thought to before, "because he did not want to live by anybody's rules but his own. It is a sentiment I can understand."
"And to do so, you would betray anyone, even the closest person to you?" Midoya asked. Surprised by her seriousness, Kuroro glanced at her, but her face held no judgement, only curiosity.
"Will I betray the closest person to me? It's hard to say now, isn't it?" Kuroro mused. "Betrayal is such a… fluid concept after all and the consequences of it are hard to predict. Arguably, without Hell, Heaven could not exist. Why would anyone strive for Heaven if there is no Hell? In other words, Lucifer's betrayal was necessary for Heaven to exist. Even if he had turned against his Maker, his betrayal ultimately worked in the favour of Heaven, no?"
"I see," Midoya murmured, with a faint, enigmatic smile. "Well then," she continued, smiling more widely, "we should get out of the cold and do some damage control."
"Damage control? Ah, you mean the motel." Kuroro turned and regarded the building thoughtfully. "With how loud Kikita and I were being, it wouldn't be surprising if we attracted some bystander's attention. That would not be good for us; though I was in disguise, Kikita wasn't."
"Yes, my thoughts exactly."
"And how do you propose to remedy that?"
In response, Midoya held up a lighter and a container of petrol she must have liberated from Decimal's car. "Tell me Kuroro," she said, smiling evilly, "how do you feel about arson?"
It was just as well that Kuroro had no particular qualms about burning buildings, what with being responsible for more than a few in his time. Of course, usually, those burning buildings were more an unintended consequence of an attack on some random auction by the Genei Ryodan. Hence he found it rather educational to watch Midoya actually deliberately set fire to a building.
"Is it necessary to douse the corpses with so much fuel?" he asked curiously.
"Oh yes, definitely. It takes a lot of fire to reduce a body to ashes," Midoya confirmed, and Kuroro bowed to her superior knowledge.
After waiting for a few minutes to make sure the building was burning nicely, they returned to the hotel where Midoya dropped onto the bed and indicated she was going to sleep. Since it was an excellent idea to get some rest before a mission, Kuroro lay down next to her with the intention of following her example.
"Why does the bed smell like roses?" Kuroro wondered as he fluffed up his pillow.
Midoya mumbled something inaudible and turned her back to him. Kuroro took that as an indication that she was too tired to talk, so he simply closed his eyes and went to sleep.
When he next woke up, Midoya was curled up next to him, a cookie in one hand as she typed furiously on her laptop. It was remarkable how fast she could type with one hand. That was a skill Kuroro had never acquired.
"What are you doing?" Kuroro asked, turning over so he could rest his chin on her shoulder as he looked at the screen.
"Giving you a new identity," Midoya replied, offering him the remains of her cookie. "The ball is a mafia thing and only big-shot Mafioso should be able to enter it. We need to make you a rich and powerful mafia thug in order to pull it off."
"Ah. So which mafia thug am I?" Kuroro stared as a picture of him in a suit sprang onto the screen. Since he didn't own a suit like that, he had to assume Midoya had just done something remarkably technological to make his picture look like that.
"Enrico Federico," Midoya replied. "First cousin to the CEO of Federico Enterprise."
"Federico?" Kuroro mused as he chewed on the cookie. "Even I have heard of it. That must mean they are a big family in York Shin. If they are well-known then my identity, or lack of, will be easily verifiable."
"Exactly." Midoya beamed at him. "That is why I have hacked into the Federico Enterprise website company list and inserted your alias under a minor department in the website. But…"
"But?"
"But it is not enough." Midoya shrugged. "These Mafioso are more likely to trust one of their own than a website. It's a rather clannish mentality."
"Ah, I see. Working with you is an education, Midoya. I learn so much about the intricacies of mafia life, which I would never have if I always do what I usually do; kill them and take their treasures." Kuroro regarded her ear thoughtfully, it being the only part of her anatomy he could see from the position he was in. "What do you propose we do then?"
"Well," Midoya said as she grabbed her purse and started to rummage through it. "The Federico family is close with a number of other Mafia families in York Shin. If anyone at Basilio's wants to verify your identity, there are a few people he will definitely have to call. We have to get to these people before he does."
"And what will you do to make these people vouch for me?" Kuroro asked curiously.
"Bribe, threaten or seduce them, most likely," Midoya said absently as she abandoned her purse for her luggage, extracting her shoulder from under his chin and leaving Kuroro to flop gracelessly back onto the bed. "Ah! Found it." Smiling, she pulled her phone out of her luggage triumphantly.
"Excellent. So who are you going to bribe, threaten or seduce?"
"Well, one is the Mayor of York Shin's son. The Mayor has very strong connections with the Federico company, and one of his ah… economic ventures with the Federico empire was fronted by his son," she told him. "We're fairly close friends, dear James and I."
Kuroro stared at her. "You are friends with a politician?" he asked in the same tone of voice he used when he once asked her if she was really going to buy that country inhabited by cannibals (it was a long story).
Midoya laughed. "He's not a politician, Kuroro, he plays rugby, not golf." She winked. "Words with more than two syllables in them are too complicated for him and he still thinks one plus one is eleven. But he is good company if I'm looking for brainless conversation or connections that would allow me to expand my economic empire with little increase in taxes."
"Ah." Kuroro smiled faintly. "He must be very fond of you if he helps you like that."
"Yes, I am very good at nodding at the right moments and saying something complimentary about his knowledge of the difference between rainy weather and sunny weather." At Kuroro's look, she added dramatically, "One has rain, one doesn't."
"Such invigorating and stimulating conversation. I see why you are such good friends," Kuroro said dryly.
"Indeed. Dear James will be very easy to persuade. But it's not enough; we need one more person to vouch for you."
"Who do you have in mind?"
"Well," Midoya said thoughtfully, "given that you are illegally impersonating someone from the Federico family, there's really only one person we can turn to."
"And that is?"
"Who else?" Midoya smiled sweetly. "The head of the Federico family of course."
Eugenio Federico, for the last five years, had been the head of the Federico family and CEO of the Federico Company. This followed the strange and bizarre accident that had fatally befell his predecessor, where his father had somehow accidentally gotten caught in a shooting war between two clans entirely unrelated to the Federico family, got shot point-blank twice in the head, somehow fell into a canvas bag weighted down by bowling balls and then got picked up by a freak tornado that flung his body into the York Shin river. The grieving Eugenio Federico had thus been forced to take up the task of holding the Federico family and company together. This was especially since his elder brother, the much-beloved Eric Federico had, in an insane grief upon hearing about the death of their father, committed suicide by mutilating his face, chopping off his own arms and legs, and hanging himself from the ceiling of one of the cells in the Federico dungeons. Amazingly, no one stood up to protest a minor's takeover of the family business. It must be because they had a great deal of trust and faith in him.
Still, at fifteen, that made Eugenio Federico one of the youngest (and thus most vulnerable) heads in the first tier Mafioso circles. Hence, there had been a need to cultivate as many friends and allies as possible not just within the Mafioso circles but outside as well, and as most heads will tell their heirs, there was no better ally to have than the infamous June Kito. With that in mind, Federico had set out to bring Kito over to his side.
To his surprise, it had proven incredibly difficult to gain her trust or even a personal meeting with her. Bribes and threats were used as he deemed fit, all manners of strings were pulled, but to no avail. Even turning up uninvited at her mansion had proven a failure. He had never even caught a glimpse of her, much less spoken to her. Hell, he wasn't even aware if she knew of his existence. That had irked him to no end, and he had decided, in a fit of teenage angst, to get rid of her. He had subsequently tried to drop a piano on a car that, as rumours goes, she was occupying.
That night, he had gotten a call that had somehow bypassed his secretary and gone straight to his private line.
"Hello?" he had mumbled sleepily into the phone.
"Look in the garden," a smooth, female voice had said.
If he had been a little more awake, he might have been alarmed. Disorientated from sleep as he was, he had lumbered to the window and peered out. The sight of his favourite Porsche, sitting in the fountain with a piano on it had jolted him awake. "What the fuck?" he demanded.
"Think of it as a little payback for killing my butler," the female voice had said contemptuously. "Look in the trunk to find your personal secretary and your gardener, or at least the pieces of them. Being squashed by a piano is a messy death."
"Oh my god, you are June Kito," Federico had gasped, so shocked he had been unable to keep the awe out of his voice. "I've been dying to meet you for ages."
"Well, you have successfully gotten my attention," she had said, sounding strangely amused. "How does it make you feel now, little Federico?"
Eugenio Federico stared at the mess in his garden. "Scared," he admitted, surprising himself with his own honesty, "and kind of horny too. Uh… I know I'm not supposed to know what that means, but whatever man. I know how to use the Net." She had started to laugh into the phone and he had found himself grinning in response. "I don't suppose I can meet you, can I?" he asked hopefully.
"Little Federico," she had said, her voice gaining a warmth that made her sound, quite bizarrely, like a totally different person, "I am surprisingly taken by you, but it will take more than dropping a piano on my butler to meet me. Once you do, you would be playing out of your league, and in this league, there is no safe-word."
Something flickered in his eyes and Federico blinked, flinching away from the sudden glare in his eyes. The glare disappeared abruptly and he opened his eyes, only to realise there was a tiny pinpoint of a red dot fixed on his chest. His jaw dropped as he stared blankly at the spot on his chest. "Uh…" he had said dumbly.
"You are young, little Federico, and you still have much to learn. Think of this as a lesson to you from a veteran."
"Uh… what lesson?"
"That's for you to figure out. Goodbye."
The call went off line, the little red dot had snapped off and Federico had found himself oddly disappointed. He almost wished she would continue threatening his life just so he could continue having a conversation with her. It had been a long time since anyone had challenged him openly like that after all. Besides, she had a really nice voice, not exactly melodious but confident and articulate. Still, he comforted himself as he climbed back into bed, all was not lost. There was still the prospect of finally gaining Kito's trust and respect through his own strength!
Five years later, Eugenio Federico still hadn't gained a single iota of success. Sure, he had finally heard her voice, and once, had managed to catch a glimpse of her at some stupid ball, but he had never had a chance to get closer to her. Thus, the moment he picked up the phone and heard her voice on the line, he had gotten up from his seat, ignoring the entire Board of Directors staring at him in shock, and walked straight out of the meeting room.
"How did you get this number? Are you really June Kito?" he demanded, once he was back in his private office.
She laughed that distinctive laugh he remembered so well. "Little Federico, I should be the one asking you that question. Your voice sounds quite different from the last time I heard it. I believe it was the day I dropped a piano on your Porsche."
"Puberty came and went," Eugenio Federico told her with an unexpected surge of pride. "I've actually got hair on my chest now. I have to trim it every other day." He shivered suddenly when he realised what her comment implied: he had never told anyone about the time she called him; she was the real June Kito. "Holy shit, it really is you," he breathed.
"Of course it is me. Why do you always sound so shocked when I call you?"
"Because you never do. I've been trying to meet up with you and you always avoid…" Eugenio's voice trailed off as another thought occurred to him. "Why are you calling me?" he asked, more curious than alarmed.
"What a sudden change in conversation. Must we come to the crux of the matter so quickly? No time for a little chit-chat? Well, no matter. Little Federico, I need a favour from you."
A favour? Oh god, an angel had just popped the mother-load on his lap. And fuck, that was a really gay image. His brain obviously turned homosexual when he was excited. Eugenio's ears pricked up immediately as he started to calculate the hundred different ways he could make use of this. "What sort of favour?" he asked casually, trying to hide how fast his heart was pounding.
"A very small one," June Kito said, and from the tone of her voice, he knew she wasn't fooled. "It wouldn't take much of your time, but I will be very grateful for any assistance you can provide."
"Tell me." God, his throat was dry. What he wouldn't do for an orange soda now.
"Within the next twelve hours, you may discover some Mafioso from Agocchi trying to learn more about your dearest first cousin, Enrico Federico."
"Who?"
"He holds a tiny position in your esteemed company, and is currently, with your permission, looking for ways to further the Federico company in Agocchi."
"Whoa, wait. I have a first cousin called Enrico? And why would I want to go into Agocchi? There's nothing there that isn't in York Shin. Only losers go there."
A deep exhalation of air could be heard across the phone and Eugenio got the sinking feeling that he had somehow disappointed her. "Little Federico, what I mean is, for reasons you need not know of, I have gotten a friend of mine to pose as your imaginary first cousin Enrico. That is his cover story. I want you to back me on it if someone comes asking."
"O… oh." Eugenio flushed with embarrassment, which was quickly followed by anger at his embarrassment. "Y… yeah I knew that."
"Of course you did. Now, can I count on you to back me up?"
Eugenio cleared his throat as he tried to reorganise his thoughts. "Yeah, sure," he said slowly, "but what do I gain from it?"
"The opportunity to take down the Basilio family and take over all their assets."
Eugenio blinked in surprise as he thought about that. Was she serious? Sure, Agocchi Mafioso were just a bunch of limp-dicks, but even he had heard of the Basilio family. They were a pretty big mafia family after all. Was June Kito suggesting… "You serious?" he asked dubiously. "You mean you're moving against the Basilio family?"
"I did not say that. I merely said that by the end of this, the Basilio family estate and coffers will be in your hands, if you play your cards right."
"That's… you can't guarantee I will get that. I can't help you based on returns that I may or may not get."
"Little Federico, let me give you some assurance now." Her voice lost its lazy drawl and became something fierce and confident. "I am June Kito, and I will give you the best chance you will ever get to obtain the Basilio family if you assist me. Now, do we have a deal?"
Eugenio swallowed hard. "Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah, we have a deal."
"Good." June Kito's voice sounded pleased and Eugenio felt his hirsute chest swell with pride. "We are in agreement then, little Federico." Damn, he loved it when she called him that. Oh god, what was wrong with him? Why did he enjoy being referred to as 'little'? In her presence, his brain not only turned gay, but five as well. His brain was now officially a five year old homosexual. Fuck.
"Great," Eugenio mumbled. "Is that all?"
"Yes, that is all. I do apologise profusely for interrupting your board meeting. I'll let you get back to it."
This time, Eugenio didn't even bother being shocked that she had known what he was doing when she called. This was June Kito; she was practically omniscient. "Yeah, well, not a problem. Those pricks were boring the fuck out of me anyway."
That got a genuine laugh out of her. "Preach it, child. I shall never understand why all competent employees have to be so boring." Okay, now he couldn't decide which he liked being called more: 'little Federico' or 'child'. He was leaning towards the former; it had a more personal touch to it. Well, damn, he was how a five year old homosexual with a mummy-complex. Fuck.
"Yeah." Eugenio grinned at nothing in particular. "So uh, when do I get to meet you?"
"Hmm. Let me see. If you do successfully take over Basilio's estate, we can meet for tea."
Tea. "Is that euphemism for sex?" Eugenio asked hopefully then blanched. Fuck, he was now a five year old homosexual with a mummy-complex who wanted to screw his own... Oh fuck the images. He needed to get off the phone before he lost it completely.
She laughed again. "I'll see you if I see you, little Federico. Goodbye."
The phone went dead in his hands but Eugenio Federico could hardly care. Finally, after five years, he was starting to gain the right to be in June Kito's presence. If he played his cards right, he would be sipping some Earl Grey with her. Sure, she had put some obstacles in his way, but that was to be expected. She was the holy grail of the motherfucking allies to have after all. Besides, it wouldn't be that tough. Taking over some loser Agocchi mafia dude was going to be a walk in the park. He could probably do it in his sleep. In fact, there was only one thing left he had to think about:
What the fuck should he wear to tea with June Kito?
"I'll see you if I see you, little Federico. Goodbye." Hanging up, Midoya plopped down next to Kuroro and let her phone drop carelessly onto the bed. Arching her back luxuriously, she sighed with pleasure. "Done," she murmured.
"I assume your negotiation was a success," Kuroro noted as she smiled lazily up at him.
"Yes, as much as is possible," Midoya replied, squirming closer so she could curl up in his arms. "I'll give you a file on your new identity after."
"After what?" Kuroro asked as she moved from settling beside him to settling on top of him.
"After awesome morning sex," she murmured, starting to nibble his ear.
"An excellent idea," Kuroro agreed, pulling her closer.
As Kuroro started to pull her clothes off, Midoya looked around suddenly as if a thought had just struck her. "Kuroro, didn't Kikita say she will meet us back at the hotel?" she asked.
"Yes she did," Kuroro replied absently, trying to figure out if he wanted her partially undressed or fully undressed. There was always something intriguing about a partially clothed body that revealed as much as it concealed, but when things started getting rough, clothing just got in the way so much…
"Then Kuroro… Kuroro!" Midoya grabbed his ears and pulled mercilessly, forcing him to look up from her breasts to her eyes instead. "Where is she?"
A/N: Since someone asked, I might as well put it out here: Agocchi is an anagram of Chicago, but it is not based on Chicago. It is a totally fictional setting I invented for this story. That would explain why it doesn't really resemble the real Chicago. Like I said, I've never even been there, so I have no idea what Chicago even looks like.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter, my dear readers. Remember to leave a review before you go!
Trivial: Persuading Midoya not to buy a country inhabited by cannibals was not the most insane thing Kuroro had to talk her out of doing. Other common phrases Kuroro found himself using around Midoya included, "Don't pet that baby dragon nestled next to its forty-feet, fire-breathing, easily agitated mother" and "Are you sure that between fighting thirty terrorists and jumping off a blimp at twenty thousand feet, jumping off is the best plan?" Even more common are the phrases, "You can't go down York Shin roads during peak hour at two hundred miles per… please watch out for the woman crossing the road with a pram" and "I don't think you should push that button, Mi… oh look what you have done."
However, if questioned, both Midoya and Kuroro would agree that the real classic phrase Midoya most often heard Kuroro tell her was, "I am not comfortable with you doing that to me during sex… oh. Okay, I change my mind."