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.
Armando Basilio
There was a persistent itch at her knee, just at that spot behind the knee cap.
Tiny, pudgy arms strained at the canvas wrapped around her, forcing her arms close to her chest. No matter how much she pulled and tugged, no matter how hard she struggled, she couldn't free her arms from the confines of the straitjacket.
There was a persistent itch at her knee.
A sob rose at the back of her throat, but she swallowed it back. No more tears, she had promised herself, no more tears and no more weaknesses. There was still hope. There must still be hope. Maybe if she tried twisting around like that…
There was a persistent itch at her knee.
Or maybe if she tried…
The itch grew unbearable.
In the darkness of the room, the child screamed and screamed until blood poured out of her throat.
From a distance, the Basilio mansion resembled nothing more than a massive pile of glowing granite vomit. The uneven, somewhat round building sat on a slightly elevated hill with no other houses within three miles of it. There had to be a million and one rooms in the building for as far as Kuroro could see, for the building seemed to be lit up like a disco ball. When he eventually got closer, he was dismayed to discover that he hadn't been wrong: the entire front of the mansion was covered with glowing, sparkling disco balls.
"Mid… I mean Misha, what is this monstrosity that had befell this world?" he protested. "This cannot be right."
"Unfortunately, it is," Midoya replied wryly.
"I told you Armando Basilio is like the most tasteless man ever," Kikita, the chauffer, growled. "Those aren't even proper 1970s disco balls."
Kuroro eyed the back of her head thoughtfully. Though Kikita was supposed to be their chauffer, she was, in his opinion, dressed nothing like one. The white skirt she was wearing was much too short, the dress shirt she wore was much too tight, and the sailor hat she wore on her head seemed too much like a costume. "Why is my chauffer dressed like this? She looks cold." he asked.
"Because you are a pervert and want to be able to ogle her breasts when she opens the door for you, dear," Midoya replied as if it should have been obvious. "All you mafia bosses are like that."
"Always coping a feel whenever you can," Kikita agreed with a mock sigh. "Man, I fucking hate working for you thugs. If I had gone to school and gotten a proper education, I wouldn't have needed to sell my body to earn a living, like Misha there. Damn, the fucking regrets and all that shit."
"Ah," Kuroro said, greatly enlightened and, just for verisimilitude, groped Midoya a little. She giggled and slapped his hand away with a weak, fluttering motion.
"Oh you, Mr Federico," she tittered and Kuroro backed away till he couldn't back away any further.
"You are entirely too good at this," he said accusingly and she laughed a much more Midoya-like laugh.
The limousine screeched abruptly to a stop. "Okay, we are here," Kikita said sternly. "Get the fuck out and stop flirting in my car. I hate cleaning up body fluids from the leather."
"Pepeka is always so much more understanding when I have backseat sex with Kuroro," Midoya sighed.
"Midoya!"
"No idea who that is," Midoya chirped cheerfully and Kikita growled at her before getting out of the car and opening the car door for them.
"Sir, Miss," she said in a voice that was barely servile enough for the role she was playing.
Right. Time for role-playing. Kuroro climbed out of the car, remembered to ogle Kikita's breasts with an appropriate leer then waited with an air of mild impatience for Midoya to join him. When she did, she wrapped her arms around his and leaned against him as if she were already drunk. Trying not to stagger under her weight or step on her train, Kuroro strode towards the entrance where a handsome man in a uniform smiled brightly at him.
"Good evening," the man said, bowing slightly. "Your name and invite, sir?"
"Enrico Federico and my date," Kuroro said haughtily, as if he expected his name to be instantly recognised. Carelessly, he tossed the invite at the man and strode in without being invited. The man blinked and opened his mouth to protest, but evidently thought better of it. Instead, he glanced at the invite, confirmed its validity and simply let Kuroro walk through. Ah, it seemed an arrogant attitude brought a certain amount of leeway in these events. Always good to know.
Kuroro barely took two steps before another uniformed man, as handsome as the previous one, stopped him. "Sir, if you have any weapons, please leave them here," the man said, and though he sounded polite, his tone also indicated he would not be as easily pushed over as the previous man.
Kuroro gave him an even look, long enough to make the point that he was not taking orders from some mere plebeian, and drew the gun Midoya had given him in the car out of his pocket. "If it goes missing, I will have your head on a spike," he said, imitating Kikita's scowl.
"Of course, sir," the man replied, unflustered. He obviously had some sort of training before. Probably ex-military. "Madam?"
Midoya turned her blank smile on him. "I don't carry weapons," she said, and somehow produced a pretty blush (Midoya almost never blushed; she was too shameless for that), "I don't know one end of a gun from the other, and wouldn't want to anyway. They're so loud and scary."
Midoya, Kuroro mused, as he watched the ex-military guard smile genuinely and tell her guns didn't suit sweet little dames like her anyway, was a really, really excellent liar.
"May I take a look at your purse, Miss?" the guard asked, still smiling disarmingly.
"Oh… oh, of course," Midoya said shyly, passing her purse over.
"Thank you, Mi… oh fuck." The guard looked horrified as a box of tampons fell out of the purse.
Midoya's hands flew to her mouth in an expression of pure embarrassment. "Oh!" she exclaimed and looked so dismayed even Kuroro, who knew she was only acting, felt like putting his arm around her.
"I'm so sorry," the guard said, obviously flustered as he put the box back in and passed the purse to her. "So very sorry."
"No, no, I'm sorry," Midoya whispered, taking back the purse.
"No, I am the one who should be…"
Kuroro cleared his throat loudly. "Can we go in now?" he demanded with contrived irritation.
The guard blinked and turned even redder than he already was. "Of course, of course. This way then, Sir, Madam," the man said, ushering them through a metal detector. They passed through easily, and Kuroro wondered just where Midoya was hiding the bombs she had been making.
"And welcome to the Basilio mansion," Midoya murmured, her head leaning against his shoulder casually, her embarrassed little girl act dropped the moment the guard was out of sight.
Pausing, Kuroro took the chance to look around the giant space they had stepped into. Once, the foyer they were standing in had been a grand example of Baroque architecture. The twin stairs swooping up were beautiful, intricate pieces of art carved out from marble. The walls were lined with elaborate golden carvings laid into the same white marble of the stairs. The gorgeous domed ceiling was covered entirely with lovely paintings of angels, wings spread, tunics flying, as they swooped around the bright blue sky of the ceiling.
However, at some point recently, someone had plopped a large, buffet table made of plain steel and lined with gold tinsel in the middle of the foyer. A giant disco ball covered the ceiling, cutting off the head of an angel and the torso of another. Techno music blared out from black speakers hanging between the golden carvings on the walls.
"Oh the horror," Kuroro whispered, cringing at the devastation done to the well-preserved architecture.
"You should wait till you see what Armando Basilio has done to the inner rooms," Midoya whispered back. "At least the destruction here is reversible."
Kuroro shuddered at that and spent a couple of seconds imagining the horrible things he would do to Armando Basilio once they caught him. Eventually, Midoya's tugging on his arm reminded him that he had a job to do, so he followed her as she subtly manoeuvred him around the edges of the foyer.
"What are we doing now?" Kuroro asked as Midoya handed him a flute of champagne.
"Mingling," Midoya replied softly. "It would be too suspicious if we didn't mingle a little. These balls are not just for showing off, they are also networking opportunities and…" They broke through the crowd suddenly to find the centre the foyer occupied entirely by naked people of various genders rolling about in a mud pit, "places for free, dubious entertainment," Midoya finished with a polite little cough.
"I see," Kuroro agreed. "I do understand why rolling in mud is a rather dubious form of entertainment. Is seems more like something boars would like. Is it truly as appealing for humans?"
"I'm sure I have something like that in at least one of my brothels. You can check it out there."
"Do I have to pay? Why do you have a mud pit in your brothel? Do you own a lot of pigs? Can we have pork chops for dinner then? Can I not pay?"
Midoya gave him an amused and exasperated look and dragged him away from watching the poor, naked people rub mud on their bodies. To chase away flies and prevent sunburn, he assumed. At least, that's what rhinoceros and elephants use mud for. It seemed rather hard to get sunburn in the evening and under a concrete roof though.
Just as he was busy wondering whether there had been any new studies about the impact of UV rays through concrete buildings, a hand reached out and touched his elbow. "Bonsoir, monsieur," a smoky, exotic, heavily-accented voice said from behind him. "What a lovely tie you are wearing tonight."
Taking his time, Kuroro turned around to look blandly at the speaker behind him. A beautiful woman, tall and regal, greeted him with a ruby-red smile. A mass of blonde hair was piled into a simple, chic bun. A slender, toned body fit into an elegant emerald green full-length sheath dress. Twinkly, expensive-looking jewellery sparkled subtly at her ears and neck, and almost drove Kuroro insane with the need to rob her blind. "Good evening," Kuroro said, bowing over an offered gloved hand (just managing to stop himself from slipping her diamond ring off her finger). "I thank you for the compliment, beautiful lady. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"
"Clemence Priduex," the woman replied, smiling at him. "Head of the House of Priduex, York Shin."
"Enrico Federico," Kuroro replied, aware of Midoya discreetly stepping behind him and out of sight, "First Cousin to the Head of the House of Federico, York Shin."
"Ah, a cousin of dear Eugenio," Priduex said, bright green eyes eyeing him carefully. "I have had the pleasure of meeting your esteemed cousin. He looked so much like his equally esteemed father. I… fail to see your family resemblance to the elder and long-gone Federico, I'm afraid."
Kuroro was about to reply when he felt Midoya tap his back in a series of patterns. She is suggesting you are illegitimate. Insult. Ah, the ever so trustworthy Morse code; much easier to understand than the codes of social etiquette in these scenes. "My father," Kuroro replied stiffly, "resembled his mother more, while Eugenio's father resembles our grandfather. I assure you though, that the same Federico traits run in our genes." He smiled coldly. "Ruthlessness, good-looks and the mysterious ability to make a lot of money."
Priduex barely batted a heavily-mascaraed lash. "Du calme, du calme, Monsier Federico. I meant no harm. Forgive me if I ah… spoke out of turn," she purred, sounding quite unrepentant. "So, what brings you to Agocchi, Monsieur Federico?"
"A business venture," Kuroro told her, now drawing heavily from the material Midoya had given to him. "You might recall that my cousin, dear Eugenio, has recently bought over the… pharmaceutical trade in East York Shin." Translation: Eugenio Federico had killed the drug lords of East York Shin in open street warfare and had taken over their businesses.
"I have heard of that," Priduex murmured, inclining her head gracefully. "My congratulations to les braves Eugenio."
"I thank you on his behalf," Kuroro answered. "Though I must confess, dear Eugenio has gotten bored so quickly after the conquest of East York Shin that he is raring to have a go at another market." He smiled mysteriously. "I've heard that the pharmaceutical industry in Agocchi is very… profitable and Eugenio would like me to confirm that."
"Ah." Her smile took on a slightly feral quality. "Is this going to be a… how should we say this… soft intervention or a hard intervention?"
Soft. "Soft," Kuroro repeated obediently and had absolutely no idea what that meant.
"Intéressant," she purred, sipping her champagne. Then to Kuroro's bemusement, she turned to her right and murmured, "Mon amour, you were right. This man is absolutely fascinating. I shall always wonder how you can tell just by looking at people."
A chill ran down Kuroro's spine as he felt someone release Zetsu and step up to him. A familiar Nen caressed his skin, as sickly sweet as candy, and as salty as blood.
"I can always tell, my dearest," an equally familiar and equally sickening voice purred, "the interesting ones always give off… a vibe."
Kuroro felt Midoya tense up from behind him as a tall, pale man stepped up to them. Broad shoulders, thin waist, expensive suit and bright crimson hair flopping over killer cheekbones. And that awful, awful Nen flooding over them like chocolate drenched in blood.
Hisoka.
The car speeding along the night roads of Agocchi had, by the time it ran the tenth red light, caused about three accidents. A quintet of police cars were blazing after it, sirens blaring and lights flashing. The occupants of the car could hardly care less.
"Those cops are lousy drivers," Kalluto commented idly as one of the police cars lost control and ended up crashing into the road shoulder.
"It's because I'm an excellent driver," Machi countered as she stomped on the accelerator, zooming through the traffic jam like a true professional robber.
"Well, we can't deny that," Nobunaga granted grudgingly as another police car crashed and exploded behind them.
Machi nodded with a pleased air and ran her eleventh red light.
"Say Franklin," Phinx said from the front passenger seat. "You think our plan will work?"
Franklin, occupying most of the backseat, shrugged. "It's as good a plan as any," he said. "We need to find Dancho, and since we know Dancho is going after Armando Basilio, if we go to where Armando Basilio is, we have a higher chance of finding Dancho there. The logic is sound. No idea about the implementation of the concept though."
"It's the best we got," Machi agreed coolly. "The best we can come up with."
"This is why we are normally assigned the brute work while Dancho and Shalnark do the thinking," Kalluto murmured softly.
"True." Phinx nodded sagely then blinked with realisation. "Did you just say we're dumb?" he asked accusingly.
"Kalluto," Franklin interrupted before Phinx could get violent, "if we get you close enough to where Dancho is, will you be able to locate him?"
"Yes," Kalluto replied confidently. ("Show off," Phinx muttered.)
"Good," Franklin replied with a solemn nod. "Then there's only one thing left to do."
"Oh yes," Machi agreed, smirking. "Crashing Armando Basilio's ball. I heard they usually have nude waiters there. That sounds fucking interesting if you ask me…"
The pale face, usually painted with odd symbols and shapes, but now normal, even coldly handsome without makeup, smirked at his surprise. Kuroro took a subtle deep breath to keep his Nen stable and smiled back, even as his mind started to race through all the different things that could go wrong.
After the fifty-seventh item, he stopped. Hisoka was here. That meant things were far more dangerous and far less likely to follow the plan in innumerable ways. There was no point fretting about it.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Federico," Hisoka purred, somehow making the greeting sound both like a threat and a very sleazy promise. "My name is Hisoka, escort to the lovely Lady Priduex."
"Pleasure," Kuroro said calmly and even managed to shake Hisoka's hand without shuddering. The last time he had touched those hands, they had just made a nice, big hole in his stomach. He had very bad memories of those hands.
"And who is this lovely lady here?" Hisoka asked, eyes glittering maliciously, as he deliberately edged closer to Kuroro so he could look over his shoulder. Of course he had recognised Midoya. Of course he had seen that Midoya was trying not to be recognised. So of course, he would do his best to draw attention to her.
"Misha, introduce yourself," Kuroro ordered evenly.
With the kind of timid grace that would have endeared her to some men, Midoya stepped out from behind him. While hiding behind him, she had pulled more of her blonde fringe down so it covered almost half of her face. "Good evening, Lady Priduex, Mr Hisoka," she murmured with a pretty curtsy. "I am Misha, escort to Mr Federico."
"Oh, what a petit poupée," Priduex said, as if she were complimenting the weather. "So shy, so… mon amour, what is that word I am thinking of… so mignon… ah yes. So cute." She couldn't have sounded more condescending if she had tried.
"Merci beaucoup,Lady Priduex," Midoya murmured and Priduex's red lips made a startled 'o', evidently surprised Midoya knew any French. Kuroro was impressed himself until he remembered that Midoya's education had probably cost more than the small fortune he had amassed for himself over the years, and that her appearance now was a total lie.
"Indeed, what a pretty little doll," Hisoka leered, leaning closer to Midoya. "It is a true pleasure to meet you." Smiling widely, he leaned over her hand and deliberately kissed the top of her hand, slowly, sensually, as if he had rather be sucking her hand than kissing it.
As Hisoka leaned closer to them, Kuroro caught a whiff of the oddly familiar smell of… roses? Where had he smelled that before? The last time he fought Hisoka? No. He had smelt it much more recently. Where…? Before he could set his mind to it, Priduex stepped forward and practically yanked Hisoka back to her side. "Tsk, ma cherie," she scolded, her eyes blazing coldly. "You shouldn't intrude on Mr Federico's property."
"Oui, mon coeur. It is as you said," Hisoka purred, and Kuroro looked away so he wouldn't have to watch the two of them do grossly intimate things in front of them. Was it really necessary to use that much tongue when kissing? Wasn't it unpleasantly wet and intrusive… what on earth were they…? Oh, how revolting.
As he turned to look at Midoya (a much more palatable sight), the lights in the foyer clicked off suddenly. Startled gasps and shouts rose in the darkness before a bright, clear voice assured the crowd that this was part of the event and that they were to stand still till the lights came on again.
"And now," the same voice declared, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome our host for the evening, Mr Armando Basilio."
A spot light clicked on and focused on the second floor balcony overlooking the foyer. A strikingly handsome man stood there, almost model-like in his appearance with his broad shoulders, lean build, piercing green eyes and high cheekbones. Though he differed slightly from the photo Kuroro had seen, Kuroro still recognised him immediately.
Armando Basilio. Their prey.
"Good evening, ladies and gentleman," Armando Basilio said, his voice rich and cultured and very attractive. "I am Armando Basilio, Head of the Basilio Family. To start off, I would like to thank everyone for coming here today. I see so many familiar faces, such as the always boisterous David Hooper, oddly enough, Head of the Claramax family…" Someone laughed "and my beautiful cousin, the lovely Clemence Priduex, Head of the Priduex Family." Kuroro blinked as the woman standing next to him offered a little bow to the man above them. Well, now that he knew, the family resemblance was pretty obvious.
"And of course," the speaker continued, "there are so many new friends here. New… allies." Armando Basilio looked around with the satisfied air of a king surveying his court. "Tonight," he said, "we come together not just to celebrate good food and beautiful people." He nodded chummily at the mud pit and some people laughed. "Tonight, I wish for all of you, my esteemed guests, to bear witness to the greatest moment in the history of the Basilio family."
"Misha," Kuroro said quietly and felt Midoya nod tensely.
"Tonight," Armando Basilio said, "I will reveal to you a new treasure that I have found, a treasure of immense power that will open the York Shin market to the Basilio family." Gasps and cries of disbelief filled the air. "Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I assure you I do not lie." Armando Basilio smiled widely. "I have obtained, as I swore I would, the Infinity Gem."
Midoya tugged Kuroro's sleeve. "Now," she whispered urgently, her voice buried by the hushed whispers around them. "We go now. He wouldn't reveal the Gem till much later. We need to search for it now."
Kuroro nodded as Armando Basilio continued his speech with some grandiose declaration about conquering York Shin. "Alright," he agreed. "Let's go."
"Where?" Hisoka purred in his ear, hot breath tickling his skin, and Kuroro froze.
"Somewhere you are not welcomed, Hisoka," Midoya murmured firmly, and even in the darkness, Kuroro saw the glint of a weapon held to Hisoka's stomach. "Move."
"But this is so much fun," Hisoka whispered, his Nen starting to swell with excitement. "My dear little… Misha. How pretty you look today, how sweet and delicious. But black doesn't suit you. Red does. Beautiful, sweet, wet red." His tongue sneaked out and he deliberately licked her neck.
Midoya didn't blink. She didn't even flinch. She just calmly, firmly put the blade straight through Hisoka's thigh.
Hisoka's jaw dropped in surprise and Kuroro tensed up for a fight. It really wasn't a good idea to attack Hisoka like that. Kuroro knew from experience that he would only get more aroused by the pain and the…
"If you let us pass now without interfering," Midoya murmured, "there will be more where that came from."
For a moment, Kuroro thought he had misheard. Surely, she meant to threaten him, not bribe him with that stab…? But Hisoka thrust his hips forward, digging the blade deeper into his flesh, and moaned, "Oh, you naughty tease. Alright… I hold you to that promise." His moans got louder as Midoya pulled the blade out. "Oh… ohhhh… I want more," he groaned, proving that somehow, Midoya had much clearer insight into Hisoka's mind than Kuroro ever had.
"Later, I will stab you full of holes," Midoya promised and grabbed Kuroro's hand to pull him around Hisoka. Hisoka whimpered with thwarted pleasure but didn't stop them.
"I'll hold you to it," he whispered, feverishly bright eyes glowing at them, and they were past him.
Kuroro kept his eye on Hisoka all the way until they reached a dark corridor. When he was finally certain Hisoka was going to keep his word, he murmured, "Smart girl. I should have thought of that when he was still in the Ryodan. I mean, pretending to be in the Ryodan."
"Don't beat yourself up over it," Midoya replied as she led him further down the corridor, "you don't own a S&M brothel. It's not likely a tactic like that would have occurred to you."
"That is an accurate assessment, and I never beat myself up over things," Kuroro told her.
"Good for you," Midoya smiled. "Stop for a while please."
They paused right before the next turn and Midoya started to strip, pulling off her dress to reveal a much more practical outfit of black tube-top and black tights beneath her dress. Kuroro watched the entire proceeding with great interest.
With a sigh of relief, she kicked off her heels and bounced gently on bare feet. "They will be much more convenient than heels," she told him.
"An excellent turn of events," Kuroro acknowledged. Since she wasn't doing anything particularly interesting anymore, Kuroro took a good look around the corridor they were standing in. Like the foyer, it was decorated mainly in the baroque style, with white walls covered with complex, intricate designs. As if someone had thought the designs and statues were too plain, paintings were placed in strategic intervals along the corridor next to carved statues of naked human beings. Intrigued, Kuroro drew closer to one of the paintings and peered at it.
In the dark, a loud gasp echoed down the corridor.
Midoya jumped a little, obviously startled and looked around. "Kuroro? Was that you?" she questioned, turning to him. "Wh…" The words died off in her lips as she stared at him.
Before her eyes, the great Dancho of the Genei Ryodan pulled a five inch by ten inch painting off the wall, frame and all, eyes glowing blue in the dark as he stroked the frame of the painting reverently.
"Kuroro?" Midoya whispered cautiously, approaching him slowly. "Is that… is that uh… an expensive painting?"
"Better," Kuroro whispered back, his eyes glowing in the dark.
"Better than an expensive painting?"
"Infinitely better."
"What is it?" Midoya asked.
Kuroro felt his lips turn up at the corner in a triumphant smile as he whispered, "It's a Screw-up."
Prodigious Screw had been a master artist born in the nineteenth-century in the rich, renaissance town of Cordiya. Like most young men born in Coridya, he had been extremely influenced by the Arts, specifically Realism art. Hence, from a very young age, he started devoting his time and energy to mastering the art of painting realistically. He learned how to mix the paints, how to wield the brush, how to prime the canvas. He acquired an eye for detail, for light and shadow and for the beauty of the real world. Many an hour was spent sitting in the garden, painting beautiful women or bowls of fruit.
By the time he was fifteen, he was famous, world-renowned as the worst artist in the history of Cordiya.
That his utter inability to paint realistically should have brought him fame was an odd story indeed. It wasn't that he was bad at painting, for he had quite the talent for painting an apple that looked exactly like an apple. The problem was that he was infamous for making crucial mistakes that destroyed the realism of the paintings entirely. In one case, while painting a bowl of fruit, he forgot to paint the bowl, causing the fruit to appear to float, quite unrealistically, over a table. In another, when painting the Duchess of Cordiya, he accidentally drew a black line across her face, making it look like someone had crossed out her face. In yet another, he painted a beautiful picture of a garden, only to spill white paint over it, rendering the canvas blank, as if it had never been painted.
These mistakes, ironically, were what made him famous for they could not be replicated. Yes, it was possible to draw a bunch of fruit floating over a table, but that wouldn't be a mistake: it would be a deliberate drawing of fruit floating over a table. Yes, it was possible to pour white paint over a picture of a garden, but that wouldn't be the same as spilling white paint over a picture of a garden. These works, the well-respected and intelligent art critics realised, were truly unique in their existence.
It was instant fame for Prodigious Screw, as his Screw-ups started to sell at a much faster rate than his Non-Screw-ups. His painting of a cute rabbit with a drop of green on its realistic white fur sold for a hundred zenni, a fortune for his time. His perfect rendition of his dog, Marius, running in the sun had no buyers. People started to pay to watch him paint, so they could, at dining tables, declare proudly, "I was there when Prodigious Screw accidentally painted the Duke of Cordiya with breasts."
However, with age, Prodigious Screw's technique flourished. He got better with handling the brush, and more meticulous when it came to detail. And the better he got at painting, the fewer mistakes he made. By the age of twenty-five, Prodigious Screw hadn't produced a proper Screw-up in a year. Buyers started to forget about him. Art critics labelled him 'so last season'. Marius eloped with a cocker spaniel. Poverty followed shortly after, as his decent realist art got lost in a sea of other decent realist art.
Thus, at age twenty-six, Prodigious Screw took a calming cup of tea in the cellar he called home, and slit his own throat. His suicide note read, "I am nothing if I cannot Screw-up."
The cup of tea, now accidentally splashed with arterial spray, sold for three hundred zennis in the art market, and was proclaimed his best work ever.
"It's a blank canvas," Midoya said slowly. "Kuroro, you are holding a blank canvas."
"It's an irreplaceable Screw-up," Kuroro corrected. "The only one of its kind in the world."
"A Screw-up? You must mean Prodigious Screw," Midoya repeated, her eyebrow raised. "I never knew you were a fan."
"The worst artist in the history of Cordiya? How could I not be a fan?"
"And you critique my taste in music," Midoya snorted.
Kuroro chuckled as he admired the painting. "It's wonderful," he told her, as they continued down the corridor, "a testimony to the utterly pathetic, painfully bumbling nature of human beings. I cannot help but adore it – until I eventually get bored with it and sell it, of course. But for now, this is a lovely addition to my little store of stolen goods."
"You are obsessive," Midoya commented fondly.
"And you're blonde," Kuroro replied, which Midoya solved by pulling off her wig. Her natural hair exploded out of the wig in a puff of frizzy, messy curls. She raised her eyebrow at him and he inclined his head in recognition of her point.
"Let's go," Midoya said, smiling at him. "Put your precious Screw-up somewhere safe. We're going to break into the Basilio vault."
"In a moment. I wish to admire it more," Kuroro told her. He did have a tendency to get quite touchy-feely with newly acquired stolen goods. Besides, he thought, it was small enough to fit under his blazer if he needed to free his hands in a hurry. Ah, pint-sized art; he had much to thank Prodigious for, other than his wonderful Screw-ups.
"Have it your way," Midoya sighed. "Come on. The vault is in Basilio's bedroom. The Gem will be there."
"Lead on," Kuroro said happily and followed behind her as she led them through the halls of the Basilio mansion.
The mansion was in full swing by the time the Ryodan members arrived at the ball. Music was thumping loudly, bright strobe lights blazed through the air, well-dressed people were dancing and drinking, and many naked people were walking around doing serving drinks.
"Tasteless and crude," Nobunaga commented, as the Ryodan members perched on the outer walls of the mansion and stared at the mass of people doing borderline illegal things to each other.
"Yeah, but Meteor City can do much worse," Phinx said defensively.
"But of course," Nobunaga replied with great patriotism. "We're the best when it comes to being tasteless and crude."
"I don't know," Kalluto mused from behind them. "Dancho doesn't strike me as being tasteless and crude."
"Of course he's not," Nobunaga interrupted, looking stricken, "if Meteor City is the biggest fucking cess pit in the world, Dancho is the lone lotus flower that bloomed from all the shit. He is way above all the crud that Meteor City is, even if he never forgets his roots."
"I don't know, Nobunaga. I don't think Dancho will like being compared to a pansy flower," Phinx said dubiously.
"Or," Machi added thoughtfully, "he will like it so much he will write a fifty thousand word treatise on the connection between flowers, shit and the history of philosophy in the Eastern hemisphere of the world. And then he will spend the next two years talking about nothing but that."
"Oh yeah" Phinx groaned, remembering with no great fondness the last time Dancho had gotten inspired to write a treatise. It had been a bad year, that year, a very bad year.
Franklin cleared his throat meaningfully. "All this is very interesting," he said blandly, "but we still need to find Dancho."
"Right." Phinx nodded. "Okay, Kalluto. You're up."
"Okay." From a sleeve, Kalluto pulled out a piece of paper. He then stopped and glared at them. "Look away."
Phinx blinked. "What?" he demanded.
Kalluto eyed him over the piece of paper. "Look away," he repeated, "it's not polite to stare when a lady is doing something private."
Phinx's jaw dropped and he started to splutter, but Franklin put a heavy hand on his shoulder and turned him around. "Good enough?"
"Everybody turns around," Kalluto said emphatically. "My goodness, it is so hard working with men. They always think they have a right to stare just because you are wearing a kimono."
"I'm not a man," Machi protested.
"Prove it," Kalluto sniffed.
Now Machi eyebrow had gone up and Nobunaga was growling angrily, so Franklin physically turned them around as well. "Alright now?" he rumbled, putting a hand on Nobunaga to restrain him from zipping towards Kalluto. "Remember the mission," he said quietly, and Nobunaga stilled, though his aura shimmered with irritation.
"Yes." Kalluto nodded, eyes glittering with impish delight. "Now, no peeking, or I'll tell Dancho you tried to touch my breasts."
"You don't have any breasts…" Nobunaga muttered and Franklin patted him sympathetically on his shoulder.
As the four Spiders stared with varying degrees of grumpiness into space, Kalluto's Nen swelled gently behind them. Tiny voices, vaguely familiar, started to squeak from behind.
"Is that Dancho's voice?" Nobunaga wondered.
"I said no peeking," Kalluto snapped sharply.
"I wasn't!" Nobunaga protested. "I can hear what you're doing."
"Then cover your ears," Kalluto ordered brusquely.
"I fucking hate you," Nobunaga growled. Grumbling and threatening violence, the four Spiders clamped their hands over their ears and stared moodily into the darkness.
After a while, Kalluto's Nen settled back to its usual level and he tapped Franklin on his arm. "I'm done," he said as the Spiders turned around.
"What'd you got?" Phinx growled menacingly.
"Dancho is in the mansion heading towards the Basilio vault," Kalluto reported, somehow looking down his nose at Phinx. "Kito is with him. They think the Infinity Gem is in the vault."
"Alright then," Machi said impatiently. "Let's go."
And a calm, female voice said, "I don't think so."
The reaction among the Ryodan was instantaneous. Like startled cats, they immediately darted to the nearest open space, Nen swelling in preparation for battle.
A woman stood before them, tall, blonde, athletic, and gorgeous as hell. She was also wearing a super short white skirt, a too-tight white dress top, a sailor's hat and a massive claymore.
"That is an image out of a RPG fan's wet dream. If Shalnark were here, he would have a geek-gasm," Machi commented bluntly as the five of them fanned out, watching the woman carefully.
"How disgusting," Kalluto murmured, fan pressed against his lips.
"Who are you?" Franklin asked, ignoring the banter.
The woman smirked at them, leaning casually on one hip, the massive claymore slung carelessly over her shoulder. "Kikita Timbal, Poacher Hunter," she replied easily.
"Timbal? Like Pepeka Timbal?" Nobunaga exclaimed, astonished.
"His older sister," the woman acknowledged, swinging the claymore easily with one hand. "And the five of you are Ryodan members."
"So what?" Phinx demanded, fists clenching and unclenching in anticipation. "You got something against the Ryodan?"
Full, pink lips pursed in thought. "Hardly," she said with a shrug. "I'm just doing Midoya a favour."
At that, the Ryodan members tensed up even more. "And what favour would that be?" Phinx snarled. "What's Kito planning. Talk, woman."
Kikita Timbal chuckled softly though her eyes were fierce and wild. "I've always hated Neanderthals," she sighed. "Fucking humans that got stuck during the evolution between apes and proper humans. Never know why some women go for shit-faces like that. It ain't right when humans and beasts get down and dirty together." Her grin widened as Phinx's Nen started to flare with rage. "Midoya thinks you guys already know what she's up to," she said, still grinning widely. "Midoya is pretty fucking smart, so I'm going to take a stab in the dark and guess you guys already know she's up to no good – at least no good for you and your Dancho."
Though they had expected it, the confirmation still startled them. Franklin could feel it in the Nen shimmering around him. So could the woman, evidently, because she raised an eyebrow and added, "So you didn't know at all? Well, fuck my brains out, it's rare Midoya gets stuff wrong like that."
"Not entirely," Franklin rumbled. "We have a pretty good idea of what she's really doing here, but that's not important. Our Dancho is important. We want to know what she has planned for him."
"Ah, but see, that's the problem." The woman beamed. "I can't tell you what she has planned, but I do know it wouldn't be a good idea for us if you guys meet up with Kuroro now. He still doesn't know shit is going down, and it's best if things are kept that way. What's that thing Midoya always says? Ignorance is the shortest path to eternal rest at the bottom of a very deep lake or some philosophical shit like that."
Now the Nen swirling around the Ryodan members was hot with rage. "Are you threatening us?" Nobunaga growled. "Are you threatening Dancho?"
"Nope!" the woman replied cheerfully. "Just saying things like I see them."
"Fuck you, bitch!" Nobunaga roared. "You guys go ahead! I'll take care of this bitch."
"Got it," Machi acknowledged and the four of them leapt forward, aiming to run past their enemy before she could react.
At the last moment, just before they were past Kikita Timbal, she swept the claymore in a powerful, massive arc. Phinx and Machi leapt over the swing while Kalluto dived under. Franklin, barely out of range, pounded past, his sleeve torn and arm bleeding. And even though they were past her, her Nen, blazing and hot, chased them through the gardens and exploded over part of the mansion. The mafia thugs at the ball started to scream and panic. A portion of the mansion wall disintegrated.
Nobunaga stared. Nobunaga blinked. Nobunaga went 'wow' in his head.
"Fuck me, they got through," she muttered. "You got that? Four of them got through. They're heading towards the East Wing of the mansion." Something buzzed in the silence and she nodded briskly. "Alright then," she said, grinning at Nobunaga. "It's you and me baby."
Nobunaga cleared his throat. "Um. Just one question… Miss."
A delicate eyebrow went up. "What?" she demanded.
"Uh…" Nobunaga coughed again. "Are you Reinforcement?"
Kikita Timbal stared even harder. "What of it?" she finally asked. "You're Reinforcement too, aren't you? You got a problem with that?"
"Oh, nothing," Nobunaga mumbled.
But even as he drew his sword and faced Kikita Timbal, he fell madly, deeply in love with her.
When the explosion came, Kuroro was in the Basilio vault, bent almost in half over a box within the vault, holding a huge flashlight Midoya had produced from nowhere while Midoya she at the lock with a series of thin, skeletal lock-picks.
As it turned out, travelling through the Basilio mansion had gone incredibly well. Most of the security detail had been at the ball itself and in the vault. It had astounded Kuroro when, after walking through empty corridors for almost half an hour, they had walked into Basilio's bedroom to find the vault open and filled with guards. It seemed Basilio had thought that the guards were a sufficient deterrent and it was unnecessary to lock the vault.
Oh, the grand, bumbling idiocy of humanity, Kuroro had sighed, as he gave Prodigious Screw's masterpiece one last loving stroke and slid it into his blazer pocket before dodging the variety of bullets fired at him.
Fifteen minutes later, they had wiped out the rest of Basilio's mercenaries and all the guards he had posted in the vault. Then they were in.
Immediately, Kuroro had put a hand on Midoya's shoulder to steady himself as he stared at the massive room full of beautiful, beautiful treasures.
"Midoya, I feel the pressing need to rob this place clean," Kuroro had told Midoya as he admired a lovely sculpture that was probably close to a thousand year old.
"Later, dear," Midoya had replied. "Help me find the Infinity Gem."
"Alright," Kuroro agreed, since Midoya was much better at prioritising than he was, when surrounded by stolen goods.
However, in the end, she hadn't needed his help. The Infinity Gem turned out to be sitting in a locked glass box conveniently labelled 'Infinity Gem'. In fact, it was in such a conspicuous place, even the ever-meticulous Midoya had looked over it three times before they spotted it.
"Is that it?" Kuroro had asked dubiously.
"Yes," Midoya confirmed.
"Oh. It's smaller than it looks in the photograph you showed me."
"That's what she said," Midoya told him with the saddest look on her face.
"So how do we get it out?" Kuroro asked, ignoring her mock puppy eyes.
"Ah. That's the question."
It turned out, after some careful examination, that the glass box the gem was in was made of Nen-resistant, very tough material that wasn't actually glass but did resemble it to a startling degree. There was no way they could smash through the box, so they had to rely on the good old-fashion way of picking the lock on the box. That was how Kuroro ended up holding the flashlight for Midoya as she fiddled patiently with the complicated lock system on the glass box. In a very short amount of time, Kuroro discovered that holding a flashlight while someone else picks a lock is an extremely boring activity. So he had taken to staring at the Infinity Gem that sat within the glass box.
Truth be told, despite the size of it, Kuroro thought that the gem was a very lovely one. Cut into a perfect oval, the diameter of which was barely half an inch, the Gem was obviously a masterpiece of artistry. It was, furthermore, set in an elaborate silver necklace encrusted with tiny diamonds that sparkled hypnotically under the flashlight. All in all, it made for a very extravagant and very beautiful piece of jewellery.
Kuroro tilted the flashlight back and forth, and watched the sapphire change from blue to purple to red. Three colours, just as Midoya had said. It really was a very beautiful gem. It would look good in the personal collection of trinkets he had collected over the years.
"Stop fidgeting," Midoya scolded and Kuroro stopped moving.
"Are you close?" he asked instead.
"Just a bit more," Midoya murmured, "and if you start saying 'Are you done yet', I will bite you."
Kuroro made a disapproving sound and said, "Don't learn from Hisoka; he is a horrible role model", but stopped after tha because the moment he finished his comment, an explosion rocked the entire mansion, sending tremors throughout the entire building.
Startled, Midoya looked up and Kuroro joined her. "That was…" Midoya began hesitantly, and he saw her eyes narrow the way they did when she had noticed something she didn't like.
"That was Kikita, was it not?" Kuroro asked. "I recognised her Nen. What is she doing?"
"No matter," Midoya replied tensely. "Let's get the Infinity Gem first."
"Well, don't say I didn't warn you she would be trouble," Kuroro told her as Midoya started to work even faster at the locks, nimble fingers manipulating the delicate instruments with great skill.
Footsteps resounded down the corridor, and Kuroro looked over his shoulder. The Nen coming his way was unfamiliar. "Visitors," he noted. "I'm going to…"
"Hold the flashlight properly," Midoya said sternly and Kuroro looked at her in surprise.
"Midoya? Are you… are you actually… anxious?" he asked hesitantly.
"Yes," Midoya replied edgily.
The footsteps came closer and Kuroro frowned over his shoulder at the door. Switching the flashlight to his left hand, he drew out his Benz knife in preparation for a fight. "You should hurry," he told her calmly.
"Almost there," Midoya muttered under her breath.
The footsteps were right at the door now. "Guards!" a familiar voice shouted and Armando Basilio appeared at the entrance of the vault, perspiring heavily. "Guards! Is the… who are you?"
"Hello," Kuroro greeted pleasantly. Rather unusually, Midoya ignored the newcomer.
"What the fuck!" Armando Basilio cursed. "Get out of my vault!"
"Or what?" Kuroro asked conversationally.
"Or I will kill you," Armando Basilio snarled just as something clicked.
"Got it," Midoya said, opening the box and taking the necklace out.
Armando Basilio's handsome face turned a brilliant red. "Put that down you…!" his voice died off as Midoya turned to face him and his eyes widened as his face took on an expression of pure disbelief and surprise.
"Hello," Midoya said calmly.
"What the fuck?" Basilio demanded. "Aunt Kito? What are you doing here?"
Aunt Kito? Now it was Kuroro's turn to stare at Midoya. "M… June?" he asked, having just enough presence of mind to realise Midoya wouldn't want him to use her Hunter name here.
Midoya beamed pleasantly. "Kuroro darling, meet Armando Basilio. He's my nephew. Or cousin. Or great-grand cousin twice removed. He might also be my brother-in-law, but I am not too sure about that because his wife may or may not actually be my half-sister. It is possible she is an eighth my sister though. It's terribly confusing that. We are really much too inbred." She paused then continued, "Armando dear, this is Kuroro Lucifer, Dancho of the Genei Ryodan."
"Genei Ryodan?" Basilio spluttered. "What the fuck is going on, Aunt Kito?"
"Well," Midoya said slowly, as if speaking to a child, "I am taking the Infinity Gem from you, and I have teamed up with the Genei Ryodan to kill you. You really shouldn't have attacked them like that. Not smart, dear, not smart."
"I concur with June," Kuroro said, since he felt his input as a victim of Basilio's stupidity was needed.
"But Auntie…" Basilio stared, his eyes softening with confusion. "You are the one who told me to attack the Genei Ryodan. You are the one who told me they knew where the Gem is!"
And suddenly all kinds of pieces fell into place, making for a nasty, horrible picture. Kuroro whipped his head to look at Midoya, just as her hand closed around his right wrist in a tight grip that forced him to keep the Benz by his side and away from her.
"Catch," she said softly.
The flashlight dropped as Kuroro instinctively caught, with his left hand, the object she had thrown at him. In the tumbling light of the rolling flashlight, he saw clearly what she had passed to him.
A tampon.
For the briefest moment, Kuroro's wide, shocked eyes met hers and she smiled at him from the entrance of the vault, a friendly, pleasant smile. "Toodles, Kuroro," she said sweetly and slammed the vault door shut.
A split second later, the tampon exploded.
A/N: Oh, I was so excited to get this chapter out! From now on, things are going to get so exciting! And I remember someone requested that Hisoka appear in this story, so this is for you! Hope you liked it!
I can't wait to get the next chapter out next week! Maybe I'll get it out even sooner since I'm so fired up. We shall see. Till then, dear readers!
Trivial: Though Midoya wasn't too impressed with Prodigious Screw's epic masterworks, she was appreciative of art that showed the bumbling idiocy of humanity. Her favourite artist of that particular type was, in fact, a nephew and avid admirer of Prodigious Screw: Thou-Shalt-Not-Commit-Adultery Screw, commonly known as Adultery Screw.
Adultery Screw had, in fact, achieved a similar fame to Prodigious Screw, but for entirely different reasons. As a young artist, in his bid to follow his uncle's pioneering efforts in the field of Art, Adultery Screw had tried multiple times to 'screw-up' his art works. However, due to his immense talent in the field of painting, he failed to make any truly note-worthy mistakes. If he had been of a lesser mettle, Adultery Screw would have sunk into a deep depression and joined his uncle in the afterlife. However, Adultery Screw turned out to be a much more resilient man than his uncle, and he continued to persevere at his efforts.
Eventually, the brilliant mind of Adultery Screw came up with the most ingenious of ideas. If he could not paint mistakes the normal way, surely the best thing to do would be to paint under circumstances where he would be most likely to make a mistake? With that brilliant idea in mind, Adultery Screw had set about making the act of painting more complicated than it normally is.
First, he started off with blindfolding himself while he painted his wife. The resulting painting, with her face drawn onto her belly (which was drawn below her feet), sold for ten zennis to a businessman. Encouraged by this, Adultery Screw decided to push things further and make his painting environment even more hostile. In the following week, he frayed his brushes, poked holes in his palettes and tore off the labels on his paint pots.
However, that was not enough for Adultery Screw. As a pioneering artist in the field of Screw-ups, Adultery Screw felt he could and should push things even further. What were artists after all, but adventurers and pioneers of the uncharted land that is the human mind?
Finally, one bright and early morning, the city of Coridya awoke to the sight of a large canvas spread across the entire market square. High above that, someone had attached a tight-rope that stretched from the top of the mayor's house, across the market square, to the top of the church. Standing on the top of the mayor's house and holding a bucket of paint was the increasingly famous Adultery Screw. As the crowd gathered, Adultery Screw announced that he was going to paint the most epic Screw-up yet. Over the course of the next hour, he intended to pace up and down the tight-rope, holding a can of paint in each hand. His goal was to make sure the paint stayed in the can. However, due to the nature of the walk, the paint would, he hoped, drip onto the canvas in random drops and splatters, thus creating an entire canvas of mistakes. The resulting painting, he declared, would be the most beautiful Screw-up ever created. The crowd applauded his declaration and settled down to watch the master artist in action.
Unfortunately, barely half-way across his first round, Adultery Screw lost his footing and fell head first onto his canvas with fatal results.
Two hundred years later, admiring the giant canvas that stood in the hall of the Kito Mansion, Midoya had to admit that Adultery Screw hadn't quite failed at his final work. The resulting splatters, now brown and stiff with age, were truly magnificent.
Trivial Within the Trivial: Adultery Screw had three other siblings. An older brother named Thou-Shalt-Not-Take-The-Name-Of-The-Lord-Thy-God-In-Vain Screw, known commonly as Vain Screw, a younger brother named Remember-The-Sabbath-Day-To-Keep-It-Holy Screw or Holy Screw and a younger sister named Honour-Thy-Father-And-Thy-Mother Screw or Mother Screw.
Up till this date, none of the Screw children have ever forgiven their parents for their names.