A/N: College has been nice. Too nice. I didn't get as much writing done as I intended. Next chapter will be up within two weeks.

When Killua woke up, the only things he could register was the dull pounding of a hammer against his skull and knives in his temple. He groaned and rolled over, burying his face into the pillow.

Wait, pillow?

"Good morning!"

"Oh god, Feathers, not so loud." It felt like someone was ringing a cow-bell into his ear. Shit, when was the last time he had gotten a hangover?

With a strenuous heave, he sat up, and immediately had to curl into himself, forehead pressed into his knees, eyes shut tight.

"Fuck," he said, massaging his temples.

He lifted his head to see Feathers sitting on a cot opposite his, strapping his boots on. Feathers pointed to the wooden nightstand that stood between the heads of the cots.

"Those are the books you asked for," he said, lowering his voice to just a harsh whisper. "While you were out partying last night, Wings had me penned up in here studying. I hope you're happy."

"I'm sure it must've been difficult for you," said Killua sourly. He peered over his cot and saw his socks and boots from last night. As he slid them on to his cold feet, he asked, "How'd I get here?"

"Fisher brought you in. You were stone out cold. I swear I thought you were dead. By the way, what'd you do to him? He looked pissed. He just threw you on the cot and left."

"He wasn't even there," Killua mumbled, not sparing enough thought to it. He walked to the tent opening, and the warmth of the sunlight hit him in the face. He screwed his eyes against the glare and shielded his face with his hand quickly.

"Hell, what time is it?"

"A bit after eight-thirty. Doll's called everybody for a meeting at nine, to talk about the job," Feathers replied coming up behind him. Killua shot him a contemptuous glance.

"Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"

Feathers shrugged. "You came in pretty late last night. Plus I figured in the hangover. You can always go to Doc for a hangover cure. He's got a ton of those hoarded up for this sort of thing, although we suspect he uses most of them for himself. Also, breakfast is over, but I got some cranberry bread for you. You really owe me, Claws."

Killua caught the paper bag Feathers threw at him, not quite willing to say thanks just yet, but he did ease up. "Hold me up on it, let's go."

"Nah, you go see Doc," said Feathers, following him outside. "It's the tent over there. I've got a date with dirty dishes. See you at the meeting."

Killua strolled over to the tent Feathers had pointed out, trying to focus on the taste of the dried cranberries and ignoring the throbbing in his skull.

The infirmary tent was a clean beige and for some reason had foregone its tarpaulin cover. Sunlight filtered through the canvas easily and offered no respite to Killua as he stepped into it. It smelt of medical liniment and old iodine. Three metal-framed cots lay side by side, no patients this morning, and the curtains that would've separated them were bunched up against the ceiling's scaffold. Across the tent on one of the beds, Doc was hunched over a large suitcase, rummaging through its contents.

"Morning, Doc."

He looked up and Killua could see the dark rings under his eyes. Like Killua, he still wore the clothes from yesterday, wrinkled and disheveled. "Morning, Claws."

"You look good."

"Thanks." His tone was heavy with sarcasm and exhaustion. Killua decided not to press it.

"Feathers told me you have something for hangovers," he said simply. He took a seat on one of the chairs, sitting the opposite way so that he could cross his arms over the backrest and lean his chin against them.

Doc chuckled. "You're quick." His attention went back to the suitcase lying open in front of him. Killua peered in and saw it full of medicinal equipment and drugs. Doc opened a compartment and brought out a bottle half-filled with pills.

"What's the usual dose?" asked Killua.

"Just one should do the trick, just give it fifteen minutes or so."

"Give me three."

"Hell no, Claws. As a doctor I cannot do that. These are slightly emetic. Taking more than two will have you over the bucket all afternoon." He tossed the bottle in the air, as if that would convey his point.

"I have hyper-tolerance to most drugs," Killua tried to explain. Doc still looked pensive.

"By that logic, you shouldn't be having hangovers at all. Just how much did you drink?"

"Enough apparently," Killua said tiredly, holding out a hand and avoiding eye-contact.

Doc got the message and dropped a pair of pills into Killua's open palm. "Two," he said firmly.

"Thanks," said Killua, and dry swallowed them. Doc placed the bottle back in the suitcase. He looked to Killua.

"Need something for your cheek as well?"

"My cheek?"

Killua's fingers moved to his face where Magician's nails had dug in. "No, I've got this," he said, and tapped the shallow wound. There was a sharp, tingling sensation as the skin re-knit itself.

"It usually does good to wipe anti-septic before you do the healing," said Doc, looking a little peeved.

"Oh, um – "

He sounded just like Star like that; concerned, upset, and condescending all at once.

"Never mind. I'm actually glad you came to see me, Claws," he said, with an odd emphasis on the name. "Claws. Claws clawsclawsclaws. I never questioned the name, but that's because I would've never guessed –"

"That I actually have claws," Killua finished for him tonelessly. He'd heard this before.

"Yeah, how the fuck does that kind of thing happen?"

"Sold my soul for 'em. Honestly, Doc, we're wizards. Is this the oddest thing you've seen?"

"No, honestly, the oddest thing I've seen was one of those chimera ants."

Killua raised an eyebrow, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," said Doc, straightening up." From the Golden Age. Boar was an archaeological fanatic, real crazy about it, and he loved digging this stuff up. He dug up that chimera that one time and brought it back to see if we could resurrect it." He looked tired but managed to find the energy to gesture actively with his hands as he spoke.

"How'd that go?"

"Do you see any chimeras walking around here? Everybody put their foot down against that. Canine and Goldeye destroyed it when he wasn't looking. Bless 'em. Wait, we're going off topic here? Can I have a look at those later?"

"You can see them now."

Killua held out his left hand and the claws came sliding out, smooth and easy, while the joints in his fingers audibly popped, and tendons and veins bulged in somatic reaction.

Doc stared transfixed, and reached out a hand. "May I?" he asked.

Killua shrugged. Doc took his hand, crawling with ugly, varicose veins, and examined it with a professional interest.

"Again, I must ask; how the fuck does something like that happen? I mean," he elaborated, letting go of Killua's hand so he could gesture wildly again. "Where does the length of it come from? How do you push it out? How do you pull it back in? Doesn't it hurt?"

"Surgery. Under my skin. Willpower. Willpower. And yes."

"Surgery?"

"As a child. The nails go all the way until the first joint," Killua said, tapping his knuckles. "And they're grafted with nerve endings. I force them out the say same way you instinctively know how to move your fingers. Once they come out, I coat the nails with a coating of magic to prevent them breaking. If I pull in the chipped nail, it scratches the skin here," he indicated, internally wincing at the memory of his first experience.

Doc still stared at him, incredulous.

"That is both fascinating and fucked up," he said.

"I do not recommend it."

Killua relaxed his hand and allowed his fingers return to normal. He wriggled them a bit let loose the carpal pain, a sensation of sharp hooks and impetus that he had long gotten accustomed to.

Outside, the noise of a gathering crowd was gaining dominance. Doc peeked through a flap in the tent.

"You better get going. Goldilocks there is going to tell everyone that we're now lackeys of the world's most dangerous wizards. You wouldn't want to miss that."

The derisive tone was back again. Killua didn't get up immediately and instead lifted a hand to rest his cheek against. He could blame the hangover for now.

"You have any clue what they're asking us to do?" he said conversationally. "I mean, other than that vague 'let's defeat the supervillains and save the world' shit? Cuz that's really cliché."

"Glad to see we're on the same page," said Doc, lightening some. "I saw some of the other Zodiacs were packing things into their stores. I assume they're going off somewhere on their own, since we've had no orders to pack up." His voice was heavy with a suspicion that Killua couldn't blame him for.

The chattering of the crowd had died down, and against the hum of background noise Killua recognized flinty voice of their captain. He strained to listen but he could not make out the words.

"It's like we've traveled back in time," he commented.

"You said it, Claws," said Doc. He had his elbows on his knees and his hands hanging lazily between them. The attentive look on his face suggested that he had also been trying to listen in.

"How's Chains?" asked Killua when he still couldn't catch anything. If he couldn't, then Doc probably couldn't either.

"Still sleeping, but nothing to worry about. Once he wakes up he'll be at full charge again. Me on the other hand, I'm walking around with an empty tank. Dark arts really takes a toll."

"I notice Fisher's walking around just fine," said Killua, remembering what Feathers had told him. Now that his head wasn't so bogged down he could file it away and think on it later.

"That's Fisher for you. You know, I'd say he's the one who's really sold his soul. He's inexhaustible. Now get going, you don't want to miss an official assembly."

Killua stood up and moved the chair back in place. He looked to Doc, who had turned his attention back to the medicine box.

"Aren't you coming?"

"I've got things to finish up in here. Someone will update me."

Doc waved a hand dismissively and Killua left him be. His feet didn't feel quite as weighted as they had been earlier and the sun didn't seem too bright any more. His mind was clear enough for him to go over last night's events, and he internally berated himself for making such a rookie mistake. It's the first thing they teach. Don't take drinks from strange men, even if you think you're immune…

He spotted Feathers and the back of the crowd and went and stood behind him.

"So, uh, what's the news?" he whispered.

Feathers turned to answer him then saw the smug grin wiped across Killua's face.

"Fucker, you knew," whispered Feathers. "No wonder you wanted those history books."

"Surprise," Killua muttered.

Rabbit had taken the podium now, and her voice rang clear across the crowd, barely needing the spell it rode on.

Dollface and Shadowwalker were standing behind her at the edge of the raised platform. Killua craned his head a little and saw the block of jet black hair that told him Clairvoyant was placed off-stage, just visible enough for the Hunters to register her presence, not enough for them to pay attention to her. The Corpsebinder was nowhere in sight.

"This is how we're going to do it; our Zodiacs and zodiac level wizards will follow The Shaddowwalker to the outer Barrowlands-"

There was a collective murmur of disapproval.

"-while the rest of us are going to stay in camp and help Madam Clairvoyant construct spells that to subdue the Royal Guards." Rabbit paused and eyed the crowd sternly. "Capiche?"

She knew fully well that no one could or would object, not when their clients were standing right there.

"These spells will be difficult," she continued. "- so we will be working by the dozen in two to three hour shifts, depending on the group's overall ability. Madam Clairvoyant estimates the whole thing will take a week or so to complete. So please be on your best behavior around town because we can't afford to be kicked out by the syndic again."

"And what afterwards?" someone called out.

"Then we march," she said simply, and looked back towards Doll, who nodded.

The crowd dispersed except for those who volunteered for first shift. Killua was moving away when he finally spotted the shorter Taken trying to get his attention. He was doing a half jog towards them, and a bit of a look that said that he wasn't happy doing so. Killua stopped in his tracks to let him catch up.

"Hey, silver spikes!" he called as he got nearer.

"Silver spikes?" Killua muttered.

"He's referring to your hair," Feathers snickered.

"Damn right I am," said Corpse, bounding up to them. "Last time I saw anything that ridiculous I was diving for deep sea urchins."

"Do you need something?" Killua asked abruptly. Beside him, Feathers was fidgeting with his sleeves.

"You're coming with me, to the old palace. We'll take that disaster of a flying carpet and bring back some new ones, amongst other things that might prove useful in the upcoming battles."

"Flying carpet?" Feathers blurted out, at the same time Killua asked "Battles?"

"The royal guards won't go down without a fight. And yes, flying carpets." He looked at Feathers critically. "Aren't you a little young to be on this team?"

"Apprentice in-training, sir." Feathers actually saluted.

"So you won't be on the spellwork crew?"

"No, sir."

Corpse quirked his mouth and looked thoughtful. "You want to come with us, kid?" he offered, to Killua's complete surprise.

"Yes please," said Feathers excitedly.

"Then you have ten minutes to pack, and secure some food for us with your kitchens. I don't want a repeat of yesterday."

"Yes sir!" Feathers saluted again and he ran off. Killua stared after him, a frown on his face. He wondered if he was authorized to give the kid the standard 'whose-ass-you-can-or-cannot-kiss' lecture.

Corpse turned, hands interlaced behind his back. "Walk with me," he said, and started moving towards the podium.

"Any particular reason you're picking me as your cohort?" Killua asked, trudging after him.

"Nah, I simply doubt you'd be any use with this group here, seeing as you're stubbornly refusing to use your magic."

"Oh."

"Any reason for that?" Corpsebinder turned his face to look at Killua's.

Killua pondered, wondering to go for an embroidered story or the truth. He decided to go with the truth. No way telling if Corpse was a mindsayer or no.

"A while back I got cursed," he said, tapping his forehead. "My brother always kept reins on how I used my magic but now I can't access it all, not unless I've got a death wish."

Corpse paused to mull it over. "That's it?"

"Were you expecting something else?"

"Honestly… yes. I'd thought you'd have some deep secrets that I'd have to coax out of you. Well, that's my imagination running away with itself." He waved a hand at the air. "Have you seen an exorcist? Or maybe tried apologizing to your brother?"

"Can't. He's dead,"

"Oh, a dying curse then," said Corpse solemnly.

"Yep, no chance of exorcising this one," Killua said a bit too lightly.

"Tough luck, kid,"

"It's been no problem. I only had meager amounts of magic to begin with anyway."

Corpse chuckled. "I sincerely doubt that."

They reached the table where Clairvoyant had laid out some old scrolls across a makeshift table and was describing the spells to the hunters gathered around her. Killua took a short glance at it and had a moment of sheer gratitude that he wasn't taking part in that.

Doll looked up and acknowledged their presence with a nod.

"Have you got enough space on that flying carpet for two more people?" she asked.

"I've just invited one other bugger," said Corpse. "We can manage but it'll be a tight squeeze."

"We did manage with the four of us and the Clairvoyant after all," pointed out Killua.

"Good. Magician and Fisher will be accompanying you then," she said, gesturing to the two, who were engrossed in conversation near the tree-line.

"What for?" Killua asked, eyeing Magician warily. Magician noticed him and winked back. Killua resisted the urge to flip him off.

"Magician's got a lead on Boar's death in Meteor City. It's on the way to the old palace so you can just drop them off," said Doll. She picked up a large sheet of parchment and held it up so she could examine the geometry and layers that would comprise the spells. Killua was so transfixed in its patterns he didn't notice Magician creep up behind them.

"Maybe we'll even go with you. I'm sure Fisher would love to see the old palace. I know I do."

Killua spun around to face him, though keeping a mask of casual indifference on his face. Magician didn't bother to spare him a glance. His attention was settled on the other guy.

"This isn't a tourist expedition," said Corpse stiffly.

"No, that would actually be most ideal," said Clairvoyant from the table, as if she'd been listening to the whole exchange. She straightened up so she could talk to them over the human wall of Hunters who were bent over the scrolls.

"If you could give Fisher one of the smaller carpets then he and the Magician can return without delay. Then this whole operation can proceed as smoothly as possible."

Maybe, just maybe, Killua felt like he had heard enough about Fisher.

"But do we even know where the royal guards are?" Killua asked cautiously instead.

"No," Clairvoyant admitted. Before anyone could even say anything, Doll silenced them with a cutting glare.

"They know I have the ability to see them, so they've been keeping up very strong wards around themselves. But I have a vigilant watch, and the moment one of them slips I'll know immediately," Clairvoyant finished carefully.

"And then we'll swoop in like a hawk to its prey." Corpse's smile was edged with sadism. "I cannot wait for the sweet taste of vengeance. Are we all agreed then?"

When Doll and Clairvoyant nodded, he turned to Killua. "You get your things and find that other boy. Meet me here in 20 minutes."