A/N: Well, here we are, round 3! From here on out we are entering what I like to call the Chrollo Chronicles. What this means is that the sections will get shorter, and a bit more vignette-y style. The reason for this is that it is basically safe to assume Kurapika is brooding alone for the rest of the time. Please enjoy!
Half my bones in the city streets
The other in my sheets
And I don't think they'll ever get
The chance to meet
I never never never said that I wanted (That I wanted)
I never never never never said I wanted
Never wanted to be here now
One foot in the grave, other on the ground
I can't process what I'm feeling now
This skin I can do without
(cont from last chapter Song: Half -PVRIS)
You took my heaven away...
1:30 am, Kings, Yorknew, Phantom Troupe Base
There was blinding light, followed by a dull, waxing ache concentrated in Kurapika's head as his eyes blinked open. He tried to sit up, eyes adjusting slowly to the light, as the pain in his head grew to a throb. Several figures popped into view as he blinked, rubbing his eyes.
"He's awake!" a voice cried, and Kurapika's head turned to the right to follow the noise.
He saw a young woman who wore a black turtleneck and had short black hair and glasses pointing at him, and suddenly felt pressure restraining his left arm and leg. He whipped around to see a pink haired woman holding him down; his free arm instinctually reached for his weapon only to be met with an empty pocket. Just as Kurapika started to struggle away from the woman's grip, a short man with black hair swiftly restrained his right side, rendering Kurapika immobile.
"Looking for these...?" a blonde boy with a bowl cut hairstyle had a smug smile in Kurapika's direction. In his hands, he held up Kurapika's weapons, chains, and wallet.
Kurapika tensed, pupils dilating in fear as he scanned the faces of his captors. The black-haired man had a menacing look in his eyes; the pink-haired woman looked completely void of emotion. More people started gathering around him with curious looks on their faces. Kurapika started counting: 1, 2, 3 people… he locked eyes with a dwarf with long silver hair, and his suspicions were confirmed. This was the Phantom Troupe, and he had severely underestimated their numbers. Kurapika counted 10 people in the room that were closing in on him like shrinking walls in a horror movie.
"Boss," the man on his right started, "should I begin the interrogation?" he asked, with a maniacal glint in his eyes. Kurapika followed his gaze to a handsome man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a cross tattoo on his forehead. He was nothing like Kurapika had envisioned the Spider head: this man was far too young, attractive, and innocent looking. He wore a long leather jacket with a fur collar, and was staring right at Kurapika.
"Not yet, Feitan. Let him breathe for a moment." Feitan and the woman relaxed their grips ever so slightly, but didn't move away.
"Shalnark, his wallet," he said, holding his hand out to that same blonde boy with the smile. The boss pulled out one of Kurapika's cards, inspecting it. "Kurapika K, YNPD." He looked back at Kurapika's face, then chuckled once, shaking his head. "You're the last person I would have expected to take down two of us."
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Kurapika's eyes narrowed, insulted, but he said nothing.
"Who told you we'd be at the Met last Friday?" the boss asked.
"You better not lie," Feitan warned, "I'll know, and I don't like liars." He gave Kurapika's arm an uncomfortably tight squeeze.
Kurapika closed his eyes and said nothing at all. These people didn't deserve anything, especially information. After a few beats of silence, he heard a sigh and his eyes flicked open to look at the boss.
"Alright, Feitan, go ahead," the boss directed with a wave of his hand. Kurapika grimaced and tried not to scream as he felt a shooting pain up his right arm.
"You sure you don't want to talk, pig?" Feitan's eyes were glinting sadistically down at Kurapika as he grabbed his wrist, twisting and bending it backwards into an unnatural position. Kurapika choked out a noise in agony, eyes bulging. Feitan smiled at his reaction, clearly enjoying his pain. The boss was facing away from Kurapika now, eyes closed as if he didn't want to watch. Suddenly, Kurapika felt a searing burn in his finger. Feitan had a knife wedged under his fingernail, pushing it deeper and deeper…
The pain was unbearable; Kurapika couldn't take it. "It was Hisoka!" Kurapika finally cried. "Hisoka Morow. He told me!" The pressure under his fingernail subsided instantly, replaced by a dull throb. Kurapika let out a breath and laid his head back down, watching as a flash of realization replaced the expressionless void of Pink-hair's face.
"I knew it!" she exclaimed, and the entire room turned to look at the usually stoic woman with surprise.
"Explain, Machi," the boss said. The question made the girl suddenly turn sheepish, and she shrugged.
"Just a hunch," Machi admitted.
"I see," the boss replied. The Troupe then erupted into small murmurs of conversations, and Kurapika could only make out a few phrases like 'she's got good intuition', and 'of course it was that fucking clown'. Kurapika noticed for the first time where he was, lying on some sort of table inside of what must be a giant abandoned warehouse. With a quick glance beyond some of the Troupe members Kurapika saw tons of artwork, technology, and the nicest furniture he'd ever seen; clearly stolen goods.
The boss silenced everyone by acting next. He approached the table Kurapika was restrained on and leaned in until they were a couple inches apart, inspecting his face. Kurapika was completely surprised, taking in the man's handsome face in such close proximity. The boss must have seen what he was looking for, and pulled away slightly.
"Take out your contacts," he commanded. He noticed my contacts?! Kurapika was angered by the man's keen observation.
"No." Kurapika said, and the boss's expression shifted to amusement.
"Guess we'll have to do this the hard way. Feitan," he said expectantly. Feitan's eyes lit up again, maniacally. He started reaching a hand down to Kurapika's eyeball, and Kurapika filled with panic, giving in.
"NO! No, no need for that. I'll do it myself," Kurapika cried. His captors released their grip on his arms, and Kurapika removed the contacts, exposing his red eyes. He tossed them on the floor.
"How interesting. Red eyes. They're a rather daunting shade of scarlet." Chrollo seemed to contemplate to himself for a moment. "Must be a genetic mutation," he conjectured. "Are you albino?" he asked as he looked back into the red orbs. Kurapika said nothing, responding only with a silent glare.
The man's contemplation was interrupted by Shalnark. "Boss, it's already 2," Shalnark reminded him, looking up from his uPhone.
"It is? Well, I better get going then. I'll be back in a few hours. Take Kurapika to the guest room. If he tries to escape, kill him."
Kurapika was then lifted off the table by Machi and Feitan, and escorted into one of the rooms. Escorted meaning that he was pushed in as the door was shut behind him.
As he looked around at the interior of the room, he guessed that there could be far worse places to live out the last moments of his life while the Troupe decided how they wanted to end him. There was a king-sized bed with crisp, white sheets, a vanity, a flat screen TV, a rather substantial bookshelf, and a private bathroom. His headache was pounding now, worse than before, so he drank some water from the sink, sank down to the floor, and put his head between his knees, waiting for his judgement.
The sound of the door opening and closing made Kurapika lift his head. It was followed by footsteps, that made Kurapika's nerves start firing like bullets.
The leader of the Troupe found Kurapika shortly after, sitting on the bathroom floor. "Ah, there you are," he said, extending a hand down towards Kurapika.
Kurapika ignored the hand, choosing to stand up on his own. After all, he'd at least choose to leave this world with some dignity. The boss's hand fell to his side.
"I'm Chrollo Lucilfer, by the way. I'm afraid we didn't get to have a proper introduction earlier." Kurapika just stared at him. How trivial that introduction seemed after all that had happened.
Chrollo continued speaking. "Those are some nice eyes you got there, blondie." The voice was calm, composed, and silky smooth.
"Of course, you would think so. I assume you've seen them more than I have."
"I don't believe I've ever seen eyes quite so captivating in my life. Tell me blondie, are the rest of your family's eyes as magnificently iridescent as yours?"
"You sick bastard. You don't even remember, do you?"
"Unfortunately, I'm in the dark on this one."
The rage bubbled up in Kurapika like an overfilled pot of boiling water. He was livid, teeth clenched in utter disgust.
"You... revolting... pieces... of shit," he choked out. "You murdered my entire tribe to harvest our eyes and you... YOU DON'T EVEN REMEMBER IT. "
I'll fucking kill you, right here, right now. I'll do it with my bare hands.
His blood was pumping, ready to strike at any moment.
Kurapika watched as Chrollo's confused expression morphed into one of recognition, and it was enough to set him over the edge, as he rushed Chrollo with murderous intent.
What Kurapika didn't expect was for Chrollo to be so fast.
He threw quick punches to Chrollo's stomach and windpipe, only to be met with swift blocks. His next plan of action was to knock Chrollo over with his legs Jiu-Jitsu style. After all, he hadn't trained in Mixed Martial Arts for nothing. However, it appeared Chrollo had trained too, and was one step ahead. He anticipated Kurapika's move, and countered it, and before Kurapika knew it he was pinned on the floor, Chrollo's body hovering over his, his legs and arms held down by Chrollo's weight so he couldn't move.
"The Kurta clan. I remember now. Our old leader was quite the sadist. Back in the day he and 4 other Spiders loved to hunt those type of treasures. They would wander off by themselves, coming home with rare body parts from all kinds of people. I always thought it was in poor taste. Sadly for you blondie, you've come a few years too late. I believe Uvo was the last of the four still around, and you already took care of him." Chrollo eased off a little, and Kurapika lifted his head, still unable to move his legs.
"You've got good technique. I can tell you're fast, skilled, and good at your job." He leaned forward and lifted pika's chin. "And those eyes... well, I can see why they sold well on the black market. They truly are exquisite." Chrollo's grey eyes bore into scarlet. Kurapika was overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. "The old boss and his flesh-hunting crew made some fatal mistakes. The first and foremost was leaving survivors. He and two of the four were hunted down in '08, after recklessness had caused them to self-destruct. They were caught off guard and killed by people like you, who also wanted vengeance. Seems I'm still having to clean up his mess, after all these years. I apologize for your suffering, we'll have to see what we can do about that."
Kurapika blinked in confusion. Why was he apologizing...? "You mean you're not going to kill me?"
Chrollo tilted his head. "Why would I? You'd obviously make a great addition to the team."
Kurapika scoffed. "I just killed two of your members and you want me to join you? Are you insane?"
"Around here we only have two rules. The first is that internal disputes are solved with a coin flip. The second is if you kill a Troupe member, you become eligible to take their place."
"You'd let someone who killed your comrades join? That's barbaric."
"Well, we can't all spend our entire lives focused on the dead, blondie."
Kurapika did not like that taunt one bit. He glared fiercely at Chrollo. "Don't fuck around. I would never, ever choose to join this pathetic group of bandits you call a team."
"That's where you're wrong. This isn't really a choice. You might not join now, but someday you'll will. And you'll want to, too. You'll remain here until you do." And with that, he left the room, leaving a bewildered and fuming Kurapika alone.
Kurapika shot up from his spot on the ground and started pacing around the room, trying to blow off some steam.
His mind was all over the place. He could barely process what had just happened to him. His head still clouded with fiery rage; it felt as if his vision was tinted red. He had fully expected to die, but instead he was left to himself, entirely alive. What had that bastard even been on about?
Oh, right. He said he didn't do it.
Kurapika couldn't believe it. Or maybe, a part of him didn't want it to be true.
Chrollo didn't do it. No one here did it.
Ever since he first came to YorkNew as a young teenager, and heard that his clan was hunted for their eyes, he'd only had two goals. Avenge their deaths, and collect their eyes.
But Chrollo didn't do it.
I already killed Uvogin, the last one.
Well, this wasn't part of the plan. Not at all. In fact, Kurapika had never even considered this option before. He became a police officer for the sole purpose of tracking down the people who killed his family.
He didn't even get to be the one to avenge their deaths. Although, the rational part of Kurapika's brain knew it made sense. Most of the troupe members couldn't be more than 5 years older than him, which would have made them young teenagers when his family was massacred. But how could he have anticipated this when he vowed to hunt them down? Had his whole life since the massacre been for nothing?
He inwardly cursed. This was just his luck. He'd never see the rest of the people who led the massacre, let alone kill them himself. His vengeance was… over? That couldn't be true…
He paused in front of the door, remembering the way Chrollo looked at him, the smugness in Shalnark's voice, the way Feitan smirked as he pinned him down. What kind of people are you?
The adrenaline he'd had in his blood slowly wore off, and Kurapika was consumed with a crushing feeling of emptiness. He felt hollow inside and out, and more alone than ever before. His body was also fading fast, as exhaustion was finally catching up to him. Tears welled up in the corner of his eyes as he stumbled over to the bed.
He didn't even take off his tie before he nearly collapsed on top of the mattress, letting darkness take over.
When did I get so pitiful
Just a goddamn corpse in a centerfold
You got my back against the wall
And now I can't ever get comfortable
No, I never sold my soul
If I ever do throw my bones to the wolves
No, I never sold my soul
No, I never sold mine
Song: What's Wrong - PVRIS
Kurapika was supine, lying on the luxury king-sized bed in the room they'd put him in. He'd been staring at the ceiling for hours now, ever since he awoke at what he suspected was morning. His brain running in circles, thinking over and over every possible outcome to his situation. Surely, the best scenario would be to escape. He could go back to the station and arrest them all.
But his room had no windows, and concrete walls. The only other items in the room were a bookshelf and flat screen TV. He was sure that the area outside his door was surrounded by Troupe members, who had orders to kill him if he tried to escape. Kurapika knew he couldn't take them down all at once, especially not if they fought anything like Chrollo did. So, leaving was not an option.
If he couldn't leave, what else was there to do? He remembered Chrollo's offer to join the Troupe. Their "system" for replacement. Kurapika's lips curled in utter disgust thinking about it. These people must be truly evil savages, lacking respect for even the life of one of their own. At that moment, Kurapika would rather die than join them. The anger threatened to come all over again even thinking about it.
Kurapika had had two goals ever since he was put in foster-care as a young teenager in YorkNew. Avenge his brethren, and collect their eyes. Revenge, at this point, was a long-lost cause. It felt as if vengeance itself had been taken from him, yet another thing killed before he got a chance to say goodbye. This fact rang loudly in Kurapika's mind, and made him feel hollow.
He was truly caught in the spider's web. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The only thing left to do was wait and pray for the web to unravel before the spider would eat him whole.
He spent a while longer like this, brooding in silence, until he heard a pounding on the door, which jolted him up to sitting position.
"Hey kid, come out here," a blonde troupe member wearing a tracksuit said while pushing Kurapika's door open. "You're on TV."
Kurapika sprung upwards, following the man into the living room area where the entirety of the Troupe, except Chrollo, were lounging on expensive-looking couches, chairs, or rugs. Everyone's eyes were glued to the flat screen television mounted on the concrete wall, save for the long-haired guy with the ponytail, who shot Kurapika a glare as he approached, making Kurapika come to an awkward stop by the sofa's left side. Track-suit-guy gestured to a chair, and Kurapika politely waved to decline the offer. At that Track-suit shrugged, taking the chair for himself.
Kurapika then followed everyone else's gaze to the TV to see his police ID photo covering the right-hand side, and his eyes widened, darting up to read the text flashing on the top of the screen.
Identified YNPD Policeman Commits Double Homicide at Met Gala, Goes Missing
The news-anchor on the TV spoke, "After two security guards were found dead, Kurapika K, local YNPD officer was seen pointing a loaded gun at a collapsed body before running out of the building and essentially disappearing into thin air, as authorities are unable to locate the man. A gala attendee was also later found dead in the stairwell with a stab wound and traces of pepper spray, likely also the doing of officer K. Authorities are unsure if he killed both security guards, as a study on the wounds found suggest one of them killed the other before officer K stepped in as vigilante. The city of Yorknew is still unsure of the whereabouts of officer K, and more updates will follow as the search continues…"
Kurapika's mouth hung open in shock of the news, his heart rate increasing rapidly as the reality sunk in. This can't be… this can't… Kurapika felt the panic coming on, growing more suffocating by the second. He'd fucked up, big time, and dug himself into a hole that left no path to crawl out of. He squeezed his eyes shut as his teeth clenched tightly.
There was low laughter growing from somewhere in the room. "Ha! Our new little righteous pig's gotten himself in a pickle!"
Another voice spoke out as Kurapika kept his eyes pressed tightly shut in an attempt to keep the tears back. "Yeah, might as well get off your high horse now kid, cause it's looking like you're no better than us."
There was more laughter, loud and shrill now in Kurapika's ears, smothering him. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. His eyes flew open, just to see everyone in the room staring at him with amused and mocking expressions. I hate you all… I hate you all… was all Kurapika thought.
The small girl with the black hair spoke next, giggling. "Aww, he's so upset. The poor thing." And Kurapika couldn't take it anymore, he was about to snap. He darted back to the room and slammed the door, gasping for air.
The guilt and panic were back full swing, like a weight crushing Kurapika's lungs, a white noise rushing at deafening levels in his eardrums. The difference was this time Kurapika had no outlet; there was no one to blame but himself. It was too much, he couldn't seem to process it.
His trembling hand reached to pick up the TV remote and he turned it right back to the news channel, needing to see the rest… The two news anchors were now discussing his story.
"It just seems odd to me, Chuck, that an officer with such a flawlessly clean record would do such a public act of terror."
"I agree Rachel, and it was such a peculiar crime scene as well. The strangest part is that authorities are unable to identify the two victims Officer K is thought to have killed— actually the female security guard was found to not be employed at the Met at all. No family members or associates of the victims have come forward with any other information."
"It certainly seems like we don't have the full story yet, and we'll be tuning in, ready to report those details as they become available."
Kurapika couldn't tear his eyes away, and as he watched his emotions slowly turned from panic into a reflective, dejected state. He saw the most frustrating witness-filmed footage of himself with his gun, frozen like a deer in headlights, before he had booked it out of the building. He had acted impulsively, too recklessly, but after remembering the way the woman didn't hesitate to kill the security guard, he decided that he had no regrets, other than not running fast enough to get away.
The buzz of his head and the TV kept Kurapika's attention as his mental state grew worse, his mind growing numb. There was no escape from the reality of his situation. His feelings towards the Troupe burned in his chest like smoke.
Kurapika stayed like that, watching the news until he became tired. The relentlessly analytical part of him had learned from the news that the Troupe was so underground, the police force couldn't even identify their bodies. Were they foreign, then? But none of them had any hint of an accent. Kurapika sighed and ran his hands through his hair, exasperated and mentally exhausted. Not that any of this mattered anyway-the chances of him ever being in a position to use this information to his advantage were growing slimmer by the second.
He made his way to the bathroom, tipping his head under the sink to drink a bit of water, before rinsing his face. The situation he was in was very strange, he had nothing on him, just trapped in what was basically a gilded cage. All things considered, he felt lucky the Troupe had left him alone; hopefully there wouldn't be any more torture sessions today.
That bubble was burst as Kurapika heard a knock at his door.
He opened the door and there Chrollo stood with his infuriatingly symmetrical face, making Kurapika's nerves spike.
"Evening," he said, advancing into the room with an arrogant sort of grace to his walk.
Kurapika hissed. "What do you want?"
"Checking in." He threw some pills, and what appeared to be bandages on the table nonchalantly. "For your injuries," he said.
Kurapika didn't know whether to thank him for wanting to treat his injuries or tell him to piss off. He decided to go with the latter.
"I don't need your pithy mothering."
"Oh?" Chrollo teased, sauntering over to where Kurapika stood his ground. He lifted a hand and stroked the side of Kurapika's face. He froze in place as the sudden forwardness took him by surprise, but winced when Chrollo's fingers touched a fresh cut on his cheek. "I wouldn't want to see that pretty face impaired."
The provocative nature of Chrollo's comment forced Kurapika to come to his senses. He shoved the Troupe leader away from him, using as much force as he could.
"Stay away from me," Kurapika warned.
Chrollo looked surprised for a moment, then brushed his sleeves and smirked mischieviously. "Fiesty tonight, aren't we?"
In a split second, Chrollo had cornered Kurapika, and completely overtaken him. He had Kurapika's hands pinned above his head, with his back pressed flush against the wall. How did he move so fast? Chrollo's smirk grew, and his eyes were dark, black voids boring into Kurapika. Chrollo tilted his chin down, leaning in closer to Kurapika's face. The grip he had on Kurapika's wrists was strong, too heavy for him to move. As Kurapika felt Chrollo's warm breath on his skin, and Chrollo's hair tickling his forehead, his breathing stopped. Daring to make eye contact, Kurapika tried his best to look stony despite the heat that was crawling up his neck and spilling on his cheeks.
Kurapika felt uncomfortably powerless as Chrollo's body loomed over him, close in a way he'd never experienced before that moment. Chrollo was smiling thinly as he moved one hand to lift up Kurapika's chin, and pressed their lips together in a gentle kiss.
Kurapika's eyes widened as he felt Chrollo's lips on his. He couldn't move and couldn't think, frozen in time, heart racing. Before Kurapika could react, just half a second later, Chrollo had already pulled away, assessing his reaction with a cold, thin smile.
"Hmm, yes, blondie," he started, watching a flustered, helpless Kurapika, "I'll definitely have lots of fun with you."
Kurapika tried to say something but no words came out. Chrollo released his grip on Kurapika, heading back towards the door.
"Goodnight blondie," Chrollo said before exiting the room, looking back once more at Kurapika, who had yet to move from that spot on the wall.
When the door shut Kurapika sank down to the floor, collecting his thoughts. Chrollo's touch had had an undeniable power over him; his strength completely dominating. Why couldn't he push him away? How did Chrollo get so strong, so fast? Kurapika chuckled grimly to himself; how pitiful his life had become, how little control he had. Not only was he wanted for murder, he was caged up like a prisoner, and now, apparently, he was going to be The Troupe leader's new toy.
His mind wandered to thoughts of Leorio, Gon, Killua. They'd be together by now. Once they heard the news, they'd definitely be hurt and angry. Finding out your close friend is a murderer would make anyone feel disturbed. Kurapika thought maybe escape didn't sound like such a great option anymore, as his friends would certainly never be able to forgive him—At least, Kurapika knew he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he were in their shoes. His mind went numb with loneliness as tears started to fall down his cheeks; yes, perhaps it was better this way, if he never saw them again.
As he recalled what the Troupe had said earlier,
"you're no better than us, get off your high horse, pig," Kurapika's only consolation was that he knew they were wrong. They had to be monsters, killing and stealing and using people as toys. He swore to himself long ago he'd never sell his soul. Whatever they did to his body was fine, but he thought, at that moment, that he would never sympathize with demons like them.
Killua was on Leorio's couch, playing with his yo-yo. He was trying to master a new trick he learned on the internet. Gon sat on the other side of the couch, hunched over his sketchbook, drawing the skyline of YorkNew. Leorio was in the kitchen, making sandwiches for the boys. They'd go to the Thomasburg festival in a few hours, and were enjoying each other's company until then, like old times.
It was fall break, so Gon and Killua had a few days off of school to come visit the big city. Leorio said he thought Kurapika was mad at him, because Kurapika hadn't answered his calls or texts. He was meant to be having fun and relaxing with them now. But Killua didn't think that Kurapika was the type to back out on a promise to his friends, especially not over something petty.
The TV was playing the news, thanks to Leorio and his boring old-man tastes. Killua would rather be watching cartoons, but Leorio had fought him on it, lecturing Killua with something totally lame like 'the news keeps you educated' and 'as a police officer it's important to keep up with current events' blah, blah, blah. Killua had tuned out immediately. Whatever, old man.
He looked up, about to ask what was taking so long with those sandwiches when he saw a familiar face on the screen. He grabbed the remote from Gon's side, turned up the volume and then hit Gon on the shoulder several times.
"Oww Killua! That hurts!" he whined.
"Dude, that's Kurapika," Killua said, pointing at the screen. "Old man, get in here! Kurapika's on the news!"
Leorio pulled off his apron, and came running from the kitchen. As they listened to the news anchor Killua saw Gon got visibly tense, eyes hardening. He looked back to Leorio to see a similar expression on his face.
"I don't… believe this…" Leorio said, hands clenching into fists.
"Kurapika would never do something like this!" Gon exclaimed.
"He went missing too," Killua added, shaking his head. "None of this story sounds like Kurapika."
"We have to find him! We have to save him! This story is absolute bullshit!" Gon said, livid. Killua couldn't help but admire how quickly Gon decided to help; how he was always there for his friends, assuming the best in them.
"Yeah, it's bullshit alright," Leorio agreed, his voice now a low grumble, "we're definitely going to find him and clear his name. Come on, let's get ready to go. We've got no time to lose."
The boys nodded in agreement, jumping to their feet.
A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Even if you didn't, hey, it's free content, u know? ;)
Anyway, PT is not as evil as canon. I thought about making Chrollo the one who killed Pika's clan, but I just couldn't figure out how to make it work without going totally OOC one way or the other. Things from here on out are going to get WEIRD and SPICY between kurokura, fam. Consider yourself warned. Leave a review if you'd like, I wanna hear what you think!
