Katekyo Hitman Reborn

My Fate is Certainly Uncertain

Chapter 5: In and out

Overall Warnings: Violence, swearing, blood and Oc-ness.

[Written to: Give Me A Sign - Breaking Benjamin Cover - Gavinmichail

Miracle Orange - Kyary Pamyu Pamyu]

~o0o~

Crusted eyes split slowly, after hearing the sickly sweet sound of birds chirping, probably stretching out their thin wings, and with a blocked nose that caused my ears to be blocked slightly, I sniffed, barely able to swallow. My lips were chapped and cracked, gone without a sip water for what seemed like a while. I was still hanging by my hands, which I couldn't feel at all due to having them above my head, causing my circulation to shut off. I could feel the thumping rhythm of my heartbeat in my toes. Sniffing again to get rid of what was in my nose, I cracked my neck and struggled to breathe out calmly because I was still encased in a mentally claustrophobic, thickening darkness, that I could assume was artificial, since I could hear the birds. That meant that I may be in a basement of some sort, or at least, in an enclosed building.

The chained hook that was attached to the ceiling by a pulley system started to sway slightly as I looked around at my surroundings, of what I could make of them. About two meters away from my dangling legs, there seemed to be a table of a sort, possibly one of those medical tables, with what little light shined off it. I couldn't make out anything on or beyond it, but from the rotting smell of a meat-like stench (it smelt like a rich meat, like a silver-side.) and the slowly increasing crimson on the tile floors, it wasn't hard to judge on what it was. It was hard not to gag, but I managed to keep whatever what was in my stomach from spilling out of my mouth.

I gasped at the sight of it, kicking my legs, which caused my body to sway, the red rashes on the sides of my wrists from the handcuffs itching even more. My skin had become paper-thin, so that in a moment, it could rip and spill blood. Worst part of it all is that I wouldn't notice it at all until the blood had trickled down my upheld arms.

I blinked, swallowing again, coughing. "...Alle...?"

My only reply was a moving sound to the left of my shoulder, behind my and it sounded like something wooden, like a broom had fallen onto the floor, and a mouse quickly scuttled to the other side of the room. I shrieked quietly, causing my body to sway erratically. When the momentum of the scare slowed down, I sighed, thinking about how the heck I got myself into this situation. I bet this wouldn't have happened if I had stayed at home like a good little teenager. No, if I had stayed at home, I'd be a dead one. And that wouldn't make things better, only deader.

"Che non è il mio nome."

My heart almost jumped straight out of my chest and this time, I swore loudly and flinched, not expecting to hear a person's voice in here along with me. For a moment, I might have sworn it was that rotting body on the nearby table, but it wasn't. It came from behind me and unlike the nude female, if you could recognize her as that anymore, she certainly sounded alive enough. Maybe somewhere in her twenties or thirties.

"Potete gru indietro la testa abbastanza?

What? Potete, can and testa, skull? Was she asking me to turn my head?

"Uh..." I tried to translate what I wanted to say, the best I could. (Mind you, my Italian wasn't the best it could be. I'm a pathetic part italian.) "M-Mi dispiace," I licked my bottom lip. " M-Ma ques-sto è quanto p-posso girare senza ferire m-me stesso ogni ulterio-ore."

I shook my head, somewhat disgraced at my pronunciation skills. My Mother would have covered her eyes and slumped in her chair if she had seen me in this predicament, red in the face with embarrassment.

Despite the grim settings, I heard her chuckle, which only made my spirit sink further into depression.

"Do you speak English?" She asked, with a mild lisp from her accent dancing on her 's'.

"Y-Yeah..." I answered. I wanted to say that I understood Italian too and some other languages to a point, but my voice gave out quickly.

"Can you get yourself off that chain?"

I tilted my head, seeing the roof beyond the giant hoof that was unfocused in my line of vision. It didn't help that I couldn't feel my hands, or even most of my arms for that matter, but I couldn't see how I could do that. There was a latch blocking the top of the hook, so there was no way I could jump over it.

"...no" I called back.

I heard a clinking sound. "Why don't you just hang off of the safety latch?"

"What?"

"Grab on to it." She repeated and by the tone of her voice, I could imagine her pointing a finger. "And use your weight to pull it down."

"Bu-"

That was as far as I got, speaking directly to the woman, whoever she was, because at that moment, a door that I hadn't seen before swung open, and a man with a masked face began to whip my back, until the point where I blacked out.

And in my mind, I was still asking myself about Al.

~o0o~

The room was spinning.

"Oh shit..." I muttered, regaining consciousness and still hanging like a squid on a clothes-line. My heart was thumping, as I felt my pulse in my head, and it felt like a stake had been rammed through it with a murderous intent. "Ngghhh..."

I coughed and turned my head to the most absolute point and asked. "Ngg...a-are you still there?"

I got no reply, which dampened my soul even more, thinking that I must have the most unfortunate luck to ever get. The pulse that was repeating itself in my head resonated at the same pace as the one in my feet that gave an off-putting feeling, since I could not touch the ground. The air around me was colder, indicating a drop in the temperature, possibly due to it changing from day to night, and by this point, I was beginning to lose the feeling in my toes.

My back felt scorched as the cool air glided across it. As I swore, my eyes shut tightly, tears of pain trickling down my neck, I imagined a small scenario in my head. I had been rolled in salt and the masked man, wherever he was now, lingered over, laughing. He kicked me and I rolled into a pool of lemon juice, or any kind of citrus fruit I could think of. And I know that didn't happen, but it the tears and rips that were embedded into my back felt close enough to the truth. Before I blacked out, I remembered that man had a whip, and I knew that regardless of whether I got out of here alive or not, I was going to end up with some pretty nasty scars.

I then decided that now was a good time to attempt to escape, as I looked up at the roof, the pulley hook blurring slightly out of my line of vision. And the next moment was too, and the one after that. But the longer I kept dangling there like a fish on a line, the more that the time that I had left would tick away in an even rhythm.

So yes, now was a good time.

Licking my lips, urging myself, I reached up with one hand, cringing. I realized that I was going to have to carry out this with some amount of difficulty. Due to when I reached up with one hand, my other hand would slip down along with the rest of my body weight, making this move difficult to maneuver.

The first try, I managed to grab onto the latch, but quickly slipped away, my hand was quite sweaty, much to my disgruntlement. I remember growling out in anger when the whiplash and the weight of my body fell due to gravity, but that only made me want to escape even more.

"You're g-gonna die if you stay h-here Phi." I didn't realize how much my voice had diminished, until now. It was hard to even swallow or talk anymore.

Do it.

Get up Phillipa.

DO IT.

GET UP.

NOW.

I nodded at the voice, grunting as one hand gripped the chain of the handcuffs as well as the bottom of the hook. With all the strength I could muster up, I lifted my body, grabbed the latch with the other and kicked with my legs, quickly guided the chain over it.

I was about to smile at my accomplishment, but then before my brain had registered it, I hit the ground violently. A full, blood-curdling scream let itself loose out of my chest as my hands instantaneously grabbed the front of my head. My mouth stayed open as the scream ended. My breathing was uneven and I rolled to one side, the lashed of pain on my back were blocked out due to my head.

A scream.

"A-Ah...Oh my g-, are you -"

"DO I LOOK FUCKING OKAY!?" I sobbed, sitting up. I'll be honest, I don't like yelling at people, but clearly this woman must see the pain of this, small, defenceless hooligan, rolling on the floor, clutching my own head. And now that I could see her properly to some extent, her shocked face showed, her hands covering her mouth.

"..." She seriously looked like she was going to faint, when it probably should have been the other way around. She was trapped in a jail cell, clinging to the bars, her eyes showing that she wanted to help. Her blond hair was oily and it stuck to her head. Her clothes were dirtied and slightly ripped, but that was to the extent of my examining skills as my vision focused on my shaking hand that trickles of blood dripped, and I could feel it on my nose as well.

I don't know how I managed, but I stood, using the bars as support. Stumbling, she stood and swayed over to me, grabbing my elbows, helping me stable my shaking knees.

"Oh mio dio!" She repeated, examining my self-inflicted wound to the head. "You must hurry and get out of here!"

I shook my head slightly, stopping when the pain heightened. "N-no. I-I won't. I'm not g-"

"But he'll get back soon!" She said, urging, trying to convince me, shaking my shoulders. I slapped her hands away and fell back.

"No, I'll do as I say." I said, grasping the side-wall and lifting myself up, panting. "And t-then, you'll forget that I was ever here."

Took a chunk out of the forehead too, I bet.

I flinched, and looked over my shoulder and she frowned deeply, her eyes flickering upwards, then taking a glance at my head again. "O-Ok-kay, but you have to be careful!"

I smiled. "Y-You know, I think I'm already way past being careful."

She huffed, smiling also at my horrible attempt at lightening the mood. "R-Rosemary."

"Huh?"

" 'S my name." Rosemary had now crossed her arms and bit her lip, thinking. "What's a child like you doing here?" And then, in a hushed voice asked. "You're not a prostitute, are you?"

My brow twitched, and I looked down at myself.

No, I don't think I was one.

They didn't own a talking cat.

Or nor did they find themselves in odd situations, like I regularly do now.

"Er, no. I'm not." I said rather distasteful, adverting my eyes to the floor. "Why?"

"Most of the people who come through here are either that or tourists. You know, there have been so many deaths here that I'm surprised you're even alive."

"Well well, surprise mother fucker. I'm even standing." Sort of. I'm sure wobbling counts as standing. "Anya is mine and I'm here on an Art History trip with my class when I got separated."

She nodded her head and I heard the same voice that I'd heard before.

Was somebody coming?

"Figures. I'm, actually, I was working on a story, but I've been here for a while so I doubt that I've even got a job anymore."

I straightened my posture, trying to see. "T-This person, has he got any tools?"

"Tools?" She repeated and then pointed through the bars, to the other side of the room. "O-over there, I think. I-I don't watch when he comes in...with others..."

Then how are you still breathing if he kills? I asked myself. You're lying.

Slowly, I limped over to where she had pointed, and almost tripped over a hidden toolbox. I had to grip onto the wall in-front and bent slightly. This caused me to tear open some of the slightly closed wounds on my back that hurt like a mother fucking duck.

I tapped the tips of my fingers over the contents of things in the box, feeling a handle made of wood, and something wet, something that I'd rather not touch but in order to pull whatever was in there out, it wouldn't get in my way.

"Urgh, blood blood blood." I muttered, watching the red stuff spill out onto the floor when I pulled something out. It seeped in between my toes, feeling all too gross. I wriggled them. "Can't this place be more sanitary? This dude must wear a paper mask when he comes here. He mustn't have a wife."

Yes!

The tool was heavy at one end, but it was the tool I needed. A thick bolt-cutter.

I knelt on the ground as struggled to open the levers, using my legs to hold down the bottom one. I placed the chain in between the blades and gritted my teeth together as I pushed down.

Come on, come on, work!

I re-opened the bolt-cutter and tried again, this time, I cut through it, but by this time, my head was throbbing too much that I couldn't lift it.

My breathing became hitched again and I slumped to the ground, my stomach acting up.

And when I saw the light from the open doorway appear and a shadow as well, of a broad built, I screamed and thrashed.

~o0o~

With my wrists crossed, tied tightly around my back, I awoke from a forced slumber that was unexpected when it shouldn't have been. It was morning, and I could see some form of sunlight stream through the boarded up windows of the room, bouncing off of the floor and reflecting in my eyes, blinding them till they were sore. My fists dug into my spine, so I rolled onto my stomach and huffed begrudgingly, analyzing my with a careful intent.

It was a simple room, so it took me no longer than five minutes to escape the 'rope knot', if you could consider it a good knot at all, and the room itself. The room opened out into a hallway, and by the looks of it, I was located in an office building of some sort, alone.

I wandered around, being careful not to come across anybody else when I heard it. A shriveling scream that echoed off the walls, a scream that resonated the emotion of bloody pain, along with moaning.

I followed the sounds and avoided the crowds of few men by slipping into rooms, hanging into shadows, blending into backgrounds like always. It's not hard to distance myself from society, I've done it for so long.

I heard a louder scream, one with more urgency that made me pick my brisk strides into a full-out run, my arms swinging up.

And I saw it then in the third room. There was a man, standing over her, a bolt-cutter high above his head.

I killed him within two seconds. He died a painful death to the neck and if it weren't for the fact that someone else desperately needed my attention at the moment, I would have ravished myself in his screams, his moans, spilling blood everywhere and whispering in his ear when he begged for death - "You're not allowed to die. I'm having so much fun."

I chucked his corpse to the side and heard a squeak from behind the bars, but I didn't bother to look.

I slipped my waistcoat off and folded it into a square, pressing hard on the girl's head, pulling her dark hair out of the way.

"Phillipa..."

"Oi!" The voice called out, her vocal cords shaking. "I-Is she okay?"

"No." I said, holding her upwards. There was blood running down her neck and when my hand felt the squishy surface of her back, my gut dropped and I spotted the ripped scars that repeated down her back. She looked like shit. "Oh dear lord..."

"C-Can you let me out?" The woman asked, standing so that her head poked through the bars. "I-I know a bit of medical application..."

"And how are you going to do that?" I asked calmly, glancing back to her. "There's no medical equipment here that's usable!"

She sighed and clamped her mouth shut, lips tightly pressed against one another. "I'm sure more of them will come soon. You need to get her away from here!"

"She will be safe."

She smiled and it faltered as I stood and walked over to the bars, saying. "Stand back."

"Why?" She asked, complying anyway.

I stepped back, rolling onto the ball of one foot and then shot forward, round-house kicking the barred doors. It slammed against the adjacent wall with a loud bang! and the woman flinched.

She was probably just a passerby of sorts.

Or she could be an assassin posing as one.

Mama said never to be too careful.

I pulled the gun out of my pants and aimed it at her. "You did not see or hear us here. We never existed, nor will we ever. I will escort you outside, but that is where we will part. Afferrare?"

She shook her head vigorously. "S-Si!"

"Very good."

~o0o~

Despite her thin, lanky figure and long tanned legs, she weighed a lot more than what I could have judged by eyesight.

Mama also said never to judge a person by their cover.

I got caught from the moment I sneaked into the hotel.

"Come here." The man spat from behind the bar. He put down the pint glass that he was drying down on the white plastic rack and motioned his head to the wooden door behind him. He flicked the tea-towel over his shoulder and opened the door as I carried her into the room, bridal style, blood dripping onto the wooden floorboards.

"Sorry." I muttered.

"I'll clean it when I'm done patching up your fidanzata."

"She's not-"

"I don't care." The muscled man said. He had light brown, chestnut hair. His hairline was receding and his mustache bounced up and down when he spoke, stubble scattered on his chin. "I don't want the police coming in here, giving my place a bad rep. Prefer to keep that all that shit in the back, hidden away from the public eye." His accent was more drawn out as his husky voice rose. "It happens a lot more than I'd like it to. Fucking mafia."

I nodded, agreeing. Not all the mafia was bad, but there was fucking a lot of them who struggle with right and wrong.

I laid Phillipa down on the bed, carefully sliding my hand from out under her head.

"I leave her in your keeping, good sir."

Then, I left without another word, stepping over the sleeping cat.

~o0o~

I woke up in a spluttering coughing fit that burned my throat, staring up at the cracked plasticine ceiling. I found that my lungs were also heavy as well as sore.

In short, I looked like shit, felt like shit. Basically, I was a sensitive testing dummy for a mad man.

I was used as a chopping board gosh darn it!

"Oh heck..." I managed to spit out after the coughing fit had died down to a slight simmer. I could move my arms without too much difficulty, but that was about all I could do.

"So my sleeping beauty's awake~"

My heart fluttered, lips curling upwards into a sort-of-happy smile and I turned my head, staring at Al, who was lying on a stool with his legs hanging delicately off of its sides, tails spontaneously flicking in a random direction every few seconds. I stared at him with one eye closed, since my other eye was blinded by a white blur that was caused by a bump in the pillow; probably just some trapped air.

I cringed, breathing in through my nose and moved delicately to an upwards sitting position. "W-Where the heck were ya Al?"

"On the move." He said, in the same tone that I used; one that was almost unsure of itself. And I was still shrouded in doubt over what happened back there. I remembered pain and that thickening, claustrophobic darkness that was overwhelming and tinged with the silence that I only thought would exist on the crime and investigation channel. I remember imagining that those horrible things that happened to all those other people would be the closest violence that I would even come into contact with. Boy, was I terribly wrong. "It was difficult to locate your position, and on top of that, I couldn't help you. I'm a cat, after all."

He sneezed, his whiskers wriggling in the air. "But that psycho in a waistcoat managed to find you before I could devise a plan. Bet you never thought you'd get yourself caught up in a torture project in the darker part of the Italian mafia, now did you?"

My eyebrows rose. "Oh, so now you have some balls to compensate for your lack of decency as a friend? When I was getting tortured?"

"Like I said, I'm a cat. It was like Fort Knox, according to that man's thoughts. It looked like a scientific building. Maybe a lab hidden under the public's nose?"

"Thoughts?" I asked, pondering on the word.

He rubbed a paw against his ear after licking at it. "Yeah, you know. Thoughts, they're the words that you imagine in your head. All animals can do it, of course, as well as humans. How do you think parrots know how to talk, or how mothering animals may foster another animal child from a different species? Humans think that dogs and horses closely rely on this trait, but they're not the only ones. It's a specific form of communication. You somehow can tap into it naturally, through your genetics, probably a mutated gene. Mongrel."

"Bitch." I coughed again, nearly inhaling the glass of water that was placed on the bedside cabinet. "Poor excuse for a cat. I'm sure that your kind pretends to spot demons just to act batshit at the worst of times."

His tail twitched."You'd be surprised at what I see daily."

I laughed once at his attempt of a smile, which worked. How he could do that to me, I would probably never be able to figure out. My best friend, a cat. Most people would think I've gone crazy.

Maybe I have.

"So how was your weekend of torture?" He asked kindheartedly, enlightening the mood once more, probably seeing me as weak now because I was injured. "See any cute boys?"

I smiled. "One guy tried to come onto me, but I can't remember much of what happened after that. I felt myself bobbing up and down, feeling the wind on my legs, so it might have been when that man that you said had rescued me." My eyes perked up. "W-Where is he anyway, I should thank him!"

"Gone."

"What?"

"Like the wind." He stated." He didn't stay for long. Only popped back in to see how you were going. That was two days ago."

"And how long have I been out of it?" I asked, drawing out the vowels, my voice rising, and I almost didn't want to hear the answer.

"Five days, I think."

I sighed, sniffing. "Well there's a weeks worth of work lost. Fucking assholes."

He nodded.

I turned my head, as a thought passed my mind. "Do you remember that pile of photos that I stole from my mother?"

"Aren't you supposed to say 'the photo's I borrowed from my mother'?"

"It's too late for that lie, ain't it?" I said, my sarcasm growing again into a formed work of art. (In my head, that is.) "She's dead, and I can't do anything about it. Anyway, back onto the subject of those photos."

"Yes, the photos. What about them?"

"That woman who was on her phone at that café. I met her."

Cue the silence followed by the WTF face, cat version. "WHAT?"

"I met her, in there. The pain must have gotten to my head because I can only remember vague colors and sentences, along with memories that have no sound; only mouths moving silently." I cleared my throat. "She said some things, but I have had a feeling, something telling me that she was lying about certain things. Mother was tracking her."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Finish what Mother started." I replied, overlapping my hands in my lap. "I'll start tracking her as well. She's bound to know something, if Mother was tracking her."

~o0o~

Probably one of the most draining chapters I've written. Sorry that's a little late, but I was at Armageddon all weekend dressed as Fem!Tsuna and Fem!Reborn, so if you wanna go have a sneaky peeky at my cosplays, go to my deviantart account (Verdigurl). They should be there.

Anywho, speaking of conventions, I got to have a picture with Mitch Pileggi and Jason Momoa! *Squeals* That, and after the second day, I came home to an inbox flooded with reviews, mainly thanks to Leolnuyuka for advertising it in her story. So for that, this chapter is for her~ I hope your arm/hand/wrist is feeling better. :) (Speaking of which, it reminds me of when I met a Castiel cosplayer and she was like 'OHMYGODYOULOOKKAWAIIINYOURCHIBITALIAOUTFIT,IWANTA PICTUREOFYOU!' and I was all like 'WHAT!IWANTAPICTUREOFYOUYOUBEAUTIFULTHING!')

Thank you to the many many Followers and favourites and Insanity-Red for adding my story to her community of favourite stories. Endless hugs, high fives and brofists (depending on your tastes) goes out to you guys! :)

Replies:

Leolnuyuka: *Bows* You're awesome. *Grabs the box of cookies* Thank you! These taste much better than my home-made riceballs! (PS, yeah. That's what Wikipedia said.)

Guest 1: Hm, yeah, it might be a thought to ponder on, but right now, I can live without one. BTW, I agree that that chapter was rushed, so when I get the time, I'll fix it.

Guest 2: M'thank you! I wanted it to fell like something that normally people wouldn't see on a KHR fanfiction. The story will pick up soon. (Originally, I'd planned to add more, but then I had a really good idea, so I decided to stop when she woke up.)

Angelic Fluff: Thank you for reviewing :)!

xXstarmiXx: Woah woah woah. Hold it right there cowgirl, your praises are gonna sweep me off of the couch in a minute! Thank you so much for saying lovely words. I can assure you, your comment made me smile widely. And yes, you did. You better throw him back before he gets scared of my weirdness.

Dutchpuppy: No biggie. Your chips are making me hungry. Potatoes are my favorite snack next to sushi. BTW IT AIN'T F'D UP! I JUST LIKE SKULL COMING FIRST FOR ONCE! *You can't hear me laughing, so just imagine it* I thought it'd be creative. Merci beaucoup for the cake and pie desu.

o_o: You're very welcome, no name. Now please stop staring at me, your username is creeping me out.

tsukinoyume11: It was the pedo-bear.

ausumist: Thank you! I love to hear comments like that!

Dr. Captain Pepper: I love how you reviewed every chapter, so I'm going to say things in order of review. 1)- Not gonna. 2)- Yeah, I know. I've had that comment before and I've tried to research things, but I'm trying my best with it. 3)- Yes sirry~, yes he is! 4) - I find it hard to write as Colonnello, and some of the other characters in KHR, so I'm gonna try much harder! Thank you for your lovely reviews!

Alrighty, I'm going to do Art Design stuff now.

-Verdigurl