"Number One is expecting you."
The boys exchanged glances before following the "faceless" cloaked figure down a seemingly endless hallway. Killua shrugged and slipped his hands into his coat pockets as his tanned friend's eyes turned to him a second time. He supposed it was hardly unreasonable that the elder of L.I.G.H.T. had foreseen their return to headquarters considering it had been difficult to evaluate his thought process for allowing them to leave unscathed in the first place.
Admittedly, Killua had been automatically resistant to the idea of turning to L.I.G.H.T. for legitimate assistance, but time was ticking and their available options were running dangerously low. Of course it had originally been Haku's suggestion to exploit the common goal between themselves and L.I.G.H.T., though the details of his plan had unfortunately died with him. While the circumstance wasn't particularly ideal, it was an option that allowed for both safety in numbers and the potential to buy some time before confronting Illumi.
"Send them in," Number One's voice called from behind a closed door as the boys drew near.
This time the two did not bother to feel even the mildest effects of surprise as they pushed open the door and entered.
As it happened, the room was actually identical to the one in which they had met the 'Holy' members before, if not the exact same. Below their feet was the conveyor belt, despite the fact that it was not operating, and even in the relative dark the circular podium a level up from the floor could be recognized with ease. However, rather than finding themselves surrounded by the ten most elite affiliates of L.I.G.H.T., there was only a single hooded figure waiting with the openings to his long, draping, robe-like sleeves held together before him on the same tier as Gon and Killua.
"I've been waiting for you boys," the elderly man's voice announced.
Ignoring the statement, Killua began, "We came to-…"
"…Work out an agreement between our parties," Number One finished. "Yes, I'm quite aware of your intentions."
"We don't want to join," Gon piped up, shooting a look of warning towards the ominous space where he supposed the man's eyes should be.
A small chuckle came in response.
"I know you won't join us," he replied. There was a moment of silence as the two presumably locked stares before the elder said to Gon, "During our last meeting, when you first showed me those eyes, I knew there was no chance of converting you. You need not worry about that any longer."
The concealed man drew a few paces closer to the pair, pausing a moment before ultimately bowing low at the waist to them.
"Come," he insisted, gesturing toward an unfolding flight of stairs. "There is much to discuss."
Killua was certain to keep up his guard, despite his appearance reflecting a sense of nonchalance and even a distinct hint of boredom. While this was perhaps a useful exercise of deceit, it was not entirely conscious. In fact, the paler boy's mind was quite fixated on a terrible range of concerns, both regarding the present situation and all the others momentarily at bay.
He hoped, in spite of her earlier intentions to obey Illumi, that Misaki had been honest in her word to avoid further confrontation with the eldest Zoldyck son until they were able to advance their plans. Even still, Killua was not completely convinced of her alleged "devotion" to his demise now. After all, she had somehow managed to fool him into believing she was a committed member of their team prior, and as it happened she had only finally admitted otherwise because he had caught the two of them-…
…well, together… and then some.
As it were, it was much simpler for his already overwhelmed psyche to acknowledge that Misaki was, whether or not he respected her as a human being, strong and learned enough to offer a valuable addition to the resistance against his eldest brother. He willingly adopted the perspective that her interference too soon could set him up personally for disaster. Meanwhile, she was to bide her time collecting any information of use during her healing time- though Killua was of course prepared to accept that her report could be entirely false if it turned out she was actually a chronic liar or something equally as destructive to the cause. This freed the boys to take care of the definite time limit while Gon was therefore distanced from his potential aggressor.
As the three approached a hidden screen behind the barrier of the podium, Number One drew a long, bony, index finger forward and pressed on several areas of the wooden backing as though he were selecting buttons. Before Killua had even considered it, Gon had already applied the use of Gyo and was inspecting the faint trace of a hanging keypad. From the counter-like top of the lengthy podium, a screen emerged. Upon it, split into twenty or so sections, were different images displaying a similar outcome around several volcanoes as what they themselves had been working on tirelessly before the interruption of their recent drama.
"You see?" offered Number One, pointing his shaky finger at the monitor. "We've been helping you already and you didn't even realize it."
"Oh, you were following us," Gon realized casually.
The elder said nothing.
"I wouldn't say you were 'helping us'," the former assassin disagreed. "If anything, it's your job to stop the eruptions, so we're helping you."
No response followed, and it was again the silver haired boy that finally spoke.
"There's no reason to expect us to do you any extra favors. That's what you were getting at, weren't you, old man?
The silence was awkward and tense, though eventually Number One chuckled softly to dismiss it.
"You're a sharp kid."
"We either have an understanding or we don't," Killua continued, seemingly unfazed. "It's up to you."
"You're quick to threaten," the man said, "but there is always some degree of backlash in that sort of mentality."
Narrowing his blue eyes, the boy replied, "Do we have an understanding or don't we?"
Number One lowered his head and then reached for his hood, drawing it back and off his head. His face was long and sunken, and a moderately sized, grey and shaggy beard hung from his chin. His scalp was oddly shaped and devoid of hair. The skin was wrinkled, drooping unnaturally, and even slightly discolored; an unhealthy grey-blue shade. One of the eyes was milky- ever still and staring- while the other had a brown iris and was able to move casually and dilate. Both seemed to float in his skull, bulging out from sockets that appeared otherwise two dimensional in comparison. A thin smile formed across the dried and withering lips as the man awkwardly bowed his head.
"As was already my intention, I give you my word that you can count on L.I.G.H.T. as your ally for the purpose of this mission."
A/N: I apologize for my absence as of late. I've been quite overworked, and this is my only day off during a 10 day stretch. I have to say, it has been absolutely brutal. I suppose you don't really want to hear my excuses, but I haven't forgotten this story and do have every intention of updating!