Chapter XLVI
Day 2
"If I die here, would you tell Danchou that I love him and that he should watch over the school's maintenance and the manuscripts that I would leave behind?" Valtiel asks during dinner.
"Sure," Feitan answers dryly.
Nothing ever happens in the Leviathan but the continuous process of eating and sleeping and wasting one's life away locked up in cells. The food is constantly bland, and the prison is growing too cold for even a proper sleep.
Valtiel has successfully kept track of the hours as they wasted away, slipping through her fingers like sand. Aside from tracking time, she does nothing, and it boggles her mind how these prisoners could stomach spending years doing the same thing everyday.
She tries to make small talk to anyone, particularly Feitan, but the thief's default response is a dark glare and a snarl. She sighs in defeat and turns for Cas, who is enthusiastic enough to represent the five other prisoners. On rare times, she looks up at the guards and asks questions. Either they would threaten her with their rifle or ignore her—there is nothing in between.
The silence wears on, so she looks down on her untouched plate of grilled asparagus, tomatoes, cauliflower, with zucchini noodles. She wants to weep. The chances of her dying of starvation here have mounted to another fifty percent and Feitan wouldn't even mourn her.
At least the dessert is chocolate and Feitan is not touching his. She snatches the platter from his side and he gives her a rather earnest disgusted look. She sticks her tongue out at him.
After dinner, they rise, have table wheeled out, return to cells, watch guards disappear into antechamber.
Really, this is starting to get tedious. If Feitan doesn't snap, Valtiel would.
Lights are out, but the camera's red dot blinks back at her. The vents keep producing the white gas, and all Valtiel could do in her cell is to lie down on the bed, cover herself with the blanket from head to toe, and start scratching at the wall. She has managed to get the claw from her index finger out, which she uses to break through the metal wall and hopefully create a crevice for her to breathe in and out, thereby avoiding the constant muscle relaxants in the air.
Her claw scratches like a nail grating on a chalkboard, but her previous theory proved that there are no bugs in the prison, only cameras. The guards would not hear even if she starts planning murder.
Feitan does the same in his cell, scratching at the wall underneath his blanket. A little aura around the claw helps with the task, and in no time, perhaps past midnight, he has broken through the metal wall and he could see the numerous pipes and beams on the other side.
Valtiel rises from the bed and marks the passing hour. Then she goes back to her task, forcing a little Ren enough to puncture through the wall. She pries it wider, a few inches apart, and puts her mouth into the crevice and breathes the muscle relaxants out. She hopes to feel a stronger grip in her hands in a few hours, or else either she or Feitan would lose their patience and snap big time.
They cannot afford that. No one can afford Feitan using his ability in a submarine.
When the prisoners have stilled in their sleep, the gas slowly decreases to the point that only a thin mist hangs in the air. Valtiel is careful not to move, feigning sleep, but marks the time in her mind once again. It should be 3 A.M. now—the Devil's Hour.
How interesting.
She smiles underneath her blanket. She notes the minutes as she breathes in and out, in and out, opening and closing her fist, feeling for the sensation of her claws. Without the usual amount of gas, the sensations return, her senses spiked up for at least a quarter more.
She keeps to herself, until thirty minutes later, the vents produce more gas. Frowning, she pries the crevice in her wall wider and breathes.
Day 3
Come morning, something unusual is in the very air.
The entire prison seems to rumble from a strong force, coming from way beyond the antechamber. Curious, Valtiel goes to the bars and angles her face towards the two-way mirrors. Feitan presses at the wounds in his chest, the bloodstain already dried and a shade of dark brown. In the middlemost cell, Wolf curls two strong hands around the bars and snarls.
Someone is coming.
"I thought you said this prison is only for the most dangerous ones, Cas," Valtiel mumbles.
"Yeah, but maybe the warden has something in store for us," the other prisoner answers.
"Like what?" she growls and shrinks back into her cell as the doors open.
The captain, whose name she learned last night as Emery, leads his usual group of fourteen other guards into the small prison. All are wearing thick armored vests, with paddings on the shoulders and elbows.
Valtiel trails her eyes over those paddings and wonders if her claws could slice past those to break their joints. The guards file inside and stand between the cells, holding their rifles proudly. With them in such a cautious position, it prompts the two Spiders to look at each other across their own cells.
The rumbling comes again, from the antechamber. Emery supervises the doors, nodding to four more guards as they escort the newest prisoner—a tall, blond man with melancholy blue eyes.
He wears a striped shirt and pants, no shoes. What catches Valtiel's attention are the numerous thick iron cuffs around his wrists, arms, and foot. A chain wraps around his entire frame, big as a bear, reminding her of Franklin's burly build. In this compact prison, he looks like a giant, needing to duck his head beneath the doorframe as he enters. Sad blue eyes wander around the area, regarding both Valtiel and Feitan little interest.
Emery searches around the semi-circular prison and it sets everyone, minus the Spiders, to the edge. He glances at Valtiel's confused expression, and then to Feitan, who frowns at him. Number Six seems to be wary, Number Three not at all perturbed, and Number Four—Wolf bares his teeth at the captain.
"That one." Emery snaps his fingers to the ones guarding Wolf's cell. "Take him out."
As the guards are forcing Wolf into his handcuffs and chains, Valtiel tiptoes to the right side of her cell and calls for Cas.
"What is going on?" she whispers. "Are they switching them out?"
Cas presses his lips into a thin line. "For sure," he says. "Guess no one told you that whenever the warden collects another, more dangerous prisoner, he removes someone from here and throws the new one in his place. Before you and your friend arrived, previous One and Seven were moved to the upper levels. No one knows what happens to them, but who cares? They must have been executed."
All the more reason to frown. She cannot be taken from Feitan, and him from her.
The guards are moving slowly, carefully, as they switch Wolf with this new prisoner. For his last act of defiance, Wolf struggles against his chains and attempts to take a bite from his replacement. The blond man answers the attempt—digging his fingers into Wolf's muscled arm and tearing a large part of his flesh.
Screams follow.
Emery shouts that Wolf be taken away before more damage could be dealt, but Valtiel could imagine no more damage—Wolf is screaming and kicking his legs, desperate to keep his blood from gushing.
The blond man kneads the flesh in his fingers before the guards shove him into Wolf's cell. He settles into his newest place quite fine, unperturbed of the trouble he caused. Captain Emery and his guards drag Wolf's limping body out of the prison with a long trail of blood on the floor.
The doors shut with a loud clang. The scent of blood lingers in the air and the prisoners are panting with newfound terror of their latest roommate. Number Three, the old man with splotchy skin, scrambles to the farthest corner of his cell, as if that could save him from his new neighbor.
Cas clears his throat. "It happens you know," he says in an undertone to Valtiel. "Replace dangerous criminals with more dangerous ones. Wolf's been here only two years but damn."
Valtiel sneers at the blood on the floor. It spreads like fire across the white tiles, until it reaches towards the vents and the blood plunges into it. The white gas mingles with the scent of more blood, and it assaults her sense of smell so much that she returns to the bed and breathes into the crevice she made. With a new threat inside the prison, she and Feitan have to get out of here, backup or not.
Day 4
The sudden change in the menu is almost tragic. She wishes the chicken, fish, potatoes and steamed vegetables combination would make a comeback, or else this lunch of greens would be the death of her.
Across from her, Feitan is nibbling on the cucumber and whatever else is on his plate. To her right, Cas is practically devouring every inch of the vegetables.
To the head of the table, well, she is glad to know that the blond man, their new Number Four, is staying behind the bars and is having the guards slip the food tray on the floor like one would feed a dog. He keeps to himself, neither speaking to anyone nor breathing too loud. His very silence makes her wary—no one plans a murder aloud.
Though Feitan certainly does.
Like Hisoka, this one has no concept of subtlety. "We kill everyone who interfere," he says during the rare moments he feels like talking to her. "Kill everyone. Escape. Go to Troupe."
She just nods. Her fingers open and close around the spoon. After their little triumph with the wall, she notices the significant return of her strength. Faint at first, but gradually becoming stronger. Well enough for a tight fist, but not for a punch. She would need more days for that.
"Do you think Danchou and the others are looking for us?"
"Of course." He snorts, as if the question is stupid. "He very fond of you."
"Oh." She lowers her eyes, suddenly embarrassed.
"Don't understand why," he snaps. "You weak and whiny, and cry all the time."
"You're right." Her voice falters. The brightness in her eyes fades. "I don't know why either."
Feitan checks at her face closer. He cannot have offended her if he is telling the truth, right? Everyone in the Troupe knows these for facts, so why the sad face? Why the quiet voice?
He shoves his plate away from him and decides the food is not worth it. His appetite is rotten and his only companion in this shithole of a prison is on the verge of whining—again. If not for the pretty eyes and sharp tongue, he bets Danchou would have gotten rid of her in the first three months.
Emery barks out his usual commands and the prisoners follow his lead. Feitan looks over his shoulder as Valtiel follows the guard assigned to her, walking back to her cell. He catches her soft smile as Castile winks back at her, stuffing himself back to his own cell.
Without much thought in his words, Feitan says uncertainly, "Maybe you kind."
The guards dim the lights. Both Spiders settle into their beds. Across the room, despite the shadows, Feitan sees the same soft smile directed at him. For some reason, it is uplifting to the spirits.
Then he snorts at the ridiculous notion.
"But still very whiny."
Valtiel just laughs.
Day 5
"Fei-san, have you always wanted to be a thief?"
"What the hell?"
"Just asking."
They are in the middle of another meal, dining on the usual greens. The ride that entire day has been bumpy, as if the submarine is fighting off more powerful waves, wherever part of the world they are. Valtiel licks the chocolate pudding off her spoon as she waits for the other's response, which is his default sneer and a scowl. She fights the urge to laugh.
Feitan regards her with his unamused steely gaze. "You always this talkative?"
She laughs in earnest this time. The guards blink at the hearty sound. "Not so," she says, golden eyes dancing at his sullen face. "I'm not even half as talkative with Danchou as I am with you."
"So why you ask so many questions?"
"Because you don't talk too much," she says, resting her chin on her palm.
"You like pushing buttons, little girl?"
"With you, I do." She smiles wider. "You're very grumpy."
"You use to be afraid," he mumbles.
"Not anymore. I grew up. And you didn't answer my question."
He looks like he could slam the plate and stab her with the shards of the plastic, but he refrains, keeping his hands to himself and opting for a glare instead. If he once thought Phinks is annoying, then Valtiel is a hundredfold more annoying. If there's a ranking within the Troupe, she would be near Hisoka's level.
Valtiel weighs the expression in his face. When his dark eyes snap to hers, she beams.
"I follow Danchou," Feitan answers simply. "Wherever he goes, whatever he wants to do, I follow. We are the Phantom Troupe. We are the Spiders. We are one." He shoots her a quick menacing look. "And you not one of us."
"I know," she concedes with a defeated nod. "And I would never be one."
Cas speaks from her right. "Who's Danchou?"
Feitan leans both arms on the table and snarls. "Someone who can rip your throat for talking to Valtiel," he warns.
The other prisoner chuckles as if he could not be bothered by the thought of it. For someone charged with first-degree murders, arson and bombings, Feitan is not surprised at his reaction.
Number Three wheezes a laugh, showing off his toothless mouth. "You kids and your threatening each other," he muses. "Back in my day, actions speak louder than words. Words are cheap."
She looks intrigued. "What are you here for anyway?"
"I took forty people as hostages, twenty-six murders, one hundred sixty-six attempted murders, and forty-seven counts of kidnapping."
"Wow. And how long is your sentence?"
"4,797 years."
"Oh, wow, that's impressive," Valtiel exclaims and turns to Feitan. "I wonder how many years we would have for simply being related to the Phantom Troupe. Can you imagine?"
"No," he says, unkind. "Because we getting out of here, idiot."
Day 6
"I'm bored, Fei-san."
"I know."
"When are we getting out of here?"
"As soon as we can."
"And when is that?"
"Soon."
A sigh, and then:
"I miss Danchou."
"I don't."
"Don't you miss anyone at all?"
"I miss silence."
She snorts. "Mean."
He actually chuckles. "I know."
Day 7
After dinner and before light's out, Emery approaches Valtiel's cell. He half-expects her to meet him halfway, but the young woman, sensing more his need for than her need for him, sits on the edge of her bed with a pleasant smile on her face. Her hair is a tumble of silver-gold across her back, framing her youthful face and her bright eyes.
And that smile−Emery glowers beneath his mask. He has served years in this prison and knows when a female prisoner is upping her charms for some respite.
As he is opening his mouth to speak, she turns away, with a masterful flick of her eyes sideways as if to check his reaction. Emery stands his ground against this blatant teasing, but her continual ignoring of him eats at his pride, at his command over these prisoners. Already he could feel the amusement building in the other prisoners and even guards as they watch their commander standing helpless before a female prisoner.
He clears his throat. She blinks her round, golden eyes at him. "Tomorrow, you and your friend will appear at court," he announces, loud enough for Feitan to hear as well. "After breakfast, so prepare yourselves."
She tilts her head to the side. "Won't we be executed?"
"That is for the judge to decide upon," he says.
"In that case, we will be prepared," she promises.
"After breakfast," he reiterates, and trudges back to the antechamber with a loud thud.
Once Emery is gone, the entire prison bursts into laughter, Cas's voice the loudest among them. Valtiel blinks at their reaction, searching for Feitan. He shrugs his shoulders.
Cas presses his face against the bars. "I think you have him on the run, Val."
She wrinkles her nose. "Don't be impertinent, I was merely asking him questions." Then she looks up at the black camera and smiles the way Danchou once taught her.
Emery should be watching her.
Author's Notes: The "Number Three" prisoner is based on the real life Henri Parot, whose 26 murders and 166 attempted murders between 1978 and 1990 earned him a sentence term of exactly 4,797 years.
Ah but damn, I missed Chrollo and Val's canon birthday (Nov 5th) in this fic. But I'm glad to be working actively on this fic again! I only had to watch a few Chrollo and Phantom Troupe clips to fall in love for the nth time. I loved every bit of writing this chapter, especially giving the spotlight to our little sadist Feitan, and I'm happy to share this day-to-day snippet while him and Valtiel are in prison.
Did I ever mention how I loved writing Feitan in this chapter? No? Just me? Okay. (✿◠‿◠)
Thank you all for reading and for leaving kind reviews/comments as always! Stay safe! See you all in the next update.
EDIT: I'm also actually in the middle of creating an Illumi/OC story. Everything is still in its early stages, like plot, characters, relationships, etc. But if there's anyone out there who's an Illumi fan, please let me know what you want to see, headcanons, suggestions, anything! I've been wanting to write about either Illumi and Killua, but ended up on Illumi because he's more complicated, haha. Any suggestion would be treasured. Thank you!